We Are What We Are

Chapters

To the Sea
Like Those Pitiful Saps
Roundabout
Cracks
An End to Grace Notes
Exposed
The Little Lady - Hither
The Little Lady - Yon
Wishful Thinking
A Call in the Dark
Pawns and Queens
The Things We Covet
Heat
Smoke
Flames
Onto You
An Inherited Burden
Troubled Waters
Upon Deaf Ears
Duets, Dissonance, and...
The In-between
Time Out - Prodigy
Time Out - Nowhere
The First Step
What She Did
Shift
Have My Eyes
Forced Calm
To Play the Card
To Force the Hand
Silk and Secrets
Picture of Perfection
The Gilded Cage
Watchers
Things Left Unsaid
Cage Break
Precipice
As You Were
I Do Not Surrender
On the Clock
All Mine
When to Quit
Blind Spot
To Good Use
A Stable Mundanity
Trial and Error
A Shadowy Place
Coming to Light

To the Sea

Author's Note

If you're interested in hearing what the song Aria sings in this chapter sounds like:
'To the Sea (Aria's Theme)'

I'm planning on doing these for as many of the songs in this fic as I can.

To the Sea

"Eyes forward, no slouching, both hind and front legs together, no muttering, address all visitors as "Master" or "Madame", do not flutter your wings unless flying to a designated area, or specifically asked by an elder of the house to do so, and I shall pray that you shall remember to keep your mane tidy at all times. Have I made myself quite clear?"

To this, the stout, elderly, lavender-colored pegasus received no reply. Instead, what she heard coming from behind her was the gentlest sound of a melancholy melody being hummed. As pretty as the tune was, it nevertheless, had little affect on her. Swishing her tail in irritation, and raising a brow, the elder pegasus spun around. She flew over to the young one in her midsts on shaky wing, and cleared her throat. "Miss Aria Blaze! I said have I made myself quite clear?"

The small, rose-ish pegasus' attention was drawn back to her elder from whence it had previously been placed, namely outside of the window where lay the most gorgeously sunny day. Aria shrank before the older pegasus, apprehension very apparent in her deep purple eyes. She gasped when a strand of her bone straight, brightly colored mane fell out of the frighteningly neat bun it had been placed into. Tucking it back quickly, she performed a very short, and slightly off-centered bow whilst lowering her gaze to the floor. "Yes, Mum!" she replied in a small voice. "Quite clear, Mum!"

"And no singing! Have you not learned from before? Has it not been made utterly clear how much this displeases the lady of the estate?" the elder pegasus exclaimed, a strange twinge of desperation accenting her words. "Do you not remember what will happen?"

"B-but, I have not done anything wrong, Misses Clouds," the young pegasus stammered, even quieter than before. "Why can't I ever be allowed to sing? All the mothers, and fathers, and artisans like it. Why can't I?" The smaller pony became quite distraught and confused as she stood there on the brink of tears.

Noticing the filly before her begin to shake and shiver, Misses Clouds' stern gaze softened. She sighed heavily, and allowed a smile to crack the surface of her wrinkled face. Landing gently upon her hooves, she reached under Aria's chin, and lifted her gaze so that they might look at one another. "Don't be worried, and don't be distraught, my child. You are of the sweetest and loveliest of fillies in the lady's care. Any patron would be most fortunate to have you. They can see this even without the songs. Chin up. Your time shall come."

At these words, little Aria's nervous expression faded, and she lunged forward to embrace the elder pony. At first the lavender pegasus welcomed the nuzzle until her eyes opened slightly, and she caught sight of a rather large, purple bruise beneath the young one's front leg. Her expression immediately grew dark as she continued to embrace her.

After a while, Aria let go, and performed her small bow one more time. "Thank you, Misses Clouds," she shouted cheerily before flying past the other pegasus, and out of the fillies wing's bedroom door.

As she went, Misses Clouds noticed the same lock in Aria's bun fall out of place again. She sighed wearily, and shook her head. Trotting out into the hallway, she called after her. "Your mane! Remember, Aria!"

When the young one had disappeared around the corner, Misses Clouds huffed wearily, her expression immediately falling into one of utter indignation. She turned straight away, and marched off down toward the opposite end of the long corridor. Upon reaching a large room at which, on the far side lay a massive double-door made of thick gray cloud, Misses Clouds quickened her pace.

When she reached the entryway, she didn't bother to knock, choosing instead to storm right in, ready to unleash her rage at whoever sat within. She immediately stifled her words when she noticed not one, but two pegasi inside of an enormous, grimly decorated personal chamber and study. At the large, gray table ahead sat a stern-looking pegasus, also gray of color, mane jet black, and pulled back into a tight, neatly kept bun reminiscent of the one Clouds had made for Aria earlier on. This bun was then surrounded by a rope of jet black braid. Her body was wrapped in a billowing white robe, and upon her braided and bunned crown sat a wreath of golden flower petals. If it weren't for the well-formed sneer set firmly upon her face, the pegasus could have been thought a gentle queen by appearances alone.

Leaning on the table from where he stood on the other side was an equally grim-faced, though slightly younger looking pegasus. His coat was the drabbest of blues, and his mane a deep, greasy violet. The stallion's entire body was covered with what appeared to be worn, dented armor.

Upon Clouds' abrupt entrance, the both of their heads spun around, and their bodies tensed. It was clear to her that she had just interrupted what appeared to have been an extremely important and private conversation. "M'lady," she said curtly, making a small bow as her eyes met the gray mare's. When her gaze trailed over to the blue stallion, the expression on her face quickly drew up into one of poorly hidden disgust. "Master Swift," she murmured. It was clear she would have preferred to not have to address him at all. "Mum, a word, if you will."

"Is it very important, Matron Clouds? I am quite busy at the moment," the gray pegasus sighed in disinterest. She began to straighten rolls of parchments upon her table, threatening to give her attention to something else if it, indeed, wasn't.

"'Tis, M'lady. Quite. Important," the elder pony said through gritted teeth, her eyes darting anxiously between Swift and the genteel mare.

Taking the hint, the gray pegasus dropped her parchments, flipped the edges of her robes across her lap, and leaned forward. "Swift, we shall continue this later. Do not forget what it is I have told you," she said without ever looking up.

"And do not forget what I've told you," Swift hissed at her angrily before turning about, and marching out of the door without a word to Misses Clouds.

The moment he had left the room, Clouds exhaled a breath she had not realized she'd been holding. Her muscles relaxed.

"Get on with it, Matron," the gray pegasus said, slightly irritated.

It took a moment still for Clouds to decide on exactly what it was she wanted to say, and how it should be posed. "Lady Mist, once again, I am here to implore you to take pity on the little ward Aria Blaze. Just a moment ago I found yet another bruise on the poor creature's body. That would be the fifth this week. The fifth! Something must be done! I beg of you!" Misses Clouds urged, her face clouded with worry.

"Matron Clouds," Mist groaned with a roll of her eyes as she inspected her pristinely manicured hoof, "these are children of which we speak! Children play, they fight, and they are bruised in the process. Once again, I must urge you to find solace in these quite reasonable truths."

"She is beaten, not bruised," Clouds hissed. "The other children, they torment her. All for the child's beautiful voi—"

"Not a word on it, Clouds! Not again. I shall have none of it! Time and again I have told that little... thing to never sing. I have done all I can. My conscience is clear. If she disobeys the instructions given her, and feeds the fires of the other wards' jealousy, what else am I to do? They are what they are. They are wards, and must be whipped—" Mist caught herself mid-sentence, and quickly changed direction, "—I mean... molded into honorable ponies. Aria Blaze has disobeyed my wishes. Had she not, she would not be suffering at the hooves of her peers."

Misses Clouds was boiling over by this point. Straightening the white shawl that covered the equally white, neatly kept mane that sat atop her head, she stormed forward, slamming her hooves onto Mist's table, staring daggers of fire into her eyes. "Those bruises are not only the work of children, not the one I saw today. I know this. I feel you are aware of it as well. Yet, it is under your supposedly watchful gaze that this poor foal's torment is allowed to continue! It is under your gaze that... that—"

"Silence!" the gray pegasus thundered, standing on her hind legs, and slamming her hooves against the table, rattling a goblet of hard cider that sat nearby. She brought her face dangerously close to Clouds'. "How dare you?" she hissed. "Was it not I who took you in from the cold and rain? Was it not I who fed you, and brought you on as the caretaker of my wards? I could have left you down there on the dirty roadside begging for scraps from the earth ponies, and surely hunger and illness would have made quick work of you. I am your saviour and your mistress, and this is to be my payment? Endless suggestions of the foulest deeds taking place under my roof?"

Things became very quiet then. The grimness of Mist's chamber sank into Misses Cloud's very bones. Slowly, she backed away, composed herself, and gazed at the floor. She was shaken, but it was clear that she remained steadfast in her feelings.

"Leave, now. Go and meet the benefactors and families. This will be the last time I shall entertain these ridiculous fantasies, Clouds. The next time..." Mist's voice trailed off tellingly.

Without another word, Misses Clouds performed her short bow, turned tail, and slowly walked out of the study. Her ego might have been bruised, but her head was raised proudly.

____

"And you embroidered these ribbons all by yourself?" the finely robed, clearly well-to-do pegasus asked the yellow-maned filly. She took another moment to stare at the unevenly sewn curls and rainbow colored flowers upon the lovely strip of silk draped in her hooves.

"Yes, Madame! All by myself!" the young pegasus replied with a huge smile that clearly showed off her one missing front tooth.

The affluent pegasus covered her mouth to silence her laugh. "Oh my. How very talented you are, little Miss..." she trailed off, waiting for the filly to supply her name.

"Star Dust, Madame," she replied, bowing low.

"Yes. Star Dust. You know, Star Dust, you are really very good at sewing. Why, I would venture to say that given time, and the proper training of course, you could be one of the best one day, like me. Is that something that interests you?" the lovely pegasus said, flipping her perfectly pinned curls out of her face.

Star Dust's eyes brightened. "Very much, Madame. I would love that," she breathed, barely able to contain herself.

"Very good. Now, Star Dust, how would you enjoy a stroll with me through the cloud gardens?" the fancy pegasus asked, patting the young one's head sweetly. "Then perhaps a chat with the caretakers, yes?"

"Oh, I would enjoy that, indeed, Mum—I mean... Madame!"

The atmosphere in the Mist estate's courtyard was quite festive that day, probably because of the beautiful weather. The patrons were numerous, and the sound of laughter and playing could be heard all about. Lady Mist, the mistress of the estate, was the most wealthy and influential pegasus in town. It was rumored that she was one of the descendants, and the most recent heiress, of the legendary Fillius the Great, 'Conqueror of the Wilds'. It was he and his legionaries who had supposedly founded the city at Gales three hundred years prior after fighting off a hoard of angry dragons that had been roaming the area. All of this was purely speculation, of course, but what was certain was the Mist family's power over the local populous and its affairs. Supposedly, no great decision about the city or its inhabitants could ever be made without first consulting Lady Mist. Even locally elected officials trembled in dread whenever she made clear that any of their decisions had displeased her. One wave of Mist's hoof could bring about the end to a career that had taken a lifetime to achieve, and everypony knew it was best to remain on her most amicable side.

However, while Lady Mist might have, to a large extent, controlled the tongues and actions of Gales' leaders, the same could not be said for the common folk. Amongst them rumors about the Lady abounded. One such piece of gossip claimed that lately the Mist family, due to the generational squandering of their fortunes, had fallen into a desperate state of affairs, and had taken up questionable business endeavors in order to replenish their wealth. Another stated that the Lady kept what could be called a collection of hopeful suitors and patrons—none of whom she had any intention of marrying—in order to continue funding her lavish lifestyle. Yet, the most popular piece of hearsay, by far, was the report about the children's ward that Mist kept on her extensive estate grounds. In an obvious attempt to pass herself off as motherly, and a lover of all children, she had ordered the construction of a massive orphanage—the first of its kind—into which she took in these "poor little lost souls", in order to feed, clothe, house, and hopefully raise them to be socially acceptable young foals. In all actuality, at least according to the townsfolk, the young ones were taken in, groomed, and "maintained" by her staff until they could be sold off to rich families who did not have children of their own, or to various artisans or craftsponies as apprentices. It goes without saying that all of Lady Mist's "children" came with a very high price tag. After all, these foals were being raised to be the best of the best, and only the best of the best should ever have come to see them. No words were ever spoken about those young ones who Mist might have claimed were irredeemable. Perhaps nopony wanted to think on it.

On that particular day, there was a large table ladened with drink and cakes for the visitors placed out in the courtyard. Even though Lady Mist had expressly forbidden the wards to partake of them, Misses Clouds had told them all in secret that if offered a treat from the table by a visiting adult, then it would be quite alright. Some of the children played games of jumprope or hide and go seek amongst themselves, while the more emboldened of them approached patrons they found quite interesting, to touch their fine robes or to hear them speak more clearly in their most dignified accents. The quietest of the children usually sat off to themselves doing something like drawing on papers with pieces of colored wax or molding small pieces of cloud near the garden. However, with all these goings on, there was one small, pinkish pegasus that was missing from the festivities.

Aria sat hidden inside of a nook near the outer sidewall of the cloud garden. She was kneeling down on the ground on all four legs, mane a mess and disheveled. There were endless patches on her face and body where she was covered in bruises and dirty rain water. Her head was bowed in silence as she tried to sniff back her enormous tears. The noise of the other children enjoying themselves only caused her more distress, and the sound of what appeared to be Star Dust's voice nearing the garden along with one of the patrons nearly made her scream. Aria wouldn't have ever claimed to hate much of anything or anypony, but that Star Dust, to her, was not a somepony. She was a monster, something unspeakably horrible. The white and yellow filly had it out for her ever since Aria first opened her mouth to sing on her first visitors day, and had unintentionally stolen the attentions of half the patrons to the orphanage. Needless to say, it wasn't difficult for Star Dust to then gather the support of the other children behind her in deeming little Aria a menace and a threat, one that had to be dealt with if any of them could ever hope to be adopted.

At first they would tease her, tell her her voice was strange and ugly, and that was why it had received all of the attention it did. Then the pranks began. Spit in her food, well hidden thunder clouds in her bed, hurling water sacks at the headmistress and other staff, then blaming it on her was par for the course. That alone earned her countless missed meals, and long nights scrubbing the orphanage bathhouses clean. Finally, when all of these things still proved useless in dissuading Aria from her very apparent passion for singing, things became physical. Pinches, punches, and slaps, torn robes, and unraveled ribbons were to be had. She knew by now that it was almost guaranteed that she would end up dirty and bleeding on any given visitors day, and all because of that horrid Star Dust.

Like clockwork, Star Dust and her rotten cohorts had gotten her again today before the first visitor had ever arrived. They had dragged her behind the building, and threatened her about keeping her 'filthy' mouth shut. When she shoved Star Dust in the chest, attempting to stand up for herself despite her smaller size, they showed her just how serious they were by kicking her about, and dousing her in unclean water, making her utterly unpresentable for the day. It was to the garden wall she ran. She had learned that hardly anypony came here, except sometimes for the estate's head guard, Midnight Swift, whom she also despised with all of her being. He had discovered her there one night whilst making his rounds, and even now it was something that Aria had deeply regretted, though she never spoke of why. But today... Today was a visitors day, and she also knew that the grim and almost disturbing sight of Swift sometimes put the patrons off their festive moods. Thus, the Lady had told him long ago to make himself scarce during these occasions. Yes, at least today she knew she would be safe in her secret place. She knew that at least here and now, it would be alright to...

Take me away to the sea, the sea,
Bear me down to that shining shore.
There I shall roll in the depths, the depths,
There I'll know gray skies no m—

"I say! Who could this be? Where is that beautiful sound coming from?" came a distinctly female voice.

Aria gagged herself with a gasp, trying her best to disappear into the nook where she was hidden. She knew that it was expressly forbidden by almost everypony at the orphanage for her to sing for whatever reasons they gave themselves. She knew what would happen if anypony found out. The sound of clouds puffing underhoof could be heard as somepony approached. She saw their casted shadow growing larger and larger until, finally, around the bend came a finely-dressed, pink pegasus. She wasn't quite as old as Misses Clouds, but the wrinkles appearing around her eyes were telling all the same.

When she caught sight of the frightened, disheveled little filly, her eyes went soft. "Oh, darling. There, there," she said edging closer. "What has happened to you? And pray tell, where does one acquire such a lovely voice?"

"I... I..." Aria stammered, eyes darting about nervously to make sure no one else was listening in on the conversation.

However, before she could get anything out, the lady pegasus had scooped her up, set her right upon her legs, and had begun cleaning up her robes. "Come now, child. There is nothing to fear. I am here with you," the pegasus said gently. She thought to herself for a moment before reaching into a fine green purse carried at her side. Pulling out two cookies from the refreshment table in the courtyard, she held them out to the child.

Aria, eyeing her cautiously, reached out, and took one between her teeth. Her eyes brightened ever so slightly at the delicious taste.

The pink mare smiled at her again, took a cookie of her own, and bit down upon it. She then did something rather astonishing. She removed her purse, and sat down before Aria in a rather carefree manner. Pulling the filly close, she contemplated the child's long, unraveled mane. With a mischievous smile, she reached into her purse again, pulling out two, pretty, purple ribbons. Gently, she began running her hooves through Aria's locks, first on the right side of her head, then the left. "Would you believe that I am a singer, as well?" the fancy pegasus said as she gathered one half of Aria's mane together, and tied one of the purple ribbons around it. "Well, I was once a singer. The voice, unfortunately, is only a temporary instrument, but even now, it is still my greatest passion." She then gathered up the other side of Aria's mane, and tied the last ribbon, forming two, rather flattering pigtails.

Aria, quite surprised to hear the mare speaking to her in such a friendly way, could honestly not imagine what would have been the proper thing to say in response to all of this news.

Apparently, she took too long trying to think of something, because as soon as her lips had parted, the older, pink pegasus spoke once again. "Where did you learn that enchanting song, my dear?" she asked, pulling two shorter locks of mane that would not fit neatly into each pigtail down to either side of Aria's face.

Aria fought down the lump in her throat, and decided that, for once, she would follow her heart without fear. She shrugged, and looked down at the clouds under her hooves. "I'm quite sure I do not remember, Madame. I... I guess I've always known it," she replied in a small voice. "It helps me to feel better."

Even without turning around to face the older pegasus, Aria could feel her warm smile upon the back of her neck.

"And have you ever been to the sea, my dear?" the odd noblemare posed.

"Yes," Aria replied, racking her brain for a vision that barely remained. The sight of the setting sun, and the sensation of sand against her belly was something that had somehow ingrained itself upon her young mind. "When I was very, very, very little. I can barely remember it now."

The filly gasped in surprise as she felt the older pegasus' hooves catch her on her sides, and spin her around to face her. She was met with a bright, affectionate smile that she had not quite been expecting.

"Well, then I suppose we will just have to go again, and create a new memory for you. What do you think of that? Would you like to come along with me for a few days? Just to see," the mare posed gently, understanding how nerve racking this entire ordeal must have been for one so young.

At first, the meaning of her words didn't click for Aria. She rolled every possible interpretation around in her head until the only one left that made sense was the one where this kindly mare would take her away from this horrid place. Her eyes lit up in a way that they hadn't for so long, and she immediately lunged forward, embracing the older pegasus. She was almost afraid to let go for fear that something, somewhere, would snatch her away, never to return.

"Well, I suppose that settles it!" the mare laughed.

___

"Aria. What a fitting name. Pray tell, who gave it to you? One of the nurses?" the older pegasus asked as she and Aria strolled slowly back out from the garden wall nook.

"No, Madame Rosedawn. I did," Aria answered enthusiastically as she finished yet another biscuit hanging from her mouth. "My name has always been Aria. This was one of the only things I remembered when I awoke."

"Awoke?" Rosedawn asked, raising an eyebrow. Her wings perked up out of curiosity.

"Yes, on the beach where the rain cloud pegasi found me. They are the ones that brought me here to Gales, to Lady Mist's estate."

"Ah, yes, the patron of our fine city, kind-hearted Lady Mist, lover of all foals," Rosedawn said, making sure that Aria missed the sarcasm leaking from her words. "And how does the Lady Mist see that you are treated? Quite well, I imagine." Rosedawn knew the answer to this question, but she just wanted to see what the young one would say.

Aria said nothing, her head bowed low. She curled into her own body as she trotted along amongst the clouds.

The sight of it was disturbing to Rosedawn, and suddenly she realized she had made a grave mistake. "Your song," the older pegasus breathed, quickly trying to change the subject. "Finish that lovely song for me, my dear. After all, I did interrupt you. Sing it now, and we shall both sing it when we go to the sea."

Aria's heart fluttered whenever Rosedawn mentioned the sea. She didn't know why, but something about it called to her even though she could only speculate that she had seen it but once in her entire young life. That, as she had expressed before, was the day she was discovered upon the shore, tired and soaked to the bone, singing gibberish to herself. That was a song that she no longer could recall. "I would like that very much, Madame," Aria murmured before glancing about quickly to make sure no one was around. When she was sure, she took a deep breath, and parted her lips.

Shed no tear for me, my love...

She couldn't help it. It happened every time she sang. Aria was suddenly quite unaware of the subtleties of her surroundings, already lost deeply in her song. Besides, today for the first time in perhaps ever, she was truly happy. She could think of no better moment to get lost in her tune. Never did she notice how quickly she and Rosedawn had been nearing the courtyard as she sang. Never did she notice how her voice began to echo and reverberate in the most unnaturally beautiful way, as if the very sky itself were singing along. The air harmonized with her as if her happiness itself had taken on a voice of its own. The oval birthmark between her chest and neck began to itch slightly, but she paid it no mind.

For now I've too many to know...

She never noticed how the lively sound of children's laughter and adult chattering slowly disappeared, little by little, to a curious mumble of speculation, and then to awestruck silence.

I pray one day we shall meet again...

She never noticed the look of absolute astonishment and wonder that settled upon Madame Rosedawn's face as she stared at the little marvel with the most ethereal of voices.

And embrace in the fathoms below.

Her eyes were closed as she finished her song, and smiled to herself. Taking a deep breath, she allowed the world around her to slowly come back into focus, only to realize that the air had gone dead silent, save for the sound of hooves upon the clouds as she and Rosedawn turned the corner into the courtyard. Her expression of content immediately fell into one of utter despair as her gaze was suddenly met with the sight of the entire congregation of children, visitors, and staff—Lady Mist and Swift included—gathered in the courtyard. They all stared back at her.

One rather emboldened patron who, by the looks of his soot-covered robe appeared to be some sort of smithy, pointed directly at Rosedawn with his worn and yellowed hoof. "Was that... Did that sound come from you?" he asked with nothing but astonishment in his voice.

It was all Rosedawn could manage to mumble something that barely resembled words, and to then motion, purely by instinct, toward little Aria Blaze who was shrinking into herself more and more.

All of the other children stared at her, huffing and shaking their heads in disappointment. Some were on the brink of tears, knowing from experience what just one "dose" of Aria's voice could do to their own chances on visitor's day. As for Lady Mist, her expression was one of utter fury. Next to her, looking quite fearful, stood Misses Clouds. Without a word, Mist turned her head to stare indignantly at Clouds, and simply pointed toward the grim orphanage doorway, directing her to take Aria inside.

Slowly, the stout, lavender mare approached the filly, sadness and disappointment becoming more and more apparent on her face until they stood in silence before one another. "Come now, child," she sighed in the most weary of voices. "That will be quite enough."

Aria could no longer face her or anypony at this point. Instead, when she saw Clouds' hooves turn, and begin to walk away, she simply followed them, head hanging low. She saw the hooves of Lady Mist stomp quickly past her toward where Rosedawn stood. Before the grim, gray mare could near the fancy pink pegasus, she was already attempting to clarify exactly what had just happened, spewing out words such as "cursed" and "troublemaker". Perhaps it was the last shred of hope in her heart that made Aria glance backward toward Rosedawn. She stared at the mare's face, looking for the same affection, the same promises that had lived there a few moments prior. All she saw there was shaken confusion and worry as the pink mare watched her being led away. Something inside Aria's chest cracked. Suddenly, she became lightheaded, and the world around her felt surreal. Staring up toward the giant, grim, gray clouds of the orphanage's front door, she never noticed the crowd parting right down the center to make way for her. She walked along as if being lead to the gallows, knowing that all of them were hearing the horrible things that Lady Mist was saying about her. Aria knew exactly what was to come now, and perhaps forever after. She knew that there was never to be any song by the sea.

___

Hungry, bruised, and covered in grime, Aria put the final touches on the estate's bathhouse floor, and threw down her scrubber. She had been sent straight away to work without lunch or supper that evening with the promise of much harder labors to come. In the meantime, while the caretakers weren't watching, the other wards mercilessly beat and pummeled her as punishment for her earlier misdeeds.

The rest of the estate had gone to bed long ago, and she alone remained awake, surrounded by the now spotless bath. Staring down into the darkened, dirty bucket of water she had been using to clean, Aria caught sight of her own wretched reflection. She decided that the image suited her quite well before angrily tossing the scrubber into the bucket, accidentally making the water splash all over herself. Sighing again, and accepting what she deemed to be her own extraordinary stupidity, she tucked her soaked and loosened strands of mane back into the now reformed bun she was made to wear. Somehow, it felt as if the damned thing had been pulled even tighter than before, if that were at all possible. Biting down on the handle of the pail, she wearily flapped her wings, and floated upward. Her hooves barely scraped the flooring as she flew out of the back door to dispose of the dirty water.

Pouring the contents of the pail about bit by bit so as not to send a missile of grime hurtling down to any unfortunate souls upon the earth, Aria never once noticed the dark figure who watched her from a small, lit doorway on the other side of the estate's back yard. Her head bolted upward when she heard somepony whistle nearby, trying to catch her attention. Her heart immediately began to race, and her entire body shivered anxiously.

Just ignore it. Just ignore it, she thought to herself.

Breaking her own rule, and quickly dumping the rest of the water out of her bucket in one place, she then immediately picked up the pail, and flapped her wings as hard as she could, preparing to speed off toward the children's quarters. She had only gotten slightly off of the clouds when she heard something large whip past her in the darkened atmosphere. Out of fright, she dropped the pail, and extended her little wings to fly at as fast a speed as they could manage.

Her face careened into a figure that had seemingly glided down from nowhere to block her path. She squealed as she grabbed her nose, and fell back down toward the clouds, hitting them hard with a loud 'POOF'. Groaning in pain, tears forming at the corners of her eyes, it took her a moment to actually regain a sense of where she was.

Slowly, her eyes opened, and out of the blurriness formed the body of a grimey, grim-faced, blue pegasus stallion covered in worn and dented armor. "Well, hello there, Love. And what are you doing out here at this hour?" Swift said, in the most oily, patronizing manner. "Only no goods are out and about this late."

Aria jumped quickly to her hooves, and stood before the much larger stallion, shivering, and staring down at the clouds. Her eyes were wide with fear, and she could not manage through the emotion in order to form a reply.

"You, there! Answer me!" Swift commanded, stomping his hoof down hard, and scaring her into jumping backward.

Aria couldn't help but gawk into his flaming, blood red eyes. "I... I was told to clean the baths, Sir. But I'm done now, Sir," she barely managed to mutter.

"Oh, well if you aren't a right angel," Swift said sarcastically, trotting backward just a bit to take a look for himself through the bathhouse doors. "Impeccable, as usual, little Miss..."

"Aria... Aria Blaze, Sir," she replied.

"Aria Blaze," he repeated, smiling a rather wide and sinister smile. "Beautiful name. Well, Aria Blaze, what say you to a plate of biscuits from the gathering today? Such hard work must surely be rewarded."

"No, Sir! No, thank you, Sir," she blurted, preparing to flap her wings again. "I am very, very sleepy. I must go home now, Sir."

Suddenly, a large hoof reached out before she could get anywhere, caught the very edges of her wings just as they splayed outward, and pinned them down hard to the clouds by the feathers.

Aria stifled a scream, not from pain, but from terror, as she slowly glanced up into those red eyes. For all the fire that could be seen within them, they had somehow gone dull, cold, and very serious.

Tears threatened to stream down her face.

"That crying. You know that I cannot tolerate that accursed crying," Swift growled below his breath.

Aria hit the wall hard as she was thrown into the small, unkept room next to the cellar that Swift called home. As the world swirled around her, she heard the loud sound of the door lock shift into place. The streaks of multi-colored light from the stream of rainbow that fell in the corner to brighten the small room stained the walls as well as the mountains of junk around her. It let off an eerie glow.

Please, please, please...

Before she had even regained her vision, she blindly bolted off in the air toward the sound of the lock, but was caught by a strong front leg. She was carried over near the rainbow fall where she was promptly plopped down onto a crudely formed stool at a crudely formed table, all of them made from gray cloud. Swift did not release her until she had stopped squirming. He then walked away somewhere behind a nearby stack of large boxes. She found this strange, but realized that it was because he was probably sure that she would not be able to figure a way to escape. Eyes darting about the room, she tried to find some hole, some crevice through which she might possibly be able to squeeze in order to evade him. She began to hyperventilate when she found that, indeed, there was none.

She snapped back into the present when a loud 'Clack!' came from before her as a platter of biscuits was placed onto the table. Midnight Swift slowly walked around her, inspecting her closely. Suddenly, with one swift motion, he reached out to the pin that held her mane in place, and snatched it out.

Aria's beautiful strands of purple and green tumbled down about her shoulders. In a way, she was thankful that at least now she could hide her face from him.

"I cannot understand why somepony with such a beautiful mane must be made to pack it away as one would a pile of old winter scarves," Swift muttered to himself as he carelessly tossed the pin away over his shoulder, and continued around the table. He plopped himself down on the other side.

The long silence that followed made Aria want to scream. She prayed to the child miracle Celestia for mercy, wishing that Swift would be struck by a sudden bout of blindness just so that the staring might stop.

"Well? Eat up," Swift said after a while, feigning sudden cheer. He grabbed one of the cookies for himself, broke it in half, bit down upon one piece, and held the other out for Aria. "They are quite good!"

She didn't take it. Her eyes slowly glanced up at him, then down to the plate before her.

Seeing that she was not going to be tempted with treats, Swift dropped the act. His expression became grim once again. "You are the one with the golden voice," he said casually, leaning forward onto the table. "I remembered your beautiful song from when last we met. Come now, dear. Sing me another."

"P-please, S-sir. I m-must go home," she begged one last time in the most pitiful way, her voice shaking erratically. She could manage no more after Swift stood up, reached across the table, and struck her across the face. Gazing up toward him in shock and terror, holding her now doubly sore cheek, she recoiled when, in his eyes, she saw desperation instead of rage.

It was all still strange and quite confusing to her, but gradually, it became something which she knew she simply had to accept. Happening upon her by the garden wall that first evening, Swift had heard her singing, and came rushing to see what its source was. Somehow, in that brief moment, he had managed to acquire what could be called a dangerous addiction to the sound of her voice. He told her it eased the spirit, calmed the mind, and quelled the body better than any other thing he had ever been privy to. Since that evening, Swift had made it clear that he intended to hear whatever song he wished to hear, at whichever time he chose, forcing them out of her in whichever way proved most successful. She remembered the first time that it had happened. He had beaten her and beaten her, forcing her to sing until she was too exhausted to even speak. Then, he beat her some more just to make sure that there was not even one more note left in her. It was a memory that would never leave her for as long as she lived, and now cowering there, she was being forced to relive it.

She could do nothing else but gaze at him, her mind racing. When Swift was sure that she would not object again, he took his seat, and made a motion for her to proceed with the song he had longed for.

In that silence, as the stinging of her cheek began to spread, the reality of Aria's perilous predicament finally dawned on her, and as it did, her own face fell blank. Her eyes went wide and dim, staring straight ahead to nothing in particular. Forcing her body to go numb, she told herself that this horrid situation would eventually come to an end, and repeated this in her mind until she believed it. Something new, something that burned was birthed within her at that moment—a fire of resistance that grew into a rage. It grew and grew, but did not reveal itself upon her surface. She had been born in song. Song was what had saved her, and salvaged her heart on countless occasions. Song had been her only companion in her darkest times, and now here it dangled precariously in front of one who threatened to take even that away from her, to take away her song's ability to allow her some comfort, some escape from this pathetic thing she called her life. It was then and there that she promised herself that no matter how much anypony tried, no matter how many beatings she might receive from Swift or otherwise, she would never allow them to take away her only friend in order to warp and change it into yet another thing that would serve to hurt her.

Somehow, she willed her lips to part, and inhaled deeply. As she did so, she allowed the world around her to disappear, to turn into a place where only she and the song existed. In this place, she knew which song always helped to quell the pains of her heart. Gently, she began to sing, the ethereal sound beginning to fill every last shadowed corner of the small cellar room. She never even noticed Swift leaning forward eagerly, and sighing in complete satisfaction as the melody wrapped itself around his brain. She never even noticed her own tears flowing endlessly as she stared ahead into nothingness. In spite of them, her voice never shook. Assuredly she sang until even she disappeared, and the song was the only thing that existed.

Take me away to the sea, the sea...

Like Those Pitiful Saps

Aria grumbled to herself in between pained coughs as she sorted through the mounds of dirty laundry, notebook paper, and odd electronic components strewn carelessly across her bedroom floor. She cursed when she nicked her finger on a pair of scissors hidden beneath a shirt she had cut the sleeves off of out of sheer boredom. Shaking the finger, and sucking on it for a moment, she then stood up straight, and headed toward her closet.

"These fucking hands. I'll never get used to them," she said as she shook her offended finger one more time, and then began to rummage through the clothing within the closet. Soon, she came across what it was she had been looking for, namely her favourite black baseball cap as well as a rather small, seemingly random screwdriver which had previously been hiding inside the pocket of one of her jackets. "Aha! Jackpot!" she exclaimed to herself, holding both items in either hand. Nearly gouging out one of her eyes as she moved to put on her cap without first putting down the screwdriver, Aria then decided it would be best for her to calm down, and take things slowly.

This wasn't the first time she had been late for work, but it was the first time she was going to be late after having begged her boss for a change in her schedule. Aria used to think that she simply was not a morning person, having lost her affinity for rising before the crack of dawn about a millennia and a half ago. In all actuality, it was schedules that she really hated. People expecting things of her that she did not want to deliver on, especially if it benefited her in no way, was something that she quite despised. She had thought she had been done with doing things like that for over two thousand years. Back in Equestria, when she had her full powers, this sort of thing never happened. There were no schedules and no promises to keep. The entire world seemed to revolve around her, and that was exactly how she had liked it.

Alas, times had changed. Now, she found herself nearly falling down face first in the hallway attempting to somehow run out of her room whilst tying the laces on one of her combat boots at the same time. It was all to get to her shitty little job where she would be surrounded by shitty little people asking shitty little questions for the rest of her shitty eternity. At least she could be thankful for the job's one, miniscule saving grace...

She rubbed her tired eyes, and slipped on her cap as she cursed to herself again, and made a quick dash to Adagio's room. Storming in as if she owned the place, she marched right up to her sister siren's vanity table, and snatched a pair of black, clearly expensive, designer sunglasses that were sitting atop of it. Sliding the glasses into place upon her face, she scoffed at the notion that 'Adagio the witch' might ever think to keep anything from her that she was set on having. She then marched out of the room, slamming the bedroom door behind her. Quickly making her way down the stairs, she stuffed a purple wallet, a half emptied pack of cigarettes, and her screwdriver into her jacket pockets before running out of the door.

___

"Long night?" the young man with stark red skin and brown hair said while stifling a laugh as Aria barged into the instrument repair shop.

Sneaking through the door to the back room, she quickly passed him a deadly glare. "Shut up, Mud," she spat as she darted around the room, trying as silently as she could to put her things away, and look as if she had been there twenty minutes prior.

"Seriously, though, who hit you with what size truck?" the red man laughed in his country accent, ignoring her threats.

Aria took her place on the stool beside him. She pulled over a gorgeous boutique electric guitar she had been babying for the past week, and got to work unscrewing the back plate with the screwdriver she had retrieved from her pocket. Despite this, she had forgotten that Adagio's glasses were still sitting upon her face. As the man laughed, she could hear a loud rustling behind a door on the opposite side of the room. She began to sweat. "I swear to God, Wheeler," she threatened him, her voice wavering nervously.

Muddy Wheeler was one of the biggest jerks that Aria had had the displeasure of knowing in this town, besides that infernal hoard of singing, giggling, hugging destruction that roamed the halls back at CHS, of course. Wheeler, on the other hand, didn't do any of those things. He was one of those special kinds of self-obsessed blockheads who, along with his good looks and wannabe rebel vintage car, had just assumed he was personally bestowed upon all women as a gift from the heavens. The worst part?—He was excellent at hiding it behind a greasy veneer of fake charm and semi-entertaining jokes. If only he could know that along with the ever present trail of negative energy that any halfwit siren could see leaking from his very pores, the experience that also came along with Aria's age had given her an incredible sense of perception when it came to the subtleties of other people's personalities. After over two thousand years of existence, there wasn't much that she and her comrades couldn't tell about others just by looking at them—if they were actually trying, that is. Hell if she knew how the Rainbooms had managed to pull the wool over their eyes. Wheeler hadn't pulled the wool over her eyes, and while it was a fact that his hidden, negative thoughts encompassed him, Aria still considered him to be rather harmless.

"Alright, alright! I'm done!" Wheeler said, jokingly raising his hands in defeat. A couple seconds of silence ensued after this. "But was it a whiskey truck? OW!"

Aria withdrew her fist quickly, and then pointed a finger in the man's face, but before she could get any words out, she heard the loud sliding of furniture and papers from the door behind them. She could hear a few gruff coughs before the thunder began raining down.

"Is that Aria? Tell that good for nothin' to bring her scrawny ass back here!" yelled a woman's voice.

Both Aria and Wheeler froze where they sat. A self-gratifying smile spread across Wheeler's face as he shrugged at Aria, almost as if he could shake off his own guilt at having gotten her into trouble. "Alright, Cookie!" he yelled, then turning to face the terrified-looking girl. "Aria, Cookie would like to have a word with you." His words came calmly, and dripping with ill gotten satisfaction.

Silently threatening him with a beating once more, Aria then turned her attention to the more important matters at hand. Taking a deep breath, and exhaling as she slammed her screwdriver down onto the workbench, she slowly got to her feet, straightened her hair and clothing, and began what she deemed a slow death march toward her boss' office door.

Taking another deep breath as she stared at the closed door, she held it, and quickly stepped inside. "Cookie, I know what it looks like, but I can explain," she blurted as she stared down at the cinnamon-skinned, late twenty, early thirty-something, poofy-haired woman that sat at the desk before her, shuffling through papers.

As Aria spoke, the woman never even looked up at her. A long pause ensued after she said this until, finally, Cookie took a moment to glance up. She swept the huge, haloing puff of white hair away from her hidden hazel eyes, revealing a rather striking white patch of a birthmark that encircled the left one."Well? I'm waiting," she said, holding her stack of papers.

In her line of sight, Aria's entire body went stiff. Her eyes went wide, and a huge lump grew in her throat. It was the strangest thing. Cookie Dough was one of those rare, enigmatic, mortals that Aria couldn't quite wrap her mind around, and it thrilled her. She never spoke much about her own history, but on the few times she was actually being amicable to Aria, say if they were out for drinks after a particularly difficult day, the pigtailed girl could always count on learning something new and fascinating about her. Cookie had been born and raised in a small town, settled in the big city, and, in the end, had returned to yet another small town. Between those events, she had held just about every job that one could imagine, as well as all the adventures that came along with them, most of which Aria had yet to hear about. She had first been a cook in her family's house where she showed great prowess in the craft of baking, had gone to culinary school while playing electric guitar in a number of bands in her free time, until finally she opened up her own restaurant before realizing that being a chef just wasn't her cup of tea. After she closed down the place, she hit the road, living out of her RV and picking up whatever job she could find, from diner cook to mechanic, to, after a few alterations on her RV, a moving bed and breakfast hostess. Eventually, she realized that music was her passion, and settled down here to open up her very own instrument and instrument repair shop. Even after all this, Aria knew that Cookie's well ran even deeper, and there were so many more stories to be told. After so many centuries of countless faces and boring personalities, people like her were always refreshing, almost magical, and all of these thoughts now showed blatantly upon Aria's face.

She took a deep breath. "Ok, so I don't have a good explanation," she admitted, looking up at the ceiling with exasperation. " But, please, Cookie, I swear to you that this is the very last time."

She recoiled when she saw the other woman grimace, her eyes burning into Aria in a way that made her anxious.

"Kay, darlin', why don't you have a seat?" Cookie sighed, motioning to the chair on the other side of her desk.

As Aria slowly moved to sit down, to her horror, she saw Cookie pull a hairband from off of her wrist and tie her big poof back away from her face. The former siren knew from experience that this was never a good sign when it happened.

"And take those damn sunglasses off, will ya?" the hazel-eyed woman yelled.

Aria snatched them off, quickly placing them down on the desk. She knew that the shadows around her eyes looked bad in the horrid fluorescent light of Cookie's office, but somehow she managed to meet her gaze, despite the worried expression that flashed across the other woman's face.

"Listen, I don't know what's goin' on with you right now, Aria, but I know it's goin', and I'm sympathetic to that. I really am. But I'm tryin' to run a business here, got me? Now, you're one of the best instrument docs I've ever met, and believe me, that's sayin' a lot, but Doll, I can't have you showin' up late every day. That just ain't good for business." Cookie sighed heavily, and began to shake her head as if she were trying to decide upon something.

Aria recognized the warning signs, spotting slight glimmers of green smoke beginning to halo the woman's head. She leaned forward onto her boss' desk. "Cookie? Cookie, no. You don't understand. I need this job. You've gotta give me another chance. I promise this won't happen again. Please!" she begged looking as if she might grab the woman by the collar and throttle her.

Cookie stared at Aria for a moment, arms crossed, and expression rather skeptical. She peered at her as if she were waiting for something to happen.

Eventually the younger girl rolled her eyes and sighed. "I'll buy you an entire pint at Bubble's tonight, deal?" she muttered.

A crack of a smile broke out on Cookie's face as she cocked an eyebrow in Aria's direction. "Bribery, eh?" Cookie laughed.

Aria's expression remained rather stern. "Desperate times call for desperate measures," the dour girl deadpanned.

Cookie thought for a moment, but by the way she was smiling, Aria knew she had the woman hook, line, and sinker. In all actuality, it was a small price to pay considering she would be getting to spend time with one of the few beings, mortal and immortal alike, who didn't cause her mental distress.

"Alright, deal," Cookie said, hitting her desk with her palm for emphasis. She immediately pulled her big, white poof out of the hair band, letting it fall back into place over her eyes. She stood up with a smile and stretched her back out. "But, I swear, Aria, if you're late even one more time..."

"I won't be. I promise," Aria assured her, exhaling with relief. Her head tilted backward against the back of the chair. It was then that she caught Cookie leaning on her desk, staring at her. Becoming anxious, once again, Aria's eyes darted about until finally she found the nerve to pipe up. "What? What is it?"

"Nothin'," Cookie lied. "It's just that, I still don't believe you're... How old did you say you were again?"

Aria's jaw immediately tightened as she tried to hide the gritting of her teeth through a very pained and very forced smile. If it was one thing that she absolutely despised after all these years, it was mortals and their endless prying about her age. This was yet another thing that she could blame Adagio for. Back in Equestria, she and her fellow sirens had indeed stopped physically aging around the end of their teens, but the forms that they were able to take, because of their expansive power, were numerous. If they chose to appear as elderly earth ponies, or pegasus fillies whilst they hunted for their fills of negative energy, they could. However, having deemed one's teenage years the most volatile and tumultuous time of anypony's life, Adagio had preferred that form. Teenagers were easy to hunt, easy to manipulate, and easy to drain, as far as she was concerned, and Aria had to admit that at the time she had agreed, but when Star Swirl the Bearded had banished them to this forsaken place, it was in their teenaged forms that they were swept away, and it was in their teenaged forms that they were to remain, never again being able to muster the same amount of power to change themselves. Aria was grateful, at least, for the fact that in this world teenagers also appeared to be of a rather turbulent spirit. That guaranteed that at least they would not starve. Nevertheless, today, she wished that she had time to put on some damn makeup. When done well, at least that managed to age her enough to give her some reprieve from these incessantly blood-boiling inquiries.

"Oh," she managed to laugh. "Don't worry, I'm definitely older than twenty-one... hundred." She muttered the last part so low that Cookie didn't hear it.

The woman nodded in satisfaction, and began to walk around the desk. "Well, you sure do hold your liquor like a disillusioned forty year old, that's for damn sure," the woman joked as she passed by, playfully flipping one of Aria's pigtails over her shoulder. "Now, get outta my office. I'm goin' out to eat."

At the smell of Cookie's perfume as she passed, and the sensation of the woman's fingers brushing against her arm, Aria's body stiffened. She felt her face threatening to burn up. Thank goodness she was already rose-colored. Feeling rather light-headed, she quickly jumped to her feet, shoved her hands into her pockets, and followed Cookie back out into the work room. She marched rather mechanically in a poor attempt to not look fazed by the other woman's presence. The last thing on her mind at that moment was remembering to retrieve Adagio's sunglasses from where they sat upon the woman's desk.

She quickly took her seat back on the workbench where Wheeler was busy trying to figure out some kid's busted trombone.

"Forty minutes," Cookie yelled as she grabbed her bomber jacket off of a nearby wall hook, jingling the keys from the pocket around her fingers. "Hold down the fort!" She then disappeared out of the room and through the front door.

Aria watched her until she was gone, the expression on her face unreadable. With a sigh, she snatched her screwdriver back up, and immediately got back to work. She never noticed that Wheeler had been practically staring a hole into the side of her face the entire time she had been watching Cookie.

"Say, Aria," he finally spoke up, arms crossed, leaning against the workbench. "So, how come you and me haven't gone out yet, huh?"

"Hmm, maybe it's because you're a sleaze? Not sure, but that's probably it," Aria replied, pointing a sarcastically sweet grin in his direction.

"Ouch," he said grabbing his chest dramatically. "Now, what have I ever done to you? What's the problem, huh? You batting for the other team or somethin?"

This made Aria instinctively pause what she was doing. She could feel Wheeler's stupid smile on the side of her face. Taking a deep breath, she then slammed her screwdriver down, and slowly turned her stool so that she could face him directly with a steely expression. She cocked an eyebrow at him. "As a matter of fact, Wheeler, I do bat for the other team, and also the same team. Lots of teams, even. Except, of course, for whichever team is your team," she said calmly before fluttering her lashes at him, rolling her eyes, and turning back toward the guitar she had been working on.

Wheeler, his ego clearly bruised, forced a laugh, and shook his head as he got back to his project as well. He tried not to show any reaction, but it was clear by his tightened jaw, and the billows of green smoke that she perceived escaping from his body, that Aria had successfully gotten to him. "You're really somethin' else, aren't you, Aria Blaze?" he muttered, almost threateningly.

"You really have no idea," she replied, unfazed, her eyes still on her work.

____

Not too long ago, Sonata Dusk was an immortal, energy-sucking bastion of chaos, alright, but one with a very clear philosophy for living. That philosophy, as odd as it might have seemed, was to just keep things simple. Sure, it might have been a personal ideology that no one else understood, including her fellow former sirens. However, one great truth that she never uttered out loud to them when they would verbally attack her for her supposed slow-wit was the fact that the two of them were usually terribly miserable, and thus, inadvertently trapped themselves within terribly miserable lives of their own making.

She wasn't exactly sure when it had first hit her to put a filter on her mind and the things she would allow herself to become too emotionally invested in. Maybe it was some time around the great plagues. Or, perhaps it was during the French Revolution. No, nevermind. That one was kind of fun. Oh, who could keep all of these human woes straight after watching a thousand years of the most minute to the most grandiose calamities go by, especially since she and her companions had been the cause for quite a few of them? There were seemingly so many reasons to lament about this, and cry about that, and after a time, Sonata watched as even her sister sirens began to get drawn into the silliest conflicts of everyday human life, quarreling over someone's goat getting into their fields, or mourning over a red wine stain on an expensive robe à la française. What did these tiny, earthly things really matter? Sonata, clearly, had been the only one to realize that they didn't that much.

Not to say that she didn't enjoy the occasional simple pleasure of a new dress, or a much-needed mani/pedi, but to allow these very mortal, very temporary things to live in her forever, to slowly beat against her like the waves against the rocks on the shore instead of rolling delightfully off of her back like droplets of water, seemed silly. If she opened herself up to every little irritant, every little qualm, what would have been left after all this time?—Nothing but an empty shell, that's what. Sonata didn't understand how Aria and Adagio had managed to make it through all of these ages with most of their sanity intact.

The fleeting seasons, or smell of a sweet perfume—that was life to her. Tender kisses from a summer love in the dark, and all of the glorious food. The temporary nature of all of these things only worked to enhance their beauty. It wasn't something that Sonata thought she should mourn. And, of course, there was the music. Oh, how the changing music of the ages thrilled her. Countless incantation songs had been born within her just by inspiration of the age alone. The refrains that left her lips were powerful as the whizzing of the thoughts that buzzed through her brain.

Perhaps she might look at a newborn baby, finding it interesting how wrinkles showed up at the very edges of what was mortal life, and make a seemingly silly comment like, "That baby looks like that nice grandpa guy that lived next door to us in London." Or maybe the sight of her plucking flowers whilst contemplating the very fragility of their existence might have appeared to her sisters, and any other onlookers, as her simply picking stupid flowers.

"Silly Sonata", they would say. "Sonata, go back to sleep." What they didn't know was how very much awake she had been, and though she might have appeared to be what these lovely little temporary creatures called "spaced out," she knew that absolutely no one could fault her for not being mentally present and aware when it counted. Whenever Adagio had a plan, she knew what to do. Whenever she received an order from her elder sistren in song, there was never any questioning it. It was done. But after it was done, she would allow her mind the opportunity to fly free once again. So, she came off as a little bit dopey. So what?

However, things had indeed changed very much during the past few months following the Battle of the Bands. Being stripped so unceremoniously of her powers, her melodious magic, and in a sense, her life blood, had been the second most eye-opening moment of Sonata's long, long life. It was exceeded only by the moment when she first gained full realization and control over her abilities many ages ago. Now, suddenly, everything about her eternal philosophy had changed. Never before had she been required to worry or want for food, for water, for shelter, or any of those seemingly "silly" things that she had once found endearing about mortals, all whilst charming away the hard earned fruits of their labors from their very fingertips. Only once before had she been expected to give up so many hours out of each and every day—hours that she would usually reserve for her colourful ruminations—to instead, toiling for sustenance. That was an old, nameless time, a time that she would much rather never remember again. Yet, as she marched off to work dutifully, day in and day out, those dark things, long gone, seemed more and more to rise up out of the past to haunt her.

She had to admit, the hard, mundane work, the lack of having her thoughts all to herself, and not to mention the withdrawals from not being able to consume precious negative energy had taken their toll on her, both mentally and physically. Her ability to withstand her anxieties and things that might have been called guilt weakened. Her dreams were turning sour, and the hours of her sleep shortened with each passing week. She didn't know why, but lately a suffocating sensation had gathered about her neck, and remained there.

Alas, the ones who loved and watched out for her had needed her help, and to her, there was no question about whether or not she would be there for them. To her it was love, besides song and music, that was the most precious, eternal thing in the universe, even more so than life itself, and unlike those horrible Rainbooms, Sonata knew in her ever-beating heart that you didn't have to be a damned saint or sparkly "better-than-thou" princess to give or deserve love. You certainly didn't have to be of a pristine personality to get it. Being a former siren, she should know that. None of these conclusions felt wrong to her. To her, there were only delights and sorrows, and the many different paths to getting them both.

There was one thing, however, that she could not tolerate, something that she could leave no gray area for. To leave the one who gives you delight, or worse yet, their love without due repayment, to her, was an unforgivable sin. Thus, if Adagio and Aria needed her to work a thousand more hours a week, she would surely have done it, and still it would not be enough for what she owed them. For, how could she ever repay those who had given her the greatest gift of love she had ever known?

"Two cheeseburgers, one with extra pickles, a chili dog deluxe, and three choco shakes!" Sonata yelled, forcing some cheer and pep into her voice as she slid each dish quickly onto a table full of hungry young men. "Can I get you fellas anything else?"

One of the young men, looking the pretty blue girl over, passed a sly glance toward his friends, and then turned to smile at her. "Yea, uh, Sonata," he began, taking a moment to read her nametag. "There is just one more thing. Now, rumor has it that out of all the shakes in this joint, you've got the best. So, how 'bout it?"

Sonata's smile went bright, and the rather sleazy nature of the man's request zipped right over her head as she took a step backward away from the table. "Well, those rumors are totally true!" she said giving a quick twirl and a cute shake in beat with the jukebox music that played loudly in the restaurant. Passing a wink toward the table, she then walked away smiling, and left the boys in the middle of an uproarious cheer. The whistling and hooting could still be heard as she disappeared behind the kitchen door to fetch another order.

"Sorry, running a little behind!" J.R. called to all four of the restaurant's other waitresses who lingered about near the doorway, fanning themselves with their trays every minute or so as they waited for their next orders to come up.

As Sonata entered, one particularly pretty, orange haired girl with big, green, angel eyes glanced through the door's glass window to the table of content customers the former siren had just left behind. "Man, Sonata. You're amazing. That's another huge tip for you, I bet. I can't even do the hokey pokey without falling on my butt," she moaned.

Sonata walked over to lean on the table next to her, and nudged her affectionately in the arm. "Oh, come on, Peach. It's really not that hard. Here, I'll teach you! You just hop and shake and hop and shake. See?"

Peachy Keen observed Sonata with amusement before, with a little resistance, she took a small hop herself, and did an awkward shake. "You've got it already!" Sonata giggled encouragingly. "We'll call it the Peach Shake!"

The two girls giggled amongst themselves, never once noticing the other three standing idly by, staring them down judgmentally.

After a while, one cream-skinned girl standing nearest them stood up straight, and approached. "You know, Sonata, it's fine if you wanna prance around, slutting it up for the college lunchtime crowd for extra cash you know they don't have, but you don't have to drag innocent little Peach into your... dubious ways," she said, flipping her dark brown hair, and allowing it to fall back over one of her sparkling, blue eyes.

The two dancing girls immediately faltered in their step, and then froze to stare at her with hurt expressions plastered on their faces. Sonata, who was never very good with witty quips, opened her mouth to say something, but when words failed her, her gaze fell to the floor.

Peachy, noticing this, stroked Sonata's shoulder, and then turned an angry eye toward the brunette. "Hey! Lay off of her, Patti! She isn't being a slut, okay? What's wrong with liking to dance?"

"Nothing!" Patti said, feigning innocence as she shook her hands. "If you're good at it, that is."

"Oh yea?" Sonata managed to blurt finally. "Well, the customers like my dance, Patti. That's all that matters."

All three of the other girls laughed mockingly at her. One orange-skinned girl with green and brown streaked hair popped the gum she had been sluggishly chewing on. She rolled her brown eyes, and approached the group to stand next to Patti. "Come on, Son-ny," she cooed. "Are you really that naive? It isn't your jig that the customers like."

"Yea, it's your jugs," called the last girl from behind them both before all three of them broke out into hysteric laughter.

Wiping a stray tear from her eye, Patti quelled her laughing long enough to take a deep breath. "Amongst other things, that is. Aw, come on, Sonny. You're a cute girl. You've got assets, and you get your tips. Kudos to you. But let's not act all innocent about what it is you're doing. Crude manipulation, is what it is."

The former siren's raspberry-colored eyes darted back up toward Patti, now on fire. They peered at her sharply. As she watched the pungent, green vapors begin to emanate from the three sneering girls before her, her jaw tightened to hold back words she knew she was forbidden to say.

Sonata could decipher girls like Patti Mint and her cohorts, Pumpkin Spice and Candy Ice, all too well. It wasn't difficult. Envy was a very common human emotion, one rooted in the inability to accept one's own imperfections. Back in Equestria when she still had her full powers, Sonata would devour the energy of ponies with personalities like this as if they were mere snacks. Of course, once being banished to this world it was a bit harder, but still, these types were the easiest of them all to coerce into feeling inadequate, to compel to lash out negatively. They speak of manipulation? If only they had known her in her prime. With all of that foul energy that surrounded the girls, she would have quickly made mindless food bags out of each of them. Still, the jabs of these worthless words stuck her hard. For some reason they always did, even coming from strangers. Of course, she would forget after a while, but the feeling of not being accepted, of being shunned instead of loved, was something terrible to her. It was a soft and scarred over part of her heart that still pained horribly when prodded. Again, shaking ancient thoughts from her mind, she huffed heavily and stared away out of the glass door window, into the main dining area without speaking again to any of them.

The minutes passed by slowly, and as the former siren continued to look through the glass window, the orders for the other girls came up, one by one. Soon, only she was left waiting. The table of college fellows appeared to be finishing up their meal, and she sighed heavily thinking again about what Patti and her friends had said. It wasn't because it made her question her ethics. Despite what one would think, Sonata was very clear on what she wanted, and how she was willing to go about getting it. Instead, it was simply that horrid lack of acceptance that still bothered her.

Her sigh caught J.R.'s attention as he frantically tried to finish the last large order before his late afternoon break. He looked up to her quickly, only to catch her chewing her pinkie nail as she was apt to do whilst deep in thought. Attempting to double task, he decided to speak up. "You know, you shouldn't listen to those girls," he began after clearing his throat. "They're idiots."

This drew unexpected giggling from the pretty blue girl as his statement reminded her of something Adagio would say. She was quick to stifle herself upon viewing the confused expression upon J.R.'s face. "Oh, they're not idiots," she said wistfully, glancing again out of the small, round window. "They're just unhappy."

"Yea, well, that still isn't a good reason to take it out on you, but what do they know? Everyone else loves you, Sonny," J.R. said, trying not to sound too self conscious about making such a statement. "So, what does it matter that those three don't, right?"

At that moment, Sonata caught a glance of Patti through the glass as the brunette was turning to face her direction. Catching Sonata's gaze, Patti didn't hesitate to stick out her tongue in a mocking fashion at the glum, blue girl. She then turned to walk away toward another table.

"Right," Sonata muttered, smirking ruefully to herself.

The sound of J.R.'s voice faded into the distance as she caught sight of the table of young men once again. They had just pulled out their wallets, and were calculating a tip which they were placing in a separate pile.

Sonata watched the boys, unmoved as bill after bill fell into the pile, enamored grins on their faces. Big tip again, just as Peach had predicted, but to her it didn't matter. She already knew that those boys adored her, as they should, because naturally she was lovable. But she just couldn't tolerate, nor could she understand anyone who did not. And so, just like that, another preoccupation was born in her mind. Patti and her friends were all she could see at the moment, and the want of their love, the desire for them to know that she was a phenomenal person, took over. Her first inclination was to give them things, but she quickly shook this notion from her thoughts. She had fallen prey to such self-depreciating ideas in the past, and it had proven utterly detrimental. Suddenly, as if she were struck by some invisible force, a vision flashed before her eyes, and instead of dollar bills falling to the table, she saw gold Equestrian bits. Instead of the faces of young men, she saw the deeply entranced and enthralled faces of a crowd of cheering ponies. As her mind zipped back to the present, a once familiar and mischievous smile slowly spread across her face.

"Order up!" J.R. yelled right at that moment. The grin on his face evidenced how proud he was feeling about the speech he had given to Sonata which had mostly gone unheard.

Turning to smile brightly at him, Sonata approached, and snatched up the hoard of dishes onto her serving tray. "Thanks, J.R.!" she called as she winked at him, and disappeared through the door.

After hurrying off to deliver her latest batch of orders, Sonata then walked over to the now empty table where the young men once sat. There, she pulled out the bill payment as well as her tip. Quickly counting through the cash, she silently nodded to herself. This should be enough to cover it.

Waiting around the empty booth, out of the corner of her eye, Sonata watched as Patti finished up for the moment at one of her own tables, and headed back toward the kitchen. She then made her move. Acting quickly, she walked over to Patti's table where sat a rather kind-looking family, complete with a small boy. Once there, she smiled brightly and waved. "Afternoon, folks. I just came on over to personally say sorry for the long wait times we've been having today. We're down a cook, but we still hope that your service has been great!"

The man and woman looked at each other quizzically before passing an equally polite smile back to the cheery, blue girl. "Oh, everything's been fine! No problems at all with service!" said the man.

If the family would have looked closely at Sonata's face at that very moment, they would have noticed the small traces of dull irritation growing around her eyes.

"Not as off the charts as you, of course, but still good," the woman finished in a more soft, almost careful voice.

This made Sonata's eyes brighten up again. "Oh shucks, well, I just enjoy putting smiles on all of these faces. No, biggie. You all just let your waitress know if you need anything else," she said gleefully, turning to walk away. The family never caught the sudden, devilish look in her eye. "Hopefully, she won't take too long with your free sundaes."

She could almost hear the family blink to themselves. "W-wait a sec!" the man called. "What free sundaes? Our waitress didn't tell us about that."

Sonata grinned brightly, but hid it just in time to turn around, feigning a puzzled look. "For realzies? Well, because of the wait times, we've been offering our super duper, special free sundaes to customers. Gosh, that's the third time today she's forgotten." She waited just long enough to see the most disappointed of expressions growing upon the little boy's face. "Not to worry!" she exclaimed. "I'll get right on it for you. Actually, I'll bring them out first. Our customers' happiness is key!"

And with that, Sonata marched away to go put the sundaes together herself. Afterward, she quickly walked back out while the other waitresses, Patti included, rolled their eyes at how enthusiastic she always was about working this supposedly hum drum job. Reaching the table, she slid the delicious looking sundaes out to each of them. "Here you go! I even put a special treat on yours, little guy," she said with a smile, motioning toward the rainbow-colored sprinkles on the young boy's sundae.

"Wow! Thank you, lady!" the boy exclaimed right before he dug in.

"Well, you have just been absolutely fabulous," the woman breathed with a smile. "If you don't mind, would you wait for us for the rest of our time here?"

"Yea," the man continued. "To be perfectly honest, the last girl was kinda, yknow... rude."

"Marsh!" the woman scolded him. He quickly turned, cleared his throat, and began to eat his own sundae to fill his troublesome mouth.

Sonata could barely contain her smile at this point, but somehow managed to force a tortured look. "Well, if that is what you would like, then of course. The customer is always right after all!"

"See? Now that's quality service," the man said to his wife with a mouth full of ice cream, motioning toward Sonata. "Young lady, you keep up the great work, and expect a big tip." The man passed a wink to her as he glanced around jovially.

Sonata, feigning gratefulness, quickly thanked them, and headed back toward the cash register. Pulling out the tip money she had made prior, she punched in the amounts for the three desserts she had given them, and paid for them out of her tip money. She bit her lip self consciously. If Adagio ever found out about this, she knew she'd be in big trouble. However, considering the circumstances, everything inside of her agreed that this was something that must be done. As she watched Patti Mint exit the kitchen, once again, and walk up to the family's table, she paid close attention to their body language as they hastily informed her of their change in choice of waitresses. Something jubilant grew inside of her chest as she watched Patti spin around to pass a confused glare her way. The brunette then marched in a shamed rage back to the kitchen, trailing mounds of green energy smoke behind her, enough to make Sonata's mouth water. The blue girl watched her go, smiling brightly to herself. This just proved what she had been thinking all along. Not everything was about the money. Some things, after all, were about the principle.

Roundabout

"Sonata? Sonata Dusk!" a female voice rang out over the rolling, grassy knolls. The sun had just about disappeared behind the horizon, and the sky was the most magnificent mix of purples and pinks.

A small, blue pony, trotted amongst the flowers with a filled water bucket hanging from her mouth. She quickened her pace when she heard the call. "Cmfg Mvvrrrm!" she yelled through her teeth, almost dropping the pail in the attempt.

Sonata Dusk could have kicked herself for losing track of the time, yet again, but how could she resist spending a few peaceful moments with as gorgeous a view as the meadows at sunset? The day had been long and grueling, as most were, and that special space between afternoon and evening was usually her only small chance to breathe. So, she had taken the opportunity thinking her mother and father would be none the wiser.

After a day's worth of singing—her absolute favorite thing to do—she had been sent down to the valley to fetch cooking water from the well therein. Whilst there, she had listened to the few fading sounds of songbirds, and couldn't resist humming along with them. The birds were much wiser than ponies, as far as she was concerned; for, at least they had the sense enough to know that moments like these dripped music, and were ripe with magic. Moments like these should never go to waste.

As she spotted her family's cottage on the hill coming into view, Sonata took a moment to place her bucket down in order to retie the sackcloth shawl she wore about her shoulders. This was done as a way of shrouding the large, round birthmark that sat in the space between her chest and neck. Her mother thought it a bit too unsightly, and so she had made her the meager shawl in order to hide it. It wasn't much, but it was the best her parents could do. Her mother had even embroidered a row of blue crescent moons about the borders, just for her. Sonata smiled at the sight.

Hearing her name called one last time, she picked up the bucket, and raced the rest of the way to the cottage. As she turned the bend into the gate, and neared the front door where a spindly, yellow, dull-faced mare awaited her, the child's eyes brightened. Running up quickly, she nearly tripped into the other pony, almost spilling the contents of the bucket all over her simple but neat robe.

Hiking up her hems, the mare took a step back angrily. "Sonata! You almost got me wet!" she yelled.

"Aprggss Mvvr!" Sonata muttered before finally spitting out the bucket handle, and smiling apologetically up at the mare. "Apologies, Mother. My mistake."

"Do you know how late you are?" the mare yelled, ignoring the blue filly's apology. "You should have started on supper ages ago. Your father is famished!" She nudged the young one into the cottage, bucket in tow.

Passing the small main room, awash in oil lamp light, Sonata raced by a stout, equally as yellow, bearded stallion. He stared crossly at her as she ran into the back rooms. "Famished!" he yelled, echoing the mare's words.

"Yes, Father! Apologies, Father!" Sonata yelled from the back as the sounds of pots and pans could now be heard clinking and crashing.

The blue filly now moved with much urgency, very much cross with herself for having upset Master Fylleion and his wife. She chastised herself silently, knowing that she should try harder to do better, be more behaved, be more disciplined, especially considering all that the pair had done for her. They had fed her and taken her into their home when no one else would. They had allowed her to sing to her heart's content—at strictly designated times, of course. They had loved her by giving her a place to call home. Surely, she was not repaying that love in kind. Surely, they would see that, and think of what a horrid little filly she was. She could not allow that to happen, ever. The pair meant the world to her, and she was obliged to show them that.

Fylleion and his wife, Thistle, were tenant farmers on the lands of Lord Goldenstalks. They grew small greens. Besides owning this quaint little cottage far out into the countryside, they were also put in control of farming the wide spread of land that bordered the meadows for thistle, dandelion, clover, and all other sorts of miniscule edibles that usually went into the nightly stew they ate—a stew that, quite frankly, Sonata was sick of. Of course, she dared not express such an ungrateful sentiment to the pair whom she now thought of as her mother and father.

In the early summers, the greens would be plentiful, and the labor to harvest them was difficult. They had told Sonata once before that it had been a blessing that she had shown up when she did. She was happy to be needed, and helped out as much as she could, proud when her bunches of greens gradually became bigger and bigger than any the two adults would harvest. Despite the hard work, they had given her life meaning. Before the Master and Mistress, there were only cold streets, and roaming from door to door during the evening times, singing for table scraps.

Sonata had almost always had confidence in her voice and her song. Before her adoptive parents, it was the one thing in the world she could trust to provide for her, and to convey exactly what it was she was trying to say. Naturally, it had taken a while for her to discover all this. For in the beginning, after waking up on that strange beach with only memory of her name, she had been mostly a mute. Nothing was wrong with her, of course. Perhaps she had been just a tad afraid, a touch too daydreamy, and a bit uninterested in speaking—an apprehension that would stick with her for her entire life. Thus, almost by instinct, she simply began to wander about the nearby coastal town of Greenwaters in silence, foraging for food through piles of daily wastes. She quickly blended into a sea of faces that could care less about her, a nopony. If she found nothing to eat during the day, she would be satiated by singing herself to sleep at night near the back kitchen door of the town's bakery, where it was warm. These were the only times when sound escaped her mouth, and her song would always seem to calm her growling stomach. In between all this, she would always make sure to visit the beach where she first remembered waking up, a place which she had loved from the start. Sometimes, if the weather was warm enough, she would sleep there instead.

One morning, after having gone three whole days without food, and not having the mettle nor the skill to pickpocket, in her delirium, she had begun to sing to herself where she sat on the side of the road. It was a glum, slow, rather absurd song that seemed to fit the poor, blue filly's bewildered state of mind.

Oh, roundabout. Oh, round I go,
For a bit of bread and butter,
Or a massive pie about my height,
Or a cake in every color.

She fell backward, feeling too weak to sit upright. In her rash attempt to quiet the desperate thoughts that now raced through her mind, she never noticed a small colt—white of fur with brown mane, and seemingly equal in age to herself—approach her. Slowly, the young one began to smile at her song, then began to dance, clacking his hooves against the ground. By and by, she looked up at him. For a moment, seeing what joy she had given him, and realizing that he had actually noticed her, she seemed to forget about her troubles. Slowly, she stood, beginning to sing louder and faster. As she did, it seemed the song, which usually took on a sarcastically melancholy tone, became more and more jovial and whimsical. Gradually, faces turned, and strained to see from where such a lovely, rich, little voice had come, and as more did, they all began to stomp their hooves in rhythm to the delightfully addictive tune.

Oh, none can know my woe, you see,
For 'round me lurks a beast.
No blessed rest can I receive,
Lest it pounce during my sleep.
I question not why, curiously,
It groans when I smell chowder.
And when I flee, most famished then,
The growling gets 'more louder'!

Oh, roundabout! Oh, 'round I go!
Bid farewell to my mother!
And if my love refuses me,
I'll go 'round to the other!

Something akin to a wellspring broke open within her chest as she watched the adoring eyes upon her, and ponies beginning to dance. Never before had anypony looked at her this way. All she could ever remember from before were gazes of scorn and disgust at her dirtied face, unkempt mane, and ragged clothing. In an instant it had all changed. Perhaps the key had been her voice all along. As her confidence grew, strangely her birthmark began to itch, and almost like magic, the song seemed to take on a life of its own, rippling through the air. One could almost hear harmonies and the pull of fiddle strings. More words now seemed to sprout within her. It was as if her mind could barely keep up as they flew from her lips. Quickly, she climbed atop a stack of wooden boxes with the help of two larger ponies, and then turned to face the crowd.

The dumplings in my daydreams
Are the best I've ever had.
Delusions of double whipped creams,
I must be going mad!
Oh friendly folk I tell you that,
This hungry life's not easy.
But join me on the roundabout,
And you'll find it quite breezy!

She repeated the choruses as if the song might never end. However, as the refrains came to their conclusions, so did her wellspring of words. Slowly, the thoughts dried up as if to make her understand that this was where some unseen force had deigned that the song should end. She had no choice but to let it happen. As she stopped singing, little Sonata could only wonder for a moment what exactly the meaning of her words were before the crowd broke out into an uproarious applause. This made her gasp, snapping her out of her melodious reverie. Almost as if the crowd were following suit, a strange air of realization seemed to dawn upon them. Slowly, their smiles faded into dull looks of normalcy, and those precious visages of adoration began to slip away. Then the gathering began to dissipate. Not understanding what had just happened, Sonata frowned, and slowly backed away from the roadside, deeply confused. Hitting the wall as her legs gave out, she fell to the ground, again, very close to fainting. Hunger pangs racked her even harder now as she could only ponder to herself about what had just happened. Her eyes shut. Assuming that, once again, the world had made her disappear, she never expected to feel a small tap upon her head. Raising her eyes upward, she caught the gaze of the young colt who had been dancing before her earlier. Between his teeth, he held a rather large chunk of bread and a carrot.

Letting the provisions fall before her, he smiled. "Your song was lovely!" he said, waiting for a reply.

Sonata, without song, had once again gone mute, and found that no words wanted to escape her. She gave him a grateful smile through her overgrown fringe. Nodding her head, she then took a frantic bite out of the bread.

The other child blinked at her, slightly confused. "Can't you speak, anymore?" he asked.

In the distance, somepony called loudly above the din of the morning masses. "Peewee! Peewee!" called the female voice, until, through the rush, a gray mare approached them. "Prance! There you are! Why did you run off like that?"

She only seemed to notice Sonata in the shadow after she had raced up, and checked the colt for injuries. When she did notice the little vagabond, a slight look of both repulsion befell her. "Come along, Dear. I have told you many times not to speak to these things," she muttered to Prance as if Sonata couldn't hear her. The mare then shooed the little colt further on down the road. In an instant it was as if all memory of Sonata had been wiped from the elder pony's mind.

"But Mother, she sang a pretty song," Sonata could hear Prance say as they went.

When he said this, the mare leaned over to nuzzle her child lovingly. "I will sing you three when we arrive at home," she said.

Sonata could only stare at them as she took hasty mouthful after mouthful of the food that sat before her, drinking in that familiar look of love that the mother had given her son. It was a look that, a few moments ago, was directed toward her by the cheering crowd. Suddenly, a small flame was kindled within her, a flame that could only be fed with the same adoration she had seen in the crowd, and the tender care she had seen between Prance and his mother. Slowly, as she ate, and tears began to fall from her eyes, a plan began to formulate in her young mind.

It was then that her nightly routine began. Instead of sleeping in the evening behind the bakery, Sonata would sleep during the daytime. Then, in the evenings, while everypony was at home having supper, she would roam about the town knocking on doors and singing for scraps. Not yet understanding how to use currency, she would always refuse coins when the inevitably enamored town residents would try to offer them to her. Still, she soon found that this door-to-door method was a reliable way to keep herself well fed.

One evening, fortune had decided to smile upon her as she wandered farther out into the countryside looking for new audiences. This was how she happened to knock upon the door of Master Fylleion and his wife. However, on that night, as the couple stood in awe before the small filly and her wondrous voice, Sonata had seen them pass a rather undecipherable glance between one another. Then, to her surprise, instead of just giving her a few scraps of bread, they had offered her a home, provided that she would be willing to earn her keep, of course. After a time, they had somehow even coaxed her into speaking to them. Things were rough at first, but she quickly caught on to her duties in no time. Cleaning and cooking breakfast would come first in the mornings, then usually it would be time for one of her parents to escort her through town as she sang for coins while the other stayed at home to handle the farm's business. When the sun began to set, they would head home where Sonata would then go to fetch water, and return to fix supper, after which she promptly went to bed. By that time she was usually exhausted. The only instances during which things seemed a bit harder were during their harvest in the early summer, but that only lasted about a month or so before the routine became the usual once again.

All that had been over a year ago. Now, in the drafty, little, stone kitchen and pantry room, which also doubled as her bedroom, Sonata moved as if dancing from memory. She lit the kitchen fire, then ran to the pantry to grab as much cabbage, clover, carrots, and apples as she could carry. Hurrying back to the kitchen, she grabbed the large stew pot from where it sat in the corner, almost tumbling backward as the sheer size of it overshadowed her small frame. After setting it down, she poured in the well water, and somehow, with her hind hoof, managed to set it on a hook over the growing fire whilst, with her front hoof, she grabbed a few herbs and seasonings off of a nearby shelf—Fylleion had built it short, especially for her. Tonight she would try a cabbage and carrot stew and an apple cake as a surprise. Perhaps her parents wouldn't mind the absence of the usual greens in their broth when they laid eyes upon the delicious dessert.

Thirty more minutes had passed before she had finished, and by the time her mother bellowed for her again, she had already filled the bowls, and plated the lovely-looking cake. "Coming! I'm coming!" she called before dashing out of the kitchen, balancing plates on her nose and head, and leaving a few floured hoof prints in her wake.

Fylleion and his wife were already seated at the simple, yet well laid table beside their fireplace. Both of them stared crossly at her, choosing to remain stoic and silent as she plopped their bowls down before them. Eyes all agleam, she then presented the cake, sliding it toward the center of the table. She eyed them both in silence, waiting anxiously for their reaction as they gazed down to inspect their meals.

"There is no dandelion in this stew," the Mistress huffed in a matter-of-fact manner.

"Indeed," Fylleion agreed dully, even as he leaned over to begin gulping the stew down.

An utterly dejected look befell the filly as she watched her mother regard her husband.

Thistle then turned to the small filly, and sighed. "Very well. You may go have your supper," she said.

"Y...yes, Mother," Sonata replied glumly as she turned tail, and walked back toward the kitchen.

"Oh, and Sonata?" the mare called once again.

Almost too eagerly, Sonata spun around, hope glimmering in her eyes. "Yes, Mother?" she asked.

"Do try and get an early sleep this evening. We will be leaving for town a bit earlier than usual tomorrow," stated the mare.

"Oh," Sonata replied, now doubly deflated. "Yes, Mother."

As Sonata turned to walk away again, she could only attempt to figure how she might possibly get an earlier night's sleep when she still had to clean up the kitchen. Regardless, she resigned herself to the task at hand. When she re-entered the kitchen, there were chopped pieces of herbs, fruits, and vegetables everywhere, not to mention a healthy coating of flour all about. Huffing to herself, she slowly reached up toward her shawl, pulled it from around her neck, and upward onto her head. There she tightened it so that it pulled her long blue mane back away from her face. Moving over to where the remains of the bucket water sat, Sonata poured what remained into a different bucket used for cleaning, fetched the scrubber, and promptly got to work, deciding to forgo her supper until later.

By the time she had finished, it was far too late an hour, and the rest of the household had long ago gone to sleep, bellies filled with stew and cake. Utterly exhausted, Sonata pulled her shawl from around her head with one hoof, and with her teeth, scooped up the small wooden bowl filled with her now cold stew. Dragging herself through the small doorway to her little pantry, Sonata immediately plopped down on top of the meager set of blankets given her for a bed. She set the bowl of stew down gently, and then fell backward onto her dirty, almost too flat pillow. Heaving a sigh of relief, she waited a moment before reaching inside of the pillow through one of its many tears, and pulling out what seemed to be a rather hideously constructed, stuffed pony doll. Even at such a young age, Sonata had sewn this herself, and despite the ugliness of the dirty little thing, she regarded it with only pure affection. "And how are you this evening, Socks?" she asked it, giving it a hug.

Shimmying down beneath her thin blankets, she pulled her bowl of stew toward her, planning on heading to sleep right after she gulped it down. "Late one for me, tonight," she continued on, her head almost instinctively tilting down to rest upon the pillow. Her weary eyes began to droop. "But no worries. I will tell you all about it right after I... finish... my..."

It took less than a minute for the filly's eyes to shut completely, and just like that, she was asleep, her supper left untouched.

The cockerel's crow came far too soon the next morning, and no sooner had it, did Sonata receive a rude awakening. She felt a firm nudge in her back, and her thin blankets were then immediately snatched away from her face. Her eyes popped open, teary from weariness. She sat up in an instant, and stared toward the blurry figure in the doorway now coming into focus, her mother.

"Sonata, I expressly told you to get up earlier, didn't I?" Thistle chided her, keeping her voice low so as not to wake Fylleion who could still be heard snoring, even from this distance.

"I know, Mother, but I—"

"No excuses," the mare interrupted. "Go down to the well and clean up. Your robe and hat will be waiting by the door when you return."

"Yes, Mother," Sonata replied obediently, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She was too tired to attempt to defend herself.

When she had finally willed her legs to stand and move without wobbling, she groggily collected the water bucket, and made her way out into the field. The air was cool and refreshing, and dew hung from the blades of grass that stretched on till the horizon. Her beloved birds had awakened by now, and though the water was chilly as Sonata dumped it over her head, and began to scrub at her fur, she didn't even seem to notice. Despite its cold, it somehow seemed that the water could always give her enough warmth and energy to sing along with her flying friends.

Oh, songbird, how do you sing,
When there's long flight in the winter,
Bitter work in the spring?
In the summer your children leave you,
On freshly feathered wing.
Yet, still you sing.
Still you sing.

Her strong, rich voice echoed throughout the fields, and even the birds, after a while, seemed to stop and listen. Realizing she had overpowered her friends, Sonata giggled to herself, and blurted a small apology to them. The last thing she had expected was to receive a reply.

"It's alright!" came a strangely familiar voice somewhere far to her right. When her head whipped about to take a look, standing there on the small dirt path that cut between Fylleion's farmland and the open fields was a recognizable young colt, about her age, white of fur with brown hair. Prance smiled brightly at her, and made a quick dash into the fields to meet her at the well.

As he approached, Sonata felt something tightening in her throat, silencing her voice. The same shyness that seemed to plague her before she met Fylleion and his wife crept upon her once again, and in that instant she realized that it had been a long time, over one full year, since she had met anypony of her own volition without her mother or father being present. In that time she had never been required to speak to anypony on her own, only sing when she was told to. The few times when her speech was necessary, it was always in her parents' presence, and usually only consisted of a few words.

"Hello! You are the filly from the town marketplace a while ago! Why are you so far out into the country?" Prance inquired as he reached the well.

Sonata backed away from him, looking very much as if she would like to hide.

"My family comes here during the summers to vacation. I didn't think there were any other children nearby." An uneasy expression spread across Prance's face as he realized how uncomfortable he was making her. "M-my name is Prance Lighthoof. My father was once a guard for Lord Goldenstalks. Now they are very good friends. He is whom we're vacationing with. Do you know Lord Goldenstalks?" He seemed to become self-conscious as he looked Sonata over, and realized from the sights of her bucket and ragged shawl that she might not be able to relate to his tale. "P-perhaps we could be friends... If you wish," he posed unsurely. A long silence ensued between them as he awaited her reply.

At this point, it was clear that Sonata was neither happy nor comfortable with the idea. In fact, her eyes darted about, and her breath began to quicken as if she were waiting for somepony to catch her in the act of doing something wrong.

Prance's eyes fell to the ground so as to save her any embarrassment. "I very much enjoy your singing. Why is it that you do not speak to—"

"No!" Sonata finally managed to scream in a panic, making Prance jolt backward in surprise. He looked up again just in time to see her snatch up her bucket, and bolt off toward her home.

"Wait! I still don't know your name!" he called to her. After taking a few steps in her direction, he realized that perhaps it would be best not to follow, and sadly turned back around. It was then that he noticed a shabby piece of embroidered brown cloth flapping in the wind against the side of the well. It was Sonata's shawl. She had forgotten it in her haste to get away. Prance quickly dashed over to scoop it up between his teeth, and began the trek back down the road past the farmlands.

___

Try as she might, Sonata just could not keep still as she sat next to her mother upon a large wooden box in the marketplace at Greenwaters. The square was just beginning to liven up, and while this usually tended to lift her spirits a bit, today she could not help but feel anything besides guilt. She couldn't quite decide on why, but somehow she knew that she had done something wrong. Staring up at the cloudless sky, the blue pony reached up to the wide brim of her straw sunhat, and pulled it down upon her head, as if trying to make the entire thing disappear within it. For what might have been the millionth time,

Thistle reached out, and swatted her little hooves away. "Stop it! You'll surely ruin the thing, and I am not making you another until next year. Besides, you're making me quite nervous. Why are you acting so strangely, child?" she inquired.

Knowing her eyes could not tell lies, Sonata looked away from her mother, and toward the ground. "Nothing, Mother. I... I suppose this robe is just a little hot," she lied.

"Oh, nonsense. I wear the same material as you, and I feel fine. Besides, every young filly needs a good robe for special occasions," the yellow mare retorted, looking back down into a basket that sat before her, filled with pretty dandelions.

Sonata's looked confused. "But Mother, we do this everyday," she mentioned cautiously.

"Oh, Sonata, do stop whining and second guessing everything that I say," Thistle said with a pained wince of annoyance. "The sun is high, and there are enough patrons now. Time to get started."

With nothing more than a tight-lipped and obedient nod of her head, Sonata immediately got to her hooves, glanced around cautiously just once, and then closed her eyes. There she stood in silence for about a minute, listening to the sounds around her, smelling the fragrant odors of the marketplace, feeling the warmth of the sun upon her skin. Slowly, a shapeless, melodic tittering began to reverberate in her skull. Gradually, it took on a solid form, and when her birthmark began to itch, she knew she had it.

Come down to Sweetrush River,
We shall make good company...

She began in a long, hauntingly beautiful refrain that caught the attention of everypony within earshot. When she saw the eyes upon her, glee seemed to fill her up, as it always did, and even the dominating presence of her mother seemed to dissipate from her mind. As she continued on through the song, the melody then took on a more elated feeling and pace.

Finally, as the song ended, Sonata held the last refrain as she glanced around at the enamored crowd, already clapping and dancing where they stood. Some of the faces were familiar to her. They stared back at her adoringly, having learned to expect the child's lovely singing everyday at the same time. Her mother seemed elated when she glanced toward her, handing out sweet dandelions, one after the other, as a show of gratitude for the mounds of gold bits that were now dropping into her woven basket. It was during these times that the mare always seemed to be at her happiest. Sonata's little heart skipped a beat, and jumped for joy at the contentment that seemed to surround her. Almost disappointed, she let her refrain end, and finished the song where she had started it.

At once, the crowd roared with delight. By and by, she took off her straw hat, and bowed low to them all, making sure to keep the feeling of joy within her heart so as not to cause an incident like the first time she sang for a crowd, that of dissipating love and swiftly being forgotten.

If she were to be quite honest with herself, Sonata knew she could have held the refrain for so much longer than any other pony could. However, having done it once before, it had proven to be detrimental when after a good two minutes of holding a note, whispers of sorcery began to surface amongst the crowd, and their happiness fell away. Even her mother seemed quite fearful at the time, and forbade her from ever doing such a thing, again. Just to show that she was quite serious, she had sent Sonata to bed without supper that evening.

It had all been a learning process, trying to figure out which of her abilities were to be hidden and which were to be utilized just enough to seem exceptional for those who were normal... well, more normal. Eventually she had gotten the hang of it. For yet another day, she could glance at her mother and smile, and be sure that in this one moment she would receive a pleased beam of pride in return from where the mare sat next to a basket that glittered gold.

Later on, at the first sign of a setting sun, they began the long, arduous walk back home. Humming gayly to herself, and stopping every now and then to gulp up a mouthful of strawberries from the basketful her mother had bought her before their trek, Sonata couldn't help but feel especially favored by the world. Thistle, who walked in silence beside her, seemed to be ignoring the filly, making a poor attempt out of counting her gold bits instead of giving the young one any attention, whatsoever. Seeing this, the small pony, for just a moment, felt a twinge of selfishness rush through her. Why should a basket of shiny metal captivate her mother in lieu of her own daughter?

"What is it for?" she asked meekly, gulping down another mouthful of strawberries.

This question astonished Thistle into attention. Her head spun around, and she stared, wide-eyed, at the small, blue, filly. "What did you say?" the mare asked in disbelief.

"The coins. What do you use them for?" Sonata asked again, making sure only sweetness escaped along with her words.

Things were silent between the two of them for a moment until the child witnessed her mother's visage cloud over ominously. The mare stopped walking, silently bidding Sonata to do the same. As she stared at her, the filly seemed to shrink into herself. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen Fylleion's wife so angry.

Slowly, the mare began to speak. Every word seemed to drip warnings of punishments to come. "And who are you to inquire about such things?" Thistle hissed. "Is it that you are not satisfied with our humble home, any longer? Must you have an estate now?"

"N-no, Mother! I didn't mean to—" Sonata stammered only to be silenced by a stomp of the mare's hoof.

"Your father and I use this money to care for you and our home!" the mare said with finality.

It seemed that the world had cruelly tricked her into believing she should be happy, that she could feel free. Now, she could only contemplate on how wrong she had been as she cowered before the yellow mare. "Mother, please. I'm sorry. I shall not ask after it, again," she whimpered, near to whispering.

Thistle glanced down at the little, quivering lump, and slowly, the expression on her face lightened. Sighing heavily, she reached out, and placed Sonata upright, back onto all four legs, dusting her off. "Why must you be so questioning, child? And getting dust onto your robes. What ever shall I do with you? Come. Let us make haste before all of the strawberries are gone. I'm sure your father would enjoy a pie this evening."

A small smile escaped Thistle, and Sonata, supposing this was affection, smiled brightly in return. She exhaled loudly as they continued on down the road.

By the time they neared Fylleion's farm, the sun had sunk to the horizon, and the sky was filled with Sonata's beloved wisps of purple and pink. Thus, her spirits were lifted once more. Humming to herself again, she skipped alongside her mother up the dirt path, and through the gates, not paying attention to her surroundings. She heard her father open the front door and speak.

"Welcome home, Dear," he said to his wife who, for some reason, didn't answer.

"Hello, Fath—" Sonata began, but was quickly stunned into a crushing, horrified, silence as she opened her eyes, and caught sight of what lay before her. She had an inkling all day that something wasn't right, something was amiss, and had not been able to remember what. Now, the truth sat plainly before them all; in the doorway, standing by Fylleion's side, stood a young colt, about her age, smiling happily.

From his mouth dangled her shawl, forgotten at the well earlier that day. He spat it out at once and waved to her. "Hello, Sonata! Good to see you, again!" Prance exclaimed merrily.

In her desperation, the only thought that could come to her mind was to deny knowing him, which she attempted to do quite poorly. Her eyes darted guiltily between her mother and father as she stammered. "H-how did you... get that? G-give it here! I don't know you!" she lied, snatching the shawl, now on the brink of tears.

Prance, who had never heard her speak so many words until that very moment, recoiled in shock.

Thinking that perhaps Sonata's desperate outburst might reveal how strictly she was dealt with at home, Fylleion stepped forward, and laughed loudly, blocking out the sound of the filly's whimpers. "Oh, my silly little daughter, why the tears? Of course you know this young lad. We all do! Haven't you ever heard of the Lighthoofs, the valiant family guards of the Goldenstalks? How honored we are, indeed, to be host to Sir Lighthoof's strapping son in our very own home!"

Sonata was stunned, to say the least. Utterly confused, she could do nothing but sit in silence.

Noticing this, Fylleion spoke up, once more, plastering an almost too saccharine grin upon his face. Yet, his eyes began to reveal his growing impatience. "Sonata, dear, Prance has come all this way to play with you. Have you nothing to say to him?"

Taking the hint, Sonata's head began to nod in agreement before her brain had even thought up what to say.

After a while of this, Thistle gave her a quick bump in her rear. "Speak up, dear," she laughed nervously.

"Thank you, Prance. Th-that would please me very much, indeed," Sonata finally stammered politely in her small voice, then waiting again for her parents to instruct her on what to do.

Thistle was the first to speak this time. "Why don't you take your new friend, and show him down to the meadow, hm?" she suggested, patting the small filly's head.

Sonata nodded frantically. Without hesitation, she got to her hooves, walked past her father, and into the house, toward the back door. Her eyes never met any of the others' as she went. "This way, Prance," she instructed the colt as she went.

He snatched up her twice forgotten shawl, passed a respectful smile to the master and mistress of the house, and turned to follow.

___

Sonata sat silently under the shade of the large oak a little bit away from the well. She watched Prance, well... prance about nearby, kicking rocks here and there, or chasing squirrels. Every now and then, he would bid her to come play with him, then quickly losing focus once a new squirrel popped its head up above the level line of grasses and wild flowers. However, it was all Sonata could manage to simply sit and stare at him, grimly pondering to herself.

After a while, even the colt caught the hint, and quieted down. He edged closer to her until he was but a few steps away from where she sat. He stared at her curiously. "Is something the matter?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.

This made her brow furrow. "Is something the matter?" she mocker him. "Of course, something's the matter. Do you know how much trouble it is that you are here? Do you know how cross my family will be with me?"

"Trouble?" Prance muttered, shying away ever so slightly. "But your family was so kind. I thought that—"

"No, they—" Sonata interrupted, only to cut her own words short. To go on would mean that she would have to admit out loud to the world, and worse yet, to herself, that her parents were actually being extraordinary fakers. It was something that she not only didn't want to believe, but couldn't believe, for the sake of her own sanity and sense of belonging. The Fylleions were good, hardworking ponies. There could be no doubt about it. Taking a deep breath, she tried again. "They must be kind to you. You're a noble," she said matter-of-factly, turning her head away, and flipping the overgrown fringe out of her eyes.

Her words made Prance take pause. He sighed, now slightly irritated himself, and moved to go sit next to her. As he did so, she scooted away slightly, still not taking even a moment's glance at him. "Well, that doesn't mean that we can't be friends, does it?" he asked gently, passing her a smile that she did not see.

"Yes, it does," she stated outright. "We aren't the same, obviously. Aren't there any other foals out here for you to play with that are nobles like you?"

Prance grimaced and scoffed to himself, a harsh sound that actually made Sonata finally turn to face him. "Of course, there is Lord Goldenstalk's son, Upright," he muttered, passing her a sarcastic smile.

Sonata snorted. "His name is Upright?" she chuckled. He nodded in return, laughing along.

"Yes, quite the adventurer he is, never wanting to leave his mansions or the inside of his carriages unless they're going to a mansion. He hates the country. As soon as we arrive he always begins begging to return to town," Prance sighed, shaking his head.

Sonata stared at him and blinked. "Well," she murmured. "He sounds rather... spoiled."

"Well, he is the son of an Earl, after all," Prance continued. "Courts and schooling since he was born. He is be—...betrothed, as well."

"Be—... betrothed?" Sonata asked curiously, following Prance's example in having trouble pronouncing the unknown word.

"Yes, to some rich daughter of a Baron, somewhere. That means they are to be married when they grow up. I haven't seen her as yet, but the Earl says she's pretty, and that she likes to sing just like you!"

"Oh. It must be so sad to not be able to choose," the blue filly breathed as she turned away to stare at the ground. It took her a moment to force out her next inquiry. "And, are you betrothed to somepony as well?"

Prance burst out laughing at this notion. "Of course not. I shall never be married. Fillies are dreadful," he said making a sour face.

"Hey!" Sonata protested, reaching out with a hoof in order to nudge him harshly. Afterward, she too began to laugh.

"Even still," he continued when their giggling had quieted down. "I suppose you are not that bad." He seemed pleased when the blue filly smiled contently to herself. "Now that you are talking, of course. I could tell by the way you sang and danced all that time ago when I first saw you in Greenwaters. I knew we would make good friends."

Things remained oddly silent. An unspoken thought seemed to pass silently between the two foals. Naturally, the colt was the first to bring it up. "Was it true? The song, I mean," he asked gently, not having the heart to look at her. He didn't expect Sonata to actually answer.

"It was. That was before I met my parents. But, I can have all the pies I can eat, now!" she lied while displaying a blatantly forced laugh.

Perhaps, in order to save face, Prance decided to play along. "Oh yes, and mountains of colorful cakes and dumplings," he joked.

"You're making me hungry," Sonata giggled. Just at that moment, her stomach growled loudly. They both laughed, again.

"I never thought you would sound the way you do, though," Prance continued casually.

"What do you mean?" Sonata asked him, confused.

"You sing differently than you speak. It's almost as if you're..." he paused briefly, trying to figure a less abrasive way to say what it was he wanted to say. He could decide on none. "...less afraid when you sing. When you sing, you sing strong. When you speak, you're like a little mouse." He sighed, wanting immediately to take everything he had just said back. Nervously, he tapped his hooves together, hoping the blue filly next to him wouldn't lash out in anger.

"I never noticed that," Sonata said calmly after a time. "I... I guess I just am not sure if what I say will be the right thing. After all, somepony can say anything they want about whatever odd things are in their head, whenever they wish to. So many choices of words. It's difficult to decide. But, with a song, it seems everything is already right there in its place. It's as if I only have to read it out of my mind."

The strangeness of the filly's words caught Prance by surprise, and he snorted, beginning to shake with nervous laughter. Sonata stared at him for a moment, wide eyed, before she too began to giggle.

"Well, even if you didn't talk, you're still way better company than Upright. Upright would never have a race with me to the well or anything of that sort," the white colt stated suggestively, then obliging himself to sit in a smug silence. It was but a moment later that Sonata had burst forth, laughing joyously to herself as she took a head start toward the little stone well. Prance bounded to his hooves only a moment after to give chase.

___

The sun had disappeared behind the horizon, and the sky was now all lavender. Sonata knew that she was probably due at home by now, and decided to bid Prance farewell. It still confused her how the son of a noble could be so carefree as to associate with commoners such as herself, but she had to admit that she did not mind the new company for the time being. She also found the fact that her parents could barely bring themselves to refuse a noble of almost anything strangely satisfying as well.

As she trotted up toward the back door which attached itself to the kitchen, a strange feeling began to grow in the pit of her stomach. It took a moment for Sonata to recognize it as slight dread. Perhaps her parents would be cross with her after all. Perhaps she had misconstrued the meaning of their words. Perhaps they had secretly wanted her to get rid of Sir Lighthoof's son on her own.

As she went into the kitchen, she felt a tightening in her chest and throat. When she spoke, it barely came out as a squeak. "Hello? Mother? Father? I'm home," she said, gently closing the kitchen door behind her. She was surprised to find the kitchen fire long since smoldering with a pot full of a delicious-smelling stew hanging above it. Edging closer, she stood on her hind legs to peer into the pot. Her mouth began to water when she discovered traces of seasoned mushrooms and tomatoes floating inside.

Coming back down onto all fours, she then took that moment to look about the kitchen, and was then flabbergasted to have missed the sight of two fresh pies sitting, warm and untouched, upon the counter. Rushing over quickly to smell each one, she was delighted to discover that they consisted of apples and strawberries.

The rich and heavenly aroma nearly bowled her over as she dropped onto all her legs, once more, accidentally upsetting a few pans that sat atop the counter.

Following the loud sound came a call from the front room. "Sonata, dear, is that you?" Thistle called to her. "Please come here. Your father and I would like to have a word with you."

Still not quite sure about the nature of the supposed "words" that awaited her, Sonata planned for a showy recompense by collecting together two fine saucers, a teapot, and teacups from the pantry. Placing some heated water and wildflower petals within the pot, she then carried it from her mouth whilst balancing the rest of the dishes as well as the two pies upon her nose and head. "Cmmmng Mvvvrrr!" she called, hurrying out toward the front.

Walking quickly, though cautiously, into the next room, Sonata dared not glance at the faces of her mother and father who were seated in their usual place by the fire until she had laid out the pies and tea for each of them. She then took a step back, and finally managed to look them both in the eyes. It stunned her to see two pleased smiles staring back at her. "I brought you some tea for your pies," she murmured, still not believing that something was, in fact, not amiss.

"Oh, Sonata, silly child," Thistle laughed at her. "These pies are for you. Tonight, you may have all of the pie and stew you desire, and go to bed early. I will clean the kitchen this evening."

Sonata fell backward onto her rear on account of her hind legs giving out. Her jaw dropped as her eyes darted between her parents in confusion. "I... I don't understand," she croaked. For a moment, she feared that all this was some type of cruel trick, but why would her parents do such a thing to her?

"Well, of course you must go to sleep early," Thistle continued as if it were obvious. "You have a long day ahead of you, what with singing at the Earl's summer estate tomorrow evening!"

"Is it not an honor, Mother?" Fylleion asked his wife. They both then turned to stare at Sonata with those frighteningly wide grins, nodding their heads as if agreeing on her behalf.

Sonata's stomach almost seemed to drop straight out of her body, and her chest felt as if it might cave in. "What?" she peeped, unable to say anything else.

"Yes, child. It was your friend, Sir Lighthoof's son who proposed the idea," Fylleion continued. "He said he remembered you from long before you blessed our little home with your arrival, and I told him that you sing often in town, a loving act of support for your family. It was the colt who then supposed that Lord Goldenstalks himself might have an ear for that lovely voice of yours. Why, he ran straight home and back to confirm the good news."

Sonata's expression grew more and more sickly as Fylleion went on. She had never felt so betrayed in her entire, young life.

"Why, dear, you seem surprised at all of this wonderful news," Thistle murmured, leaning forward. "We thought that perhaps the young esquire would have told you."

"Esquire," Sonata breathed to herself realizing that her mother was talking about the colt she had just been playing with in the fields.

"Yes. After all, the Baronet is a good friend of Lord Goldenstalks," Fylleion continued. Sonata gulped.

"B...b..." she couldn't even bring herself to say it. Prance had, indeed, been keeping things from her, even though he knew the differences in their status made her uncomfortable. The old memory of the colt's mother calling her a "thing" suddenly flashed before her eyes. If she hadn't felt so nauseated at the thought of appearing in front of those who might hold nothing but scorn for her, she would have screamed in a tremendous rage, something she had never done before. Instead, she nodded her head almost mechanically, and turned to leave, a blank expression upon her face. "Yes, Mother," she said, barely above a whisper as she began to walk away.

"Sonata, will you not eat something?" Thistle asked her, a type of worry in her voice that Sonata had never heard before.

"Yes, I..." Sonata trailed off as she disappeared through the kitchen door. In the kitchen, she collected her small bowl and spoon, and purely by muscle memory, poured herself some dinner, carrying it straight away to bed. She was sure that if she had any pie, she would end up sick the next morning. It would be difficult enough to attempt to get any sleep tonight with all of the events of the following day looming over her. She need not worry about belly aches as well.

She ate quietly, and then quickly fell into a deep, fitful slumber, filled with dreams of judgmental eyes, all trained upon her.

Author's Note

Here are the instrumentals to Sonata's songs from this chapter:

'Roundabout (Sonata's Theme)'

and 'Songbird'

Be forewarned. There's some weird artifact-y noise at the beginning and end of 'Songbird' and I didn't care to figure it out, so... yea. Of course, maybe you won't even notice it until you read this, in which case, sorry.

Cracks

That evening, by the end of her shift, Sonata's mood had been lifted significantly. With her pockets full of the extra tips she had received from all of the patrons stolen off of Patti's table roster, she was not only sure that her plan was off to a great start, but that she would also have the spare cash she needed to celebrate at the movies the following day. Luckily, she had obtained enough to spend time out without eating into her household's grocery funds.

The back rooms at Sammy's diner were eerily quiet as she collected her things, and headed back through the front to leave. What was also unusual was that, for the time being, the main floor of the restaurant was also devoid of the three waitresses who usually stayed a few minutes later, namely Patti and her cohorts. Shrugging this off as mere happenstance, Sonata walked quickly out into the cool evening air, humming a happy tune to herself. She had only taken a few steps into the parking lot before she heard the bell of the restaurant's front door jingle, and glanced back to see Peachy running up to meet her.

"Sonny! Hey!" she called while waving.

Sonata smiled, and waved back, waiting for her to catch up. When they stood before one another, the former siren waited for the green-eyed girl to adjust her sweater before they both continued on down the road.

"Oh. My. Gosh, Sonata. What you pulled today with Patti's tables? Absolutely brilliant!" Peachy exclaimed, waving her hands about for emphasis. "You've finally taught her a lesson. I'm sure of it. I think it's safe to say that she, Pumpkin, and Candy won't be messing with you again anytime soon."

Sonata smiled almost pityingly at Peach's lack of foresight. Stealing all of Patti's customers for the night was nothing, hardly something to inspire submission, that is, if submission had been what she was really after. In fact, the way Sonata figured it, first would come retaliation after which, of course, she would just have to follow up with increasing the pressure on Patti. That would most likely provoke desperation in the girl, perhaps the incentive to bargain for a truce, and when Sonata inevitably denied her this small comfort, then would come Patti's submission. At that point, and not a moment sooner, would Sonata extend to her the olive branch of peace. By that time, Patti would surely be so desperate for reconciliation that she would see this action as charitable, caring, sisterly, even. It wasn't, of course. Truth be told, she didn't really care all that much for Patti and her acquaintances, at all. The girl and her friends were crude, mean, the type of people that Sonata would much rather use to feed her energy cravings than befriend. Regardless, the former siren was sure that at that point, the brunette would feel an indescribable motivation to return her false love with the good stuff, the genuine stuff, in kind. "Oh, idunno about all that, Peach. It was just a couple of tables," she lied, smiling to herself.

"Now that's modesty," Peachy retorted. "It was definitely like all of her tables. Did you see her face? I thought she was gonna vomit by her second break, for sure."

Sonata smiled genuinely this time as she and Peachy rounded the corner onto a dimmer, less populated street. "Yea, I noticed that," the former siren replied, trying to hide the pride in her voice.

Their homebound walk was enjoyable, and not at all out of the ordinary for the first couple of minutes. However, as the two of them strolled past the entrance to a rather shadowy alleyway, two pairs of arms reached out to grab them both. Peach, not expecting this at all, began to scream, only to have the sound muffled with a hand clasped tightly against her mouth.

Sonata, on the other hand, didn't make a peep when the hands yanked her into the alleyway by her hood, nor when she was slammed up against one of its cold brick walls, Peach pinned beside her. She was hardly surprised to see Pumpkin and Candy standing in front of them both. In fact, one could say she had expected something like this to happen. "Patti," she murmured under her breath as the brunette stood at the backs of her cohorts, staring flaming daggers into Sonata's eyes.

At the sound of the other girl's name, Peach finally stopped struggling against Candy's grip, and opened her eyes.

"This really isn't like me, Sonny. Really it's not," Patti began calmly as she inspected her nails, "but it seems you've forced my hand. The money. Give it to me. All of it."

The stern glare that Sonata passed Patti spoke could, at a glance, be mistaken for one of self doubt and caution, but after the brunette's request, the former siren instantly gave her an amused grin. When she began to giggle, Patti, her friends, and even Peach were, at once, quite baffled. Noticing their confusion, Sonata quieted down, and cleared her throat. "Or else what, Patti? Are ya gonna hit me or something?" she asked with her too bright, too happy smile spreading even wider by the second.

Patti cocked an eyebrow, and took a step forward. "Yea. That would be the general idea," she said matter-of-factly at which time Sonata practically burst out laughing whilst trying to muffle the sound with her hands. This obviously proved successful in raising the brunette's hackles, and she pushed past Pumpkin in order to get to the girl. Reaching out with one arm, she grabbed the end of the former siren's ponytail, and yanked it hard, wrenching her neck to the side in what was clearly an excruciating position. Sonata's slightly knocked knees very nearly caved in on themselves at this sensation of pain, only to be reinforced by Patti's leg coming up against her thigh to pin her securely against the wall. Grabbing the blue girl's collar, Patti then brought her face very close. "Listen, you little bitch. The grown ups have got places to go and bills to pay. So, I want all of the money, and I want it now, or else the only tips you're gonna be getting from now on are tips on how to conceal a black eye and a busted schnoz. You understand me?"

Despite the stinging pain running across her scalp, Sonata's expression went rather grim, save for the amused glimmer that still remained in her eyes. Though caught in quite the precarious predicament, she didn't seem fazed by any of Patti's threats. "Go on, then. Hit me," she stated quite seriously.

"Sonny!" Peach managed to interject before she was silenced once again by Candy's hand.

"What, you think I won't?" Patti laughed.

"No, I totally want you to!" Sonata replied, a sincere expression upon her face. "Hit me, Patti. Get it out of your system, but you know Mr. Salami isn't gonna like this."

A pregnant silence befell them all.

"Who do you think the Salamis are most likely to side with if I were to tell them about this, huh? Their favorite waitress ever... or you?" Sonata said with a giggle. "Silly Patti, I've got your money, I've got the popularity, and I've got the hearts of the Salamis. But you... You've only got your big, scary threats, your super spooky dark alleyways, and your job." She snickered again. The sound of her laugh echoed through the alley in the eeriest way. "Gosh, when you think about it, that's really not much of anything at all, is it, Patti? How much do you think you'll have left after I go telling the Salamis about this, with a bloody nose to boot? You think they'd care that their customers would rather tip their best waitress instead of some big, ol', violent meanie? Gee, they might even dock your pay, but then again, I bet if I cried enough, they'd probably just fire you. All of you."

The gleam of Sonata's smile, as cute as it was in any other setting, in the now darkened alleyway worked instead to send a chill down the backs of everyone present. The expression on the faces of Patti and her cohorts revealed their quickly failing courage. Sonata's eyes darted over to stare at Pumpkin who now stood with her arms folded apprehensively across her chest. Her mouth worked vigorously on her gum, popping it again and again.

"I hope you guys are good at retail, cause you know how big Mr. Salami's mouth is. You'd probably never be able to get a restaurant job in this town ever again. He's been here for like, a gazillion years, though. So, I still wouldn't count on those other jobs either," the Siren stated outright. Her gaze shifted back toward Patti whose nerve, by this point, had clearly failed her. By and by, she let Sonata's hair go, and removed her knee from across her thighs. Candy had long since released Peachy, choosing instead to stand next to Pumpkin who was looking very much like she would like to leave.

"See, Patti? Doesn't it feel good to be just a little bit nicer?" Sonata asked. No one could decide whether she was being facetious.

Patti seemed to be thinking deeply to herself, rolling possibility after possibility over in her mind, but nothing of worth happened to come to her. When she finally lifted a finger to say something, the look on her face was nearly desperate.

This made Sonata's brow furrow. 'Oh, Patti. Gonna beg for a truce already? How boring,' the former siren thought. She then reconciled herself to salvaging the brunette's pride for the time being with a timely interruption. "I'm gonna keep this money, if you don't mind. Cause, you know... Ya snooze, ya lose and all," she giggled, shoving her hands deep into her pockets to secure her cash. "But, who knows. Maybe Monday will be better for you. See ya, Patti!"

The blue girl shrugged her shoulders as if finalizing the entire conversation, and just like that, casually turned to walk out of the alley, leaving Patti and her companions behind in their state of utter confusion. Peach, suddenly realizing that she didn't belong amongst the three, rushed to follow.

The two of them walked down the street in silence for a long time, watching the streetlights turn on one by one before Peach finally mustered up the nerve to speak. "You really surprised me back there, Sonny," she squeaked.

Sonata turned to look at her, but when she did, she noticed Peach recoil a bit. A slight haze of green began to envelope the girl, but the Siren simply shrugged it off as being energy residue from their recent encounter. "Sometimes I surprise myself! Anyway, who doesn't like surprises, right?" Sonata blurted, offering her disarming smile.

This appeared to reassure the angel-eyed girl, and she laughed in response. "I'm sure Patti and her friends won't be wanting anymore of them for a while," Peach retorted, nudging Sonata in the shoulder.

"Well, if I keep doing it, it wouldn't really be a surprise anymore, would it?" Sonata asked, tapping her cheek thoughtfully.

This statement seemed to surprise Peach. "You're... going to keep doing this?" she asked.

"Eh. Ionno," Sonata lied as she shrugged, and began to hum to herself. Peach's friendly smile faltered again. Sonata, quickly losing herself to her own thoughts, never even noticed. They walked the rest of the way down the street in silence, Peach taking a moment every now and then to glance questioningly at her companion. She didn't know what it was she was searching for there, but it felt like, somehow, now her sweet, bubbly friend was a little bit harder to find inside of the person Sonata had put on full display a few moments prior.

When the two girls reached the corner where they usually split to go their opposite ways, Sonata turned, and smiled at Peach. The smile unnerved the angel-eyed girl, and she took a small step backward, forcing a laugh. "I... I guess I'll see you Monday, then?" she said with a shrug.

Again, Sonata tapped her cheek thoughtfully, then gasped when a brilliant idea came to her. "What about tomorrow? Wanna see a movie with me?" she asked.

Peach scratched the back of her head, and glanced down at her shoes. "Idunno, Sonny. I don't really have that much spending cash this week," she mumbled.

"Oh, don't worry about that, silly. It's my treat!" Sonata offered, patting down the sides of her rather fat pockets.

Peach hesitated for a moment, her eyes darting around. Finally, she let out a big sigh, and gave Sonata an affectionate grin. "Well, then, I suppose that's an offer too good to refuse," she laughed.

Sonata bounced around gleefully, blurting out all of the plans she had in store for them the following day before the two finally parted ways after one, last, friendly wave. As she continued on down her block toward home, Sonata couldn't help but suppose that perhaps things were beginning to look up.

___

"Really, we were just so lucky to have caught you with a free space this week, and right before our trip! I just don't know what we would've done if Cryssie couldn't see you for four whole weeks. You know about her stubby finger condition, right? Heavens, I don't even want to think about how she would sound after a full month away from the piano," the hyperactive, pale, blue-skinned woman crowed.

Adagio Dazzle sat across from her upon a sickeningly floral patterned couch, in a sickeningly floral decorated piano room, sipping from a small cup of tea in order to hide her clear disinterest in what the woman was saying. Pulling the cup away from her lips, she looked the jittery woman over, and forced a small smile of her own. "Well, the piano is a fickle instrument. The ability to play it can be rather... tenuous," the curly-haired girl said before taking another sip from the cup, hoping the edge of the piece of china could hide the roll of her eyes.

The other woman had begun to nod furiously before Adagio had even managed to finish her sentence. "Absolutely right. That's what I always tell her. Use it or lose it, little missy! But do you think she ever listens to me? No, of course not. And what is a musical performer without at least one instrument under their belt, right? Why, she would have never even made it into the 'Star Seeker' talent search finals if she hadn't played that fantastic piano solo you taught her. And, just between you and me, my neighbor Stellar? She was so jealous when I told her the news. Why, I thought she would just explode..." she rambled on.

At the sound of the woman's voice, Adagio felt her rage levels rising. Thus, she decided that it would be best to tune her out all together. Of course, as her luck would permit, soon after, she heard her name being called. When her eyes bolted upward to stare at the woman, the expression on her face told her that an answer was currently expected for something she had not heard. "I'm sorry?" Adagio blurted, wiping a drop of tea from her lips.

"I said: How long have you been playing again? I'm so sorry, I just keep forgetting, but you're a pro. So, I'm sure it was for quite a while, right?" the woman asked, taking a sip from her cup.

Adagio's gaze could not grow any wearier. This woman, Ms. Crescendo, was an absolute oddity, one of those secretly unfulfilled mothers who only raised their children to be an image of the life she wish she had lived during her own youth. To the former Siren, the other woman's endless talking was an obvious giveaway. She talked so that she wouldn't have to think about how unhappy she was with her own life. She talked so that she wouldn't have to genuinely absorb the news of others' good fortunes when they expressed them to her, and regardless of whether Adagio could, in any way, find the jittery woman amusing, one thing was for certain. Her endless talking was had the ability to instantaneously drive the Siren toward violent thoughts.

As Ms. Crescendo continued to sip the tea, waiting for Adagio's reply, the yellow-skinned girl cocked an eyebrow in the usual fashion, and smirked. She placed her cup and saucer down upon the coffee table in front of her, and crossed her arms. "Oh, for about five hundred years now, give or take a year," she said, staring daggers into the blue woman's face, looking for any reaction whatsoever. As she expected, she received none. Ms. Crescendo had barely heard her, and continued to sip on tea as she nodded her head. Adagio's smirk now turned into a smug smile. "Of course the first two hundred years were all on harpsichord," she continued. Still more nodding from the blue-skinned woman. "You know... Because the piano hadn't been invented yet."

It was this statement that finally got Ms. Crescendo to glance upward with a gasp, and when she did, she saw Adagio sitting back comfortably, unafraid in her seat, arms and legs crossed, simply waiting for something, anything, to happen. After a brief pause, the other woman began to laugh heartily. Wiping a stray tear from her eye, she swatted a hand in Adagio's direction. "Oh, Adagio Dazzle, you absolutely slay me," she sighed, shaking her head.

Adagio grinned brightly, her jaw just a tad too stiff. She gave a small, weary chuckle of her own. "If only. If only," she whispered to herself through clenched teeth.

All of a sudden, like a gift from the heavens, a loud crash came from upstairs.

"Maaaaaaa!" an ear splitting voice shrieked from somewhere unseen. "I can't find my Star Seeker packet, and I wanna show it to Adagio! Where'd you put it?"

"It's on your dresser, Cryssie, dear!" Ms. Crescendo called in return, somehow still managing to sound polite while doing so.

"It's not there!" the voice replied, sounding now as if it might begin to cry.

After this, the pale azure colored woman quickly bolted upward to her feet, nearly dropping her teacup and saucer. Placing them down gently, she passed a cordial smile toward Adagio who still sat cross legged on the couch, feigning patience. "Pardon me a moment," the woman said, raising a finger. She then turned around, sped out of the room, and up the stairs in the hallway.

No sooner had she completely disappeared from view did Adagio let out a giant sigh of relief. Rising quickly to her feet, she marched toward the baby grand that sat nearby, and plopped herself down upon the piano chair. She gazed angrily at the collection of magazines and old mail that sat atop the thing, wondering why anyone would hinder the sound of such a beautiful instrument by using it like a cheap coffee table. Not bothering to open any of her booklets just yet, she straightened her back, reached her hands out, and flexed her long, elegant fingers. The crack of the joints could be heard just before they came down heavily upon the keys, running through tumultuous arpeggio after arpeggio. Up and down the board she went taking her anger out on the instrument.

She closed her eyes as she played, having long ago memorized every inch of the board. Making an attempt at shifting her mind away from what the song was blatantly trying to tell her proved a complete failure. Try as she might, her mind's self imposed fog gradually began to dissipate. All that remained as it did was the truth of her current predicament. No matter how much time she gave it, no matter how patient she tried to remain, it never faded nor did it dim, and the truth was that here sat a thing that was once Adagio Dazzle. There was a time when that name would invoke reverence, and another in which it would invoke awe, and then eventually fear. Yet, now the name meant very little, if anything, to anyone else. Did that mean that she meant nothing, and served no purpose? She had to struggle with keeping at arms length the notion that, now, she was even less than a mere shadow of her former self—the utter indignity, the utter unfairness of it all.

These mortals that she was now forced to live subject to in exchange for pieces of green paper used to mean very little to her. To her they were mere prey, sustenance for her power. The ones whom she could tolerate, even the ones whom she had learned to appreciate, could never penetrate her immortal mind with their naivety. And, was it not fate who had deemed this so? Was it not fate that had ripped and scarred, mashed and molded her sistren and her into what they had become? If she could have had it her way, she would have been a shining example of a simpler kind of joy. She would have sung, and she would have been content with others loving her song. She would have been content with a grand estate in the countryside, gardens filled with birds to sing with, and a happy, mortal life. It wasn't inappropriate or too much to ask for, but alas, destiny had surmised otherwise. It was destiny that had led her down the path to becoming the type of bitter creature that would serve a needed purpose in the universe—the need for chaos. It was destiny that did this by destroying all that she had held dear in the dawning of her life. So, when the truth of her purpose was finally revealed, she had accepted it, as all the sirens did, saying 'Damn it all' to her previous life and desires, knowing that they could never be hers. Eventually, she learned to like this new being she had become, reborn from strife. She became a vessel of the very chaos she reaped, just as destiny had wanted her to. Thus, it seemed obvious that it was also destiny that had brought her and her fellow sirens down to this current, deplorable state. She had been duped, hoodwinked, bamboozled. Could anyone really fathom the notion of being used up, and thrown away by the universe itself, to be deemed useless by creation, tossed out like dirty rags into a void of nothingness when one's job was over, and in such an unjustified manner?

There was a time when she had enough power to control an entire world. Then one cool summer evening, in the blink of an eye, that power was snuffed out like the weakest of dimming candles. It was crushed like an ant underfoot by the same kind of naive, simple minded creatures she once drained for sport, idiots that could never even fathom the type of pain she had experienced, lifetime after lifetime. Now, here the three of them were serving these talking food bags, watching as the little creatures realized the types of little dreams, and gained the types of little accomplishments that she and her sisters would have gladly given anything to have for themselves those many lifetimes ago.

Adagio's fingers stopped moving, resting on a soft and somber chord, one which was both familiar and terrifying to her. Her widened eyes stared down at her fingers as she just now realized how out of breath she had become pounding away at the piano. "So close," she breathed to herself, barely above a whisper. A small bead of sweat formed upon her brow. She lifted her hands, placed her shaking fingers very deliberately upon a particular set of keys, and after a beat of silence, pressed down.

She sighed and closed her eyes as the keys rang out the infamous melody, the song that they had sung the evening they had lost their powers. The Battle of the Bands was not the first time she and her fellow sirens had used that incantation. On the contrary, it was an ancient and quite meaningful melody to them. Born out of a shared strife and desperation during the dawn of their lives, and sung only during moments of greatest distress or despair, that song had saved them in times when all hope had seemed lost. It had delivered them from all sorts of powerful magic, riots, angry mobs, secret schemes, and even their own penchant for self destruction. It had wrought merciless sorrow and vengeance upon those that were foolhardy enough to claim themselves as worthy challengers. Though the spirit of the incantation, over time, had changed the words and rhythms of the song as they were expressed and funneled through the girls, its living soul still remained the same. The haunting melody had endured even beyond the sirens' ability to use it, but back when they could, she and her sisters had wielded the song like a sword with endlessly sprouting blades. The crushing power of their voices would crescendo, chorus after chorus, until their foes, no matter how mighty, were inevitably vanquished. It had worked every time. It was supposed to have worked at the Battle.

A small smile escaped her when the notes of Aria and Sonata's harmonies blended beautifully into the mix. The sound of their distinct voices had, naturally, implanted themselves upon her brain, and she remembered them fondly as one would the birthmarks of close siblings. Aria once had the best soprano of them all. Ethereal, holy, it floated like a single golden thread in the wind, dancing and twirling gorgeously, capturing the minds of anyone within earshot. With this voice, she would reel them all in. Sonata's strong, twisting, heart wrenching alto would confuse them, cloud their mind, and weigh them down, thwarting off any innate desire to escape. Adagio's piercing lead would then easily penetrate them, infest and replace their minds, playing them like puppets to do the girls' bidding.

A small laugh escaped her. Truth be told, it was bubbly Sonata who had surprised her and Aria with the most powerful voice of them all. It didn't take long before she had realized that it was the girl's undying righteous passion and devotion that had made this so. Adagio remembered how rapturously the blue girl had sung during what would be their final battle. She had sung with utter abandon, her incantation so powerful that her voice had begun to harmonize, and double over upon itself—an ability that had taken Adagio quite a while to perfect. What was heartbreaking about the girl's efforts was that they were all for Adagio and all for naught. So much faith Sonata had put in her, and she had betrayed the girl with her failure.

By and by, Adagio's lips parted, and a sudden look of worry crossed her face. It was almost as if she expected to be struck down again if she dared say anything. Slowly, the words came, cracked, broken, and defeated.

"What we have in store, all we want and more. We will break on through..." she trailed off, and so did the sound of the piano. Her hands now rested uselessly upon the keys as her lips parted again.

"All we want..." she repeated, only managing to whisper it this time. Something wet began to form at the corners of her eyes as she meditated, in that pregnant silence, upon those old, familiar lyrics. Now, after two thousand years, here the invocation sat, flat, dead, and useless upon the tip of her tongue. "We will break on through," she sighed with finality, bowing forward to allow her head to rest upon the top of the piano. The two tears that had been threatening to fall for the past few minutes finally ceded under their own weight, and plopped unceremoniously onto the shiny, black, lacquered surface.

Turning her head to the side, away from the keys, Adagio decided that it would be best to not dwell on how little she believed the words of that song anymore. By and by, the world came back into focus. It was only then that she caught sight of a shiny beauty of a letter opener teetering precariously off the side of the baby grand, next to the pile of papers and magazines. She scoffed when the first inclination that entered her mind was that of destiny, any siren's sworn enemy, now bidding her to snatch it up right away, and plunge it deep into her own chest. The smirk on her face slowly turned into a thoughtful smile as she mused on how hilarious it would be for spoiled little Crystalline Crescendo and her utterly irritating mother to descend the stairs, and enter their blooming nightmare of a piano room, only to find all of their beloved roses and begonias splattered with red. Lying there would be Adagio Dazzle, expired only after having dug her dirty shoes into their disgusting couch. The horror. A small snicker escaped her, and then died, as did her smile, when that single, morbid thought began to gel and solidify within her brain.

As she slowly sat up, and began to reach out with one shaking hand, she recalled the time she had lied to her sisters about ever even having these types of urges. It had happened during one of many dark and volatile evenings following the Battle of the Bands when her companions had accused her of not taking their feelings for their profound loss seriously. All three of them had been going through the darkest parts of their depression, but only she had decided to feign an air of composure bordering aloofness, barking loudly about meaningless chores instead of allowing the other two their due time to grieve. After all, she was the one who was always cool, calm, and collected. She was the one who was supposed to be utterly unbreakable.

Alas, right now, she couldn't help but try to convince herself that maybe Aria and Sonata did not, in fact, need her to be strong for their sakes. Perhaps this was all an elaborately self-constructed excuse in order to keep herself here. Maybe it was all just a frilly lie.

Her hand closed around the cold letter opener, and brought it up to her face. Strangely enough, she laughed, and rolled her eyes at it, almost as if the letter opener itself could be made to feel inadequate. Still, when she looked at it again, it was as sharp and menacing as ever. The fact that she felt shaken at the sight of the thing only worked to irritate her. Nothing disturbed her inner confidence unless she deemed it be disturbed. Thus, taking a deep breath, she decided she would just have to prove to herself that such an insignificant object could never faze her. Adagio Dazzle, no matter how much she was wrongfully punished by fate, would always be a survivor. She would always be a fabulous woman worth being; nothing could change that. Thus, she resolved herself to proving this with a test. Reaching toward her collar with her free hand, and without looking, she undid the top button of her blouse, exposing the butter-hued flesh of her chest. Keeping her eyes open, steady, and trained upon the blade in her hand, she turned the tip of the letter opener toward bare skin, and simply sat there for a moment, meditating.

Pros and cons—she recognized herself as a rather rational-minded being, and was usually very good with weighing the both of them. Yet, lately, she had to admit that some of her more level-headed thoughts had begun to seem absurd, whilst what she would usually call irrational had slowly begun to make a great deal of sense. She had chalked all of these strange ruminations up as being a result of her withdrawal symptoms, only so that she wouldn't be required to accept them for what they really were—logical and enticing. It was true that all it would take was just one quick shift, one swift decision, and she might have been allowed the chance to scoff, be it ever so briefly, in the face of destiny, destiny who had trapped her within endless lifetimes by feeding her own pride and sense of self importance. However, for as long as she had known herself—and it had been a very long time—Adagio never once had known herself as a loser or a quitter. Then again, perhaps pushing the blade in wouldn't be quitting. Maybe it was victory in disguise. Perhaps, it was time she think radically.

The coldness of the blade as it touched her skin, stung in a way that forced her into alertness just as soon as a horrible, shrieking voice came echoing down the hallway toward the piano room.

"Adagioooo! Look at my Star Seeker booklet!" the voice cried, shaking her out of her daze. The former siren was startled, and jerked the blade, accidentally leaving a long, red scrape upon her chest. At first she went wide eyed, her mouth agape, as the deep cut began to sting. She barely had time to settle her own nerves before a preteen girl with light blue skin bounded into the doorway to face her.

Adagio could only imagine what type of spectacle she was putting on as the smile on the girl's face slowly dissolved into a look of nervous questioning. It was all the curly-haired woman could manage to just sit, and stare for a split second, letter opener in one hand, blouse top unclasped, and fading tears in the corners of her eyes. She had been caught being vulnerable and unsettled in her feelings, and that was utterly unacceptable. So, she resolved herself to do what Adagio Dazzle did best when she was hurt which was, namely hurt someone else. She managed to catch her breath, and quickly cross her arms, tucking the clenched letter opener beneath one of them while simultaneously hiding the now bleeding, red mark down the center of her chest. She cocked a haughty eyebrow in the girl's direction, and smirked. "Once again, Crystalline Crescendo, you seem to have mistaken me for someone who enjoys the slow frittering away of their time. I'm going to the restroom, and when I return, those ballades better be impeccable."

Adagio had barely managed to hobble into the bathroom, and lock the door before her legs collapsed from under her. She fell to the floor. It was only now that she inhaled a loud, rapturous gasp as a sense of exhilaration consumed her. Gawking down at the long, bleeding line upon her chest, she contemplated why such a seemingly small thing had incited such a grandiose feeling inside of her. After all, this certainly was not the first time she had been wounded, and it certainly was not the worst wound she had ever received. In fact, she had been healed of mortal wounds, and restored from the brink of death a few times during her life with the help of her and her sisters' powers. It was this thought that made her realize that now, being powerless, every little scratch she received would, henceforth, be permanent. Perhaps this explained the revolutionary feeling that now enveloped her, making everything around her spin. It was a feeling she hadn't known for quite a while. It was that strange mix of fear and wonder at the unpredictability and the inevitability of death.

Her eyes were dripping tears when she finally snapped out of her daze. Glancing at her right hand, she realized she had been clenching the letter opener the entire time, and immediately threw it into the corner in disgust. Lunging for the toilet paper, she yanked a long trail through the air, and slapped it against her chest, desperate to staunch her bleeding. Instead, she accidentally began to smudge even more blood onto her once pristine white blouse. This made her panic. Her hands flailed through the air as her breath quickened. "No. No, no, no!" she pleaded to no one in particular as her eyes darted around the room. She spotted the sink, and immediately reached out to clench onto its side. Gingerly pulling herself up to her feet, she leaned over the basin. Moving to reach into the cupboard inside of the mirror, she spotted something therein that made her freeze—her own reflection.

Red eyed, face completely flushed, hair a sweaty, disheveled mess, and blood smudged all about, Adagio could only gawk at whatever this wretched thing was that stared back at her. The sight filled her with disgust, and it took a moment to remember that it was herself that she was looking at. Still, she sneered at the reflection, and spat into the sink. The fog that encapsulated her began to clear, and slowly she managed to stand up straight. What a mess, crying like a worthless, spineless rat because of one scratch? Is this what she had been reduced to? Certainly not. Not if she had any say in it. However, as these thoughts rushed through Adagio's mind, she couldn't help but feel slightly unsettled by the notion that perhaps she didn't have any say. Destiny was a powerful foe, but she had yet to admit to herself exactly how powerful. One thing was for certain, though. If she was going down, she wasn't going down without a fight.

Taking a deep breath, she reached up toward her hair, tugged it all back, and wrapped it around itself, forming a gigantic bun. Then, she turned on the cold water, and bowed over the sink basin. Splashing the cool liquid onto her face and the back of her neck made her feel an infinite number of times better, and when she stood up straight, she was pleased to find that her reflection again resembled something of its proud owner. Reaching into the cabinet, she found a small tin of band-aids, and plastered about seven of them along the stinging trail on her chest before closing up her blouse, and rinsing out as much of the blood as she could. In the end, a large pink smudge remained, emblazoned across her chest, evidence of her moment of weakness. She resolved herself to wearing her sweater over it until she could reach the sanctuary of her house.

After cleaning up the rest of the bathroom, she found herself standing with her hand on the doorknob, head leaned against the door. She wanted to venture outside, but she knew that, at this point, her day was completely shot. There was no way she was going to make it through another twenty minutes of Crystalline's boorish piano pummeling with her sanity intact. Alas, she knew she could not remain in the restroom forever, and inhaled deeply.

Barging out into the hallway, she made a quick dash for her sweater on the hook by the front door. Once it was secured around her body, she called out to Cryssie, feigning concern. "How's it coming? Are you ready for an audience?"

She felt almost as if she could cry as she entered the blindingly tacky piano room again, and knew that she might have to make a quick dash back to the restroom as she neared Crystalline. Then, suddenly, by way of some divine providence, a blessing was bestowed upon her. She froze mid-step when she heard them. Eight measures, she counted. The sound of eight whole measures of what should have been eighth notes came mangled and slow. The source?—Crystalline's unpracticed fingers.

It didn't matter what the excuse was, really, Crystalline and her mother knew the rules. Adagio had made it very clear to them on day one that she would not entertain students who refused to practice. Thus, barely being able to hide her own content, she bid the child and her mother farewell, reminding the girl that she expected all of the same ballades to be perfect by the time she got back from her competition. Bashfully, Crystalline agreed while Adagio quickly collected her things, payment for the day included, and headed out of the front door.

The fresh, early evening air did much to lift her spirits. She even managed a smile as she neared her bus stop. Thankfully, Cryssie's lessons were always scheduled last on her daily rounds, for obvious reasons, and by the time they were done, she was usually drained.

Collapsing onto the wooden bench by the stop, she sighed wearily, leaned her head backward, and allowed her eyes to close as she contemplated more enjoyable things like dinner and the much needed bath awaiting her at home. Her brow furrowed slightly as Aria crossed her mind. She wondered whether or not the other girl had actually made it out on time, and whether or not her later work schedule would also spell more late nights out doing who knows what.

All of these thoughts dissipated as the sound of slow and steady footsteps approached. Adagio's eyes opened up in a moment of realization, and immediately, she reached toward her collar, removed her sunglasses from where they hung, and casually placed them upon her face. She listened as the second lone bus patron neared the bench and stopped, the heel of their shoe kicking up some gravel. Spotting a flash of yellow and red, and the shine of a leather jacket out of the corner of her eye, Adagio pretended as if she didn't notice the girl now taking a seat on the complete opposite side of the bench. Tilting her shaded face away, she waited for the other girl to stop staring at her, as usual. By and by, she heard her shuffling inside of a bag, and pulling out what the former siren assumed was a book. Only then did Adagio turn her gaze back toward her front.

Anyone who knew them both might have found the scene almost comical, and one would be justified to suppose that Adagio might feel nothing but fury at the notion of having to share a daily bus ride home with the one person who had caused her so much grief. Still, the reality of the situation was that the sight of Sunset Shimmer, while once enraging to her, now only managed to inspire feelings of slight discomfort and irritation. The damage that the little turncoat had done was immeasurable and beyond repair, but after a time, it had dawned on the former siren that continuing down the path of vengeance, especially in their weakened states, would only lead to her and her sisters' own destruction. So, she decided to put that all aside for the time being in order to focus on more important matters, namely keeping her sistren and herself alive.

Still, the rides had been awkward, to say the least. Considering that neither of them had any desire to speak to the other, they consisted mostly of Sunset trying her best to take brief glances at Adagio while not being noticed, and the curly-haired girl, clearly noticing her doing this, trying her best to keep her shaded eyes directed toward the front of the bus. She figured that the less emotion she showed, the more Sunset would wonder what was going through her mind, and the more she wondered, the more she would worry. This thought, at least, gave the former siren some small joy.

A few moments later, Adagio noticed the bus coming up the hill, and slicked her hand over the front of her tightly bound hair in relief. With a sigh, she got to her feet, and quickly made her way toward the bus stop sign post, eager to get on board first. This was yet another small pleasure of hers. She knew that Sunset would always relinquish the front of the line to her, probably thinking that her former nemesis might retaliate violently if she didn't. Smiling smugly to herself as the bus came to a stop, and the doors opened directly in front of her, Adagio took her time stepping daintily into the vehicle. Her one regret was that her hair was not loose today so that, perhaps, she might be able to flip it backward into the other girl's irritating face.

After getting onto the bus, Adagio took a few steps into the aisle before completely stopping, a thought having struck her. She then began to search through her pockets and musical booklets as if looking for something. Truth be told, she wasn't searching for anything at all. Instead, she was simply trying to force Sunset Shimmer into taking a seat so that she might be able to sit directly behind her. Ever the devious Dazzling, she knew that not only was Sunset too proud to show fear or to relinquish worried words to her, but also that without being in the leather-clad girl's line of sight, she would make the honorary Rainboom so many delectable flavors of uncomfortable. She had had a long, hard day, and deserved a pick-me-up. Being front and center when those deliciously green fumes of worry and fear began to leak from the girl's every pore seemed like just the tonic that her mood needed.

Much to Adagio's dismay, Sunset still proved to be as stubborn as ever. She tapped her fingers, shuffled her clothing about, even cleared her throat loudly in an attempt to signal to the former siren that she wished to pass. Seeing as how Adagio prided herself on being unrelenting when it came to getting what she wanted, she decided to take that particular opportunity to pull a small compact and lipstick tube out of her sweater pocket. She then began to apply lipstick, very, very slowly.

"Say, can you girls have a seat, already?" the bus driver, a stout, bearded man, yelled.

At once, Adagio heard a soft, defeated sigh come from behind her, and smiled victoriously as she heard Sunset Shimmer finally take a seat. Moving quickly, she then took the seat directly behind her, and settled in for quite an amusing ride. As the green fumes began to twist and twirl off of Sunset's body—smelling distinctly of suspicion and paranoia—Adagio grinned, and licked her lips.

Author's Note

Here is audio for the piano bit Adagio plays this chapter. I call it:
'Adagio's Dirge'

An End to Grace Notes

Stepping off of the bus at her stop near the edge of town filled Adagio with a sense of relief. Thankfully, Sunset Shimmer would usually get off six stops before hers; so, she didn't have to worry about any more snooping than the usual that could be expected from the girl. Finally, her responsibilities for the day were over with, at least if one were to accept the notion that Aria and Sonata could take care of themselves. Thinking over all of the shocking events of her day, she realized that perhaps she had been taking on too much, putting too much pressure on herself. Rubbing the burning spot under her sweater, she then grimaced. If that rotten little Crystalline hadn't walked into that piano room at exactly the wrong moment, Adagio would not be having to deal with this nuisance of a pain, now. After all, she would never have actually done that to herself on purpose... would she?

Turning up the walkway toward the old, looming house before her, she was relieved to see that no lights were on inside. At least she would have the place to herself for a little while longer. Quickly unlocking the door and stepping inside, Adagio then braced her back against the other side of the entrance, and slid exhaustedly to the floor. After sitting there with her head in her hands for a few minutes, she kicked the shoes off of her feet, stood up, and marched straightaway up the stairs.

Barging into the bathroom, she wrenched open the shower curtain, and turned on the tap water to fill up the tub. She then began to bustle about the house, putting away all of the evidence that the day had ever even happened. A thought then struck her, and she headed toward the kitchen. When she entered, she immediately began searching through the cupboards.

Usually, she wasn't one to get drunk just for the hell of it, but if she were to acknowledge that today had been one of those kind of days, then she would also have to acknowledge that alcohol was a quick and effective balm for those who experienced them. However, as she found each subsequent cupboard bare of any wine—her particular poison of choice—she began to get more and more desperate, wondering if she had ever actually instructed Sonata to purchase some for her. Ending her frantic search at the fridge, Adagio snatched the door open, and peered inside for anything that might do the trick. The only drinkable items she found therein were a full pack of juice boxes sitting right next to a half-finished pack of beer, both of them distinct reflections of their purchasers. Adagio frowned at the sight of these, and then sighed. Grabbing two of each, she then headed back up the stairs, and into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

The ritual was second nature. A few candles were lit, and the bathroom light was turned off. Incense was burned, and gradually, a warm, pleasant-smelling haze filled the glowing room. Popping open a bottle of pink bath oil, Adagio smiled at its fragrant scent of rose before she poured it into the tub. Wondering if there was anything more to be done, a strange feeling of anxiety befell her when she realized there wasn't.

She hadn't really had a chance to think clearly about what had happened to her at the Crescendos' house that day, even right after it had occurred. Her state of panic and desire to leave had won out over any in depth brooding that could have taken place over the incident. Now, however, everything was quiet and calm. There was nothing expected of her. She had been left to her own devices. She laughed in disbelief when she found herself wondering whether or not she would be having a nicer experience if one of the other girls was home making some type of irritating noise that was sure to distract her, even just a little, from her own troubled thoughts. "Now you're losing it, Adagio," she muttered to herself as she moved to stand in front of the bathroom mirror. She began to undress.

Everything else besides her blouse came off first. It was almost as if she didn't want to confront the sight again. Haunting questions began to pervade her mind. Would it be uglier now that she had time to inspect it more clearly? Would it leave a permanent scar? What about getting it wet? Would it sting? How long is something like this supposed to hurt? Shaking her head free of what she deemed cowardly thoughts that were unbefitting of her, she closed her eyes, and quickly unbuttoned the pink-stained blouse. After this, she then undid her bra. She reached toward her chest, and ran her fingers over the column of band-aids that sat there. Taking another deep breath, she then slowly began to peel each of them off, one by one. When they were all gone, she stood there for a moment, working up the courage to open her eyes. When she finally did, and took in the long, dark gouge that sat upon her once pristine skin, she felt a painful pang in her heart.

Try as she might, it was just not a sight she figured she could get used to. Oh, why did she even bother to pick up that stupid letter opener in the first place? Now, she would have to spend her eternity making sure the other girls never found out about it. She felt herself welling up with self-pity, and moved her hand to graze against the cut. It stung, badly.

As her fingers attempted to gently follow the terrible trail, she was startled by the sudden sound of the front door opening, and slamming shut. Brushing against the wound too harshly, she hissed in pain, crouched, and held her breath, waiting for the sensation to pass.

"Adagio! I'm ho—" came a bubbly voice from downstairs.

Hearing Sonata abruptly cut her sentence short, Adagio wondered, in her daze, if something had happened. With a sigh, she then resigned herself to simply worrying about that which concerned her for the time being. As she ambled over toward the tub, and gingerly stepped inside, she heard the voice call once again.

"Adagio?" Sonata shouted, sounding much more nervous this time.

Settling herself into the tub, and wincing at the initial sting of the water upon her chest, Adagio exhaled, and leaned back. Ignoring the other girl for a second time, she eyed the clutter of drinks that she had placed next to the tub, and quickly snatched up one of the beers. Cracking it open, she stared at it for a moment in disdain before holding her nose, and chugging it down. "Ugh, revolting!" she sputtered a few times before repeating the action, as if forcing down a disgusting tonic. She figured the faster she drank, the sooner its effect would kick in.

Finishing the first can, she crushed the empty thing in her hand, and tossed it toward the nearby waste bin. Wiping her mouth, she gingerly reached toward the second one, and cracked it open. Holding her nose, once again, she momentarily stared at the can in utter disgust, and then moved to place it against her lips, almost looking as if she were about to kiss a frog.

An abrasive knock resounded against the bathroom door. Adagio's eyes shot open, and she stared at the entryway in disbelief. "You've gotta be kidding me," she muttered to herself.

"D... Dagi? Are you okay in there?" came Sonata's voice, ever so cautiously.

"You've gotta be kidding me, Sonata!" she yelled again, this time out loud. "What have I told you a million times?"

"I know! I'm sorry. I just needed to check if... I'm going now!" the blue girl blurted behind the door. No sooner had she said this could the sound of her hurried footsteps be heard scampering back downstairs.

Rolling her eyes, Adagio settled back into her bath, and moaned when she remembered the unfinished beer in her hand. Sighing heavily, she clamped her nostrils closed one more time, placed the beer to her lips, and tilted her head back, swallowing mouthful after mouthful. When the can was empty, she crushed and tossed it, yet again, and giggled when she found herself swaying to and fro ever so slightly.

Mission accomplished.

Closing her eyes as she slid deeper into the warm, enveloping water, she then reached for one of the juice boxes, popped in its garish, neon green straw, and set to work trying to wash the horrible taste of cheap beer off of her tongue.

Sonata bustled about the kitchen, pulling out pots, pans, and cooking ingredients to prepare for dinner. Anyone who glanced at her at that particular moment would have been able to see that something was troubling her. As she worked in silence, rinsing off a large head of broccoli, and then beginning to chop it up upon the cutting board, her mind wandered back to when she had first entered the house.

She had been feeling great, if not slightly wary for fear that one of the girls would have arrived home before her. She hoped that no one would be around to somehow spot the extra "fluff" in her jacket pockets that day; so, when she peeked her head in through the door, it was to her relief that she found no one downstairs. Moving quickly, she pulled the money from her pockets, rolled it up into a wad, and slid it down the front of her shirt. Taking her sweater off, and slamming the door, she then called upstairs after noticing the presence of Adagio's sweater and shoes. "Adagio! I'm ho—" she had begun to call. Her words were unexpectedly cut short by a sudden, painful pang in the center of her chest. She flinched, and caught herself against the wall, touching the once painful spot, wondering what it might be. Slowly, a sudden sense of anxiety befell her. Very confused, Sonata dropped her sweater onto the floor. She took a few more steps toward the stairs as her intuition began to speak to her.

"Adagio?" she had called again, slowly made her way up the stairs. By the time she stood opposite the locked bathroom door, intuition had turned into raw instinct. She knew now what it was that she had felt, and the thought frightened her. She had known that she wasn't supposed to knock, but in that circumstance, she had also known that it was necessary.

Now, as she stood absentmindedly throwing floret after floret of broccoli into a pot to steam, Sonata's brow remained furrowed as her internal conflict raged on, fueled by memory and experience. The chest pain followed by that familiar sense of foreboding had been of a sort that was startling, but not new to her in the slightest. Quite often, back when they had their powers, and when either she or one of her sisters had been injured in a way that might have diminished their drive or ability to sing, the other two would be able to feel the drop in the others' energy as well as what had caused it. Like most of their abilities, it wasn't something that any of them had ever been able to explain; however, after a time, they had come to the shared conclusion that their powers, though wielded independently and often in very different ways, still came from the same, mysterious source. Thus, a danger or detriment to that shared power, via its earthly avatars, was something that all three of its spawn would, undoubtedly, be made aware of.

It had been a while since Sonata had felt one of her sisters call to her through their pain like that, at least in the mortal sense—almost half a century. She remembered the instance when Aria, who expectedly was the most injury prone of the three, had gotten into a nasty motorcycle accident while riding home in the rain. It had been right after they moved to this town, and both she and Adagio had felt it the instant it had happened, nearly keeling over where they sat on their then brand new couch. Wasting no time, they went outside, charmed a car away from the nearest driver they could find, and sped off in the direction from which Aria's spirit had called. When they finally found her after about half an hour of driving up and down various wooded highways, she had been lying up against a tree on the side of a lonely road, bleeding, unconscious, and suffering from broken bones. Sonata remembered the terrified look on Adagio's face as she scrambled out of the driver's seat toward the girl who was sitting limp as an unmanned puppet in the grass. She remembered her elder's panicked breath, even though she had kept calling Aria an idiot, and wondering out loud when and why she had obtained the motorcycle. They both secretly knew that it had been for the same reason the girls had obtained a television for their new home, as well as fancy new furniture, and new sets of clothing. It was to represent a celebration of yet another new start in a new place, perhaps one that might prove fruitful one day, unlike all the rest.

Sonata had watched the curly-haired girl discreetly wipe her cheek, probably hoping that it would look as if she were wiping away rain. She carefully laid Aria flat upon the ground, then brought her forehead down to touch hers, and held either side of the girl's face in her hands. Sonata, who at the time was stunned, and trying her best not to cry, moved to Aria's other side, and bent down low next to her sister. A silence had ensued during which only the heavy patter of rain could be heard. As the two sirens meditated, listened, and dug deep within themselves for the words that were buried there, their gemstones had begun to glow. Slowly, a melodic hum grew in their throats right along with it. It was Adagio's lips that had parted first, but soon Sonata's voice joined in the call, harmonizing in kind.

May you hear us,
Our sister of the sea.
Like water may healing flow,
From our beings into thee.
We bid your eyes be open,
That we may then rejoice,
The reuniting of three,
Rekindling of one voice.

It had taken a few terrible moments of waiting, and singing, waiting, and then singing again before anything had happened. After a while of no response, Adagio had, hysterically, begun to scream the incantation at Aria. She had even slapped her face a few times before the girl had finally sputtered back to life, to both her sisters' relief. Her bones and bruises had even begun to heal with a few more repetitions of the incantation, and soon they were all heading back home—very slowly albeit—in the stolen car.

Of course, half a century, to a siren, wasn't much; so, the memory of all this still lived fresh within Sonata's mind. However, the now obvious question still hung in the air, heavy and pregnant with possibility. If their powers had been completely destroyed, then how could their bond by magic still remain? Perhaps she had just been imagining things, but what else could have possibly spurred on such an old, familiar, nagging sense of pain and foreboding when her evening had been going so well?

Sonata covered the pot of steaming broccoli over, and then got started on tearing apart a few slices of bread to set aside for meatloaf. In the meantime, her mind reeled. As far as she was concerned, there was only one person who would be able to clarify what happened for her. It took another hour or so for Adagio to come sauntering down the stairs, wrapped snugly in a berry red bathrobe. The look on her face was rather pleasant, and Sonata smiled at her as the other girl took a seat at the dinner table. "Meatloaf and mashed potatoes tonight," she said as she stirred a steaming pot, and covered it over.

Adagio seemed less than thrilled. "Fantastic," the elder siren said sarcastically. "No need to wait for Aria. She'll almost certainly be getting home later from now on."

"Really?" Sonata replied as she quickly began to fix two plates. After she had finished, she brought them over to the table, and placed one before Adagio.

The yellow girl stared down at the plate Sonata had set before her as she swayed, ever so slightly, from side to side. "Splendid," she muttered, then looking up, half lidded eyes directed toward the blue girl. "Sonata, next time you go shopping, buy me a bottle of red wine, will you?"

Sonata giggled, and nodded, digging right into her food. "Okey doke! Which kind?" she asked.

"The strong kind," Adagio sighed, picking up her fork.

While her sister appeared to be trying to decide which mound of undecipherable food substance she should taste first, Sonata continued to stare at her through the edges of her fringe. The youngest Siren ate quickly as if nothing was bothering her until she could contain herself no longer. Casually, she cleared her throat, forcing yet another bright smile onto her face. "Say, Dagi, nothing weird happened to you today or anything, did it?" she asked as if trying to make conversation.

Adagio, being the brilliant woman that she was, immediately became suspicious. "What do you mean, weird?" she asked.

Her glare made Sonata slightly uncomfortable, and the girl giggled, shaking her head."Oh, nothing, just making conversation. Weird stuff happens all the time in this town, right?" she asked, covering her tracks rather poorly. After mentally regrouping, she decided to try a different tactic. "Something weird happened to me," she murmured.

Adagio continued to eat, unbothered. "And what was that?" the elder siren asked, assuming that perhaps the girl had caught sight of a rabbit or a deer at the side of the road that day, or something else equally as boring.

"Well, I came home today while you were upstairs, and out of nowhere, I got this really bad pain. Right here!" Sonata immediately pointed to a spot in the center of her chest as she held her gaze expectantly on Adagio's face. Just as she had hoped, she caught the curly-haired girl's beer glazed eyes flicker, and then begin to glance anywhere except toward her.

Adagio coughed a few times, and dropped her fork. "You did?" she almost yelled, as she got to her feet, and leaned over the table.

Sonata held back a small smile, knowing that Adagio also recognized the implications of such a thing. "Yea, I did! Do you know what it might be?" Sonata continued in her attempt to lead the conversation.

A look of realization crossed Adagio's face, and her brow then furrowed. Perhaps it was the beer, but she had let herself slip once again. What Sonata had told her was extremely important news; however, in order to verify exactly what they both thought this phenomenon had been, Adagio would first have to come clean about what had happened to her earlier that day, and that was simply out of the question. Her head began to shake before words ever escaped her mouth. "No," she replied bluntly. "I can take a wild guess, though. You've probably been eating too much of that junk down at Sammy's, again. I've told you to stop doing that."

Sonata looked hurt as she watched Adagio pick up her plate of half-eaten dinner, and turn to head toward the stairs. As she began to ascend them, the youngest Siren shot out of her seat and ran toward her, grabbing hold of her free hand. "No, Adagio, wait!" she yelped.

Adagio, surprised at Sonata's brashness, spun her head around, and peered back at the girl from over her shoulder. It was clear the elder Siren was trying her best not to show the rush of thoughts and emotions now clouding her mind. As usual, searching for the right words, Sonata's lips opened and closed like a fish.

"Spit it out," Adagio barely managed to mumble, her voice shaking. She couldn't bare the look of concern in the younger Siren's eyes, nor the feeling of her hand squeezing tightly around her own.

"You... You'd tell me if something was wrong, right?" Sonata asked, barely above a whisper. It appeared that the two girls' eyes were having the conversation that their mouths could not bear to, because as she watched her, Adagio's eyes then clenched shut.

The elder Siren inhaled sharply, and turned away. "Sonata," she began quietly, "You know that I don't like being manipulated by anyone."

"Adagio, please. I'm not trying to manipulate you. I just need to know if—" Sonata whimpered before Adagio wrenched her hand out of the girl's grip. Without taking another glance at her, she hurried upstairs to her room.

Sonata winced at the sound of her sister's door slamming. She stared at the empty stairwell for a long time before turning to head back toward the kitchen. It hurt, and she resented the fact that Adagio would accuse her of false sincerity in regards to her concern for her well being. She cared about both of her sisters very much, though they did tend to treat her harshly at times. Thus, she resigned herself to ensuring her elder's well being, even if it meant that Adagio would lose face in front of her subordinates. Setting about to emptying and washing dishes, after she was done, Sonata then planted herself upon the couch to impatiently await Aria's return.
___

"Fucking beautiful," Aria said to herself sitting up straight, and pulling the face mask off of her nose and mouth. After removing her goggles, and placing her soldering iron back into its holster, she glanced down to inspect her handiwork. Finally, after all of her efforts over the past couple of days, the repair job on the boutique electric guitar she had been working on was complete. Poor thing. Some old, stoner jackass had brought it in last week with its insides worn to hell. It clearly hadn't had a gut-out in at least two decades. Aria was surprised the thing still even worked, and then immediately felt pissed to acknowledge that such a beautiful model could belong to someone who she was sure didn't have the wits to play it properly. However, that evening, here lay the instrument—which she had nicknamed 'Beauty'—restored to its former splendor, thanks to her. The soldering on the once worn pots and output jack was now firmly reinforced, and both of those components freshly replaced. The neck had been straightened, and the wood buffed to a shine. She had even sneaked into Cookie's office while she was out, and dug into the drawer where she knew the woman kept the expensive guitar strings. This wasn't for the sake of the customer, of course, but just so that, even for one second, Aria could stare in awe at the craftsmanship of something made to play the most beautiful of music.

Taking no heed to caution, since it was now evening, Wheeler was long gone, and Cookie was still out for her "hour long" lunch, Aria snatched the lovely, cream-colored thing up, walked over to one of the test amps that Cookie kept toward the back wall, and plugged it in. Strapping the guitar over her shoulder, she picked up a bag of picks that sat atop the amp, and pulled out her favorite one, a small and narrow pick with a mother of pearl pattern. Flipping it a few times between her index finger and thumb, she slowly turned up the gain on the amp with her free hand, and brought the pick down toward the string. Her eyes were wide as she licked her lips, eager to hear what kind of sound the instrument would make. "Be gentle with me," she joked to herself without even a hint of a smile. Quickly, she hit a C power chord in a downstroke, and laughed as the guitar sang, its cry echoing off of the walls.

"Holy shit!" she exclaimed as she skipped around in place a little, and set her fingers to really getting down to business. She then let loose a fast-paced, silky solo. Her nimble fingers moved swiftly, jumping up and down the fretboard, bending and tapping the strings as if the girl had been born with the instrument in her hands. Honestly, she had learned how to play the guitar about three hundred years ago, simply because she was bored, wanted an excuse to not have to talk to her sisters, and liked the ease at which it could be transported. Naturally, being the musical prodigy that it was fated she should be, she picked up the skill for it rather quickly. When her guitar sang, she had listened to it; however, she conceded that it wasn't until the electric guitar had been invented almost two hundred years later that she had ever actually heard what the instrument had been trying to tell her. From then on, it had been a love affair, and Aria's fondness for the instrument would span across any, if not all, genres and eras. One of her fondest belongings was her record collection, stowed away in the attic along with the rest of her sisters' old crap. Every now and then, she would venture up to the dusty old room, break out her archaic record player, and simply sit and listen to them for hours. Old blues, big band, jazz, hard rock, punk, funk, metal, hip hop, bass, rhythm, lead, it didn't matter. If that oh so enticing and unpredictable twang so much as showed itself in a way she had yet to hear, she had to know it, she had to learn it, she had to have it all for herself.

Her eyes closed as she lost herself in the music. A familiar itch grew in her chest, which stunned her until she realized it had just been a cough trying to escape her still sore throat. Lost in what she was doing, she never even heard the jingle of the storefront bell, nor the door to the workroom opening up behind her.

"Weeell, welly, well, well, well!" Cookie exclaimed as she stood behind the startled girl. Aria spun around to glare at her. The look on the brown woman's face was ecstatically mischievous, to say the least.

"Cookie!" Aria gasped, tearing the guitar off from around her shoulders. "I didn't even hear you come back!"

"Yea, I know, I can tell! You and that thing seem to be in a rather committed relationship. I hope I'm not intruding."

"N-no!" the pigtailed girl stammered defensively as she then watched Cookie slowly begin to approach her, that giddy smile still plastered upon her face. "I finished fixing it, and was just testing it out is all."

"Uh huh. Mind if I wreck this happy home up a little bit then?" she muttered, edging up close to Aria, and hooking a finger beneath the guitar strap. Pulling it out of Aria's grip, she quickly placed the strap over her own shoulders, grabbed a pick out of her back pocket, and began to play a swift solo of her own.

The expression on Aria's face gradually changed from one of astonishment, to interest, and then to almost disappointed amusement. Cookie was good, but only in that endearing way that mortals with very limited time are. Something about her fingers were clumsy, not as precise as they could have been, not as careful, not as intimate. The shopkeep had only been in the presence of music, what, less than thirty years? She'd probably only been an avid conversationalist with it for a decade and a half, two decades, tops.

And yet, this had been the first time Aria had heard the other woman play in such length, something that she had always wished to hear ever since she had gotten to know her. The Siren leaned up against the wall, crossed her arms, and listened politely.

When Cookie finished, she turned around, and smiled at the rosey girl. "How do you like them apples?" she asked.

Aria, who had rarely ever lied to save someone else's feelings, smirked and mimicked a tiny applause. "You're good," she muttered, inspecting her fingers with a wry smile.

"Just 'good'?" Cookie asked, noting the inflection in the other woman's voice. "Them's fightin' words." She pulled the guitar off, and handed it back to Aria. Turning to walk toward a wall where about five more were hung, she pulled down a pretty, lime green instrument, strapped it on, plugged it in to another nearby amp, and performed a practice lick. "You know any Jimmy?" Cookie asked her.

"Which one?" Aria retorted, strapping the guitar back on.

Cookie shot the girl a wry smile. "Cute," she retorted, running through a minute straight of speedy soloing.

Aria picked up the place where she left off almost as if predicting where the other woman would stop playing. The pigtailed girl went on for three minutes straight. She could have gone on for longer, but didn't want to raise the woman's suspicions. She smiled when she saw a flicker of green begin to halo the woman's head. Was she making Cookie Dough nervous?

Looking determined, Cookie pulled the solo away from Aria one more time, even though she had still been playing. She sped up her own fretting significantly, her fervent mortal fingers flying. Aria could barely contain her amusement at the sight of Cookie straining to show off. She waited a moment before continuing her own solo; however, this time, just for a second, she lost herself in her own ability, and began to play fast, very fast, just slightly too fast than what should have been possible. Cookie's own playing slowed to a halt, her pick dropping to the floor as she gawked at the younger woman.

Aria's eyes shot upward when she heard Cookie's playing stop, and suddenly, realized what she had done. Thinking quickly, she deliberately began to miss strings, forcing a groan. "I can only keep that up for a second. Nice trick, huh?" she lied, quickly turning off the amp, and pulling the plug from the guitar. Usually, she was more mindful about showing mortals more than they should know, unless she was purposely just trying to freak them out. This, however, had caught her off guard. She gripped her arm self consciously, unable to meet Cookie's gaze. Her eyes shot open when she heard Cookie begin to laugh.

"You're amazing!" Cookie exclaimed. "How come you've never told me you... Do you know how much I... Wow!"

"Eh, it's really nothing. Really," Aria muttered, the smile fading from her face as she found this amount of doting a bit nauseating.

"You're joking right?" Cookie asked, cocking an eyebrow. When the pink girl shrugged, and continued to stare at her unmoved, the poofy-haired woman placed her hands on her hips. Aria could not tell if this was a show of defiance, defeat, or maybe a little of both.

"Alright, Aria Blaze. Ya clearly beat me at guitar," Cookie sighed."But that poker game down at Bubbles has my name written all over it."

"What poker game?" Aria asked, befuddled.

"The one I'm challenging you to, of course!" the white-haired woman exclaimed, grabbing her jacket off of the rack once again. "And once I win, you and me are gonna have us a little chat."

___

"Go," Aria groaned with a roll of her eyes.

"I'm going to!" Cookie replied glancing down at her cards, and then back toward the glum girl's unamused face.

"When? Next year?"

"No, now!"

"Okay, then go."

"I am!"

"... Listen, I gotta take a piss."

"Aria Blaze, you sit your ass right in that seat until this game is over, or else!"

Aria snickered at Cookie's frustration as she stared at the green fumes encircling the woman's head. She took another sip from her mug of beer, placed her cards face down upon the table for the time being, and leaned back in her seat. Bubbles, the bar down the street from Cookie's music shop, was pretty packed that evening. It was Friday night, after all, and everyone around them was clearly pre-gaming for the night. For the freer crowd, the popular bar—leaking with cheap ale—was only stop one on a long night filled with poor decisions. Aria and Cookie sat by the side wall of the establishment so as not to be disturbed unless absolutely necessary. Cookie's card deck was sprawled out onto the wooden table. Aria had bought her the first pint, just as she had promised, but by Cookie's second loss at five card draw, she was tipsy and desperate enough to offer to buy the following two as a bribe. She needed Aria to stick around so that she might win back her lost cash.

It was kind of sad, really. Aria new quite well that the more inebriated a mortal got, regardless of how, the easier it was to read their energies. Thus, whilst Cookie did her best to hide her emotions from Aria's penetrating, purple gaze, the former siren simply had to look around her boss in order to decipher whether or not the woman's current hand of cards was a good one. Aria, having long ago chosen to stay with her current hand, had simply been waiting on Cookie to finish trading in her cards so that she might put her out of her misery, yet again.

Cookie's eyes brightened at her fresh hand. "I'm raising you ten," she exclaimed victoriously.

Aria squinted, eyeing her energy. "You sure about that?" she asked the poofy-haired woman.

"Oh, don't give me that, you... you..." Cookie muttered. "I know you're shaking in those worn out boots of yours. Gonna win all of my cash back."

"Whatever you say, Cookie. I'll see your ten," Aria sighed, again, cocking an eyebrow.

The dour girl's almost disturbing composure frustrated Cookie to her wit's end. She had seen some poker faces in her day, but this woman's was, by far, the most unreadable. "Okay, so show 'em to me," she stated.

"No, you first!" Aria retorted.

"You stayed like a million years ago!"

"Yea, well you raised last!" Aria blurted. Things went quiet between the two. Cookie was now trapped by the technicalities of official dictate. "Them's the rules, Cookie."

"You think I don't have anything, don't you?" Cookie hissed.

Aria smiled smugly to herself. "I didn't say that."

"But you're thinking it. You're probably thinking I'm gonna fold or something. Oh, no. Oh, I've got something for you, believe me. I've got something big."

Aria muffled a chuckle at these words, and took one more sip of her beer. She cocked her eyebrow. "Yea? Well, whip it out!" she joked.

One more string of silence ensued before Cookie—allowing her carefully guarded awareness of her own impending doom to show all over her face—plopped her horrible hand of cards down upon the table.

Aria snorted, and began to laugh loudly, throwing her head back. "A pair of fours? Holy shit, Cookie! I knew you were bluffing, but—"

"Shut up," Cookie whined, finishing off her mug before pouring herself another. "You know, I don't get you, Aria. How do you win like that every time?"

Aria shrugged, and smiled mysteriously. "You've got a bad poker face," she lied.

"How is that possible? You can't even see my eyes!" Cookie yelled, lifting the front of her hair up to peer at the amused, pigtailed girl.

Aria shrugged, bidding the woman to simply forgive and forget, even though she had just lost fifty dollars. "Now that that's out of the way," the former siren sighed, "finish that thing you were telling me last week. That thing about the one time you got lost in that cornfield for five days."

"Eh, I don't feel like it," Cookie sighed, clearly drunk at this point.

Aria looked at her, slightly perturbed. "Didn't you say you wanted to chat?" she inquired.

"That's not what I meant, Pigtails," Cookie sighed. Somewhere underneath all of that hair, she rolled her eyes, then sat up. "How about you tell me where you learned to play cards, and I'll think about it."

"I already told you, I'm not telling," Aria replied, crossing her arms.

"Ok, then tell me where you learned to play guitar like that," Cookie retorted.

Aria thought for a moment. If she were to be honest, she would have to talk about the time she and the girls lived in Spain all those centuries ago, and yada, yada. It didn't matter, did it? Cookie would just believe whatever she told her, right?

"Hey! I saw that look!" Cookie exclaimed, pointing toward Aria's face.

"What look?" Aria asked, looking as if she had been caught stealing something scandalous.

"The look that you make when you're going to just make something up," Cookie replied. "Hey, I don't do that with you, Aria. So, don't do it with me. Just tell me the truth. It's just guitar. Nothing crazy."

Aria's shoulders began to fidget about nervously, now that she knew she was being studied. "Eh, just, around," she replied before occupying her mouth with the edge of her glass.

"Okay," Cookie murmured suspiciously. "Where is 'around'? How many places have you lived? I can't believe I've never asked you all this before. This is what I wanted to chat about. How do you manage to draw all the talking out of me? Me of all people, when I barely know a damn thing about you?"

"Practice," Aria muttered, hoping the honesty of the reply would be well hidden behind a veneer of sarcasm.

"Hey, don't joke around," Cookie chided. "Answer the questions. Where is 'around'? How many places have you lived?"

Aria's eyes shifted instinctively to the side again, as she tried to think.

"You did it again!" Cookie exclaimed.

"Cookie, you're imagining things," Aria said. Her skin was beginning to itch. Vigorously, she scratched at them.

"How old are you? Like, exact number, Aria. Where were you born?" Cookie asked with an air of finality.

Aria forced herself to meet Cookie's gaze even though she felt as if she wanted to run away screaming. She gulped down the lump in her throat, and closed her eyes for a moment to regain her composure. When they opened again, a stern look had replaced the previous expression. Her lips slowly parted. "The truth is, Cookie, I can't tell you any of that," she sighed, now very serious.

Another silence passed between them as Cookie blinked at her in drunken confusion.

"Trust me. If you knew all of those things, then things... would be different between us, and..." Aria stammered, scratching the top of her head. This was already more tender emoting than she had done in the past two months combined. "I just don't want things to change between us, you know? I really like your stories, and... I sound like a total nutjob." She shook her head, and wearily placed her face in her hands.

Cookie simply continued to stare, even when the Siren's eyes met hers.

The pigtailed girl resolved herself to picking up her mug of beer, taking one more sip, and motioning to stand. "I'm gonna go have a piss and a cigarette," she muttered.

The poofy-haired woman sat up in her seat, then stood, choosing to slide her chair right next to Aria's to prevent the younger woman from getting up. She sat down again, leaned in, and leered directly into the former Siren's eyes.

Aria, not used to such close contact in such public spaces, shied away. Her eyes went wide. "Cookie, what are you doing?" she croaked, forcing a nervous smile.

Cookie snatched up Aria's arm and held it tightly. Bringing the appendage up to her face, she stretched open the cuff of Aria's jacket, and peered inside. When she could see nothing, she shoved her own hand into the sleeve, grasping frantically at Aria's arm. "Go to the bathroom. Right, I'm so sure, Aria," Cookie muttered. "I'm gonna at least find these cards you've been cheating with. I can bet you that."

The Siren, expectedly, began to struggle in her grasp. "Hey! Let go! I... I don't like to be—AH!" she squealed as Cookie's hand brushed a particularly tender place beneath her arm. The Siren was lost somewhere between humor and agony before she took a single opportunity to wrench the offended appendage away, nearly falling out of her seat. "Don't fucking touch me, Cookie! I don't like to be touched like that!" she yelled, grasping her arm defensively. Her expression went dark and furious in a way the other woman had never seen.

Cookie, caught off guard, along with most of the bar patrons that surrounded their table, stared at her wide-eyed, mouth agape. Aria's gaze darted about at all of the gawking eyes. She shrank into her seat as an ancient, though familiar feeling of shame enveloped her. "I... I mean..." she began to stammer when, suddenly, she doubled over, and clutched her chest with a painful gasp. A strange ache and a sudden sense of foreboding befell her, one that felt very familiar. It was all too much—the touching, the staring, the yelling, the chest pain, the implication of it all. Her face went hot. The room began to spin. Standing up quickly, she glanced at Cookie one last time. "I've gotta go," she said before dizzily stumbling out of the door.

Aria felt mortified, vulnerable, and afraid, things that she wasn't used to feeling all at the same time anymore. As she ran all the way home, the sound of mocking laughter and spiteful whispering began to reverberate in her mind.

Author's Note

Here is the link to the healing incantation that Adagio and Sonata sing this chapter:
'Healing Incantation'

Exposed

Barging in through the front door, Aria braced herself upon her knees in order to catch her breath.

The sound of the door slamming made Sonata jump to her feet from where she sat on the couch. The blue girl's eyes were weary, but determined. She was rubbing anxiously at a space on her chest. "Aria!" she shouted. "D... Did you feel it too?"

"What the hell was that, Sonata?" Aria pressed, standing up straight and marching toward her. "How am I feeling this, and why? Is someone hurt?"

Sonata shook her head frantically, trying to get Aria to calm down, and stop trying to push her hand out of the way to search for injuries. "No, no, Ari! It's not me!" Sonata hissed, holding a finger up to her lips, bidding her fellow Siren to lower her voice. "I think it's Adagio. Aria, I think something's wrong." She approached Aria, and reached out cautiously, grabbing hold of the cloth of her sleeve. "She won't say anything to me. Maybe she'll talk to you."

Aria eyes narrowed, her lips pursed together. "What the hell makes you think she'll talk to me?" she hissed, glancing sporadically up the dark stairwell. "What is this, anyway? How is this even possible? We don't have our powers anymore."

"Just, make her talk, Aria! Just do it!" Sonata replied, her eyes going wide and glassy. There was a desperate concern in her voice, one that Aria knew would not be satiated until she did as she was asked. "Please, Aria. We... we can talk about why it's happening later. Right now, I just need to know that she's alright."

It took a moment, but after a while, Aria nodded, yanked her sleeve out of Sonata's grasp, and turned to head up the stairs.

Adagio lay flat on her back in bed, eyes closed, brow furrowed, utterly regretting ever having touched Aria's vile beer. Even though she was now dressed in her pajamas, and warm beneath her blanket, she was still in pain. About half an hour prior, she had worked up the courage to douse her horrid scratch in rubbing alcohol in order to clean it. She had nearly passed out, but somehow, managed to cleanse and re-bandage the wound. Now, lying there, she tried her best to ignore the dull ache so she could either think more clearly about what had happened between Sonata and her downstairs, or get some sleep. What she didn't expect, however, was the sudden knock on her door. "What now?" she groaned, opening one eye. Her frown grew even deeper when the door swung open to reveal Aria leaning cooly against the frame.

"Hey," Aria muttered.

"Hi," Adagio replied, feigning politeness. She was quick to drop the act. "Get out."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I need to borrow something," Aria sighed unfazed, daring to step into the eldest Siren's domain.

"Like you needed to borrow my glasses?" Adagio spat. "Yes, I know you took them, and I want them back."

Aria, not expecting the topic to come up, winced at the memory of having left the item back at work. "Uh, right, but no. Something else."

"Well, whatever it is, the answer is no," Adagio said flatly, far too achey to rage.

"Relax. It's just a pen," Aria said, pulling a random slip of crumpled paper out of her pocket to use as a prop. "I need to draw out a diagram for work, and I lost all of mine. So, just let me borrow one, okay?"

Adagio glowered at her before she sighed, rolled her eyes, and sat up, gingerly. She winced as she reached toward her bedside stand for a pen, and then tossed the thing over to Aria.

The pigtailed girl caught it with one hand, though her eyes were completely trained on her sister. She looked the elder girl over. "You okay, there?" she asked ever so cautiously.

"What do you care?" Adagio replied.

"Idunno. Maybe I don't want to catch any infectious diseases if you've got 'em," Aria scoffed as she turned the paper over, and pretended to write something.

Adagio's remained completely unamused. "Hilarious. Hurry up and get out," she ordered, now rubbing her temples.

"Fine, fine! Here!" Aria stated, holding the pen out as if to toss it. When she did, she very deliberately threw it short, making it land upon the bed near Adagio's feet.

Adagio, way beyond the point of exhaustion, rolled her eyes, and leaned over, wincing the entire time. As she managed to reach the pen, Aria caught a quick glimpse down the front of her pajama top to the white, bandage padding that sat beneath it.

The pigtailed girl's eyes went wide. "What the fuck is that?" she gasped, moving closer to Adagio's bed.

"What are you talking about?" Adagio asked, not yet having caught on. She edged away from the advancing Siren.

Aria, suddenly infuriated, shoved Adagio back onto the bed by her shoulder, and reached for her collar in an attempt to pull it down. "I'm talking about that fucking huge bandage on your fucking chest! What's under it? How'd you get it?" she screamed.

Adagio barely managed to roll out of her bed, and stand menacingly upon her feet. "Get the hell out of my room," she hissed, trying to catch her breath. Her eyes bored into Aria as she pointed toward the door.

"No. I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what the hell is going on. Sonata and I both felt that... that thing, whatever it is on your chest! Did you know we could still do that? Why are you hiding this from us when you knew we could still do that? Are you trying to cover up the fact that we still have powers or something?" Aria yelled, her hands balling up into fists.

Adagio's patience, at this point, was completely spent. The ache on her chest worsened, and a headache was beginning to set in. Not thinking clearly, she lunged forward to grab at Aria's shirt, but missed as the younger woman easily dodged out of the way. The curly-haired Siren stood tall, and calmly crossed her arms. "What, exactly, should I tell you, Aria? And what for?" she said, her voice still composed and refined; yet, somehow filled with resentment. "I don't owe you anything. You're just being a sour faced, whining, little ingrate, as usual. I've dragged you and Toothpaste Hair around forever, and you two are always glad to have me doing all the brain work. So, the way I see it, I don't have to start telling you anything about what I'm thinking or what I do. Now get out!" She moved to shove Aria toward the door.

The pigtailed girl squared her shoulders, and planted her feet firmly upon the floor, staving her sister off. Sonata, hearing the commotion, had long since rushed upstairs, and now stood in the doorway looking terrified.

Aria laughed, attempting to contain her own fury. "You're a real piece of work, you know that Adagio? A real piece of work. You carried us? You act so damn high and mighty, so indestructible all of the time, and everyone around you knows you're not. You're so fucking obsessed with saving face, and you'll fight for it even if everyone else around you has to pay the price! You're a selfish bitch, and you're a liar! It was you who led us to this end! Just like it's you who's hurting us now, and you don't even care. And yet, somehow we're the ones who're supposed to be grateful for having you?" Aria inched closer toward the seething siren leader. Her voice, though shaking, became dangerously low. "Here's some more fucking truth for you, Adagio, and it's high time you heard it. You used us. You forced us to follow you for almost two thousand years. You forced us to submit, and now you complain that we weren't independent enough? That we relied on you too much? After all these years of shooting us down in every way? Are you completely nuts? Wait a minute, don't answer that. You are."

Aria reached into her pocket, perhaps out of nervous habit, pulled a cigarette from the opened pack therein, and popped the unlit thing between her lips. Rolling her eyes she then looked at Adagio, now feeling renewed confidence. "Who's the one who even found you on that beach in the first place, huh, Adagio? Do you remember that?"

It was clear that Aria had crossed a line that should not have been crossed by the way Adagio's eyes went wide and red.

"Do you remember who finally gave you your awareness? Me. And what the fuck had you ever even done for yourself before that day except be a spoiled, rich, brat, and kill your grease stain of a duke husband because he was boring, huh? If it weren't for me, you'd probably still be out there, crying like a fucking newborn foal, on Equestrian sand, an unrealized, worthless outcast."

Sonata, predicting what was coming next, had already run to place herself in between the two girls just as Adagio lunged for Aria's throat. "You ungrateful little—!" the eldest siren screamed, hot tears streaking her cheeks.

Sonata pushed backward against Aria who was trying to move her out of the way. "Please, you two! Please stop!" the youngest girl pleaded with them.

They were both deafened to her supplication.

"Oh, she's had this beating coming for a long time," Aria hissed out of the corner of her mouth. "Let me go!"

"Aria, Adagio, you've got to stop! We're supposed to be past this, remember? Adagio, I'm the one that sent Aria up here. I'm sorry. I was just worried!"

"Because you're hiding that thing on your chest!" Aria hissed. "So, what is it, Adagio? And why can we sense it?"

It was at that moment that something occurred to the curly-haired woman, namely that she was far too tired for all of this. Also, being no fool, she had to relinquish the fact that Aria, having been raised and hardened amidst gobs of physical turmoil and pain, would surely have beat her to a pulp if given the chance. She stopped struggling. By and by, Aria and Sonata did the same, knowing by Adagio's current expression, that she was about to say something of importance.

Cocking a proud eyebrow, and fighting back the fresh tears that threatened to escape from the corners of her eyes, the eldest girl struggle with their words. She knew herself. She knew she could and would hurt Aria right now if she allowed herself to. She knew about Aria's sensitivities, and all the secret worrying she had done over the younger Siren's well-being. For a moment, sentimentality flashed across her face, only to be bested by an expression of defeat, as if she had lost a great battle within herself. Adagio Dazzle knew herself, indeed, and she knew that she could never allow herself to be bested in any way, especially in one so personal. Finding just enough resolve, she opened her mouth as if it pained her. "You think you're so much better than me, Aria? That you would have been so much better off without me. Like if you had the option of leaving me out there? You just hate to admit the fact that you needed me even more than I needed you, and that it's always been that way," Adagio croaked, taking a step backward, and lifting a finger to point accusingly at the other girl. "How quickly you forget what state I found you in on that beach. Yes, I did horrible things with my life before we found each other, but let's not pretend that your hooves weren't soiled either, Aria!" The self-gratifying smile she now wore suited her quite well.

"Don't you dare, Adagio," Aria cautioned her, shaking her head. Her fists drew up tight and pale.

The curly-haired girl covered her mouth to hide a spiteful laugh. "Aw, the big, bad Aria can dish it out, but can't take it, huh?" She placed her hands upon her hips. "Yet again, why am I not surprised? Let's talk about how you were out there on that beach, babbling to yourself..."

"Adagio..." Sonata pleaded as she pulled anxiously at her own fingers. She stared at Aria as the girl turned a horrible shade of raspberry red.

"...bruised and beaten out of your mind because of some lustful, washed up soldier. Let's talk about how you were so far gone, that you had started doing it to yourself!"

Hot tears began to streak down Aria's face as Adagio continued on. The eldest Siren walked straight up to her. Her voice came slowly and elegantly in that beguiling, black widowish way that only Adagio could manage.

"And you know what I think, Aria? I think, by that point, you liked it. You needed it. You didn't feel alive unless someone was making you bleed. I think you still feel that way, to be quite honest. I think that's why you stuck around. We both know you're not a stupid girl. I think you just needed me to treat you the way I do," Adagio murmured with a cocky grin upon her face. "Why don't you just admit it, Aria, and stop lying to yourself? You get off on pain and misery, and you're ashamed because you do. We all know it, don't we Sonata?"

Aria, her mind now lost in fury, lunged for Adagio whilst Sonata grabbed her torso, forcing her back. The pigtailed girl and her younger sister fell to the floor slightly short of their elder.

Adagio took a step backward, and stared down at the two struggling, screaming girls in disgust. "Pig," she spat before reaching up toward her pajama top, and undoing the button to reveal the neat, rectangle bandage that sat beneath it. "I've spent so much time explaining, thinking that you two would understand why I had to do the things that I did. Why I still do have to. Let's just face it. We're all selfish, and we're all monsters. That's just what we were bred to be." Gingerly, she peeled the edge of the bandage off, revealing the deep gouge that lay beneath it. "Do you think back when we were soaring across Equestria, when we were roaming across Europe, or even when we were singing for scraps down at Sammy's that this is what I wanted? For any of us? Do you really think that?"

At the sight of Adagio's wound, the two struggling girls on the floor went numb. Sonata sat up first, covering her mouth as she stared in disbelief. Aria popped back up to her feet, her eyes wide and wet, not sure what to say or do. The now broken cigarette still hung from her lips as she struggled with herself to decide whether she should grab Adagio and chant a healing incantation over her, or take the opportunity to scratch the hideous thing even deeper into her flesh.

"We were all hurt, but it seemed that only I could ignore retaliation in light of a bigger picture. One of justice, where we would get what we deserve. Our reward for all this bullshit we've been put through!" Adagio glanced down at the floor, taking a moment to compose herself. "None of what happened was any of my fault," she mumbled to herself, almost as if, for a split second, she had forgotten where she was. She then shivered where she stood before managing to meet the unreadable gazes of her peers. "Fine, so this one thing," she said, pointing to her chest, "This was my fault. I did this to myself, but I didn't mean to. I don't know what happened, I...," her voice trailed off. She cleared her throat. "And I don't know why you can still sense it. That is a surprise to me, as well, and I would like to know just as much as you do. But for now, all that I do know is... is what happened to me, and that I didn't imend for it to..."

The air was silent and very heavy between them all for a moment, until Aria, her face now streaked with fresh tears, took a step forward. She slowly reached her arm up and out. It appeared for a second that she wanted to gently touch Adagio's wound. Her arm shook as it then stretched backward then jettisoned forward, her hand coming back across Adagio's face hard. The strike left a red mark in its wake.

The pigtailed girl struggled for the correct words as Adagio turned her head to glare at her. The eldest siren's expression remained unmoved, totally unfazed.

"Adagio Dazzle," Aria barely managed to breathe, shakING her head from side to side. "You selfish bitch. Who's lying to themselves, now?"

There was a beat, a pause between them both before Adagio quickly swung her arm forward, and returned Aria's blow in kind. The eldest Siren's gaze never wavered. Indeed, she appeared as still as stone, her expression equally as cold. "Does that remind you of Swift, Aria? Does it remind you of those good old days, pegasus?" she hissed mercilessly, her red raspberry eyes sharp as daggers.

Aria's mettle finally imploded upon itself. Her entire being wilted like a blossom caught in the unrelenting brilliance of desert sun. Her lungs instinctively released a loud, defeated puff of air, and with it, the long destroyed cigarette fell from her lips to the ground. Something in her eyes went dead, and as she slowly turned to amble toward the door, her entire body began to shake. Disappearing around the corner and into the hallway, it took almost a minute before her bedroom door could be heard shutting.

Sonata stood her ground even though her eyes leaked tears for the pain her sisters had caused each other. She sniffed back a few, rubbed her arm self consciously, and gazed in defeat toward a far corner of the room.

Adagio, whose eyes had been trained on the empty doorway from which Aria had departed, then shifted her gaze toward the blue girl. Her expression still cold, she scrutinized the distraught underling. "And I suppose you resent me, too, " she muttered, her voice flat and emotionless. Sonata winced as the words stabbed into her like a blade. She cringed away her pain, and after a time, managed to muster up just enough energy to form a reply. "Adagio, we've always been right here beside you. If only you could see us," she said before stepping forward, and reaching out to squeeze her elder's hand, never once looking into her eyes. In one quick motion, she then leaned down to the level of Adagio's gash, and perhaps by habit, kissed and whispered an old, short, healing incantation against it. Plucking up the opened side of the bandage, Sonata gently adhered it back into place, then turned to take her leave. Slowly, she closed the door behind her without looking back, leaving Adagio Dazzle standing tired and shaking in the middle of her disheveled room.

The eldest Siren's gaze fell toward the floor, her mind reeling, jumping between knowledge of the pain she had just caused Aria and the single piece of mind blowing information that had been revealed over the course of the evening. After a moment, her brain decided to settle on the latter, the far more pliable of the two. Their magical bond—it was still intact. What could such a revelation possibly imply? Was this residual, like their immortality or their ability to perceive negative energy? Was this a symptom of two thousand years of enchanted biology simply taking its time to pass away? Or, did this mean that their powers, on some plane, in some way, still endured?

She couldn't help herself. She was a girl as driven and focused as the bullet of a sniper's rifle. Thus, her sisters very quickly faded to the background of her mind as she turned to face her desk, her thoughts now captivated by that one, single notion. Breath now coming quickly, she walked toward the workspace, slid open its bottom drawer, dug deep beneath the piles of papers and folders contained therein, and pulled out a small, ominously carved, antique, wooden box. Reaching into the hairband that she was always prone to wear, she pulled from it a tiny, golden key. With this item, she unlocked the box, and held her breath as the lid opened. There, lying on a worn, velvet bed, sat those ancient, ruby red shards of old, the evidence of her tragic downfall, the remnants of her shattered pendant.

The Little Lady - Hither

"And what of her schooling? Has she received proper training in all of the typical areas appropriate for a young filly of her stature?" the gold colored unicorn asked the two lavender unicorns seated before him.

"You have no reason to fear, My Lord. The child has been given the same rigorous upbringing as her natural born sisters in every possible way, education included," said the mare, seated to her husband's left. She reached up to proudly flip one of her many, long, silver curls behind her shoulder, and then leaned forward upon the courtyard table. A basket of salt licks sat upon the slab, and she bowed her head, using her magic to transport a fresh cube to sit before the golden unicorn. "Why, she speaks one of the traditional languages fluently already, and even knows a bit of the ancient tongue of the Canterlotian royal courts. She is also well versed in all of the poetry classics, and sewing, and dancing, and singing, and—"

"Yes, I have heard a rumor on the winds about the child's voice," the golden unicorn said, stroking his orange beard.

"If you ask me, servants gossip knows the fastest form of travel," the lavender stallion laughed, adjusting the plush, feathered cap that sat upon his crown. His wife nudged him in the ribs discreetly when she noticed that the golden unicorn did not seem amused by this.

"I do love a good song," their guest continued. "You know, there is a saying that quotes: 'A beautiful voice is the crowning jewel of any age'. Do you not agree?"

The pair before him nodded vigorously.

"My Lord has always had exquisite taste in the arts," the mare doted as she raised a hoof for a nearby servant to come pour more cider into the golden stallion's goblet. "I assure you that your intrigue is justified. Adagio's voice is like none other. We must admit that none of our other daughters have ever managed to match such sonic beauty."

"Intriguing, indeed," the golden one murmured, continuing the stroke of his beard. After a beat of silence, he pounded his hoof upon the table in finality, clearly having come to some great decision. "Very well, then. I shall arrange the meeting."

The lavender mare smiled, brightly. "Excellent decision, My Lord Goldenstalks. I can assure you it is one you shan't regret!"

"Very good. I trust she shan't disappoint then," Lord Goldenstalks murmured, taking one more sip from his goblet. "Well, then. Where is the young Miss? I should very much like to meet her before she is introduced to my son."

The smile on the lavender stallion's face wilted ever so slightly. "Yes, about that, My Lord," the stallion stammered. "I was hoping that I could speak with you more in depth about this matter. Do you not suppose that perhaps the children are a bit young to already be considering the pressures of marriage? Adagio is but a filly, after all."

Lord Goldenstalks began the steady stroking of his beard again. This time, his expression was unamused. "It isn't simply marriage, Glow," Goldenstalks began. "Upright is my only son and heir. I intend for him to be well provided for, and to provide for the Goldenstalks name for many years to come. This is a matter of finding a suitable match to strengthen and propogate the bloodline. Is it that you do not consider it an honor, then, for your daughter to be, at such a young age, weighed by the Goldenstalks family as one of great grace and fortitude, one well suited for this most important task?"

The expression on the lavender mare's face was one of absolute mortification. Vehemently pressing the bottoms of her hooves together, she forced a pained laugh. Passing a glare toward her husband, she then swatted coyly in the Earl's direction. "Oh, absolutely, My Lord. You must forgive the Baron. Surely, you can understand how difficult it is for a father to consider these types of things for such a beloved daughter as our Adagio. His heart simply has gotten the best of him when he should be using his head to consider such matters," the lavender mare said as she playfully tapped her husband on his shoulder. "We would be honored that you should want to meet our daughter. We shall send for her immediately. Would you please join us in the great hall?"

Ignoring the rather upset look on her husband's face, she turned to a nearby servant, nodding her head to signal for the young colt to approach. "Send for the Lady Adagio at once. Tell her she is expected in the great hall," she commanded. Turning again to face Goldenstalks, she rose out of her seat, performed a curt bow, and raised her foreleg in the direction of the courtyard entrance. "If you would follow me, My Lord."

____

The midday sun shone down brightly upon the waves in the distance. From where Adagio Dazzle stood upon her balcony, the rays appeared to sparkle off of the water like dancing diamonds. She smiled at the sight of it. Her eyes closed as she breathed in the salty sea air, trying to remember, with all of her might, the feeling of sand underhoof, the now foggy memory of floating upon the gentle tides.

She used to sneak down there often, usually in the middle of the night, just to be able to stand beneath the glorious moon, and sing out toward those rushing waters. Every time she would visit her beloved beach, she would step slowly through that foamy space between the sand and surf, and then dance in the spot where the Glow household servant, Beryl, had first found her.

Beryl, a young, apple green filly a few years Adagio's senior, had been the first to witness the filly's penetratingly beautiful voice as she sang to herself from where she dreamily lay upon the sand, seaweed tangled in her endless curls. Thinking her a pitiable survivor of some far off shipwreck at sea, Beryl had brought her back to the Glow estate where she had been put to bed rest. At first, she had lived amongst the servants, wandering about them like a little ghost, singing endlessly to herself. The poor thing lived in a daze, as if she were always trying her hardest to remember something of the utmost importance. For a time, many in the household had supposed she had gone mad. Regardless, the little filly seemed harmless, and her beautiful voice would help the work day to go by faster. Thus, they allowed her to stay, hidden amongst tall platters of food, and behind giant mountains of dirty linen, yet another faceless attendant of the Glow estate.

As the days turned to weeks, and weeks to months, gradually, Adagio's wandering consciousness planteded a small anchor on the world around her. She began to speak to others, even though for the most part, it was in the form of profoundly poetic verse. The other servants had even managed to get her to quietly tag along with them during their chores, washing small loads of clothing, or helping in minute ways with the cooking. However, though she followed along obediently, the others would have never guessed that in her heart, a small seed of resentment had begun to bud.

Having been born with a tender affection for the water, it was quickly made clear to Adagio that, in this world, others did not feel the same way. Those pure droplets were scrubbed and splashed coldly across the most soiled and filthy of fabrics, or thrown into a pot, and boiled until the liquid itself would scream. The ponies here built bridges to avoid the waters. They made walls to force them back. Of course, the little filly could not recall any other way of living that would have her react with such odd displeasure at these seemingly small and necessary offenses. Even still, there came a time when she had grown to be spiteful of the menial labors of the household servants. She didn't enjoy scratching and peeling her hooves in her beloved ocean. She hated the burns she would receive from the boiling pot. It seemed her world knew well how to take the most beautiful of elements, and turn it into something harsh and crude. She concluded, then, that her life would have as little to do with these types of degrading labors as possible. From then on, she was nowhere to be found when it was time to do the laundry, and quite often, her lovely songs could not be heard echoing in the kitchen at supper time. Many would wonder where, exactly, she would run off to.

Then one day, whilst strolling through the garden, the Baron Glow, himself, had heard her melancholy song upon the gentle breeze. After a time of following the trail of the voice, he had found little Adagio sitting by herself, staring into one of the estate's fountains. She was touching the surface of the water as if contemplating her own reflection. Asking after her name, and where she had come from, he was met with a look of startled confusion, and then the most mysterious of replies.

Never before had I walked upon stones,
And I had wondered what it was like.
But now that I have,
I find that my long lost fin sparkling like jewels,
Is the only thought that seems to captivate me.

The two stared at each other in utter confusion for a moment, the Baron stuck between a place of astonishment and good humor. Suddenly, he began to laugh, straightening the wreath that sat atop his head as it jostled about. Wiping away a tear, he approached the young filly, and patted her head. After a few more questions, he was able to discover her name, who had found her, and where.

It didn't take long to adjust into the Glow household, especially for one as naturally charming, talented, and intelligent as the little, yellow filly. It could be expected that the two daughters of the Baron, Moonstone and Violet, would be ecstatic about the sudden arrival of a new sister to play with, and as time went on, Adagio's sing song speech turned into the familiar chattering of a normal child. As for Starry, the Baron's wife, being the noble opportunist she was, she couldn't resist taking in a filly child so promising and seemingly worthy of wellborn company as Adagio. She had only bore daughters, after all, and had long ago concluded that the family's upward mobility must be directly tied to how enticing she could make any one of them appear to the sons of other noble families. To her, Adagio and her sublime voice was a sure promise of future power and prestige.

As the family, for their various reasons, spoiled the child with gifts of fine clothing and jewels, elegant rooms, lavish meals, and the most proper of upbringings, by and by, little Adagio would turn away from that constant song of the sea echoing day and night in her head. Warm sands would be forgotten for gems that matched the color of her eyes. The cool waves would grow distant in her mind whenever she caught sight of the fashionably dressed lords and ladies of the unicorn royal court. Her dreams, once brimming with deep blues, now transformed into glitter and gold, and after a time, it was all she could think about to try her best to one day fulfill her new dream—a dream of living an elegant life of beauty, pleasantry, and power, free of the harsh, menial labors that she had grown to disfavor.

Still, every now and then, usually during quiet moments like this, Adagio would hear the sea whispering her name ever so softly. It would call to her from beyond her chamber window. It would beckon her out until she could see it, and remember it for its old, natural glory. Standing there upon her balcony, she felt a forlorn type of affection for that which was now, literally and figuratively, below her. It had been a long time since she had gone down to talk with the waves, splashing about in the foam while the servants stood nearby washing the household laundry. Some of them were down there right now, taking moments between the soaking and scrubbing to relax upon the shore, smiling, holding hooves, feeling, loving, carefree.

As she stared down at them, Adagio's expression became rather somber. With a sigh, she then turned to face the interior of her chamber, and walked back inside. It was a difficult thing to accept, indeed, especially since no one had expressly forbidden her from visiting the beach. Regardless, it was an unspoken rule that none of the ladies of her household ever walked and mingled for too long amongst the servants and commoners. Adagio was not eager to seem out of sorts, or to give the impression to any of her family, especially her mother, that she might not be fit for the life of a true noble lady. She loved this comfortable existence. She wanted more of it. Thus, if her sisters were comely, she would have to be enchanting. If her sisters were cultured, she would have to be refined. To her, there was no room for mistakes, not if she was to obtain the kind of things that she now desired for herself.

Moving to sit in front of her vanity table, Adagio peered into the bronze mirror before her, and straightened out the curls that had been ruffled by the ocean breeze. Catching sight of a large, polished sea shell that sat in the corner of the table, she smiled to herself. When the Glow family had moved her into their home as a permanent resident, Beryl, who was now appointed Adagio's personal maidservant, had gifted it to her, for memory's sake. Every now and then, the filly would bring her more seashells that she had found upon the shore, but none had ever been as beautiful as the first. It was a treasure that, especially now, Adagio adored. However, her self-imposed edicts of nobility and grace made her ashamed to outwardly show just how much she had appreciated the lovely thing.

Just as she reached one hoof out to touch the shell, she heard a loud knock on her door, and before she could bid the intruder to enter, in bounded a small, deep lavender-colored, violet-maned filly. She appeared to be slightly younger in age than Adagio was. Quickly, the curly-maned filly shifted her hoof away from the seashell to snatch up a nearby comb instead. She used her magic to levitate the thing off of her hoof, and began to work it through her strands as she watched the younger filly bounce about the room.

"Gio, Gio, Gio! May I comb your mane if I let you comb my mane? Will you let me choose your robe? May I wear one of your robes as well? Mother only allows me to wear white ones!" the filly spouted. Adagio knew better than to try to get a word in before the other child was good and ready. So, she resigned herself to sitting there, combing her mane, and wearing a perturbed smirk.

"Moonstone, I don't wish to play costumes with you right now. Besides, you have no idea how to do my mane properly. You'll just ruin it, as usual," Adagio huffed when finally given a chance. Hopping off of her chair, she headed toward her bed.

Moonstone pouted at her words. "But I must comb your mane! You have to be pretty for your audience!"

Adagio froze, and slowly turned to face her sister. "Audience?" she inquired. "You mean with—"

"Lord Goldenstalks!" Moonstone exclaimed, hopping up and down some more.

The bottom dropped out of Adagio's stomach. She lacked as much interest in Lord Goldenstalks' notoriously grim son as just about any of the other young fillies that knew of him. However, despite her beingbeing young, Adagio was no fool. She knew that the Goldenstalks name carried much power and clout, and this was certainly no opportunity to be missed or floundered if she was planning to obtain a comfortable and well-to-do living for herself. A boring future husband seemed a tolerable offense from where she stood on this matter.

"W-why does Lord Goldenstalks want an audience now? Mother and Father are supposed to be speaking with him! He smells like stale apples! Why do I have to go?"

The younger filly shot her an exasperated look. "Why does any smelly, old lord ever wish to have an audience with you? So, that you can sing, and dance, and prance about doing your jester tricks for them, of course," she moaned with a roll of her eyes. "I still think you should learn how to juggle."

A panicked squeal escaped the curly-maned filly as she ran toward her vanity table again, scrambled her way back onto her chair, and began to comb her mane in a crazed frenzy. "Why wasn't I warned about this! My mane! My mane looks like fuzzy cheese!" she cried before turning to face Moonstone, looking determined. "Moonstone, fetch the shears!"

"Yes!" the lavender filly exclaimed in delight at the expectation of the inevitable makeover to end all makeovers. No sooner had her little legs begun to rush toward the door, did yet another knock come from its other side.

"Who's there?" Adagio screamed hysterically. When Beryl rushed in with a look of mixed joy and excitement upon her face, it didn't seem to calm the yellow filly's nerves at all. Instead, her comb tangled in her mane, and she fell out of her chair onto the floor. Turned to face the apple green filly, she screamed in a panic.

At the sight of her young mistress on the ground, Beryl let out a squeal of her own. Riled up by all the excitement in the room, Moonstone looked from one filly to the other, and then she too joyously joined in the screaming, bouncing up and down where she stood.

___

"Beryl, what of my mane? Are you sure you've fixed it?"

"Yes, M'Lady. The woven jewels look stunning on you."

"And what of my robe? Are you certain this color is appropriate?"

"It matches your beautiful eyes. It truly is lovely."

"Very well. Beryl... some water. Quickly," Adagio murmured whilst standing tall just beyond the closed doorway to the great hall.

"Yes, Mum," Beryl replied softly. Performing a quick bow, she then turned to rush away.

Adagio could make out the chattering and soft laughter of her parents and the Earl Goldenstalks coming from within the chamber. The sound made her brood; not because she happened to be nervous, but because the tremendous pressure of being perfect during important times like these weighed down heavily upon her. She couldn't help but be succinct with her words.

Beryl returned a few moments later with a silver bowl and pitcher of water in tow. Setting the bowl down to the side of the doorway, she poured some water out for her young mistress, and then took a step backward to give her some room.

Adagio approached calmly, bowed her head, and took a few sips. The liquid was refreshing, almost renewing. As she raised her head, she took a deep breath, and allowed her eyes to close.

The song—the song was always the most important part of these meetings. By now, the little filly had realized that, depending on what she sang for a visitor, she could open herself up to their favor in a myriad of different ways. Was it joy she wished to evoke today? Awe? Perhaps just charm would be enough. As these possibilities rolled around in her mind, shifting her psyche through a catalog of songs that she could not recall the origin of, she then reached up toward her chest, and scratched the spot where a dark birthmark had now begun to itch.

To Beryl, this appeared to be a nervous reaction. The slightly older filly resolved herself to comforting her little mistress. "You know, he will love you just like all the others," she murmured, refilling the silver water bowl.

"Mhm," Adagio replied, never opening her eyes to regard the maidservant.

"I really and truly don't think you have anything to fear, M'L—"

"Beryl, this is none of your concern! Do be quiet!" the little filly finally turned to yell, her raspberry eyes piercing.

Shaken, the apple green filly said nothing, but simply bowed low to the ground, backing away slowly.

Watching her until she was a good distance away, Adagio huffed once more, and returned to her meditation. A few moments later, her eyes opened again, calm and collected. She took a deep breath, swished her tail just in case there were any curls out of place, and silently beckoned Beryl forward to come open the door.

Adagio Dazzle glided across the floor in her robe as if she were floating. She walked quickly toward the opposite side of the room where her audience sat at a small table set with refreshments.

At once, her mother, Starry, stood up. There was nothing but satisfaction on her face. Once again, her daughter, Adagio, had shown that she knew how to delight the eyes. "Ah! Our radiant daughter approaches. And how are you feeling today, my dear?" she tittered.

Adagio bowed respectfully in her parents' direction. "The day finds me well, Mother, Father," Adagio murmured in a subdued voice. Keeping her eyes directed toward the floor, she then turned her body toward Lord Goldenstalks, and awaited their introduction.

"It is with the greatest of pleasure, My Lord, that we introduce to you our beloved daughter, Miss Adagio Dazzle Glow," Starry said beckoning for the filly to come closer.

Adagio took a few steps forward, and performed a low, graceful bow before Goldenstalks. It was then, and only then that her eyes lifted to meet his. "It is an honor to make your acquaintance, My Lord," she said gently.

Adagio's grace and astonishing penchant for conversation at such a young age would usually captivate those who were introduced to her, making them easier to read. However, Goldenstalks seemed to be of a rather reserved sort. The most she could pull out of him was an intrigued stare as the stallion stroked his hoof against his thick, orange beard. For safe measure, the yellow filly directed her gaze toward the floor, again feigning reservation.

"Surely, when your mother and father described you to me, they should not have forgotten to mention such an important point of consideration," the Earl stated, every emotional inflection of his voice well hidden.

Adagio's eyes covertly darted toward her mother, whose eyes then darted toward the Earl. The mare appeared on the verge of panic.

Adagio quickly spoke up. "What might that be, My Lord?"

"That you are surely the most charming, and well-spoken of fillies I have had audience with to date. What an absolute delight she is to behold!" Lord Goldenstalks exclaimed, turning to the Baron and his wife, and smiling brightly.

Starry let out a great laugh of relief, clapping her hooves together, and nodding in a way that reminded Adagio of a puppet. "A delight indeed!" the mare exclaimed turning to glance at her husband who sat on her opposite side. The Baron was looking rather bored and averse to the entire situation. "Adagio, Lord Goldenstalks is a great lover of music. Perhaps you might sing a song for him," she urged her daughter, her head still bobbing up and down.

Adagio barely managed to hide a smirk of disdain. She knew her mother well, and her actions annoyed her greatly. Even one as young as she could see that the mare was too eager, too hungry. It was unbecoming. Still, she had to admit that her methods were justifiably sound. Goldenstalks was clearly sniffing around the hook. Perhaps it was time to use stronger bait. "I would be honored, My Lord," the filly murmured, performing another low bow, and then taking a few steps backward.

Closing her eyes, she straightened her posture, and relaxed her shoulders. Taking a deep breath, she allowed the aura of the room to wash over her. She accounted for the sweet smell of incenses, and the savory aroma of the food-laden table. All of these things were of the utmost importance to consider when choosing a song. Though too young to completely comprehend the intricacies of the senses, Adagio was at least clear on the notion that atmosphere could be used to her own devices. Sight mattered, scent mattered, and today, sound would matter most of all.

Though most ponies of any race were hard headed, refusing to hear the messages their world beat endlessly against their skulls, Adagio was one of the few who could listen, interpret, and translate. She could enhance. She could manipulate, and while she may not have perfected the art as yet, she at least knew that she was well on her way.

When a warm, sweet feeling filled her chest, she opened her eyes and smiled, knowing she was ready.

A blossom blooms and stays but shortly,
Quickly doth its petals fall.
Better to spy the morning glories,
Than to ne'er have seen them.

Adagio watched the Earl closely, barely able to contain a smile of vindication as she observed his eyes going glassy, his pupils dilating. The ever-moving hoof that constantly stroked his beard came to a slow halt, hiding his mouth in an attempt to deny his hosts the satisfaction of knowing his true feelings.

Friends, dear friends, we gather together,
All for fear of our final farewell.
Though rosy and radiant but for a time,
We live eternal in the hearts we knew well.

Little by little, as she sang, the Earl leaned forward in his seat, unable to hide his enthrallment any longer. His jaw hung open ever so slightly, and his hooves pressed together in some poor, subconscious attempt to feign composure. Adagio glanced into his eyes again, almost as if she could draw his mind outside of his very flesh with her beautiful, raspberry gaze. Perhaps it was truth. For, as the warmth in that spot on her chest burst and overflow, and a new ending verse erupted freshly from the depths of her mind, she watched as the Earl nearly fell out of his seat.

Let us toast to our immortalizing spell.

The room was silent as the remnants of the filly's ethereal song faded from the room, almost as if what was left could be lapped up out of the very atmosphere itself. All three of the adults in the hall sat stunned in different ways. Starry was perched on the edge of her seat, hooves pressed together tightly, breath belabored. She stared wide-eyed at her daughter as if she had suddenly transformed into something far grander, far greater than a mere flesh and bones unicorn.

The Baron leaned off to the side in his chair, eyes also wide, but filled with a fearful type of apprehension as he failed to comprehend how such maturity, such knowledge of manipulation could be wielded by his own, beloved little daughter. His shaking hoof could not cover his silently quivering mouth.

Lord Goldenstalks, the enamored expression never having left his face, tilted his head toward his side. He levitated a nearby goblet filled to the brim with strong cider until it floated in the space just to the side of his own lips. His mouth stuttered uselessly for a moment before he found his words again. "Let... Let us toast our immortalizing spell," he croaked before taking a long, long sip.

At this moment, Adagio bowed low again, and stayed bowed, moving her gaze toward the floor.

"Here, here," Starry exhaled levitating her own goblet. The Baron could not manage any words, but still followed suit with the others.

At the sound of the third goblet being drained, Adagio rose up one last time. She knew that one of the most important parts of any good sale was to always leave the ponies wanting more. "It is an honor, My Lord. Now, if you would excuse me," she murmured before turning to take her leave.

She smiled when she heard the Earl's chair shift out of place as he stood in a show of respect.

___

The Glow clan entered the great hall later on that evening, and took their seats at the massive table topped with numerous delicious delights. Chairs were pushed in, goblets filled by household servants, and dishes offered up. No one spoke or ate until the Baron took his first bite. Afterward, the gathering fell into a more casual air.

Naturally, the hot topic of discussion that evening was the immediately arranged meeting between little Adagio and Upright, the Earl Goldenstalks' only son and heir whom was almost twice her age. As was customary, the younger in age one was, the less one spoke in matters as important and intriguing as this. Thus, Adagio resigned herself to mostly staying quiet that evening, paying attention to the course of the conversation.

"I hear the colt is of a rather dour sort, you know," the Baron stated while prodding at a mysterious brown lump upon his plate. He then levitated it toward his mouth.

"Oh, don't be silly, Dear. I'm sure the young Viscount is an absolute delight," Starry interjected as she busied herself with helping Moonstone levitate her meal toward her mouth without making a mess. "He's extremely intelligent, as well. Quite the diplomatic strategist in the making, I hear."

Violet, a lovely teenaged pony of the same color as her name, had been sitting and eating in reverent silence, as daintily as one could expect, until she heard her mother make this statement. At once, she gave a single, delicate, and very deliberate laugh, cocking one of her brows. The entire table glanced at her in surprise since it was rather rare for Violet to speak up in the presence of elders or those of higher rank. She was, after all, ever the obedient noble lady unicorn, and nowadays, her mother's pride and joy.

Adagio huffed as she stared daggers into the side of Violet's face. She then levitated some food toward her mouth, and took a big, angry bite. Though she loved both of her sisters dearly, Adagio had recently acquired a fresh contempt for her eldest sibling. Despite lacking the radiant beauty of the midday sun like the kind that Adagio possessed, Violet instead managed to retain an opposing, but equally striking elegance. Her lovely fur, contrasted against her long, shiny, snow white mane, gave her a mysterious and genteel allure reminiscent of a gorgeous full moon. It was a quality that the younger child envied, especially considering her elder sister's most recent "accomplishments". For, as if to add insult to injury—without having any particularly striking talent that stood out besides her scholarly mind and occasionally witty conversation—Violet had, not long ago, managed to attract the attentions of Lord Vision's son, the heir to his father's dukedom. This dukedom lay about three days travel to the West, very close to Canterlot. Therefore, upon their betrothal, and Violet's increased proximity to the Canterlotian throne, she suddenly, but expectantly, became the new apple of her mother's eye. She had now become the basket into which the mare placedd more and more of her eggs each and every day.

Before their betrothal, Adagio had been Starry's sure bet to notoriety. The filly was sure that had she been presented to the court much earlier in age, perhaps she would be the one to be affianced to a duke's son, enjoying all the comforts that came along with such prestige. Instead, she would be settled for a notoriously boring viscount, son of Earl Goldenstalks, whose lands, filled with small, dirty towns and vast, untamed countryside, lay farther away to the South. It was all Adagio could do to thank her lucky stars that at least the Earl and his son carried that oh, so important Goldenstalks name with them. She knew she would be fortunate, indeed, if one day she might at least be able to do the same.

Violet finished chewing on a small mouthful of food. She daintily levitated her cloth napkin toward her lips before speaking. "Lord Vision says that Upright Goldenstalks is a hermitish bore. How could he aspire to be a diplomat when he never leaves his room?" she put forward.

Moonstone began to snicker under her breath at this very brash comment. Adagio very blatantly kicked her beneath the table, passing an annoyed glare her way.

"Fillies!" Starry scolded, waiting for both of them to be silent, and turn back toward their meals. Facing her eldest daughter once again, she offered a warm smile. "Now, Violet, I'm sure that Lord Goldenstalks' son would have just as many criticisms about your betrothed as well. Perhaps he and the young Lord Vision simply do not mesh."

Violet remained unmoved.

"Does Lord Vision have any brothers that like singing?" Moonstone posed to her eldest sister, shooting a cheeky grin in Adagio's direction.

"That he does," Violet replied, winking at both of her younger siblings.

The sole, curly maned unicorn at the table prodded her younger sister with a hoof, and tossed a stray pea into her lap. Moonstone returned fire, and soon, all out war had been declared beneath the table.

"We are not talking about Duke Vision's sons. We are talking about Upright Goldenstalks," Starry said, bidding caution to her eldest daughter.

"Oh, Mother," Violet sighed, dropping her uneaten bite of food back onto the plate. She barely managed to hide the roll of her eyes beneath her long waves of white mane. "It just doesn't seem fair that a filly with such a heart and talent for song should be settled with that... that little..."

Adagio's cheeks turned red, and she stared down at her plate in distress. On the one hoof, Violet was right, of course. Everypony knew that Upright Goldenstalks was rather strange and reclusive. Time and again, she had to agree that she would not have chosen such a match for herself if she were free to do such a thing. However, the sight of Violet criticizing the gains of her own hard work and good fortunes only worked to fill her with even more bitterness. She moved to stand in her chair, and yell at her elder sister. The white-maned pony hadn't said much, but as far as Adagio was concerned, it was high time she shut up.

Before she could get any words out, Starry bolted upwards, and slammed her front hooves hard against the table. "Silence!" she cried, her voice echoing throughout the entire hall. Things became deathly quiet as she, again, took her seat. No one dared say a word, but the look upon everypony's faces spokeoke volumes. "What is done is done," she said very seriously, looking around the table. "If the Earl's family will have Adagio, then so shall it be. I would suggest, young lady, that you learn to contain your tongue against your superiors!"

Violet gazeded silently into her plate, a resentful look upon her face. Having now lost her appetite, she didn't touch her meal again for the evening. Adagio's eyes had glazed over, almost as if she were imagining she were somewhere else entirely. Moonstone simply stared around the table, afraid to make a peep.

The only pony who had been eating their supper, seemingly unperturbed by all this "mare's businesses," was the Baron. With one quick levitation spell, he finished off the last bite of his meal. Hastily, he looked about the table, forcing a very fake smile. "Well, I must thank you all for yet another wonderful family gathering. Until next!" With that, he stood up, and trotted away from the table, leaving the four mares to sit in silence.

Later that evening, Adagio Dazzle sat alone in her chambers, curled up in her bed. The day had been exhausting, and she was quite happy for it to be done with. The sun had not yet set, and as she lay there, her eyes drifted lazily toward the beautiful wisps of orange and pink that peeked in from beyond her balcony windows. Never expecting a soft knock upon her door, she gasped and sat up in her bed. "Enter," she bid whoever it was, and watched as the door opened slowly to reveal Moonstone and Beryl peeking around its frame.

"M'lady, we've brought you something. Perhaps it might cheer you up," Beryl murmured, as she picked a wrapped object off of the floor with her teeth, and carefully entered the room after Moonstone. She closed the door behind her, and approached Adagio's bed. Then, placing the wrapped object down, she undid the knot to reveal a stunning, auger seashell.

Adagio glanced at both of the fillies, afraid to react too soon.

"We both picked it out together, isn't that right, Miss Moonstone?" Beryl said with a smile, turning toward the smaller filly.

"It reminded us of a unicorn's horn," Moonstone giggled, hopping up onto the bed with her sister, and nuzzling her closely. "Sorry Mother is so awful."

Adagio accepted the nuzzle, and then turned to face them both. Eventually, she managed to smile. "It's lovely," she said to them. "I'll add it to my collection."

"That's good," Moonstone replied, trying to hide her happiness at having done a good job. A sly smile then spread across her face. "Gio? C... Can I style your mane, now? Pleeeease?"

Adagio sighed, and rolled her eyes, doing her best to hide a mischievous grin of her own. "Moonstone, I've told you a thousand times that you'd just ruin it," she stated, waiting just long enough for a the younger filly to look disappointed. "But... I suppose I can let you this one time."

"Really?" Moonstone yelled, jumping to her hooves.

Adagio paused a moment. "That is, if you can catch me!" Stansing up, she bounded off the bed, and began to run around the room. Moonstone followed close behind while Beryl took a seat on the floor, giggling at them both.

Author's Note

Here are the instrumentals to Adagio's song this chapter:
'Our Immortalizing Spell (Adagio's Theme)'

The Little Lady - Yon

Adagio's exceptional performance during Lord Goldenstalks' visit guaranteed that the arranged meeting between Upright and herself would happen sooner rather than later. However, no one, including Adagio herself, could have predicted that the Earl would have sent for her so soon. Exactly three days after his departure, a message was delivered by unicorn magic to the Glow household, summoning Adagio Dazzle and her parents to the Goldenstalks estate at her earliest possible convenience. Naturally, Starry insisted that they get a move on with it before the Earl changed his mind. Therefore, within another two days, she, the Baron, and Adagio had packed up all the necessary trappings and comforts of home—trusted servants included—and headed out by drawn carriage toward the Earl's large manor which was situated near a small, but bustling town called Greenwaters.

Riding through Greenwaters was a bit of an eye-opening experience for Adagio, who had never before passed through a town to see exactly how the commoners—mostly consisting of earth ponies—got along in their day-to-day activities. Everywhere she looked, she spied something she had never witnessed. There were ponies toting heavy carts around, and tossing buckets of waste out of windows. There were ponies laughing, yelling, and dealing their odds and ends in the streets. One pretty mare, spotting the Glow family's carriage train, had even trotted up to the side of her buggy to pass Adagio one of the lovely flowers she had been selling by the side of the road. The filly gave her a small smile, and waved. Smelling the blossom's pleasant fragrance, Adagio enjoyed how the scent mingled with the aromas of fresh baked breads, perfumes, rubbish, sweat, and all the other interesting odors that trademarked vivacious pony life.

"Beautiful day, don't you think so, Dear?" the Baron said to Starry, nudging her shoulder gently.

Though she was not the one being addressed, Adagio turned toward her father, and smiled, glad to see that somepony else in the carriage also acknowledged the uplifting energy of their surroundings. She was about to nod in agreement when she heard her mother scoff.

The mare gave an eager roll of her silver eyes. "It is so dreadfully hot. 'Tis a miracle that I haven't fainted away as yet. And that ghastly stench...!" Starry exclaimed as she held a finely embroidered kerchief up to her nose. Adagio frowned, quite unsurprised that her mother would not understand such a uniquely curious experience as this.

"That is the stench of life, my dear," the Baron chuckled, giving his wife an all too eager tap on the shoulder that made her wince. He winked in Adagio's direction.

Feeling redeemed, Adagio smiled, and held the flower up for her parents to see. "Mother, Father, look what that pretty mare has given me! Isn't it lovely?" she asked.

Unexpectedly, her mother snatched the delicate thing up in her magic, placed it into her kerchief, and crushed it to bits before shoving the cloth against her nose. "Oh, thank goodness. This does help a little bit," she sighed in relief while Adagio gawked at her, enraged. Turning to finally catch her daughter's gaze, the mare gave her a supplicating tap on the top of her head. "Oh, come now, dear. There shall be mountains and mountains of flowers just for you when we arrive at the Earl's manor. I'm sure of it."

They were now passing through the very heart of Greenwaters, specifically the town square where the townsponies would set up their marketplace each and every day. Adagio had never seen so many common ponies up so close before. The only times she had witnessed this type of crowd was as a backdrop to public affairs of the Canterlotian court. It was implied—usually by the adults of her stature—that ponies like these were to be ignored, tolerated as a necessary nuisance, at best. However, looking at them now as she rode amongst them, Adagio couldn't help but feel more joyful, more alive.

She spied a sizeable crowd at the edge of the marketplace hovering around a stack of boxes on top of which stood a small, quaintly dressed, blue filly. The ponies standing around the filly were saying something that she could not quite make out. Finding the sight rather strange, Adagio leaned out of the carriage to get a better look. As they passed the crowd, she realized that the ponies were not talking, they were chanting, singing! Many of them had even begun to dance merrily, a type of dancing she had never seen. It was energetic, elated, full of all the exciting things that the traditional court dances lackeded.

Looking again at the small blue filly wearing a big, straw sunhat, she realized that the child was also singing. In fact, she had been leading the enchanting tune as she danced about on top of her box. Ponies cheered all about her. The melody was beautiful, bubbly, and the sound carried clear across the square. Even those who had not joined the crowd still tapped their hooves, and hummed along as they tended to their own businesses. Adagio stood up in her seat, and began to giggle. Something about the scene, the crowds, and the child was enticing to her. Something about it seemed more free, more honest. If she were allowed to choose how she might perform for others, it wouldn't be in private, for hopes of sealing a marriage contract. It would be something more like this, so that others might admire her, and enjoy the soul of every song that they heard just as much as she did.

"Look, Father! Look at that filly!" Adagio exclaimed, leaning out over the edge of the carriage to gesture in the crowd's direction.

Her father turned, looked toward where she had been motioning, and smiled. "Well, isn't that something, now? Why I'd say that little one has a voice almost as lovely as yours! Why don't we have a stop to get a closer look, hm?" he posed.

Adagio gasped, barely able to contain her myriad of emotions. Walk amongst the commoners? But they were destitute and dirty! They smelled! Their hooves weren't even manicured! Still, glancing at the blue filly again, she couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to meet somepony who enjoyed song as much as she did, somepony whose voice might even contribute to something of a lovely duet if they, by some rare chance, were to sing together. Adagio eagerly licked her lips, not sure of what her answer might be when she next opened her mouth. The filly's song was so enticing. Perhaps, just this one time, she could allow herself to...

"My Lord!" Starry exclaimed, swatting her kerchief against the Baron's shoulder. "Stop putting these ridiculous ideas into the child's head. Mingle with commoners—and what's more, earth ponies? Do you realize what an utter fiasco that would create? No, my dear, I think it best that we stay in our place, and they stay in theirs. That is the proper order of things."

Adagio's entire expression collapsed. She glanced at her father who looked at her, and sighed. He shook his head apologetically, and then turned to face the road. Eventually, Adagio lowered herself back into her seat, and did the same. The path ahead was now nearing a curve as it came to the edge of town. Beyond the curve, atop of a hill in the distance a large, grey stoned castle bore down upon the small town like an ancient and oppressive patriarch.

"There it is, Dear!" Starry exclaimed, nudging her daughter. "Aren't you excited?"

Adagio's face contorted into a hesitant grimace as she stared at the estate's many off-putting sharp edges and pointy spires. It didn't seem like a place that might ever be enjoyable for a filly such as herself to visit, much less live. However, as they exited the town, and entered the Earl's woods, Adagio resolved herself to her edict once more. This manor, as dreary as it might have appeared to be from its exterior, would be sure to provide her with all of the comforts and luxuries that she needed in order to stay safely away from that harsh, cruel, crude... lively... exciting... cornucopia of life outside of the world of nobles. This is what she had wanted, wasn't it?

___

There was an expected hubbub and commotion that took place as their carriages were opened and unpacked after stopping just inside the manor gates. Adagio had figured that gossip about her had gotten around the manor by the way the entire huddle of servants stopped and applauded her as soon as she was helped out of her seat. By the time she stepped onto the cobblestones, she was feeling, again, like the important, young, noble lady that she was. She smiled graciously, and performed a curt, half-hearted bow before following her parents up the walkway toward the manor's gaping front doors.

The Earl was eagerly awaiting them at the end of a long, red carpeted hallway that led into the belly of the estate. Standing next to him was what appeared to be a rather waifish, anxious-looking, orange, earth mare. Her nervous smile could not hide the gauntness of her visage.

When both stallions finally stood face to face, they patted each other on the back like old friends. The Earl kissed Starry's and Adagio's hooves before gesturing to the orange mare at his side. "May I introduced my dear wife, Ginger," the Earl said, taking the mare's hoof in his own, and guiding her forward. Ginger's nervous smile grew wider.

"My Lady," Baron Glow murmured, bowing low to kiss her hoof.

"P-pleasure. I-I-I'm sure," she stuttered before nodding her head toward Starry and her daughter. "What a b-beautiful family y-you have, Baron Glow."

During moments like these, Adagio appreciated the rather mischievous nature of her father. It was sweet vindication for both of them to see the look on Starry's face when she had realized that the Countess Goldenstalks was an earth pony. And at the sound of the Countess' voice, the little filly and the Baron knowingly sharing an inward chuckle at her expense.

Their glee was short lived as the Earl was quite intent on whisking them away further into the estate. "Come, come! We have much to discuss!" he exclaimed, turning about, and heading toward what appeared to be the grand hall. "News of Miss Adagio has very much caused quite a stir in the household, as you can see," he chuckled to himself as servants bustled about them happily pouring drinks, and laying out sweets upon the great hall's table. "I think you were right, Glow. I suppose servant's gossip does know the fastest form of travel." He slapped the Baron on the back, making the stallion's uncertain laugh turn into a sharp cough. "Now, how about we get down to business, eh? Before the papers are signed and whatnot."

"Yes! Let's!" Starry piped up, once again, far too hungry.

Before turning away toward the table where, along with refreshments, pen, ink, and parchment awaited, Goldenstalks turned to face Adagio, smiling warmly. "Miss Adagio, perhaps you might like a tour of our gardens for the time being, yes?" he asked.

Adagio was relieved to hear him make such a suggestion. She couldn't fathom how mortifying an experience it might have been to have to sit and watch all of these awkwardly aggravating adults hashing out the terms of her sale. "Yes, My Lord. I would like that very much, indeed," she replied.

Motioning forward a young maidservant, a magenta mare, Goldenstalks directed her out toward the garden gate. "Lila shall show you the way," he said. Turning back toward the others, he urged them forward toward the table.

"Follow me please, M'Lady," Lila murmured to the little filly with a bow before heading toward the garden doors. Adagio followed close behind.

_____

How terribly boring, Adagio thought as she wandered about the immense garden paths, following a few paces behind the magenta mare. She should have known better. How long could she really expect flowers to captivate her attention? It wasn't that they were ugly. They were, in fact, quite lovely, especially during this warm time of year, but none of the blossoms had been anything different than what she had already seen back at home. There were just way more of them here. Still, she had grown tired of pretending to be enthralled as Lila, the servant who tended the gardens, explained the differences between red and white lavender, or harped on about the poisonous properties of buttercups. Thus, when the mare's back was turned, the little yellow filly took the opportunity to sneak away. At least the tall hedges were good for getting lost for a time. She giggled to herself, imagining how panicked Lila must have felt when she turned around to see no one there. Even now, she could hear the mare calling her name, worry in her voice.

Adagio began to run, ducking behind shrubbery, and darting down pebble-paved pathways. After a time, she lost track of exactly where she was. The only thing that was clear to her was the fact that the hedges appeared to be growing larger, more thick, the deeper she went into the garden. Finally, when she could no longer hear Lila's call, she stopped to catch her breath. Glancing backward, she noticed that only the tips of the castle spires could be seen this far away behind all this wild greenery. Flipping her mane triumphantly, she trotted away. She glanced around at the tall trees that now blended in with the rugged flower bushes, as well as the untended pathway that lay before her. Shortly after, she came upon an old fountain, and approached it to peer into the water.

Ripples danced across the surface of the water as she touched it, and as usual, the liquid felt cool and refreshing on her skin. She wondered if anypony might catch her if she were to dangle her hind hooves in the fountain to cool off for just a moment. Looking around, and seeing no one there, she quickly hoisted up her thick, raspberry-colored robes, stood onto her two hind legs, and carefully moved to step into the water.

"You there! What are you doing?" came a deep, commanding voice from somewhere in the distance.

Startled, Adagio stumbled backward on her hind legs, and fell hard against the ground. Eyes darting about, scared that she had been caught by a guard or, worse yet, the Earl himself, she rushed to her hooves, and bowed low, too afraid to look whoever it was in the eye. "My apologies! I'd gotten lost, and—" she stammered before the sound of a young voice laughing echoed throughout the clearing. Looking up in confusion, she spotted before her a colt, about her age, with white fur and a brown mane. He appeared to be incredibly tickled at the sight of her distress, seeing as how he was chortling in such a grating manner that he nearly lost his balance and fell over.

Adagio frowned, now extremely perturbed that somepony else dared get a laugh at her expense. Bounding up quickly to face the colt, she poked him in the chest. "How dare you? Do you know what could have happened? Do you know I could have gotten my robes all wet or ripped? What would I have done then?" she yelled.

The colt, startled by her reaction, took a few steps backward. "I didn't mean to scare you... Well, I did mean to scare you, but I didn't mean to make you angry. Are you alright?" he inquired, a jovial smile still plastered upon his face.

Before he could finish, Adagio had already turned tail, her nose high in the air. She marched away from him in a huff.

"Oh, don't be angry. Would you like to play ball with me?" the colt asked, then producing a large, red ball from somewhere at his rear.

Adagio's head spun about to face him. "Don't you tell me not to be angry, and no! I do not wish to play with you or your filthy ball!" she huffed, trotting away faster. "Get away from me! Shouldn't you be doing your chores, anyway, colt? Shan't they whip you for this?"

"Oy!" the colt exclaimed, sounding quite offended, now. "Who do you think you are, little miss prim and proper? I don't have any chores here, and I said I was sorry about your stupid robes!"

Adagio scoffed, and turned to face the colt. The look on her face was one of disbelief. How dare this uncultured, little thing speak to her in this way? "Who do I think I am? Who do I think I am?" she laughed, approaching him slowly. "I'll have you know, that this one robe is probably worth more than your entire..."

Her voice trailed off, and her eyes went wide. All this time, running around the gardens, far away from the manor, lost in her own thoughts at the fountain, and not having to stare at the Earl, somewhere along the way, Adagio had forgotten that she was no longer at home. She had forgotten that here there were bound to be other children that she did not know. She had forgotten that one of them would surely turn out to be...

She studied the colt's lack of a horn, suddenly remembering that the Countess Goldenstalks had also been an earth pony. A pit that felt to be the size of a boulder grew in her throat, and she felt almost as if she might cry. "Y... You are..." she whispered, stumbling up to the colt who was now backing away.

He was clearly startled by the sudden shift in her demeanor. "Arrreee..."

Adagio stopped directly before him, and bowed low to the ground, her mane dragging in the dirt. "Forgive me. I didn't kn—I forgot th—I'm sorry, My Lord," she stammered, outraged at her own stupidity.

"What are you—" the colt began.

"I didn't realize," Adagio continued forcing a fearful laugh . "You know how things are. I just thought you'd be a unicorn like most of... I-I just forgot that your mother was an earth pony—not that anything is wrong with earth ponies, of course. What I'm saying is..." She took in a deep breath, and directed her gaze toward the ground, utterly humiliated. "...What I'm saying is..." her voice began to waver, and her eyes welled up with tears. It was very clear the poor thing was about to cry. After all this work, she had surely ruined everything. Earl Goldenstalks would probably call off the entire betrothal after hearing about this unfortunate rendezvous. Her parents would be furious. Her mother would probably lock her in her chambers for weeks.

All of this did not escape the attentions of the brown-maned colt who, seeing what distress the yellow filly had caused herself, reached a hoof out to touch her shoulder. "Listen, it's alright. Really, it is. I'm not angry," he said, pulling Adagio upward out of her bow.

She looked at him, perplexed, wiping away a stray tear. "You're not? Well, why not?" she asked him.

"Eh, many of the other children I play with speak that way. Especially when I beat them at ball. I'm used to it," he laughed.

Adagio's tilted her head, still confused.

"For what it's worth," the colt continued, "I think your robe is pretty. Even though fillies are dreadful." He passed a sly grin her way, and slowly, the yellow filly's face began to brighten. She exhaled in relief, and performed another thankful bow which the colt immediately pulled her out of. He pressed his hooves against her shoulders to prevent her from doing it again. "Stop doing that, will you? I know you have to do it for the Earl, but to me, it's... odd," he murmured.

Adagio felt something flutter in her chest when he got close, even for that one split second. Her breath momentarily caught in her throat. Unable to speak, she simply stared at him, nodded, and took a step backward out of the indecency of his touch.

Finding the silence rather awkward, the colt smiled, and presented his red ball once again. "So, shall we play?" he tittered, laughing as he watched a grin grow on the yellow filly's face.

She moved to make another bow, but stopped herself, remembering what the colt had told her. Instead, she kicked up the hems of her robes, and flicked her tail back and forth. "If that is what you wish," she said with a nod.

Cheering loudly, the colt immediately dropped the ball, and kicked it her way. Surprisingly, Adagio kicked the ball right on the mark, sending it flying across the fountain clearing. Usually, she would only feel comfortable playing these types of games with Moonstone, and only when their mother wasn't around to tell them it was "unladylike". This, however, was something that she very much enjoyed, especially if the one she was to be bound to didn't think of her as less genteel because of it.

Screaming in delight as she ran to chase after the colt, Adagio never noticed the small gathering of ponies quickly entering the clearing.

"Adagio Dazzle Glow!" came a commanding, female voice from somewhere behind her.

The filly's brief moment of happiness came to an abrupt and horrifying end as she spun around to see her mother staring angrily at her from the edge of the clearing. With her was her father, Earl Goldenstalks, Lady Ginger, and Lila who was looking rather dejected.

"Mother!" she exclaimed, trying to stave off the sudden weakness in her legs.

"What in the name of King Bullion do you think, you're doing, young lady?" the lavender mare asked her, taking a step forward.

"It's alright, Mother. I was just playing ball with the..." Adagio trailed off as she noticed Goldenstalks and his wife stepping aside, allowing a shorter unicorn colt—fur the color of drab goldenrod—to step through.

"... Who... Who is this?" Adagio asked, her voice going as weak as her legs.

"Mind your manners, Miss!" Starry continued, shaking her kerchief in the filly's direction. "This is—"

She was interrupted by Earl Goldenstalks raising a hoof, and nodding, gesturing for her to be silent. He still wore a welcoming smile. "It's quite alright, Baroness. She is but a child. She is allowed to play," he stated. Starry nodded in agreement, and stepped back, her lips now tight with embarrassment. The Earl turned to look at the servant Lila who had now begun to shake with dismay. When the golden stallion began to stroke his beard, the poor, magenta pony all but wilted away. "Lila, you shall instruct Prickle to lock you in your quarters for the day. I shall send for you at a later time."

Letting out a defeated breath, Lila lowered her gaze to the ground, bowed curtly, and turned to stumble away on shaky hooves.

Afterward, as if nothing had happened, Goldenstalks turned to face Adagio, smiling brightly. The other adults followed suit, not wanting to seem adverse to any of the Earl's decisions. "I see you've met Prance Lighthoof!" Goldenstalks continued with a loud laugh as the brown-maned colt entered the clearing again, kicking his ball. "This little scamp's father is Sir Race Lighthoof, you realize. A hero, that stallion!"

The Baron and Baroness' eyes went wide with understanding. Surely, if anypony knew Lord Goldenstalks, they also knew of his best friend, the former knight, Sir Lighthoof. A few years prior, the stallion had been made Baronet in reward for his bravery in service.

"I'm going to be just like him when I grow up!" Prance exclaimed as he trotted around the fountain.

The Earl gave a hearty laugh. "So you shall, son! So you shall!" he shouted, then turning his attention to Adagio. The filly stood there staring ahead in a state of shock. She continued to wonder who the goldenrod colt was, as well as what was to become of the maidservant, Lila. As she did so, the Earl urged the goldenrod colt forward so that Adagio might get a better look at him. "Miss Adagio," he began again, far more gently. "May I introduce to you my son and heir, the Viscount and future Earl, Upright Goldenstalks."

Adagio tried her best not to let her facial features curl or crease in surprise as she studied the colt before her. He was stocky, of a much more sturdy build than this Prance Lighthoof was, and he stood tall being twice as old as she. His chest puffed out as an acclimation to his perfect posture. His mane was also brown, but eyes were a stark, wintery blue. His face was very serious, though thankfully, not unhandsome. All in all, the colt looked rather plain and quite severe. Even still, Adagio accepted this, taking it all in stride with remarkable grace. So, this was to be her future husband.

Something about his visage unnerved her, but she figured it was simply a bad case of the jitters after all that had transpired a few moments prior. Collecting herself quickly, and putting Prance out of her mind, she took a step forward, and shook her robes back into place. Once she stood before Upright, she performed a low, graceful bow. "My Lord," she murmured. "It is an honor to meet you."

"Miss Glow," Upright replied, performing the stiffest, coldest, and most rigid of bows before he reached out, and placed his hoof beneath hers. He tugged a bit too roughly at her foreleg as he pulled her out of her bow. So much so, that she had to ring the sting out of her joints before placing her hoof back upon the ground.

Waiting for him to say something else, Adagio followed the all-purpose, tried and true rule for a lady who was just now meeting somepony of great importance for the first time—remain silent. It was a lesson her mother had taught her, of course, but she figured that at least this time, she could count on it.

As she continued to stare at the goldenrod colt, she soon realized that he had no intention of saying anything to her. His piercing, icy, blue eyes worked her over, boring holes wherever they scanned. He even reached out with a hoof to prod and poke at the material of her robe.

Adagio held back a gasp. How could it be that this foal had felt so free to touch her in the company of others? It seemed a highly presumptuous and undignified thing to do to a noble lady. She couldn't help but imagine that this must have been what livestock at an auction felt like, at least according to the stories Beryl would tell her.

Forcing her head into a bow of obedience as she felt her cheeks beginning to burn, the yellow filly simply waited for the inspection to all be over with. Was this normal? Was this supposed to be a show of affection, perhaps? Why hadn't her mother told her about this? Passing a brief, fearful glance toward the Baroness, Adagio noticed that even she looked perplexed as to what was happening.

"This robe," Upright said matter-of-factly after what felt like an eternity.

"Yes, My Lord? D-do you like it?" Adagio breathed, relieved to have the silence finally broken.

"No, I don't think so," he sighed, sounding quite bored. "I don't like this color."

"U-Upright!" Ginger chided the colt, only to be silenced by the Earl who turned to glare at her.

Nervous laughter echoed throughout the clearing, but Adagio couldn't tell who it was that was laughing. After a moment, she realized the sound was coming from her own mouth. Eyes darting toward her parents, again she saw the increased look of anxiety growing on her mother's face, while her father was doing his best to hide his disdain for the rude colt. "Th-that is quite alright, My Lord," she blurted, thinking quickly, and shoving together whatever words she could manage at the moment. "I have many more in many other colors."

Forcing a smile, she did her best to give off an air of calm and understanding. Noticing this, Upright's grinned. Earl Goldenstalks burst out in joyous laughter.

"Wonderful! They get along well! Absolutely splendid!" the stallion exclaimed.

Adagio watched, stunned, as Upright peered at his father out of the corner of his eyes, and then very blatantly rolled them in irritation. Holding out his foreleg to guide the yellow filly forward, the colt began to walk away. "Come. Let's go back inside. The air out here is filthy."

"But Upright!" Prance shouted from the center of the clearing where he had spent this entire time kicking his ball about. "Don't you want to come play with me?"

Quickly turning about to face the white colt, Upright looked him over, and gave him a reserved sneer. "No, I don't think so, Prance," he murmured before turning tail once again, and heading past the adults.

Adagio walked alongside him, knowing that she was now bound to his side by edict whenever they should find themselves together. As the adults followed a short distance behind, chatting amongst themselves, the yellow filly looked at Upright, and passed him a smile that he did not notice. Feeling a bit more determined, she resolved herself to speak.

"W-what is to happen to that servant pony? Lila, I believe her name is," she murmured.

This only drew a scoff out of the unicorn colt. "Oh. Her," he sighed. "Well, she is to be punished, of course. A servant does not simply lose the daughter of a noble. You are very valuable, you know."

This drew the tiniest of smiles out of Adagio, and she flipped her mane proudly. Still, she was quick to wonder what exactly the typical punishment for such an offense was. Perhaps it was best if she told the truth. "I must tell you, My Lord, this wasn't exactly Lila's fault. You see, I was a bit bored with the flowers. It was I who decided to run from her. I didn't think anypony would get into trouble for it." She recoiled when Upright turned to pass her the most foreboding of grins.

"Well, then," he began, "it would seem that today you have both learned a very important lesson. Lila has learned to be attentive to the most pressing of her duties, and you have learned that it is best that you should never think to run away."

The colt's words disarmed her, and she suddenly felt very small in his line of sight. Nodding her head obediently, she gazed at the ground as she walked.

Taking a chance, she then turned her head to get one parting look at Prance. The colt appeared to have long forgotten them both as he leaped about the fountain clearing. Something skipped in Adagio's chest at the sight of him looking so happy and so free despite his being alone. She watched him run past the fountain with his shiny, red ball. Racing further down the path in the opposite direction, Prance ran deep into the beauty of the untamed garden, toward the unknown that lay in the distance.

Wishful Thinking

Upon closing Adagio’s door, Sonata released a breath that she didn’t realize she had been holding. The hallway was dark and silent, save for the moonlight that filtered in through the window on the far wall. The blueish glow seemed to cast itself ominously upon Aria’s bedroom door at the end of the hall, almost as if it were calling for Sonata to approach.

Gulping down a lump that had settled in her throat, the youngest siren took a few, silent steps until she stood directly in front of Aria’s door. She raised her hand to knock, and froze on the spot. Things were bad right now. What Adagio had done, bringing up Aria’s past in such a cruel and thoughtless way, was something that could prove disastrous. She had seen the look on her sister siren’s face when their leader had jabbed those sharp, poisonous barbs into her. She knew what Aria was like whenever she got into one of her moods, especially as of late. It made the idea of simply knocking on the girl’s door to check on her seem foolhardy. Perhaps it was best if she just kept watch by the door overnight to make sure no worrisome sounds came from within.

Sonata lowered her arm, spun around, and slumped down onto the floor to think. Sitting there with evening shadows cast upon her, telltales of the troubles of her incredibly prolonged life seemed to flit across her face. Her head began to ache.

Her entire life, she had never been one to complain about the notion of hard work, or suffering for a cause on behalf of those who truly cared for her, but at long last, tonight, she found herself wondering if she had not finally reached her limit. It was one thing to roam through two millennia only having to dedicate oneself to the emotional welfare of two other beings. Food, clothing, shelter, health, and any other desire was always taken care of. However, when it came to this powerless existence, now life included deadlines, reminding oneself to eat something in between those deadlines, counting and recounting money, worrying, deadlines, and judgments. What will your superiors think of you if you wear this shirt? Do you have time to pick up that laundry? Your voice sounds horrible when you sing; try not to sing. Deadlines. Aria is banging her head against her bedroom wall again. She’ll yell at you, but go distract her anyway. You have a job now, remember? Go to work. Oh, fennel, you’ve accidentally cut yourself again. Patch it up. It won’t heal with a song like it used to.

This was learning to live a mortal’s life in an immortal’s body. This, Sonata thought, was true torture. Small, seemingly trivial thoughts that would once delight her to muse upon as she relaxed within the comforts of her Sirenhood, now warped and distorted into absurd little fixations that perpetually piled up to dominate her entire life. Her thoughts were no longer hers. Her own body and its actions were no longer hers. Now, it just seemed as if the color, the flavour, the life that once seasoned the world around her had been sucked and drained away into one, giant, lump of grayness that stretched out before her to eternity. By the spirit of the seas, what she wouldn’t do to be able to once again look at the sky, and actually see that indomitable, cerulean blue, or to be able to eat a taco and actually taste the damned thing. Her burden had grown exponentially, and in return she did not receive the love or the adoration she required to replenish herself. There was no more sucking it out of the essences of mortals, gorging herself upon their forced affections; of course, her sisters, being made of the same, chaotic stuff as she, often had little if any affection to spare.

Eyes closed, Sonata didn’t realize that she had slowly begun to drift off to that place between deep thought and sleep. Her body had begun to slump to the side, grazing against the front of Aria’s door. It wasn’t surprising, then, that a few moments later, the knob twisted loudly, and the hinges spun backward as the glum girl yanked the door open. Sonata fell backward into the room, knocking her head against the floor, and jolting her into alertness. As she looked up into her elder sister’s deep-set and darkened eyes, she couldn’t help but sigh in exhaustion. She knew what was coming.

“Why are you sitting outside of my room?” the gloomy former siren asked in a flat monotone. As she leaned down toward Sonata’s face, her long locks of hair threatened to brush against the younger girl’s nose.

Sonata looked up at her with weary eyes, and for once, apprehension was not one of the emotions visible within them.

“Oh, come on, Aria. You know why,” she croaked matter-of-factly, running a hand through her blue-streaked fringe.

There was an indecipherable look that crossed Aria’s face for just a split second before irritation took over once more. Without having to be told, Sonata sat up, and slid herself back past the threshold of the door. She didn’t even bother to look at her sister.

“I don’t want you here, Sonata. Get away from my door, and go to bed,” Aria said with finality before slamming the thing shut, and locking it. Sonata flinched as the sound cut into her consciousness like a knife. She leaned forward, and pressed her fingers against her aching temples. Her eyes, teary with fatigue, opened wide as those ancient memories of her gruelling childhood crept into her skull.

There was a pressure building within her that would soon need release if she weren’t to pop. Some kind of escape, some small glimpse of the colorful, passion-filled life she had once known as a siren was required. She didn’t find it strange, then, that the two images that grew to encapsulate all these worries within her mind were that of her beloved beach by the sea, and Patti Mint’s oh, so enticingly criticizing face. However, since Adagio would notice if she disappeared for an entire day—if not more—in order to visit the sea, then the only outlet that was within reach for the time being was that horrible, blue-eyed girl. Her love would be Sonata’s to bask in, and when she finally did, that burst of color, that blast of fresh air, would be just what the former siren needed to catch her second wind. It would make those terrible ghosts of her past disappear for a little while longer. It would replenish those memories of the sweetness of her former Sirenhood.

Releasing her temples, Sonata stood up, and dusted herself off. With a smirk, she pulled the band off of her ponytail, and headed toward her room. That trip to the movies tomorrow most certainly couldn’t come soon enough.

She was on the brink of sleep by the time she hit the bed, and could barely muster up enough energy to wiggle out of her work clothes. Sliding beneath her covers, she took a deep breath, and exhaled. It was a sad thing to acknowledge that her mind—usually racing with images and interesting questions during quiet moments like these—was now simply exhausted and blank, as silent and empty as the halls of their house. Thus, Sonata was surprised when, from the edges of slumber, she was briefly drawn back to awareness by the soft sound of piano keys coming from somewhere above her.

___

There were two concerns competing with each other in Adagio’s mind since the fallout of that evening, two thoughts that fought to grab her energy and attention. So much so that she had felt a desperate urge to get away somewhere to think. Her room simply would not do, and usually, when she was feeling so troubled, there was only one place that would. After the rest of the house had gone to sleep, she quietly made her way up to the attic. Upon entering the dusty, old room, she peered through the grit, toward a large, tarp-covered object sitting by the window, awash in moonlight. Closing the hatch door gently, she tip toed toward the object, and tore the tarp off, revealing a large, antique, console piano. Coughing up some of the disturbed dust, she pulled the piano stool out, took a seat, and unfurled her long fingers.

The song that echoed against the walls of the attic had been soft, slow, undulating. A smile crept across her face as she fondly remembered the first time she had discovered this magical tune. It had been about three centuries ago after their stint in Spain. The girls had been enamored by rumors of the decadent and exciting lives of the Parisian elite, and thus, had resolved themselves to move. Paris had been some of the best times obtained out of the horrible circumstance that was their banishment to this world. If there was ever a time that the three sistren had felt almost alive and enriched with energy again, it would have been there.

One morning, she had set off by carriage to visit a handsome, young socialite who, ironically, had been the son of a Count. He was one of the many mortal lovers she had collected for herself out of sheer boredom over the course of the centuries—by magical means or otherwise. Actually, he had truly not been anything special if she were to consider the entire matter again all of these years later; however, at the time, when she had found him that day, rolling around in bed with not only some debutante opportunist, but also his rental suite’s chambermaid, Adagio had to admit that she had become a bit… miffed.

It goes without saying that she had to cut him loose, and of course, she did—him and the two women. Whether or not she had sung all three of them witless before “cutting them loose” in a goat pasture—dawning only their shifts and stockings—would be something she would forever keep to herself.

Not having yet spent up all of her anger, the siren had then decided to take a brisk walk through town, reading the negative energy around every young, fresh-faced couple she could spy, and so graciously letting one of them know whether the other was a liar, a licentious fiend, or simply had no interest in them at all. Then, after having bestowed so many courteous favors upon the world, she had marched straightaway into a fortepiano maker’s shop, sat down at one of the many instruments therein, and decided to just play the rage out until she could feel it no more.

She had not realized what she’d been playing until twenty minutes later when, upon opening her calm and collected eyes, she caught sight of a crowd of intrigued onlookers, as well as a pair of police lieutenants gawking at her through the glass windows. Sure, Aria had to sign her release from that stinking Parisian jailhouse the next day, but at least she had been wholly and completely relaxed.

Adagio laughed to herself, and shook her head as she allowed these trivial memories to fade into the distance. As she took in a deep breath, and her fingers continued their trip up and down the board, she obliged the horizons of her mind to open.

That musical, magical bond, the root of power that her sisters and she all syphoned from, was an ancient and mysterious thing, indeed. A form of Equestrian magic older than Equestria itself, the bond had birthed the three sisters at a time before the separation and inevitable regathering of the three tribes under the guardianship of the Celestial Sisters. The event had happened so long ago, that by the time the three sirens had been banished to this plane, the story had already been resigned to legend and song. There were few in Equestria who had possessed the power to live long enough to remember it all as it actually happened. Her sisters and she made three; the princesses, Celestia and Luna, made two more. They all knew that the strife that had taken place over the course of early Equestrian history, beginning with the turmoil betwixt the tribes, had begun the day that all three siren sisters had finally reconnected with each other and themselves. Having attained realization, they had then disappeared—in an incensed foam—into deep waters. As they writhed there in the dark, seething and germinating in their own newly realized chaotic powers, it had been that fool, Star Swirl the Bearded, who had come down searching for them, accidentally stoking their immense hunger in the process. It was he who had roused them up out of their sorrowful reveries from the depths to fulfill their destiny: spreading their chaotic influence across the land. In a way, just as they were bastions for chaos, Star Swirl had been the bastion for them and their age. Perhaps it was because of his own guilt, then, that the old unicorn wizard had made it his mission to get rid of them once and for all.

A cold-hearted chuckle escaped Adagio. Now, the old fool was dead, nothing but dust, and despite the best efforts of all those Equestrian do-gooders, she and her sisters were still alive, and very likely still possessed magic. She knew in her heart of hearts that this must be true. When her spirit had called to Aria and Sonata, the only way for them to have heard it was through the unbroken, undamaged source. Somewhere, it was still intact, and try as they might, the forces that worked against them could not destroy such an old and superior strength. Now, in this life that was seemingly filled with the humdrum and hopeless, Adagio knew that it was still possible to quicken themselves once more. Of course, she was determined—ecstatic even—to discover how. A little trial and error, and a bit of experimentation wouldn’t hurt. She did have all the time in the world, after all.

As her mind flowed from one thought to the next, it was inevitable that the former siren should come upon thoughts of Aria Blaze, the second thing that had grown to permeate her mind, despite her efforts to avoid it. When she had said those cruel things to the girl, she hadn’t been considering the regret that was sure to come afterward.

Adagio grimaced at the thought of her own callousness. Her sister had been right, after all. Though neither the eldest nor the most acclimated to toil, Aria was someone that both Adagio and Sonata knew was owed a great deal of debt; for, it was she who had been the first siren to exist. It was she who had been the first to reawaken after the abominable circumstances that had been her life. Indeed, they could not have realized themselves without her; however, that still didn’t mean that all of those ancient wounds were magically healed when they had obtained their power. On the contrary, those pains were the traumas that fueled them. Yet, the yellow girl had thought of it as nothing to prod her younger sister whilst she was in a far more dangerous emotional state. Aria had not deserved such treatment. The eldest girl could at least admit that now, but as usual, it wasn’t until after the fact that she had felt anything resembling contrition. Little by little, she began to ponder upon what Sonata had told her after the fight that evening. Was she really that unappreciative and blind toward them? Were the horrible things that her sisters accused her of being true? She didn’t want to believe it. After all, had she not provided for them all of this time? Had she not been the one that held them all together for a thousand years? How selfish could she possibly be? Didn’t they understand what kind of stress such a thing put her under? Couldn’t they see that she, too, had suffered all these years despite all of her tremendous efforts?

She pulled her fingers off of the keys, and sat in the moonlit silence of the attic, thinking. Her eyes wandered down to the bandage upon her chest as she allowed herself to contemplate how much strife the three girls had seen. Indeed, it was their fate to ever be wrapped in turmoil. Chaos was, expectedly, attracted to them like iron to a magnet; however, this life had proved to be long and cruel, and now Adagio wondered exactly how much more they were expected to be able to take before they might have some recompense.

Rising up out of her seat, she turned to head back downstairs, knowing that she would not be getting much sleep in the hours to come.

___

An alarm clock went off, and was promptly thrown across the room. A small flame flickered to life in the dark. The flame licked the end of a cigarette, and disappeared. Inhalation, exhalation, and then a dancing plume of smoke rose to the ceiling. A cough echoed in the dark as Aria sat up in bed, and shook the sleep off of her.

It always took a moment or five before she could collect her wits about her after a long night of sleep, especially the inebriated kind. Sitting there in the darkness of her room, despite it being past noon, had a rather hypnotizing, time obliterating effect. Still, she found it soothing, and easy to meditate in this type of space. After yet another night of dreaming about warm sands and welcoming blue waves, she found herself thinking deeply about the events of the evening before. No, she wasn’t dwelling on that tremendous hellion, Adagio, who she might have expected would act like a complete jackass upon others holding up a mirror to her own faults. She also decided that it would do her troubled mind some good to also forget the incident with Cookie at Bubbles’ bar, at least for the time being. That could wait until Monday. Instead, she was thinking on the matter of her magical bond, something that, for Aria, Adagio now had little to do with. Hints of the truth had begun to reveal themselves to the sullen siren. The bond was unbroken. That was now a given. With this fact came the notion that, somewhere, the source of their power still lived, intact. Her brow furrowed as she tried to ignore what implications this spelled for Adagio. She was certain that the eldest girl was already planning another doomed scheme to regain their powers, and take over the world. Instead, Aria tried to consider, for the first time since the Battle of the Bands, the possibility that one day she might be able to sing again. Before, she had obliterated the notion in her own mind, finding it too painful to dwell upon. It was easier to tarry on hopelessness, settled in a resolute acceptance that her voice was never coming back. This was around the time she had begun to smoke habitually. Perhaps she had simply been trying her best to drive the final nails into her own proverbial coffin. Maybe she just wanted to get it all over with.

Song had never been a means to an end for Aria like it had been for her sisters. Sure, they adored song just like she did, and perhaps, at one time, long ago, they had known how to sing just for the love of it; however, that was no longer the case. It had been made plain, relatively early on, how Adagio and Sonata used their music in ways to influence how others treated them, but for the rose-colored siren, this simply was not so. Her song, unlike the others', had been a constant source of hope, of self love, and of defiance toward any who should try to destroy her or it. It was her spirit. That was all, and that was enough for her to wield it as a weapon against a world that had treated her so viciously. There was a time in the beginning, before her Sirenhood, when her song had very nearly been taken away from her, permanently. That dark time, the time Adagio had so callously thrown in her face the evening before, had left its deep scars upon her, scars that were invisible, scars that would never fade no matter how long she would live. Still, despite these experiences, her song remained, and was what had kept her going ever since. It had been her raison d’etre.

When she had lost her ability to sing, that will, that drive, all but disappeared. After two thousand years, here she found herself songless, and very nearly hopeless, wondering why she had even bothered to continue on if things were bound to end up this way. Was this to be the epilogue of her story? More importantly, who was the one writing it? Was it Adagio? Fate, maybe? Or perhaps, was there still a chance that she was?

It wasn’t a secret to anyone that self destruction was something that was always lurking in the back of Aria’s mind. Ever since the beginning, the notion had planted itself there, unwilling and unable uproot itself. In a slim list of choices that she had been given in her life, she had forced it to come last; yet it still perpetually remained. It hadn’t been until the destruction of her voice that those dark shadows were again revitalized, beginning to creep about in her thoughts, permeating her mind. After all, if she still had some semblance of a choice, then why shouldn’t she have considered just ending it all as being a credible option?

However, now, she knew the bond remained, and slowly the same shadows went into retreat as the tiniest glimmer of hope began to show itself once more. With much hesitation, Aria pulled the cigarette from her mouth, and sat there in the dark silence. Her eyes had grown wide as she licked, and parted her lips. She took a deep breath.

“W-what we have in store…” she sang quietly before cringing at the sound of her own voice. Stopping abruptly, she grimaced, shook her head, and took another long drag from her cigarette.

After having showered and dressed, she ran downstairs, and was surprised to find that Sonata had not yet risen. What was not remarkable, however, was the sight of Adagio sitting, fully dressed for work, at the kitchen table. She was stirring a cup of clearly cold coffee, and attempting to stave off the sleep that she didn’t get the night prior.

Good. Suffer, you witch.

As Aria walked passed her, and into the kitchen without a word, she ignored the glare that the eldest girl gave her. Upon entering the room, she was struck with the realization that if Sonata had not risen that morning, then most certainly there was no breakfast to be had. Of course, the spoiled, orange-haired, siren queen sitting at the table was useless in the culinary department, and Aria was the only other one of the three that knew how to cook.

Throwing some bread into the toaster, she awaited her meager breakfast whilst loudly tapping her finger against the counter. From her rear, she heard Adagio take a deep, purposeful breath before clearing her throat.

“Aria?” came the eldest girl’s voice, feigning authority that she didn’t have the right to be employing. Aria stopped her tapping. For a moment, it seemed that the silence had become even louder than her fingers. As the stillness ensued, the younger girl never turned around to face her sister.

Don’t. Just don’t.

Like a saving grace, the toaster timer finished, and the toast was instantly snatched up into her hands. Shoving one of the slices into her mouth, Aria spun around, and walked straight away past her elder without ever acknowledging that she had spoken. Reaching down by the entrance to snatch up her sneakers, she then walked barefoot out onto the porch, slamming the door behind her.

Toast in one hand, cigarette in the other, Aria braced herself forward against the porch railing. She was trying her best to clear her mind, and enjoy the cool air against her skin. Between her job and home life, there had been entirely too much wrong going on as of late. Recently, she had decided that if she was planning on staying even the least bit sane, she would have to take the small moments of peace that she was given, and find ways to make them last.

Surprisingly, out of her forced calm, an image of Sonata appeared in her mind’s eye. Usually, the very thought of the blue girl was enough to increase Aria’s heart rate. All that annoying cheer and sunshine—not to mention the constant, irrelevant crap coming out of her mouth—was an absolute aggravation. Still, a small smile now spread across the surly girl’s face as she considered that maybe, just maybe, the youngest of them had also had enough of Adagio’s shit. Perhaps that was why she had not made an appearance downstairs early that day.

She wasn’t aware of how much time had passed as she was standing there, feeling the breeze. However, almost as if being summoned from her thoughts, she soon heard the sound of the front door knob turning, and spun around to catch Sonata stepping out whilst slipping on a light sweater. Both sisters look at each other stoically out of the corners of their eyes, saying nothing. Her curiosity now piqued, Aria let off a plume of smoke, and turned to face her.

“Super busy this morning?” she asked, not really knowing a more polite way to start up a conversation. Sonata said nothing, pulled out her keys, and began to lock the door.

“What was up with breakfast?” Aria prodded. This finally seemed to get the blue girl’s goat. She spun around, fluttering those perfectly doeish eyelashes in her sister’s direction.

“For your information, Aria, I don’t always have to cook breakfast. You can cook sometimes too, you know,” Sonata chided, placing her hand upon her hip.

“I could,” Aria said with a shrug, “buuuut…”

With that, she let off another plume of smoke. She smirked, finding herself rather funny. Sonata coughed as the smoke hit her in the face, then waved the fumes away.

“Why do you smoke those things so much nowadays? They’re bad for you, you know,” the blue girl said as she took a step closer. Aria let loose a loud laugh, and ran a hand through her hair.

“What, you scared I’m gonna die or something? Scared it’s gonna mess up my voice? I assure you, you’ve got nothing to worry about,” she chortled.

“Oh, yea? Well it’s super gross, just like you,” the blue girl retorted, sticking out her tongue. The elder siren rolled her eyes as she inhaled upon her cigarette again.

By Discord, Sonata was annoying, especially when she was trying to sound clever. Even still, Aria couldn’t hold her irritation against her. They both had reason to be in bad moods as far as she was concerned.

“You know, you should try it some time. Maybe then that prissy stick won’t be shoved so damn far up your ass,” Aria said. Sonata crossed her arms, and took a few steps toward the stairs.

“Gross,” the blue girl replied.

“I’m actually being serious. After a bit, it’s pretty relaxing. Come here a second,” Aria urged. Sonata stared at her as if she’d lost her mind.

“Haha. Very funny. You know I’d never—”

“Just come here,” Aria said, reaching out to grab the other girl’s arm, and pulling her close. Taking one last inhale on the cigarette, she eyed her. Too old and jaded to feel anything resembling regret, Aria quickly plucked the stick from her lips, turned it around, and popped it between Sonata’s.

“It’s not gonna hurt you, dummy. Just inhale slowly, hold it a second, and let it go,” she instructed her. Sonata, taking a moment to glance worriedly into her elder’s eyes, did as she was told, then quickly plucked the cigarette from her mouth, coughing loudly. Aria caught the thing before she could drop it, and began to laugh.

“First time’s always a bitch, though,” she cackled as Sonata strained to catch her breath.

“Aria! You’re... such... a jerk!” Sonata gasped between her hacking. Bracing herself against the railing until she could catch her breath, the youngest siren then stood up straight, adjusted her sweater, and turned to leave.

“Been awhile since I’ve seen this side of you. I was starting to wonder if you’d act like a piss-stained, security blanket forever or something. What’s gotten into you today, anyway?” Aria asked, preferring to hear straight from the horse’s mouth what was going on in the younger girl's head—as frightening a notion as that might have been.

“Nothing,” Sonata groaned as she skipped down the steps.

“Wait!” Aria called, a hint of desperation in her tone. Her intonation made Sonata spin around, her eyes wide.

As much as Aria hated to admit it, she had to acknowledge the fact that, at that very moment, if she were forced to stare at Adagio’s face, or the inside of their house for yet another day in a row, she might actually flip. Looking into her younger sister’s eyes, she could see the same need for a release. There needed to be some sort of small escape from this life that they had been living for those past months, and by Discord, she would have it if it presented itself, even if she was forced to tolerate the blue one whilst doing so.

“You’re going to that movie today, right?” Aria asked. Sonata nodded.

“What did you tell Adagio you were doing?” she continued, releasing a fresh plume of smoke.

“Really, really, really long grocery run,” Sonata replied, now very curious as to where this was headed. Aria cocked an eyebrow.

“And she bought that?”

“I don’t think she even heard me,” the blue girl replied with a shrug.

After a beat of silence, she watched as the elder girl reached down, slipped her sneakers onto her feet, and descended the steps to meet her. She flicked the cigarette away, and slipped her hands into her pockets.

“I’m coming with you.”

___

The bus ride to the theater was as quiet as could be expected. It seemed that despite the amount of time they had spent together, the two former sirens had never found much to relate over, except for the business of controlling and devouring negative energy. With that life now gone, there wasn’t really anything to talk about unless they were planning on bickering over their vast personality differences, as usual.

Still, Sonata’s curiosity always seemed to get the best of her, and as the two girls stepped off of the bus, and into the movie theater parking lot, she decided to ask the obvious question that needed asking.

“No offense, Aria, but why are you even here? You already said that you hate this movie, and you and I don’t get along. I don’t get it,” the blue girl asked.

Aria swept her hair over shoulder to keep it from blowing about in the gusts of wind passing through the open parking lot. Sighing, she tried to think of the least emotionally telling way to answer the question.

“Let’s just say that being here is better than being there. I guess I just needed to get out, too,” she replied. Apparently, this answer was sufficient for Sonata. The blue girl immediately nodded her head.

“So, you agree with me?” the youngest girl asked. “Something feels not finished, but I don’t know what. It’s like I can’t hear the messages right. It just ends up feeling like I need a huge vacation or something.”

This already proved to be too much conversation for the rose-colored girl, and she quickly held a hand up to silence her sister whilst rubbing her temples with the other.

“Sonata? Please. I came here to get away from all that quixotic, ominous crap. I just want it all to go away for a while; so, do me a favor, and shut up about it,” Aria stated plainly.

Sonata pouted, and grumbled under her breath. After walking in silence for a few more minutes, she then decided to take an interest in the sky. She smiled, noticing that today it seemed to be more blue than it had been the day before.

“At least the sky is clear today, right? Isn’t it pretty?”

“It’s as blue and vapid as you are. So… eh,” Aria shrugged half-heartedly as her attention was pulled away by someone standing in the distance. A butter-skinned, green-eyed girl with peach colored hair had seemed to catch sight of them, and begun to wave. Aria tapped her sister’s shoulder curiously.

“Hey, I think that girl is waving at us.”

Sonata, who had still been lost in the blue of the sky, looked ahead to where her sister had been pointing, and smiled brightly. She raised her hand, and waved back.

“Oh! That’s Peachy! I’m treating her to a movie today,” she said excitedly. This immediately garnered Aria’s interest. She peered at the blue girl, cocking an eyebrow.

“Treating her, huh? Why?”

“Because she’s my friend, and I like having her around. Duh. You wouldn’t know anything about having friends though,” Sonata said, sticking out her tongue. Aria simply rolled her eyes. Staring at Peach again, she noticed something interesting about her energy, namely that as Sonata and she got closer, a slightly green haze began to swirl and expand around her body.

“Why is she flaring like that?” Aria asked her sister. Sonata shrugged.

“Ionno. She’s always doing that. She’s kinda quiet and… what’s that word again?” the blue girl asked.

“Wary,” Aria replied.

“Yea, that. That’s the first time she’s flared that much around me, though. I wonder why,” Sonata said, tapping her chin curiously.

“Maybe because she’s not a complete idiot. She can sense that you’re a monster,” Aria chuckled, taunting her.

“You are!” Sonata yelled which only made Aria laugh harder.

When they finally reached the front of the theater, and stood in front of Peach, the green-eyed girl reached out to hug Sonata. She then passed a bashful smile in Aria’s direction.

“Hi, Peachy! This is my… sister or whatever, Aria,” Sonata began, directing a rather limp and unenthusiastic finger toward the elder siren. “Aria, this is Peachy!”

Aria, not one for being cooperatively social, forced a smile, trying her best to hide the fact that, at the moment, she was too busy eyeing the plume of green that had exploded out of Peach’s body when she had embraced Sonata. Reaching out indifferently with one hand, she waited for Peach to shake it.

“Oh! So, this is one of your sisters! Nice to meet you… Aria?” Peach said to the disinterested girl. Sonata quickly jabbed her sister in the ribs, jolting her back to attention. Aria’s unnerving purple gaze quickly trained themselves on Peach’s eyes.

“Yea. Same,” she replied without smiling. Perhaps to pick up the slack, Sonata grinned far too brightly in return.

Rattled by their odd behaviour, Peach forced a laugh, and scratched the back of her head.

“Well, um. I think I’ll just go get us some snacks, since you’re buying the tickets and all. Sonata, I know you like sugarfruit babies. Aria, what will your pleasure be?” the angel-eyed girl asked.

“Just get me some peach— uh, I mean... Whatever, I don’t really care,” Aria replied, her gaze having long trailed off back over the girl’s head.

“Alrighty, then,” Peach croaked before backing away, and escaping to the interior of the building. Aria simply watched her go, wide eyed. When she had disappeared from view, Sonata spun around, a gaze of fury upon her face.

“Aria! Can you please try a little harder not to freak my friends out? You’re staring at her like she’s steak and potatoes!”

“Her energy smells like peaches, Sonata. It actually smells like fucking peaches. That has got to be, like, the first… Okay, well the third time that’s ever happened. Can you believe that? How can you even stand being around her?” the elder girl said, rather bewildered.

“Because I have a little something called self control. Not every mortal has to be a meal,” Sonata chided. “Actually, none of them are anymore. So, just get over it, okay?”

Aria quickly passed her an unamused glare. “Sonata” and “self control” were two things that clearly didn’t belong in the same sentence together.

“Give me a break, you little liar. Don’t tell me you’ve never hung around her specifically to smell her energy. She smells delicious. Admit it,” Aria commanded.

Sonata huffed with irritation, and crossed her arms as she quickly moved to go stand in the ticket line. After a while, she turned around to face Aria who she discovered had been giving her a wide, knowing grin the entire time. The blue girl rolled her eyes in defeat.

“Okay, fine. Maybe, like, twice. Are you happy now? I don’t hang out with her just to smell her, though. So, just give it a rest and stop freaking her out,” the younger siren hissed. Aria smirked.

“We’re not even allowed to do anything, because of the tyrant bitch queen. How is it even possible that you two “hang out” anyway? What do you do? Sit around on her couch staring at the ceiling?”

Sonata thought for a moment.

“Yea, pretty much!” she said, passing an innocent smile Aria’s way. The elder girl gawked.

“You mean to tell me you are locked alone in a room with that four course meal on a regular basis, and you’ve never even… Never even…”

She thought for a moment.

“Well, idunno what one could actually do, but I’d totally figure something out. Regardless, yes. I’m satisfied. I just wanted to hear you say it,” Aria quipped, tidying her long, unbanded hair with a smug smile. She already knew she had planted the seed of infatuation in her sister’s head.

“I’ve smelled way better anyway,” Sonata continued on without prompt.

“I’m sure,” Aria replied curtly, inspecting her nails. A long silence ensued as the two of them watched Peach standing in the refreshments line through the glass windows. Slowly, Aria leaned in toward Sonata who had, interestingly enough, begun to chew upon her bottom lip.

“You know, hypothetically speaking,” Aria began, “I bet there is a way, somewhere out there, to devour energies without Equestrian magic. It’s plausible, right? I mean, looking at little Peachy there, a few pretty good ideas come to mind.”

Sonata shoved Aria away, now grimacing at her.

"Aria, you're so—"

"I don't think boiling the hair would work,” the elder girl interrupted again. “I bet that would taste like hardly anything. She's got alot of it, though; so, I don't know. Maybe. Though I'd be willing to bet that all the really tasty stuff is hiding inside her precious, little—"

"Puh-leeease, Aria!" Sonata interjected sounding desperate for the other girl's silence. "Why do you have to be such a weirdo?"

Aria feigned shock despite the fact that she was enjoying her sister's restlessness, immensely. Whatever made Sonata uncomfortable spelled good times for her.

"I'm the weird one? This is coming from the girl who I caught chugging a bottle of dish soap because she wanted to know what dawn tasted like," Aria muttered, crossing her arms.

"Oh, come on. Don't tell me you've never wondered about that. It's dawn, Aria. Dawn. Like the beginning of that lion movie," Sonata hissed, her cheeks puffing with embarrassment. "Wouldn't you like to taste that scene too?"

Aria laughed, holding her forehead in her palm. When she had calmed down sufficiently, she leaned over again, now bracing herself on Sonata’s shoulder.

“In all seriousness, though, I’d give up like, an entire paycheck for someone to invent a way to be able to try her. What do you think she tastes like?” she murmured into the younger girl’s ear, nudging her shoulder. “Like cobbler? Or maybe it’s all a trick, and she tastes like fruit salad or something. Or maybe she tastes—”

“Only like the best pie, ever,” Sonata finally blurted, pressing her palms against her cheeks in exasperation. “She probably tastes like a field of ripe, Equestrian peaches after a summer rain or something, okay? Idunno. It's not like I think about it every, single, little time I'm around her or anything, right? By Discord, Aria. Now, those sugarfruit babies aren’t gonna do anything for me!”

By this point, Aria had already broken out into a loud, obnoxious cackle, her head thrown back. She was only silenced by the sudden sound of someone hissing from somewhere in front her. When she looked around, she was surprised to find the entire line ahead turned to stare at them in shock. A mother, waiting directly in front of them, had reached down to cover the ears of her young son who she had brought along with her that day.

“Do you girls mind? There are children present!” she hissed.

Unimpressed by the woman’s anger, Aria took a quick glance at the tepid puffs of energy escaping off of her body, and bent down to face her child.

“Your mother didn’t really want to come here with you today, did she?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow. Sonata was forced to quickly take control of the situation, and pulled Aria behind her, placing herself between the rose colored girl and the other woman.

“Sorry, ma’am. We’ll keep it down,” the blue girl blurted with an apologetic smile. Still, Aria managed to stick her tongue out at both the insufferable woman and her snotty, little spawn.

Things eventually quieted down. The two former sirens obediently purchased their tickets, and went to go meet Peach. The pretty girl had been standing just in front of the ticket taker, her arms full of popcorn, drinks, and candy. Sonata took some of the items from her, and handed her a ticket.

“Gee, thanks Peach! You didn’t have to do this, you know!” the youngest siren exclaimed.

“Yea, I did. We both needed a pick-me-up after what happened with… you know who,” Peach replied. Aria, being ever the sharp one, picked up on this statement, and passed Sonata a questioning glance.

“With whom?” the elder siren asked Peach. The girl quickly shook her head, and smiled, realizing her mistake. Wisely, she decided to change the topic.

“Oh, by the way, Aria, I didn’t know what you liked, so I got you the same as Sonata. Hope you’re into sugarfruit babies!” the girl said, handing her a box.

Aria, her urge to meddle again aroused, reached out, and took the box, making sure to brush a finger against Peach’s just to see that delicious plume of smoke escape off of her once again. Popping the box open, she deliberately reached in, and pulled out one of the little gummy humanoid shapes it contained. Perhaps it was just by luck that the gummy also happened to be orange-colored.

“Why, thank you, Peach. As a matter of fact, I just got a hankering for sugarfruit babies just now. Imagine that,” she stated. Purposefully giving the little gummy man a squeeze, she popped it onto her tongue, and slurped it up, trying her best not to laugh at Peach’s clear discomfort.

“Uhhh, you’re welcome?” Peach laughed nervously, not understanding why a burning sensation had begun to creep up into her cheeks. Sonata reached out, snatched the girl’s arm, and began marching her straightaway to the ticket taker. Turning around, she passed Aria another furious glare before relinquishing her ticket, and shoving Peach through the turnstile. Aria, chuckling to herself, followed close behind.

The movie actually wasn’t so bad, at least not the fifteen minutes or so that Aria had stayed awake for. For as much as she could tell, it was about a bunch of sexy immortals who would hypnotize their victims with their sexy glampire powers before draining them. That wasn’t something that she couldn’t altogether relate to. After all, she did consider herself to be the most attractive person she could think of. There was also some other boring stuff about vegetarians and love buried in the flick somewhere, but by that time she had just about nodded off.

Afterwards, standing outside of the theater, Aria had fired up a fresh cigarette as she waited for the two bubbly girls alongside her to stop harping on about the movie. Fifteen minutes later, she was still waiting. Finally, when she could take no more of their overly enthusiastic chattering, she decided to speak her mind.

“Please, for the love of all that is rotten, can you two shut up about this frikkin movie?” she very nearly begged as she stomped out another dead smoke. Sonata and Peach both turned to gaze at her, almost as if they had forgotten she had been standing there.

“Sorry, Aria. It was just really good,” Sonata murmured, the expression on her face so innocent and excited that it made the sullen siren want to vomit.

“Yea, like the part where he picked her up, and ran through the trees,” Peach stated. Sonata gasped with joy.

“Or the part where he jumped in front of that truck to save her,” the blue girl continued.

“Or the part where—”

“For fuck’s sake!” Aria yelled, scaring a few other patrons scattered out front. “Do you two hate me or something? Why are you doing this to me?”

“Alright, alright! Gosh!” Sonata ceded, raising her hands defensively. “We’ll just have to talk about it next time we see each other at work.”

She turned to smile at Peach who had begun to giggle. Aria’s eye twitched as she noticed the haze of green that had haloed the girl all afternoon slowly begin to dissipate. Was Peach enjoying her blatant discomfort?

“Yea, I’ve gotta get going anyway, Sonata,” Peach sighed. “Going out of town tomorrow.”

“Lucky you,” Aria muttered, shoving her hands into her pockets.

Surprisingly, Peach didn’t seem put off by the glum girl’s words this time around. She turned to give Sonata a hug, and then stretched her hand out toward Aria one more time.

“It was nice meeting you, Aria. Maybe we’ll see each other around some time,” she said with that typical, sweet grin.

Aria reluctantly took her hand, and shook, disappointed when no green fumes appeared. When Peach tried to pull away, the former siren locked her grip a little tighter.

“Uhh,” Peach began, unsurely.

“Yea, just… hold on a sec,” Aria said as she stood there staring at the girl.

At that moment, neither the rose colored siren nor Peach had noticed Sonata’s gaze moving beyond them to the opposite side of the street. The blue girl’s raspberry glare turned sharp and hot, trained on whatever it was she had seen like a hound who had just spotted its prey.

“Squeezing my hand kinda tight there, Aria,” Peach laughed, again becoming quite anxious.

“I know,” Aria stated flatly as she watched green fumes begin to emanate from the girl before her. When the pleasant smell of peaches hit her one more time, she finally relinquished Peach’s hand. “Alright, I’m done.”

“Oookay,” Peach murmured, rubbing her wrist. “Well, see you two later, I guess?”

Noticing that she wasn’t getting any replies, she gave one last nervous grin, and turned to quickly walk away. Aria sighed longingly as she watched the girl go, shaking her head.

What a waste.

She was promptly brought back to attention by Sonata gripping her arm.

“Time to go, Aria,” the blue girl stated outright, her eyes still trained on whatever it was she had been watching go down the street.

“Go where?” the elder girl asked, already annoyed.

“Sammy’s. We gotta go to Sammy’s,” Sonata replied.

“Why the hell would you want to go there? It’s the weekend. I thought you wanted to get away or whatever,” Aria continued, wrenching her arm out of the blue girl’s grasp.

“I’m hungry,” Sonata retorted, already beginning to walk away.

“No. Pick something else,” Aria replied.

“I’ll buy you anything you want,” the younger siren posed, anxiousness now entering her tone. The elder girl cocked an eyebrow at her.

“I’m going to hold you to that. Let’s go.”

____

Aria remained suspicious as she sat across from Sonata in a booth located in the far corner of Sammy’s. From the time they had arrived, she had watched the younger girl act strangely, sneaking around, and speaking quietly as if she weren’t supposed to be there. Following her to the distant booth, Aria observed, unamused, as she snatched up a menu to hide her face, and proceeded to peer out onto the restaurant floor.

“What’s going on, Sonata?” Aria asked her plainly, crossing her arms, and sitting back in her seat.

“What? Huh? Nothing! Don’t be silly, Ari. Why would you think anything’s going on? Does it look like something’s going on? Nothing’s going on. Nothing at all! S’cuse me a minute!”

Having said that, Sonata threw down her menu, bounded up, and rushed across the currently waitress-free restaurant floor. Ducking down beside the windowed door to the kitchen, she paused a moment to reassess the situation.

Back in the theater lot, she hadn’t wanted to believe her eyes when she saw it, but now she was finally in a position to either confirm or disprove her suspicions. As she peeked in through the door’s window, those suspicions were put to rest; for, there she stood, Patti, fanning herself with her serving tray in the kitchen’s heat. Sonata’s target of choice was awaiting her next order. The youngest siren had seen her walking quickly down the street in Sammy’s direction wearing her work clothes. Now that she knew why, her brow furrowed with irritation. What was Patti doing working on the weekend? She didn’t have any shifts today, the little sneak. Was she trying to find an out somewhere? Well, there most certainly wasn’t going to be one. Not if Sonata had anything to say about it.

Gasping in surprise when Patti’s order came up, the blue girl then dove down behind the cash register. Once the sour-faced woman had exited, and walked by, the former siren then crawled along the floor back to where Aria was sitting. She then hid herself behind her menu, once more. By then, Aria had been given enough time to work some things out for herself.

“I think I know what you’re doing,” the older girl stated plainly.

“What are you talking about? I’m not doing anything,” Sonata muttered, her entire head hidden behind the menu.

“Yes, you are. You’ve got your eye on somebody. Who is it? Does he work here? Is it that scrawny, little cook guy?" Aria urged, nudging Sonata’s leg beneath the table.

“Who, Junior? No way! I mean, I don’t have a crush, Aria!” Sonata hissed as Patti happened to come dangerously close to their table at that very instant. She breathed a sigh of relief as she walked away. “Will you just shut up?”

A bored expression spread across Aria’s face.

“Sonata, you’re the worst liar; we all know this. So, why don’t you just come clean, and tell me wh—”

Right at that moment, when Aria had spun around to catch Patti Mint sauntering away, she realized that Sonata’s glare had been trained on the tiny haze of green that followed close behind her. Her eyes went wide with realization.

“You’re hunting! You little hypocrite, you!” Aria gasped, a mischievous grin now spreading across her face. “You want that girl! Who is she? She doesn’t look like anything special to me.”

“Aria!” Sonata pleaded, guilt seeping from her voice. “Don’t be silly! What would I need to do that for?”

“What does she smell like?” the dour siren inquired as she continued to stare at the girl, ignoring her sister’s pleas.

“She doesn’t smell like— I’m not hunting her, alright?” Sonata hissed. At that instant, Aria watched as the blue girl’s eyes went livid as she observed Patti picking up a tip from one of her emptied tables. The elder girl’s eyebrow rose with intrigue.

“This isn’t about her energy, is it?” Aria put forward sternly as she turned to face Sonata. “Not that it could be. Listen, Sonata. You can’t make people feel the way you want them to about you anymore. You know that.”

A frustrated, almost bruised expression passed across Sonata’s face as she watched Patti march back into the kitchen. Turning her eyes upon Aria, she growled, clenching her fists.

“I can make anybody do whatever I want!” the younger girl hissed, losing herself in her anger for a moment. “Patti loves me. She just… doesn’t know it yet.”

Aria, too familiar with their old ways, just couldn’t bring herself to feel shocked or even disturbed. She had seen this side of Sonata reveal itself many times before. Every now and then, the girl, who Aria had to admit was very popular in her social circles, would be rejected by someone. More often than not, it was never anyone special, but Aria knew that for Sonata that didn’t matter. Inevitably, the younger girl’s attention would be drawn in a way that was frightening. An obsession would reveal itself in her, one that would not be satiated until the object of her desire was practically groveling at her feet. Usually, with their powers, getting to this result was rather simple and uncostly; however, considering their new circumstances, Aria knew for a fact that, now, the notion was foolhardy. All this seemed to be an ominous situation that could not only put the youngest girl in peril, but all of her sisters as well. Sonata was sweet and cheerful when she wanted to be, but one would be reckless to assume that this meant that she wasn’t as dangerous and chaotic an entity as her comrades, perhaps even more so. After all, the girl did have a propensity for getting lost in her own delusions without consideration for the world around her.

“Okay, Sonata. I’m going to tell you something, and I need you to hear me,” Aria began, pressing her palms together in a serious manner. “You need to let this go. The control you think you have over others doesn’t exist anymore. If you keep doing whatever it is I know you’re currently doing, then this isn’t going to end well.”

She knew that Sonata had heard her by the way the younger girl’s cheeks puffed, and her breath seemed to quicken with frustration. It appeared that she was having a war within herself. For a moment, Aria thought that perhaps she would see things her way. Her raspberry eyes softened, and she let loose a loud sigh. The blue girl’s mouth fumbled for a few apologetic words until, out of the corner of her eye, she spied Patti exiting the kitchen again. The girl headed toward a freshly emptied table, and picked up yet another tip.

The youngest siren’s rage was rekindled, twofold. Forgetting her previous feelings of remorse, she moved to stand. Aria grabbed her arm, but it was swiftly swatted away.

“You’ll see,” the blue girl hissed, sticking out her tongue. “If you’re scared, then that’s your problem, isn’t it?”

With that, Sonata stood up, and marched out of the restaurant, headed toward the back lot. Aria, equally resentful over having been spoken to in such a way—by 'the blue one', no less—picked up the menu, and began to sift through the listings. At first, she was determined to just let Sonata learn her lesson the hard way; however, as a feeling of dread slowly descended upon her, she found it difficult to concentrate on anything else but the danger the younger girl was putting them all in. Sighing loudly, she slid out of the booth, and headed out the door.

Sonata, knowing that the back door to the locker rooms was always open, marched through the entryway as if she owned the place. The back rooms were usually quiet until it was time for a shift change, or someone needed to use the restroom; thus, she resolved herself to waiting for Patti to venture through the area. Fortunately for her, she only had to wait a few moments before she heard that familiar voice rudely telling one of the other waitresses off. The voice’s owner then neared the back room door.

Edging herself closer to the parking lot door where she would not be seen, Sonata waited until Patti had crossed the hallway to walk into the restroom before she made her move. Unfortunately, Aria, who had been wondering where Sonata had disappeared to, decided to finally meander in through the back door to take a peek, startling Patti in the process. The brunette spun around to glare at her. She caught sight of Sonata at the same time.

“What the hell?” Patti murmured, a bit shaken.

Sonata, now rather cross at her sister, pulled the other siren in through the door, slamming it shut behind her. She then turned, and passed an all too saccharine smile Patti’s way.

“Heya, Patti! I didn’t know you worked weekends,” the younger siren stated, edging closer. It was clear that the blue girl was the last person that Patti had wanted to see by the way her shoulders fell, and her glare seemed to lose its edge.

“Uh, hey. Yea, actually I—” Patti mumbled, trying to fight off the strange impulse to back out of the locker rooms, slowly.

“No, you don’t have a shift today,” Sonata finished for her, shaking her head. The smile was still plastered upon her face. “So, what’s going on? Making a lotta tips today orrr…?”

“Th-things are kinda slow today, actually. What’s it to you?” Patti said, determined to not lose face to such an annoying little twerp as Sonata. She placed a hand on her hip, and defiantly cocked an eyebrow. Aria, trying to quickly assess the situation, backed up into the shadows whilst she studied the girl.

“Oh, Patti. You’re so silly. Things aren’t ever slow on a Saturday,” Sonata giggled, now anxiously tugging at her own fingers.

“Look, Sonata,” Patti began. “I didn’t kick your ass yesterday, and I think that was really rather generous of me. So, I’m going to need you to back off.”

Patti stepped forward to aggressively poke Sonata in the chest. It was clear to both sirens that the girl was feigning courage considering the amount of fearful energy that was now seeping out of her pores. Still, to Aria, a threat was a threat. The dour siren stepped forward, her hands instinctively balling up into fists.

“Listen, Sweetie—” Aria began to threaten her, only to be stopped by Sonata’s outstretched arm.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Patti. I just wanted to say hi, and see what you were up to, that’s all!” the blue girl said before turning to leave. “We weren’t planning on staying long anyway, but I guess I’ll just see you Monday, right?”

Passing one last, ominous grin in Patti’s direction, she marched with Aria out of the back door. Once in the parking lot, the elder siren watched as Sonata’s expression immediately fell blank, a clear indication that she was now lost deep in that spacious head of hers. The blue girl marched away in the direction of home as her sister, still getting a bad vibe from the entire situation, lit up a fresh cigarette, and followed close behind.

Author's Note

Aria's a creeper.

*ugly laugh* :trollestia:

A Call in the Dark

It was Misses Clouds who had found her in the wee hours of the morning, lying unconscious and broken in Swift’s dark and empty cellar. It was Misses Clouds who always seemed to find her there. Aria’s purple and green strands of mane, having grown far longer over the years, splayed themselves against the gray, clouded flooring, and concealed her still face. Her battered wings had managed to wrap themselves haphazardly around her body for comfort from the cold.

Always one to be in a huff, Clouds tried her best to stifle her desire to cry over the familiar visage of Aria’s unmoving form, and instead hurried to spread a large bedding sheet she had been carrying onto the floor. Moving to the unconscious mare’s side, she shoved her into the middle of the sheet, and gathered up the edges into a toteable knot. When Aria was but a small filly, it had been far easier to grab her up by the tail or carry her upstairs from Swift’s cellar upon her back; however, now that she was fully grown, she proved far too heavy for the old pegasus to lift.

Biting down upon the knot in the sheet, Clouds then pulled Aria as gently as she could manage back up the endless stairway toward the upper rooms where her chamber was located. She dragged her for quite a while down dark, unpopulated hallways before she came to a large door. Unlocking the thing with a worn key, Clouds pulled Aria’s form into the room, and shut the door behind her.

Quickly untying the knot, she ran off to fill a bucket with water in the servant’s bath house which sat directly next to her chamber. Upon her return, she bent down beside the unconscious mare, and began firmly tapping her cheek.

“Aria! Miss Aria Blaze!” she hissed, her voice full of worry and terror. “Please! Please wake up!”

At first there was no response. Bracing the younger mare’s head with her hoof, Clouds fought down a yelp when she realized one of her eyes had been totally blackened.

“Spirits of the winds, please, no,” she breathed to herself, staving off yet another round of tears. Reaching over toward the bucket, she picked the thing up, and quickly splashed a great deal of water onto Aria’s face. The mare groaned. Another splash, and she sputtered to life with a round of coughs.

“Oh, thank the stars,” Clouds cried as Aria’s one good eye opened, and her vision began to focus. Tears finally rolled down the older one’s cheeks as she watched the rose-colored mare’s gaze slowly train itself upon her. “You gave me a fright, Miss! Forgive me, please! I left you for far too long this time. I was ordered to tend to the banquet all evening, and couldn’t get away. I’m sure that beast planned it this way. Oh, I was so afraid. I thought that this time he would surely…”

Clouds could not finish her own sentence, finding the notion in her head too abhorrent to bear. Aria, who had been listening in a daze, shivered in pain before attempting to push herself up to a seated position.

“Careful, Miss,” Clouds chided her gently. “Your wings are a right mess. We’ll have to patch you up. Oh, Aria, I did truly think this time he’d finally done it.”

Clouds stared at her again, her eyes welling up before she lunged forward, gathering the mare up into a relieved embrace. Aria coughed in pain, and patted her back.

“Come now, Clouds. That’s enough of that,” she croaked, forcing a pained laugh. “You know it will take far more than Swift to be rid of me.”

Clouds poured a bucket of water over Aria’s head as the mare sat stewing in a warm bath a few moments later. She hissed back the pain of liquid hitting all of her scrapes and bruises, but eventually settled into the tub with a sigh. More lively than she seemed to be a few moments ago, the older, lavender pegasus now bustled about, fetching scrubbers, and mysterious bottles from off of the window sill where she had left them. Upon returning to Aria’s side, she popped open one of the bottles, and gently turned the younger pegasus’ head to face her.

“Here now, Miss. Let me see that eye.”

Aria winced as Clouds gently prodded the swollen and blackened thing. The older mare growled to herself angrily as she produced a clean cloth, and poured the contents of the bottle into it.

“That monster. The day I get the key to the Lady’s poison cabinet is the day he goes,” Clouds huffed, slamming the bottle down. As she patted the moistened cloth onto Aria’s eye, the younger mare studied Clouds’ face.

“You mustn’t say such things,” Aria began very seriously, her voice still hoarse. “What if somepony were to overhear?”

“Let them,” Misses Clouds retorted. “Everypony hates him. You know the only reason Lady Mist tolerates his presence is because of that accursed agreement.” Aria nodded, and sighed, once again choosing to close her eyes.

By now, she knew the story well, having heard it repeated numerous times amongst the kitchen staff, and the household servants of which she was but one of the number. Everypony in Gales knew the story of Lady Mist’s ancestor, Fillius the Great, the founder of their city. However, the part of the story many often forgot to mention was the part that explained that when he had defeated the dragon hoard to found the city, he had done it alongside his closest companion, one of his legionaries, Agallopetos Swift. When all had seemed lost against the biggest and most fierce of the dragon hoard, Agallopetos had not only saved Fillius’ life from the literal jaws of death, but with his help, wounded and drove the creature away for good. On that very same day, Fillius swore an eternal oath to his friend that the Mists and the Swifts would be forever bonded. The well being and good fortune of one would spell nothing less for the other, and if any of their descendents should ever think to break this bond, they would forfeit whatever inheritance their forefathers had passed down to them.

“Believe me, she hates him just as much as anypony else. Here’s to hoping that one day she might put some of that fortune to good use, and get rid of the bastard,” Clouds continued on.

Such bonds that superimposed themselves upon the will of those who had no power to choose usually ended tragically. Aria acknowledged this as truth. Midnight Swift, Agallopetos’ descendent, had followed in his ancestor’s hoofsteps by rising to the ranks of an honored commander, a great pegasus of war. He had not been known for his cruelty then, not until the Lady Mist called him away from the heart of Gales to work in her household, fulfilling the bond of their forefathers. The reason why, to that day, remained a mystery, but knowing the Lady Mist, everypony supposed it was probably for guarding against something scandalous that might have the potential to ruin her. Aria would often sit around the other servants as they speculated tirelessly about what this possible scandal could have been. It bored her, to be quite honest. All that really mattered about it all is that Swift had grown cruel as he found life under the Lady quite unbearable, to say the least. He shunned her offers of fine rooms and riches, opting to dwell as far away from her as possible whilst still being on estate grounds. They often spent hours in her study arguing over things that the rest of the household could only wonder about, and they never once shared a moment that could give rise to the idea that their forefathers were once the best of friends. Strangely enough, from time to time, Aria found herself wondering if Swift’s own pain was why he treated her with such cruelty. She wondered if the stallion wasn’t pitiable despite the fact that he was a degenerate.

“Clouds?” she began, stroking her chin thoughtfully. “Do you suppose that perhaps I should… forgive him for what he does? Perhaps the Lady Mist brings grief upon him just as—”

“No, Miss Aria!” Clouds nearly screamed, reaching into the tub to grab her by the shoulders, and stare into her eyes. “Don’t you ever say that. Don’t you ever attempt to sympathize with him. What he does is wrong. He wreaks cruelty. He is venomous. Don’t you ever let him poison your mind as well; for, then he would have truly conquered you.”

Aria, quite startled, met Clouds’ stern gaze while shrinking into the water. She nodded her head fervently in hopes that the older pegasus might release her shoulders. When she finally did, she continued on dabbing the younger mare’s eye with the potion-soaked cloth, pretending as if Aria had never made such a disturbing and foolish statement.

“That should take care of it. The potion is fortified with unicorn magic this time. This dreadful thing will be gone, hopefully, within the hour.”

Clouds grimaced to herself whilst she soaked the cloth in the potion once again.

“Why, by the four winds, why must he always strike your face? He fears you catching somepony’s eye. He dreads the day somepony takes you away from this horrible place, and gives you the good life that you deserve! I know it!”

Aria scoffed as Clouds helped her lean forward so that she might begin applying the healing balm to her battered wings.

“Indeed. I’m sure Mist would be just delighted to let me go,” Aria hissed as Clouds carefully expanded one of the mare’s wings with her hoof.

Clouds frowned at her words.

“Oh, Aria, why don’t you at least try, and see? There are many eligible stallions in Gales. Some you’d remember from when you were but a filly! I’m sure I could think of something to coax some of them here, and—”

“Most of the other children ignored me if they weren’t busy being my tormentors. Why in the heavens would I marry any of them?” Aria inquired, her voice growing resentful. Clouds’ expression grew rather irritated.

“The servants of the house, then. You do know that Comet Racer will be leaving to open his trading outpost on the edge of the city next month. A mare with your charm should have no trouble with him. I’m sure of it. Why can’t you just try?”

Aria turned to give Clouds the most pitying of smiles.

“Clouds, no upstanding pony of honor would have me. You’ve heard the horrible things they say about Swift and me.”

Clouds shook her head, and winced her eyes shut to stave off a feeling of disgust.

“Never you mind those malicious lies, Miss. Deep inside, everypony knows the truth.”

Clouds’ lips tightened closed as if some invisible force had forbidden her to speak more on the topic. She felt sick and helpless looking down at the poor mare who now sat staring at her own marred reflection in the water. In her eyes, the old, lavender pegasus saw a beautiful defiance, one that had existed since her childhood, but also one that was growing weak and wearing thin with time.

This was not the only way in which Aria had noticeably changed, however. As the years passed by, Clouds had watched as that proud and burning rebelliousness was slowly smothered by Aria’s gradual realization that she could not figure a way to free herself from the woes of Mist and her estate. This was after many escape attempts over the years which had all proven to be futile. As this awareness dawned on the younger mare, that brash energy died down into a more watchful and patient simmer. She had become even more quiet, having learned harsh lessons, in many ways, about being too quick to open her mouth and speak her mind. She had become more glum, and quite often unamused in response to the inexplicably strict dictates that controlled her life, the worst of all being her inability to ever leave. Those towering gray walls, and murky dark hallways had been the same hallways she had lurked down her entire life. Her sharp and eager mind became bored amidst the mundanity, her disposition became quite short and often harsh with those estate ponies she had learned to decipher over the years. To Clouds, it often seemed as if the mare was biding her time until something happened, but she was quite sure that neither she nor Aria knew what that ‘something’ was. It was a relief, at least, that the fuchsia pegasus appeared to had not yet given up hope for her life. Having dedicated herself to keeping Aria as safe as she could from her torments, the stress nearly did prove too much for Clouds to handle; yet, she persevered, using the younger mare as her inspiration. For, if Aria could be filled with fortitude under such duress, then surely Clouds could also find a way to do the same.

After applying the salve to the mare’s other wing, the older pegasus gently laid them out to hang over the edges of the tub. Gathering together Aria’s long mane, she moved to her rear, and began to comb it through. Fortunately for her, the rose-colored pegasus could not see the frustrated tears falling from her eyes from where she sat.

“Miss Aria, I’d never be able to forgive myself if I were to lose you. I tell you this all the time, and it seems you have yet to oblige me on any of my suggestions. You have to find a way to escape. It’s only a matter of time before… before—… You must promise me that you will at least try with Comet Racer. Please.” Clouds heard the younger mare sigh, and watched as her shoulders slumped into the water.

Aria felt herself growing more and more irked by the older pegasus’ frantic worrying, not that she would ever outwardly turn against the other mare in anger. Over the years, Misses Clouds had proven to be the closest thing to a loving family that Aria had ever known. She was a beloved friend, and vigilant protector in whichever minute ways she could manage. It was not lost on Aria that had she not been under Clouds’ protective watch all of these years, she might have very well already been dead. However, she could never confront the older mare with the harsh truth that her incessant suggestions, spurred on by feelings of helplessness, no doubt, would always and forever prove to be futile. Clouds seemed to be in denial about the very blatant fact that Aria’s inability to leave Mist’s estate was not the result of some passive force, a story spawned by countless coincidences piled up to create accidental captivity. This was active imprisonment; everypony knew it, but could never figure what the reason for it might be. The estate guards fervently watched for her, especially if she ever happened to go too near the gates. It seemed the household would be put into a panic whenever they—Swift especially—could not account for her whereabouts. Though she was now an adult, even now, she was still required to remain hidden and locked away in her rooms during any visitor’s day, a practice that had begun long ago after the incident with Madame Rosedawn. She was never allowed even the smallest opportunity to dream that perhaps a friendly or loving connection with somepony else might ever lead to her freedom. Indeed, the secrecy of her existence was made quite clear, and everypony who was a part of the Mist household knew this, just as much as they all knew about the torments she had been enduring all these years at the hooves of Swift; yet, none of the cowards dared say anything. None of them dared venture out for help, knowing that the power of the Mist name superseded any and every law that one might claim was just and good.

The younger mare grimaced as her thoughts wandered back to Comet Racer, yet another strapping, young stallion that Clouds was using to alleviate her own worries, and to stave off having to finally accept the truth. He, of course, had not been the first stallion that the old matron had suggested as a means for Aria’s escape. Somehow, somewhere along the way, her desire for Aria’s happiness was overshadowed by her desire for the mare’s survival. She no longer considered the fact that perhaps Aria might not have wanted to continue on had she no hope of someday being content, especially with somepony who she should be expected to marry. Clouds would claim that Aria did not want to try to make connections with somepony else, but what she had not known was that to Aria this was already a notion that had long ago proven to be a flop. The elder one did not realize that the vice-like grip that the authorities of Mist’s estate had on her could never allow her even the smallest inkling of an independent life, and this included anypony she might have cautiously chosen to give her heart to.

There was once a mare, not too long ago; Cirrus Weaver was her name. A seamstress in the main house of the Mist estate, she was neither the brightest, bravest, nor the strongest of pegasi, but Aria had found her radiant. A bubbling, honey-colored, ball of life and joy, she had stumbled into her one evening while the dour mare had been delivering Lady Mist’s supper, and had immediately taken a liking to her. Not having worked at the estate long enough to have caught on to the rumors about Aria, Cirrus grew to be a singular, shining light in the glum pegasus’ dim world. Despite the seamstress’ naivete, she proved to be the one pony who could make her laugh, the one pony who showed profound interest in her personal feelings—at least those of which she was willing to reveal—and the one pony who did not fear her song, but in fact found it beautiful. It didn’t take long for her to win Aria’s heart.

Of course, with the understanding that such feelings shared between mares were frowned upon, it could be expected that Aria had no plan to ever reveal her sentiments to Cirrus out loud. The mare’s company seemed more than enough. In the end, however, it didn’t matter since back then, Aria’s mannerisms had been quite transparent, something she could kick herself for now. Always stuttering and going red around the mare, it wasn’t too long before her feelings for Cirrus had become yet another unspoken piece of common knowledge amongst the Mist household staff. Being ever the popular and social pony amongst the servants, this of course meant that, soon enough, Cirrus came to hear of these rumors. She was surprisingly quick to return Aria’s affections. Little did the two know, during their secret meetings by the cloud garden whilst furtively holding hooves as Aria read poetry to her, that an insidious eye was upon them both.

Aria knocked her forehead with her hoof, and grimaced as she sank deeper into the tub water. Even now she wondered how she could have ever been such a grand fool, how she could have ever allowed herself to become so comfortable, so careless as to allow Swift to see them, to understand them, to understand her. The inevitable reckoning for allowing herself to find happiness didn’t take long. Cirrus was a sociable and optimistic pony, but she was, indeed, also gullible, rather naive. Swift, being a former tactical stallion of war, made quick work of her.

He had called for his supper one evening, and everypony knew that he would only accept the meal if brought by Aria. As usual, Misses Clouds accompanied her so as to dissuade Swift from any funny business. The young mare had been in a relatively affable mood that evening, having secretly planned another meeting with Cirrus by the cloud garden wall for later on. Knowing Clouds would not do too much to dissuade her, she had even begun to hum a quiet tune to herself as she neared Swift’s dark, chamber door.

Moving to knock, she was surprised to find the doorway unlocked. Opening the thing, and calling from outside for the stallion to fetch his fare, she at once had heard a strange sound coming from deep within the murky room. Bidding Clouds to stand watch by the door, Aria persevered, and ventured forth into the gloom. As she moved further into the room, the sound she had heard began to take shape and form—belabored breath, a mare’s groaning. She could hear it coming from around the bend of boxes that Swift stored near the front of the chamber. Aria’s eyes went wide as she considered that perhaps she had caught Swift in the act of torturing yet another victim. Running quickly toward the sound, hopefully to save whichever soul had been so unfortunate as to draw the wicked attentions of the dark stallion, Aria turned the bend, and pushed past the threshold into Swift’s grim inner chamber. She froze on the spot. The plate clenched between her teeth clattered to the floor, spilling its contents everywhere. Her mouth gawked in silent horror as her hind legs threatened to collapse.

“Cirrus?” she croaked, barely above a whisper. At the sound of her name coming from Aria’s mouth, the honey-colored mare’s head shot up to stare at her in equal horror from where she lay—sprawled, flushed, and sweaty beneath Swift’s sturdy, armorless, form.

“A-Aria?” Cirrus yelped, pushing away the long, damp, strands of mane that hung in her face, and immediately shoving Swift’s wickedly grinning maw off of her bare belly. The sprightly mare’s body began to shiver with anguish as she watched Aria’s entire visage cave in upon itself, her heart breaking straight down the middle. “Aria, p-please, let me explain… This is—… I don’t...”

Her voice began to crack as she stumbled out of Swift’s bed, and onto the floor. She watched as Aria began to retreat out of the room, her head shaking in disbelief. From the shadows where he lay fevered and content in his own depravity, Swift began to chuckle. The sound cut the air like a knife.

“I don’t think there’s anything much to explain, Love,” he said, staring at Cirrus’ shaking form. His eyes slid over toward Aria, and the bile rose into her throat as she watched his smile grow even wider. “Do you, Miss Aria?”

She ran, fast and far away.

That was the last time she ever saw Cirrus, the sprightly pegasus who she had loved so. Of course, soon after that night, Swift was hasty in having the mare defamed, and dismissed from the Mist estate for her “disorderly conduct”. There were many times between that incident and her departure that she had attempted to speak to Aria, to explain to her that which the dour mare really didn’t care to know. She even had Misses Clouds deliver to her a long, drawn out letter of which Aria only read a few words, something about an “agreement” with Swift and a “negotiation of freedom”. All naive rubbish that no longer mattered. The entire letter was immediately torn to bits and tossed to the wind. How could Cirrus say these things to her thinking that Aria would not recall every horrid aspect of that unspeakable picture, down to the smallest detail, down to the tiniest glimmer of the satiated smile that she’d seen on Cirrus’ face before she had called her name? It wrecked her. The images of that smile would not fade from her mind, so much that she could no longer bear the thought of her knowing that fiendish stallion had played her so effortlessly. Perhaps it was, in some ways, selfish on her part, but nopony, if they had been privy to her personal feelings for the other mare, could have denied that it wasn’t completely understandable.

She closed her heart off, then. She made herself an iron-clad wall for the sake of any other pony that might fall prey to the dark stallion. Bit by bit, she had to admit that Swift was pulling her apart. Now, he had even found a way to control her ability to love. Lest he completely destroy her heart, she committed herself to never acting so foolishly again.

Her mouth, by this time, had sunk below the level of the tub water. Blowing lazy bubbles as she let this memory fade from her mind, she considered Clouds’ proposition, wondering what woes would befall Comet Racer if Swift were to find out about him. She scoffed to herself, spurting water as a radical notion came to her. Why should she care about Comet Racer? She didn’t love him, and certainly Misses Clouds had not supposed that she should. He was simply a means for escape, a feasible out. If courting Comet Racer could bring her freedom, then wasn’t that all that mattered? Wasn’t her freedom what would bring her the most happiness? If the plan failed, then none of it would have to matter; for, no greater harm or benefit would come to Aria that was any different from that which she had been enduring for years. Certainly, there was no detriment in making a fresh attempt at a covert escape. She didn’t have any other plan of action at the moment, anyway. After a beat of silence, Aria turned her head toward Clouds.

“Alright. I’ll do it.”

Clouds’ audible sigh of relief echoed throughout the empty bath house as she finished with Aria’s mane, and laid the shiny length back down across one of her shoulders.

“That is a relief to hear, Miss. Truly it is,” she breathed, trying to stifle an overjoyed laugh.

Now, moving with more gusto, Misses Clouds picked up a scrubber, and trotted again to Aria’s side. Lifting one of the mare’s hooves, she began to scrub the thing shiny. Aria, whose injured eye had now healed enough to open, stared at the elder pegasus, and then groaned in exasperation.

“Clouds, what are you doing? You know they’re just going to get dirty again once I go down to the kitchen.”

“Just putting the finishing touches on you, Miss Aria. That’s all. Never know when you might meet somepony nice,” Clouds blurted, trying to hide her very apparent smile. Aria sighed, and rolled her eyes. She did not reply, instead choosing to sink again into the welcoming waters.

Before she headed downstairs for the day, Aria had gathered her long mane into a tail that fell over her shoulder, and was tied with the two pretty ribbons that Madame Rosedawn had gifted to her so long ago. Never revealing how much the two small pieces of silk meant to her, Aria had managed to carry them around all this time without having them confiscated or stolen. She then slipped on a large, bland, tan shawl that Misses Clouds had gifted to her in order to better hide the never-fading bruises upon her body as well as the mark emblazoned upon her flank. The lovely star and forte symbol had come in about a year after the incident with Rosedawn, much to everypony’s dismay, but to nopony’s surprise. Though she personally thought it beautiful, its testimony to her love of song and music was a searing mark of shame upon her in the Mist household. It attested to her inner defiance, and her inability to be dissuaded from what was forbidden to her. Indeed, she could hide her love of song only as much as she could now hide her beloved mark—superficially, with a large, woolen, cloth.

The shawl made her look rather frumpy, but who was she trying to show off for anyway? Poking at her eye to make sure that the bump was mostly gone, she then opted instead to push more mane to the front of her face to hide whatever might be left of the bruise. She then exited her chamber, being careful not to wake the other two maidservants with whom she shared the room.

The vast kitchen was quiet and empty, as it usually was when she entered in the mornings. Promptly getting down to the business of bellowing the cloud hearth hot for cooking, fetching the cooking water, and scrubbing the floor, Aria worked hastily, and in silence, enjoying the moment’s peace she had to herself before the hectic day began. She had been doing this for years now. As soon as she had grown too old to be adoptable, the Lady Mist had made sure to promptly add her to the household staff. Of course, she had been appointed as nothing more than a scullery maid, and knowing Mist, she knew it was unlikely that she would ever be anything greater than that. However, at least now she was being paid—albeit meagerly—for all of the floors she was made to scrub. Of course, it was never enough to buy or do anything extraordinary. It was certainly not enough to somehow purchase her escape; yet, it did bring its small pleasures. Occasionally, she would purchase candy from the street vendors that neared the estate gates. She wasn’t allowed to leave for any reason; so, the money would be passed to the peddler through the fortified bars under the watchful eyes of the Mist household guards. On other occasions, she would purchase reading scrolls from her colleagues who were happy to trade for what little extra funds they could get. Aria’s love of reading was only surpassed by her love for song. As she grew up, she had discovered that, besides her voice, reading made a great way to escape—be it ever so briefly—from her arduous life.

As she scrubbed, she tried as hard as she could to keep the events of the night before out of her mind. Of course, nights spent in the company of Swift were nothing short of abhorrent; thus, this task proved quite difficult. She would not deny that over the years, her mettle had grown stronger, her hide tougher, and after a time, the villainous stallion's blows became but another tick on the list of offenses that she was made to endure on occasion. Where her eyes once avoided his gaze in youth, they had gradually learned to meet them, filled with fury and spite. Where her lips had been sealed shut until ordered by his word to sing, she eventually took small delight in opposing him, defying his command until she could bear the pain no more. Only then would she open her mouth, giving him just a lyric, only a taste of what he so desired. She had thought that she was no longer fearful—until relatively recently.

As she grew into marehood, a few ponies who had proved casually kind to her had, from time to time, revealed to Aria their admiration for what they called her “comeliness”. Of course, she could never understand what it was they had been talking about, and most of the time they only mentioned her looks because they wondered why she never thought to pull her mane out of her eyes, or stop wearing enormous, frumpy shawls about her lovely, slender frame. However, none of these things seemed to matter to her. How could they when, deep down, she knew that her appearances could do nothing to help her? She hadn’t thought to linger on such things until Swift had begun to notice them.

Recently, during their visits, she would find his words far too beguiling, his touches far too suggestive to have been something she had ever dealt with before. Confronted with threats of something new and far more terrifying, she found herself beginning to worry and fret all over again. With ghastly memories of Swift and Cirrus haunting her mind, she would hide from him whenever words on the winds said he was looking for her. She would make sure that she only brought him his meals alone during the day when she would be missed, and if it was suppertime, she would always deliver the meal along with Misses Clouds. She also tried her best to never travel close to his route at night. Knowing this, she had to acknowledge that what had happened the evening before was inevitable. There had been a banquet, like Misses Clouds had explained. It was large, and lasted all evening. Most of the household servants were called away. She had been one of the few exceptions, of course, and it was during her trek to fetch more water for cooking that Swift had snatched her, dragging her off to his dusty cellar whilst her screams went unheard.

Aria smiled proudly to herself as she got up to fetch the piles of bowls meant for the wards’ breakfast. She had not revealed to Misses Clouds that this time around, she had managed to withstand him. Not one of her precious notes ever escaped her throat at his beckoning, even when he had struck her in the eye, making her black out. Surely, the elderly mare would have chastised her, and asked her why it should matter in that worrying tone of hers.

“Just sing him a blasted song!” she would probably say, but Aria knew that Clouds could not understand. Clouds could not grasp that her song was her friend, her will. It was hers alone, and a rare gift if given to anypony else. Swift could never dream of deserving such a precious thing.

Snatching up a giant cauldron, Aria flew it over to the hearth, and plopped it down upon the flurry of swirling, heated air. She then flitted over to the pantry, collected together mounds of fruits, and a large sack of grain, and brought them over to the enormous work table to prep them. Pushing up the edges of her large shawl, she snatched up a sharp blade, and masterfully twirled it upon the tip of her hoof before beginning to chop.

She smiled when the beat of the blade hitting the tabletop seemed to trigger her musical wellspring, instantly lifting her mood. Her tail swished to the rhythm as she began to feel that familiar itching sensation in the spot below her neck. At first she hummed to herself, a habit of caution brought on by having been caught singing far too many times. Her head shot up, a disdainful grimace on her face as she realized that if she could withstand Swift, she could withstand anypony. Besides, the kitchen would be empty for quite a while, anyway.

Into a dragon’s maw with them all!

Throwing caution to the wind, she took a deep breath, parted her lips, and allowed the enrapturing melody to fill the room.

We’ll never see the day,
When they shall let her fly away,
They say.
But they shan’t rattle me,
I know that they shall never see,
What guides my way.

Peels and skins fell to the floor by her hind legs as Aria moved swiftly through the pile of fruit. After she had completed this task, she figured she might as well go ahead, and prepare the bag of oats since the cook had not yet arrived. Tearing the sack open, she then danced, and twirled through the air in the absolute comfort of her own company as she flew it over toward the large, heated cauldron. There, she began to pick up bucket after bucket of the cooking water she had fetched earlier, dumping it into the enormous pot. As usual, she lost herself in her song, never noticing how the air itself began to tremor and hum happily along with her. Likewise, it never occurred to Aria that as she had grown, consequently, the once subtle effects of her childhood voice had transformed into something far more powerful.

Not something to perceive.
Not just some simple ‘Do Re Mi’,
Its something,
On which I can depend.
And every part of me agrees,
It is the key,

The call,
That draws me from those monsters in the dark,
Instantly,
It always whisks me far away.

Once she finished with the water, Aria began to scoop mound after mound of oats into the liquid until the giant thing was filled to the brim with thick, mealy lumps. Flitting high into the air where she knew the cook kept the spices upon a hidden shelf, she quickly snatched up the cinnamon and sugar, and descended again in front of the cauldron, pouring some in bit by bit as it began to bubble. Snatching up a large, wooden spoon, she stirred the pot as she wiped away a bit of sweat beginning to form on her brow.

No matter how they try,
That part of me could never die.
And someday I’ll,
Bid farewell to this grayness.
Someday I’ll cross that open sky.
Soar far away,

When the porridge was done, Aria carefully pulled the massive pot from the heat, and dragged it toward the long work table. There, she laid out endless rows of bowls in the blink of an eye, and carefully began to pour a heaping helping into each one, tossing a medley of fruit atop the portions as she went.

I guarantee,
Someday I’ll see that sunset on the sea,
Fair and free,
Forget my troubles in good company,
Finally,
Just me,
And my melody.

She never noticed how the very air had seemed to catch a fire with song until after the melody had finished, and the pleasant itch on her chest had begun to fade. Tilting her head back in a state of euphoria, she took a deep breath.

“That one is worth keeping,” she snickered to herself, confining the tune to the catalog of her memory.

The kitchen’s back door slammed hard, making Aria gasp, and hop back into alertness. Hoping that whoever was lurking there in the shadows had not heard her entire tune, she quickly turned about, and finished filling the rest of the bowls, putting on a pretense that she had been concentrating in complete silence.

“Morning!” she called anxiously, now assuming it was the cook, Bellypuff, as she heard slow hoofsteps begin to approach.

“You’re in luck today, Mum,” she said, forcing a nervous laugh as she heard the figure move to stand directly at her back. “It seems I lost track of what I was doing, and already finished up the wards’ breakf—”

A hoof came down hard upon her shoulder, and spun her about. She felt her stomach drop as she peered into two, flaming red orbs hovering over a sinister grin. Retreating quickly away from them, she backed up against the table, nearly tipping over some of the bowls in her wake.

“What are you doing here?” she murmured, eyeing Swift over with disgust. His grin only seemed to grow wider.

“My job,” he said flatly, as he began to circle the table. “I happened to be completing my rounds as I passed by, and swore I heard the faint traces of a song on the breeze. It seemed I was correct in my suspicions.”

He paused on the opposite side of the table, directly across from Aria. Looking her over, he noticed that she was not covered in bruises and welts.

“Clouds patched you up quite well this time, didn’t she?”

“Yes, she did,” Aria spat. Swift ground his jaw at this.

“You should really be more careful, Love—”

“Don’t call me that,” Aria growled, her purple eyes burning. Swift stared at her for a moment, and blinked before taking a deep breath, and continuing on his trek about the table. He seemed to be busying himself with inspecting the bowls she had prepared.

“You should really be more careful, Aria. Somepony less forgiving than I might have heard you.”

Aria retreated down the length of the table once more as Swift made a beeline directly toward her.

“Less forgiving,” she scoffed, a defiant smile spreading across her lips. Swift, noticing this, breached the rest of the distance between them, and continued to push on until he had cornered the mare up against the cold wall. Pressing herself hard against its surface, Aria turned her head in an attempt to get away from the sensation of Swift’s hot breath against her skin.

“What do you want?” she asked, a twinge of desperation betraying her show of courage. She shut her eyes tight as she felt him bring his face so close that his lips brushed against her cheek. Her legs threatened to collapse from under her.

“I want…” Swift began, enjoying the sight of the mare cowering before him, “...supper.”

The dark stallion pulled himself away from her casually, and stood there, a smug smile upon his face. He seemed to draw delight from Aria’s current expression of confusion.

“Delivered by you, of course, and only you. You can spare me the sight of that fat, gawking, matron, or any other of your bird brained companions. I just want you.”

Aria blinked, and let loose a spiteful laugh.

“Do I look like a fool? I’d much sooner be whipped.”

“That could be arranged,” Swift stated matter-of-factly, inspecting one of his enormous, worn, hooves.

“I don’t care,” Aria continued. “The answer is no.”

Swift’s eyes seemed to spark as he turned to face her, closing the distance between them once again until they stood nose to nose.

“You shall, or else the Lady Mist will hear about your little performance.”

“She cannot do anything to me,” Aria retorted, her eyes never wavering as she glared back at him.

“No, but I can,” Swift snarled, reaching out to wrap his hoof around Aria's neck, pushing himself up against her.

“Get off of me,” she croaked, struggling to push him away to no avail.

“If you haven’t noticed, Mist obliges my every whim under pain of destitution, and we both know that the “Lady” could never allow that. Either you come to me tonight, or she makes you come, but I’m afraid I shall have to express my deepest displeasure if you force my hoof toward the latter.”

“I’m not afraid of you anymore, Swift,” Aria breathed, her voice clearly shaking.

“Perhaps you should be. Perhaps you should extend some of that fear toward your beloved Matron… or the children,” Swift murmured, grinning wildly as he watched Aria’s eyes go wide.

“You shan’t harm any of the wards or Clouds,” she growled under her breath, fresh fury in her gaze. The dark stallion gave a smug huff.

“Well then, it would seem we have come to an agreement, hm?”

Aria said nothing as, gradually, her eyes fell from Swift’s horrible grin, toward the floor. A beat of silence passed between them both before, with much hesitation, she nodded her head.

“Good mare,” he said, tracing the length of her mane with his hoof. Reaching down, he ran his hoof across her tail, curled it around to grip it, and gave it a quick, cheeky tug before turning toward the table where the wards’ breakfast sat. As he passed by to trot toward the door, he made sure to swat a few bowls off of its surface with his tail. He laughed to himself as they shattered onto the floor, spilling their contents everywhere.

The mare held her position against the wall until she heard the back door slam shut, after which she slid in defeat down to the floor. Burying her face into her hooves, she sat there, allowing her mind to sink into a deep fog. Perhaps, for a moment, she could once again forget where she was, and what she seemed fated to endure.

Suddenly, a thought, a blazing hot flicker, flashed before her eyes.

“Comet Racer,” she breathed to herself, quickly jumping to her hooves with resolve. Then racing toward the pantry, she pulled out some flour. Dragging it over toward the work table, she shoved aside some of the bowls, then fetched some water, and a myriad of other ingredients. Tossing back the edges of her shawl once again, she set herself to work. There was very little time before the cook arrived, and she simply had to be finished before then.

___

The back courtyard was mostly empty this early in the morning save for the random main household servant here and there. Aria pulled her shawl tighter around her body to stave off the cool morning air. Between her teeth, she clenched a large item tied with a pretty piece of scrap cloth. Quickly, she trotted off in the direction of the cloud gardens, knowing that Comet Racer, being a stocker for the Mist household, would be bringing in goods by one of the small back gates.

Flying over a particularly large mound of cloud, she looked down toward one of the gates behind the garden, and spotted two ponies standing there. A passing guard below saw her flying above him, and immediately called out to her.

“You there! Blaze! You know the rules. No flying outside of the buildings! Get down, now!”

Aria rolled her eyes, and slowly descended until she was standing in front of the guard. He continued to glare down at her. She did know the rules, namely that all of the Mist household guards were ordered to take particular care to keep her from flying about whenever she was too close to the gates, fearing an escape. They often claimed that the rule applied to all of the pegasi who occupied the Mist household, but Aria knew better. If there was one thing that was completely and utterly absurd to say to a pegasus, it was that they were forbidden from flying.

Stupid, mindless, brutes.

“Beg pardon. I forgot,” she hissed through her teeth, passing him a very forced smile before trotting off past him in the direction of Comet Racer.

As she approached Comet, whose back was facing her, she noticed that he seemed to be energetically discussing something of great importance with the other stallion standing before him. Aria caught only a few words before the stranger gestured to Comet Racer that somepony was approaching.

“Yes, I’m certain nopony has seen this except for me,” the stranger had said as he passed Comet Racer something that looked like a thick, plaid-decorated money satchel. Comet Racer snatched the thing, and hid it inside of one of the pockets of his shirt.

“Good, the rest shouldn’t be a—”

This was when the stranger had cleared his throat. Aria stood before them patiently, eyes turned down toward the clouds, the decorated sack hanging from her teeth.

“Hey, isn’t she that mare who—” the stranger began quietly to Comet Racer.

“Aria?” Comet interrupted, giving her a quizzical look. “W… what are you doing all the way out here?”

At the announcement of her name, a guard who had previously been standing back to the side of the open gate doorway, quickly slid himself into place between the threshold to block any potential path of escape. Again, Aria rolled her eyes. Forgetting the guardspony, she cleared her throat, took a deep breath, and approached Comet Racer until she was standing directly before him. She felt her cheeks going red as she put the package down gently in front of him, not knowing what to do next.

She had never been too good with the ways of showing romantic affection. Situations like this one would probably always feel strange and unnatural to her. Nervously gathering her shawl about herself, she took a deep breath, looked into Comet Racer’s eyes, and forced out something as close to a beguiling smile as she could muster.

He seemed to get the hint, and gave her a pleasantly surprised grin of his own.

Thank the stars.

Clearing her throat one more time, she walked near enough for him to smell how the morning air clung to her mane. Then, she turned and headed further on down the gate, back toward the garden. As she passed, she deliberately made sure to let her tail wrap itself around his hoof, ever so slightly. After she had cleared enough of a distance, she heard both of the stallions let out a great exhale.

“By thunder, that’s some mare. How did a dud like you manage that?” the stranger said before being jabbed in the gut by Comet.

“Shut it, will you? She can still hear you, you idiot,” the red stallion chided his companion. Aria smirked.

The rest would be simple, practically a waiting game. She knew that Comet Racer would love the cakes she had made for him, and inevitably come to her again to return the cloth she had wrapped them in. She would then simply rinse and repeat, laugh at his jokes, laugh at his friend’s jokes, hopefully share at least one interesting conversation with him, and then, probably after a kiss that he definitely wouldn’t deserve, he would insist that she come away with him next month. It now seemed more fortunate, in her opinion, that he was a tradespony. She knew that Comet often used many big carts, crates, and boxes to carry his wares back and forth. Perhaps she might even be able to fit herself inside one of them to get out. It seemed, most certainly, to be a rather good plan.

She smiled to herself as she daydreamed about her inevitable victory over Mist and her minions, never once noticing a dark, grim figure lurking in the distance atop a tall puff of cloud. She was snapped back into reality by the sound of heavy hooves, and her neck craned in its direction just in time to see a dark, violet tail disappearing over the mound. Pondering to herself a moment, she shrugged off a strange and sudden feeling of unease, and quickly headed back up toward the wards’ quarters.

___

“Be seated!” the headspony bid the endless rows of children as he stood before them. Immediately, and in one, mechanical motion, all hundred or some odd foals took their seat. As Aria stood at the rear of the hall with the rest of the kitchen help, waiting to serve the food she had prepared, her eyes darted about the room, eyeing the young ones. What Swift had told her in the kitchen earlier had startled her more than she had realized. Remembering those dark days from her childhood, she couldn’t help but wonder and fear the notion that Swift might possibly be tormenting other young wards at the orphanage. Scanning for bruises or a hint of any silent whimpering, Aria never noticed her name being called.

“Blaze!” shouted the head cook, Bellypuff, a large, round, and quite fearsome green mare. Aria gasped, her head spinning about just in time to catch her tossing a stack of bowls toward her back, and then shoving another into her mouth. Having had much practice balancing the dishes, Aria grunted a sharp, indecipherable apology before turning to head toward one long row of hungry children, all of them eyeing the balanced bowls atop her back hungrily.

Passing each one out quickly, Aria had finished with the stack held between her teeth in no time. Fluttering over to the opposite side of the long row, she began to pass out the ones balanced atop her back. Strangely enough, her gaze never directly met with any of the wards’ eyes. Something about them made her uncomfortable, especially those who were slightly older in age. She didn’t know why, but it almost felt like they were able to see right through whatever small authority she might have pretended to wield because of her adulthood to the battered, morose mess of a filly that still remained buried somewhere inside of her. Their gazes always held this twinge of wonder as they watched the pretty, shawl-draped pegasus pass their way. Perhaps they wondered why she was deigned to hold the position of the lowest staff in an estate orphanage. Maybe they assumed that it was because she was hiding something unforgivable. Or maybe some of the staff rumors about the history of her voice and subsequent imprisonment had found its way to the children’s ears.

The bowls clinked as they began to shake between her teeth. A bead of sweat rolled down her forehead. The eyes—She couldn’t bear them. As she came to the end of her table where a small colt, one she had not seen before, sat waiting eagerly for his breakfast, she breathed a sigh of relief. Quickly plopping down the bowl in front of him, she began to march away. A tug upon her tail stopped her dead in her tracks.

Not expecting the sensation to be so reminiscent in her mind of the lewd touches Swift had forced upon her earlier that day, she spun around to find the little colt holding tightly onto her tail with his teeth. He stared up at her warily.

Her mouth curled in upon itself until only a small hint of a line lingered below her nose. The rose in her cheeks seemed to drain away. She found that she had no words as the strangest sensation of anxiety descended upon her. She felt as if the entire room could somehow see those horrible things Swift had done.

“Mum,” the colt began in the most cautious of voices. “This bowl has a crack. M-may I have another?”

The child seemed to wither in Aria’s line of sight as he saw her violet eyes go wide. At once, the only thing she could think to do as more sweat rolled down her neck, was to yank her tail out of his grasp. Her lips quivered for just a moment before a sharp intake of breath.

“Don’t touch me,” she hissed.

At once, the low din in the hall ceased as all eyes turned to stare at the fuchsia mare. The small colt shrank into his seat in fear, nearly disappearing beneath the table itself. This only worked to rile her up even more. Taking a step backward, her eyes darted about the room. Words bubbled in her throat, and began to rise. As if acting of their own accord, her lips moved again.

“Don’t any of you ever touch me! I do not like to be touched! And why do you all look at me in that way?”

“Miss Aria!” the headspony huffed as he slammed his long wooden staff into the floor, insisting on her silence. Her eyes darted toward his direction.

“Is it that you think I do not notice? That I don’t know what it is you say about me when my back is turned?”

The distressed mare never saw Bellypuff inching toward the great hall doorway behind her. At once, the large cook darted through the threshold, and down the corridor, calling a name that Aria could not determine.

“Miss Aria, I will tolerate no more of this insolence!” the staff-wielding stallion shouted as he made his way toward her. “You are dismissed! Retreat to your chamber at once!”

Trotting up to her, he moved to grab her by the shawl, and drag her toward the door. She snatched the cloth out of his teeth, and backed away. The faint hints of a tremor could be seen coursing through her hind legs.

“I said get off of me!” she screamed, clutching the cloth around her body even tighter. The stallion’s eyes went wide, startled by the mare’s outburst. It seemed his loss of control over the situation had become clear as a few of the younger wards then began to cry. Aria reeled at the sound. Panic overtook her, and she spun about, unable to spy her own exit through her increasingly blurred vision.

“Aria!” a voice called to her through the fog.

“Stay… stay away,” she gasped, fighting off a powerful wave of nausea.

“Miss Aria Blaze!” the voice shouted again as Aria felt a hoof come across her jaw—hard.

The sting of the blow seemed to knock the instinctive panic right out of her, bringing her back to her senses. Turning about, wide-eyed and breathless, she was stunned to find Misses Clouds standing before her. Bellypuff lingered silently at the elder’s side.

“That will be quite enough!” Clouds huffed, staring down at her. “Come with me!”

As if for the very first time, Aria glanced about the room at all of the gawking, horrified eyes trained upon her. A few of the foals had moved to hide beneath the table whilst many more of the servants whispered amongst themselves.

“I…” Aria stammered, meeting Clouds’ gaze again. Before she could get anything out, she felt her stomach turn, its contents rushing up through her gullet. Shoving her way past the elder pegasus, she dashed through the hall doors, and turned to stumble out into the yard.

Author's Note

Aria's song this chapter 'Call in the Dark' (Vocal Version)

If anyone's interested, the instrumental version is public on my youtube channel, or posted in my blog too.

I'm just going to say here that this was a difficult three chapters to write and it's really f-ed to read. I think I'm gonna go in depth on my blog, but be forewarned, the themes here are quite stressful. But hey, if you're still sticking with this fic then I figure you can handle copious amounts of sad and dark stuff piled up all over the place.

Pawns and Queens

Aria laid upon her sparse bed in the small, drafty chamber she shared with two other maidservants. Her eyes were trained upon the ceiling as she tried her best to concentrate on not retching for the thousandth time. Her purple and green strands of mane had been freed from their constraint, and spilled off of the bedside, onto the floor. For a somewhat pinkish pony, her complexion now casted a slight twinge of green.

Misses Clouds, ever the busy body, bumbled about lighting the oil lamps, and some mysterious herb infusion whose smoke would supposedly work to settle Aria’s stomach. It only proved to make her cough, jostling her insides about like a dropped sack of crabapples. When she was finished, the old mare flew over toward her, descending to take a seat by her side.

Sitting upon one of the other two small beds on the opposite side of the room, knitting what appeared to be the last sock in a matching set of four, was another mare. She was sky blue in color with a yellow mane tied up in a ribbon. As she purled and looped, she tried, unsuccessfully, to hide the nosey glare she was passing in Clouds' and Aria's direction.

“This is all my fault,” Clouds began in that shaky, worried tone of hers. Aria sighed, thankful that her long mane was concealing the fervent roll of her eyes. She mused on the notion that, if it were up to Clouds, she would surely find a way to blame the very existence of evil in the world upon herself. “I should have never let you go down to the kitchen today. You needed your rest, and I just—”

“Clouds, please. This has nothing to do with you,” Aria groaned, all while passing an annoyed and attentive glare in the third mare's direction.

“On the contrary, Miss Aria. It has everything to do with me. I have to tell you—"

"One moment, Clouds," Aria interrupted the old, lavender pegasus with a lifted hoof. She eyed the third mare intently. "Bella, would you give us a moment?"

The blue pegasus jumped at her name being called, and turned to face Aria with a haughty frown.

"Aria, these must be done today. I simply don't have time to spare," Bella replied blowing her forelock out of her eyes. Aria grimaced.

"Well, then go and knit by the cloud garden. It's a beautiful day outside," she posed, trying to feign composure.

"I'm sorry, Aria, I work fastest when I'm in my room. I simply can't have any distractions and..."

As the other mare continued on, Aria felt her temperature rising. These gossipy, young mares always ate up every chance they got to learn more juicy information about Aria, information that they would, no doubt, grossly exaggerate. It had been primarily their fault that the horrid rumors surrounding Midnight Swift and herself were always circulating around the estate. It also didn't help that Bella Blue had been Cirrus Weaver's replacement as seamstress after the mare had been sent away. At once, Aria bolted upward, her pillow clenched between her teeth. She chucked the thing violently toward Bella who it missed by just a hair.

"Get out or I shall knit socks out of your mane, Bella!" she screamed, her eyes on fire. Gawking, the blue mare leapt up, and raced from the room, blocking her head from the threat of another white, puffy onslaught.

Clouds rubbed her head in disappointment as Aria continued to stare at the door angrily. Gradually, the younger mare's breath returned to normal, and she reclined once again onto her back. She sighed, somewhat regretting that she had relinquished her pillow, and was now forced to lay flat. There was a pregnant pause as it seemed Clouds was trying to figure a way to return to the conversation, making a talk that they had a thousand times seem fresh and meaningful. Aria heard her take a deep breath and exhale.

“Miss Aria, please listen to me. Ever since you were a filly, my inability to save you has always been my greatest shame.”

Aria was genuinely surprised by this outburst, but hesitated to reply. She felt a gentle hoof on her shoulder, and turned her head to meet Clouds’ eyes. She saw therein exhaustion and the most genuine look of affection.

“I have been a servant in the Mist house for so long, sometimes I plum forget the meaning of happiness and freedom. Sometimes, I confuse this place and the meager scraps I’m given here for happiness and freedom. But when you came along, Miss Aria, things were different. Even now, I look at you, and I remember again that there’s far better beyond those gates. In your eyes I can see them clearly.”

Clouds sniffed, miraculously managing not to whimper, and brushed Aria’s mane away from her face.

“I’ve wasted my chance thinking myself clever for remaining here because the scars of my past experiences beyond those gates were too much for me to bear. You, Miss Aria, you have the flame that I did not… that many do not. Your scars do not have to define you, but to watch you withering amongst these walls is…” Clouds trailed off, shaking her head to regroup. “If it’s the last thing I do, I shall see that you get away. Then my conscience will finally be clear.”

The older mare’s honesty startled the younger. Perhaps it was her own guilt that forced her to avert her eyes back down toward her bed.

“My life is beyond you, Mum,” Aria murmured, using her affectionate title for Clouds. “Nothing of what has happened is your fault. You cannot continue to blame yourself for these things.”

“No, Miss Aria. Like I said before, I can, indeed!” Clouds replied, very serious now. “You see… there’s something I haven’t… haven’t told you.”

A beat of silence. Aria slowly turned back 'round in her bed to look at the old pegasus through the dim of the little chamber.

“Do you remember the widow Rosedawn?” Clouds murmured as she fumbled with her hooves.

Aria blinked.

“Of course, I do.”

How could she forget? After all this time spent regretting and dreaming of what could have been, the image of Madame Rosedawn had warped, and grown to take the form of a sublime being in Aria’s mind. As she chose to remember it, the mare had been some unexpected shining light, some deliverer of mercy sent to save her, and all Aria had done was muck the entire thing up like the incessant fool she was. It did seem strange, however, to hear that Rosedawn had been a widow. This opened up an array of fresh questions about her in Aria’s mind. Who was her husband? Could they not have foals of their own? Which void within herself had she wanted Aria to fill?

Realizing that she had drifted off into her thoughts, Aria cleared her throat, and glanced again at Clouds. The look of guilt that had washed over the old pegasus caught Aria’s attention, and she sat up on the bed, clutching her belly for comfort’s sake. What could Misses Clouds possibly have to tell her about Rosedawn that would have her feeling so on edge?

“Clouds? What about Rosedawn?”

A silence descended upon the room, so thick one could cut it with a dragon’s tooth. The two stared at each other as Miss Clouds’ mouth gaped open and closed. Finally, she exhaled a great puff of air.

“Miss Aria… over the years… Rosedawn and I have been kee—”

The chamber door swung open with a deafening ‘BANG!’ In raced two mares, Bella, once again, and Daisy, Aria’s second roommate. Skidding to a halt, their necks both drooped as they tried desperately to regain their breath.

“Young mares!” Clouds exclaimed, immediately forgetting the conversation between Aria and herself. “What in the skies is the problem?”

“Comet… Racer!” Bella gasped, pointing out of the door toward the front side of the building. Aria jumped to her hooves at once. Her heart began to race. The nauseous feeling that had been plaguing her, again began to grip her stomach.

“What about Comet Racer?” she breathed.

“Guards... Dismissing him!” Daisy replied.

Before the words could finish leaving the maidservant’s mouth, Aria was already halfway down the corridor, listening to Misses Clouds’ desperate pleas for her return fading into the distance. Racing down the dank, servant’s stairway, she exploded through the front door, and out into the yard. There were numerous servants of all ranks littering the space, some gawking, some whimpering, and some simply whispering amongst themselves as servants were prone to do.

“Hold him! Hold him, you idiot! Get him back!” spat a fully armored guard, directing his subordinates to take control of the raging, red stallion as he bucked, and pulled at the ropes that threatened to bind him. From where Aria stood, she could see clearly the sweat glistening off of his bruised and battered hide, and his single black eye that shone even in the early evening twilight. Comet Racer was yelling something wildly as he fumed, but it was barely distinguishable. Aria, reeling in disbelief, took a few shaky steps forward to get a better listen.

“Bastards, all! I’ll take every last one of you!” Comet bellowed, managing to yank his ropes so as to draw two of the guards closer. With no hesitation, he then headbutted them both out of commission. Unfortunately, the two ropes he managed to free from around his neck were swiftly replaced with four more, and soon enough he was wrestled down to the clouds, completely bound. As the realization that he had been bested fell upon him, his brazenness quickly melted away.

“I demand to see the Lady Mist! Take me to her at once!” the stallion cried, only to be met with the head guard’s hoof coming across his face. Comet Racer staggered, and fell silent.

“That softened you up a bit, didn’t it?” the guard laughed, waving his foreleg to direct his team toward the estate’s open gates along with their defeated cargo.

It was at that time, as Aria took in the entire scene, that unexpectedly, an untouched switch was flipped within her. The sight of the usually brash and confident Comet Racer, now crushed, and being dragged against the ground, and the image of the plethora of household servants not having the decency to stand up for even one of their kind under the threat that the house’s vicious eye might then be turned upon them next, all seemed to fade and become flat. Suddenly, she was looking at a play, something unreal, a moving painting filled with characters that, for as much as she entangled herself in their welfares, could now easily be kept at a foreleg’s distance as she coldly watched them dance about within their canvases. Standing there, she acquired the clearest understanding that fate had not wanted her to be a vibrant participant in the normal achievements and discoveries of life. She asked herself why, then, should she grant it the pleasure of feeling too much for any of what she saw?

Comet Racer had been a means to an end, and indeed, she had not loved him. Even though what was happening to him was unjustified, and even though she might have very well been the cause of the entire thing, she found herself finally able to cede that all of these ponies, these players around her, were nothing but tools. They were pawns whilst, for some reason yet to be discovered, she had been the queen all along. These servants, wards, and guards could be, and were all shifted and uprooted, played and punished, simply for the sake of getting to her, cornering her into submission. She recognized herself as a target, and thus, the one who suffered most, the one who made others suffer. Hence, a grand conclusion was reached in her mind. She reckoned that her own happiness and freedom, her finally getting away from this place, would subsequently free them all.

Lost in a trance, her eyes plastered upon the open gates, Aria never noticed Misses Clouds finally catching up to meet her. When she had, she too faltered and fumbled over her words at the sight of the ruckus.

“Oh, stars. What is this?” she breathed, realizing what was happening to Comet Racer. “Aria, what has happened?”

Aria scoffed to herself at Clouds’ question. Try as she might, she could not quell her resentment for the older pegasus’ naivete. What had happened? After all these years, Clouds still seemed unable to grasp the notion that whoever Aria had known, had touched, had shown affection for would inevitably suffer for it. Eventually, Aria undid the large shawl bound around her slender figure, revealing her scars, bruises, and the mark upon her flank to the world. All of them were testaments to what she had endured over the years.

“I happened, Clouds, but no more,” she said, digging her hooves into the clouds, and spreading her wings as something both radical and beautiful presented itself to her.

Misses Clouds glanced at her in confusion only to catch the mare giving her a look filled with such affection, such sad regret, that it made her heart leap.

“I’m sorry, Misses Clouds. Goodbye,” Aria breathed.

She darted off at full speed toward the open estate gates, spreading her wings. Ignoring the small aches that still lingered, she bounded into the sky as the guards were all bent low, tending to the struggling Comet Racer. They didn’t have the wherewithal to turn, and catch sight of her until hearing the gasps of the household staff, watching as they pointed in disbelief beyond the threshold.

As if she had been preparing for the escape her entire life, Aria’s graceful form could be seen amongst the clouds beyond the gate, moving with purpose. She glanced backward to the guards, and retracted her wings, folding them to her sides. Then, eyes trained gleefully upon the estate for perhaps the first time in her life, she dropped out of the air like a stone, vanishing into the foggy maze of an enormous cumulus floating below. The entire courtyard paused for a moment, struck by just having seen what they thought was the impossible. The head guard was the first to move, raising up, and rushing forward in a panic.

“After her!” he screamed wildly, all but tossing Comet Racer to the side in a forgotten heap.

The only thing she could hear was the rushing of the wind past her ears, and her own belabored panting. The only thing she could see was the extended, puffy white in front of her own nose. So much adrenaline now coursed through her veins that every fiber of her being began to buzz. Aria knew that it didn’t matter in what direction she flew, as long as she flew fast.

She couldn’t say how long she soared before deciding to descend out of the cloud. As she dropped, white wisps gave way to a beauty that she barely remembered—sprawling green.

As quickly as her joy came, it was swept away by the sound of flapping wings, and ferocious shouts coming from behind her. Craning her neck around to take a look, she was distraught to see the armor of the Mist estate guards glinting in what little was left of the day. For a moment, a wave of panic washed over her, and she slowed ever so slightly. Noticing what was happening, she shook her head free of doubt, faced front, and hunkered down against the wind.

Alright, Aria. Time to let them know who it is they're dealing with.

A young guard, swift and slender, was the first to catch up to her. She evaded him easily. Rolling upward into the clouds, and then down to his other side, she then hoofed him in the barrel, sending him reeling. The next to approach was the head guard, a rather large and stocky stallion. Aria felt herself grinning at the thought of the challenge.

“Come on then!” she laughed at him as he struggled to keep up. “What’s the matter? Grown too old?”

“Swift will have your wings for this, mare!” the guardspony shouted as he kept up expertly with Aria’s dodges and evasive rolls in and out of the clouds. They settled into a straight line again, Aria panting for air as she felt the rage rising at the mention of Swift’s name. Glancing down toward the earth, a thick and seemingly endless patch of deep green came into view. An idea struck her, and she grinned mischievously.

“Give Swift this message for me!” she shouted back toward the guardspony before angling her body downward, and tipping herself over into a roll. As she curved upward directly under the guard, her front hoof came careening up into his jaw, knocking him out cold in midair. She continued her roll until she tilted back ‘round and downward toward the endless expanse of treetops. Pushing off in the air with her wings, she sped into a death defying dive. Taking just a moment to glance backward at the guards, she saw them all diverting downward to save their tumbling leader. Laughing to herself, it wasn’t until she broke the surface of the forest canopy that she remembered she had never attempted to fly through a forest before. Twisting out of the way of an enormous branch, she yelped and reeled through the trees before straightening her angle, and slowing her momentum. Even still, she did not escape being hit with snaking vines, mosquitoes to the face, and a mouthful of leaves before she came careening down to the ground.

Sputtering out a gob full of foliage and bugs, she wiped off her tongue all whilst spinning around in the grass, her gaze locked ardently upon the canopy above her. Stumbling into a bush to hide, it took mere seconds for her to notice that no sounds could be heard save for the expansive flora and fauna of the woods. Realizing that she had evaded Mist’s guards, she let out a triumphant howl before racing deeper into the forests.

Night had fallen a few moments before she had dashed into the woods; yet, Aria could feel anything but fear. Around her thrived a glowing and magical world the likes of which she had never seen, a world full of things far different from a cloud, pegasus, or any other creature of the air. In fact, she had already spotted quite a few strange beasts that didn’t have wings at all. She wondered if they found her as odd as she found them.

Walking reverently through the brush, Aria lost herself in complete wonder and awe, drinking in everything she laid her eyes upon. She didn’t care where she went, so long as it was far, far away from Gales. To her, it was impossible to be lost in such a place as this.

She wasn’t aware of how long she wandered; it could have been hours, it could have been mere minutes. At one point, she stopped to sample some of the most delicious-smelling fruits she had ever encountered, growing from a strange vine. The fruit, for some reason, made her tongue tingle, but she decided it was worth it, and ate another soon after. After gleefully chasing a small owl through the brush simply because she could, she came upon some rows of long grass. Peeking through them, she gasped in delight at the sight of what appeared to be a cool and gentle spring. The water glowed, beckoning for her to come closer; however, being ever the suspicious pony, she peered down into its depths with a look of skepticism.

Touching its surface, she verified that the liquid wasn’t harmful to the flesh. Splashing about on its banks, she established that there were no hungry creatures lurking therein. Finally, bending her head down toward the water, she took a small gulp which turned into a large gulp, which turned into ten more. Raising her head up, she sighed in satisfaction before backing away from the pool, and racing to dive into its depths.

Strangely enough, sinking into that calm, deep blue, she felt unlike she had ever felt before—at peace, at home. She couldn’t even recall how it was she knew how to swim, and yet, she moved through the stillness effortlessly. The birthmark upon her chest began to itch as she felt something ebullient beginning to glow within her. As she rose up again to break the surface, for the first time in forever, Aria felt like she had become who she was meant to be, consecrated into the wonderful world that she had been longing for. Blowing caution to the wind, she let loose a brief but beautiful soprano as she kicked about in the water. Doing so, the air went still and silent as the entire blessed night listened to her in awe. Though it had no words, the song was unlike any she had ever sung before. It felt timeless and familiar, almost as if it had been lurking below the surface ever since she was born.

Hours rolled by. Happiness engulfed her. Everything was right and good. A subdued hum escaped her throat as she finally stepped onto the shore, shaking the excess wetness from her long, shining mane. Plopping down near the bushes, she set to work braiding the length over her shoulder. It was only then that exhaustion caught up with her, and she recalled all that had transpired during the course of her day. Almost instantaneously, her eyelids began to droop. Thinking that a plan of action—one that led toward the sea—was needed before she went to sleep, she decided that it would be best to head out first thing in the morning, deeper into the length of the wood. Gales was a floating city after all, as were all pegasus townships. She would have to make sure to make some good distance at first light in order to avoid the place accidentally moving in overhead. Yawning once, she then collapsed onto her side, quickly falling into a deep slumber.

The sound of rustling in the bushes woke her with a start the next morning. Head darting about in confusion, it took her a while to remember where she was. This was understandable since she had never before awoken outside of the estate in the clouds. Still, feeling rather sleepy, she shrugged the sound off as yet another new and strange little creature making a ruckus. She plunked down again, beginning to snore. When the rustle came a second time, more loudly, she darted up into full attention. Glancing around the clearing in vigilant silence, she saw and heard nothing. Still wary, she decided that it would be best if she got a move on.

Trotting up to the waterside to have a morning dip, she dove headlong into the coolness once more, trying her best to confine the pleasant sensation to memory before she left. She reveled in the fact that it was just as enjoyable as the first time she had done it. She closed her eyes, and floated around but a moment before rising again to the surface. Gasping gleefully for air, she swiped away the long curtains of mane that had clung to the front of her face, and climbed out of the pool. After shaking off the excess water, she bore down, spread her wings, and took off into flight over the spring.

The entire day was spent in flight, soaring over the forests. After a while, a hypnotic trance descended upon Aria as she went, watching the small speck that was her shadow racing below her against the green of the trees. She grinned when she realized, amidst the sound of songbirds and rustling leaves, that she was finally free. So, this was what peace felt like. An indescribable calm wrapped itself around her; it was both startling and relieving. There was a strange sense of emptiness, of listlessness that came along with not being under the command of somepony else. There was a slight sense of panic as she realized that her life was now her own to make or destroy. With it came an extraordinary exhilaration, and laughing loudly, she began to dip and twirl in the sky, following those distant flocks of birds toward the horizon.

She had nearly begun her descent as the sun moved halfway through its own decline. Had she done so, she would have missed a sudden glimmering of blue and white at the very edges of her field of vision. Gasping loudly, heart racing, she slowed down her pace, and flapped in place for a moment. Had she seen what she thought she saw?

She began to ascend, pushing her wings and her lungs to the very limit until she could confirm that, indeed, what she had seen was that gorgeous place she barely remembered, the place she often visited in her dreams—the sea.

"Stars..." Aria breathed, trying not to choke on her own words as she allowed herself to float back down. She had finally done it. In a state of shock, she realized that the growing tremor in her shaking wings would not allow her to go any further for the day, even if she wanted to. Besides, there was still quite a trek to make before reaching the ocean, and she would have hated to arrive too late to actually see the sunset as she had imagined on the other side of those gorgeous waters. As she landed gently upon a branch slightly below the canopy, she decided that it would be a good idea to rest there for the evening, and head back out again at first light.

The night seemed to take a most thrilling turn when, whilst looking around for a good place to sleep, she happened upon a cloaked figure wandering through the darkened wood. Using her ability of flight to her advantage, she bounded up onto a branch in order to follow the stranger without being noticed. At first she figured she had been tailed by one of Mist's guards until she realized that the stranger was moving to and fro, foraging for plants, and seemingly unaware of her presence. In wonder, Aria trailed them from up above, interested to better know the ways of wingless ponies.

After a while, perhaps to take a breather, the figure pulled back its cloak, and took a seat against an enormous tree. Aria could barely contain her gasp as she stared down at the odd pony. With its striking black and white stripes, and beautiful golden jewelry, she was quite sure she had never seen anything like it before. Quietly flitting about to another branch to take a peek from a different angle, she watched as the strange pony pulled some fruit out of the satchel it had been carrying, and took a bite. It must have felt rather comfortable because a few moments later, it sighed to itself, leaned back against the tree, and closed its eyes.

Seeing this as her opportunity, Aria quietly floated down to the ground toward the back of the pony, and as silently as she could, edged her head around the side of the tree. A small smile crept up onto her face as she took in a detailed view of the stranger's beautiful fur, its oddly shaped mane, and its sparse tail.

"You know, I can hear you," the odd one spoke up, nearly making Aria jump out of her wings. Stumbling backward in fear, she found herself tripping over weeds and twigs as the stranger peeked amusedly at her with one, golden eye. When the rose-colored pegasus fell hard upon her back, groaning, the creature then stifled a small laugh.

"Are you quite alright?" it asked. "You seem to have forgotten how to use your gift of flight."

"Yes," Aria sighed, rubbing her head until she realized how much potential danger she had put herself in. "I mean, no! I mean... Who... who are you?"

The odd one smirked.

"It would seem that I should be asking you the same. You follow me around, then ask after my name. These woods were my home before you ever came. Some humility could take you far, and might save you a little shame," the odd one replied. Aria instinctively scoffed at the creature's odd style of speaking, but quickly muffled her mouth, knowing that she sounded extremely rude. Cautiously, she took a step forward toward the smirking figure.

"I'm sorry. I'm... I'm Aria. I come from Gales. Excuse my following you. It's just that... I've never walked around off of the clouds before. I'm afraid this is all a bit new to me. I didn't realize there were ponies like... Are you a pony?"

The figure smiled. She seemed to be enjoying this strange encounter.

"I am Zidaya. This is all you need to know," the striped pony said. "Come closer, friend. Let us talk before I go."

With slight hesitation, Aria nodded her head, and moved to sit beside this Zidaya. Noticing the mare's anxiousness, Zidaya reached into her satchel, pulled out a piece of fruit, and offered it to her. Aria declined, still not quite sure she trusted the strange pony. Shrugging, the striped mare then ate the fruit herself.

"Tell me then, Aria. Why have you never left home? You're a full grown mare, and never had desire to roam?" Zidaya asked through a mouthful of juice. Aria rubbed at one of her wings nervously.

"No, I've always had such a desire. I just have never had the opportunity," she lied. "My life has been rather... strange, if you will."

Trying to hide her own embarassment, Aria peered toward the ground, allowing her mane to conceal her face in shadow. Zidaya eyed her knowingly.

"I see," the striped mare said. Eventually, she sighed, glancing upward contently toward the moonlit canopy. "Well, there is no time like the present. That is what I say. Everyday is an opportunity to find a brand new way."

This seemed to lift the pegasus' spirits, and she passed a soft smile Zidaya's way.

"Do you live here alone? Are you hiding from somepony?" Aria asked curiously. Perhaps she might be able to learn something of use in evading the Mist estate guards from this strange pony.

"Yes, I live alone as my kind is sometimes prone to do. In the quiet, I learn powerful things that I never knew. There are secrets in the stillness, here with me and you. Something tells me that you also understand that this is true."

Glancing again up toward the canopy, Zidaya took a deep breath, and closed her eyes, perhaps to take a nap. Following suit, out of curiosity, Aria did the same. She leaned back against the tree, closed her eyes, and sighed, taking in those gorgeous sounds of the night. As the various nightbirds and bugs continued their singing, Aria chuckled as she felt the spot upon her chest begin to tingle, and the wellspring in her mind open up. As to be expected, all awareness of her surroundings slowly melted away, and soon enough, a gorgeous hummed melody joined the sounds of the evening, twisting amongst them, adding to their beauty. She never noticed Zidaya slowly turning to give her a wide eyed look, as she recognized the presence of one able to wield a unique and powerful magic. This look then warped into one of awe and slight fear. As the rosy mare's melody faded away into a contented sigh, the striped mare cleared her throat, trying to still her own breath.

"You do not know what it is that you are, do you?" she asked cautiously. Aria passed her a confused look.

"W... what?"

"Savor the sweetness of our time. For soon she shall have us all in her ravenous eye, and we shall walk toward destruction thinking it sublime," Zidaya finished. "Aria, have you ever heard this rhyme?"

Aria shook her head, a bit put off by the eeriness of the striped mare's words.

"What does it mean? Is it some sort of story?" she laughed, now nervously fiddling with her tail. Zidaya huffed. A conflicted look passed across her face as she appeared to be thinking to herself. Her hoof wandered back into her satchel, and slowly pulled something sharp and shiny from within.

"I wonder what calamities could be avoided if you were simply gone, ending these impending sorrows, ending a siren's song," the striped mare croaked, almost saddened to be saying these words.

Aria's eyes went wide at the glint of the dagger, and the sight of Zidaya strapping it around the base of her hoof. She slowly rose up, and began to retreat.

"What are you talking about? I don't understand! What is a siren?" Aria yelped frantically. Not receiving any reply, she opened up her wings, preparing to fly away only to be caught around the neck by a taut rope. When she looked at Zidaya again, the striped mare was attaching the end of the rope to the tree where, a few moments prior, they had been sitting together as friends. One more moment, and another length flew out to bind all of her legs together.

"Please!" Aria begged as she pulled and wrestled with the rope, unable to get anywhere. "I promise, I shall fly away. I shall never bother you again!"

With such a look of sadness in her golden eyes, Zidaya came closer until she loomed over Aria. The pegasus lay before her, worn out and gasping for air, a look of terror upon her face.

"Why are you doing this?" she whimpered, feeling like a fool for having trusted the other mare in the first place. Zidaya huffed, and seemed to think to herself again.

"Who could have thought that you would be so lovely? Pretty mare, I beg you to please pardon me. What I do, I do for the rest of the world and for thee. I save you now from your own prison of misery, and swiftly send you back to the depths of your beloved sea."

Confused and horrified, Aria could do nothing but stare at the dagger as it rose up into the air. When it began its swift descent she closed her eyes, and bid farewell to all that she had held dear in this small life of hers. At first she didn't notice the 'CLANK!' of metal against metal, but hearing Zidaya suddenly yelp urged her to reopen her eyes. Realizing she wasn't dead, she then glanced around quickly to find two daggers lying nearby. One of the daggers, Zidaya's, lay next to another which appeared more streamline, and had a hilt made of glossy black metal. Gawking in shock, Aria barely had time to try to struggle against her restraints before the striped mare turned angrily toward the brush from whence the second dagger had come. Quickly, she faced the fuchsia mare again. Aria screamed as Zidaya lunged toward her, ready to strike. Suddenly, she felt yet another small gust of air rush past her legs, cutting the rope that bound them. Flying upward, she shifted her body around to dodge clear of the other mare's attack. One more swish of air past Aria's face, and her neck pulled loose, sending her head tumbling backward. She spiraled for a moment before realizing the rope around her neck had been severed as well. Instinctively, she flapped her shaky wings, and rose to a low tree branch.

Not seeing nor caring who her savior had been, Aria flapped hard, forcing herself to stay steady. Bounding off of the branch, she soared high up above the canopy, into the starry, night sky. Hoping that no one on the ground would be able to see or notice her at this altitude, she sped away further over the endless green.

By the time she landed, exhausted and shaken, she was whimpering. Her entire body ached. The night had grown even deeper and quieter around her as she stumbled along. Eyesight blurry and weak, she searched for a suitable place to eat and then collapse. Wearily foraging around for some food in the glints of moonlight that peaked in through the treetops, fortune smiled upon her when she finally stumbled upon an entire patch of blackberry bushes growing beside a gentle creek. Inspecting them in wonder—having only recognized them from reading about them in one of her many scrolls—she cautiously plucked one up with her teeth, and swallowed. Humming to herself in thankful delight as the delicious flavor exploded in her mouth, she collapsed onto her back, gorging herself as she plucked one after another. Wiping her face clean of old tears and blackberry juice, she then took a deep breath, and attempted to calm herself down. Gazing up dreamily at the sky, mouth full of berries, she allowed herself to ruminate on all that she had endured, and all that she had left behind for the first time since she had escaped. Her heart ached at the thought of Misses Clouds, but she knew that the old mare would find nothing but joy in the fact that Aria was now unfettered from her proverbial shackles, roaming the world—free. After the evening's events, however, she could not help but wonder if it was a wise thing to do. It seemed that pain and death lurked around every bend, and it appeared to her that they kept her constantly in their line of sight. Why was it that the one thing that brought her so much joy—her singing—was the one thing that seemed to drive everypony around her mad?

Resolving herself to being more cautious with her voice from now on, she sighed, and turned onto her side, nuzzling into the grass as sleepiness fell upon her like a rock. Even after the trials and troubles of her day, the tiniest of smiles still managed to grace her face as she fell asleep imagining the joy that awaited her once she would reach her beloved ocean. Soon, she had drifted off into a deep slumber to the sound of crickets chirping.

A rustling in the grass stirred her, and she was suddenly aware of the morning sun glinting through the treetops against her closed eyelids. Supposing it just another woodland creature, she grimaced, shook her head, and stretched. Turning to her other side, she attempted to get back to sleep. A strange, shadowy cast blocked out the glimmering light upon her face, and her brow furrowed as she wondered if some nearby pegasus ponies might be bringing rain that day. Yawning, and rubbing the sleep off of her face, she then allowed her eyelids to flutter open. She gasped as her gaze met with two burning, red orbs inset into a dark blue visage. Her eyes went wide.

“Good morning, Love,” Swift growled, staring down at her with a practically hungry smile.

A hoof came down into her face, and her world went black.

The Things We Covet

Author's Note

If you don't care about triggery content then ignore the following because spoilers:

WARNING, because I know some of my readers need it. This chapter contains instances of physical and (somewhat?) sexual violence. Please be forewarned.

The Things We Covet

Swift’s eerie cellar was deathly quiet as he and Aria sat before one another at his dark table. He eyed her over, leaning to one side whilst running his hoof around the base of a large goblet of hard cider. The expression on his face was a strange amalgam of perplexity and disdain for the mare. Aria sat opposite of him, perfectly composed and defiant in spite of her, again, blackened eye. She was wrapped in Clouds' old shawl which had been collected for her as a vindictive gift from the dark stallion. Even still, though sitting there dressed in her clothing of shame, her gaze floated proudly somewhere above Swift’s head. Finally, having had enough of her audaciousness, the stallion grimaced, and sat up straight.

“I ask for supper, and you give me a two day witch hunt,” he stated plainly. “Mare, you try my patience.”

Aria cocked a brow in her usual fashion.

“I thought we both could do well with a little change of pace,” she deadpanned, never once glancing at him. Swift immediately pounded his hoof upon the table, making Aria flinch; yet, still, she sat tall.

“Why this endless impudence? Why can you not see that it is your own stubbornness that brings about your suffering?”

Aria did not respond to the stallion’s rage. He stomped his hoof down harder, bidding her to answer. She sneered and leaned forward.

“Because you are a fiend. Because you are cruel and unjust. There is nothing else to do but be impudent."

Taking a moment to allow the point to sink in, she then sat upright, and straightened her shawl.

"Why did you order the dismissal of Comet Racer?” she blurted, the question having lingered in the back of her mind since her forced return to the Mist estate. Swift stared at her for a moment before inhaling sharply.

“It wasn't I who dismissed Racer. It was the Lady Mist herself. I simply acted upon orders received." The stallion seemed to relish in the confused look upon Aria's face. "You seem to have been expecting to hear a different tale."

"No," Aria lied, still unable to hide her befuddled expression. Swift smiled.

"He was a thief. He stole a satchel of gold bits out of the estate vault,” he stated, running his hoof over the rim of the goblet again.

“You lie,” the mare hissed. The stallion's amusement seemed to fall away in lieu of irritation.

“Indeed I do not, Miss,” he retorted. After a beat, he stood, and marched away. When he returned it was with a satchel hanging from between his teeth. The bulky thing was printed in a plaid fabric, the one Comet had been collecting from his companion two mornings ago by the wall. Dropping the satchel down upon the table, yet another pouch spilled forth out of the first. Upon inspecting it, Aria found the Mist family seal printed clearly upon its side. Quite skeptical about the implications of all this, the mare shook her head.

“This is a ruse. None of this is proof of anything. You could have stolen both of these from their rightful owners.”

Swift gave her an exasperated look. His countenance went grim.

“And why, in your opinion, Miss Aria, would I do such a thing? Do you suppose I have been given reason to take up disfavor with Comet Racer?"

Again, Swift's crimson eyes bored into her, studying her, waiting for a slip up. She shook her head, and again looked to the floor. The stallion's eyes narrowed.

"I can admit that I have many faults, but being a liar is not one of them. I cut the satchel off of him myself in front of the entire staff. You may ask any of them.”

“Th... that cannot be,” Aria stammered, her eyes darting as she remembered back to two evenings before, the servants whispering to each other, not stepping forward to help the struggling Comet; and Comet and his friend’s strange behaviour when she had startled him earlier that day.

“That just cannot be.”

Swift cocked a pitying brow at her, and scratched tiredly at his dark violet forelocks.

“I have been doing this for a while, Miss, and I must say that I am quite good at it. It is of no concern to me what you believe. If you cared to delve into the matter, you would see that I speak the truth. You on the other hoof...”

Aria blinked as the stallion took a moment to produce a beautifully colored piece of cloth from where it had been hidden behind his breastplate. It was the cloth with which she had wrapped her gift to Comet Racer the day before. Her features curled into a grimace.

“What were you planning to do?” he asked plainly.

“Nothing,” she lied.

“Miss Aria,” Swift began matter-of-factly as he stood up, and paced about the table. “Somepony who has lived the life that I have knows a lie when they hear one—an amateur lie, at that. You were planning on seducing this Comet Racer hoping for a route of escape. Does that sound more like the ‘truth’?”

Aria paused, furious at herself for having been so simple.

“Only as much as Comet Racer as a thief sounds like the truth,” she murmured, sounding quite unsure.

“You loved him, then?” Swift asked, stifling a chortle. “A fine pair you two would have made, a sorceress and a swindler!”

Aria did not reply, acknowledging that they both already knew the answer to his question. Her head slumped with exhaustion. Heartbroken, she recalled how very close she had been to her beloved sea. She longed to somehow find herself miraculously in her magical woods, one more time. She yearned for the safe, enveloping feeling of her soothing spring to take away all of her troubles. A horridly invasive sensation began to bore into her when she heard a strange sound escaping from Swift's throat. Her brow furrowed, and she held back a moan as she realized that he was humming the tune she had been singing in the kitchen two days prior—her song of freedom, her song of escape. He was taunting her.

“Why…?” she groaned under her breath. Caught off guard by the pained and weary sound, Swift turned to stare at her.

“Why what?”

“Why all this?” Aria yelled, her eyes darting upward in fresh fury. “Why do you insist on torturing me? On keeping me here? Surely, Swift, somewhere inside of that cold armor, you must still have some semblance of a heart! Why can you not be settled with my absence?”

Swift continued to look at her as if he were entertaining the idea of actually answering these inquiries. With a glimmer of interest in his eye, he took his seat, and leaned forward upon the table.

“You used somepony as a means of obtaining some reckoning for yourself, have you not?” he asked her again calmly. Aria still found it a difficult thing to hear. “If this is the case, then we seem to be more like-minded than you may think.”

Aria’s eyes went sharp and livid.

“I am nothing like you,” she hissed. Swift worked his jaw, and after a pause, continued.

“I was like you once: on fire, stubborn as a mule, sure about my future prospects, and those of the ones that I once held dear. Then came that noble wench, Mist.” He took this opportunity to down his goblet of hard cider, and then pour himself another. “With her incessant conniving, and her seedy relations, she took that… them all... away.”

A look that Aria had never seen coming from Swift swept across his face. It was a look that seemed to signal the remembrance of old woes. At once, the gauntness of his appearance, the weary and tired shadows around his eyes became glaringly apparent. Aria found herself wondering just how much the stallion had changed from that rumored, shining hero the other servants claimed he once was.

“But because of you, I came to know joy once more,” he said with fresh determination in his voice. “Because of you, I have retrieved from the depths some semblance of myself again. You wouldn’t very well expect me to just give that all away, would you?”

He laughed as if the thought of keeping her captive would have made perfect sense to anypony. Aria’s features twisted in disgust as she watched him down another whole goblet of cider.

"You're just fortunate I was there when that deranged, babbling forest-dweller attempted to run you through," he mumbled to himself, half distracted by the fact that he was now trying to pour more drink from an empty bottle. Aria's entire face drooped in shock, her eyes blinking in confusion.

"Th-those daggers... That was... you?" she breathed unable to make sense of somepony she utterly despised being so quick to save her life one minute, and then strike her unconscious the next. Swift didn't answer as he was too eager to rush off, and retrieve yet another bottle of cider. Upon his return, he popped it open, and opted to drink straight from the container itself. Aria's conflicted emotions clashed only briefly before the overwhelming part of her that hated the dark stallion won out.

"Well, Swift, it would seem that you have saved my life," she murmured, then motioning up toward her blackened eye, and the dismal room that surrounded them both. "And here it is in all of its splendor. I hope you weren't expecting any sort of gratitude."

Swift chuckled in that gruff, grating voice of his as he wiped the moisture from his chin.

"Of course I wasn't, Miss Aria. That would be something quite unbecoming of you, and to be honest, something quite useless to me," he said taking another swig of the drink. "As much as it would delight me for you to return my affections, even I, being a stallion of reason, must concede that this would be highly unlikely at this point. Am I correct in saying so?"

Aria sneered in spite of the smug smile upon his face.

"Absolutely," she hissed slowly, hoping the vitriol in her reply would cut into him like a knife. To her dismay, Swift's smile only grew brighter. His crimson eyes glistened under the powerful spell of drink.

"I saved you because you and your voice are precious to me, something that I cannot live without," he continued calmly, pouring a portion of drink into the goblet, and sliding it to sit before Aria. She did not touch it.

"You mean only my voice," the mare corrected him, pushing the goblet away toward the center of the table.

"On the contrary, Miss," he said with ease, now taking the opportunity to wrap the decorated cloth Aria had given to Comet Racer around his hoof. "You, as well."

Aria made a noise filled with disgust and ridicule.

"How quick you are to break and destroy that which is so precious to you," she scoffed.

"I don't particularly enjoy doing those things," Swift said, leaning back in his seat. "I take no delight in it. However, I'm afraid that from the very start, you have shown me that these things are, indeed, a necessity. All that I have done, I've done to get what it was that I needed, just as you have."

Aria now looked absolutely incredulous. She leaned forward, pounding her hooves upon the table.

“I would’ve never hurt anypony. I would never try to...” she stifled herself, quickly sifting through years of horrible memories. “...I don’t do the things you do.”

“Don’t you?” Swift laughed. “You did it to Comet Racer. You drew him in, were willing to allow him to love you, yet were so quick to leave him in ropes, right there by the gate, being dragged to his punishment, were you not?” Swift seemed to delight in the disquieted look that crossed the mare's countenance. "Be honest with me just once this evening, Miss Blaze. Do you truly care what has happened to the stallion? Did you think of him even once while you were out there, flying through those forests? Does it matter to you where he is now? If he is even still alive? When you thought you were the reason for his misery, did you care at all?"

"Stop it," Aria hissed.

"Did you?" Swift exclaimed, urging her to reply.

Aria contemplated the questions if only to prove to herself that he was wrong. However, as she mulled them over, to her alarm, she found that the first and only feeling that she got while picturing Comet's face was slight guilt. That was it. Her heart didn't swell for the want of his safety. Tears didn't fall for fear that he might be harmed. For all intents and purposes, she had practically felt nothing. After all, he was just another figure in a flat painting, a pawn amongst those who were mightier. An uncomfortable silence passed between the two figures sitting in the shadows as Aria found she could not look at the self-gratifying grin now on Swift's face.

"I didn't think so," the stallion said. "You need your freedom with a burning passion, don’t you? You do not wish to concede that, given the opportunity, you would do anything, hurt anypony you had to for it.”

“No,” Aria breathed, shaking her head as if to convince herself. Swift cocked an amused brow at her.

“These things have a way of crescendoing,” he stated, inspecting the delicate cloth wrapped around his hoof. “One day, the consequences of our actions may bring about the dismissal of a few servants, perhaps a good whipping or two. Before you realize it, you find you have learned to care far less for being the cause of far worse, all for a taste of that single, glorious, coveted thing.”

Aria sat there in silence, lost in her own head. Was it possible that what the stallion said to her had been the truth? Was it possible that anypony, even she, might carry in them the potential to become the type of monster that Swift was? Could she do the type of things he had done, all to get her way, her due piece of happiness? Eyes slowly rising to meet his, she was distraught to find that, now, she could no longer imagine Swift without separating him from his evil. To her, the worn, hollow-eyed stallion had begun to look as depleted and drained as she had felt. A horrible tremble traveled up her spine as she recalled Misses Clouds' warning about allowing herself to sympathize with the scoundrel. She knit her brow, and again looked defiantly toward the floor.

"M...my desire for freedom... is not the same as your obsession with me," she murmured, only hoping that she was actually right.

"You are my freedom. It is the same thing. The evidence of this is what we would be willing to do to obtain the things we want," Swift mused, absent-mindedly drawing one of his black hilted daggers from its scabbard, and rocking the shining thing between his hooves. He grinned when Aria's mouth drew up into an unsure scowl.

"You're raving mad," she mumbled beneath her breath, sniffing at him in scorn as she glanced off to some far corner.

Sensing the weakness in her will, Swift stared at her for a moment, his eyes flaring up before he took a deep breath, and made his way to the other side of the table. He moved to stand behind her. Reaching out he brushed the mane away from her nape, and brought his own face close. The mare edged away in disgust.

“You are my glorious, coveted thing,” he said, bringing his hoof up to hook around her shoulders, “and I shan’t ever let you or your song go.“

“They were never yours to release, Sir," she hissed disdainfully, even as he grazed her jawline with his lips. "And you shall never have either without great difficulty." She craned her head away from him. Not strong enough to resist his grip, she cringed as she felt him kiss the pulsing flesh of her neck.

“So be it, but make no mistake. I shall have them,” he breathed into her collar, sending one wandering hoof down her side, under the hem of her shawl, and ever so slowly, up the innerside of her hind leg. Aria jolted aside, shoving his hoof away. Fed up with the stallion's antics, she whipped her head around to look at him, and at once, spat in his face. She glared at him, pure insolence in her eyes. Holding her tightly, Swift gazed back, peering through his frazzled forelock. His entire aura grew incensed. At once, a grim shadow seemed to darken those burning eyes of his as if he were caught in a sudden trance. He huffed, winding his hoof onto the cloth of her shawl. Then snatching the entire thing from around her, he tossed it unceremoniously to the floor. Aria's gaze remained unmoved as she gulped down a dreadful lump that seemed to rise into her throat. A sickly look befell her as a beat of horrible understanding passed between them both.

Bounding upward, she hoofed Swift across the muzzle. Then, kicking the table into his path, she made a quick dash toward the door. Reeling for only a split second, Swift easily leapt over the obstacle in his way, and caught her in his teeth by the tail. She fell hard against the floor. Scraping and struggling for freedom, the terrified mare gazed in horror at her own shadow writhing desperately against the dark and eerie walls as she was pulled back into the gloom. Flipping her around to face him, Swift loomed over her, planting both of his hooves to either side of her downturned ears.

Huffing to regain her breath, she watched him wipe away the blood she had drawn from his face. With that glazed expression of simmering fury, he then slowly brought his nose down against her barrel to inhale the scent of her. Making a last ditch effort to reason with the deranged stallion, Aria cleared her throat, and did her best to control her own trembling, even as she felt Swift's breath working its way up her belly.

"Y-you are out of sorts this evening," she said, feigning cordiality as she kept her wide eyes directed toward the ceiling. It was a ludicrous thing to say at this point in time, all things considered, but in her desperation, she figured that maybe addressing him reasonably would bring some semblance of calm back into this daunting situation. Taking a chance to glance at his face once more, her stoic expression began to fracture as she saw no understanding there, no mercy at all. There was nothing else but dreadful resolve and determination within those burning eyes. Still, she continued on, even as Swift's lips grazed against her chin, and her voice began to crack.

"Come, let us return to the table, and... and I shall sing for you," she stammered, attempting to push the stallion away with her hoof. Swift easily wrenched it off, and pinned it to the floor. He scoffed, knowing well enough that even in this circumstance, especially in this circumstance, what she offered to him so willingly was nothing but a deception.

"More lies, lies, lies, Miss Aria. On the contrary, I can assure you, you shall sing gloriously before we're through," he huffed with the most venomous of smiles, then reaching upward to unhook his breastplate. With one nimble movement it went clattering into some dark corner. This action heightened Aria's panic. Eyes darting about, she suddenly caught sight of something glinting at Swift's side where it was tied about his barrel. Beginning to reach out toward it, she found that it was just a hair out of her grasp. Desperately, she stretched her foreleg, hoping that Swift would not turn and notice. Finally, the stallion brought his lips up to meet hers. She turned her head away, terrified. The air suddenly became oppressive, too thick to breathe; everything began to spin.

"Swift, if there is anything left in you of the hero that Gales remembers, then for his honor's sake, don't do this," Aria gasped. Swift recoiled ever so slightly, and peered at her, as if taking offense to her words. With his hoof, he forced her face upward once again. Staring into his eyes, Aria found that now the crimson had all gone dark like stale blood.

"Do not speak on things of which you know nothing. I am reviving that stallion," he hissed, then pressing his lips firmly against hers. Aria reeled at the invasive sensation, and the taste of cider upon his tongue. She recoiled at the smell of his sweat. Yearning for air, she suddenly experienced her vision dip in and out. Growing fearful that she might faint, her wings instinctively began the arduous task of pushing her up off of the floor, struggling against the dark stallion. Her hoof now managed to brush the hilt in his scabbard. She was so close. The lights in her eyes dimmed again when she felt him knock her wings out from under her, and pull her haunches upward. With one rapid motion, he dragged them up against him. Heaving as she felt his weight bear down upon her belly, Aria made one final effort to reach forward, and knock Swift's blade from its sheath. Pounding upon the hilt, it flipped in the air, and landed upon her shoulder where it cut a small, bleeding scratch into her flesh. It then fell to rest beside her head. She saw Swift's brow furrow in confusion at the sight of the blade. As she attempted to reach out to clasp the thing between her teeth before he could snatch it up, the sound of the world around her faded away, only to be replaced by a singular, pulsing note. A bright, green light flashed before her eyes before everything around her seemed to vanish into nothingness.
___

A blood-curdling shriek echoed throughout the rear courtyard, loud and piercing enough to wake the ever wary Misses Clouds from her slumber. Befuddled by grogginess, it took her a moment to realize that the shriek had not been just any ordinary scream. There had been a strange timbre to it, almost as if it were flowing, echoing, like a whistle or a musical note. Eyes going wide with sudden realization, she bounded from her bed, raced out of her chamber, and down the servants staircase; out into the back courtyard she ran.

“Aria? Miss Aria, where are you?” she cried into the darkness, eyes darting around, searching for the source of the screaming. A horrid notion occurred to her. If she had heard Aria like she thought she had, then that meant the guards had found her, and brought her back. There was no way in which Clouds could figure why she might return to this horrid place if she had actually managed to evade them. If this was the case, then she knew who had her. Quickly, she turned to fly toward Swift’s chamber door.

She was halfway there with the door in sight when she witnessed the thing violently swing open. The sound was loud enough to stop her dead in her tracks. She suddenly noticed a strange, deathly silence consuming the atmosphere as she watched one, shaky, rose-colored hoof appear from behind the open doorway in the distance.

Aria slipped into the courtyard, kicking Swift’s chamber door shut with her hind leg. With difficulty, she began to drag her hooves across the clearing. Her head hung low. Her long mane was loosened, and disheveled, obscuring her face from the side. As the mare took one small, unsteady step after another, Clouds could hear her quietly mumbling something to herself in a cracked and shaking voice. Glancing down at her path, the old mare realized, to her horror, that Aria was trailing blood. Clouds’ legs went weak, long feared nightmares forcing themselves into her mind.

“Miss Aria?” she croaked almost too quietly to hear. In the distance, the younger mare never halted her slow trek across the yard. It took a moment for Clouds to realize that she was headed toward the wards’ bath house. Watching the mare disappear into the dim lamplight of the building, she soon worked up the courage to follow.

She approached slowly, and as she did so, the sound that Aria had been emitting became both clearer and stranger to the ear. It was too quiet to be crying, too crystalline and pure to be a scream. The words forcing their way through this strange, piercing sound, were indecipherable, but borne on heaving, frantic breaths.

As Clouds pressed herself up against the outside of the door, she noticed a glowing red twinge bouncing from some unknown source onto the empty bath house walls. Inhaling some courage, the old pegasus quickly went around the corner, and gasped in horror.

Aria Blaze sat inside of one of the many tubs, scrubber in her hoof, practically scraping at her flesh with the large brush. Miraculously, around her body, and in a pillar high up into the air above, floated dancing blobs of clear and crimson liquid—blood and water. Her disheveled main hovered about her, swaying of its own accord, now making clear to Misses Clouds the contorted and deranged expression upon the younger mare’s face.

“The stench... The… stench,” Aria mumbled to herself, beginning to scrape away at her hind leg. It was then that Clouds realized that the singular piercing note she had heard was echoing in the air in spite of Aria’s bumbling mouth. How could it be that the two separate sounds were emanating from her at once?

Swallowing nothing, her mouth gone dry, Clouds took a terrified step toward the tub.

“Miss Aria?” she repeated.

Aria’s head whipped around to face her, and it was only then that Clouds realized what the eerie red glow had been. The younger mare’s eyes glowed completely crimson, two searing fires set into an enraged, rose-colored bezel. Clouds paused instinctively, and then willed herself to persevere. She took another wary step forward, outstretching her foreleg, trying not to make any sudden movements as the entranced mare stared blankly at her with those horrible eyes.

“Please, Miss Aria. I just want to help,” the matron murmured as she neared the edge of the tub. Something in Aria seemed to wither, almost as if she recognized Clouds through her bewitched fog. A tear rolled down one of her cheeks as the scrubber in her hoof began to work again, grating against her fur. It didn’t take long for her to begin drawing her own blood.

Contrition, remorse, repentance, and rue,

“Useless,” Aria hissed to herself after a third voice emanating from somewhere within her let loose the frightening melody.

I renounce you all and birth malice anew.

“Get his stench off. Get his stench off me,” Aria repeated in her normal intonation over and over through the haze of hypnotizing noise. As the melodic refrain echoed throughout the air one last time, the younger mare’s expression became like stone. Though Clouds could not see the pupils of her eyes through the blazing red, she knew that they were trained directly upon her. Suddenly, another sound rose up out of her aura, and swirled about in the air. It was a growling—the sound of a large unnameable beast, weaving in and out of the manic melody that echoed off of the walls. The older mare's breath caught in her throat.

Savor the sweetness of this time,
For, now I have you all in my ravenous eye.

“Oh stars,” Clouds whimpered at the younger mare's words. She noticed a shadow, something green and barely visible, beginning to rise up out of Aria's back, and seep from the corners of her glowing eyes. She reached out to touch the mare, but all too late.

Like the breaking of a floodgate, Aria's entire being unhinged. Her jaw dropped open, and a bellowing cry echoed throughout the air as if made by some deranged chorus. The water around her swirled violently as an invisible force blew Misses Clouds backward through the air. Aria watched as Clouds hit the far wall, and fell to the floor before what was left of her vision was blanked out by furious red.
____

Aria awoke with a gasp in the early afternoon in what she realized was Misses Clouds’ empty bed. Taking a moment to collect her bearings, she then shot upward. Tossing about in a confusion, she tangled herself in the blankets before deciding to calm down. Slowly picking her way out of the mass of cloth, she then sat up and took a deep breath. Her brow was knit in confusion as she began to tap her forehead with her hoof, desperately trying her best to account for the transpiring of events the night before. The first thing that flashed into her mind was the image of Swift bearing down over her. Her head began to shake in fear of what she might remember next. Her hoof dragged down the length of her face in dread as she remembered the groping in the dark, pleas gone unheard, the muffling of her frantic breaths with Swift’s own lips, the fallen dagger... Then the memory ended abruptly.

Racking her brain for more, she felt a wave of panic befall her when she realized there was nothing else. It was as if the rest of the memory, between Swift’s chamber and Clouds’ bed, had been completely erased or never existed at all. Fearing the worst from Swift, she wrapped her forelegs around her body. Rocking back and forth a few times, she tried to work up some courage.

Calm down. Think a moment.

Her eye still hurt, though even now she could smell the strong scent of Clouds’ magic balm wafting to her nose. The old mare had patched her up after something or other. Moving her forelegs about, she felt small twinges of pain there, too. For once, she was happy that she still ached enough to gain some sense of what had happened to her as she turned her neck to and fro, and fluttered her wings. Finally, with much hesitation, she gulped down a lump caught in her throat, and brought her hoof down to her lower abdomen. Holding her breath, she pushed down upon the spot, and exhaled a great sigh of relief when she felt no pain at all. Feeling a bit more confident, she moved her hind legs, and found that, save for the ache from wandering about the forest for a day and a half, there was nothing that felt startling or new there either.

“Stars,” she breathed, falling backward into the pillow.

What time of day is it?

She sat up again, realizing that the sun was bearing straight down in the sky. Flipping the covers off of her body, she heard the distinct sound of papers falling to the floor. Pausing a moment, she turned around to see a few scrolls, and loose parchments scattered about on the other side of the bed. Walking toward the pile cautiously, Aria then bent down, and placed them back in order. Flipping over the folded parchment that sat atop of the stack, she discovered, written in large, crooked letters, the words: ‘To Miss Aria Blaze’.

Flipping open the folded paper, Aria absent-mindedly sat back down upon the bed, placing the rest of the stack next to her as she began to read.

My Dearest Aria,

By the time you read this, I will be gone. My favourite, bright-eyed, little ward, I’ve stood by over the years, and have watched as those beautiful lights in your eyes slowly receded because of those who have been judged to be wicked and cruel. Yet, now, after much sorrowful contemplation, I must admit to you, and to myself, my own guilt for adding to your torments.

There is a mare, Madame Rosedawn as you know her, who you met once, many years ago. I think you would agree that was the closest to happiness and freedom that you have ever been until yesterday. I also tend to mark that day as the day on which your confinement to the Mist estate began. I know you rue that day, my little ward. I see the longing in your eyes whenever Rosedawn’s name is mentioned. I must now confess to you, Miss Aria, that your beloved Rosedawn has never been too far away.

All these years, she has never forgotten you. For, you see, she and I have been keeping correspondence in an attempt to find your route of escape. After you were sent away to your chambers on that fateful day, she asked after you, but the Lady Mist refused her. When Rosedawn insisted, she was banished from the estate forever. However, before she departed I managed to steal a private moment with her to ask after her home location. From that day forth, whenever I would go to market, I would have a messenger deliver a letter to her, and she would do the same by unicorn magic. Those well-to-do pegasi do have access to the most amazing resources, I do concede.

She loves you, Miss Aria, and if anypony could and would make a happy home for you, it would be she. Even now, as you have grown into the most beautiful of mares, she would still have you as one would a beloved daughter.

Enclosed here are some of our correspondences, only enough to inform you briefly of what I should have told you long ago. Also enclosed is information I have provided for you from Lady Mist’s own private vaults. It is dreadful, but I feel, necessary for you to know. Be steadfast and strong, my dear Aria. For this crime, I will surely never be able to see you again. After what I have witnessed last night, I know now that we are out of time…

Not taking the time to finish the last part of the letter, Aria tossed it down momentarily, and moved on to the correspondences, all of them littered haphazardly upon small, discreet squares of parchment.

To the Honorable Lady Rosedawn:

I humbly thank you for accepting this correspondence on behalf of our shared and most important of interests. Forgive me if my letters remain brief. I am being watched, always.

Gratefully yours,
Matron Castinette Clouds

Aria anxiously flipped the page to read another.

Dearest Matron Clouds,

My heart goes out to you. I am open to any course of action that you might suggest. The filly has not left my mind since my visit to the Mist estate. It would seem that Aria, in the very short time that I have known her, has become very dear to me. I am at your disposal. In the meantime, I shall converse with my most trusted friends to see what, in the ways of law, can be done to have the child released.

Yours Sincerely,
Rosedawn

To the Honorable Rosedawn:

I am truly regretful that all of my plans to have the child smuggled out of the estate have amounted to nothing. No one would dare cross the Lady Mist, and they fear Swift’s retribution. The filly has now grown too big. I’m afraid this course of action will no longer prove fruitful.

Humbly Yours,
Matron Clouds

Dearest Matron Clouds,

After all these years, my heart is heavy to hear of the torments the filly faces, but I remain as steadfast and determined as ever. Once again, the courts have refused to take up my plea. Those cowardly magistrates tremble at the thought of Mist’s retribution. I fear I have come to an impasse.

How is she? Tell me the potion has given her some comfort.

Yours,
Rosedawn

My Lady,

She is doing much better. The potion helped immensely with her bruises. I thank you for sending it. I regret to inform you, however, that after careful research, I’ve concluded that none of our guards have proven penetrable in their allegiance to Commander Swift. His grip on their will seems to be absolute. I shall persevere onward in my efforts.

Yours truly,
Clouds

Dearest Clouds,

Please give Aria these manepins as a birthday gift for her coming of age. You do not have to inform her who they are from. They are in the shape of stars, just as you claim her mark appears to the eye. I hope she finds some happiness today, and the same to you.

Yours,
Rosedawn

Staring in confusion at the paper, Aria looked around her to see if, somehow, the item of which the letter spoke was dropped. Soon enough, out of the corner of her eye, she saw something flash in the midday light. Bending over to pick the small, shining objects off of the ground, she gasped in awe as she got a better look at them. The manepins were fine, made of silver, and accented with two large gorgeous stars upon each of them. They did indeed remind her of her markings. A small smile spread across Aria’s lips. Picking the letters up again, she continued onward after taking a moment to place the pins into a pocket sewn inside of her shawl.

My Lady,

If only you could see how wonderfully she has grown. Not only is she brilliant, stubborn, a good cook, and sharp as a tack, but also her beauty shines brightly even in the darkest of these gloomy hallways. I am very much proud of the mare she has become, especially under such duress. Unfortunately, I fear that I am not the only pony who notices these things. Many eyes are upon her now, and very few of them kind. We must work faster.

Please send more of the healing potion at your earliest possible convenience.

Yours truly,
Clouds

Dear Clouds,

I fear I’ve made a horrible mistake. I hired private aid to attempt Aria’s rescue. A day or two after doing so, he disappeared. Upon returning to me, I found he had been beaten into confession. He used my name, and Aria’s. I, thankfully, had told him nothing about you. Have you not heard any of this news? I dread what may happen.

Yours,
Rosedawn

My Lady,

I have heard nothing of this. Swift and his stallions are very clever. They are probably withholding this information for a reason. Fear not. I shall keep a watchful eye on them all. Thank you for sending more healing potion.

Yours,
Clouds

At this point, after flipping the page, Aria noticed that the next letter was another written by Misses Clouds. The writing was scrawled, and disordered. What appeared to be tear stains streaked the page.

My Lady,

It appears we have run out of time. She escaped and was caught. My fears have become a reality. Something has happened to our dear Aria. Terrible. Oh, terrible. You must send help. Her eyes, and that unearthly shrieking. Something has happened.

A request. Please return unto me all of the letters I have written to you, including this one, so that I might show her, so that she might understand what has happened. She must know the horrid truth of it all. I will retrieve things from the estate vault. Thus, this shall be the last time I shall write to you. Take care of our dear Aria.

May the spirit of the skies watch over us all.

Farewell,
Castinette Clouds

Her hoof now shaking, Aria turned, wide-eyed, to the final letter lying near the bottom of the pile.

Dearest Castinette,

Tell her to prepare. I am on my way. Go with good winds, my friend.

My eternal thanks,
Rosedawn

A tear fell from Aria’s eye as she took all of this information in. With belabored breath, she attempted to calm herself and think. Clouds was gone, but where? Why? And what terrible thing had she seen? Did it have something to do with why she couldn't remember the events from last night?

By the way she spoke in the letter, it seemed that much of Clouds' mysterious departure had to do with the scroll that the old mare had taken from the estate’s vaults. Perhaps some answers would be in there. Putting the letters down, she picked up the scroll that had been included with the stack, took a deep breath, and unfurled it.

It was some type of ledger. That much was immediately clear. As Aria scanned the document, her eyes fell upon Swift’s name listed for something. The payments written upon the ledger, all of which were marked out as if they had been forgiven, were to Lady Mist as she assumed it might be. Glancing at the dates, the fuchsia mare was surprised to find that they spanned many years, almost as long as she had been present at the orphanage.

She wrinkled her nose in confusion. Rolling through the thick ledger more and more, it seemed almost comical. The prices increased over the years, but regardless, every last one of them was crossed out. Surely, the Lady Mist had written them in simply as a means of nagging Swift in an attempt to make him care about the price he was costing her. It looked like a favour had been done for one or the other, perhaps both.

After a while of rolling, the comedy faded away into a disturbed sense of dread. One had to wonder what could have possibly held the dark stallion’s interest for so long that he would be willing to take up the chance of possibly owing an exorbitant amount of payment for all of these years. She gulped, fighting off a sickening notion beginning to take root in the back of her mind. Her eyes grew red, as she fought off tears, realizing the conclusion to this tale before she had even seen it. Clamping her shaking lips shut, she spun to the end of the reel where a name was listed—her name.

“Ward Aria Blaze,” she repeated to herself, trying to make what she was seeing real in her mind as the tears began to blur her vision. “P...patron… Commander Midnight Swift… T-title holder…?”

She huffed loudly, and closed her eyes, looking away for a moment to compose herself. Scratching her nose as if to hide—from no one in particular—how much distress this was causing her, she picked up the scroll again, and continued reading.

“Title holder, The Most Honorable Lady Fillimene Mist hereby releases the above listed goods, products, and/or services for usage by C...Commander Midnight Swift for utilization at his/her discretion in return for the payments received as listed…”

She dropped the scroll. There was nothing else she needed to see. She crumpled to the floor into a shaking, woolen ball. Clamping her hooves against her mouth, and burying her face into the thick shawl, she let out a muffled wail.

So, there it was. After wondering why she had been confined to the estate for all these years, all along, it had been because she had already been purchased. Not adopted like a beloved child or a skilled apprentice whose papers and payments were signed and relinquished with the utmost contempt, as if the participants couldn’t bear it. Instead, she had been bought like a tool, a pet. All of these years, she had been like a caged bird for Swift to poke and prod for his own obscene amusement. This was why Rosedawn was banished, and forbidden to ask after her. This was why Mist had her locked away after that day. All this talk about her behaviour, all this incessant wondering where she went, the forced songs, the beatings, were never meant to change. She was not a pegasus in their eyes. She was a thing to be used until she broke.

Feeling the bile rising up into her throat, Aria sat up at once, shaking her mind as free as she could manage from her anguish. Sniffing back the urge to break down again, she took a deep breath, and reached toward Clouds’ first letter, the one addressed to her. Blinking her eyes clear of their blurriness, she brought the letter close in order to finish it. She read the words out loud, her voice hoarse, but resolute.

...Please do not resent me, but remember me fondly. All I’ve ever done was in an attempt to help you. Now, you must do for yourself. The others have relayed that you are being punished for running away, and will not be down today. Do not raise suspicions. Only take what is essential. Rosedawn is coming for you. Be prepared.

May your life be filled with all the wonderful things that you deserve, my dear Aria.

Forever yours and with love,
Misses Clouds

Aria hadn’t tears enough for another go ‘round on the grief cloud. It took but a moment for a sense of determined resolution to take hold as the reality of the situation dawned upon her. Moving quickly, she snatched up the letters and the scroll, and bolted from the room.
__

In a grim, dark chamber fortified with gray cloud, two dazed, crimson orbs flickered to life. Midnight Swift groaned, tapping his aching forehead as he rolled over onto his back. He glanced about his chamber. The place was in shambles. Boxes, once towering to the ceiling, had tumbled and cracked open, spilling their contents everywhere. His table and chair were overturned as well as the food and drink that once sat atop of them. Trying to sit up, he hissed as a sharp pain racked his side, and a dull one ached between his hind legs. Eyes going grim as he remembered what transpired the night prior, he quickly forced himself to his hooves whilst muttering to himself.

“Bewitched shrew,” he growled as he stumbled toward his overturned sitting stool. Setting it upright, he took a seat.

Still feeling the sharp pain at his side, he turned to take a look, and spied a large, bleeding laceration on his abdomen. Looking back to where he had been lying, he caught a glimpse of a red-tipped dagger sitting in a small puddle of his own blood. His eyes followed a small trail of crimson as it led from the puddle toward his chamber door. Pounding his hoof furiously upon the table, he took a deep breath, and then set about retrieving the materials to patch himself up. As he did so, thoughts of vengeance planted themselves deep within his demented, delirious mind, and quickly began to germinate.

“Aria Blaze,” he grunted to himself as he gingerly set to work bandaging his side. “At long last, my patience has waned.”

Heat

Aria sat in the back parking lot of the fast food joint behind Cookie’s shop with a half-eaten cheeseburger in hand. A completely burned out cigarette hung from her lips, unsmoked. Around her neck hung some oversized headphones attached to an old portable cd player she had stolen from some hipster garage sale a few weeks back. Her usually half-lidded and unamused eyes did nothing to hide the fact that she was currently lost deep in her own thoughts. Almost as if being pulled by a string, in one, slow motion, her free hand rose, reached toward her opposite side, and touched a hidden patch of darkened skin beneath her arm. She grimaced at the sensitive sensation, and then sighed.

She had the bruise ever since Midnight Swift had given it to her the first time he had ever forced her to sing for him. When she had received it, she was still but a filly, still growing, and far too innocent to have encountered what she had. In the freshness of its youth, her body, like any other aspect of one so young, seemed to have remembered and recorded that first experience of pain upon itself. Inevitably, all of those memories of her harrowing experiences had become attached to that one, hidden, patch of deep purple. Even after she was reborn into her sirenhood, still, that terrible piece of evidence of the cruelty she had endured had never faded. How could Cookie have known what would happen, the horrible feelings that would arise, when she had so carelessly brushed her fingers against it?

Reaching up to the space between her shoulder and collarbone, Aria then rubbed at a place where, very long ago, there was once the scar of a dagger scrape. It was a nervous and subconscious reaction, something she sometimes caught herself doing when everything began to feel too surreal. This was a way to remind herself that her life was something that was really happening, that all of these experiences was what had made her who she is, what had sealed her fate toward chaos, what had forevermore caused her so much secret shame.

The orphanage happened. Swift happened. Those desperate final moments happened. Your hopeless decisions upon that lonely beach happened. Don’t ever get to thinking that they didn’t. They made you. They brought you into your own divinity. You are them. They are you.

Once upon a time, Misses Clouds had told Aria that her scars didn’t have to define her if she didn’t want them to; however, anytime the girl happened to glance at her own otherwise pristine skin—besides the two or three shadows of scars or marks that were left—she couldn’t help but visualize every last scratch, every last bruise that those spiteful, long dead foals, and that brute of a stallion had given her. When she inevitably did, that’s when the anger, the resentment, the embarrassment would bubble up toward the surface. That’s when all those soft, painful parts of her would crust over inside of that hardened, vindictive shell she always seemed to present to the world. To her, this was the only option. To even consider forgetting, much less forgiving those who had conjured such a spitefulness within her seemed a dishonor not only to herself, but to her own ability to endure. She knew who “Aria Blaze” was because of these experiences. Aria Blaze was a fighter, a survivor, and a deliverer of karmic justice to all those who would hide malice behind a facade of innocence or righteousness. She lashed out like a whip at those who seemed ingenuine or naive in any way. She bid them all to recognize the world for the cruel and harsh place that it was, all because it had been cruel and harsh to her first. This was the way it had been; this was how she liked it. This was how, with the aid of her ageless powers, she had intended to keep it. Cookie should have minded herself before daring to touch that which was beyond her understanding.

Cookie...

The ash from the edge of her cigarette finally dropped, falling into her lap, and smudging her torn jeans in the process. Her work goggles, forgotten haphazardly atop her head, now collected sweat that dripped down the sides of her face in the afternoon sun. The heat sucked. Not being able to dive beneath the surface of some cool water whenever it got too unbearable sucked. Her home life sucked. Her job sucked. This burger sucked, and most importantly, that damned Cookie Dough sucked—really sucked. She sucked so hard you could flip her over, and run her across a living room rug to gather loose change.

Who does that loudmouth, cotton-haired, uppity, perfectly proportioned, so-and-so think she is, anyway? How dare she make me… me feel remorse for my crappy existence after all I’ve been through? Screw her little silent treatment. I’m the greatest, grudge-holding bitch on the planet. We can just duke it out, and see who comes out on top.

“Man,” Aria moaned, squeezing her eyes shut. She was doing it again. She was taking this way too personally, and if it was one thing that she didn’t need right now, it was a reminder of the fact that she cared about this particular mortal affair as much as she feared.

The pigtailed girl’s face contorted into a deep frown. It had been almost a full week since the Friday night incident at Bubbles’ bar, and since then, things had been awkward between Cookie and her, to say the least. She had amped herself up all of Sunday evening and Monday morning, readying herself to march straight into her boss’ office, explain everything to her—including what she could about her past without sounding insane—and then apologize profusely for her over-the-top outburst. Somehow, she had even managed to make herself feel good about the idea of doing so.

Everything about the simple plan seemed right as she walked into the shop that Monday afternoon, sat next to Wheeler who she gladly proceeded to ignore, pulled out one of the guitars she had been fiddling about with, and got to work. Waiting for Cookie’s arrival from an errand she had run seemed like no trouble until Aria heard the front door bell jangle, and the woman finally walked in, arms ladened with bags of components and strings. Their eyes met from across the room for just a split second before Cookie looked away. As she approached to enter through the workroom door, the former siren felt the confident smirk she had been wearing all morning recede. Her heart began to patter at a million beats a second, and she suddenly felt sick to her stomach as she remembered:

Wait a minute. I don’t apologize for anything.

Suddenly, she found her defensive shell crusting over once again. A haughty sneer spread across her face, and as Cookie silently walked through the back room toward her office without first acknowledging the younger woman like she usually did each and every day, Aria felt fresh anger rise within her.

“Right. Got it. Loud and clear,” she had murmured to herself. Tossing down her screwdriver, she had then quickly exited the shop to get some air, and calm her nerves.

That’s practically how things had been since then. She should have known that Cookie’s pride would permit her to speak only as much as her own would allow her to reply without being a spiteful bitch about it. Aria would just have to face the facts: that brief, lovely thing that had been their friendship was now over.

Sighing, the pigtailed girl jostled herself out of her thoughts, and gazed down at her cold burger. The thing had cigarette ash all over it. Grimacing for a moment, she then shrugged to herself, dusted it off as best as she could, and took a huge, unenthusiastic bite. It was disgusting—perfect fare for crappy moments such as this.

Rolling the mass about in her mouth whilst gazing around the empty parking area, it took her a moment to see the poof of white, curly hair directly across from her on the other side of the lot. Her chewing slowed to a halt as Cookie approached with a bag in hand. Gulping the lump down, Aria quickly moved to toss the burger aside, and fire up a fresh cigarette. Her hands shook when she popped it between her lips and lit it; so, she sat on them afterward until they were numb. There was no way that Cookie was going to see that she made her nervous. At least Aria got some small comfort from the sight of the green haze that trailed the other woman. There was solace in knowing she didn't have to feel uneasy alone.

As the other woman approached, and inevitably stood before her, arms crossed, Aria had to peer down at her just slightly from the tall platform she was sitting upon. It was a good feeling, towering over her. She felt powerful. It felt like Cookie was at her mercy.

Swinging her legs back and forth, the former siren scanned her over whilst the other woman did the same. It was like one of their high stakes poker games all over again—straight faced and full of false confidence.

“Hey,” Cookie muttered.

“Yo,” Aria replied cooly, jostling the cigarette around in her mouth.

That was the extent of the conversation until, after another uncomfortable silence, Cookie leaned over to place the bag on the ground, took one of her hair bands off of her wrist, and tied her hair back. Picking the bag up again, she peered at Aria.

Shoot me in the face. Those damn eyes.

Aria felt her mettle melting away in Cookie’s line of sight. The shivering in her arms came back with a vengeance; so, she decided to cross them.

Cookie reached into the bag, rooting around for a second, before pulling out what appeared to be a blue, tupperware box. At first she held it out toward Aria who remained unmoved, eyeing the thing suspiciously.

“I, uh…” Cookie began before clearing her throat. Finding that nothing of real value would escape her mouth, she simply shoved the box into Aria’s lap, trusting that the younger woman would not let it fall. She didn’t. “Here. This is for you.”

The former siren didn’t say thank you. It wasn’t like she could have had the chance to anyway since after the box was practically thrown at her, the white-haired woman had then immediately turned tail, and marched away back toward the music shop. She had reached a quarter of the distance there before pausing, and turning around to stare at Aria once more.

“Don’t take too long. Some chick is having a crisis over her one-string banjo in there,” Cookie said.

Aria’s eyes shot wide open. For a split second, she could have sworn that she had seen… Yes, it was—a smile. Cookie had smiled at her. Did this mean that Aria had won the grudge match?

That’s right. Better smile.

“Uhh, yea boss. Be right in,” the siren barely managed to croak. Cookie turned to leave again, and Aria watched her until the woman had disappeared around the side of the building.

Alone in the lot once again, Aria now took the time to stare down at the tupperware container in her hand. Removing the lid, the wonderful aroma of baked brown sugar and vanilla immediately hit her nostrils. Inside of the box was what appeared to be at least fifteen, uniquely-shaped, and decorated sugar cookies. Nose wrinkling in confusion, she lifted one of the odd shapes, and stared at it for a second. Turning it around to its other side, she snorted at the instantly recognizable sight of an erect middle finger throwing a glorious bird into her face.

“The hell…?” she murmured under her breath, taking a moment to shake off some of her cigarette ash before popping it back between her now smiling lips.

Putting the cookie down, and picking up another, she laughed out loud this time to see that it was decorated like the most sour-faced smiley she had ever seen. There were a few cookies that were simply word balloons with various expletives printed into them—Aria’s favourite being the one that just said ‘UTTER SHIT’ in all girly, pink caps. Discarding her smoke, she popped the treat into her mouth, and took a bite. Digging deeper, she found another shaped like ‘Beauty’ the guitar she had been babying the week before. Coming upon the last cookie, her smile widened, and something leapt in her chest as she gazed down at a shape that looked exactly like the star accessories she liked to put in her hair. Next to this cookie sat a simple, folded note. Aria bit her lip nervously, took another bite of the cookie to preoccupy her teeth, and then picked the paper up.

I owe you. Dinner tonight at my house?

She choked. The cookie in her mouth fell to the ground as she read off the proposed time and Cookie’s home address—her honest-to-Chaos official location of residence. Suddenly, the racket of the entire world was drowned out by the sound of her own racing heartbeat. She felt her face practically catch on fire as she finished reading the message.

Don't bring up the fact that I did or said any of this to my face, or I will be forced to strangle something… Something cute… Like a pony or something.

Shut up,
The Cookie Monster

Aria’s jaw was hanging open. She felt as if she might soon follow her cigarette in falling to the ground if she didn’t take a couple of deep breaths, but for some reason the air had turned thick, impossible to breathe. Something weird was happening to her face; it felt as if it were stretching too much in the wrong directions. Her cheeks went numb, and her mouth was curling up into itself like a dying insect. What was going on with her chest, heartburn? Maybe these nasty burgers had finally given her a heart attack.

Oh, thank you sweet seas. Just let me die... Wait, no, not yet.

She folded the note back up, and tossed it back into the tupperware container. Closing the lid, she then leaned back against the brick wall, an utterly content smile upon her face. Opening her mouth, she could have never predicted in a million years that she might eject the most disgustingly gleeful squeal she had ever heard coming from anything, ever.

Her hand instinctively balled into a fist, and careened itself into her mouth to shut it up. What was happening to her?

Turning in horror to peer into the cracked side view mirror of a lonely van that had been parked nearby, she caught a glimpse of herself, and nearly screamed at the sight of the stupid, blushy grin that was plastered all over her maw. Her eyes went wide as she finally understood what was taking place, why her heart felt like it was about to burst out of her chest like one of those aliens from that movie—which, at the moment, seemed more preferable—and why a rock had apparently decided to settle in the very center of her throat. These were feelings that she had rarely felt. Perhaps they had come on this strong only ten times in her entire life. No wonder she had thought it was indigestion.

Turning to face the back wall of Cookie’s shop, Aria allowed her expression to slowly droop into a terrified gawk as flashes of a sprightly, honey-colored mare coursed through her head.

“Aw crap.”
_____

Worst. Work day. Ever.

Except, this time she really meant it. For the fifth time that afternoon, Aria had been jolted out of her anxious reverie by the sound of Wheeler whistling in her ear, only to stare down, and find herself trying to hammer a twist-in screw into a beat up guitar with the backend of a cold soldering iron.

“Dammit, again?” she hissed at herself before placing the iron back into its holster, and running to go fetch some scratch remover. Wheeler watched her closely, very much amused.

“Bit preoccupied there, Blaze?” he snickered stroking the fuzz upon his chin. Aria sighed.

“Not right now, Wheeler. I’m not in the mood.”

Wheeler snorted.

“Alright. I’ll just wait until you—Aria Blaze—are in the mood to have a chat,” he stated, making finger quotes as he watched the girl violently rubbing the scratch remover into the surface of the tarnished instrument. Her eyes occasionally darted up toward the door. Wheeler, noticing this, smirked.

“She ain’t gonna be back for another twenty minutes,” he continued. As he did so, Aria seemed to rub harder and harder. “What’s so damn urgent, anyway? Don’t tell me you’re quittin’ or somethin. We ain’t even been to Bubbles together ye—”

Aria dropped the rag she had been wiping the scratch with, spun around, and snatched up Wheeler’s collar into her fist, drawing him close. Her eyes were wide with restlessness, and from this distance—or lack thereof—the red man could see a sheen of sweat collecting on her skin.

“Mud? I will promptly put my boot into your esophagus, so help me,” she growled, her eye twitching erratically.

“Now, you hold on there, little missy!” Wheeler said, beginning to feel equally irate. “I was just joshin’ with ya!”

“Fuck Josh!” Aria yelled, releasing the man’s collar. She never even noticed the startled expressions upon the faces of the few shop patrons who then quickly proceeded toward the door. “Fuck your jokes, and fuck your constantly trying to figure out how to worm your way into my pants! It’s not gonna happen! Not now, not ever! So, do me a favor, and stuff it!”

She began to collect the scratch remover and the guitar to go put them away. As she turned around, Wheeler, who had surprisingly managed to keep a half amused look on his face while staring down the brunt of her rage, cleared his throat. Aria’s entire body stiffened up at the noise. She took a deep breath.

“The next words outta your mouth better be the frikkin secret to the meaning of life,” she said in a dangerous tone. She heard the man fishing around in his pocket for something. A few seconds later, she heard the sound of a piece of paper being unfurled.

“Nuclear Sunburns,” Wheeler said in that smug tone of his. "But you were close!"

Aria’s back straightened. Her shoulders hitched upward, and stayed there. Slowly, she turned around to peer wide-eyed at the man who was now holding a worn and crumpled band flier in his hand.

“The Nuclear Sunburns?” she croaked. Wheeler nodded slowly, his grin spreading.

“Tonight only at The Hole.”

Aria froze for a moment before dropping everything in her arms back onto the workbench, and snatching the flier from his hand.

“Bloody gimme that!” she gasped, practically shoving her nose up against it.

No way. There was no way the Nuclear Sunburns—only one of her most favourite hardcore bands ever—would choose to tour here, of all places. Showcasing the most gorgeous, skull crushing riffs she’d heard in the last decade, and not to mention, Bender Bridges, otherwise known to be the fastest fingers currently in the underground, the Nuclear Sunburns had, years ago, come to hold a special place in Aria’s guitar-obsessed heart. She had never had a chance to see them live anywhere else, thanks to Adagio’s iron grip upon her personal affairs. Of course, that grand bitch called fate would make it so that the one and probably only opportunity that she would ever get to go to their concert would occur now, like this, at the mercy of “Muddy Wheelduuurr,” and on the very same night she was invited to spend the evening at Cookie’s. As her eyes slowly rose to meet Wheeler’s, she caught sight of the two tickets he was now dangling in front of his grinning face, and quickly motioned to snatch them from him. Anticipating this reaction, he yanked them just beyond her reach.

“Woah! Calm yer tits there, Sugar!” he laughed spitefully. “Do you know what I been through to get these?”

“I don’t wanna hear about whose junk you had to cup to get ‘em, Mud,” Aria began. “How much do you want?”

This situation was still salvageable as far as Aria was concerned. Cookie and she shared very similar tastes in music. Perhaps the woman could be persuaded to go out to a concert after dinner that night. After all, getting to a Nuclear Sunburns gig late was better than not going at all.

“It ain’t exactly about how much I want,” Wheeler began in a cheeky tone. “It’s more about what I want.”

Aria sneered, and crossed her arms, blowing a loosened strand of hair out of her face.

“If it takes place anywhere beyond this shop’s front door, then no. If it has anything to do with a body part of yours that's below your hairline, then the answer is no,” she growled. Wheeler seemed to think to himself for a second while touching his hair, then his beard, and then looking somewhere down below.

“Well, shoot, I got about four o’ those,” he murmured. Aria groaned wearily, letting her arms drop to her sides.

“One date,” Wheeler finally blurted, getting to the point. “That’s all. Meaning one and only one of these tickets is up for grabs. I pick you up, we maybe get somethin’ to eat, get tanked down at Bubbles, and then...”

He flicked the edges of the tickets twice with the fingers of his free hand, and leaned back comfortably against the workbench. The former siren now looked utterly incensed.

“Wheeler, you don’t even like the Sunburns,” Aria began. “Just sell me both the damn tickets, and I’ll hold your hand right now for ten seconds without hurling. That’s more than a fair deal.”

“Oh contrair-y,” he replied in his heavy country accent. “For your information, I’ve been listenin’ to the Sunburns for years, ever since that one week me and that Mint-whatever girl were a thing.”

Aria snorted, and cocked an eyebrow, finding it amusing that somehow that Mint chick Sonata was currently obsessed with had found a way to pop up into her own little world. This town was too damn small.

Still, Wheeler currently presented to her a rather large problem; nevertheless, it was one that, in her heart of hearts, she already knew the solution to. Sighing in defeat, head bobbing backward, she picked up her dropped guitar and work materials with a sense of finality. Turning, she then headed toward the back of the room to put them away.

“Ey! Where ya goin? I need yer address so I can pick ya up tonight!” Wheeler exclaimed, swiveling his chair around to face her.

“I’m not going to the concert, Wheeler,” Aria murmured almost as if saying the words caused her physical pain.

“Well, why the hell not?” the man asked, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

“Because...” Aria hissed through her teeth, now irritated by his nagging. There was a brief pause before she heard Wheeler sigh, pull a piece of paper from somewhere, and begin scratching something upon it.

“Well, here’s mah number in case ya change yer mind, and I am expecting you to change yer mind,” he said, slapping the paper down in front of Aria’s work space.

Right at that moment, the bell at the shop’s front door rung, and Cookie stepped in ladened with a ton of bags as usual. However, catching sight of her in that instant, interestingly enough, didn’t seem to rile Aria into a state of panic. A sense of comfort washed over her as she became settled in the feeling that, somehow, in some small way, she had taken back the reigns of control in her life. She passed a rather content look toward Wheeler supposing that maybe today wasn’t necessarily the worst work day ever after all.

“Not gonna happen, man. I’ve got plans.”

___

Once, whilst sifting through an old nature magazine to find the wildflower photo feature contained therein, Sonata had stumbled upon an interesting fact. She had learned that baby bottlenose dolphins did not sleep at all for the first couple of months of their life. When they became old enough, their resting would entail half of their brain powering down while the other half stayed awake. This would interchange in periods of “sleep” that weren’t really sleep at all. For all intents and purposes, these creatures went their entire lives without completely shutting down into that blissful state of unawareness that land mammals seemed to need so much. Now, standing on shaky legs as she tried to blink away the wavering haze before her tired eyes, Sonata wondered to herself how feasible such a thing would be for a pony turned siren turned human. After all, she had been a sea dweller for a large portion of her life, even though she could never remember a night where the need for sleep didn’t beckon to her. Maybe that was just an addiction left over from her previous days on land. Maybe it was something that had to be weaned out. Still, after all this time, the urge had never seemed to change. Before the loss of her powers, tiredness was never a problem because there was never really a reason to be tired. Now, of course, things were much different.

It had been about a week since she had put her plan into motion against Patti Mint, and in that week, Sonata had learned quite a few more things about the whole “not having powers” bit. For one, it was pretty much impossible to keep track of the desires of a crowd of non-enchanted beings, no matter how much one tried. Rushing about the restaurant floor, the former siren felt like a chicken with its head cut off. One minute, one of her tables would want a drink refill. The next, another one would be asking for a dessert menu. Soon enough, it would come time to check up on Patti’s tables, and inevitably outdo her services. This part was the hardest because it required Sonata to think up a scheme to win the patrons over; thus, it would be necessary that her story change according to what she assumed each customer wanted to hear. The elderly would, more often than not, hear about how much she loved to volunteer or visit her non-existent grandmother. Young women got overly lavish compliments about their looks. Young men would simply get a good look at the ‘gals’ as Aria would call them.

Of course, considering the new, increased number of people she was tending to, her attempts at winning absolutely everyone over could never prove completely successful. There had been quite a few times where the customers did not respond to her enticements at all, in which case, she was begrudgingly obliged to allow Patti to collect her due tips from those particular tables. However, more often than not, this didn't happen.

There was no such thing as time anymore, especially now that she had decided not to take any days off for fear that Patti would work without her knowing. As a result, everything began to flow into everything else, and at once, became one giant, swiftly rolling blob of faces, voices, actions, and commands. Perhaps it was inevitable that, after a time, mistakes would be made as delirium set in.

Sonata teetered up against one of the kitchen counters in her usual place next to Peachy as she awaited her next order. To any onlooker, it was immediately clear that the blue girl was out of sorts, to say the least. To those who knew her well, the change was startling. Her eyes had become gaunt, ringed with darkness, whilst the pop of her pretty, blue skin had faded, becoming rather drab and dull. Her usually cheery disposition had ebbed into an exhausted struggle to simply maintain an air of cordiality with those she interacted with. This would all happen in between the time she would spend lost in her own disoriented thoughts.

“Order up!” a voice called from somewhere in the haze. Sonata had barely heard it as it floated around on the edges of her awareness.

Indeed, there was an uncomfortable silence that permeated the kitchen, save for the sound of various sizzling entrees. All of the waitresses, save for Patti who was looking rather exhausted herself, seemed to be completely cognizant of the fact that whatever was wrong with Sonata, it had much to do with the blue-eyed brunette. This seemed obvious at the moment seeing as how the former siren was now passing the eeriest of raspberry glares in Patti’s direction. She seemed blithely unaware of the four more pairs of eyes trained upon her as a heavy green haze began to fill the room. Pumpkin and Candy stood in silence, tapping their fingers, and popping their gum as they tried their best to manage their anger whilst warding off the increasingly disturbing vibes they had been getting from the former siren. J.R. glanced up from his grill every now and then to look at them all curiously. He was never around the waitresses long enough to be privy to their affairs, but even to him it was clear that something was going on, and that Sonata was at the center of it all. Peachy stood by Sonata’s side, arms crossed, wearing a strange look of both worry and irritation upon her face as she wondered what was happening to her friend. Stealing a peek, she glanced at the girl just in time to catch the hints of a bizarre smile creasing her lips. Something in Peachy recoiled as she tried to deduce what exactly was going on in Sonata's head.

Patti, oh, Patti Mint,
Soon, soon, soon...

Sonata broke out into a tiny giggle as she repeated the phrase over in her mind, daydreaming about the day Patti would worship the ground that she walked upon. Weary eyes trained on the brunette, it was clear to see that the girl had been worn down. A few days ago, the plumes of negative energy escaping from Patti had peaked; her defiance of Sonata’s will was delicious to behold, but gradually, as she realized more and more that perhaps she had underestimated the former siren’s craftiness, and as her own exhaustion set in, those hazy emerald surges died down to a small spurt. Now, the only massive waves of negative energy came from those that honestly didn’t matter to Sonata much at the moment. In her world, where only she and Patti existed, the air was practically still and clear. Patti’s resistance was waning. For the time being, Sonata figured she could continue to endure, knowing what bliss awaited her on the other side. Indeed, in a short time, surely…

Patti, oh, Patti Mint,
Soon, soon, soon…

The sore patch between her chest and neck began to itch. She scratched it, supposing it was just more fatigue setting in.

“Order up, Sonny!” J.R.’s voice cut through the fog. She jolted into alertness, and quickly bounced forward.

“Oh! S-sorry, Junior! I’m on it!” she cried racing up to collect her plate. J.R. smirked at her as he plopped the thing upon her tray.

“Don’t call me Junior, Sonny. What’s going on with you lately? You seem pretty out of it.”

“N-nothing, J.R.,” the blue girl giggled nervously as she spun about, and headed toward the door.

The last thing Sonata had expected when she had reached her table was the harsh awakening that she received.

“I specifically said no onions,” the woman at the table said as she removed the sunglasses from her face, using them to motion toward her plate. Sonata gave her an astonished look.

“B-but, I don’t remember you saying—” she stammered as she whipped her notepad back out, beginning to flip through its pages.

“I’ve been allergic since childhood, sweetheart. Are you going to try and tell me that I forgot about that? I said that I absolutely didn’t want any onions.”

“B-but—” Sonata continued on, bewildered by the fact that, yet again, she had gotten another order wrong, something that never happened under normal circumstances.

“Are you gonna argue with me? Because I don’t have time for arguments. Just make the burger over, or we can take it up with your manager. How about that?” the woman asked, giving Sonata a threatening glare. Utterly deflated, the former siren snatched the plate back up, turned tail, and shuffled back into the kitchen.

There was a look of vindication upon the faces of Pumpkin and Candy as Sonata took her walk of shame back through the kitchen area. However, Peachy eyed her worriedly as the former siren reached out with her occupied hand to plop the plate down in front of J.R.’s station.

“Sorry. Fudged it again. No onions,” she muttered, never once looking at him. Instead, she continued walking toward the back room door, and disappeared through it. Dropping her tray, Peachy followed close behind.

She found Sonata splayed out upon the bench that sat between the lockers, staring up at what seemed to be a photo that she was holding in her hands. Her locker was wide open, blocking Peachy’s path. When the green-eyed girl slammed the thing shut, and loomed imposingly over her friend, to her surprise she found that Sonata could only manage a befuddled smile.

“Oh heeey, Peach!” she mumbled, stifling a delirious snicker. “Whaz wrong with yer face?”

Peach was not amused.

“Sonata, what is going on with you? Ever since last Friday you’ve been acting so strange, and the way you’ve been behaving around Patti… It's starting to worry me.”

Sonata giggled as her eyelids began to droop.

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about me, Peachy. I couldn’t feed off of you even if I wanna… I mean, I wanna which is weird cause I don’t usually wanna do that to friends, but by the seas, have you smelled you? It’s like… crazy good, but it probably wouldn’t be worth it… I think. Not that you wouldn’t taste super good… or… anyth—...”

The siren’s words trailed off as her train of thought floated away like a feather in the wind. She stared at the ceiling in confusion.

“Sonny! What are you talking about?” Peach exclaimed, her face going red.

“Huh?” the blue girl asked, apparently having forgotten that her friend was even there. “Oh heeey, Peach!”

There was a pregnant pause as Peachy Keen stared down at the bewildered girl, shaking her head. Taking a moment to glance up at the clock on the wall, she breathed a sigh of relief when she noticed it was almost time for her break. Reaching down to grab Sonata’s arm, she pulled the girl up into a seated position.

“Sonny, you’re taking a break with me. We’re gonna get some caffeine in you, and then we’re gonna talk.”

She reached out to grab the photo that the former siren was holding in her hands, only to recoil as Sonata lashed out toward her. The blue girl’s eyes suddenly went sharp and alert.

“Don’t touch that!” Sonata yelled, pressing the photo to her chest. Realizing what she had done, her gaze softened. “I mean… It’s just that this is really special to me. I don’t want anything to happen to it.

Peach rubbed her hand nervously for a moment before nodding.

“Okay, Sonny. Just meet me outside in five, alright?” she murmured, turning around, and heading back out through the doorway.

Sonata watched her go. When she was sure that the girl was gone, she sighed with exhaustion, and stared down again at the photo. In it, in vintage, Prohibition-era clothing, posed her two sistren and herself in a wash of grays, blacks, and whites. Despite the strange appearance of their varied apparel, they all seemed to be wearing smiles upon their faces. They weren’t necessarily smiles of glee or smiles of excitement. More so, they were smiles of confidence, smiles that clearly depicted three beings who knew exactly how special they were, beings who were determined to make sure that everyone else could see it too.

Kissing the picture, Sonata then slowly rose to her shaking feet, placed the item back into her locker, and slammed its door shut.

After walking out to meet Peachy to collect their coffees, Sonata then headed out toward the back at the girl’s insistence that the fresh air would do her some good. Huddling together on an old bench that sat by the edge of the lot, Peachy waited for Sonata to get a couple sips of the drink down before she turned toward her, and sighed.

“You know what I’ve realized lately, Sonata? We don’t really talk to each other much about… y’know… important things which is weird because we’re always talking. It doesn’t always have to be about stupid stuff though. You know that you can talk to me about what’s bothering you, right?”

Sonata blinked at Peachy. As sweet and sociable as the former siren was, even she had enough experience with the fickleness of mortals to understand that such a thing could never be. As sirens, she and her sisters had learned long ago that bearing their whole hearts to mortal beings—ponies and humans alike—was foolhardy unless they were asking for a witch hunt or a cramped, cold cell in the belly of a madhouse. That kind of existence, a life filled with secrecy, half truths, and downright lies, became par for the course. It was something that, over time, drew them into themselves and each other until, eventually, very little of their understanding of mortals remained besides the fact that they were to be fed off of for sustenance. Sure, they lived and mingled amongst them, and they had all become fantastic actresses on that front, but they knew, and even the dimmest mortal could feel, that there was a perpetual wall, a chasm between them when interacting with the girls. It was something that seemed utterly unbreachable. They wouldn’t mesh with their circles so much as they would haunt them, looming about their so-called friends with knowing, almost hungry expressions upon their faces. Their presence in a room was lauded as they leached more and more adoration from others, but only in that reverent way one might laud a queen or celebrity—gingerly, with the utmost caution, and as much obedience as could be managed. Even though Sonata had perhaps been the best at hiding, even ignoring, the differences between her nature and the mortal world, still that impenetrable rift seemed ever present.

The former siren sighed, and gave Peach a pitying smile. Taking the last swig of her coffee, she placed the cup down beside her, and tapped her fingers upon the lid. Her expression settled into one of deep contemplation. Squinting and nodding slightly as she seemed to decide on something within herself, she tilted her chin toward Peach, meeting her gaze with one of profound appreciation.

“The stupid things are plenty, Peach. I bet you’ve noticed by now that my sisters and I kinda freak people out sometimes… a lot of times.”

Peach cracked a smile as she remembered Aria’s strange behaviour at the movies the week prior.

“Yea, just a bit,” she snorted. Sonata couldn’t help but grin in return.

“We’ve never really gotten the whole “friendship” thing, and we always kinda ended up getting rid of people who got too close in a way we didn’t like.”

Sonata continued to labor through her words, trying her best to fit her siren truths into a digestible package for mortal ears.

“But I haven’t gotten rid of you. That stands for something!”

There was a brief pause as Sonata glanced toward the restaurant, and happened to catch a glimpse of Patti through the window, pulling her apron off. It seemed the girl was about to go on her break. Sonata’s eyes narrowed, and she continued to talk whilst watching the brunette disappear from her line of sight.

“Things have been like, super stressful with my sisters and me, but you don’t have to worry about that, Peach.”

Sonata’s eyes widened with interest again when she saw Patti, Pumpkin, and Candy exiting through the front door of the restaurant, and heading across the street to a quiet corner. Patti walked in between them both, her arms crossed self consciously about her chest whilst the two other girls occasionally rubbed her back.

“I’ve got a super weird hunch that I’ll be feeling a lot better, really soon— Say! Where are they going?” Sonata blurted motioning toward Patti, and her friends. Peach was suddenly jolted from her enjoyment of this rare, seemingly intimate moment with her friend. Her head spun around to look at the other girls.

“Oh man, how long have we been out here? They’re going on their break now. We ought to get back, and man the floor.”

The angel-eyed girl got to her feet, and had taken a few steps before she realized Sonata wasn’t following. Noticing the former siren’s eyes still trained sharply upon Patti and her friends, she crossed her arms and sighed.

“Enough, Sonata! I don’t know what your deal is with Patti, but it’s time to let it go!”

The phrase echoed in Sonata’s mind, sounding very much like the chiding Aria had given her over the weekend. Forgetting herself, her head snapped about to glare daggers into Peach. For a moment, a terrifying look of rage was plastered across her face. Peach recoiled as Sonata watched a giant burst of green escape from her aura. Catching herself, the blue girl sat up straight, and feigned calm.

“Y… you’re totally right, Peach. You’re right! I think she’s got the point by now. I’ll lay off of her. I double promise,” the former siren lied with the sweetest, and most practiced of smiles. There was a pause until Sonata realized Peach was still waiting for her to follow her into the restaurant. She laughed nervously, twisting a finger around the end of her blue ponytail.

“I’ll be right there. I just need a sec to myself to think… and stuff.”

Peach passed her a suspicious smirk, and then, turning her palms upward in defeat, spun around to head back inside. Sonata did her best to look meditative and calm until the girl had disappeared out of sight. Almost immediately after, she bolted upward to race across the street in the direction Patti and her cohorts had walked off toward.

After a few moments of searching, she found the trio together amongst some old crates and garbage cans in a shady backstreet. What was it with Patti and alleyways? The brunette was currently seated upon a large, empty crate, hunched over to grip her knees, with the most exhausted expression upon her face. Opting to stand hidden behind the mouth of the alley, Sonata tried her best to listen in on the three girls’ conversation.

“...And I had to drop some of my classes in order to make the extras up at my other gig at the Tank,” Patti said with a scoff. “Hell of a way to spend the rest of my senior year, pouring shots into some skeezy dude’s mouth for six hours a night, but my professors kept looking at me all sad all the time, anyway. Drove me nuts. I thought one of them was gonna take me out back, and shoot me like a rabid family pet or something.”

“So, why don’t you just quit, Patti?” Candy urged, taking a few steps forward into the brunette’s line of sight. “Just find something else, and quit this dump. Then you could free up some of your time again, right?”

Patti rolled her eyes and groaned.

“Okay then, Candy. I’ll just quit Sammy’s, and pray that my landlord enjoys getting paid in candy bars and ramen. I’m sure that will work out. I’ve told you a million times, I’ve looked everywhere. There’s nothing open. This damn town is too damn small.”

As Sonata hid just outside of the alleyway, listening to Patti’s two companions trying as best as they could to comfort their downtrodden friend, she couldn’t help but be reminded of her sisters and herself, or at least what she wished her sisters and she were more like. It was clear that, despite their lack of showing public affection, they really did care very deeply about each other. To anyone else, this might have seemed sweet; however, it only worked to make Sonata seethingly jealous.

How was it possible that these three mortals, in their short, insignificant existence, had managed to create a more loving connection than three eternally bonded sisters? How dare her precious, blue-eyed target pull toward someone else for comfort when what she should have been doing was finding a way to appeal to Sonata’s sense of mercy? Had the former siren known that Pumpkin and Candy would actually turn out to be genuine friends to Patti, she would have surely found a way to get rid of them first.

The pop of Pumpkin’s gum echoed throughout the alleyway, snapping Sonata out of her thoughts. As the orange-hued girl sighed heavily, and pushed herself up off of the wall where she had been leaning, a grimace spread across her face.

“I still think you should just kick her ass, and take the cash back,” she said. “I’m sure Sam won’t fire you over it. This is a pretty big deal, Patti.”

“No!” Patti exclaimed, waving an arm at her companion. “Sam hates me. If any of this blows up, you girls know I’m gonna be the first to go; so, just do me a favor, and lay off of the blue bitch, alright? I’ll figure this out on my own.”

It was clear to Patti’s cohorts as well as Sonata that the girl didn’t actually believe what she had just said by the way she then bent over, and slammed her face into her palms. There was a pregnant silence as her friends considered their companion’s wretched predicament. Ever so cautiously, Candy Ice spoke up once again.

“Well… why don’t you just tell her you’re sorry? I mean, you don’t have to actually mean it or anything, right?”

From where she was hidden beyond the lip of the backstreet, Sonata felt her skin growing warm as a small smile began to spread across her face. She licked her lips in anticipation of Patti’s imminent breakdown.

Yea, Patti. Why don’t you just tell me you’re sorry?

“No…” Patti murmured, her voice dripping with enough venom to instantly obliterate Sonata’s smile. “That is completely out of the question. I’m not that desperate yet.”

Sonata felt such anger rising inside of her chest that she began to shake, and the hue of her cheeks went purple. She heard Pumpkin scoff.

“Are you kidding me, Patti? Your situation sounds pretty damn desperate to me. What other choices do you have?”

Too many, Sonata thought as she immediately turned, and began walking back toward the restaurant in a huff. Her raspberry eyes seemed to glow with rage as, bit by bit, she settled upon what should be done about the last bits of her pesky Patti problem.

Author's Note

I am pretty positive quite a few of you are currently disappointed that this chapter wasn't the conclusion to the harrowing story of Aria's past. I would just like to speak in my own defense, and say that this is definitely for a reason. In the meantime, there is still so much drama to be had elsewhere in their timeline. :trixieshiftleft: All of the girls' fates will be revealed in time, though, I promise. :heart: :fluttershyouch:

Smoke

“Lame, trash, garbage, rubbish, bollocks…” Aria prattled off as she dug deeper into the recesses of her closet. Why was it that every beloved piece of clothing she owned had suddenly become so unappealing? Not that she was in the business of dressing for loveliness’ sake, but right now it seemed that the urge had struck her to actually care about how she presented herself.

She was expected at Cookie’s in about an hour, and to anyone who might have happened to look in on her at that moment, running around completely disheveled and pantless, they would have assumed that she was already well prepared for a quiet and secluded night at home in front of the T.V. Eventually, enough time had whittled down for the former siren’s desperation to kick in. Weary about how much energy she was putting into acting like a fool, she sighed to herself, reached into her closet, grabbed a handful of items, and tossed them onto her bed so that she might sift through them.

Initially, Aria was annoyed by how much she subconsciously disliked the idea of dresses until she actually put one of the two she owned on. It was a slinky, little, purple thing that Adagio had picked out for her back when they had been working a stint performing at a big nightclub in New York. She glanced into the mirror, and immediately shrank into herself. She couldn’t deny that she looked absolutely amazing, like the goddess she used to be, but damn if this wasn’t too much skin for this. Aria knew herself. She would be hoisting her hems down all night if she wore this. It was too gaudy anyway.

“How the hell did Adagio ever get me to go outside in this?” she muttered to herself. “I swear to the spirits, she fantasizes about making a small harem out of us. Might as well just go naked.”

Already too disgusted with herself for words, Aria wrenched the thing off, and stared listlessly down at the rest of the items on her bed. She sighed, and rolled her eyes. Why was she taking this so seriously? It wasn’t like Cookie actually felt the same way about her or anything, right? Besides, this was Cookie. She’d probably answer the door looking exactly as she had at work that afternoon.

Feeling a bit less anxious, she opted to put on a nice pair of black jeans and a snug tank top before calling it a day. Now, what in the name of chaos was she going to do about her face and hair?

Aria barely noticed the sound of the front door slamming, and aggressive stomps coming up the stairs. She deduced that it must have been Sonata since Adagio had long since taken her weird, ritualistic bath, and disappeared into her room for the evening without supper. The sound of perturbed grumbling grew louder as her sister made her way down the hall toward the bathroom. Apparently, she had caught a peek into Aria’s room as the dour siren had just been putting the finishing touches onto her pigtails and black-as-death lipstick.

“Wow!” Sonata exclaimed, forgetting her troubles for the moment as she rushed to Aria’s bedroom door. The elder girl immediately rolled her eyes and sighed.

Here we go…

“Ari you look so... pretty! You going out? Where’re you going?” Sonata asked, then lowering her voice, and leaning into the doorway to assure that Adagio would not hear. “Can I come too?”

Aria sighed. Sonata was lucky that she was in a relatively good, though anxious, mood that evening.

“Thanks, and nope. I’m going to Cookie’s,” the elder girl stated, only barely paying attention to her sister before grimacing at herself in the mirror. “Besides, I don’t like you, remember?”

“Cookie?” Sonata blurted in confusion, having long since learned to ignore a great deal of her sister’s slander. “Oh! You mean that loud chick you work with that looks like a pile of leftover caramel and marshmallows from Sugarcube Corner?”

Aria snorted.

“That would be her. Ugh! Everything is so. Fucked. Up!” the elder girl yelled, suddenly pulling her hair out of its bands.

Forgetting the conversation, she quickly snatched up a previously discarded piece of paper from the floor, and began rubbing everything off of her face, leaving the entire thing covered in black smudges. Exasperated, she turned to fetch more supplies from her dresser before catching sight of the knowing smile that had begun to stretch across Sonata’s face.

“Ooooh, I get it now,” Sonata murmured with glee. “You’re in loooove!”

Aria’s black splattered eyes went wide.

“Shut the hell up! I’m just going to get a free meal!”

“Lemme help!” Sonata blurted, bouncing up and down.

“Wh… Huh?”

“Oh, come on, Aria! Let me do your hair! I’ll make you look so awesome! Pleeease?” the younger girl began to plead. Aria scoffed.

“First of all, I already look awesome,” she began, motioning toward her bedraggled hair, and black smeared face. “Secondly, you’re out of your mind if you think I’d let you within three feet of my head. I don’t want to end up bald. Now, get out of my room!”

Sonata pouted. Aria found it simple to avoid the girl’s penetratingly cute gaze until she fell to her knees, hands clasped in a begging pose.

“Sonata, what the hell are you doing?” Aria sighed, finding herself quickly losing patience.

Sonata didn’t answer. Her lip simply trembled.

“Stop making that face right fucking now,” the elder girl threatened, crossing her arms.

Sonata’s eyes went wide and teary.

“You’ll be so pretty, Ari! Come ooon! You haven’t gone on a date like this in, what, four decades? I’ll make you so perfect!”

After a beat of silence, Aria rolled her eyes, and sighed, staring up toward the ceiling.

“I swear, if you so much as yank out a strand, I’m going to pummel you... repeatedly… And it’s not a date,” she muttered, moving to collect the items from her dresser for Sonata to use, and then sitting upon her bed. The younger girl jumped up with a squeal of glee, and to Aria’s confusion, ran from the room. A few moments later, she returned with a handful of her own supplies. Aria, a bit wary, offered up her own handful to Sonata who promptly proceeded to slap them away onto the floor.

“Get that outta here! I’m gonna make you look like a fairy queen! Except… you know… a gloomy one that creeps people out like all the stuff you like!” the blue girl exclaimed dropping tons of glosses and glitter all over Aria’s bed.

“Sonata...” Aria growled nervously.

Realizing she had, perhaps, put on too much enthusiasm for her sister’s tastes, the blue girl cleared her throat, and attempted to calm down.

“Whoops! Sorry. Got excited for a minute there, but I swear, you’re gonna like it. Trust me.”

Recoiling ever so slightly as the wildly grinning younger girl approached her with a myriad of brushes, and strange metal objects, Aria grit her teeth, and clenched her eyes shut, praying to the Old, Nameless Ones that somehow she might survive the ordeal.

For some reason, the silence that ensued between them became unnerving. Perhaps it was because they both knew each other so well. It seemed that there was so much to be said that their own silly feelings of resistance toward each other were made obvious. Considering all that had happened at her job the past week, Aria’s hand once again travelled up to that odd space upon her shoulder, beginning to run the line of the healed dagger scratch. Recognizing her sister’s nervous tick, Sonata’s brow furrowed when she saw this. Hesitantly, she took a deep breath.

“Something’s wrong,” she murmured whilst running a comb through her sister’s long hair. “What is it?”

“Huh? What do you mean? Nothing’s wrong,” Aria said, turning her head slightly to the side.

“Well, you’re touching that… thing. You always do that when you’re thinking about the old times.” Sonata paused for a moment. “Are… are you thinking about... you know who?”

A weak scoff escaped Aria.

“Midnight Swift. You can say his name. Hearing it doesn’t bother me anymore. And no, I’m not.”

Sonata winced at the sound of the name. She’d, of course, never known the pegasus stallion those many lifetimes ago, but over the ages, as her sister revealed, bit by bit, all of the terror he had wrought upon her in the dawn of her life, a strangely vicarious aversion to the thought of him had grown within the younger girl. She supposed that maybe now she might even be more sickened at the thought of him than Aria was. To her sister, Swift had been her reality; he had actually happened to her. But there was a sense of limitation when it came to reality, constraints that weren’t there when one tried, instead, to imagine something that seemed too horrible to be real. Sonata trying to fathom Swift only made the image of him warp, and change into something of unrealistic proportion, a surreal nightmare.

“G-good,” the blue girl stammered, exhaling in relief as she finished up with Aria’s hair, and moved toward her front to start on her makeup. “What is it then? Something about the dreams? The beach?”

Aria tried her best not to stare daggers into her sister. It always perturbed her how unaware and uncaring the younger girl seemed toward the silent boundaries that others put around themselves. The constant prodding, the lack of tact with her cheery-toned questions always carried the potential to be infuriating, and often proved to be with Aria. Perhaps it was time for the girl to get a taste of her own medicine. The dour siren forced herself to take a deep breath as she closed her eyes, and allowed Sonata to begin dabbing at her face.

“How’s that Patti girl you want so much?” she asked, completely blowing off Sonata’s previous statement. “Heard you stomping around a while ago. Things not going so well down at Sammy’s?”

She smirked with satisfaction when she felt Sonata’s body tense. There was a long silence.

“She’s… alright,” Sonata muttered, barely above a whisper. Aria had assumed that she wouldn’t care what her sister’s reply would be as long as she was annoyed; however, when she heard the ominous tone in her voice, she couldn’t help but feel perturbed.

“Have you thought about what I told you the other day?” the elder girl asked.

“Mhm!” Sonata lied, layering on the cheer just a bit too thick whilst putting the finishing touches on her sister. “Oh my gosh, you look amazing!”

Aria cocked an eyebrow at Sonata’s clear attempt at changing the subject. Since the younger girl and she had apparently made the subconscious decision to act cordially toward one another for the time being, she decided she should at least make yet another attempt at gently prodding her in the right direction.

“Sonata, I’m gonna say something to you once, and only once, and if you ever tell anyone that I said it, especially the queen bee over there, I swear I’ll declare war on you for the next century and a half. Got it?”

Sonata said nothing; thus, Aria, ruminating behind closed eyelids, assumed she had silently agreed.

“I know you’ve always had a thing about acceptance, and I get why rejection is hard for you. I get why you want that Patti girl for yourself. But now that we don’t have our powers anymore, I think it would be wise for you to realize that you don’t really need the acceptance of mortals like Patti to know that you’re worth not being used… or hurt. Even if you didn’t have all those awful mortal companions that you always keep around you, that still wouldn’t mean that what Fylleion and his wife did to you was justified. It wasn’t; it never will be. You don’t have to be loved to know that you’re worthy of it.”

Aria took a deep breath, and exhaled, still not believing that she had said all of that to Sonata, of all beings. Waiting anxiously for a reply—any reply—she quickly became perturbed again when the other girl didn’t answer, but instead chose to continue fiddling with her sure to be ridiculous makeup. The loudest of silences passed between them for what seemed like forever before Aria felt Sonata take a step away from her face.

“You’re done, Ari! Why don’t you go have a look?” the blue girl finally blurted, all evidence of a reaction to elder girl's words void from her tone of voice.

Realizing she wasn’t going to pull any further conversation on the matter out of her sister, Aria sighed heavily, and decided to let the issue go. Turning toward her mirror, she stood up, eyes still closed.

“Alright, Sonata, but I’m warning you. If I look like one of those kid show princess thingies, I’m gonna cut off your—” Aria stifled herself as her eyes opened, and she gazed upon the magnificence that was her own reflection.

“Hot. Damn.”

It wasn’t even like she could put a finger on what Sonata had done, except for tying her hair back into a spectacularly messy ponytail. For all intents and purposes, it was almost as if the girl hadn’t done anything at all, and yet it was clear that Aria now seemed to glow as radiant as a strawberry moon. Walking up to the mirror, she touched it, wondering how her space case of a sister had ever paid attention to anything delicate or quiet long enough to figure out the definition of subtlety. Spinning around to cock an eyebrow at the smugly grinning blue girl, Aria huffed, and placed a hand upon her hip.

“Meh. It’ll do, I guess.”

They both grinned as they glanced at one another; then both of those grins melted into tight lipped frowns of guilt.

A few moments later, whilst putting on her jacket, and preparing to head out of the door, Aria found that her nerves had quickly jumped back into action. Sonata sat a short distance away upon the armrest of the couch, kicking her legs back and forth. She studied her sister with deep interest. Noticing the elder girl’s hands shivering ever so slightly as she reached for a cigarette, Sonata decided to speak up.

“You don’t have to feel nervous about it, Ari. This is a good thing, right?”

Aria froze just as she was about to light the smoke. Her eyes peered at the younger girl who gazed back with the sweetest, and most sincere of smiles. Something jumped in Aria’s chest, and suddenly she felt her shoulders relax. This was a good thing. What was she being so perturbed and nervous for? Cookie was someone she actually wanted to be around. Why should she allow her own paranoia to ruin the opportunity? Aria smiled ever so slightly, and put her lighter away. Plucking the cigarette from between her lips, she then tucked it safely into a free compartment in her wallet. Pulling the rest of the pack of cigarettes from her pocket, she stared at them for a moment before tossing them down upon the table beside the entrance.

“Yea. It is,” she replied to the girl before hoisting her jacket into a fit upon her shoulders, and opening the door.

Sonata waved eagerly, a mischievous grin upon her face.

“You kiddies be good, okay? Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” she teased with a sly wink. Aria’s entire face went red as she crossed the threshold. Before she shut the door behind her, she turned to face her sister one more time, now wearing an annoyed grimace.

“Sonata, quit while you're ahead.”

The blue girl simply giggled as the front door slammed shut. Sitting there, kicking her legs to and fro, she seemed to be enjoying the memory of the rare moment of peace that Aria and she had just shared. That sort of thing simply did not happen anymore. Sure, having to hear about all those yucky things from the old times had made her skin crawl, but as long as she only had to hear about it, and not relive it, then she could consider it to be a fair compromise.

As she mulled things over to herself, Sonata could not help but revisit Aria’s warning. It was the second time her elder sister had warned her in this manner which was serious business because Aria almost never repeated herself unless she was completely insistent about something. Still, the entire time, Sonata could barely resist the urge to tell Aria that she simply didn’t understand how she felt, and it was practically impossible to explain how she was feeling since she had never been too good with putting her thoughts into words. Perhaps all of the ages that her sisters had spent worrying and wrestling with mortal-type troubles had emotionally prepared them for dark times such as this, but Sonata just wasn’t like them. Her simple life philosophy had never accounted for pressures like these, and she wasn’t about to be settled with them now. She wasn’t about to be trapped in a life of unhappiness and toil as if it were the old times all over again.

By this point, the smile had completely faded from her face. Her legs had stopped kicking, and she sat in an eerie silence in the quiet living room. Sliding her gaze toward the front door, the next phase of her plan to win over Patti Mint came rushing back into her mind with a powerful gusto. Rising to her feet, she calmly made her way toward the entryway, grabbed a hoodie, one of Aria’s caps, and then her keys and wallet from the side table. Shoving the cap into the hoodie pocket, she quietly unlocked the entrance, slipped through the threshold, and off into the night.

___

The Tank was a rather shady bar, definitely not as warm as Bubbles, at least not from what Sonata could remember of the few times she had gone there with her sisters or friends. Instead, this place seemed purposely lit—or rather, darkened—to better reflect the intentions of its seemingly questionable patrons. Sonata couldn’t help but muse on how much Aria would probably enjoy a dive like this.

Donning her hoodie and cap as she walked into the place, she was relieved to discover that at least the A/C was on full blast inside. Looking about for Patti as she slowly made her way through the somewhat filled pub, and toward the bar, she seemed completely heedless of all the dubious stares she was currently receiving from the other guests. As she passed one particularly seedy-looking fellow, he gave off a loud whistle, surprising her into glancing in his direction. Seeing his wide grin, and inevitably missing its underlying message, she smiled back sweetly, and whistled a short, cheery tune in return.

“So much fun when people do that,” she giggled to herself.

Moving further, she spotted a table with two rather grim looking women sitting at it, sipping at glasses full of something clear. As Sonata passed them, one leaned into the other, and could distinctly be seen mouthing out the words: “Fresh meat”. Her companion smiled brightly, and cupped a hand to the side of her mouth.

“Nice legs, sweetheart!” she yelled. Sonata gasped, and grinned even wider.

“Thank you!” she replied warmly. “I think it’s because I dance a lot. I can give you girls a playlist later if you want, kay?”

Waving like a madwoman, she finally skipped up to the barside where two utterly inebriated young men were sitting, yelling about something or other. The one nearest her, upon taking one glance in her direction, immediately shoved his companion off of his stool, stepped over, and gestured toward the now empty seat to allow her to sit. Sonata’s doe-ish eyes sparkled.

“Aww, you’re so sweet! Gosh, everyone here is so nice! I guess that’s what I get for judging a glam magazine by its cover.”

Things were good. Despite the fact that she still felt exhausted, at least her spirits were lifted on account of all the wonderfully “polite” people she now found herself surrounded by. As she watched the barkeep approach her, she made a mental note to herself to visit this spot more often if she ever got the chance. It seemed to be a great place for a quick confidence boost.

“Hey, sweetheart,” the middle-aged, redheaded, raspy-voiced woman behind the counter said whilst she dried off a freshly rinsed whiskey tumbler. “What can I get ya?”

Sonata thought for a moment, tapping her chin. To be quite honest, she had only come here to dig up some information on Patti, but seeing the girl nowhere around, she concluded that perhaps she might have to wait. She might as well enjoy herself in the mean time.

“Gee, I don’t know. You got any juice boxes?” she asked.

The redhead peered at her with a look of utter exhaustion. Rolling her eyes, she sighed heavily, and placed a hand upon her hip.

“No. Which reminds me, let me see some I.D.”

“Oh. Well then, whatever you’ve got that’s really, really fruity,” Sonata said with a bashful grin as she reached into her hoodie pocket for her wallet. “I’ll take that.”

Pulling the wallet out, she unsnapped one side of it revealing, to the barkeep’s utter surprise, a thick row of ID cards shoved into a near bursting pocket. Pulling them all out, she began sifting through them to find the right one.

“Here it... Oh, wait, no. That’s expired. Or what about… Oh no. They don’t even print those anymore. Ooh! Here it is!” she exclaimed, picking out one of the newer looking cards, and handing it to the woman behind the counter.

The woman didn’t even bother to look at the thing, but instead, cracked a small smile. Indeed, despite Sonata’s oddness, it seemed nearly impossible to not be charmed by the ever cheery girl.

“I’m just gonna pretend like I didn’t see all that just now,” she murmured handing the card back to her. “What did you say you wanted again, sweetheart?”

“Something really fruity and sweet. Not that bitter stuff that my sisters keep tricking me into drinking whenever they buy stuff.”

“You know what? You look like a ‘Sex on the Beach’ type of gal,” the woman rasped, reaching under the counter for a tall, curvy glass. She never even noticed Sonata’s eyes pop wide open, a panicked yet guilty expression upon her face.

“W-what! Why, I never… I…” she stammered, slapping her palms against the counter. Leaning in, the former siren’s gaze pierced into the barkeep. The woman recoiled.

“What’ve you heard?” Sonata hissed just slightly above a whisper, her eyes darting about. “Who’ve you been talking to? It wasn’t a skinny, purple-y girl with a scary face who likes to break stuff, right?”

The woman at once began to shake her head fearfully, not knowing in the slightest what she should say.

“Because, I told her that it wasn’t what it looked like! We were opening our chakras or whatever!”

“I—” the redhead stammered whilst her hands worked vigorously below the bar.

“By the seas, Aria! It was the Sixties! Leave me alone, already!”

“Here!” the older woman yelled, throwing a tall glass full of a delicious looking pink and orange liquid in front of Sonata. This seemed to immediately pull the girl’s attention away from her own frantic thoughts.

“Oooh! That looks goood!” Sonata squealed, snatching the glass up, and reaching into her pocket for a few dollars.

“Now, y-you just settle down, and sip on that slowly, sweetheart,” the barkeep said with a relieved sigh as she watched Sonata pop the drink straw into her mouth. “Hopefully it’ll calm yer nerves or… whatever the hell is wrong with you.”

Picking up the crumpled bills that she had placed on the counter, the woman smirked as she listened to the sound of the strange girl in the baseball cap slurping down her drink, humming happily to herself.

“You’ve never heard the name of that drink before?” the woman asked her suspiciously. “It’s really very popular.”

Sonata shrugged.

“People always just buy this stuff for me. I dunno why. I don’t know the names of any of them, really.”

Just as she was saying this, the drunk young man beside her motioned for the barkeep to approach him. Whispering in the older woman’s ear, he slipped her a bill as she rolled her eyes.

“Really?” she asked him, unamused. The man shrugged.

Sighing to herself, she reached under the counter for a few moments, yet again, and when her hands reappeared, they were holding yet another glass of the colorful drink that Sonata had been sipping on. Plopping it down in front of Sonata, the redheaded woman cocked an eyebrow at her.

“The gentleman sends his regards,” she croaked. Sonata’s eyes widened.

“See what I mean?” she exclaimed, completely ignoring the man to her left, to his utter disappointment.

She continued to gulp down her beverage—faster this time so she could get started on the second. A moment later, after finishing the first glass, her head popped up with a gasp, and she glanced at the barkeep once again. Worried that the girl might go off on another tangent, the redhead braced herself, and took a step back. Instead, Sonata let out a small hiccup, and giggled.

“S’cuse me,” she murmured bashfully. “I just remembered I wanted to ask you something. Does this girl named Patti Mint work here? Brown hair, blue eyes, face always looks like she ate something bad?”

The redhead scoffed, and rolled her eyes. Noting this, Sonata tried her best to hide the wide grin that threatened to break out upon her face. There was absolutely no doubt that this barkeep was yet another person who had been touched by Patti’s “charm”.

“Yea, she’ll be comin’ in in about half an hour or so. Why? You one of her little, snotty friends or somethin’?” the woman asked looking very much as if she wanted to snatch Sonata’s drink away.

“Nu uh,” the former siren said with a shake of her head before taking another sip. “She uhh… She just uhh… owes me some money.”

She received yet another snort from the red head.

“Figures. That girl just can’t seem to get her shit together. Ever since she started here, she’s been late just about every shift she’s had, busy gettin’ drunk on the clock, always runnin’ off to a bathroom stall with some good for nothin’ every chance you give her.”

“Oh, really?” Sonata said, looking genuinely captivated.

“Of course, and between you and me, I don’t think you’re ever gonna get your money back, sweetheart. I’ve seen that Mint girl skimming outta the cash register before. Not very good at it either. Only a matter of time before she gets caught,” the barkeep said, picking up a fresh glass to dry.

A squeak escaped Sonata’s throat when she heard this. Her raspberry eyes gleamed with excitement.

“Why don’t you just tell whoever owns this place?” she asked as beguilingly as she could manage. The barkeep looked at her in a rather perplexed fashion.

“What do I look like, a snitch? A little rat or somethin?” she asked. “You aren’t a rat right? Cause that kinda shit can get you into a lot of trouble around here.”

Sonata coughed, caught off guard by the woman’s sudden flare of suspicion.

“No! I meant…” she thought to herself for a moment. “I’m no rat. I just… forget it.”

Eyeing the barkeep with interest, Sonata quickly figured a different approach, and tried again.

“Who does own this place, anyway? Everyone here’s so wonderful. He or she must be the nicest person in the whole wide world, huh?”

The redhead woman now glanced at the siren as if she were insane.

“You pullin’ my leg, kiddo?”

Sonata shook her head innocently, slurping up the dregs of her drink. Seeing that she was serious, the barkeep cocked an eyebrow, and sighed.

“Who owns The Tank? Why, Tank owns The Tank. You never seen him? He’s hard to miss. Huge, enormous, gray guy. Got a scar on his cheek. Likes collecting little, ceramic puppy statues. You know. Classic “don’t fuck with that guy”-type guy. He don’t always come in, though.”

Sonata had heard everything she needed to hear. Plus, she had just finished off her super yummy, “One of these days, Aria,” drinks or whatever the glass of deliciousness had been called. Thus, she decided that it was time to take her leave before Patti came in for the evening.

“That’s okay. I was just curious.”

She eyed the redheaded woman one more time with the deepest of interest, and leaned forward.

“Say, you said you’re no snitch, right?”

“‘Course not,” the woman repeated with a raspy cough.

“Great. So, then it wouldn’t be a whole lot if I asked you not to tell Patti that I was here, right?” Sonata asked, smiling sweetly. The woman peered at her with suspicion, but yet again, Sonata’s grin won her over.

“Eh. You seem like good people. My lips are sealed if yours are,” the woman said, then turning her back to the girl with an air of finality.

Smiling quite contently to herself, Sonata popped up to her feet with a giggle, and let go of the counter to pull her hood on. Teetering to the side in her tipsyness, she fell into the arms of the drunken young man who had been practically gawking beside her the entire time. Passing him an enamored gaze to meet his lecherous smile, she hiccuped once, and then spoke.

“Gosh, are you like… Superman or something? You’ve got like, super speed,” she murmured to him, her eyes wide. The man cocked an eyebrow at her.

“Baby, I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

“Really?” Sonata gasped, pushing herself out of his arms, and clasping her hands. “You can shapeshift too? I used to be able to do that! Isn’t it the best?”

After giving the now confused drunkard a polite wave, Sonata headed toward the entrance. Still teetering on her feet, she waved goodbye to the rest of the new “friends” she had made that night, and pushed her way through the door.

The wind was knocked out of her as she bumped into someone headed in the opposite direction. Being rather sturdy for such a bouncy girl—something she liked to thank her earth pony roots for—Sonata practically knocked the other person onto the ground before realizing that it was Patti that she had run into. Thankfully, the girl had not yet looked at her face, being far too busy rubbing the pain out of her backside from where she fell onto the concrete. Thinking quickly, Sonata pulled her cap low, and turned in the direction of home.

“Uhh, excuse me, Miss,” she blurted in the manliest voice she could fake, and then quickly rushed away.

“Oh, nice. Yet another gentleman,” Patti muttered to herself. “Good job not even helping me up, asshole!” she yelled, but by the time she had looked in Sonata’s direction, there was no one there.

Sonata was humming to herself by the time she got home. It was only upon entering the house that she realized how quiet it was without Aria in front of the T.V. or blasting her music from upstairs. Adagio wasn’t really one to make much noise unless she was angry and yelling; thus, the atmosphere seemed rather eerie. Nevertheless, Sonata’s spirit was uplifted. After having obtained some new dirt on Patti, and potentially getting Aria some action, she couldn’t help but feel pleasantly accomplished, rather brilliant.

Perhaps it was the warm shower that reminded her of how exhausted she had been. Maybe, it was the coziness of her pajamas, or maybe it was the warm feeling of her blankets as she crawled beneath them, but as soon as Sonata had hit her sheets, the world seemed to fade away into the most lovely haze. Maybe those haunting dreams of the ocean would leave her alone just for tonight.

The tinkling of piano keys coming from above—playing an all too familiar melody—forced her eyes open. Rousing herself from sleep, Sonata sat up in her bed, and looked at her clock. To her shock, two hours had already passed, even though she felt like she hadn’t slept at all. The persistent sound of that ominous song, at once, made her heart sink from the heights where it had flown earlier in the evening. Thus, wrestling with herself over whether or not she should heed the urge to go up to the attic, Sonata finally took a deep breath, threw off her covers, and headed out into the hallway.

Reaching up, it took a fair bit of her strength to push the attic door open without making a sound. Wincing, she froze as she heard the old wood creak upon being laid on its opposite side. Not hearing any break or slowing of the pace of the hypnotic melody coming from within, she released the breath she had been holding, and slowly tiptoed up into the dark.

The room was warmer than the rest of the house, a bit stuffy, but the small window that sat open on the far wall let in just a bit of a comforting breeze from the starry night beyond. Sonata worried herself with quietly closing the door back behind her to shut out the hallway light. She then moved to hide herself behind a large wooden crate. The thing was left unopened, caked with dust, and printed with the words “Port of New York, 1918,” on its side. Looking around the room, one could find many locked and lonesome mysteries of a similar sort, all of them splashed in moonlight.

This attic was a sort of haven for her sisters, especially Adagio who was more prone to take care of her precious belongings. The elder girl knew how to preserve things, make things last. Sonata supposed that she might even still have some old neck ruffs neatly folded away, or even a hennin—rotted, but still shaped to its perfect point—somewhere within one of these many chests and boxes.

Smiling to herself as she quietly zipped through a millenia of memories from her little corner, Sonata brought her knees up to her chest, and allowed her head to rest upon them. Glancing fondly toward her eldest sister, she sighed to herself, wondering what could possibly have had the girl so entranced that her fingers never seemed to slow, to break pace, or to rest.

The encore of that haunting tune made the younger girl's lips curl under into a slight frown. Raising her head to take a better look toward Adagio’s back, she searched for some sign as to why she would play such a song that would forevermore bring such melancholy upon their hearing it.

It was beautiful, though. Of course, she would expect nothing less from Adagio. In some ways it was as if the old magic could still be drawn from where she knew it now lay forever dormant within each note. The sound of each pulsing, crescendoing chord matched Sonata’s heartbeat, and for a moment it almost felt as if that old familiar itch might revisit her, the warmness that spread all the way out to her fingertips. Perhaps the wellspring might even open up, just a little bit, and send forth its beauty into the world through her, its vessel. Her lips parted as Adagio began the refrain once over. It became increasingly more difficult to stifle herself. Eyes wide, and glassy, she lost herself, for a tiny moment, within that gorgeous melody.

“...We’re here to let you know. Our time is now…”

Sonata’s alto, though hoarse, and still utterly imperfect to the ears of any siren, now carried with it a sad sweetness in its flaws, a type of rustic charm that seemed to betray its true age. Her long, fracturing note trailed off slowly, as did the piano, almost as if Adagio had been expecting to play in time with her all along. It seemed like forever until the lingering chord disappeared from where it dawdled upon the blue-cast walls, and then another eternity for an ensuing silence to pass between them. Sonata hadn’t the mettle. So, Adagio spoke first.

“I thought you and Aria were out for the night,” she said calmly, still facing front toward the open window.

“Just Aria. I was only gone for a little while,” Sonata replied gently, not moving from her hidden spot behind the crate. Not hearing an immediate reply, she figured that her superior was cross with her for having interrupted her private time. “Sorry. I heard the song, and… I couldn’t sleep, I guess. Are you mad?”

Adagio spun around halfway on the chair to glance in the direction of the small, semi-muffled voice. Spotting two sets of five, blue toes wiggling out from the edge of the large wooden box by the door, the elder girl couldn’t help but stifle a smile. She opted to sigh heavily instead.

“No, I’m not mad. I’m too tired to be mad. Come on out of there,” she bid her. Obeying orders, as usual, Sonata quickly got to her feet, and traversed the length of the room. Standing before Adagio, she clasped her hands together, unable to look at the seated woman’s face. She heard a scoff.

“You smell like vodka and gummy bears,” Adagio murmured, sliding over to make room for the younger girl. “And you’re tilting sideways. Sit down before you fall.”

Sonata quickly took her seat, ignoring the comment.

“So, you went out drinking,” Adagio sighed matter-of-factly. Sonata tapped her index fingers together nervously. She knew that the elder girl would probably not like the idea of her spending money so frivolously.

“Yes, but I have way extra tips. There’s still plenty more left over.”

As she finished, Adagio slowly raised her hand to stifle anything more that might come.

“It’s alright, Sonata. I said I’m not mad. I understand that perhaps you might be feeling a little… stressed. Lately, I am too.”

More silence ensued between them as the younger girl tugged anxiously at her fingers. A more serious issue rolled about in her mind.

“Adagio?” she spoke up finally. “How… how do you play that song?”

“Well, it’s not really that difficult… technically,” Adagio sighed. “I mean, it’s not supposed to be, but there are a ton of nuances that a mortal’s ears might miss in the pressure of the key taps, and—”

“No, I mean. How do you play it, knowing what it is... what it means? How do you bring yourself to do it?”

Adagio turned, and cocked an eyebrow at her.

“I was going to ask you how you could bring yourself to sing it,” she replied. There was a brief pause. “It didn’t sound too bad for what it was, actually. It was quite… quaint.”

“I thought so, too,” Sonata said, drawing an even more surprised look from her elder. She met the expression with a sweet smile. “And I can sing it because it helps me to remember… or forget, depending on whichever makes me feel better. I was scared to tell you, but I haven’t really stopped singing ever since… well, you know. I just wanted to know if you did that, too.”

The elder girl looked astonished. Caught off guard by the confidence in Sonata’s tone, she glanced down toward her feet.

“Yes, but the remembering is always painful for me, even when it’s not. And I do it because it hurts. I don’t know. There’s something satisfying in that. It feels like I’m scratching an itch.”

Sonata smirked at this, and faced front.

“Aria would love to hear you say that.”

Adagio let loose a small laugh, realizing the truth in the statement.

“I’m sure she would. So, you better not tell her.”

The smile the elder siren wore gradually melted away as thoughts of Aria permeated her mind. She and the other girl had not spoken since the evening of the fight, and ever since, despite her inability to admit that she had fouled up, Adagio had wanted to find a way to show her remorse for the terrible things she had said to her.

“So, is she… well?” she asked her subordinate. Her fingers curled under the edge of the bench, and squeezed until her knuckles turned white. She was afraid of what Sonata’s answer might be.

“I think so,” Sonata replied, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “She went on a date or something. Got all dolled up… Well, dolled up for her.”

Adagio snorted.

“Aria? On a date? What’re they gonna do, go throw rocks at windows, and crush beer cans with their foreheads?”

“Oooh, that sounds kinda fun,” Sonata murmured. “But I don’t think so. She said she was going to some girl’s house for dinner. That lady from her job.”

The elder siren suddenly looked rather surprised.

“You mean the walking vanilla ice cream cone?” she asked.

“Yea, her!”

Adagio smirked, and turned to face the piano keys again, beginning to lightly tap upon them.

“That one’s got a smart mouth… and a perfect rack. I shouldn’t even be surprised. Aria’s always known how to pick her girls. Terrible taste in men, though. I thought for sure, if anything, she’d gun for that red guy at her job, to be quite honest. Great looks, great car, utterly aggravating personality, and you know how Aria loves being aggravated. ”

She tried to smile at her own joke, but found she could not. Sonata’s silence only worked to make her discomfort even worse.

“You know, she let me do her hair and her makeup,” the younger girl blurted, attempting to change the subject. Adagio’s playing stopped.

“What?”

“Yep, and she let me come into her room, too.”

The elder girl gawked before slowly bringing her fingers down upon the keys one more time.

“Oh, she’s got it bad for that poodle, huh?”

Sonata giggled.

“I guess so,” she murmured, her smile softening ever so slightly. She glanced at her elder sister out of the corner of her eye. “You know, you should try talking to her. I don’t think she’s that mad anymore.”

Adagio rolled her eyes, beginning to play a little louder.

“I threw Swift in her face, Sonata. Trust me. She’s still mad.”

The younger girl winced at the name, tugging at her fingers yet again.

“Well… well, just do what you always do when you want her to listen to you: Lock yourself, and a plate of buffalo wings in the same room with her, and yell. That always works, right?” Sonata posed, sounding slightly desperate. Adagio did not respond, opting instead to continue her playing. A moment later, she heard Sonata sigh loudly, and stand up.

“Adagio, I’m tired! I’m tired of this whole “I know what I have to say, but I won’t because then I’ll lose” stuff! I’m tired because I can’t sleep without dreaming about beaches calling my name all night, and I don’t even wanna sleep, because I’m scared when I wake up that… that something might have happened to one of you. We have to talk about all this at some point, Dagi, because I don’t think we can live like this… like walking and talking and breathing and doing stuff without our powers or our song. It’s not what we are, and we keep taking it out on each other—Well, we always do that, but it’s getting worse! I keep feeling like something really bad is going to happen at any moment, and…” Sonata trailed off, noticing that Adagio had made no effort to turn, and look at her, or to stop playing gently in the dark of the room.

“...We’re broken, Dagi, and I think we need to be trying to figure out how to fix it… fix us, but it feels like I’m the only one that wants to or something, and I definitely can’t figure stuff like that out on my own.”

When the youngest siren’s voice faded away, only the tinkling of piano keys was left. A slight whistle of wind crept in through the open window as if to join it in harmony. Feeling dejected, Sonata let her shoulders slump, and turned to leave without another word.

“You’re right,” Adagio’s voice said over the melody. The younger girl froze in her footsteps, and turned around, her eyes wide. “We are broken. Over the past week, I’ve come to believe that the source, the wellspring from which we were made, is still whole, still intact. We can still see energy, and apparently we can still feel the energy within each other as it ebbs and flows.”

Sonata, now mesmerized by her sister’s words, took a few silent steps forward, and lowered herself to sit on the ground. Peering up at Adagio as she continued to play, it seemed as if the elder girl was now slowly putting herself into a meditative trance.

“However, if we are broken—cracked, if you will—then we can’t hold the power of the source any longer, or at least not properly, not wholly. We can call up the source. We can beckon it, even with these horrid voices of ours. I don’t think anything will ever be able to change that. But the water of the wellspring just seeps through the holes until there’s nothing left. The power is useless within us now. What I can’t seem to figure out is how to go about fixing those cracks. If we could find a way to contain the source again, then maybe… maybe… To fix a broken vessel, one needs—”

“Glue,” Sonata finished. The piano playing stopped abruptly, and Adagio spun around to face her as if she had forgotten the younger girl was even there.

“Glue?” Adagio murmured, half exasperated, half confused.

“Yea! Special glue so the pieces hold together. We just need to figure out what our glue is.”

Adagio felt irritation coming on. For once, she had allowed herself to be open in front of Sonata, and here she went again, babbling on about some random nonsense. Wincing away the beginnings of what would surely turn into anger, Adagio lifted a hand, bidding for the girl to stop speaking.

“What makes us feel like new, Dagi?” Sonata began softly, noting Adagio’s attempt at keeping her composure. “Water! What if the reason we’ve been having those dreams is because the ocean is calling us?”

Now, instead of irritation, something new sprung up in Adagio’s chest. Her heart leapt into her throat, and she felt her palms turn sweaty at the very thought of facing the ocean again, in the flesh. Like a forsaken haunt or a dysfunctional childhood home that brought up a host of painful memories about broken promises and dashed dreams, she suddenly realized that she was quite content in avoiding the place altogether. For the life of her, she couldn’t understand how Sonata could feel any different when even the thought of those blue waters in her dreams now made her want to puke.

“We’re not going anywhere near the beach,” she murmured, something dangerous and threatening in her tone. “I’ve told you once, and I’ll tell you again. We’re staying right here. If water sourced from the ocean was going to do anything, it would have done it by now.”

Realizing just how defensive she was being, Adagio quickly spun around on the bench, and began to play again. When the younger girl pleaded with her to listen, she drowned her voice out by pounding even louder upon the keys.

Determined to be heard, Sonata got to her feet, took a deep breath, and walked toward Adagio. Reaching out to the voraciously flailing figure at the bench, she touched the girl’s shoulder to draw her attention. Adagio’s playing ceased at once as her head spun around to face the younger girl. There were flames in her eyes. Instinctively, she stood up, and moved to shove her back. Sonata winced, and brought her arms up to protect herself, only to be left waiting for a blow that never came. When she worked up the nerve to look again, Adagio was standing in front of her, arms recoiled, ready to strike. A terrible look of shame was plastered across her face. At once, she brought her hands up, digging them deep into her hair. Pulling at the curls in utter frustration, she shouted as loud as she could into the air, and then collapsed to her knees on the floor.

Sonata, justifiably startled by all of this, simply stood there, hands clasped over her mouth as she stared down at her elder in shock. She dared not move, even when Adagio began to laugh—a small sound at first that grew and grew until it echoed off of the walls, and tears were leaking from the corners of her eyes.

Just as abruptly as it began, the laughing ceased, and Adagio was, again, left staring thoughtfully at the floor. There was a long silence before she took a deep breath and spoke.

“You ever wonder if all of those times we sang about getting our “reward” or “what we deserve,” if this was it?” Sonata didn’t respond; so, Adagio gazed up into her eyes. “You ever think that our being broken and miserable all the time is the way it was intended to be, or is that just me?”

“Dagi…” Sonata murmured, hesitating before joining her sister on the floor. “No. We’re supposed to be whole. We’re supposed to be happy. We’re supposed to be… exactly what we are.”

The younger girl shrugged, not knowing how else to phrase such a simple concept. Adagio’s brow knit at she listened to her words.

“We’re monsters. We lure mortals in, and drain them of their energy and their free will until barely anything is left. Come on, Sonata. I know you love all of those crappy old fairytales. The monsters aren’t supposed to win or be happy in the end.”

Sonata peered at her for a moment, disturbed that Adagio would honestly feel this way. Taking a deep breath, she leaned in, and gripped her sister’s shoulders.

“We’re not monsters, and we’re not in a fairytale, Adagio. No one gets to say whether we should be healthy and happy, or what we should do to stay that way besides us.”

Adagio scoffed, glancing again at the floor.

“The Rainbooms did.”

Sonata frowned, and placed her hands into her lap.

“Only if we sit here, and do nothing,” she replied.

Adagio then looked up at her, a half formed smile upon her face.

“We could always just take their advice, and be kind, and sweet, and hug everything we come into contact with. You could have a ton of friends down at CHS, you know.”

The younger girl’s nose scrunched up as if she had smelled something horrible.

“Hugs and friends are amazing, but being a goodie is so overrated, Adagio.” Sonata said, swatting her hand playfully in her sister’s direction. “No one’s perfect. Not even those Rainbooms girls. Mortals and immortals like that always think they’re so darn shiny and clean. They always think what they’re doing is the best thing ever, and that being good is the right way for everything in the whole universe or something…”

Sonata paused to shift her position, bringing her knees up against her chest, and resting her head upon them.

“...but what does ‘good’ even mean without us? Without beings like us, the Rainbooms wouldn’t be good. They’d just… be, and everybody wants to be something.”

A soft hum escaped from Sonata’s throat as she delved deeper into the wide spaces in her mind. Her eyes reflected the moonlight as she gazed out of the window.

“I can see why the Rainbooms exist...”

This elicited a shocked gaze from her elder, but the younger girl appeared neither bothered nor moved by this.

“... but I don’t think they get that we’re here for a reason, too. We didn’t just choose to exist. I think if those goodies got rid of every last baddie or chaos maker in the whole wide world, they’d just sit around hugging, and dancing until they all realized how lame it was, and went nuts with boredom. Then they’d just end up right back at sadness and anger where they started. Then they’d be their own baddies. There’s no getting rid of the chaos, at least not forever. No one should even try, if you ask me.”

She tapped her chin.

“Huh. They wanna save everybody in the whole wide world, but in a way, we’re kinda saving them, aren’t we?”

Adagio was at a loss for words. Peering, tight-lipped, at the younger girl, she couldn’t help but shake her head, and smile.

“Sonata, you are full of surprises, you know that?”

The blue girl looked perplexed.

“Why does everybody keep telling me that?”

Sighing heavily, and getting to her feet, Adagio dusted herself off, and reached out to help her sister up.

“Come on, I’ll make you some hot chocolate. Maybe you can work off some of whatever kind of hangover you’ll have tomorrow, you lightweight.”

“You can make hot chocolate?” Sonata asked with a genuinely astonished look on her face. “But Aria says that you cremate water.”

Adagio clenched her fist, and grated her teeth, wrestling with the idea of dropping the girl back onto the floor.

“Yea, well Aria thinks like the two millennia old grandma that she is. Have you ever seen her try to use the internet by herself?—Complete catastrophe. Maybe one day we’ll teach her about microwaves.”

The two girls laughed to themselves as they walked toward the attic door. Sonata, being ever the obedient helper, pulled the thing up, and held it for Adagio to pass through. Taking her time, the curly haired girl took one step onto the stairs, then another.

Shockwaves. A sudden punch to the chest. Tingling and warmness all over. Sonata doubled over, accidentally dropping the door. Clutching the burning place between her chest and neck, she fell to her knees, gasping for air. The room was spinning as she tried to get a grip on what was happening to her. Then, she remembered…

“Dagi!”

She fumbled desperately for the door handle in the darkness. When her fingers finally hooked around it, she yanked it open, and nearly fell forward, straight down into Adagio who now sat on the floor below. The elder girl was also clutching her chest and gasping. Thinking she might have hit her in the head with the door, Sonata prostrated herself on the attic floor, and dipped her head out of the opening.

“Dagi, are you oka—”

Another thump to the chest. They both inhaled sharply as Adagio’s eyes shot upward to stare at her sister. It seemed that in their strained, teary eyed gazes, the same message was spoken. With each thump it seemed like the juice that gave them their vigor, the very energy they required to even lift a finger, was sucked away. Trying to think through her distress, Adagio closed her eyes, and made an attempt to study the sensation. When the thump came again, she felt her arms fall limp at her sides. In a moment, they were moving, but one more thump, and suddenly her legs went numb. Her energy was being drawn from her in bouts. That was the first thing to become immediately clear.

“Leach” she stammered in her deliriousness. “Someone’s... leaching..."

Adagio choked before doubling over.

“It hurts, Adagio!” Sonata gasped trying her best to crawl safely down the attic stairs, and instead falling straight down onto the floor with a loud ‘THUD’.

Bracing themselves for a moment longer, they waited, and prayed to the seas that the invasive pain would cease. Eventually, it ebbed. Trying to catch their breaths—Sonata lying flat on her back, and Adagio propped up haphazardly against the wall beside her—they both eventually managed to turn their heads, and give each other knowing glances.

“Aria.”

Author's Note

50 (+) LIKES EXTRAVAGANZA! :yay:

I made a post on my blog a couple of days ago about it, but had to wait until a typical fic update time to do this so my other readers weren't thrown off (Idunno. Does that throw you all off?). Anyway, I just wanted to say THANK YOU, to all my amazing followers and readers who have and continue to give my fic a chance, stick with it, and enjoy it. Special thanks to my followers and readers who continuously comment, interact, listen to my music, subscribe to my youtube, and generally just continue to make my creating this thing such an enjoyable experience. You all really do make this worth while.

I'm trying to figure out something interesting to do for you all. Right now, I'm leaning toward a contest that will take place on my blog where winners get a shout out every week in the Author's Notes of this fic. I'll probably expand upon that idea on my blog later, but I'm pretty sure it's gonna be some kinda fun contest thinger.

Anyway, thanks again, and here's to your continuing enjoyment of the feels I keep throwing at your faces! :pinkiecrazy: :heart:

Flames

Something putrid had been hovering in the air ever since Aria had left the house. It was so faint that she couldn’t tell whether it was just a strong feeling or a weak scent, perhaps energy or maybe something even stranger. Whatever it was, it put her on edge, made her wary. Of course, that relentless broad called fate would have had it no other way on a night that had already seemed harrowing enough.

She had been standing there outside of Cookie’s door with her hand raised, prepped to knock for what seemed like forever. Everytime she retracted her fist, and jettisoned it forward, it would always freeze just an inch away from the white-painted wood. In her opposite hand dangled a quickly thawing six pack of beer that now leaked cold water onto her skin. The sensation only worked to heighten her restlessness.

Leaning her head against the doorframe, she sighed loudly, and reached into her pocket for the pack of cigarettes that was not there. She growled to herself. How in the world had she allowed Sonata, of all beings, to convince her not to bring them? Fumbling around for her wallet with her one, free, shaking hand, she pulled the thing out, unzipped the pocket that held the single cigarette, and popped the thing between her lips. Envisioning the sweet relief that would course through her in only a few moments, she flubbed about for her lighter.

“Come on you little piece of—”

She found it. Flicking the spark wheel once, then twice, she finally got a solid light on the third try. The flame made her deep purple eyes glimmer as she brought it close, near enough to barely lick the edge of the stick.

“Ey!” came a deep voice from somewhere to her left. Her head snapped around, unlit cigarette still clenched between her lips. Across the yard, and behind a fence, Aria was barely able to make out the outline of a stocky, bathrobe-clad man, wielding what appeared to be a baseball bat. Snorting in both relief and disbelief, she quickly put the lighter away, and pulled the cigarette from her mouth.

“Yea?” she almost laughed, finding the spectacle before her ridiculous.

“Why are ya snoopin’ around people’s doors at night, huh? You got business around here or not?” he exclaimed, making sure to give the rose-ish girl a good view of the bat. Aria eyed him for a moment, sniffing the air in his direction, trying to get a good handle on the scent of his energy. It seemed obvious, however, that this would turn out not to be the strange presence she had been sensing from earlier. She promptly rolled her eyes.

“Idunno, old man. Is that any of your business?”

“It is when it’s right next door to me!” he yelled, now incensed.

“Hey, you know what else is right next door to you?” she laughed, then reaching under her chin with the flat of the back of her hand. Sliding it out in the direction of the robed man, she made an obscene gesture.

“That’s it,” the man grumbled. “I’m calling the cops.”

“Yea, tough guy? Can’t handle your problems by yourself?” the former siren yelled just as she heard the sound of the door in front of her unlock. Before she could prepare herself—or rather, shut her mouth—the thing swung open. Cookie’s toffee eyes peered out, darting about to find the source of the commotion; they landed squarely upon her.

“Aria!” she exclaimed, her lips curling into a grin. Spotting her next door neighbor waving his bat about angrily, yelling and cursing about the police, her joy quickly seemed to dissipate. Eyes darting between the man and Aria, whose simpering smile now leaked pure guilt, Cookie seemed to immediately catch on to what had happened.

“Oh, boy,” she muttered. “Sorry, Mister Marsh! Aria’s with me!”

“You tell your delinquent friends to keep their muzzles on when they’re yappin at honest, hard workin’ people, Cookie!”

“Sorry! It won’t happen again!” the white haired girl called rolling her eyes as she tugged Aria into her house by the arm.

Slamming the door shut, she turned to stand before the embarrassed siren, a stone cold expression upon her face. Crossing her arms she waited in silence. Aria could feel the tremble already working its way up from her feet. Her entire face began to burn up, and she couldn’t even bring herself to look at anything other than Cookie’s purple socks.

“Aria Blaze, can't you leave the house without getting into a fight?” she asked calmly, her voice leaking aggravation.

Aria just stood there for a moment, happy to just allow her brain to go numb. By some miracle, something inside of her decided to persevere.

This is a good thing, she repeated to herself as if it were a mantra. Shaking her head clear, she then took a deep breath, and forced herself to look Cookie in the eyes.

“Cookie? I… I’m so, so sss…sooorr—”

“Oh, relax! I’m just messin with ya!” the other woman guffawed, leaning forward to playfully swat at the wreck of a siren standing before her. “Marsh is a retired cop. He’s always paranoid like that.”

The curly-haired woman glanced down at the case of bottles hanging from Aria’s fingers, and quickly moved to snatch it from her.

“What’s this? Seven dollar convenience store beer! Aria, you truly are a woman after my own heart.”

Cookie nudged her playfully with her elbow before walking around her toward the living room, leaving Aria stunned, confused, and slightly pleased with herself. She didn’t move again until she heard her name being called from her rear. Spinning around, she quickly walked toward the voice whilst pulling off her jacket. Remembering the cigarette still in her hand, she decided it was too late to smoke it anyway, and tucked it back into its designated pocket within her wallet.

Nearing the corner that turned into the living room proper, a strange scent wafted into Aria’s nose, and stayed there—or was it a strange energy? It wasn’t the one that had been nagging her from before. It was too strong, too familiar, one that she knew she had smelled often, but in the setting of Cookie’s home, she could not quite place it. A strange jingling sound, like someone rattling keys, suddenly caught her ears as she reached the turn in the hallway. It seemed to be coming closer.

It dawned on her just as soon as the low growling began, and as she turned into the living room, a large mound of white fuzz and drool leapt directly onto her. Yelling fearfully as the dog continued to growl, she very nearly tumbled onto the ground before managing to scramble away.

“Get it off!” she cried, flailing her arms about as the creature approached, sniffing, then panting, and then growling. It seemed as if the pooch were confused as to what to make of the frantic girl before him.

“Aria?” Cookie cried as she popped her head back into the hallway. Seeing her friend in distress, she quickly approached to intervene. “Pud, ya big dummy! Get off of her!”

Turning around another bend, a sense of panic enveloped Aria as she bumped into a corner. Finding no escape from the approaching deadly mass of fuzz, her sirenesque instincts kicked in. She hunched forward, arching her back. Opening her eyes wide, she bared her teeth, and let out a low, threatening, almost too authentic growl. The fuzzy white creature before her seemed to understand this familiar language, and immediately hushed its noise. Laying docile upon the ground, it whimpered, and wagged its tail, as if to apologize.

She wasn’t taking any chances. The startled siren maintained her stance, hissing and taking a step forward to spur the vanquished creature back. This was how Cookie found her after popping her head around the corner.

“Puddin!” Cookie yelled, not yet having noticed Aria’s strange behaviour. At the sound of her voice, Aria and the dog broke their intense glares into each others eyes, and turned toward the curly-haired woman. The poor dog, relieved to see its friend come to save it, bounded up, and circled round to Cookie’s rear, licking her hand. Aria, her breath still belabored, moved to stand up straight, and fix any possibly misplaced hair or clothing. Fortunately, Cookie was too busy patting the dog’s head to notice any of this. Afterward, she glanced up toward her friend.

“I’m sorry, Aria! I completely forgot to tell you I have a dog! I… I didn’t think it would be a problem. I figured you of all people weren’t scared of anything.”

Aria looked at her incredulously whilst still attempting to fan the fluster from her cheeks.

“I wasn’t scared,” she blurted. “I was just… caught off guard.”

Cookie passed a sly grin her way.

“Riiight. Well, in case you were wondering, this is Puddin, Pud for short. I’ve had him forever. Can’t believe I’ve never even mentioned him. I guess it’s cause he’s always attached to my hip when I'm home. It’s like he’s just another part of my body at this point. You wanna pet him? He’s real friendly once he gets to know you.”

Cookie stepped toward Aria, ushering Puddin forward by the back of the collar—an act which was clearly met with much resistance by the fearful dog.

“No, that’s okay! I can see him just fine from here. He’s a real cute… creature!” Aria stammered whilst waving from her corner. Eyeing her strangely, Cookie shrugged, and then looked down toward her dog. Patting him on the back, she bid him to go away.

“Go on, Pud. Get outta here. This is supposed to be a relaxing night for Aria, and you’ve already given her about three heart attacks. Mission accomplished.”

The dour girl took a moment to lean over, close her eyes, and take one more relieved breath after she saw the giant fuzzball actually leave.

“Are you alright?” Cookie asked. Aria began to nod until, to her shock, she felt a warm hand gently rest upon her back. Jolting away from the touch, she glared at Cookie wide-eyed. The other woman immediately seemed regretful, almost frightened of what Aria might do. She raised her hands and shook them apologetically.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I… I forgot. I promise I won’t do it again,” Cookie blurted. The two stood there looking at each other as Aria watched the other woman slowly curl into herself. Her cheeks turned red, and her gaze fell to the floor in embarrassment. Knocking her palm against her forehead, Cookie then gave her a determined look.

“C… can we just… do all of this over again?” she asked, almost pleading. It took a while, but gradually, a relieved smile crept over Aria’s face. The former siren stood up straight, and nodded.

Stars, yes.

Cookie busied herself switching on her T.V. and then, somewhat ironically, turning down the volume. Finally, she had a chance to comfortably get a look at Aria. As soon as she gazed at the somewhat nervous-looking woman, her smile seemed to falter ever so slightly. Aria, who had been busying herself with the task of trying to figure out where to stow her jacket, soon gave up, opting to drape it over the back of the living room couch. Looking up, she was met with the other woman’s odd glare.

“What?” she asked, her eyes darting about anxiously.

“Nothing! It’s just that…” Cookie began. “Ya look, really nice. Love the hair.”

She said this with a pleased nod, as if she had been the one who had put all the work into Aria’s appearance that evening. The otherwise dour siren had to bite down upon the edge of her tongue to keep her face from curling up into that same, stupid smile.

“Urrryeathanks,” she muttered, beginning to pace around the couch like a content cat. When the curly-haired woman turned the corner to head off somewhere, Aria exhaled. Finally, she was free to take in everything she could about Cookie’s living room. It seemed the perfect opportunity to figure out what each and every object she spied said about her.

There was a rack of guitars leaning up by the room’s entrance, sitting beneath photos of what Aria could only assume were Cookie’s former bandmates. One of them, a strikingly good-looking, redhead of a man, had his arm wrapped around her in a way that made it seem that they had been a little more than simply bandmates. At once, the dour girl crossed her arms, and smirked. Peering closer, she studied the guy, trying to figure out what in the seas could have possibly been so special about him that Cookie would…

Pssh. Whatever.

Spinning about, her eyes then caught sight of the obvious spot in the back of the room where all of Cookie’s culinary photos and awards were hung. Warily walking past Puddin who was now sitting quietly behind the couch, she stuck her tongue out at him in warning, and then turned to stare at the wall.

Certifications, reviews, and accolades littered the surface by the rear window, amongst various photos of Cookie basking in all of her comestible glory. Prodigy, indeed. Looking at all of this now, that seemed to be a bit of an understatement. However, what was most shocking about all of these items were the dates on them. If Aria were to calculate correctly, the oldest of her awards was only from five years ago, meaning all of the adventures, all of the stories of music and the road that the former siren enjoyed so much had taken place in a relatively short and recent period of time. To Aria, Cookie just as well could have opened her music shop yesterday. She turned toward the door where the woman had disappeared, calling over the sound of a sink tap running somewhere in the other room.

“When you said you were exceptional at cooking, I didn’t know that you meant you were born some kind of stove goddess. Geez!”

She heard Cookie laugh from the other room.

“I know my way around a kitchen!” she replied.

Growing more curious, Aria made her way through the far door toward what she assumed was the kitchen, and turned into the room to find Cookie washing her hands, and other various utensils in the sink. Glancing around at the counter, it seemed obvious that she was about to do some serious cooking. Aria gulped, suddenly feeling a twinge of guilt.

“Cookie, you really don’t have to go through all this trouble. I will eat stale fast food burgers covered in dirt. I’m serious. I’ve actually done that... like... today.”

The white-haired woman looked back over her shoulder to give Aria the most mischievous of grins.

“Oh, it’s not going to be any trouble at all!” she murmured, turning around with a freshly cleaned spoon and pot in her hands. Sauntering up toward Aria, her smile seemed to grow ever more devious with every step until she stood right before the now anxious siren.

“Uhh… I-It’s not?” Aria croaked, quite confused.

“Nope!” Cookie snorted, tossing the pot and spoon into the sullen woman's arms. “Because we’re gonna make it together!”

“Oh okay,” Aria nearly laughed despite not knowing precisely what emotion she was feeling in response to this news. “And what, exactly, are we making?”

For a moment she felt worried thinking Cookie might name something spectacular, impossibly difficult, something that would surely result in Aria burning her house down to the ground.

“Lasagna, of course!” Cookie chuckled, motioning to another far counter where a pile of very obvious lasagna ingredients were stacked in the corner.

“Oh,” Aria murmured, surprised to find that she now felt slightly disappointed. Honestly, she couldn’t name exactly what it was that she had been expecting, but lasagna wasn’t it. Not that she didn’t like the dish. She had actually made it in a myriad of ways over the past century or so. It was just that the meal was relatively simple to her considering she was old enough to have made it from scratch hundreds if not thousands of times. She glanced up toward Cookie, passing her a false grin.

“Oh?” Cookie mimicked her, narrowing her eyes.

“I… I just figured someone like you wouldn’t be able to even tolerate something so… so…” Aria stammered.

“Quaint? Rustic? Simple?” Cookie chuckled, finishing up at the sink. “Sugar, I toured in a band, and lived out of a giant truck for five years. I’m not some snooty, highbrow, wine spitter or somethin. Well, I can be, but that’s not really me. That’s why I left all that behind.”

Eyeing Aria with interest again, her sly grin returned.

“But if you’re saying that it isn’t that big of a deal, then I suppose you wouldn’t mind making it yourself! It would give me a chance to get dessert done at the same time. I mean, unless you don’t think you can do it, or...”

Aria cocked an eyebrow at these words. Her very aura suddenly seemed to ignite.

“Is that a challenge?”

“Oh, no, no, no, Doll! I would never,” Cookie lied, not even trying to hold back her grin anymore. Before she could get another word out, Aria had traversed the distance between them both, forgetting her nervousness, and apparently the dictates of personal space. She’d never noticed it before, probably because she had never dared to get so close, but interestingly enough, it turned out that she was a slight bit taller than the object of her affection. It made her feel that much more confident. Smirking, she placed one hand upon her hip, and held out the other in the direction of the fridge which Cookie was leaning up against.

“Hand me one of those beers, short stuff,” she murmured, never breaking her gaze. Cookie, not being one to rattle so easily rolled her eyes, turned, popped open the fridge to retrieve a cold bottle, and tossed it into Aria’s waiting hand. Using the top of the container, the siren pointed it right up against the other woman’s chest.

“You wanted some fun facts about me, Cookie? Here’s a fun fact for you. I used to work in a scullery. I can guarantee that I’ve made pasta more times than you have in your entire life. I’ll make you that lasagna. A good one, at that. You just make sure that cake or pie or whatever it is you’re dreaming up is done when I am.”

Leaning to one side with the bottle, and bringing her boot up, Aria hooked the container’s cap onto one of its metal buckles, and quickly popped the thing open.

“I wouldn’t want it to get cold,” she finished. Taking a swig, she then walked away toward the back counter. Cookie watched her go, giving her a smirk of her own. Crossing her arms, she smiled and turned back around to the fridge to pull out the ingredients for dessert.

“Those are some big words!” she chuckled.

“Made for big people,” Aria taunted her as she began to chop tomatoes. Cookie snorted.

“You’ve got like an inch and a half on me. What, now you’re gonna make that a thing?”

“Oh, no, no, no! I would never!” Aria joked.

Screw that. There was no chance in the multiverse that she was ever going to call anyone "Doll".

___

Aria did the best she could to hold Cookie’s gaze with a straight face as she watched her chew. She would rather die than admit that she was nervous, but just at that moment, she felt a bead of sweat working its way down the back of her neck. That eerie aura from before still thinly permeated the air. Along with Pud, who sat on the floor by Cookie’s feet, whining for all the delicious smelling food that he couldn’t have, they both worked to irritate her. A few moments later, Aria became tired with all of the annoying noise, and sighed.

“Well?” she urged, leaning in closer upon the kitchen counter where Cookie was hunched over, munching. The curly haired woman sat up straight, casually finished her mouthful, swallowed, and cocked an eyebrow at Aria.

“I can’t tell whether or not I like it,” she murmured. “I’m gonna need two more pieces, just to make sure.”

A relieved smile spread across Aria’s face, and she finally took a seat upon the stool that lingered behind her.

“Told you it would be good,” she laughed, polishing off her bottle of beer, and placing it down upon the countertop. “Now what about that cake, or whatever? Why don’t you break that out, and let me splash my judgement all over it?”

Cookie laughed.

“Tell you what. Let’s carry all this stuff to the couch, and then you can have at it, you spiteful, little gremlin, you.”

“You should see what I’m like if I eat after midnight,” Aria snorted, grabbing the lasagna pan. Turning, she headed in the direction of the living room.

“Bring the beer!”

By the time she plopped down upon the comfortable couch, Aria was already chewing on a gobful of her lasagna, utterly shocked at how good it tasted. Maybe it was because Cookie, being a former chef, chose to use better ingredients, but she just couldn’t stop eating it.

By the seas, Aria. You are a frikkin’ lasagna savant.

She was still chewing when Cookie joined her, carrying the beer in one hand, and what seemed to be a large pan containing a giant cookie in the other. Her interest piqued, Aria placed her plate down upon the coffee table in front of her, and leaned forward to get a better look.

“Wrrsrt?” she mumbled through her mouthful whilst grabbing a fresh beer from the pack, and wrenching it open against her boot again. Cookie smiled, and jumped onto the seat next to her.

“Blackberry clafoutis,” she said, picking up her own plate of lasagna, and taking a bite.

“Blackberry what?” Aria asked, snorting at Cookie’s pronunciation.

“Cla-foo-tee. It’s French!”

Aria threw her head back, and let loose her all too familiar cackle. She was familiar with the dessert, of course, but not the way Cookie had vocalized it.

“I bet it is!” she guffawed as she watched Cookie breaking a piece off of it with a fork, and holding it up for her to take.

“Shut up, and just try it, okay?” Cookie muttered, her cheeks going red. Still smiling, Aria placed her beer down, plucked the fork from her fingers, and popped the pastry into her mouth, preparing to be utterly unsurprised.

She should have known better. Just the fact that the thing contained blackberries was enough to send her hurtling backward into nostalgic bliss. Breaking away from memories that were sure to turn sour if she followed their course for too long, she chewed, savoring the creamy texture, and the comforting sweetness. This was definitely way better than the stuff they were calling clafoutis a century and a half ago.

“Aw man,” she groaned, reaching out to pull the pan away from Cookie’s grasp. Immediately, she dug in again with her fork, shoving a bigger piece into her mouth. The other woman laughed.

“I take it that means you like it! Some critic you turned out to be!”

“I need to… reassess the… crumb consistency and the... something,” Aria muttered through a mouthful of the dessert, passing the other woman as serious a look as she could manage.

“Well, at least leave some for me!” Cookie said reaching out for the pan. Aria pulled away, playfully.

“I didn’t see your name written on it,” the former siren scoffed. “I advise you to take your grievances up with management.”

Cookie smirked, then allowing her expression to melt into a full blown smile. Laughing to herself she watched Aria huddle into the corner of the opposite side of the couch with her coveted clafoutis as she stuffed piece after piece into her maw. The rose-colored girl even edged away when Pud sauntered up toward her, begging for some of the treat. Eager to be rid of him, she plucked a single blackberry from the pan, and tossed it over her shoulder, hoping that would keep him far, far away.

She knew she shouldn’t have been shocked that actually spending time with Cookie would feel effortless. That’s the way it had always been between them. Now sitting there, feet kicked up on the coffee table, stomach filled to the brim with tons of great food and cheap booze, Aria couldn’t help but wonder why she had ever felt nervous in the first place.

“Hey, Aria,” Cookie said after a while of staring at the T.V. in silence. “Can we, maybe, talk for a second?”

Oh. Right.

Now, she remembered—the incident at Bubbles. The air had immediately seemed to change somehow. Inhaling an all too familiar scent, Aria turned to find that plumes of negative energy had slowly begun to seep from Cookie’s skin. The energy was particularly pungent, rich with the distinct aroma of uncertainty and doubt. Warding off her now useless urge to feed, she roughly rubbed the scent out of her nose with her palm, and then sat up.

“Y… yea. Sure. What about?”

As if she didn’t know.

“About last week. About that whole thing,” Cookie stammered, moving to switch off the television. Aria couldn’t bring herself to respond. Her fingers clasped together tightly as she waited for her next words.

“I just wanted to apologize,” Cookie continued. “I shouldn't have pushed you over the edge like that."

"Don't worry about it," Aria said, hoping that this might be the end of the matter, but knowing that it wouldn't. She glanced down toward her boots. Cookie raised her hand in protest.

"No, don't say that, Aria. I do have to worry about it, cause... weeell... I care about you..."

Aria's head shot upward to stare straight ahead at nothing. Everything inside of her seemed to explode into color.

"... and all of these mysteries and secrets on top of how upset you were just made me think that maybe you weren't alright. The way you acted made it seem like you haven't been for a while. Idunno. I don't know much of anything about you, Sugar, but you should know that you can tell me if you ever want to. I understand if you can't, though."

She couldn't look at her. She swore if she did she might actually explode. Keeping her gaze fixed upon the blank screen of the T.V., Aria took a deep breath, and held it as she seemed to be deciding on exactly what to say. Finally, after what seemed to be forever, she exhaled.

"There was somepo—... someone a long, long time ago," she breathed. Nodding to herself, she attempted to fight off every last screaming voice in her head that insisted that speaking about this was a bad idea. "Someone I couldn't get away from. They..."

She couldn't mention it, choosing instead to look down at her boots for a moment.

"...And it was a mess. That's why I have this."

In one awkward motion, Aria lifted her arm, revealing the deep purple bruise beneath it. With much hesitation she then reached down toward the bottom of her tank top, and pulled the side of it up to reveal her lower ribs. There, only slightly visible, was yet another deep scar.

“And this,” she finished.

She heard Cookie inhale sharply. Unable to look at her, the former siren turned away, opting to face the doorway out of sheer embarrassment. A palpable silence ensued for what seemed to be an eternity. She heard the other woman take a deep breath.

“W… what is that… on your ribs?” Cookie asked. It took a moment for Aria to be able to bring herself to respond.

“It was the stupidest decision I’ve ever made… or the best. I’m still not sure,” she murmured ominously.

For a second, she thought she might vomit at how painful the sporadic silences seemed. A wave of relief washed over her when she heard Cookie take another deep breath.

"You know, living on the road, you see and experience a lot of wild shit."

There was a distinct sound of Cookie rising from her seat, and then the shuffling of clothing.

"I don't know if this even means anything to show you this. I don't know if I could even comprehend what you've been through, but just know, Aria, that you don’t have to feel alone."

All of the sounds stopped for long enough for Aria to wonder why. Turning her head ever so slightly to peer over her shoulder, she caught a glimpse of Cookie standing with the side of her shirt hoisted up to reveal her left hip. The former siren's eyes went wide as she caught sight of a long, deep, ghastly, running gash that traveled from the woman's side all the way up to where her rib cage began. A myriad of emotions struck her, the most prominent being that of astonishment at this revelation, and rage at whoever had committed such a heinous act against such a seemingly undeserving person.

Aria instinctively sprung to her feet. Not knowing what else to do with herself, her hands clenched and released in and out of fists, over and over. If only she still had her powers. If only. She would charm Cookie silly just for the chance of coaxing a name out of her—one wretched name. Then she would hunt them, and feed on them to the point of insanity before kicking their head in with the steel toe of her favourite boots.

"Wh... who..." she stuttered, too angry and confused to properly form words. Her gaze shot upward, and caught Cookie right in the eyes. Those eyes met hers with a look of understanding. The saddest smile flickered across her face before she huffed.

"I can't tell you," Cookie said, almost amused by the irony of her being the one to say these words. "And it doesn't even matter anymore because it's over, at least to me."

Meanwhile, Aria had frozen to the spot where she stood. She had goofed up. She had forgotten that she wasn't supposed to look at her. She knew that she wouldn't be able to think clearly if she did.

Aria wasn't a known crier, and she would battle anyone who claimed differently, but at that particular moment, she felt like a shaken can of soda on the brink of eruption. A million different thoughts zipped through her mind for a million different reasons.

Spirits, she's so utterly unhateable. How could anyone do that to her? Why would they want to? How... I can kill 'em. Mortals do that all the time. I can still find ways. Stars, I wish I could... I wish there was a way to just... just go back and...

Aria's shoulders slumped in defeat, knowing that Cookie was right. There was nothing to do at this point. What was done was done, and now it was over. Still, the former siren couldn't help but wonder how she could be so okay about it all. How could she keep smiling, and joking, and laughing when the world—in any part of the multiverse—seemed to be such an ugly place to those who least deserved it? Didn't she just want to burn it all down, and laugh at its ashes? That’s how Aria felt. Why not her?

It was then that the former siren spotted Cookie’s outstretched hand beckoning toward her. Unsure, she hesitated for a moment before willing her feet to move forward. A rose-ish row of fingers stretched out toward a caramel-set, and upon their meeting, intertwined with them. For the grand show of mettle and ferocity that Aria always displayed to the world, in that moment, she found that she had none left to even properly curl her fingers. It was the hazel-eyed woman who squeezed her hand reassuringly.

Suddenly, for the first time in such a long, long while, everything was beautiful in Aria’s world. She couldn’t remember a single thing that was wrong, or that worked to irritate her. Everything felt realer than it had for decades. Dropping her guard, she lost herself in the sensation of their hands touching. Looking up a moment later, she swore she caught a flicker of something in those hazel eyes. What was it? Most of her sensibilities were too erratic at the moment, but glancing around the white-haired woman, Aria could at least see that there wasn’t a trace of murky green to be found. Everything seemed crystal clear; thus, the siren supposed that what the flicker in those eyes meant was crystal clear as well. Finally, returning the sure grip upon her hand, Aria yanked Cookie toward her.

The way their lips met—It was perfect, just as she had imagined it might be. It was like a shock to her system, a more invigorating elixir than the most dense puff of emerald-hued energy. She found herself snatching her closer, leaning in further, pushing against a figure that didn’t seem to be wrestling or pushing back until they fell against the couch. Both surprised, their lips shifted apart just long enough for Cookie to gasp.

“A-Aria?” she murmured, her voice trembling. Before she could continue, Aria advanced again, almost certain that if she separated herself from her warmth for too long, she might actually die.

By the seas, the way she feels is so… And the way she smells is better than… Spirits, don’t let it end…

A hand was placed on the siren’s chest, and she moaned at the sensation, a shiver rolling up her spine. Leaning in further, she was startled when the hand didn’t budge, but instead kept her at a distance. It then began to gently push her away. At the threat of having the air slowly pressed out of her lungs, Aria pulled away for a moment, dizzy with joy. Wrapping her fingers around the wrist that held steadfast against her, she allowed her eyes to open.

“Yes?” she panted, moving her love drunk gaze up toward Cookie’s eyes.

Immediately, the smile fell off of her face when she noticed the woman's expression of guilt and hesitation. Looking around in her daze, suddenly, the siren became aware of the murky green that had erupted from somewhere to surround them both. Dread slowly began to seep into her very bones as the hazel-eyed woman began to shake her head.

Bounding upward and away from Cookie to sit on her knees, Aria pushed the loosened strands of hair away from her face. Her purple eyes went wide with confusion as she studied the woman’s horribly embarrassed expression.

“Aria, I’m sorry,” Cookie whispered, immediately sitting up to reach out toward her, to find some possible way to comfort her from the fallout she knew was coming.

Aria jerked her arm beyond Cookie’s reach. Her brow knit as shame took the place of confusion, and anger the place of shame. Searching desperately within those hazel eyes for a sign that she had not made a mistake, Aria eventually willed herself to speak.

“You… you’re not…” the former siren stuttered.

Cookie just stared at her, not knowing what to say, her own mouth gawking open and shut.

“B-but I thought that y-you…”

Aria's palm collided so hard against her own creased brow that, at once, it set her entire world right side up again. Cold reality descended upon her, as familiar and despised as ever. That rank smell of green haze filled her nostrils, and electrified her mind into alertness. The gloom that, a few moments prior, had seemed to let up for the first time in ages, now crowded around her more densely than before. She should have suffocated, and yet her once fevered breath now slowed down to a steady and eerie calm. Her eyes shot open, pupils sharp, and trained upon a singular point, straight ahead.

Seeing clearly the change within the woman before her, Cookie made a last ditch effort to reach her through the growing storm clouds in her mind.

“Aria, please calm down. It’s alright. I think maybe we’re both getting ahead of ourselves. Let's just relax and talk ab—"

"Do you have a phone?" the dour girl interrupted in a frightening monotone, her clenched hand dragging down the center of her face. The sound of her voice made Cookie's words catch in her throat.

"Aria, please. I—"

"Do you or don't you?"

Her eyes bore into Cookie's in a way the curly-haired woman had never seen before. It was terrifying, cold, disconnected. Still, for the sake of what their relationship meant to her, she persevered.

"Just listen to me for a min—"

Aria bounded from the couch, snatching up her jacket with one hand, and marching straight away toward the front door. Cookie, taking a split second to compose herself, followed her. By the time she turned the corner, the former siren had already put on the jacket, and was turning the doorknob.

"Aria Blaze, you hold it right there!" Cookie exclaimed in her typical, authoritative fashion from where she stood on the opposite end of the hallway. Aria's head snapped around to glare at her, and when she did, the other woman’s blood ran cold. Her knees felt as if they might buckle and collapse. The look the former siren gave her was something horrid, something lacking all feeling. It wasn't an expression that people gave to each other. It was a look passed between two beings of unequal and incomparable rank. It made Cookie feel small and afraid. Unable to make anymore words come out of her mouth, she just watched, wide eyed, as Aria turned again, and quickly disappeared out of the door.

____

Aria cursed Adagio's hesitation to sell some of her useless old jewelry in order to buy them phones during her entire walk to the gas station—seven blocks away. Sure, nothing had been stopping her from selling a few of her own items, perhaps a valuable, old instrument, or one of the precious vinyls from her collection, but that wasn't the point. Adagio hoarded way more stuff than she did, most of it things that no longer served any purpose. Besides, wasn't she supposed to be the leader or whatever? This was supposed to be her responsibility. They could have been living like kings if it weren't for that damn, big-hipped, harpy, and her inability to part with a bunch of shiny rocks, and even if that was such a damn problem, why didn't she just go digging through some of Sonata's old crap? Surely, someone on this wretched planet would have paid top dollar for a vintage yo-yo, or rocking horse, or ball of lint or whatever it was the spacey ditz found entertaining.

The dour girl fumed as she continued to think up more outlets for her fury. On the way to the gas station, she managed to wrench her hair loose from its ponytail, and wipe all of Sonata's gunk from her face until she felt something of her old self again. When she had made herself so angry she could barely see straight, her mind simply set itself ablaze, erratic, full of explosive sound effects rather than images and words. That strange, ominous presence or scent, whichever it might have been, seemed to have grown stronger since the beginning of the night, and now worked to provoke her even more. When she walked into the fluorescent lighting of the gas station, she very nearly gave the kid at the register a heart attack when she approached her, and pounded upon the countertop.

"Where's your phone?" she growled. As the poor girl scrambled beneath the counter, Aria fished around in her pockets for something until she found what it was she had been looking for. Pulling out a crumpled and torn strip of paper with a phone number scrawled upon it, Aria straightened the thing out just as the cashier attendant plopped the phone down upon the slab. Snatching the receiver up whilst, for once, thanking her lucky stars that she had been paranoid enough to pick the slip up off of the workbench earlier that day, Aria then dialed the number, and waited impatiently. After a few rings, someone picked up on the other line.

"What?" came a familiar voice with a country twang.

"Wheeler?" Aria grumbled.

"Knew it!" Wheeler exclaimed. "What can I do ya for, sweet cheeks?"

There was a pause as Aria closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, contemplating the scientific plausibility of reaching through a phone in order to strangle someone.

"You know what? Nevermind," she murmured quietly, moving to hang up.

"No, wait! I'm sorry!" she heard Wheeler yell through the receiver. "Idunno what I did, but still, sorry! Whaddya need?"

She rubbed her temples a bit.

"That ticket to the Sunburns still up for grabs?" she asked, doing her best to keep her composure with the man on the other line.

"You bet your sweet, little caboose it is. You in?"

"I'm in. Pick me up by the Grub n' Go... Fuck, that's a stupid name... Anyway, pick me up there."

"On mah way, honey. You sit tight."

"Hold on a second," Aria cut in. Quickly looking up to the cashier, she peered at her sharply. "You got Bronco cigs?"

The skinny, young girl shook her head frantically. Aria rolled her eyes, and then put her ear back onto the receiver.

"Wheeler, find me a pack of broncos, will ya?"

"You got it. Later."

Slamming the phone down upon the hook, Aria turned, and marched out of the store without another word. Walking out near the road, and leaning up against a streetlight, a thought suddenly struck her. Pulling her wallet out of her pocket, she unzipped the compartment that held the single cigarette. Quickly snatching it up, and popping it between her lips, she then grabbed her lighter, and lit its edge. Inhaling deeply, her eyes closed in relief. Feeling an artificial sense of calm beginning to course through her veins, Aria then gazed lazily ahead, as unamused and emotionless as ever. Every deceptive incident that had taken place since Cookie had handed her that stupid tupperware box zipped through her mind.

Welp.

She exhaled a plume of smoke, not blinking when the breeze blew it and that strange, nagging aura right back into her face.

Rager it is, then.

Author's Note

I really let my ship flag fly on this one. It had to happen at some point. Can I live? :raritydespair:

Also, I've realized... way too much Aria going on. SO, I'm gonna try to post the last chapter in this 'arc' or whatever it's called by Monday. That means next week we can actually get into one of the other girls' dirty laundry... closet skeletons... roosting chickens... all that. :trollestia:

Onto You

REMOVE

The venue, a small, dingy bar sitting out front of an enormous, poorly kempt yard, was alive with yelling, laughing, screaming, and the powerful vibrations of an opening band just getting warmed up. For Aria and Wheeler, it was the perfect time to get “tanked up,” as the red man liked to put it. To him, there was no better way to be but half sloshed whilst taking a glorious dive off of the Sunburns’ stage. To Aria, this was a prime opportunity to scrub, scour, and completely erase the happenings of that evening from her mind.

“Who woulda thought a little thing like you could put away this much booze?” Wheeler laughed as he poured them both another round of shots from a fifth of whiskey he had obtained. Hiccuping, he almost swayed right off of his seat before managing to compose himself. Grinning brightly at Aria who sat across from him at the dingy, little, wooden table, he noted that her eyes happened to be even more lidded than usual.

“What’s this feelin’ I’m feelin’? I think it’s pride or somethin’.”

“Or it’s the three other drinks you’ve already had coming back up to say hi to you,” Aria replied, pulling one of the small glasses close to her side of the table.

Ignoring her, and turning about in his seat to face the rest of the rather grim and tattered crowd standing in the bar, Wheeler then spread his arms out wide, and let off a loud whistle.

“Y’all see this pretty, little lady right here? She's workin’ her way to near a fourth of that there bottle-a whiskey! Can I pick ‘em or what?”

By this time of night, most of the crowd was equally as inebriated. They responded to the teetering man, and the grim girl sitting across from him with either a round of enthusiastic hoots or unimpressed jeering. Wheeler stood, and took an almost expected self-congratulatory bow. Aria, hiding the roll of her eyes behind her overgrown fringe, forced a clearly fake smile, raised a fresh shot glass to the patrons, and threw its contents back.

Morons.

Sighing out the pleasant fire coursing down her throat, she waited for Wheeler to take his seat before passing him an exasperated look.

“All that pride is well earned, Mud. Spirits know that you could drive a girl to drink.”

Leaning her head back against the chair, and closing her eyes again, Aria wondered whether or not she had yet to consume enough alcohol to forget all that had transpired that evening. Licking the liquor from her lips, her brow knit at the realization that the taste of Cookie still lingered there, ever so faintly. She mused on the notion that it might never fade away. A small smile broke out on her face when she acknowledged that she didn’t want it to.

“Aria, you are a woman after my own heart,” Wheeler muttered.

Now she was grimacing. It seemed the stars were aligning that night to completely destroy what was left of her sanity. Plus, that strange aura in the air—now confirmed to be a scent after all—had apparently been made stronger with the help of the booze now coursing through her bloodstream—or was it that it was actually getting stronger... closer? She smelled the air again with intent. Something small, a quick flash of speculation, sparked in the back of her mind. Her eyes shot open when her thoughts were interrupted by Wheeler’s whooping and yelling. Groaning as she rubbed her temples, Aria snatched up the whiskey bottle, and bounded to her feet. She headed toward the yard in the back of the bar where the openers had just finished their set.

“Hey! Where ya goin’?” Wheeler called out to her. She winced.

“Aw, Wheeler. Shut up, and finish your damn shots. I just wanna catch the opening.”

“Well, I hope you’re not gonna do anythin’ stupid with the resta that fifth!” Wheeler laughed, staring down the small glasses left sitting before him. “Damn, I’m gonna need more food.”

Sweeping her hair over her shoulder to catch some of the cool night air upon her back, Aria allowed Wheeler’s excited yelling to fade into the distance as she made her way out into the yard. The Sunburns would be next for sure, and she wanted to be right there in the middle of it all where the wail of Bender Bridges’ guitar could hit her square on in the face. Perhaps then she might be able to forget.

RAGE

White lights blinded her. The wail of three screaming stringed instruments blasted through the speakers, crowding her head. A rhythmic punch beat against her chest as the drums started up, and an anguished screech resounded over the crowd. All of a sudden, chaos seemed to break out around her. Bodies began running, punching, flying through the air, and slamming against each other.

It was absolutely gorgeous.

Aria looked at the raging crowd around her, writhing about, trying to purify themselves of their own enormous, green fog of energy, and couldn’t help but feel pride in knowing that she and her sisters might have been the ones to bring about the seeds of confusion and anger that resulted in such a beautiful outlet. These people, unbeknownst to them, were her children. This enormous strip of torn up grass and disturbed earth was her temple. In their strife, she could hear them calling her name.

She smiled at the irony that something as beautiful, as deceptively neat and serene as a siren song could stir the spirits of mortals so thoroughly that this kind of wildness would be the inevitable outcome. Yet, one couldn't argue with results. This was the way it had always been, even before her own existence—chaos out of order and order from chaos, an eternal dance between darkness and light. It was here, in places like this, among mortals like these, that she found the remnants of her long lost glory, a requiem to what she once was.

In a way, being out there was an experience similar to when she was singing. The world became a blur whose nuances and intricacies didn’t matter. In the midsts of the hoard, her mind reeling at the heavy scent of fleeting negative energy, she felt herself flying, too. Things went dark, and the next second, countless hands were upon her, snatching her up into the air. For a moment, she floated joyously upon a sea of bedlam. A hard cuff to her back jolted her awake in the middle of the pit, and she smiled at the sensation of the sting. Throwing herself up against some faceless body, she screamed in elation before the wind was knocked out of both their lungs as their bones collided together; they both laughed as the ache seemed to coarse from one to the other. The world went black, again. The music raged on.

Yelling. A punch to her head. Some faceless body was shouting expletives at her, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember what it was that she had done. Thus, Aria supposed that she hadn’t done anything at all, and swung back hard at a bare jaw, once, then again, then again until there was a spurt of red. A pair of strong arms snatched her up, and carried her away. That delicious smell of green had all but faded, worked out completely in those first glorious moments of furor. However, it seemed that the embarrassed look she remembered being on Cookie’s face still wouldn’t vanish from her mind. That strange scent grew ever stronger, and oddly enough, more enticing. She sniffed the air. The tiny hairs on her back and arms rose like that of a provoked predator.

REPLACE

She could have any willing body filled with turmoil and confusion. In this crowd, that wouldn’t be difficult to find. What she wanted, however, was to find the source of that maddening scent. There was something about it that was different from all the rest, something that made it feel like it was made just for her. Unable to get a stronger handle on it, it was difficult to read, especially amongst all these anxious mortals. Yet, she was still intent on seeking it out.

At this point, she could barely make out any vision more than a couple feet beyond her nose, and the lovely ache that coursed through her body made the world buzz. She was shocked that she had somehow managed to make it through the entire ordeal of the Sunburns’ first set with the whiskey bottle in her hand, still intact. At the time she had picked it up, she didn’t completely understand why she was doing so. Looking down at the thing now, she couldn’t help but smile at the honed precision of her own instincts, fine tuned by centuries of experience.

Crouching in the woods, far from the concert, amongst years’ worth of dead leaves, Aria looked into the eyes of the young woman who sat before her, back bracing up against an old oak. She mused on the fact that the girl’s eyes were hazel like Cookie’s. Not caring what kind of look she was giving her, she watched as the woman bit her lip bashfully, and glanced away.

“Well, you dragged me all the way out here, gave me free whiskey. You gonna say something or are you just gonna stare?” the hazel-eyed whoever asked, laughing nervously. Aria blinked when a small haze of green began to surround the woman. She inhaled.

“You’re an anxious person,” the former siren murmured in a rather eerie monotone. The woman didn't reply.

Aria crawled close through the leaves, until she peered right into her face. Then, something happened in those eyes, a twinge of fear, perhaps? Aria looked up, and saw the green escaping in plumes now. The scent changed, but still remained familiar. She sighed, feeling a bit disappointed. This mortal, the fifth one she had lured out here into the woods, was not the one she had been looking for. Her gaze returned to those hazel eyes, and remained steady, unsmiling.

“Do I scare you?” she asked plainly. The woman gulped.

“I… I don’t know yet.”

There was a long silence. Then the golden-eyed whoever shook her head, and moved to stand. Acting instinctively, Aria hooked her fingers onto her shoulder, and shoved her back down to the ground. Even she didn't understand why at first until she got another whiff of her negative energy. Bringing her head in close, she then rested her cheek in the crook of the woman’s neck, breathing in deep. The scent of her energy was alright. There was nothing particularly special about it, and yet, her own weariness, coupled with her inability to ever utilize any of the coveted stuff again, still frustrated her. She opened her mouth slightly, and took in another breath, wondering if she might be able to at least taste a little that way if she wished to the stars hard enough. After a time, she seemed to forget the woman was even there.

Ironically, all of this only made the warm body relax against her. The negative energy began to dissipate as the woman sighed with delight at Aria’s touch. Feeling rather irritated, the siren's head bolted upward, and she shook her by the collar.

“Aw, quit with that crap, will you?”

“W-with what?” the other woman gasped, utterly confused. The plumes returned. Aria bit her lip as she watched the haze floating upward.

“You stay nervous,” she blurted, suddenly reaching up in her inebriated daze to wave her hands through the fog. Her voice held a twinge of desperation as her fingers began to dig flesh. “Just stay… this way.”

The mortal with those eyes, now confused and frightened, pushed Aria off when she tried to move in close.

“What the hell? Get the hell off of me, you freak!”

In one swift movement, she brought her knee in, and kicked her leg out right into the center of Aria’s chest. The former siren fell backward onto the ground, clutching herself in pain. When her clenched eyes opened again, and the tears of pain that blurred her vision had finally dried up, the hazel-eyed whoever was gone.

She didn’t move for a long time. Instead, she opted to just lie there in the leaves, surrounded by that strange, delectable scent that now seemed to set her mind ablaze, until she heard the sound of crunching footsteps approaching. Even when the steps stopped somewhere beyond the top of her head, she still didn’t move to take a look at who it was. To some extent, she didn’t have to.

“Night not going so well, sweetheart?” a male voice chuckled in a tone so raspy that it could hardly constitute as a voice. It held an accent so strange, that it immediately made Aria’s eyes pop open with interest.

Some random someone, a grey skinned man in black, head completely shaved save for a low cut, sky blue strip of a mohawk, popped his face into her line of sight. Aria blinked, her vision went sharp for just a split second. The hairs on her arms were doing that thing again.

“Not until now,” she replied.

RECALL

Obviously, this guy wouldn't be as easy for her to unnerve unless she just outright threatened him with physical violence. Considering everything horrid and ancient within her was currently packed into this scrawny, little, rose-ish package, she decided against this. There were still other means. After all, negativity could be drawn out in a myriad of ways.

They walked in silence, deeper into the woods, all by his request. He didn’t seem to find it strange when Aria had obliged him willingly. The gears in her mind were grinding as she stared at him out of the corner of her eyes. The bottle of whiskey sloshed about in her hand as she shuffled one boot in front of the other.

This mortal’s eyes and skin—There was something striking about them, and yet she couldn't place what it was. She took a deep breath, and looked down at her boots. They fumbled over each other, and she fell. Flailing out to grab onto him, she cursed as she missed, and tumbled with her hands grabbing into the tops of his boots. Acting quickly, she snatched at him to pull herself back up, gripping frantically at his pockets.

Allowing her to brace upon his arms, the mohawked mortal helped her up. When their eyes met again, her gaze had sharpened. She noted that he didn’t seem to find any of her clumsiness unbecoming or strange despite the fact that she had not tripped or stumbled all night. A small smile escaped her as she gripped her fingers tightly onto the cuffs of her jacket. She then shoved her hands into her pockets.

“Let’s stop. Now,” she panted. “I don’t wanna wait anymore.”

Straddling his lap, leaning against his chest, she listened to his calm heartbeat, and considered what an amazing mood lifter it would have been to be able to shapeshift into her true form right at that very moment. One second, your night is going perfectly, and a girl was practically face planted into your rib cage. The next, your entire head is being chewed off by an enormous, floating, sea demon from another dimension. Aria chuckled to herself at the thought. Her arms wrapped around him, holding him close as they groped around beneath his jacket.

“What’s so funny?” came the raspy voice.

She rolled her eyes, perturbed at having to remember what it was she was doing, and why. Sitting up, she pulled her arms from around him, cuffs clenched tightly. Again, she shoved her hands back into her jacket pockets. Pulling out her pack of cigarettes, she then popped one between her lips, and lit it. Offering the pack to the mohawked mortal, her eyes trained upon him with intent when, at first, he glanced at the box with a look of confusion, and then swiftly refused.

“No, thanks. I don’t… uh… do that.”

Her eyes narrowed at this reply.

“Do what?” she asked out of the free corner of her mouth.

“You know... That.”

A haze of green began to envelope him.

“You mean smoke?” she scoffed. The man blinked at her.

“Of course. What else would I be talking about?” he laughed. She peered at the haze surrounding him. It was clear to her that he was trying to put on a pretense of calmness. Still, she shrugged, put the pack away, and took a long drag on her smoke.

“Do I scare you?” she said upon exhaling. The bald whoever simply laughed. He laughed so hard that he began to cough, making Aria jostle about upon his lap. There was a metallic clinking that came from the shaking of their jackets; she couldn’t tell if from her own or his. Her brow furrowed as this notion made her nervous.

“Are you kidding me? You couldn’t scare a kitten, gorgeous,” the man replied nudging her playfully under her chin.

The oddness of his accent, the way the words sounded when he put them together made her ears twitch. During the course of her lifetime, Aria had heard many languages spoken in many accents, and yet, this one seemed something more than annoying to her. It was irksome. It prodded her into paying it just a bit too much attention. She again inhaled upon the cigarette.

“Do I make you angry?” she asked next, completely unmoved by the man’s prior reply. His smile seemed to falter.

“Why do you ask that? Do you want me to be? Are you into that type of thing?” he scoffed.

“You could say that,” she murmured.

Inhale.

“So, what’s your deal, huh? Mommy issues? Daddy issues? Got your ass beat in middle school issues?” Aria asked as if having caught her second wind. “Or maybe you just have good, old fashioned, nemesis issues, perhaps, hm? Somebody in particular stuck in your craw? Come here to shake ‘em off in the pit?”

The man scowled, and just like that, a solid fizzle of green began to escape from the top of that bald head of his. Aria’s focus went sharp once again. She tried to conceal her smile with her palm.

“Maybe they’re ‘None of that is any of your fucking business’ issues,” he muttered. “You’ve got some gall to ask about other people’s issues after the way you carried on out there in the pit. Are you gonna just talk my fucking head off all night or is something gonna happen here?”

Aria’s smile disappeared. There was a brief pause.

"Now, how'd you manage to single me out in the pit, hm?" she asked, noting a wary flicker in the man's golden eyes.

It was at that particular moment that, out of all the mortal and immortal beings in the world, the thought of Adagio Dazzle decided to pop into Aria’s mind.

The cheesepuff wouldn’t have done it this way, she thought.

Adagio was a piece of work, a real piece of work, and yet, Aria had to cede that over the centuries, the “queen” of the sirens had taught her a useful trick or two about the arts of distraction and persuasion. She had taught her that not only could their own voices be used to manipulate mortals, but also the mortal’s very own senses and surroundings.

“Sight matters, scent matters, touch matters, and sound matters most of all,” the curly-haired woman had told her all those centuries ago, and she would go on to prove this to Aria in a myriad of different ways—some of them highly questionable—that would keep the sullen girl resentful toward her for centuries to come.

Nevertheless, as she slowly forced a sweet and disarming smile upon her face, Aria couldn’t help but recall every last one of those lessons. Her voice was no more; thus, what she had learned would now have to do. She would have to be perfect for him.

The tension was palpable. She licked her fingers, crushed the end of her cigarette, and threw it off into the woods. Leaning in close to the mohawked one’s face, she then curled her fingers onto the neckline of his shirt.

“I’m sorry. I'm being rude. Here, let me answer your question for you.”

She shoved him flat onto his back upon the ground, and loomed over him, her long strands of hair curtaining both their faces. Reaching out with a hand, she plucked up the whiskey bottle which had been sitting nearby in a patch of dead leaves. Unscrewing its top, she presented it to the mortal beneath her, and gave him a wink.

“Have some,” she said, bidding him to drink. She noted a twinge of doubt flit across his face.

“I’m alright,” he muttered. “L-let me get on top...”

Aria grimaced, and shoved him back down when he attempted to push her over.

"No."

"Why not?" he asked, sounding slightly more than perturbed.

"I've had bad experiences, if you catch my drift," she stated outright. The man under her still seemed hesitant.

“You know you’re being real fuckin’ picky for some sober dude hitting on a willing, drunk chick in the middle of the woods at night,” she said, then bringing her face in very close to his. “I swear, if you don’t drink this damn whiskey, or if you try to get on top of me, I’ll scream bloody murder. You don’t want that do you? I thought we were having fun.”

The man seemed to study her.

“No one can hear you over that noise out there,” he scoffed.

This statement made her smile, almost too brightly.

“Why do I get the feeling that you don’t wanna take that chance with me?” she inquired.

She was reveling in the unsure expression he was now wearing. His lips tightened as he reached out for the whiskey bottle, put it to his mouth, and threw a huge gobful of its contents back. Smiling victoriously, she watched him cough out the fire in his chest. Taking the bottle from him, and placing it off to the side, she then pushed him back down flat.

“Raise your arms,” she bid him. This time he broke out in ridiculing laughter.

“What are you, insane? So you can sock me in the gut, steal my wallet, and run off? Give me a b—...a fucking break!”

“If I wanted your wallet, what makes you think that I’d wait this long to take it? Think I’m stupid or something?” she asked, her temper momentarily peeking through her seductive facade.

She watched as the mohawked mortal’s face went quite grim.

“No,” he murmured. "In fact, I do not."

She stared daggers into him. A slight tinge of green escaped again as she watched his fingers discreetly edging toward the sleeves of his jacket. Her muscles tensed. She inhaled. The smell was slightly sharper than before.

She was being careless again, as usual, and the last thing she wanted to do was to raise suspicions. There was always another way.

Remember your lessons.

“You know, I've been having a real shitty night,” she began, twirling her finger lazily around the neckline of his shirt. “I mean, I know you don’t care about that, but I came here to have some fun, to forget about everything. You probably do think I’m stupid coming all the way out here with you. Maybe I am. Lately, I’m not so good with predicting how others feel about me.”

Glancing at his face, she hoped that he would catch the deeper meaning in her last sentence. He did. Still, even after willingly offering him this information, there was hesitation and doubt leaking from him in a green haze. He seemed to be thinking to himself.

That stronger underlying scent still lingered, so pungent and full of indecipherable messages. It made her want to scream. Huffing loudly with resolve, she leaned forward, and gently kissed his lips.

“You’re acting like I’m some kind of big, scary monster or something,” she whispered, pouting. “What happened to “I couldn’t scare a kitten”?”

There was a twinge of something in his gaze that nearly made her laugh when she understood what it was. The whiskey had finally taken hold of him. Her inward glee was quickly stifled when she saw his fingers, again, prodding at his sleeves—those damned sleeves. They were sure to prove bothersome for her. She eyed them intently as she began to trace her fingers along his arms. Feigning a sudden interest in his hands, she moved to push them over his head. The glare he gave her was full of spite; there was no hiding it any longer. She supposed if she had not had so many lifetimes' worth of practice faking her own emotions that her face might have looked exactly the same way. Kissing his neck, she then looked into his eyes.

“Don’t you like me?” she asked, her tone seeping with longing. The mortal scowled from where he lay beneath her.

“I’m planning on making this quick,” he spat, reaching up toward her jacket. “Take this off. I want to see you.”

She pulled away from his grasp, breathing a sigh of relief when her jacket hadn't made any noises.

“You really know how to charm the ladies, huh?” she asked him. Seeing that his expression remained unmoved, she shrugged, and sighed with finality.

“Fine.”

Reaching toward her left jacket pocket, she then zipped it closed.

“You know, I’ve had this weird feeling following me all evening,” she said matter-of-factly as she carefully slipped her left jacket sleeve off. He seemed to only partially be paying attention to her words as one of his hands moved upward to entwine itself into the long, purple locks that flowed over her shoulder. He gripped them tightly.

“Yea?”

“Mhm,” she replied, now zipping up her right pocket, and slipping that sleeve off as well. “It was the strangest thing. It felt like somebody was watching me the whole time. You ever feel like that? Like if someone was onto you?”

There was a pause as she smiled at him, reaching up to caress and kiss the hand, and the sleeve, that was now tangled in her tresses.

“No, I've never feel that way,” the man muttered. His free hand began to move upward to curve around her other shoulder. Everything in her began to buzz. The air seemed to become electric as she watched him.

“There was this weird smell around me, too,” she continued on as she carefully began to ball up her jacket, still making absolutely sure that it didn’t make any noise. “Like really sharp musk or something… or sweat. I thought I was going crazy. Was trying to figure it out all night. Then you know what happened?”

She smiled when she saw his eyelids droop ever so slightly under the spell of far too much drink.

“I-is this how you warm yourself up? Giving speeches?” the foolish mortal beneath her stammered, chuckling to himself.

Aria’s eyes narrowed.

“I finally figured it out, is what happened,” she whispered ominously, ignoring his spiteful words. She felt his other hand now cautiously wrapping itself around the back of her neck. “Turns out it wasn’t musk I was smelling. It was… Well, this might sound crazy to you, but it was a grudge. Bitterness. A powerful one. An old one… ancient even.”

She laughed as she reached out with an arm, her balled up jacket gripped tightly between her fingers.

“You’d think that someone who’d held these feelings for me for so long would know by now that I could smell that sort of thing; that I could smell bad intentions, and that I know when they're following me.”

The look on the gray man’s face was absolutely incredulous. It seemed that, finally, he had realized his error in having taken in so much alcohol. Even from the start, it was clear to Aria that he had never drank the stuff before.

Idiot.

“So, I told myself: 'Those feelings couldn’t possibly be for me. Someone who really knew me would have definitely known that I could do that.' But then something happened that made me change my mind; made me ask myself one very important question, a question that I've been asking myself since I tripped back there, all over your boots... and your pockets... and your jacket. Wanna know what it was?” she murmured, leaning over to peer into his eyes. By this point, the man was no longer smiling or talking. The veil had lifted from around them, and his breath now came intensely.

She shook the jacket balled up in her hand. A strange sound came from its pockets. The gray man's eyes went wide when he realized just what that sound was—the clanking of metal.

“I asked myself: 'What in Chaos’ name could someone possibly need with that many Equestrian daggers, and a pair of earplugs?'”

She then threw the jacket a good distance away where it landed into a pile of leaves with a heavy ‘CLUNK’.

"No matter, you monster," he hissed as he made a quick reach into his sleeves, looking for what was no longer there. He glared back up in terror toward Aria's wildly grinning maw. She held out her fingers. In between them, she gripped a small pair of earplugs, and the last dagger she had pulled from his sleeve when she had caressed his arm. There was a brief beat between them before he gripped her by the hair, trying to wrench her neck; however, before he could do this, she had reached upward, curled her index knuckles inward, and swung down with all her might. The bones jammed into both of his eyes. He managed to throw her off of him whilst screaming in agony.

“You filthy witch!” he wailed.

The plume of green that exploded from him was magnificent, so fantastic that she laughed with glee, even as she scrambled back over toward him to dig her nails into the flesh of his face. Backing off a fair distance, she tossed the ear plugs far into the night, and gripped the handle of the stolen dagger.

“Looks like somepony didn’t do his research before deciding to pay a visit,” she laughed as she approached his blindly stumbling form, blade raised. “And could you have tried a little bit harder to get rid of that Canterlotian accent? Geez.”

The gray man suddenly became quite still where he stood, and to Aria’s confusion, then reached into his sleeve.

“There’s nothing there, you idiot,” she snickered, moving toward his front, and quickly grabbing hold of his collar. Just as she was about to strike, a sandy-hued glow escaped from the inside of his sleeve, and began to grow.

“What the—” she gasped just as his hand swung out from where it had previously been hidden, wielding a fresh dagger. Instinctively moving to raise her own weapon in defense, Aria’s heart leapt into her throat when she glanced at her blocking hand only to find that there was no longer any dagger there. Having no choice but to arch her body out of the way of his blade, she fell to the ground, and began to scramble away from him.

“Magic! You can use magic here? H-how…” she stammered.

As the mohawked man’s vision finally cleared up, and he caught sight of the siren crawling amongst the forest leaves, Aria attempted to bolt upward, and make a quick escape. Her feet had only taken three steps before something seemed to seize hold of her entire body, freezing it in place. She watched in horror as her arms and legs began to glow in that same tannish halo, and started taking her exact running steps—backwards. Forcing her head around to stare at the gray, mohawked man, she saw him grinning maliciously as she reversed toward him. His hand, still glowing, reached out for her. She screamed as he finally snatched her by the strap of her top, and the glowing ceased. Spinning her about, he raised the dagger, and prepared to strike. Instinctively, she opened her mouth, attempting to sing. A strange waver escaped in place of her usually raspy voice.

“Stop struggling, you creature," he hissed, trying to get a good aim. "It’s of no use.”

“Wait!” Aria protested barely managing to wrench her neck out of the way. She pulled herself from his grip as the dagger came down in the space between her collarbone and shoulder, slicing the strap of her shirt. For a second, she was too stunned to feel the sting of the gash, but as the shock of the moment began to fade away, the familiarity in its placement began to dawn on her. Looking away from the approaching stranger, she caught a glimpse of crimson dripping from a wound that was almost exactly in the space where Swift’s dagger had cut her those many lifetimes ago. She whimpered, suddenly overcome by raw emotion. Tears welled up in her eyes as she was whisked back to that horrible night before… before…

Glancing back up toward the mohawked man’s face, she suddenly couldn’t tell the difference between his features and that of Midnight Swift’s. Her mouth gawked open and then closed, but words were no longer there. A strange stammer escaped as if her throat were trying to remember what its purpose was. The vision of Swift stoked a flame in her that quickly exploded into a raging inferno. She felt a familiar tingling in that searing spot between her chest and neck. A warmness extended out toward her fingertips. There was a rush of something inside of her, like a shot of electricity. She screamed. This time, there was sound. Piercing the night air like a shrill whistle, it forced her attacker to keel over, dropping his blade, and covering his ears. She felt her energy suddenly dip, and gasped for air. Getting to her feet, lost in her furious daze, she breathed deeply, and felt the wave of warmness hit her once again. The air around her hummed as the spark of a dark melody began to echo through it. Knowing now what it was she had felt, she faced her assailant, and with confidence, opened her mouth.

You of frail and finite mind,
See yourself bigger than you should.
You dare to challenge siren kind,
In only the way cowards would.

In an instant, before he could reach again into his jacket full of tricks, Aria watched as her mysterious assailant’s face fell vacant, his mind a blank slate for the siren to write upon. That delicious haze of green began to pour out of him in mounds, and to the siren's utter joy, floated in her direction. Stuck in a space between disbelief and exhilaration, for a moment she couldn’t figure what to do until she saw her jacket still lying a ways behind her. Fighting off the bouts of exhaustion that wracked her in lieu of willing that wave of warmth through her veins again and again, she powered on, and traversed the distance to fetch the thing.

She was wandering far from him, now. Curiously, the further she seemed to move, the more difficult it became to hold onto her spell. Thinking little of this, she continued on, keeping a wary eye upon her attacker as she did so.

By the time she had reached the jacket, her body quaked, and her own heartbeat began to resound in her ears. Looking once more upon her assailant, she was terrified to find that somehow he had managed to regain enough of his will to take a few steps in her direction. She watched as he reached into his own jacket. Fear aggravated her senses. Sheer pain made her weak. Holding the incantation in the air now felt like an impossible task, and as she zipped open her jacket pocket while heaving for air, to her own horror, she felt herself let the melody die.

She gasped as he ran full on at her, the effects of the spell faded from his eyes. Confused as to what was happening, she dug into the pockets, trying to retrieve the dagger. Coughing out rasps, she found that her attempts to sing suddenly proved futile.

"No, no," she stammered to herself as she frantically drew a blade, and spun around to face him. "It was just working! Why isn't it working anymore?"

More rasps.

"What will..." she choked, as she backed away from the approaching figure. Too weak to evade him, she felt panic beginning to take over once more. "What will..."

Her voice wavered in that strange tone as she desperately searched within herself for the wellspring that had, in an instant, run dry. The mohawked man was a few steps away now.

Anger and frustration grabbed her again.

Ten steps.

The warm sensation gathered her up into its clutches. A wave of energy hit her as she inhaled.

"What will you do..."

Five steps.

The inside of his jacket glowed. She raised her dagger in defense. Again, there was no blade in her hand.

Two steps.

She felt the wellspring open up around her as he grabbed her collar. The incantation flooded her brain.

What will you do my foolish friend,
Now that things haven’t gone as planned?
I’ll tell you what you’re gonna do.
Take up the dagger in your hand.

Oh, this life’s just full of trouble.
So, why trouble with it?
Life’s just full of trouble.
So, why trouble with it?
Life’s just trouble.
Be done with it.

Trapped again, his blade mere inches away from her head, Aria watched as the man now took his unwilling steps away from her. He slowly withdrew his dagger from her face, and turned the blade toward his own neck. The siren laughed in stunned relief as the ghastly refrain powered on.

The green smog that surrounded them both brought tears to her eyes as she inhaled the scent of it. As she sang, heedless to the distress of the enchanted mortal before her, she watched as the energy was drawn toward her, and gasped in delight as it spun itself into small rivulets, aiming themselves for that burned and scarred flesh upon her chest.

Her happiness immediately fell away when the green dashed itself against flesh, and instead of satiated relief, fiery pain exploded within her. She choked, and keeled over, nearly losing her song in the midsts of her agony. Blocking off the patch on her skin with her hand, she gasped for air. A myriad of questions flooded into her mind, threatening to overpower the open wellspring of her abilities.

What in darkness' name was happening to her? Why had her singing powers returned all of a sudden, and in such a tenuous fashion that it now felt like she might die of exhaustion to try to use them? Why had they disappeared when she had made a run for the daggers in her jacket? And if she still was not able to devour energy, then from where was she drawing the power to wield her magic?

Backing away from her assailant, she felt her energy dip, once again, and the wellspring in her mind began to recede. Suddenly, it dawned upon her. Aria's eyes fell upon the gray mortal in shock. Taking one large step toward him, she felt the wellspring open up again ever so slightly. Another step, and her energy rebounded.

"You. It's you," she whispered to the mindless man, wide eyed.

Knowing now what she had to do, she again filled herself with the flow of energy, and approached the mysterious man, reaching out to grab his face.

Feel my verse, just like a vice.
Feel my rhythm hold you tight.
Wrap you in loving embrace,
And whisk you to a sweeter place.

Bidding him to kneel down before her, she gave him a wicked smile as he obediently raised the dagger, and aimed the blade toward his own throat. A part of her felt anguish at the notion that her long lost song would soon have to come to an end, but she knew that her survival was obviously more important.

Suddenly, remembering her interest in the man’s oddly captivating appearance, she reached out with a palm at the very last moment before he plunged the blade deep into his own flesh. She held the thing just a few inches away from his neck with her own, firm grip. The wellspring swelled along with her sudden thirst for information.

Not just yet! Hold on, go-getter.
Anticipation just makes this better.
Before you take your final bow,
State your intent, measure for measure.

As the refrains of her malicious chorus echoed throughout the air, she turned the man's face toward her. Her eyes bore holes into his as she spoke over the melody.

"Who are you?" she asked. The man's gaping mouth fumbled about for a moment before words escaped from between his lips.

"Starshot," he croaked. Obviously, Aria didn't recognize the name.

"Where did you come from?"

"E... Eques... Equestr—"

"Equestria. Right. Got it," she finished for him. "Now, tell me, Starshot. Why are you here, and why are you after sirens?"

"Time magic has brought me here," he croaked. "A dimensional... sh... shift. He was foolish and weak..."

"Wait a minute," Aria muttered to herself, trying to think through the strenuous task of maintaining her ever fading energy whilst holding the chorus of her melody afloat at the same time.

“Time magic? Dimensions?”

There was only one pony she had ever known to possess the ability to successfully wield those types of spells.

"Wait... a... minute," she gasped, her eyes going wide as she realized why the gray skinned, golden-eyed, magic wielding man looked so familiar. "It couldn't be."

She never even heard the sound of footsteps racing up behind her through the leaves. Peering down into her prey’s face, she shook her head in disbelief as the notes of her melody carried to a crescendo, and her fingers loosened from around the man’s clenched hand.

“... Star Swirl?”

A red fist came across the stranger’s face before he could slash himself with his own blade. In an instant, he was knocked out cold. Startled, Aria let loose of her refrain, and the air became void of everything save for the evening sounds of the forest. Spinning about, she glared at the panting, startled mess that was Muddy Wheeler as he stared down at the unconscious figure in shock. He looked up at her.

“The hell, Aria! You okay, girl? That sumbitch coulda turned a brontosaurus into church boots with that thing!”

The dour siren said nothing. Her eyes seemed to gaze right through the frantic man before her. The world around her went silent, only to be replaced with a ceaseless ringing, and the unbearable fire that sat in the spot between her chest and neck. The bursts of power she had just been feeling a few moments prior shattered into nothingness. Her entire body went weak and numb.

"Yea, I'm fine. I—” she began, reaching over to snatch up her jacket. Her voice was now nothing but painful croaks. Thinking little of this, she let off a cough, and was startled when blood spurt from her mouth, splattering onto the front of her shirt. Looking up at Wheeler in shock, she felt her knees beginning to give way.

"Mud? I don't feel so good," she grunted as she began to fall. Wheeler stepped forward to scoop her up into his arms.

"Shit... Okay. You're okay, Darlin'. I gotcha," he said trying to feign calmness. Turning about, he quickly rushed off in the direction of his car.

"Fuck. I am definitely too drunk for this."

RUN

Time seemed to slow down momentarily. Her vision dipped in and out a few times before she finally awoke to find herself laying back in the passenger seat of Wheeler’s car. Looking off to her side, she saw him sitting in the driver’s seat, frantically zipping through his phone whilst simultaneously attempting to pour water from a bottle onto a piece of paper towel.

“What are you doing?” she rasped, startling him. Taking a moment to catch his breath, and steady the water bottle in his hand, he turned to face her, wide eyed.

“Oh, shit. You’re awake! Good, I’m callin’ somebody to get you outta here.”

She looked confused for a moment.

“W-what do you mean? Just take me home.”

Wheeler gave her an exasperated look.

“Do I look like I’m fit to drive down a mountain to you?” he yelled, accidentally spraying water from the bottle all over her face. She sputtered, and sighed, too exhausted to be irritated. Her eyes then went wide as she realized something.

“Wait a minute. We’re still up here? No! No, we have to get outta here, now!” she croaked, remembering that when they had left the stranger lying in the woods, they had left him alive. “C’mon, Wheeler. If you don’t wanna drive, I’ll do it.”

Wheeler’s jaw dropped in complete confusion as he stared at the drunk and disheveled girl before him, spattered in blood.

“You… are out to lunch, Aria Blaze. Hold on a bit. I’m callin’ Cookie to come getcha," he said, trying to finish up on his phone.

Aria’s stomach sank. It seemed ludicrous at this point to still be taking what happened earlier at Cookie’s house so personally in light of the night's most recent events. However, something in her knew that she absolutely could not let the other woman see her in such a state.

“No, no. Call my house. My sisters will come, and get me,” she said, nearly begging.

“Y’all don’t have no damn car, Blaze. It’ll take forever for them to get up here. What’re they gonna do, fly?” Wheeler asked, now putting his ear to the phone receiver.

Taking a moment to note the irony of the man’s words, Aria then looked straight ahead, past the dark woods cascading down the side of the giant hill before her. The lights of the town could be seen shining in the distance. Taking a deep breath, she seemed to settle upon something in her mind. Quickly grabbing her jacket from the back seat, she opened the car door, and bolted off into the forests.

“Blaze? Blaze!” Wheeler yelled after her. He jumped out of the car just as soon as he heard someone pick up on the other line of his call.

“Cookie! Listen, I need you to get yer ass in gear, and head toward The Hole. Shit is crazier than a shithouse rat out here! Some jackass tore Aria up in the woods or somethin’. She’s lost it. Out here runnin’ around the trees like a fuckin’ coked up raccoon. You gotta come get 'er.”

Running to the edge of the clearing, he called for the siren one last time, finally acknowledging to himself that she was gone. Putting his ear back onto the receiver, he finished up with his call.

“She’s headed down toward that park to the east of the mountain, I think. You should head there, but listen, bring her sisters or whatever. She was freakin’ out about wanting them to be here a second ago. Do it fast.”

With that, Wheeler hung up on the call. Getting back into his car, he resolved himself to do what he knew he shouldn’t. Turning the car on, he placed his hand upon the wheel, and then closed his eyes. With much conviction, he began to mutter to himself under his breath.

“Listen, just in case I die, just know that I did not squeeze that chick’s t—... accoutrements on purpose. I swear, she got in the way of the peanuts, and I wasn’t payin’ attention… Amen.”

Backing out of the lot, Wheeler spun the car around to face the downhill road, and drove off into the night.

___

Aria knew she could make it if only she could hold on for just a few more minutes. The edge of the forests were in sight, and she could see a large, open park sitting just below, awash in lamplight. She hadn’t the slightest idea of how long she had been running. It was only by sheer will that her legs continued to keep moving, even though it seemed as if every body part above them had almost completely shut down.

Taking a moment to catch her breath whilst coughing up more crud that tasted of blood, she then continued on her way. Stumbling about in the near dark, Aria bided her time by thinking about all that had transpired that evening.

That scent of maliciousness had been following her the entire night. Did that mean that her attacker, this Starshot guy, had been doing the same? Spirits forbid that he had figured out where she lived. Her heart sank when she remembered that the smell had also followed her to Cookie’s house. Rage took hold as she began to imagine all of the horrible things she might do to him if he ever even thought about… She didn’t even want to consider it.

Shaking her head free of those thoughts, she figured it might be more productive to just consider the stranger, himself. He had come from Equestria, and had a Canterlotian accent, alright, but the strange thing about it was the sound of the accent. Aria recalled that it sounded odd, and it didn’t occur to her until much later that it was because his accent sounded old. I wasn't like the kind that Sunset Baconator or Twilight NARCle had which seemed to blend so seamlessly into modern human society. It was of a style that she could only assume no one in Canterlot would be speaking anymore. This, of course, would make sense if the bastard could use time magic. Regardless, it was clear that this was not the first time that the stranger had traversed into modernity, considering how much of the current style of language he actually did know. Aria found herself wondering how long he had been making these types of trips.

He had mentioned something about someone or somepony being weak before he tried to kill her. Aria couldn’t help but grimace and shake her head when she realized that there were a thousand years’ worth of Canterlotian bad blood to sift through, at least if she desired to figure out exactly which one of the sirens’ actions had caused him so much distress as to force him to traverse space and time to come to destroy them—if that was what he was trying to do. Still, if she had to guess, she knew exactly which historical event she would bet her chips on.

Trying her best not to, yet again, allow her anger at Adagio and all of her ill-fated schemes bubble up within her, Aria finally stepped off of the mountain side, and into the edge of the park clearing. Seeing pavement and benches in the distance, she quickly stumbled off in their direction.

REGRET

Aria had barely even touched the bench before she collapsed down upon it, completely prostrate. Her eyelids felt as heavy as lead, and slammed shut as her head hit the cold, wooden surface. She had only been meaning to take a breather for a moment before heading in the direction of a bus stop, but her body just could not withstand anymore strain after all of the evening’s heart-rending events.

It seemed as if she had laid there for just a moment before the sound of car wheels screeching to a halt could be heard in the back of her mind. Then came the sound of clattering footsteps. Before she knew it, she was being snatched up by the shoulders. In her daze, Aria assumed she was being attacked again, and lashed out, trying to sing. She only succeeded in sputtering up more blood before she finally heard her name being called, and a giant poof of orange waving to and fro before her eyes.

“Aria! Aria, snap out of it! Gimme that water!” she heard Adagio's voice yell off to her side.

There was a splash of coldness upon her face, and slowly, everything became clear once more. Looking up, she spied Sonata and Adagio standing before her, sweeping her hair down, swiping at the blood on her mouth with wet paper, and trying to shove water down her throat. All of a sudden, the implications of all the emotions she had been feeling seemed to gel within her head. Her exhaustion and heartbreak took over completely, and her eyes trained upon Adagio in anger. She stood up, advancing upon the wary woman.

“You…” she breathed.

“What the hell is going on, Aria? What are you doing out here?” Adagio asked frantically, looking equally frustrated.

“You! This is all your fault!” the bruised siren exclaimed. “We’re gonna die because of you! Are you happy now?”

She trailed off, noting the terrified look on Sonata’s face, and the confused look on Adagio’s.

“Aria, what in the seas are you—” the elder girl began.

Adagio halted her words when the enraged siren raised a fist against her. The fist froze in midair when she spotted, somewhere deep in Adagio’s magenta eyes, a frightened look, a look of concern, an expression of care. Was it for her?

Aria’s eyes welled up with tears, and her heart burst forth with yet more countless, nameless emotions. She suddenly realized she was afraid, afraid for herself, afraid for Cookie, and afraid for her sisters, even Adagio. In that moment, despite all that she might have blamed the elder siren for concerning their current fate, she could not deny that she also loved her fiercely. She loved them both, and the thought of an aggressive death now bearing down upon them all was nothing less than horrifying.

Falling against the curly-haired siren, she wrapped her arms around her neck, and sobbed loudly.

“Why, Adagio? Why did we go to that damn castle? Why did we have to interfere with the sisters? I hate this place so much!”

She fell to her knees, dragging her older sister down with her. Wide-eyed, the elder could do nothing but hold onto the weeping girl, her words burning into her skull. Adagio didn’t know why Aria was bringing all this up in this way, but something seemed to fracture within her as she heard it whilst taking in the horrifying visage of her sister, now helpless and drenched in her own blood. Perhaps it was something that had been waiting to break free for over a thousand years. She gathered the girl up tighter in her arms as tears began to flow from her stunned eyes. Suddenly, she could see their entire histories laid out before them in one line of crescendoing and plummeting happiness. Every crash, every defeat, every disappointment would bring them lower and lower toward this wretched state they now found themselves in, and as Adagio gazed out upon it all, she was obliged to acknowledge to herself that it had, indeed, been her fault. She had taken up the reins of responsibility all those lifetimes ago. She was the one who had used her superior powers of persuasion to manipulate her sisters into following along obediently. All this was something she had created for them all.

The elder girl's lips parted, bumbling for words that she knew wouldn't be sufficient.

“I’m sorry, Aria. I'm so, so sorry. This is my fault,” was all she could muster at first, sniffing back her tears. Turning to gaze at Sonata, she saw the youngest girl clasping her hands together, nodding encouragingly. "But I swear to you, I'm going to try to make it right. Just try to breathe, and calm down. I won't let anything else happen to you.”

There was a bit of silence, save for Aria's gasping in between her tears as the three sisters sat on the park pavement. After a while, Adagio felt the girl in her arms give a great heave, and shift to look up into her eyes. Surprisingly, she was wearing the faintest of smiles.

"I sang... like before our pendants were shattered. I actually sang," she rasped, on the brink of another bout of coughing.

"Shh," Adagio hushed her, rubbing her back, and pulling her up to her feet. "I believe you. We'll talk about that soon enough. Now, let's go quick, and get to the bus stop before those two weirdos from your job find out we left. I figured you wouldn't want to ride with them; so, I said we'd be right back. I practically had to tie the ice cream cone down with her seatbelt to get her to stay in the car. "

Adagio paused for a moment as she took a step, realizing she had made a decision that should really be Aria's to make. Turning toward her, she tilted her head to look at the injured girl's face.

"Unless you do want to ride with her," Adagio posed gently, waiting for a reply.

Aria scoffed as she wrapped her arm around Sonata who had moved in close to give her sister something to brace upon.

"Fuck, no."

Author's Note

Hmmrwergad :raritydespair:

This is one of those chapters where I'm either going to sorely regret writing it, or it's really gonna turn things up a notch.

Regardless, at least this mountain of gloom, dirty jokes, Aria face, and shmexy stuff is outta the way... Well, maybe not the gloom... and the dirty jokes. But, things are bound to get a bit lighter. I'm sure you all can guess whose story is coming up.

(I can hear some of you saying your 'hallelujahs' in the ether)

By the way, about the song in this chapter... I know. Whatever you're thinking, I know. I had to fight myself in order to stop working on it, because it obviously needs more cowbell, and ended up taking entirely too long, and since I'm a musician too it really irks me to leave it so bare bones. D'ah well. :heart: :fluttershyouch:

An Inherited Burden

A beautiful, curling alto echoed against the walls of the enormous chamber of a room ornately decorated in rich mahogany fixtures, and gold gilding. The late morning sun shone in from the open window, and was joined by a delightful breeze. As the gust blew in, and ruffled a lovely blue mare’s fevered fur, she relaxed, and the nervous flush in her cheeks began to fade away.

As Sonata’s song ended, she and the two vigilant figures that made up her audience were left in a dreamy silence. After a moment, the observant ponies stood, and stomped their hooves in applause. One of them, an orange-bearded unicorn stallion, did so on shaky hoof. The aged, orange earth mare that stood by his side helped to support him.

“Delightful. Absolutely enrapturing as usual, my dear,” the elder Lord Goldenstalks exclaimed. “It seems your voice becomes more lovely with each visit.”

Sonata noted how today the former Earl’s voice was particularly more weak and raspy than usual. A slick glimmer shone in the stallion’s wide eyes, one that gave credence to his swiftly failing health. The blue mare felt her heart become heavy, and her smile faltered. Taking a low bow, she exhaled a long breath, glad for the performance to be over with.

“I-I thank you, My Lord. I am most fortunate that after all this time you have yet to tire of me, especially with as legendary a voice as the Countess’—”

“Oh, n-n-nonsense!” the former Countess, Ginger, interjected with a warm smile. “Both of your voices are beautiful in their own distinctive ways, and i-i-it is better that they are not compared. After all, how should one compare an elegant rose bush to a h-happy garden patch of pretty tulips?”

Ginger looked toward her husband, and he nodded in agreement. His weakened jaw fumbled for an off kilter smile. Sonata’s cheeks, again, went red.

“You do me too much honor, My Lady,” she said with another low bow. The former Countess smiled.

“Well, you will s-s-simply have to oblige us, then. Won’t you?” she stammered. She never noticed the small grimace growing upon her husband’s face.

Suddenly, the elder lord’s hind legs gave an odd tremor, and then failed him. He stumbled down ever so slightly before being caught by his wife who quickly bid Sonata to pull a chair over.

“M-my Lord!” Ginger exclaimed. “Are you not feeling well?”

She peered into his eyes. It seemed the elder Goldenstalks could not reply. Instead, he nodded his head, his expression twisted into one of confusion and embarrassment. Sonata, who had taken many paces away from the pair, now kept her eyes trained reverently upon the floor so as not to embarrass the old lord. She said nothing. Soon, the orange mare gazed up at her with a stern look.

“I th-think that is enough for today, my dear. I do thank you for c-coming. You know how very much My Lord enjoys your visits. G-g-go now to the Earl. I believe he is in his private study at this hour. He will see you off.”

Sonata tried to hide her clear discomfort with these words. The Earl's study? Why did it seem that she was constantly put at odds with the dictates of her status? They knew she was a commoner. They knew it was less than appropriate for her venture anywhere beyond the great hall of Goldenstalks manor.

“Yes, thank you, My Lord. Thank you, My Lady,” Sonata replied meekly, keeping her eyes trained upon the floor. Slowly, she backed out of the chamber, and out into the sprawling hallway. When the door was shut, she leaned against it, and slid down to the floor with a relieved sigh.

It wasn’t that she dreaded these visits to the Goldenstalks estate. By now she was quite used to them. After all, she had been making them ever since the first time her mother and father had arranged her performance for the Earl those many years ago. Yet, to this day, the idea of performing alone before nobles, the thought of being judged, and potentially being hated, still racked her with fear and anxiety. Everyday, she tried her best to do her best for everypony she might have called an acquaintance; thus, it set her mind to worrying when she found herself amongst those who were under no obligation to see her as anything besides a worthless peasant, regardless of what her talents or passions might have been.

Still, she could not deny that the trip she made to the estate today was absolutely necessary. Lately, things had been quite difficult for her. No matter how hard she worked, nowadays it seemed that she was always coming up short pertaining to funds for herself and the farm; thus, these trips to the Goldenstalks manor for short performances for the former Earl were quite useful with providing a quick income when there was nothing else to be had. It was a shame that the elder Lord's son—the current ruler of the realm—did not have such a heart for her melodies as his father did. Considering the aging master's current state, Sonata couldn't help but worry about what would befall her should anything happen to him.

She shook her head free of these thoughts. It was a disgrace that she might think such things pertaining to the former Earl whilst he was ailing. How selfish she was being.

Running a hoof across her elegantly braided mane, Sonata stood back up, straightened her dressy, white robes, and headed down the long corridor. Upon reaching its edge, she found a waifish servant standing there, waiting and sneering. Sonata, already knowing why, stared down at the floor, away from the brown earth stallion's eyes.

This particular corridor was forbidden to most servants of the house as it contained the private chambers of the Earl's family. Sonata, being a commoner, would also typically not be suited to traverse therein. As usual, due to the fondness the former Earl and his wife held for her, she was made the unwilling exception.

"I... I was instructed to be taken to the Lord Goldenstalks’ private study," the blue mare stammered, almost wincing at her own words.

Expectedly, she heard the stallion before her let out a scoff of disbelief that caused her as much distress as he probably hoped it would. Following a few paces behind him, she trotted along more winding hallways, and up a few flights of stairs before the stallion came to a rather large, and magnificently carved, wooden door. Ordering the blue mare to stop her walking, he knocked upon the door, and waited to be addressed. A call came from inside of the room, bidding him to enter.

“Miss Sonata Dusk, My Lord,” the stallion murmured, sounding as if he were unbearably burdened to announce her name in such a dignified manner. As she listened, Sonata busied herself with straightening her mane and robe, hoping that she was presentable enough for the Earl’s company.

“Ah, yes. The farmer’s daughter,” came a low, rather bored-sounding voice from within. “Send her in.”

The stallion stepped back out of the room, and stood to the side of the doorway. His hoof extended outward to usher the mare in. A vindictive smirk spread across his face as she passed.

Upon entering the private study of the current Earl, Upright Goldenstalks, Sonata couldn’t help but allow her gaze to wander about the lavish room. There were shelved walls filled with scrolls and books of all kinds, a comfortable sitting area against the opposite wall, and in front of a tall window, a vase full of beautiful, golden-hued flowers sat upon a pedestal. No doubt the lady of the house had chosen these to brighten the room. She had a notoriously keen eye for all that could be deemed elegant.

The servant stallion slammed the door behind her, making her jump, and reminding her of whose presence she was in. Allowing her eyes to dart toward the Earl, she found him sitting at his large desk which was covered in documents and scrolls of all sorts. He used his orange-hued magic to scrawl voraciously upon a fresh piece of parchment with a quill feather pen. It was as if he had already forgotten she was there. Immediately dropping her gaze toward the floor, the wary mare performed a low bow.

“My Lord,” she greeted him, then opting to wait in silence.

After tarrying there for a lengthy amount of time, Sonata was beginning to wonder if the Earl had not seen her at all. She slowly lifted one hoof toward her mouth, planning on forcing a cough, or clearing her throat in order to draw his attention. Thankfully, before she could do so, she heard the quill stop scratching, and the sound of it clacking loudly back into its inkwell. Her confusion was once again replaced with anxiety as she could almost feel those icy blue eyes beginning to bore into her lowered head.

“The Lord and Lady enjoyed your performance, I take it,” he said matter-of-factly. His voice was calm, collected, and altogether piercing. Indeed, everything about the Earl made it seem as if he was actually made entirely of stone or ice. Sonata let loose a small gasp as he addressed her. She stammered for words, her eyes still trained upon the floor.

“I… I’m sure I would not know, My Lord, b-but I do hope so.”

“Nonsense,” the goldenrod unicorn replied. “After all, you would not be standing here in my study if they had not.”

Sonata heard the quill rising out of the inkwell once again, followed by the sound of more ruffling parchments and pen scribbling. Assuming his attention had been drawn away, she took a moment to glance upward toward the Earl. Finishing with this document abruptly, he turned and caught her gaze, much to her surprise.

“How fortunate you are that the Goldenstalks household has developed such a fondness for your voice. Wouldn’t you agree, Miss Sonata?” Upright asked her. There was something hidden behind those icy eyes. Through her fitful gaze which darted sporadically between his face and the floor, she could only imagine that she had seen spite in him. It was no secret that the current Lord Goldenstalks did not hold the same fondness toward music as his father did. The nervous mare also knew that Upright was well aware of why she continued to make these trips to the manor in order to sing for his mother and father—money. They both knew she and the Fylleion farm were dealing with hard times. They both knew that he would inevitably be made to pay her for her “troubles” in order to satiate the demands of his ailing father. It was no secret to Sonata that the Earl hated this. She could only imagine how very much—to somepony as overly practical as he—the “squandering” of funds upon singers probably seemed an unnecessary waste.

“Yes, it would seem so, My Lord. I pray that you feel the same way.”

Upright did not reply. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Sonata glanced up toward his face only to find him peering at her, his mouth barely turned up in a poorly hidden smirk of disdain.

“Come,” he commanded her, then turning his head to look somewhere beneath his desk. His magic flared.

Sonata took a deep breath, and slowly stepped forward. The sound of her hooves on the pristine wood echoed across the otherwise silent room. When she stood directly before the stallion’s immense desk, he looked up at her, and with his magic, tossed a money pouch onto the bare surface before him.

“I believe that should be sufficient,” he replied. Sonata, not wanting to seem too eager, did not move to touch the pouch until the Earl himself huffed with irritation, and extended a hoof, motioning for her to take it. Snatching it up with her teeth, Sonata then performed a low bow.

“Thnkyw, Mm Lrrd,” she mumbled, accidentally dropping the pouch onto the floor. “T-thank you, My Lord.”

She picked up the item, then bowed again, beginning to back away towards the door. By this time, Upright had gone back to pouring over his documents, scribbling here and there. Still, just for good measure, she gave one more bow as her backside bumped into the door. She quickly opened it, and practically stumbled out into the corridor. Breathing another huge sigh of relief as she leaned against the wall, the blue mare didn’t notice that the servant stallion had been standing by the side of the entryway the entire time. When she spotted him, she jumped, nearly spilling the contents of her pouch all over the floor.

“Oh! Oh, fennel! You almost startled me to death, you did!” she exclaimed, straightening her robes, and fixing her mane. Her face flushed with embarrassment. The servant stallion eyed her, unamused.

“I dare not even think it,” he replied, sarcasm dripping from his tone. He then turned to direct her to follow him back down the hallway toward the servant’s exit. “This way, if you please.”

“Uhh, y-yes. Just hold on,” Sonata stammered as she tried to hitch open the small purse given her by the Earl just enough to be able to peer inside. Holding it by one of its drawstrings, she maneuvered its contents about so that she might be able to comfortably walk whilst counting the money. “J-just a moment!”

By the time she had successfully figured a way to carry the thing, the brown stallion had all but lost his patience. Clearing his throat, and stomping his hoof, he started on down the hall without her. She quickly trotted along to catch up, the pouch jingling as it hung from her teeth. Her brow furrowed as she peered down into the thing, counting the bits as precisely as she could manage, and then recounting them just to make sure.

“Thvn, eiff, nnn,” she murmured to herself under her breath. Perplexed she repeated the count. “Thvn, eiff, nnn… Wrrt a mrrmnt.”

She grimaced. Her lovely raspberry eyes glimmered with worry.

“This isn’t right,” she murmured, accidentally dropping the purse again. “Oop! Wait a moment! We must go back.”

The brown stallion did not slow down, nor did he turn to look her way.

“I’m afraid that would be impossible. The Earl is very busy, and should not be disturbed again.”

“B-but this isn’t right. There has been some sort of mistake!” she exclaimed, snatching up the pouch between her teeth. The servant before her remained unmoved.

“The Lord Goldenstalks does not make mistakes,” he scoffed.

Irked, she let out a low, frustrated growl before stomping her hoof with finality, and turning about to race back down the hallway. Hearing her run away, the brown stallion turned about with a gasp.

“Wait! What do you think you’re doing? Come back here!” he cried, setting off after her.

By the time she burst through the Earl’s study doors, startling him into spilling ink all over a document he had been writing, the brown stallion had already caught up to her. He latched hold of Sonata’s robe with his teeth, and had begun to drag her away.

“What is the meaning of this?” Upright roared, standing and slamming his front hooves upon his desk.

“Aplgies, My Lrd!” the servant stammered through his clenched teeth as he tried to pull Sonata away. “She’s gnn mad!”

“Apologies, My Lord!” Sonata exclaimed, dropping the purse from her teeth. “I had to speak with you again. Please, give me audience! It is a very important matter! You see, it seems that there’s been a miscount of the contents of this pouch.”

She attempted to hoof the servant off of her with her hind leg to no avail. The Earl looked from one to the other, disgusted by the ruckus and the disarray they were creating. After only a moment, he grimaced, his shoulders shaking. At once, a bright beam of orange light escaped from his horn, and he stomped down hard upon the floor.

“Enough!” he thundered. Both the mare and the brown stallion went still and silent. “Spitshine? Out!”

The brown stallion gave his master an incredulous gaze.

“B-but, My Lord—”

“Out!” Upright repeated, gesturing toward the door.

Looking rather dejected, and a bit stunned, the brown stallion quickly stood up straight in as dignified a posture as he could manage after being scolded in such a way. He then turned tail, and left the room, closing the door behind him. Sonata was left standing quite frazzled and flustered in the middle of the floor. Her dismay only grew as the Earl approached her. Using his magic to pull a chair toward her, he then levitated her into its seat. Drawing the small pouch of bits off of the floor, he used his magic to stretch it open. Eyes moving continuously between the rattled blue mare and the contents of the purse, his expression remained stern and wholly unamused. After what seemed to be an eternity spent in silence, Sonata heard the Earl take a deep breath, and watched as he then levitated the pouch back toward her.

“There are nine bits in this pouch. That is the correct amount,” he murmured, turning to head back toward his desk.

“Forgive me, My Lord,” Sonata exclaimed, taking a deep breath before she powered through her next words. “I-I’m afraid you are mistaken. Th-there should be thirteen bits. That is the usual amount given to me by the former Lord.”

Upright had all but frozen mid-step with his back still facing Sonata. The blue mare seemed to shrink further and further into her seat as his head slowly turned around so that he might gaze at her with a confounded glare. Turning his body, he walked toward her, yet again.

“What did you just say?” he murmured, an almost lethal tone in his voice. Sonata gulped, wishing that she could just take her words back and leave. Still, what was done was done. If she was to be on the Earl’s bad side, she would at least have her thirteen bits.

“Th-there should be… thirteen bits… in… the… pouch?” she squeaked, her eyes now trained straight ahead into the Earl’s broad chest. Holding her breath until her cheeks turned purple, she willed herself to gaze up at his face. When she did, she found him giving her a cold, narrow-eyed look. He ground his teeth behind tightly pulled lips.

“Miss Dusk?” the Earl murmured.

“Yes, My Lord?” Sonata choked, beginning to feel an old urge to draw into herself, and forever be silent beginning to take hold of her. She attempted to cough out a tightening sensation growing about her throat.

“There has been no mistake," the stallion finished.

The Earl lowered his head so as to look Sonata straight in the eye.

“I think it would do us both some good at this point, Miss Dusk, if I were to make you aware of all the things of which I am aware. Naturally, these things concern you.” Upright turned to pace the length of his room, and then pace back.

“For example, are you aware, Miss Dusk, that I am aware that the Fylleion farm has been doing poorly in terms of keeping up enough stock for the rapidly increasing populations of both Greenwaters and Trotchester?"

Sonata bit her lip.

"Yes, My Lord, but you see—"

"Also, are you aware that I am aware that despite all of these shortcomings, you still receive the minimum payment from my estate that is required to sustain and enhance your farm to keep up with these growing demands?"

Upright traversed the floor once again, until he stood directly before her.

"Yes, I am, My L—"

"And, are you aware that I am aware of the added income that you acquire during your forays in the Greenwaters market?"

Sonata's eyes went wide, and her mouth sealed itself shut. The vice-like sensation about her throat clamped her voice box closed as she listened to the Earl's tone go very low.

"What I simply cannot seem to understand, Miss Dusk, is how you could possibly be in need of more bits when, according to my books, you receive exactly as much as is required, and then some. What do all of those bits go toward, I wonder?"

The room was silent for a while as they looked at one another. Sonata, now curled up into her seat, stared at the Earl as if on the brink of stunned tears. Clearing her throat, she managed to force out pained croaks.

"I can assure you, I wouldn't know either, My Lord. Y-you see, my mother and father have only left the physical maintenance of the farm to me. I-I'm not privy to their personal ledger besides what it takes to maintain the farm. All the other payment I receive is sent off to them to be used as they see fit."

Upright reached upward, and stroked his chin in a fashion that anypony might have said was reminiscent of his father.

"And how, Miss Dusk, is that any concern of mine?"

Sonata raised her hoof, and inhaled as if to answer before she realized she had nothing to say to this. Looking desperate, she leaned forward in her chair, half raising up to meet the Earl's gaze.

"My Lord, this land is yours. I can only do with it as much as you would allow. I am trying to expand. I am! In fact, I was going to get started today, but I need thirteen bits, My Lord, thirteen bits to pay my workers. If I can't have that much I cannot do as you wish," Sonata blurted while looking quite perplexed. She was sure that she didn't know where all of those words had just come from.

Gazing back up toward Upright who seemed to be studying her deeply, the blue mare was nearly bowled over out of her seat when she saw his horn begin to glow with magic. Peering behind him, she then caught sight of four gold bits floating upward, out of the stallion's desk, and toward her. Neatly and efficiently, they fell into her now opened and floating pouch. The drawstrings pulled tight, and at once, fell into the blue mare's lap. Her head rose to smile brightly at Upright, only to, again, be met with that icy, blue glare.

"Allow me to make something absolutely clear to you, Miss Dusk. While I may be able to tolerate the old Lord's ridiculous obsession with your frivolous, provincial pastimes, I cannot and will not tolerate your carelessness with Goldenstalks property. If you and your family continue to squander what it is that has been so graciously put under your care, then make no mistake, it shall promptly be taken away, and given to somepony who can prove themselves more... efficient. Do you understand?"

The blue mare cowered before the stallion, gulping down a lump in her throat.

"Y-yes, My Lord," she squeaked.

"Good," Upright said after a beat. "You may leave."

He turned around with an air of finality, and slowly began to head toward his desk. Rising to her hooves, her face flushed, Sonata began to straighten her robes just as she heard the sounds of energetic hoofsteps approaching out in the hallway. Before she could pull herself away from her hems, in from the hall rushed a gorgeous, yellow mare, as brilliant as the midday sun itself. She was draped in lavish purple robes, and her mane glittered with gold. In her magenta-hued unicorn magic, she levitated a fresh bouquet of golden-hued flowers.

“Good day, My Lord," she began with a sigh, not yet having noticed the other pony in the room. When her glimmering eyes landed upon Sonata as the blue mare was straightening her hems, her face at once looked utterly incredulous. Seeing this, the shaken earth mare quickly tripped onto the ground, but saved what little face she had left by rolling into a low bow.

"G-greetings, My Lady Countess!" she yelped, keeping her eyes trained toward the floor.

Hearing nothing, Sonata allowed her eyes to trail upward, only to catch the Countess' gaze shifting angrily—suspiciously even—between herself and Upright who now sat writing at his desk, looking rather disinterested. The blue mare recoiled into herself.

Everypony in Greenwaters was well aware of the Countess Goldenstalks’ impatience. It seemed as if the Earl Goldenstalks' wife—who, in every sense of the word, was perfect—could not understand those who did not meet her constant demands for perfection. In her quest to, apparently, be the most flawless and upstanding noblemare in peerage to the Canterlotian throne, she took hold of the affairs of the estate with an iron grip practically as soon as the Earl had said "I do," at the altar. On the one hoof, Sonata could not remember ever seeing the estate look more gorgeous, more perfect. Ponies came from afar just to stand beyond its gates to get a glimpse at its lush gardens and colorful courtyards. On the other hoof, all these enhancements took extraordinary pony power. The Countess' constant displeasure with almost everything anypony would do without her instruction assured that the Goldenstalks' estate staff was on rotation and replacement on a frequent basis. Anypony who worked in the Goldenstalks household could thank their lucky stars if they lasted more than a week; a month, and you were warranted a party in town by the rest of the staff.

Still, considering she would make the occasional trip to the Goldenstalks manor, or in this case, their country estate, it was apparent to Sonata that over time, the Countess’ disposition was becoming more and more inconsolable. Naturally, knowing the ways of common, country folk, it was only a matter of time before the rumors began.

Those rumors, as the sociable blue mare was made privy to whilst in the company of friends, had much to do with the Countess’ failure to give the Earl an heir. After all, her place as Countess could never be solidified until she could produce an undisputed successor to the Goldenstalks Earldom. Of course, there was speculation that stated the Earl was just too boring and bored to take any interest with the glorious creature by his side. Another said that maybe he simply kept too many mistresses to be bothered with being weighed down by marriage and fatherhood. That one made the least bit of sense since everypony knew there was nopony as lovely as Lady Adagio. Also, such a bore and by-the-books type of pony as Upright Goldenstalks couldn’t possibly have had the wherewithal to actually act upon the notion of keeping a mistress. One more rumor—the most believable one—stated that perhaps the Lady Adagio had no interest in the Earl at all. Hardly anypony took an actual intimate interest with the stallion, maybe because there was barely any magnetism there to be attracted to. It was clear from the start that the match between them was made out of necessity, and had never turned into a bond of growing desire that one would hope for such mandatory pairings. Regardless, the reality of the situation remained that, try as she might with her absolutely enthralling...well… everything, after three years of marriage, the Goldenstalks nursery remained as quiet and empty as ever. It was no wonder that the Countess, considering the ever increasing precariousness of her predicament, had become more on edge, more obsessed with perfection in lieu of her inability to be perfect in her most important duty.

Looking at her now, Sonata could see her lovely features curling into an angry grimace. Those berry red eyes seemed to go hot.

“What is she doing in here?” the Countess asked in a dangerous tone. Upright, predictably unmoved, gave a loud sigh, and continued to write. His eyes never lifted from the parchment.

“She’s here to collect payment for her visit, as usual.”

“Yes, but what is she doing in here?” the Countess retorted, any effort made to keep the composure in her voice quickly fading. “That is usually done in the great hall, is it not?”

The Earl did not reply. It was all Sonata could do to force herself not to blurt out in her usual fashion to tell the Countess that she was wondering the same thing, and that she would much rather have preferred the great hall, herself. To her own dismay, she found that her lips began to tremor, and move of their own accord.

“Mmmy… My Lady, I—” she began. However, before she could get anything more out, she saw those bitter eyes slide back toward her from where she was bent low upon the floor. They went wide with disbelief.

“How dare you? I have not given you permission to address me directly,” she hissed.

Sonata, now terrified, bowed her head so low that her forehead made a dull ‘THUD’ as it hit the wooden floor.

“Get out,” the Countess spat, and no sooner had she, did Sonata bound up from the floor. Without another word or look toward either of them, she bolted from the room, down the stairs, and down the hallway toward the servant’s exit. She didn’t stop running until she was well beyond the estate’s grand gates.

Out of breath, Sonata then stared back up toward one of the manor’s windows just in time to catch sight of the Countess peering down upon her. The beautiful, yellow unicorn grimaced, and then used her magic to close off her view by tugging a curtain over the pane.

After taking a moment to wipe the startled tears from the corner of her eyes, Sonata straightened her braid, and made an attempt to decipher what it was about her in particular that had irritated the Countess so thoroughly. After all, it wasn’t as if this was the first time that the two had met. Realizing that the thought of all this threatened to haunt and worry her for the rest of the day, the lovely blue mare shrugged off her ponderings, and then turned to secure the bits pouch she carried to her side. Taking a deep breath, she then began down the path toward the farmlands. Noticing the level of the sun in the sky, she decided it would be best to take a shortcut, and veered right once coming upon the edges of a deep forest.

Troubled Waters

Don't ruin the robe. Don't ruin the robe.

Sonata’s work-worn hooves darted through a patch of wild flowers sitting serenely amongst the immense and ancient trees of Sardhoof Forest. As they zipped by, a streak of flowing white snagged itself upon a low-hanging branch, and tore away. The limb seemed to wave the strip of fabric at its fleeing owner as a spiteful farewell.

Oh, buckwheat. I've ruined the robe.

The edge of the woods could now be seen as well as the wide, open meadow that sat on its other side, bathed in early afternoon daylight. From this distance, one could just barely make out a tiny cottage sitting atop a hill on the opposite edge of the expansive field. There was a sizeable group of ponies standing about its quaint, crooked gate.

"I'm here!"

A few of the ponies swung about to face the direction of the forests. A couple more could be seen trotting out from behind the cottage to come have a look.

"I'm here!" Sonata yelled again as she broke through the threshold of the wood, and sprinted across the fields toward her home. Every inch of the land was familiar underhoof; thus, she traversed the distance in but a moment.

Her pace slowed as she trotted up the hill, out of breath. The thirteen or so earth ponies stared at her as she approached. Some waved, clearly happy to see her; others looked quite put off by her presence. Regardless, the lovely blue mare's infectious smile never faltered in the slightest.

"I'm sorry I'm late, everypony! I had to make an unexpected trip," she exclaimed, taking a moment to smooth the windblown strands of her mane back into the elegantly rolled braid she was wearing. "A moment, please, whilst I change."

A few in the group gave a very loud and exasperated sigh. One purple pony dawning a long, yellow braid, stepped forward, and stomped her hoof.

"Sonata, we've been waiting here for two hours! If I'm late home today, I'll right miss my supper!"

The pretty, blue mare at once felt quite guilty.

"Oh. Well, that does seem to be a bit of a problem, doesn’t it?" she began, thinking to herself for a moment. After a few seconds, she sighed, and shrugged, seemingly having come to some great decision. "I suppose I'll just have to make supper for you all this evening, then, as long as you don't mind staying after dark, of course."

A few in the gathering gave a loud cheer, much to Sonata’s surprise.

“Goodness! All that for a pot of vegetable stew, and an apple cake!” she exclaimed, genuinely perplexed. The visitors laughed to themselves, having long since learned to find the cheery mare's absent-mindedness endearing.

It was no secret to anypony that Sonata Dusk wasn't always present in mind even if she was in the flesh; however, what she lacked in the way of complexity, she made up for in loyalty and affection. That, and her cheerful disposition, made her the type of mare that most anypony found themselves wanting to be around. Indeed, ever since she had taken over as the caretaker of the Fylleion farmstead, the small, humble cottage had become something of an axis for the surrounding commoners of this countryside. Needed to borrow a good hat or robe for an important outing? Ask Fylleion's daughter. Had a lover broken your heart? That Dusk mare was a great listener. Did you have no place to stay for the night? The small cottage on the hill always welcomed the needy; the lovely, blue mare that lived there would see to it that you were treated with the utmost care.

In the same vein, everypony knew well how entertaining suppers at the Fylleion farm were. Sonata’s impromptu get-togethers were the talk of the countryside, even though the cheery, blue mare could never seem to figure why. After all, it usually only consisted of a large pot full of a meager meal, a cake or pie, a small tub of some rather weak cider, and of course—a song or two.

“Oh, sticks. Oh, fennel,” she mumbled to herself while undoing her ornate braid, and trotted off toward the cottage’s kitchen door.

Upon entering the cottage, Sonata immediately noted how quiet the empty space was. Something, again, tugged at her heart, and her eyes went sad as she made her way through the main room, and into the bedroom that was once her parents'. The entire house was at least a bit cheerier than when Fylleion had lived there. When they had first departed on their quest for land of their own as well as better seed for their farm, Sonata, thinking that they might return rather soon, felt obliged to leave things exactly as they had always been—dreary.

Then a week passed. Then a month. Then a year came and went, and by that time, Sonata had no choice but to take up the reins of control over the farm, despite how unacclimated she was to pondering over money, trade, and taxes. It was all quite exhausting for her, and usually worked to make her brain hurt. But with a little help from some of her more experienced friends, eventually, like all other things to which she had not been previously accustomed, she became accustomed to it.

By the third year of her parents' absence, Sonata had practically made the cottage her own—purely by accident, of course. The main room was cozier, filled with flowers, colorful paintings, cushions, and dolls, all made by her own hooves. Her old, beloved stuffed pony, Socks, seemed to sit gleefully amongst its more expertly-crafted companions.

The bedroom had been transformed as well. As Sonata now walked through the warm, lamplit, room that smelled of wildflowers and apple pie—which she secretly liked to eat in bed—she found it interesting how much she still missed the dark and dour stylings of her mother. Still, the blue mare had decided long ago that if she should be made to worry and fret over farm affairs which were quite stressful to comprehend, she should at least be allowed the opportunity to come home to some place that felt welcoming, affectionate, some place that felt as if it appreciated her being there. As she caught a glance of the pretty mark upon her flank whilst carefully attempting to remove her robe, she couldn’t help but be reminded of her unquestionable need for love, almost as important as her unquestionable need for song.

Clutching the bits pouch between her teeth, Sonata moved toward an enormous chest that sat at the edge of her cozy bed. Unlocking it with a key that she pulled from its hiding place beneath a nearby floorboard, she cracked the dusty thing open. The hinges creaked as the lid fell back to reveal an array of field clothing, parchments, money, and small tools. Glancing down wistfully at the coins therein, Sonata bit her lip, and wondered how she might be able to make the amount work for tomorrow evening's supper, especially since most of those coins were to be her parents’ payment for the week, and especially since she would be cooking for a small gathering tonight. For a moment, she flirted with the idea of keeping some of the extra money she might make from singing in the market in the days to come, but quickly shook the notion from her mind. She couldn't act in such a deceitful way toward Master Fylleion and Thistle. They would know, if not by the bits count she sent, then by the guilty look they would see on her face upon their return. Sonata grimaced at the thought of what an ungrateful and selfish pony she was being.

With a heavy sigh, she plopped the money pouch into the chest, and pulled out the old, worn shawl her mother had sewn for her when she was little. Taking a moment to nuzzle her cheek against the ragged thing, she then tied it about her neck. It fit more snuggly now, but still managed to comfortably hide her scar. Reaching into the chest again, she then pulled a large, straw, sun hat out, and plopped it upon her head before fetching out a roll of old bandages. Gingerly, she began to wrap them around her hind hooves. They would need all of the support they could get considering the grueling work that was in store for her today.

Locking the trunk with a sigh, Sonata headed back out to meet the others. The sight of the rather upbeat gathering of friends and acquaintances who had come together to help her in such short notice, made her feel renewed. She could tell by the looks of them that they too were feeling quite energetic, probably about the notion of supper. Sonata did have to admit that she was an excellent cook.

Stretching out her legs, and cracking her joints, she gave them all an encouraging smile, and trotted toward the cottage gate in the direction of the open fields. There would be time for merrymaking later. Right now it was time to work.

"Alright! Does everypony remember their jobs?—Because I don't," she blurted bashfully.

Everypony nodded, and passed her that same, endearing smile.

"We've cleared a field or two before, Sonata," Ryegrass chuckled, trotting toward her. "If we work without stopping, we might even have this all done by the end of the day!"

"Really?" Sonata gasped, her eyes going bright. "That would be wonderful!”

Turning to face the field, she quickly began to trot away.

"Well, then what are we waiting for?"

___

She dug her hind hooves into the soil as she bore down. The ropes attached to her breast collar pulled taut as they were met by the tree stump's resistance. Sweat poured down her brow in the heat of the midday sun.

“Heave!” she heard Dandy call from beside her, and she gave another hard tug. Her left hind hoof shook, and for a moment, her head reeled. Her empty stomach growled in protest. Seeing her falter out of the corner of his eye, Dandy’s brow knit with concern.

“Sonata, we could take a rest if you need it. You look tired.”

From where he was standing, Dandy could not see the look of determination upon the blue mare's face. Even as the pain ripped up her sore hind legs, and the sweat poured down from beneath her wide brimmed hat, she carried on. These hardships were not to get the better of her. She had seen hardships before, and she had persevered through them. If it was one thing that she learned about the good things in life, whether it be finding a family, keeping friends, or even expanding a farm, it was that none of it came without grueling hard work. If these tasks were to be done for those she cared for, then she was glad to do it.

“No, no, Dandy. I’m fine,” she huffed passing him a sweet smile. Looking out to the rest of the field, she could see the other ponies busy hoisting up more stumps or carrying them off toward the woods. “I just don’t wish to fall behind is all.”

Shaking her head free of its haze, she bore down again, never noticing the nervous expression Dandy was now giving her. He cleared his throat, and bore down as well, still eyeing her with interest.

“Yes, well, in that case, may I ask you something, Sonata?”

“‘Course!” the blue mare croaked as she struggled against the rope.

“I was wondering if perhaps lately, you’ve been considering the prospects of… marriage?”

Her hoof slipped, and she yelped in surprise as she nearly fell over into Dandy’s side.

“Oop! I’m fine!” she laughed, straightening herself. “I’m fine!”

Glancing about so as to avoid the stallion’s gaze, she cleared her throat, and fought back the flush that threatened to burn her entire face.

“Weeellll, I… You see, I haven’t really… My, this really doesn’t seem like the proper time to discuss such a thing, does it?” she laughed anxiously.

“Well, any time is a good time for this type of thing,” Dandy laughed in return. From where she stood, Sonata could see his cheeks going red as well. “I… I’m sure it would make handling the farm much easier if you would—”

“Oh, dear! The others are getting ahead again,” Sonata blurted, in a blatant attempt to cut him off.

“I… I suppose what I’m trying to ask you is if, perhaps you have ever considered me to be—”

“Berry and Clover just left those roots sticking out of the ground! I should have known they would do something like that!” the mare exclaimed again.

“Well, perhaps before I say that,” Dandy continued on, ever determined. “I should first tell you how I feel about—”

Lost in his own thoughts, the stallion didn’t notice Sonata putting all of the force she could manage against the rope, nor did he see the stump behind him beginning to wriggle loose. Before he could finish his words, there was a cracking in the earth, and the old stub came free. It managed to bowl him over as it knocked into his rear. Sonata sighed in relief—though not for having finally pulled the thing from the earth. Passing him an allayed grin, she quickly loosened the ropes from about her breast.

“Oh, look, we did it! Well, that’s done! I suppose I should go, and help the others then! Until next, Dandy!” she jabbered, forcing a laugh as she quickly darted away further into the field, leaving the poor stallion tangled in his ropes.

When she was a fair distance away, she gave a great heave. Sitting down a moment to rest, she removed her hat, wiped the sweat from her brow, and closed her eyes.

“Miss Sonata!” called a small voice from somewhere far to her left. The sound of it made her ear twitch. Taking a look, her frown was replaced with a bright smile as she saw two foals approaching. A little pink filly with a curly, yellow and light green mane took the lead. She carried a water bucket between her teeth. Close behind her followed a blue colt. Sonata raised her hat, and waved with it before plopping it back down upon her head.

“Peat! Nia! How are you?” she called out to them. Standing up, she began to walk a bit closer until the two little ones stood before her. Nia, the filly, spat out the bucket handle, and smiled up at her.

“We brought you all some water!” she yelled. The colt immediately gave her an irritated glare.

“I drew it from the well, and carried it most of the way here,” he muttered to himself.

“I said we!” the filly retorted with a roll of her eyes.

The mare couldn’t help but laugh as she now caught sight of Begonia Blossom, the foals’ mother, trotting down the hillside toward her. She was carrying yet another bucket.

Sonata held a special place in her heart for Petunia and Peat Moss, and they for her; for they shared very similar origins. The two foals, once upon a time, had been left abandoned on the roadside outside of Trotchester quite shortly after they had been born. Begonia, one of the most caring mares Sonata knew, had found them coming home from a trip to market, and not having the heart to leave them, resolved herself to taking them in. She had no husband or children of her own, and everypony could see that the two foals had done wonders for her disposition despite the absolute hoofful they both obviously were.

Looking out over the field, Sonata could see that all of the stumps had already been cleared, and a few of the ponies had even begun pulling up the weeds and grasses. There was still a few daylight hours left, and it looked as if they would be finished by nightfall. It seemed a good time to take a break.

“Thank you! That was quite thoughtful of you two, wasn’t it?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, she tilted her hat back, brought her head down, and drank deeply from the bucket. The water was refreshing, rejuvenating even, and by the time Sonata lifted her head with a content sigh, Begonia was standing before her.

“Sonata, dear, you look like death!” the red-orange mare cried. “How long have you been out here? Have you eaten?”

Sonata smiled bashfully. Of course, the answer to that question was no. She hadn’t had the time, but she had been running late. What else was there to do but wait until supper?

“How are you Bea?” she laughed, attempting to change the subject.

“Oh, forget about me. I’m not the pony who has been slogging through this dreadful heat all afternoon. How is everypony?”

“You three came just in time, it seems. It looks like everypony is in good need of a break,” Sonata replied glancing around one more time. The rest of the workers, having spotted the buckets, had already begun to approach the two mares.

“Yourself included,” Begonia harped on, her golden eyes glimmering with concern.

A moment of silence passed as the mare took an opportunity to study Sonata who now looked anxiously at the ground. The blue mare knew that if there ever was a transparent pony, it was herself. The only thing that prevented others from freely reading every last thing that bothered her was her own practiced caution in telling them about the matter in the first place. She had made that mistake with Begonia a long time ago, but fortunately, the mare had indeed turned out to be quite a trustworthy—if not overly motherly—acquaintance. Still, the knowing look she was giving Sonata worked to make her nervous. What came next seemed inevitable.

“Did Fylleion and his wife send their messengers again? Their accursed collectors? Is that why you look like this? Hm?”

“No, not today, Begonia,” Sonata sighed. “And they aren’t ‘collectors’.”

“Well, then what are they, Sonata?” Begonia asked, her tone dropping into a restless whisper.

The field ponies were just now reaching them. Begonia quickly turned to her children who had been watching the two adults murmuring and whispering to each other with curious interest. She then directed them to carry their bucket off to meet the workers, so that they might not hear the two mares’ private conversation. The foals rushed off, not wanting to test their mother’s patience whilst she was wearing that perturbed look upon her face. Turning back around to face Sonata, Begonia huffed to see the mare looking quite worn down. She knew that her nagging wasn’t helping. Closing her eyes, and taking a deep breath, the red-orange mare attempted to calm herself.

“Sonata, please listen to me. Eventually, you shall have to be realistic about all of this, about what this is. Now, I haven’t known you your entire life, but from what I’ve heard, this rubbish isn’t new. Why can’t you be honest with yourself about what is taking place?”

Begonia saw that something was happening inside of her friend. Sonata began to shiver as she bowed her head. The orange mare could not tell whether it was from anger or sadness. The blue mare’s large, straw hat concealed her entire face, but could not mask the sound of her breath now coming heavy, and belabored.

“I fear for you, my dear,” Begonia continued, hoping she was getting through to her. “What shall become of you if you lose the farm? Don’t you find it strange how difficult maintaining it has become since your parents have left, and have been sending those… those scoundrels to steal from—”

“In what way, Begonia?” Sonata interrupted, her voice eerily calm.

“W-what? What do you mean?” the other mare asked, sounding quite confused. Sonata lifted her head to look at her. To Begonia’s surprise, the look upon the blue mare’s face was stern. Her raspberry eyes burned with earnestness.

“In what way do you figure the farm has become more difficult to maintain?”

There was a short pause as Begonia tried to work through her astonishment at Sonata’s apparent irritation.

“W-well, I-I suppose that I...Well—”

“Because as a pony who has been farming this land since foalhood, I will have you know that this work, Begonia, has always been ‘difficult’, and I am glad to be able to do it.”

Begonia stared at her wide-eyed.

“I-I didn’t mean to imply that—”

“Do you know what is more difficult, Begonia?—starving, lacking purpose and direction, being scorned by everypony you see."

The red-orange mare’s brow furrowed.

"And Fylleion has helped rid you of all these woes?" she retorted. "Think, Sonata. See clearly. These ponies have been using y—"

"They saved me!" Sonata screamed, her voice echoing across the fields.

All of the field ponies froze to their spots, gawking at the blue mare who now stood huffing in anger. Begonia was utterly taken aback. Her lips tightened shut, and her eyes went wide with shock.

"It is you who cannot seem to see clearly, Begonia," the blue mare began again after calming herself. Her expression was still stern. "I love my parents, and they love me. They taught me how to do something with my nothing life. And surely we can't all be fortunate enough to prance about watering a patch of summer flowers until the Countess throws her annual garden party, and snatches them all up, can we? Of course what I do looks difficult to you. You don't have to feed two towns!"

Begonia looked incensed. Her breast began to heave.

"I'll have you know that my life is equally as subject to the whims of the Earl as yours. All I meant was that there should not be any reason to have money trouble on top of everything else. The Earl does not cause this problem for you. Fylleion and his wife do, and what's more, you don't even know why!"

Sonata shook her head, now quite frustrated with the entire conversation.

"You do not understand,” she groaned, pulling the hat from atop her head with an air of finality. She then turned in the direction of the cottage, and began to walk. “I should have never opened my big mouth to you.”

“Sonata!” Begonia squawked, sounding heartbroken. “W...where are you going?”

The blue mare turned back around to face her. Surprisingly, her expression had returned to its usual state—one of unperturbed blankness.

“Well, that stew and apple cake aren’t just going to make themselves, are they? At least not in my cottage, Begonia. I can’t say about yours."

She then continued on her way. Begonia, not one to have her friendship so easily shaken, trotted forward a few steps.

“Well, put one of those apples in that big, fat, stubborn mouth of yours, and fill your stomach, will you? I know you haven’t eaten today you little foal, you!”

___

The sun had set, and a new evening was upon them. The field work had been completed just in time to see those last wisps of purple disappear over the horizon. Looking down at it from the lively cottage, everypony couldn’t help but smile at the efficient job they had done.

Sonata bustled around the kitchen humming to herself whilst trying her best to ignore the freckled, stallion following her every step.

"It's because of Dandy, isn't it?" the stallion asked, sounding ireful. When Sonata didn't reply, he huffed. "I knew it! Let me tell you something about Dandy. That herbary of his is filthy. It's full of weeds and rodents, and can barely pull in even one gold bit. Don't let him tell you any different."

In all actuality, the blue mare had barely heard anything the stallion said at all. Why should she have bothered listening when she already knew what he was on about—marriage, as usual.

"Oh, crabgrass!" she gasped suddenly, remembering that she had forgotten the coriander from her stew. "I hope I'm not out."

The freckled stallion stared at her, looking rather deflated as she pushed past him to get to the pantry.

"Sonata, have you heard anything that I've said?"

Sonata's head spun around, very nearly making her tumble from where she balanced on the edge of one of the shelves.

"Hmm? Oh, but..." she muttered, looking rather bashful, "...but I like Dandy's herbs, Pepperjack! They're delicious!"

"Sonata," the freckled Stallion sighed as the mare made her way back down and out into the kitchen. “You can’t avoid the question forever. A mare like you should be settled. Look how much worry you put yourself through handling the farm on your own.”

“Oh, that’s nonsense, Pepper. I’m not alone, and I’m not worried at all,” she lied. “Not when I have so many friends to help me.”

The blue mare picked up the spice container she had rested upon the floor, and tried to push past the stallion. Looking rather determined, Pepper furrowed his brow, and moved to block her path to the stew pot.

“Well, I want to be more than that. I love you, Sonata Dusk. Marry me.”

If her apple cake wasn’t on the verge of burning, Sonata would have positively collapsed with fretfulness. She tapped her hooves together whilst shrinking in the stallion’s midsts. She dared not look him in the eye.

“Yrs, wll… Bit of a prblm, that, inn’t it?” she stammered, spice tin between her teeth. The nervous sweat was beginning to drip down the back of her neck again as she watched Pepperjack’s lips tighten.

“Well… why—”

Feigning a sneeze, Sonata sent a cloud of dry spice billowing up into Pepperjack’s face. The stallion, in turn, began to sneeze uncontrollably, himself.

“Goodness! Pardon me! Oh, look! Cake’s finished!” the blue mare blurted, dropping the tin, and worming her way around the stallion, toward the oven. Popping it open, she handled the beautiful dessert with care. Biting down upon a rag to make sure the platter did not burn her, she moved to carry it outside to the other guests.

“Dnt wnnit tr grt cld!” she mumbled to Pepperjack before rushing away, leaving him alone and frustrated inside of the kitchen.

Moving to sit upon a blanket behind the cottage, Sonata glanced around at her guests, and smiled. It seemed that word had gotten around that she had made supper since it appeared that the gathering had now doubled in number. Fortunately, the added guests brought dishes of their own to share with everypony else which was certainly a relief, especially since she didn't have the extra money to shop at the market the following day. Hopefully there would be leftovers that evening.

Thankfully, the sporadic propositions for marriage had died down as the evening went on, and varied ponies rediscovered their affections for other varied ponies under the spell of cider. Looking around at all of the budding relationships being made, for the life of her, Sonata just could not understand why everypony kept harping on about marriage. What was so wonderful about being tied down to one source of romantic affection forever?

Suddenly, she was struck with an odd feeling of guilt for having such thoughts. She knew that such prospects were very important to some of the ponies she called her friends. Sonata could only imagine what it must be like to want that type of love so badly, and for no particular reason, be unable to find it. Begonia, that sweet—if not a bit bossy—creature had yet to find such a thing. Sonata had to acknowledge that there was definitely something that seemed wrong with the fact that all of these stallions kept insisting on prodding, and perturbing her about this type of thing when it was clear she wasn't interested and Begonia was. To her, the idea of marriage felt like something those who were sure of themselves did, and she certainly was not that. The truth remained that despite how much she had grown over the years, and despite all of these new responsibilities she had unwillfully acquired, she still felt just as unsure, imperfect, and foolish as she had whilst a filly. How could somepony like that be suitable as anypony’s wife? Besides, she was sure that her parents wouldn't exactly approve of her relinquishing the reins to their farm to some stallion they did not know. And the wishes of her parents would always come first.

Looking for some source of calm, she stared up at the open sky, losing herself in the stars. When she’d had her fill of them, her gaze fell down toward her forelegs where Petunia had managed, at some point, to wedge herself in the small nook between them. Sonata nuzzled the filly as the child jostled about, nibbling upon the last piece of cake that the blue mare had hidden away for her. Every now and then, she’d lift her head to argue with her brother who was currently dancing about, wearing Sonata’s wide brimmed hat.

“Give it! You’ve had it long enough!” the filly yelled through a spray of cake crumbs. She swiped at the hat with her teeth whilst trying to remain comfortably in Sonata’s grasp.

“If you want it so badly, then trade your cake for it!” Peat said, jutting out his tongue.

“No! You’ve already had plenty, and Miss Sonata saved this just for me!”

The filly stood up this time, and approached her brother. He still managed to keep the hat just out of her reach. With a huff and stomp of her hoof, she turned to face Sonata, a huge frown upon her adorable face.

“Miss Sonata, make him give me your hat! It’s my turn to wear it!”

"You two, stop pestering Sonata!" Begonia chided as she happened to trot past them whilst carrying dirty dishes into the kitchen.

Sonata laughed bashfully.

"They're not bothering me at all."

"I’d wager Miss Sonata never had to share anything or do what anypony else told her when she was little. Isn’t that right, Miss Sonata?" Petunia exclaimed. "I’d wager when you were all by yourself you could do whatever it was you wished!"

A few of the other ponies who happened to be sitting nearby went quiet. Begonia, having heard her daughter's words from inside of the cottage, rushed back out to give the child a furious glare.

"Petunia Blossom, that was a terrible thing to say! You apologize to Sonata right this instant!"

Sonata, who had been sitting there looking rather stunned by the child's words, eventually settled into an understanding smile. She again scooped up the filly between her forelegs, and smirked.

"It wasn't quite so simple, Nia," she said, patting the child's head. "I had to face plenty of obstacles, as well. Quite a few ponies would keep things away from me that I needed, or they'd try to take things that belonged to me, or even fight me."

Both Petunia and her brother now seemed completely hooked by Sonata's words.

"Well, what did you do?" Peat Moss asked, never noticing that Sonata's hat had now begun to dangle precariously from one of his ears. "Did you fight them? Did you take their things, as well?"

"Oh, no. Never," Sonata giggled. "But I didn't need to. There were plenty of other ways to get what I required, and stay out of trouble."

The two children now looked perplexed.

"How?" Petunia asked, drawing a thoughtful look from the blue mare.

"Well, I just..." she trailed off, not sure how to put those few lonely and desperate years of living homeless into words. "Well, what I did was..."

As she stammered, falling deep into the emotions of her memory, the sounds that escaped her throat became quite strange. They wavered, and flowed as if on the brink of song. After a moment, Sonata huffed, feeling the spot between her chest and neck beginning to swell with feeling and inspiration. The wellspring of her mind slowly opened up.

MISERY will make you—

“No, no,” she interrupted herself as the tune didn’t seem to communicate what she wanted it to. “Hmm.”

Oh, you’d be surprised just what you’d eat when—

“No, that’s not quite right, either.”

The distinct sounds of Sonata’s voice trying to find her song immediately drew the attention of everypony within hearing distance. Soon, shouts for her to continue echoed throughout the yard, and not being one to disappoint, Sonata took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Allowing the inspiration of old memories and current good company wash over her, she waited until a warmth extended all the way out to her legs. Knowing she had finally found her tune, she then turned to face the filly and colt.

The first lesson that I learned,
When I was very little,
Was just to flow like water,
Through troubles big and small.

What use is being rigid,
When you're stuck in the in between?
A little compromising,
Won't hurt too much at all.
You'll see you'll swiftly leave your woes behind.

As she sang, the air became electrified, and the very sky seemed to join along with her in a jovial harmony. Her voice seemed to echo throughout the fields, drawing any wandering guests back toward the cottage to hear. After all of these years, most of these ponies had already been privy to Sonata’s voice ever since she had begun singing in the Greenwaters market when she was small. However, listening to the mare’s voice now, one could not help but cede the fact that something about it had grown, and become far more powerful right along with her. Where her childhood voice would draw ponies in to sing and dance jovially to themselves, in her marehood, Sonata’s alto now commanded attention, and inspired the most unearthly sense of joy and wellbeing. It was no longer a matter of enjoying her song. Her song had become joy itself.

Getting to her hooves, she trotted about Petunia and Peat Moss before coming to a stop between them. Nudging them mischievously she began leading them through some playful hoofwork that she had performed countless times on top of her stage of old boxes in Greenwaters.

Just shift on to the left,
A nudge onto the right,
And you'll slip right through the blight.
To duck a little low,
Won't mean to lose the fight.
You will soon step into light.

Just learn to take it all in stride.
Oh, do as water does and see!

She ensnared the minds of all who heard her, and soon enough, they too began to join in the dancing and singing as if Sonata’s wellspring had been their own.

But heavy is the load on me!

Sonata ‘rounded about toward the gleeful gathering.

I'll show you how to cut them free!

Skipping up to Dandy, she nudged him, bidding him forward to dance. Caught in the midsts of Sonata's melodic web, he swiftly forgot her earlier rejection to his propositions, and obliged.

Just loosen up your middle,
And shake off all the brittle.
It's useless getting angry.
Just let your grudges fall.

Now take a look around you.
The skies are getting clear up there.
Your road no longer narrow,
When you accept the grass, the groves, and all the pathways once unseen, just...

Begonia, stomping along to Sonata's song as she watched all the happy couples dancing, happened to catch sight of Pepperjack standing a short distance away. Saddling up to his side, she swatted him coquettishly with her tail. When he glanced toward her, she let loose a jovial laugh, and tugged him off by the ear to dance.

Budge on to the left,
Little to the right,
And your woes slip out of sight.
Just bend a little low.
You can win the fight,
And you'll step into the light.

Spin out of the way,
Jump with all your might,
Roll on past. Ignore the slights,
And then you're almost there.
You have won the fight,
Reaching up to brand new heights.

Just learn to take it all in stride.
Oh, do as water does and see!

As Sonata twirled amongst her companions, lost in a world all of her own creation, her song reached a fever pitch. Gaily leaping from entranced partner to the next, she never even noticed the new face that had entered the space.

Now, flow like water just like me!
Around we go so merrily!

A pair of forelegs wrapped around her. She reared up onto her hind legs, and turned to face the stallion, but froze upon actually seeing his face. Her radiant smile only grew wider as she took in her dance partner's white fur, brown mane, and that ever so familiar mischievous grin. The buzz of her melody was halted abruptly. Feeling this, everypony turned to stare.

"Prance?" she gasped as if not believing her own eyes.

"Well, how rude," the white stallion chortled, feigning his annoyance rather poorly. "End the merrymaking the moment I arrive, will you?"

"Prance!" Sonata refrained, diving upon him at once. "I can't believe it! What are you doing here? Have you returned from Canterlot? What was it like? Did you see the unicorn court's castle? What about the alicorn enclave? What gifts did you bring me?"

Sonata prattled on as Prance, humored by her endearing enthusiasm, helped her up off of the ground.

Dandy, Pepperjack, and Begonia stood a good distance away, side by side. Watching the entire, irritating display, Pepperjack smirked to himself whilst Begonia grinned knowingly at them both.

“That absolutely irritating Lighthoof,” Pepperjack muttered to himself. “What does he have that I don’t?”

Begonia giggled, and swept past him, swatting her tail in his face once more.

“Definitely not jealousy,” she tittered. “Surely, you’ve plenty of that.

With that, she left the two stallions to their own devices. Dandy, who had been standing there looking quite perplexed the entire time, finally turned to glance at Pepperjack.

“How did we all know the words to that song?” he asked. They both blinked at one another, and shrugged.

___

Looking around the yard, it was clear to see that the festive aura had passed its zenith, and now entered its decline. Everypony had been fed, and had, ultimately, witnessed what it is they had really come to experience—Sonata’s song. The presence of Sir Lighthoof only solidified the function’s end. Everypony knew that when he was about, Sonata's attention would be solely his. Still, the aura in the air remained quite pleasant, and as the two friends stood speaking with one another, the rest of the guests began their inevitable farewells, downing their final swig of cider or gulp of stew.

Begonia Blossom stood a short distance away speaking with another mare whilst intently eyeing Sonata and her companion. Bidding the pony to wait, she hastily made her way over toward the distracted pair. Once there, she coyly walked betwixt the two, whipping her tail about Prance's face.

"Why, Sir Lighthoof," she began, looking quite unimpressed with him, "how generous of you to grace us with your presence. Of course, I didn't notice a blue moon in the sky tonight, but clearly if you are here then..."

"Hello, Bea," Prance said with a smirk. "You're looking quite severe this evening. Good to see some things haven't changed."

Now, Begonia was the one wearing a smirk. Turning to look at Sonata who stood smiling obliviously, the red-orange mare nudged her in the shoulder.

"Sonata, dear, Sugardust has asked after payment for the work today. Perhaps you should hurry along before everypony wanders off."

"Oh, fennel!" the blue mare gasped. "I completely forgot!"

With that, she bolted off toward the cottage, frantically bidding for everypony to wait out front. Before she disappeared into the kitchen door, she turned to face her two friends.

“Come inside, you two! I’ll be but a moment!”

Prance, seemingly without a care in the world, moved forward toward the warm, welcoming glow of the kitchen’s hearth, but was immediately halted by Begonia stepping directly into his path. She placed a hoof firmly against his breast, and stared up into his eyes with a troublingly somber expression.

“I’m gladdened to see you here,” Begonia murmured, suddenly lunging forward to embrace the stallion about the neck. “She needs you here now more than ever.”

Prance’s brow furrowed at these words.

“She’s in trouble,” he stated. “What has happened?”

Begonia sighed, ruffling the mane on the back of Prance’s head.

“Just stay as long as you can, Lighthoof. Somepony has to help her, and she seems to confide in you more easily. I just cannot seem to get through to her.”

Prance slowly moved to embrace the distressed mare, sighing knowingly.

“I see. I understand, now,” he murmured. There was a beat of silence. “I shall try to stay for as long as I can... and to speak with her.”

A relieved sigh escaped the mare, and she embraced him even tighter.

“Alright, alright,” the stallion chuckled. “We’re expected to be at odds with each other, do you not remember?”

He heard the mare sniff, and let loose a small chuckle.

“We are. I’m attempting to strangle you,” she laughed.

Their tender moment was short lived as the pair heard a tittering of tiny giggles coming from the cottage’s direction. Spinning about, Begonia and Prance caught sight of Petunia and Peat Moss spying on them from the kitchen window. Upon being caught, the two foals gasped, and disappeared from the frame.

“Oh, dear. Seems we’ve been found out,” Prance joked saddling up next to Begonia, and playfully making eyes at her. “I suppose now everypony will know about… us.”

Begonia gave a grand roll of her eyes, and at once, began her short trek toward the cottage.

“Feh!” she scoffed, swatting the stallion in the face with her tail as she went. “I am not quite that desperate yet, My Liege.”

___

Upon entering the cabin, Begonia found Sonata running about in a fuss, practically tearing the bedroom and main room apart.

"What in the name of—... What is going on here?" the shaken mare asked, soon joined by Prance who looked equally as stunned.

"The key!" Sonata cried from somewhere in the bedroom. "I've lost the chest key! The workers' payment is in there!"

Prance, sighing, and shaking his head, took a step toward the room whilst Begonia busied herself with rounding up her two children amongst the mess.

"How much was it?" the stallion called to Sonata.

"Th-thirteen!" she replied. "Oh, how shall I ever..."

Without wasting another moment, Prance pulled a satchel from where it hung by his ornamental blade, and headed out toward the front of the cottage. Begonia, Peat Moss, and Petunia followed close behind.

They found him doling out bits to the straggling workers waiting anxiously in the cool night air. They all seemed rushed now, eager to get home before the evening grew too deep, and the creatures of the night began their prowl. Even Begonia could sense an odd air of unrest out there in the dark as she gathered her foals closer to her sides.

As each pony collected their bits, they headed off down the road, most of them in pairs, wary about travelling the path alone. When they had all gone, and the air was silent, Prance closed up his satchel, and turned to smile at the waiting three.

"And that is that," he said, to which he then received three, pleasant smiles.

Suddenly, Begonia's grin faltered as she seemed to spy something troubling.

"Bea? What is it?" Prance asked her. Realizing she was glaring at something behind him, he spun about, and caught sight of two lone figures making their way down the path toward them.

"They wouldn't..." Begonia growled, her brow furrowing with indignation. "Children, go inside."

Peat and Petunia gazed up at their mother, now looking quite anxious.

"No, Mother! We want to stay with you!" Petunia whined, beginning to shiver.

"Who is that, Mother?" Peat Moss asked, sounding more curious than nervous.

"Inside! Now!" Begonia scolded them, rushing them into the cottage before quietly closing the door behind them. Turning about, fire in her eyes, she marched straight away past Prance—who was still looking quite confused—and went to meet the two strangers.

The pair, a dark gray pegasus stallion, and a white pegasus mare—both utterly grim-looking and clad in black—stopped once they had neared the gate. They stood unmoved, and like stone, even when Begonia rushed forward to defiantly point a hoof in their faces.

"How dare you? How dare you?" She hissed, trying not to let her voice carry into the cottage.

"Out of the way, mare," the gray stallion sighed, sounding utterly unimpressed by her anger.

"Have you no shame?" the incensed mare continued. "At this unhallowed hour?"

"We have only come to do our job, miss," the white mare stated plainly. "Out of the way, then."

"No!" Begonia stated plainly, squaring her shoulders, and planting her hooves firmly in the soil. His patience waning, the gray stallion immediately reached toward his side with his teeth to fetch his blade. As he began to strap the thing around his foreleg, the white mare rolled her eyes.

It was at that moment that Prance finally realized who these two ponies were.

"Out of the way, or we shall be forced to use—" the white mare began.

Prance, rushed forward to stand in front of Begonia, and pushed his chest directly up against the gray stallion's.

"Who do you two work for? Is it Fylleion? Where are they? Answer me!" he commanded, immediately stoking the other stallion's anger. The stranger stepped forward, preparing to raise his equipped hoof.

"Who do you think you’re shovin’, you scrawny rat!”

Prance turned to the side to give both strangers a very clear view of the emblem emblazoned upon his own scabbard, that of the royal Canterlotian court.

“That would be Sir rat, if you will, and if you don’t want to end up sharing a cold jail cell in Greenwaters with about thirty or so more rats, then I would suggest that you answer my questions.”

The two ponies seemed to recoil in unison, both of their faces dawning a frighteningly similar look of astonishment. Their eyes slid to the side to peer at one another, and then slid back in the direction of the white stallion before them.

Taking the lead with diplomacy, as she appeared more prone to do, the white mare stepped forward, and cleared her throat. She then nodded her head in a show of reverence.

“It seems we have acted with an unbecoming amount of brashness, Sir…” she stated, waiting for Prance to supply his name.

“Lighthoof,” Prance replied coldly.

“...Sir Lighthoof,” the mare repeated. “For that we must beg your pardon. I am Echo Hum, and this is Silent Wing.”

With haste, she reached to her side where her own belt hung, fixed with blade and pouches of all sorts. Reaching into a pouch, she managed to pull out a small, rolled parchment. Unfurling the thing upon the ground with her nose, she nudged it forward for Prance to read.

“We are agents of the Lock & Stock Safeguard, the most trusted and efficient private courier and safeguarding service in all of the kingdom for over two hundred years. It boasts the most well-known messengers and protectorates of equine nobility, et cetera, et cetera, and so on, and so forth. We are simply here to collect a delivery due from one Miss Sonata Dusk.”

The white mare rolled the parchment back up before Prance could even finish reading it, and tucked it back into her belt. Flipping her long, silver mane out of her eyes, she smiled at him coyly. “She didn’t make an expected appearance at the Greenwaters branch this morning, and so—”

“And so you’re here to terrorize her!” Begonia interjected, jutting her head out from behind Prance. “You pegasi are all the same: humorless, violent, hot-headed ruffians. I’d wager it wouldn’t even matter if you were being paid for this service, so long as you could frighten the timid and gentle as much as possible. Why don’t you two just fly back up to your grim, little cloud, and go buck—”

“Bea, that’s enough,” Prance chided her, nudging her back. He then turned to face the two pegasi, both looking completely unfazed by Begonia’s outburst, "You two know where Fylleion is, then?" he asked.

"I'm afraid I do not," the mare stated plainly. "We are but humble messengers. And, of course, Lock & Stock wouldn't be what it was if we were privy to all of our very important patrons' information."

"Very important...?" Prance murmured to which the mare leaned in further toward him, wearing a sly grin.

"Indeed, Sir Lighthoof. And might I add that many of our patrons just so happen to outrank your authority, the most applicable being your authority to stop us from completing our task this evening."

The white stallion seemed perplexed by all of this.

"How, then, do these so called important patrons receive their belongings if nopony is able to locate them?"

"They. Simply. Do," the pegasus mare declared with a final stomp of her hoof. Her silver eyes bore into the white stallion as if daring him to prod further. "Now, out of our way. We have a job to complete."

Begonia huffed loudly from where she stood behind Prance. Making her way out to his side, she stared down the two pegasi with her companion.

"Not a chance. There is nothing here for you tonight. You will just have to let Fylleion know that he and his wife will have to wait."

Sonata Dusk, oblivious to the confrontation taking place out in the road, had somehow managed to harness the youthful enthusiasm and effort of the Blossom children in aiding her opening of the chest. In hindsight, it seemed rather simple, really. Just a large knife, a bit of oil, two foals performing a forward somersault, a good kick from her hind hoof, and finally, the large, locked box popped right open. Grabbing up the satchel that bore the Goldenstalks seal, Sonata bid the children to wait inside, and quickly made her way toward the door.

Upon exiting the cottage, the sight that awaited her filled her with dismay. There stood Prance and Begonia hassling two straggling guests about something or other. Her brow furrowing, she, briskly made her way toward the four ponies standing in the road. It wasn't until she had reached the distance of the gate that she realized the two strangers had wings. Peering closer, a different tale began to unfold in Sonata’s head as she realized who it was that had visited her farm.

"W...what's happening here? Is something the matter?" she asked, forcing her way between Begonia and Prance. She eyed her friends suspiciously, and awaited an acceptable explanation. Naturally, it was Begonia who proved unable to hold her tongue.

“Sonata, these two just showed up in the middle of the night to harass you for—”

“For their payment. I know,” the blue mare interrupted. Turning about to face the two pegasi, she smiled politely. “I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to make it into Greenwaters this morning. Something urgent came up, you see.”

“Yes, well, that is no concern of ours, Miss Dusk,” Echo replied, unmoved by the earth mare’s explanation. “The only thing that concerns us is that our patrons receive what is due them, when it is expected.”

“I know, and I’m sorry, but—”

“Spare us,” Silent Wing stated plainly. “Do you have it or not?”

It took a moment for Sonata to catch her wits from the coldness of the two, something she figured she might never get used to. Still, she understood they were just doing their job, and nodded her head.

“Yes, I have it,” she said turning about to head back into the cottage. “Just one—”

“Sonata, what—” Begonia began, blocking her path. Sonata immediately shoved her out of the way, giving her a rather serious look.

“Just one moment,” the blue mare finished as she headed back into the cottage.

Begonia, looking rather dejected, now stood off to the side, pouting and shaking her head. In the mean time, Prance passed the pegasi pair an unamused glare. He remained silent, watchful, studying the situation as it unfolded.

In a moment, Sonata returned from the cottage toting a large sack of bits. Pushing her way past her friends, she moved to stand before the pair of pegasi.

“Here it is. The usual, yes? One hundred bits,” she said dropping the sack, and pushing it forward with absolutely no hesitation. The audible sound of Begonia gasping and Prance huffing in disbelief echoed throughout the yard. Even Echo and Silent’s eyes went wide with shock at how effortlessly she had relinquished such an exorbitant amount of currency.

“S-Sonata, are you mad?” Begonia gasped, her mind reeling. “This is what they expect of you every time? Do you realize how much this—”

“Yes, I do, Begonia,” Sonata chided her, “and I don’t care. I must do what is expected of me.”

As she was speaking to her friend, and whilst Prance was attempting to calm the air between them both, Echo Hum and Silent Wing glanced down at the heavy sack of bits upon the ground, and then toward each other. The blue mare had given up the money so easily, so willingly. It was something utterly unfeasible considering that one hundred bits was quite a costly amount for any common pony, much less a lowly tenant farmer. Still, the seemingly dedicated mare had miraculously found a way to obtain it. An identical thought seemed to occur to the both of them. At precisely the same moment, wicked grins spread across their maws.

“This isn’t enough,” the white mare stated quite plainly, drawing an abrupt silence from the three bickering earth ponies before her. All of them eyed her in disbelief.

“W-what?” Sonata gasped. “But this is exactly the amount that—”

“The amount has been doubled,” Silent Wing interrupted her. “Had you made your scheduled trip to Greenwaters this morning, then perhaps you could have received this message from the patron much earlier. You could have been better prepared this evening.”

“Mother and father want… more?” the poor mare asked in disbelief, her raspberry eyes going wider by the moment. “B-but why would—”

“As I so patiently explained to your companions before your arrival,” Echo interrupted, “we do not know, and we do not care. We are merely here to deliver messages, and to settle accounts. The message we have for you this evening, Miss Dusk, is that the account to be settled is now worth two hundred bits. Do you have this amount or not?”

All of the exhaustion and the worry that Sonata had been putting herself through for the past couple weeks now seemed to show clearly upon her face. She wilted, looking as if the life had been drained from her all at once. One hundred bits per week was already such a large cost that she could barely manage to comfortably sustain herself. How on earth would she be able to survive if double were required of her?

“No, I… I don’t have two hundred bits,” she squeaked. That horrible tightness that she despised so much threatened to clench her throat shut. “How could I possibly have so much?”

Echo and Silent grimaced. With a sigh, the white mare snatched the bits satchel up, and passed it off to Silent to carry. The look she gave the blue mare before her was very stern.

“This isn’t good, Miss Dusk,” she began as she turned to leave. “This isn’t good at all. I suppose that we shall have to let the patron know immediately that you cannot—”

“No, wait!” Sonata yelped, rushing forward to stop them. She never saw the knowing grin now plastered upon Echo’s face. Straightening her expression, the white pegasus slowly turned around, and stared at the distraught earth mare quite boredly.

“Yes?”

“I… If I were to find a way to get the other hundred, how long do you think I might have to do it?” Sonata asked, her voice wavering.

“Sonata!” both Begonia and Prance screamed in shock. Begonia stepped forward.

“You can’t possibly be considering—”

Sonata raised a hoof to silence her, keeping her eyes trained fervently upon Echo. The pegasus mare seemed to be thinking to herself.

“Well, I cannot know definitely, of course, by the very nature of our work,” she began. “But I suppose if I were to use other instances like this as an example, I would estimate perhaps another week or two. Of course, since this is a weekly payment, the bulk amount due in that time would surpass a mere two hundred bits. You must stay current with your expenses, Miss Dusk.”

The red-orange earth mare, shaking with anger from where she stood behind her friend, took a few steps forward. Her mouth hung open with repudiation.

“You crooks. You crooks! All of you! Since you two scoundrels are so fantastic with delivering messages, then perhaps you can tell Fylleion and his wife that there is no way that Sonata is going to—”

“Begonia!” Sonata screamed, at long last having lost her patience with the mare. “Stop! Just stop it! You always prance about telling me what I should do, and speaking on my behalf as if I were another one of your foals! Well, I'm not, and this matter is none of your concern. So, it would please me greatly if you would just stay out of it! I'm going to do as I wish no matter what you have to say on it, and if you don't fancy that, then you can just leave!"

It was as if she had been wounded. Begonia peered at her friend in disbelief, fumbling for words. Her eyes grew glossy and red before—perhaps to save face—she turned her head away, and sniffed. After having composed herself, she looked toward Sonata one last time.

"Well, I suppose that’s that, then. You want me to leave you alone? I'll do just that. You shan’t ever have to be treated as one of my foals again, Sonata. Good evening to you all."

With that, she spun about, and headed off toward the cottage to collect her children, shrugging off Prance's attempt to stop her. Realizing what she had done, Sonata's angry expression melted away. A lump grew in her throat as she took a step forward.

"B... Bea..." she croaked.

The red-orange mare ignored her completely as she called her children out into the road. With one final glance, she turned about, and headed off down the path. Petunia and Peat Moss followed apprehensively.

There was a beat of silence before the sound of Echo Hum sighing caught Sonata's ear, and she turned back about. A stray tear fell from her eye as she did so.

"Well, I should think I've had my portion of drama for the evening," the white mare began with a cold chuckle. "And while all this has proven most entertaining, we really must be on our way. So, what shall it be, Miss Dusk? Will you have the full payment in two week's time?"

Trying her best to fight off thoughts about Begonia, Sonata sniffed away yet more tears that threatened to fall. She passed the pegasus a determined glare, her raspberry eyes catching fire.

"I shall find a way," she stated with a sure nod of her head. For once, her voice did not waver.

Author's Note

Budget musical, this chapter is. :rainbowlaugh:

Link to Sonata's song, 'Like Water (Vocals)':
https://youtu.be/ZL0JutOfSE8

And instrumentals:
https://youtu.be/w_d64QUhr7w

Upon Deaf Ears

They wouldn’t have noticed the dark clouds rolling in overhead if it weren’t for the steady flashes of lightning. It was enough to draw both Sonata and Prance to the front windows to see what was the matter. At first, they suspected a bit of retribution by their pegasi visitors from earlier that evening. Maybe they actually had taken offense to Begonia's insults, and decided to retaliate with a bit of wind and rain for good measure. However, upon looking up at the sky, the two earth ponies took in the startling sight of a wall of cumulonimbus—far more than only two pegasi could feasibly control alone—moving through the area, headed northwest. Interestingly enough, despite the furious flashes that lit up the night, there was not one single trace of thunder. Both of them supposed that the pegasi in question, whoever they actually happened to be, had wanted to keep things as quiet as possible up there.

The pressure in the atmosphere and the ominous whistling of the winds proved to be quite disturbing to the spirit. One could almost taste conflict in the air. Furrowing her brow as the implication of it all dawned upon her, Sonata immediately set to work cleaning what remained of the mess from earlier. Prance busied himself with pouring her the last, lukewarm bowl of stew leftover from earlier in the evening. He then moved back toward the window, sat down beside it, and continued to gaze out into the late evening.

"Marmalade warned me last week, and I just couldn’t believe her!” the mare prattled on as she bustled about. Every now and then, her eyes would dart nervously toward the scene outside. “It seemed so ridiculous at the time, really. But she had told me that Duke Vision and Commander Debon Air of the Doldrums had had some kind of falling out. Supposedly, Vision insulted the commander in some way... a commander! Can you even fathom such a thing? I don't know if I believe it, myself, but Marmy's brother does work in the..."

At long last, when her head snapped around to glance at Prance, the melancholy look upon his face forced her into silence. Forgoing her cleaning—and her bowl of stew—she took a step forward.

“Prance? Are you alright?”

The stallion still didn’t notice her until, at last, she decided to lift a hoof, and wave it frantically in his direction.

“Hmm? Oh, erm. It’s nothing, Sonata. I'm just thinking.”

“Well, obviously,” the mare said with a roll of her eyes. “And what are you thinking about?"

A thought occurred to her.

“You don’t suppose that this will have anything to do with you, do you? Duke Vision is always saying something silly every now and then. But this will all blow over as usual, yes?”

"Duke Vision is a shining example of everything that is enraging about the unicorn nobility," Prance said with a tired roll of his eyes. "He has little respect or understanding for anypony that isn't unicorn. One of these days, he'll bring a war down upon himself, and quite literally, it will fall down out of the blasted sky. I'm sure of it.”

He again glanced up out of the window.

“Especially if he fancies speaking to pegasi in such a way."

"Prance!" Sonata gasped. "You mustn't say such things. You know the Duchess of Edinbridle is Our Lady's sister. That would be horrible for us if it were to happen!"

"I didn't say I wanted it to. I'm simply saying that—Oy! I told you to finish that stew, didn’t I?” Prance exclaimed as his gaze met with Sonata's forgotten bowl sitting atop the table.

"Oh! I... I'm not hungry, Prance. It's alright. I'll eat it later," she said, continuing to clean. Prance passed her an annoyed glare, rose up, and walked over to force her to her seat.

"No, Sonata. Eat it, now. You haven't eaten enough today, and you're going to make yourself sick. I'm not sleeping until you finish it all."

The look the blue mare gave him was one of utter irritation. After a moment of groaning and whining, she finally leaned forward to stare down into the bowl. Practically plopping her face into the thing, she quickly slurped its contents up in one, huge mouthful. Staring at Prance with cheeks near to bursting, she then gulped it all down.

"There," she stated coldly, holding up her empty dish for him to inspect. "Is this to your liking, Sire? Or shall I lick the bowl clean as well?"

"No, no. That seems satisfactory," Prance retorted, smirking at the hint of vindictiveness that leaked from her words. "You know, you're becoming just as awful as Bea."

The stallion knew he had made a mistake when Sonata's face twisted into a pained grimace, and her bowl went clattering down upon the table.

"Oh, Sonata, I didn't mean..."

Rising up before he could finish, Sonata moved away from the table to go sit on the mounds of cushions that lay upon the large rug in the main room. Collapsing upon them, she buried her face into one particularly large, purple pillow. Prance, feeling quite foolish, moved to her side, and lay down beside her. Resting his head upon hers, he then nudged her with his foreleg.

"Come now, Sonata. You know how things are with Bea. You two just had a small difference of opinion.”

“Small. Yes,” Sonata scoffed, rolling her eyes. Prance decided it best to ignore the sarcasm.

“Once you apologize to each other, everything shall be right as rain. You'll see."

The mare snorted, lifting her head so quickly that it knocked Prance in the jaw, and set him to groaning.

"Apologize? Well, why the dirt should I do something like that for? I meant what it was that I said!" she muttered. Flipping her fringe out of her face, she looked away from the stallion's penetrating gaze. Even still, she could feel his violet eyes piercing into the back of her head.

"Are you certain?" he prodded. It took a moment more for the mare to respond.

"Well... I... I suppose I didn't mean to express it quite so harshly," she murmured, turning her head back around. She was met with a warm smile.

"That seems a good place to start. Try saying that the next time you visit her," Prance gently urged.

"Why would I need to visit Begonia Blossom?" Sonata asked, looking rather perplexed.

"To deliver the apple pie you shall make for her, of course," he retorted, taking a moment to inspect one of his hooves.

"Why would I—" Sonata began again, but quickly stifled herself when her companion gave her an exasperated glare. "Oooh, I see. Perhaps I'll do just that then."

She thought a moment.

"You shall be buying the ingredients, of course?" she asked, sliding the sweetest, widest grin in the stallion's direction. They both burst into giggles.

Sonata found it interesting how much better she felt after talking about all of this out loud. She knew that, without question, it was Prance’s uplifting presence and his lighthearted attitude that had been her motivation to do so. Gazing up at him, she couldn’t help but feel amazed by the fact that, after all of these years and all of his accomplishments, he might still have wanted to associate himself with her. As was to be expected, after he had been knighted, his visits to the Fylleion farmstead became more and more infrequent, and to Sonata’s dismay, she saw less of him each and every month. Yet, even after he had been called away, sometimes for many months at a time, it would seem that he had not forgotten her. Even with such a busy and harrowing life as his, he still managed to find a way to visit, and usually right when she needed to see him most.

Sonata sighed to herself, her smile faltering ever so slightly. If only her parents could be just a little more like him.

“Oh, stop it,” she grumbled under her breath. There she went again, being utterly selfish and ungrateful.

“What did you say?” Prance asked, nudging her in the side.

She didn’t realize he had still been listening. Her head bolted upward. Throwing a wide grin in his direction, she then leapt to her hooves.

“Come with me. I’ve a bit of flour left. Why don’t we figure out what I should do about the two hundred bits whilst I make biscuits?”

She pulled Prance toward the kitchen by the ear.

“N-no, I…” the stallion stuttered as his eyes darted back and forth between Sonata and the main room. “I really should stay put.”

“Oh, come on,” she whined, getting a better hold of him with her teeth. “Thoeth cloudth will thill be there when you geth bath!”

“No, it isn’t the clouds, it’s…” he continued on. His nervous tone of voice made Sonata’s ears stand at attention. She let go of him, and studied his face.

“Not the clouds? What is it then? Are you waiting for something?”

She’d never seen the stallion look as guilty as he did right then.

“I just want to make sure that something will… will find me…” he trailed off, realizing how ridiculous he was sounding.

Gradually, a sly grin spread across the blue mare's lips.

“I see. Is it something from her, perhaps?” she asked. The increased look of anxiety upon Prance’s face told her that, indeed, it was. “Well, that’s perfect, too. We can talk about her until it arrives, although I don't understand why it should have to be delivered at such an hour."

By the time he had finished stuttering in protest to all this, she had already turned, and disappeared through the kitchen door. Popping her head back out, she gave the white stallion a perplexed look.

“What did you say her name was?”

“I didn’t say,” Prance sighed, finally rising up to follow close behind. His gaze lingered out of the front window every step of the way.

“Oh, that’s right,” Sonata mumbled as she disappeared into the pantry. Once again, her head popped out from behind the edge of the doorway. “Wait. Why not?”

Prance could no longer help but crack a smile.

“Because you are terrible with keeping secrets, and absolutely nopony can know about it.”

Sonata frowned, and disappeared back into the pantry, but not before sticking her tongue out in the stallion’s direction.

“That isn’t true… I think,” she whined. “How is she? Have you seen her since your return?"

"Yes," Prance sighed, a dreamy-eyed look washing over him. "She's... She is... perfect."

Sonata grinned knowingly at him as she moved a few small satchels of ingredients toward the worktable.

"By Bullion, Prance. When are you going to ask her to marry you? You're an absolute mess over it," she giggled.

Interestingly enough, Prance's expression hardened into a stern one. He gazed sharply at her, and began to shake his head.

"Oh, no. Oh, no, no. That would be impossible, I’m afraid."

Sonata huffed, dropping a spoon she had lifted between her teeth back into its accompanying bowl. She gave him an annoyed look of her own.

"You always say that! Why not? I want to sing at a wedding!"

"It just... cannot happen," he said, sounding as if he wanted to end the discussion altogether.

Sonata frowned some more, making use of her time by slamming around her cooking supplies, and creating quite an irritating din in the small cookery. After watching Prance sit relatively unfazed by this for about two minutes, she stomped a hoof.

"You act as if love is something to be ashamed of! Why can't you say anything about her? If I were she, I'd be furious that you felt you couldn't talk about me!"

Prance said nothing. Even through all of this, he had managed to keep his composure. Seeing that her attempts to get a rise out of him had not worked, Sonata huffed, and turned back about to her business, raising her nose high into the air.

"It's because you keep mares all over, isn't it? I know you, Prance Lighthoof. Even that pegasus... What was her name? Echo. She caught your eye as well, didn't she?” Sonata shouted. As she continued on, her provincial accent thickened until she was practically spitting angry syllables at him.

“I can tell these things by now, y'know. S’why ye can't say names, isn't it? For fear that they’ll all run into each other whilst samplin’ fried 'taters at mark—"

"How dare you?" Prance said indignantly. He rose to his hooves, and approached the mare until she was forced back. "You apologize to me this instant, Sonata Dusk. I shall have no slander from you!"

"No!" Sonata stated flatly as she began to mix her ingredients together in the bowl. "Every blasted time you visit, you can't stop talking about her, and yet your words are always guarded. It's so silly. I don't want to hear about it anymore if you can't be open about it."

Prance frowned.

"But Sonata, you're my... Who else shall I..."

He trailed off when he realized the blue mare no longer seemed to care about his distress at all. Seeing this, the stallion eventually plopped down onto his haunches in defeat, and rolled his eyes.

"She lives in town," he muttered spitefully.

As if a switch had been flipped, Sonata immediately dropped her mixing spoon into the biscuit batter, and spun around to flash him an ecstatic grin.

"I knew it! Who are her parents? Does she have overly protective brothers or jealous sisters? Don't they like you?" she spouted whilst Prance raised a hoof to rub at his aching temples.

"Sonata..." he groaned. The sound triggered something within the mare's chest just as she was sliding a pan of biscuit dough into the oven. Barely catching some of the fur of her foreleg onto one of the hot griddles, she hissed, and quickly slammed the thing shut. Turning about one last time, her eyes met with Prance's, and, for the first time, she noticed pain and worry therein.

"Prance? Won’t you tell me what is actually the matter? Really," she asked him, quite concerned. "I'm starting to assume that something is ahoof about this mare."

He looked away from her, unable to meet the sincerity in her eyes.

"I... I'm... just worried that perhaps I'm... we're doing something... quite fooli—"

His words were interrupted by a sudden flash of berry red light, and the distinct, echoing sound of unicorn magic. Both earth ponies’ vision was blinded for a moment, and when the light dimmed, laying before Prance’s hooves was a neatly rolled scroll. Strangely enough, it was tied with a simple piece of string instead of sealed with an identifying wax emblem.

“What is…” Sonata began, taking a cautious step toward the rolled piece of paper. She watched as Prance’s eyes went wide. His gaze darted between her and the scroll before he dove for the thing. Ripping the string off, he unfurled the letter right there upon the dusty floor, and buried his nose into it.

As he read it voraciously, to the mare’s dismay, his excited expression slowly began to wilt. Worried creases grew ever deeper around his usually jovial eyes until, finally, he let off a heavy sigh, allowing the scroll to fall back onto the floor. Sonata held her breath at first, too afraid to speak. Slowly, she mustered up the courage to say something.

"Has... has something happened?" she squeaked, watching the stallion’s eyes slowly growing incensed as he thought to himself. “Prance?”

He was up at once, tucking the scroll into his scabbard, and rushing toward the door.

“Where are you going?” Sonata yelled worriedly. Following close behind, she quickly shoved herself between the stallion and the passageway. “Prance, say something!”

“Out of the way!” he yelled, trying to squirm his way around her. Sonata would not be moved.

“No! Tell me what’s—”

He grabbed her by the kerchief around her neck, and yanked her off to the side. Wrenching open the door, and rushing out into the yard, he never expected to be halted at the gate by Sonata grabbing hold of him by the tail. Turning around, he saw her gripping the thing between her teeth. Shifting her body around, the mare slid her entire weight on top of it, and took a seat, forcing Prance to do the same.

“Get off me! I have to leave!” he cried.

“No!” she screamed. “I don’t know what was in that letter, Prance, and I don’t know why you won’t tell me what's happening, but you promised you would stay here! You promised you would stay with me when you returned!"

"I can't, Sonata!" the stallion protested, digging his hooves into the dirt.

"But you must! I’m in trouble, Prance! Don’t you care at all? What about the... the two hundred bits?”

Even the distraught look in her eyes was not enough to keep the stallion's attention. He tried to squirm away from her, his neck straining forward in the direction of the gate.

“You shall have it! I shall give you all of the bits in the kingdom if you’d just move yer blasted rump off me, mare! Stop being so selfish!"

Her breath caught in her throat.

"S-selfish?" she squeaked.

She swore the sting she now felt in her heart was an actual wound.

“Why are you talking to me this way? Have you finally grown tired of me as well?” she whimpered, looking at the ground. For a moment, she considered that this might actually have been the case. Fighting back the sense of terror that now threatened to overwhelm her, she raised her head. “I… I don’t want your money. I just need—”

Something struck her in the thigh. Prance had used his hind hoof to shove her to the ground. In her disoriented state, Sonata realized she could taste dirt. It took a moment for her to catch her wits about her, but when her vision finally cleared, she saw that the white stallion had already leapt over the fence.

“Wait!” she cried as she headed toward the gate, and watched him race down the path. Her eyes began to leak tears. “Fine! Go on then! Leave! Just like everypony else! I can become accustomed to it, Prance! I can get used to anything, you know!"

She ran all the way to the top of the hill, knowing that there was no way to catch him now. Plopping down in the middle of the road, she watched until he disappeared over another mound in the distance.

The sky over the countryside had been cleared by this time, and the stars shone brightly. Still, Sonata swore that coming from somewhere far away to the north, she could now make out the faint sound of thunder.
___

She awoke the next morning at the cockerel’s crow. Jolting up in bed with a snort, she was disturbed to find that her entire pillow had fused itself to the side of her face with dry tears and something else sticky. In addition to this, beside her sat an emptied tray once filled with biscuits. A toppled pot of jam lay nearby.

“Oh dirt,” she groaned, peeling the pillow off of her cheek, and then dusting the crumbs off of her face. Moving one hoof upward to glide it across her fringe, she was mortified to find that the forelock had managed to freeze itself in the form of a pillar pointed toward the ceiling. Upon touching it, and then bringing her hoof down to her nose, she smelled, again, the strong essence of peach jam. Sighing, she shook her head. Surely, her day could not begin this way.

Even after all of these years, Sonata still found it amazing what a splash of water could do for the soul. After a quick bath down at the well, and a song from her beloved birds, the blue mare's spirits had been lifted significantly. Dawning her large straw hat and white robe, still torn on the hems from the day before, she then set out at once for her foray in town.

Her performances, once a daily routine, had now dwindled down to just one, weekly occurrence. With all the work to be done on the farm, it was inevitable that something would eventually have to give way. As cherished as this minute aspect of her life was, it seemed obvious that it would have to be the first thing to go.

Following her own good advice, Sonata had taken it in stride. Like water, she accepted, adjusted, and adapted. She prided herself on being able to do this whenever it was necessary, even in instances as distressing as having to say farewell to whatever and whomever she cared for very much.

A frown escaped her as Prance immediately came to mind. She tried in vain to forget the events from the evening before.

Rarely had she ever seen the stallion act in such desperation as he had last night, and the thought of what might have been in that letter still worried her. Pondering to herself as she began to hum—something she always did whilst pondering—it occurred to her that unicorn magic was a very expensive form of post. Whether the letter was simply sent by enchanted means, or was a message from a unicorn itself, one thing was for certain: Whoever Prance had received the correspondence from was well-to-do. She remembered how he had pounced upon the scroll frantically after it had appeared. Was it possible that it was a letter from his beloved?

Sonata gasped to herself. How deliciously scandalous this mystery now seemed. Still, she acknowledged that she was quite cross with the stallion after he had left her so abruptly, and after he had called her... called her...

"Selfish," she hissed to herself.

Even now she felt the tears threatening to burst forth. How could he, of all ponies, call her such a thing? As if she didn't already know she was a rather ungrateful pony. The last thing she needed was to hear it from him, and he knew that. Prance was supposed to be her refuge, the one pony she didn't have to be fearful of sharing anything with. Yet, it seemed that last night he hadn't even cared about their history together, or all of the ways he had encouraged her to trust him over the years, all of the ways he knew certain places and things, certain words and mannerisms could so easily leave their scars upon her.

Sonata shook her head. And even considering all this, she still missed him.

A great part of her had hoped that he would have returned by daybreak, but nopony had been waiting in the yard when she peeked through the window. Nopony knocked upon the door when she was cleaning her biscuit tray and jam pot in the kitchen. Nopony ran into her upon the road this morning until, at last, she had finally rounded the bend where the town of Greenwaters came into view.

We'll see how many dances and biscuits he gets the next time I see him.

She frowned to herself. When would she see Prance next? She hoped that it wouldn't be a whole year until she again reunited with her friend, despite how angry she happened to be at the moment.

Coming to the convergence of the roads that led into town, Sonata was surprised to suddenly spot Marmalade, a light pink mare with a cream-colored mane, making her way toward the opened gates. By her side, pulling along a large cart filled to the brim with jams and preserves of all sorts, was her brother, Rhubarb.

"Marmy!" Sonata cried, waving to the mare. She waited for them at the fork in the road, and gave Marmy a great hug when they finally caught up.

"Back so soon?" Sonata asked, looking her over. "I didn't expect to see you here for another month, at least!"

"Well, then that just tells me you haven't heard the word on the winds, have you, Blue?" Marmalade muttered, her eyes shifting about mischievously. "A mare's got to have some stability in these troubled times, doesn't she?"

"Oh, dear. More bad news from the House of Vision, I take it?" Sonata asked, tugging at the edge of her hat.

Marmalade gave a squeaky giggle. Her eyes still shifted about as she saddled up next to Sonata, and bid her to accompany her through the town gates.

"Is there! Come along, Blue. There is much to discuss!"

If there was ever a gossipy pony, Marmalade was it. It didn't matter whether the word on the street said that a war was coming down upon a noble house of old, or that the price of tomatoes had dropped by half a bit; Marmalade always proved to be ever abreast of the most current information. This, as one might imagine, proved to be an annoying trait to most. However, Sonata, being rather accepting and all too self-deprecating to ever consider spurning anypony who had shown her kindness, never seemed to mind. And it wasn't as if the chatty mare's information was wrong. As a matter of fact, it often wasn't, and even though Marmalade did inspire aggravation in those she would habitually pester, very few could say that they weren't grateful for the information later on.

As Sonata walked alongside the babbling mare, she couldn't help but allow her gaze to wander about the bustling town around her. Gradually, she realized that something had changed about the place. It took a moment, but soon it dawned upon her that everywhere she looked, upon almost every public surface, was plastered a very particular, tan-colored poster dawning the image of a rather grim-faced earth stallion. Chance chose that moment to have one of the sheets hit her straight in the face as it floated upon the wind. Placing her basket down, and filling it with a few small stones, Sonata moved the thing to be carried upon her back. Then, picking up the dirty piece of paper, she fumbling with and folded the thing in her mouth, attempting to angle it so that she might better decipher its text.

The lifeblood of the kingdom shall stop up its flow to the cruel and corrupt, the thing said.

"Wrt doeth it mean?" she asked Marmalade who had leaned over to take a look.

"I was wondering if those had reached Greenwaters as yet,” the pink mare said. “They're all over the kingdom now."

Sonata watched Marmalade as, gradually, her gaze was drawn away to something further on down the street. Hearing a large ruckus and the clanking of metal coming from her left, Sonata's head snapped around just in time to catch sight of two, large guards shouting and shoving along a brown, ragged-looking earth stallion. Despite his being pushed to the ground every other second, the stallion would relentlessly pop back up to his hooves, and shout something until, again, he was silenced.

"Goodness," Sonata murmured. "What has he done?"

The trio strained their ears to listen.

"...and is it not we who feed all three races? Is life on the land and in the sky not supported entirely upon our tired backs? And what do we have to show for it? Endless toil, worry, weakness, and the spite of the old lords of the land who grow fatter by the day on the fruits of our labor! It is time we demand what is ours! And today we must demand liberation from under the suffocating hoof of the unicorn peerage!"

Finishing his words, the stallion was pushed forward quite roughly once again. This time, when he hit the ground, a spray of the same brown posters that were plastered about town came spilling from the inside of his worn and dirty shirt. The pair of guards lunged forward immediately, one to snatch up the posts, the other to hoof the wild-eyed stallion across the mouth, shutting him up for good. Both Marmalade and Sonata winced at the sight.

"If you get caught posting those it's the jailhouse for you, I'm afraid," Marmalade whispered in Sonata's ear as they both watched the poor, bedraggled creature being lifted, and carried away by the pair of guards.

"'Course, nopony knows what happens to the ones that go about preachin' like that. They're toted off to the nearest lord, and not a soul ever hears from 'em again. That's for certain."

Sonata stared at her friend in shock.

"You mean... the Earl?" the blue mare breathed after tucking the poster haphazardly under the edge of her hat. Marmalade nodded.

"Supposedly, there's a small faction of vassals, all earth ponies gone mad, them!" Rhubarb cut in. "Thinking that they've somehow got the wits to govern themselves! Reckoning that they bloody well don't need the nobility!"

He motioned toward the poster and the image of the grim earth stallion printed upon it.

"That's their leader, there. Whatsisname again? Root... Root-something or other. I used to see him all of the time at our marketplace. One day he just up and disappeared, he did. I suppose now we know what the fool's been up to."

"But there are many well-to-do earth ponies," Sonata murmured, feeling confused. "A few of them are even nobles in the unicorn court. What about Pr—... Sir Lighthoof?"

Marmalade snorted.

"Knights and Baronets don't count. Can't pass those on to your foals, can you, Blue? You just watch. A generation from now, and those Lighthoofs will still be marching off as dutifully as ever to fight in unicorn battles."

Sonata frowned at the other mare's rather rude words.

"Well, then... W-what about the former Countess? She doesn't suffer."

Marmalade sighed, and shrugged to herself.

"I don't know, Bluey. I don't know." She seemed to think to herself for a moment. "That former Countess of yours—Lady Ginger, yes? She is quite the skittish type, though, isn't she? A few of the other earth pony nobles I've seen are almost exactly like that, some more than others. I imagine it can't be easy living in the middle like that, having to go along with most everything the unicorn court decides with barely any other race's input. Couldn't be easy seeing most of your own kind live to serve you. I'd wager those few earth nobles are a rather lonely lot, wouldn't you, Blue?"

A thoughtful silence ensued between them, so profound and thick that it drowned out the din of the town. Marmalade, wearing a small, melancholy smile, sighed.

"You can practically hear the thunder on every side of you in Edinbridle now. Debon Air's ponies moved into our airspace just this morning, you know. Old Vizzy's sure to have one hay of a time with that mess," Marmalade chuckled. The unsure twinge in the sound made Sonata's ears perk up. "I'm telling you, Bluey, something's coming. Something big!"

As if having been summoned by the pink mare's words, a rather large, armored stallion suddenly appeared in Sonata's line of sight. The blue mare's eyes went wide as he began to approach her at a brisk pace. She began to stutter as he loomed over her, reached forward, and snatched the paper from her hat. Tearing the thing up, he then moved toward a nearby wall that was plastered with them. The trio remained silent until they had continued on a fair distance. Glancing toward Sonata, Marmalade gave her a look of concern.

"You alright, Blue? I swear those brutes have absolutely no manners whatsoever! Is that how they treat a pair of ladies?" Having said this, the mare then turned her head away, hacked in a rather loud fashion, and spat disdainfully into the cobblestone. "No decorum at all!"

Looking about at all the excited, whispering ponies littering the streets, and dipping in and out of various buildings, the sight proved to be far too much for Sonata. It was confusing enough to have to manage a farm all on her own whilst considering the whims of her Lord—and what's more, her parents. How could she possibly be expected to now fit the worries of the entire kingdom into the equation as well?

Something seemed to give way in the blue mare's mind. Sighing loudly, and shaking her head free of thoughts that would only work to worry her even more, she turned to Marmalade.

"You're smart to try to sell extra, Marmy. Wish I was in a similar position. I'm afraid I haven't been as fortunate."

"Money troubles, ey?" the pink mare said, absent-mindedly kicking a pebble out of her way. "Don't I know about those. Seems there's nothing but those back at home nowadays. Wish I could help you, Blue. Really, I do, but news about jobs moves so quickly. By the time I hear anything, it's already gone."

Things were quiet between them for a moment until they managed to glance back toward Rhubarb. Noticing their gazes upon him, he rolled his eyes—more so at his sister than Sonata.

"Pub's always hiring maids. You should go there if you're in need of quick extras. Won't be much, mind you, but it can fill your stomach if that's what you're thinking. And you can work whenever you please."

"The pub?" Marmalade groaned, glaring at her brother with disgust. "Well, if I'd known that scummy place was a viable option, I would've told her that myself!"

Sonata seemed disappointed to hear that the job couldn’t offer her the amount of bits that she required to make up the difference of what she owed. Still, Rhubarb was just trying to be helpful.

"The pub..." Sonata murmured to herself.

Truth be told, she had never set hoof into a pub before, but that didn't mean she hadn't heard the stories that came out of them. Some of the tales were off-putting, sure. But others, those tales of friends made and fortunes won, were quite inspiring. All-in-all, it seemed to be a place of possibility, and if she were remembering correctly the stories about some of the mares that worked in places like these, it might also be possible for Sonata to find a different way to earn what she needed as well.

Her smile had grown bright. Shaking herself out of her thoughts, Sonata passed a grateful grin in Rhubarb's direction. She then leaned forward to give him a kiss upon the cheek, almost making him trip over his own forelegs.

“Thank you, Rhubarb! Thank you, Marm! Thank you so much!” she yelled before picking the basket up again, and racing away.

“Oy, you be careful around that place, Bluey! Many a scoundrel’s passed through it!” the light pink mare yelled before Sonata disappeared around the corner.
__

“Rozay’s Round,” she mumbled to herself, reading the large, aged sign out front of the local pub. As she approached it, she could hear very clearly the loud sounds of inebriated ponies shouting and jeering coming from inside. Feeling a little apprehensive at the notion of stepping through the darkened doorway into the dim that lay beyond, Sonata hesitated for just a moment. Gulping down her fears, she took a deep breath, and moved to enter.

Walking in the other direction, stumbling a bit more than he was trotting, came a white stallion. Exiting through the pub’s doorway just as Sonata was entering, his muzzle rammed into hers, and they both crumpled to the ground.

“Oy! Why don’t you watch where you’re—” the stallion began before his violet eyes opened, and recognized who it was he had run into. When Sonata’s gaze trained upon Prance, it immediately went livid. The sight of him looking as if he was considering crawling back into the dark recesses of Rozay’s didn't help her mood.

“You… absolute… knave!” she cried, dashing her basket against his head, sending pebbles flying everywhere. “Is this the place that I find you after you leave me so unceremoniously? And having kicked me into the dirt no less!”

“Sonata, listen to me,” Prance began after having rubbed the now sore spot atop his crown. The two of them rose to dust themselves off as he spoke. "You must trust that I would never leave you unless it was for good reason. I was going to return! I just... needed to see—"

"Your glorious, wondrous, one-of-a-kind mare. I know, I know. Out of my way, then, please," Sonata said with a roll of her eyes, almost successfully shoving Prance to the side with her strong hindlegs. The stallion, now looking quite curious, jumped back into her path.

"Just a moment. What business should a mare like you have at Rozay's?"

Sonata studied him before flipping the fringe out of her eyes.

"Well, Sir, if it were any of your business—which it most certainly is not—then I would have you know that I am here for work. Turns out I don't need your silly advice on the matter after all. I've figured things out on my own."

The blue mare straightened out her robes.

"Now kindly get out of my way!"

Prance rushed to block her once again. He stifled a laugh that threatened to escape him when he saw Sonata giving him an incredulous look.

"Sonata, you can't work here," he stated as if the idea were ludicrous. "Those maids don't make enough to pay off the amount you owe."

He seemed to think to himself for a moment, and then shrugged.

"Well, not the ones who only work out front."

"I knew it! It's in the back you say?" she asked, motioning to walk around the side of the building.

Prance, now regretting opening his big mouth, shook his head, and flailed his forelegs as he shifted into her way once more.

"No, no, no, Sonata! You don't understand! Those mares are—"

"Are earning what I need, according to you. And I intend to get my part of it!" she exclaimed.

She watched as the stallion's expression went absolutely grim. It seemed as if he weren't studying her so much as he was staring ahead into the future at the possibility of what could come to pass. A positively nauseous look befell him, and his head shook slowly. It was as if he were trying to rid himself of a horrid vision.

"Sonata?" he gulped, trying to keep down whatever it was he had drunk inside of the pub. "We're leaving. Now."

With that, he casually walked around to her rear, clasped her tail between his teeth, and began to tug.

"What are you doing? Let go of me this instant, you... you..." Sonata gasped as the tug turned into a real show of force, and her hind legs gave way. Prance continued on, wordlessly pulling her down the street as if it were the most reasonable thing a pony could do to another. All the while, Sonata scrambled and struggled to break free as she continuously swung her basket at the stallion's head. It was a strange sight, indeed, and anypony who happened to get too close or question Prance’s motive was quickly directed toward the emblem upon the hilt that the stallion wore around his barrel. The insignia of a royally ordained knight would immediately force any bold bystander into a more than willing retreat.

Once they were well enough removed from Rozay’s, Prance let her go. At once, Sonata stood up tall, and turned to face him. Tears threatened to run from her enraged eyes. She slapped him hard across the muzzle. Surprisingly, even when the stallion's expression fell slack with shock, she felt no vindication, no peace at all.

"Sonata," Prance breathed after a beat," you do not understand what it is you are doing."

"You think of me as some child as well, don't you? Some eternal filly to be forever watched."

"You asked for my help, and I am trying to help you," the stallion continued.

"Need I remind you that you are the one that left me?" Sonata screamed. She then turned tail, and began to march in the direction of the marketplace, trying her best to ignore the sound of Prance following her close behind. It wasn't working. His every, nagging word still pierced into her.

"Oh, by Bullion, you mares will be the death of me. Do you know what that place is? Do you know what some of those mares do to—"

“And, of course, no honorable pony would ever have any business there at all, would they, Sir Lighthoof?” she retorted, surprising even herself. Prance actually seemed to be thrown for a loop by this quip as well.

No longer willing to let the matter go, she spun around, and bounded toward him. Shoving him backward, she forced him into a nearby alley, in a space just beyond daylight's reach. Dropping her basket, she gave him a look he rarely ever saw. It was as if complete awareness had suddenly decided to encapsulate her. Her gaze was sharp and quite serious. She brought her face very close to his.

"What new thing do you suppose you are about to teach me, Prance Lighthoof?" she hissed at him, now reveling in the truly dumbfounded expression upon his face. She waited for him to reply. He did not. In a way, it wasn't necessary. Their gazes inferred that which was not being said.

"I know what it is you are going to tell me about those mares. In fact, I was hoping it was the case," Sonata finally murmured, taking a step back.

Now, Prance just looked sick. Pushing the hat back upon her head, the blue mare huffed, and rolled her eyes.

"I'm a singer, you silly stallion. Nothing rouses the spirit like good music, now does it? Surely, a place like that would have hired a voice like mine, and I would have made quite a bit of money for it. But you had never even stopped to consider that, had you?"

She slowly shook her head at him, clicking her tongue against her teeth.

"Of course not. All you could suppose was that I was so childish that I needed to be shielded from something. And so what if this is the way I have chosen to go about solving my problem? What power do you have to stop me?"

She turned about to fetch her basket, and leave. As she stepped forward toward the lip of the alleyway, she felt a hoof hook across her foreleg. Yelping in surprise, having nearly tripped over, her eyes darted towards Prance again. The look on his face resembled that of a spoiled colt who had just been told ‘no’ for the very first time. She watched as he raised his nose to the air in a show of authority.

“I shall not allow you to return to that place,” he murmured, furrowing his brow.

Sonata’s first inclination was to kowtow, to nod her head obediently as she always seemed to do whenever her more authoritative companions decided to throw their brashness around. But then she felt something within her shift and harden with spite. Shaking her head free of her instinct to yield, instead of wilting in the stallion’s grip, she jerked her foreleg forward, and drew him in. Something different was in her eyes now. They glimmered with a mischievous defiance.

"Be careful, Lighthoof," she warned him, her tinny voice curling in a most beguiling way.

Prance felt his ears twitch at the unfamiliar tone coming from the mare. His eyes popped open wide. She stifled a smile, noticing his reaction, and leaned in so that their noses nearly touched.

“I could have had everything of yours in a heartbeat if I so wished. Just because I’ve been too kind to ever allow you to know this doesn’t mean you can treat me the way you do.”

Holding her breath and his gaze, she waited. Never before had she ever acted so boldly toward anypony. However, at the moment, she had had quite enough of being bossed about by those who claimed they had her best interest at heart when they really cared much more about their own desires. It was just lucky for her that Prance never glanced down to catch sight of the way her hooves were now shaking. Instead, he held her gaze, and in those violet eyes, Sonata could see new understanding taking shape. It was as if Prance had seen her for who she was for the very first time.

Waiting until she could hear him gulp, Sonata released the breath she had been holding, and then backed away. She scanned him over disdainfully.

"I needed a friend out of you, Prance. Not a father."

The faintest trace of sadness flashed across her face before she decisively turned to leave, tipping her hat back straight atop her head.

"The next time you decide to pay a visit, oblige me, please, and let it be for my company, not my welfare. Your pleasure, not your obligation. And do try to restrain yourself when I again see you at that pub."

Tossing a few nearby pebbles into her basket for weight, she swung it around to sit it upon her back. Then, without a word, she walked away, leaving Prance in the dimness to ponder to himself.

The stallion gawked, sinking down to his haunches in order to think. Closing his salt and cider-glossed eyes, he ruminated upon what a mess he'd just made of things, and how he might be able to fix it all.

Singing? In a place like that? Of course he dared not say it to her now, not after her uncharacteristic show of bravado, but it still didn’t mean that he was particularly fond of the idea. Yet, the mare still seemed to be on the right track. Her voice would surely prove to be her salvation. If only there were a different venue for it.

Prance suddenly lifted his head, a thought having occurred to him.

“Lighthoof, you idiot,” he murmured to himself, then quickly popping up to run after Sonata.

He found her walking up the road, very near to the market. When he did, he slowed down to trot by her side.

"I can help! I have an idea!"

"Now, he can help me! Oh, Spirits bless his bleedin’ heart. Are you certain that you can fit me into your busy schedule, Sire? Wouldn't want to keep you from all of your far more important business," the blue mare spat, turning a corner into the market.

Seeing that Sonata remained unmoved by his statement, he huffed, and managed to block her way just as she had pushed through a throng of eager spectators that had gathered around the pile of boxes she used for her makeshift stage.

"Sonata, you shall listen to me. Lady Goldenstalks—"

Oh, no. Not her again. Smirking, the blue mare shoved him off to the side as hard as she could. Stepping up onto the boxes, she dropped the basket she had been balancing upon her back down next to her.

"No thanks, Sir Lighthoof. I've all the ears, eyes, and voices that I require right here. Isn't that right, ladies and gents?" she yelled, delighting in the uproarious applause she received right after. The sound filled her with mirth.

"Been having a bit of a hard time as of late!" she yelled. The crowd promptly replied with a forced lament. "But you know how these things go when you're dealing with stallions."

Laughter spread throughout the square as Sonata began to feel the space between her chest and neck beginning to itch. Her mind opened up as a vengeful notion dawned upon her.

"How about a little song about all of those wonderfully horrid brutes? What say you?" she called out to the crowd, even though her eyes were trained intently upon Prance. Surprisingly—or perhaps not at all—the mass roared again, longing for Sonata's song regardless of what it may have been. Prance, not bothering to look around, shook his head, and rolled his eyes.

"Sonata, don't you think you're being a bit childish—"

Ohhh, Barnie brought me flowers one fine day at half past one...

"Sonata..." Prance groaned, crossing his forelegs. His ears twitched at the sharpness of her forced melody.

'Til I looked upon my yard 'round two, and found my roses gone!
And Tin Snips would shower me with the most delightful kisses...

Sonata watched as Prance, looking rather fed up—and a bit dazed—intently turned, and made his way out of the crowd. The last she saw of him, he was walking in the direction of a nearby messenger's office.

But alas a drought befell me once I learned about his Misses!

Things went as well as could be expected for a while, of course. The crowd cheered, and eagerly began to dance after tossing gold bit after gold bit into Sonata's waiting basket. Yet, as the lively, blue mare looked out upon them all, she could feel that something was different. Something had changed. Usually, all the masses would do was sing and dance. That was to be expected, but as she gazed at them now, she watched as gradually their energy began to warp, to grow. It became tumultuous. Their spinning became chaotic though smiles remained upon their faces. They chanted her tune to each other in shouts and jeers. In the rear of the gathering, she could make out a stallion and mare beginning to prod at each other with their hooves. Soon, they were yelling at each other—and the words they were using certainly didn't sound like song lyrics.

Such a thing had never happened before. Her music brought nothing but joy to those who heard it. Thinking this a fluke, the blue mare continued on. Outright alarm didn't set in until arguments began to break out all over the crowd.

"W-what in the name of..." she mumbled to herself, breaking her song. Looking around, she was shocked to find that the mass had not seemed to notice. Instead it began to seethe and writhe. One mare pushed a stallion she had been previously dancing with, and he shoved her back.

"Now, now!" Sonata tried to yell over the ruckus to no avail. "Surely, there doesn't seem to be any need for—"

Another stallion stepped in to defend the mare, and it didn't take long for a fight to break out, then another, and another. Squealing with fright as the rumbling crowd nearly turned her stack of boxes right over, Sonata scanned the marketplace for any possible source of help. To both her utmost dismay and joy, not a moment later did she spy Prance racing back into the marketplace with gusto. He was clutching a scroll in his grinning mouth when his eyes caught sight of the trouble that she was in. There was a moment of hesitation.

“Help me!” Sonata finally screamed at the top of her lungs. In a flash, the stallion had put the scroll away, and traversed the square toward her.

"I don’t know what happened! They just—" she shouted, watching him force his way through the crowd.

“It doesn’t matter! Just jump!” he called back.

Without wasting another moment, he held his forelegs out for her. Thinking quickly, she snatched up her basket, and as the boxes finally gave way, she jumped, and landed on the stallion. They both fell to the cobblestones. Unfortunately, as she fell, her basket tumbled to the ground, spilling its contents everywhere. There was a beat as both Sonata and Prance stared at the immense collection of gold that she had managed to amass. The few in the crowd who had also caught sight of the spilled coins immediately pounced upon them. It didn’t take long for every last piece to be snatched up.

"Give it! Give it back!" Sonata screamed in utter desperation as Prance dragged her away from the roiling crowd. When they had reached a safe enough distance, he pulled her up onto her hooves, and held her so she faced him. She was still screaming wildly, trying to somehow force her way back to the mob.

"Sonata, it's alright!" he yelled. His revelatory expression had returned as he quickly leaned over to pull the scroll he had been carrying from his belt.

Still, all she could do was shout as she now watched town guards appearing from around the street corners, attempting to break the crowd apart.

"What will I do, Prance? That was fifty bits in that basket! I won’t even make a hundred bits now! And how shall I eat?"

He shook her—hard.

“Listen!”

Stunned into paying him the attention he demanded, Sonata found his expression nearly gladdened. His eyes were wide and glimmering. He shoved the scroll toward her, and Sonata took it, trying her best to care about whatever it is the stallion had deemed more important than her lost gold bits and wrecked stage. Plopping the paper down onto the ground, she unfurled it, and quickly began to read.

By order of the Right Honourable Countess of Greenwaters, Trotchester, and all the territories of ancient Sardhoof, it is hereby decreed that Miss Sonata Dusk, daughter of Our Lord’s faithful vassal, Fylleion, and friend to the House of Goldenstalks, be permitted usage of the Glow Hall as it so pleases her from this day forth until a time of her choosing, so long as it neither interfere nor interrupt any affair of His Majesty or of his Royal Court. So is it written; so shall it be done.

There was no signature, simply the very distinct wax seal depiction of the Goldenstalks coat of arms. Below it, in smaller depiction, the Glow coat of arms was imprinted to distinguish that the letter had come straight from the Lady Goldenstalks herself, the most beautiful voice in the entire kingdom, the one for whom the very same grand hall had been built and named.

Sonata could do nothing but gawk at the words. She read them over and over, almost trying to make them say something more realistic and less perfect than what they actually did. After she realized that what it said was true, her gaze slowly slid upward to meet Prance’s.

“H… how the dirt did—”

Prance, grinning smugly to himself, reached out with a hoof, and pressed it against her lips.

"You can save your voice for opening night, thank you very much."

Author's Note

So, this fic has officially been featured on EQD, and I shall be squeeing to myself all week. :yay:

In addition to this... Anyone wanna win some free art drawn by me? Check out my blog post for details on the contest I'm holding in celebration of reaching 50 followers. :pinkiehappy:

Here ya go

... Also, there's a picture of Cookie Dough on there too, because I know one of you lovelies requested it.

Duets, Dissonance, and...

Something about the fear of the unknown.

Something about an act of faith.

A prayer for blessings and good luck.

A quick supplication to the two miracle sisters.

And a thank you thrown in somewhere for good measure.

Repeat.

This was the eighth time Sonata had sung the enrapturing chant. Slow and purposeful, she still wasn't sure what part of her mind the words had spawned from, or what they really even meant. But at least it helped her to feel a bit better.

This had all seemed like a very good idea when Prance had first thrown the Countess' official notice in her face. Now, staring out at a room packed full of commoners, artisans, socialites, and nobles alike, Sonata found it quite difficult to keep in mind why she was planning to put herself through such torment in the first place.

Her level of enthusiasm had been unmatched when they had first walked into the grand hall a week ago. It was beautiful, built open and spacious, perfect for a singer's voice to carry, as would be expected. There were two levels worth of audience area: the floor space, a standing pit which was reserved for the commoners like her, and the balconies and boxes, reserved strictly for the aristocracy. It hadn't ever occurred to her at any point before that evening, but in that heated and pregnant moment directly before she went on stage, she found herself nothing short of terrified by the notion of being ogled and judged by the town's elite.

Many had attended. Filling seats had not been a problem. It seemed that, somehow, everypony already knew who she was. The commoners knew her from her exhibitions in the marketplace of course, and she could only assume that the nobles currently present knew of her by way of the House of Goldenstalks. All that had been necessary was to pay a few colts half a bit to go around town announcing her intended performance date, and they all flocked right in when the time finally came.

Still, the sight of the crowd unnerved her, and she wondered in that moment how a pony as seemingly astute as Prance could so often act with so little regard for her own self consciousness. She tried to tell herself that it was for her own good, and had always been. After all, she would have never been familiarized with the Goldenstalks if it had not been for him.

“Just like when we were children,” she muttered to herself on the odd chance that lashing out at somepony in spite might have proven to be the thing that calmed her nerves. It wasn't.

Speaking of Prance, the stallion was currently nowhere to be found. As soon as they had arrived that evening, a few hours prior to her performance, he had made a hasty escape to somewhere unknown. It baffled Sonata as to why he would do such a thing, but every time she would feel her annoyance by her friend's behavior flare, she'd subsequently remember how odd he had been acting as of late.

Ever since the evening he had run out on her, the stallion's behaviour had become increasingly erratic, his mannerisms quite grim. Nowadays, his brow usually remained furrowed, even when he and Sonata were making light conversation. He would often disappear from the cottage late at night when he thought Sonata was asleep, and if he did not return home inebriated, he would usually return furious. Sonata could never admit it to him, much less herself, but she dreaded Prance during those moments. She dared not speak to him or be caught in his presence for fear that he might lash out at her in frustration or anger.

The culprits were the scrolls. She had a nagging sense that this was the case. Ever since that first night, they had not stopped appearing, neatly rolled pieces of finely pressed paper, tied with a simple string, and appearing in a flash of berry red magic that smelled of roses. It had only been a week, and Sonata was certain that the stallion had already received at least thirty. The way they made the room perpetually smell of sweet musk after they had appeared made it easy to conclude that they had come from a lady, probably his mysterious, nameless mare. She wondered if everything was alright between them. Perhaps they were going through a rather nasty lover's quarrel.

Then again, perhaps it was herself that proved to be the problem as she was much more inclined to believe. Perhaps the scolding she had given Prance the week prior had inadvertently made him feel guilty for ever having left her. Maybe she was now standing in the way of Prance and his dreams, whether it be in some far off land, or in the warm embrace of his lover. Maybe she was being utterly selfish by asking him to stay with her.

Sonata frowned, and shook her head free of these thoughts. Now was not the time for them, and all they were managing to do was make her more anxious. Looking out at the crowd through the stage's enormous red curtain, she could see that the parterre had already been filled by those familiar faces from the marketplace. Sliding her gaze upward, to her dismay, she could also see that the balcony seats had also almost been completely filled by dour-faced nobles—all except for one, glaringly empty space. That space was reserved for the guest of honor who had yet to arrive, Sonata's unexpected patron, Lady Goldenstalks. She could imagine the Countess would be late this evening, what with all of the far more important issues taking place in the kingdom at the moment.

The rumors of conflict to the North were no longer just rumors. Debon Air's pegasi, having blocked off Edinbridle's sunlight all week, had finally incurred the wrath of Duke Vision in kind. It didn't take long for a spat to transform into a series of armed clashes between local unicorn and invading pegasus forces. Meanwhile, more and more earth ponies of Vision's realm, stuck suffering in between the two powers, had become increasingly drawn into the hushed world of the earth pony rebels who dared defy the unicorn monarchy.

Sonata found it interesting how Lord Goldenstalks had not yet sent any reinforcements to aid Vision. But then she thought on Vision's horrid disdain for non-unicorns, and the Earl's actions seemed to make a bit more sense. With the knowledge that Lord Goldenstalks' mother was an earth pony, Sonata could dare to conclude that perhaps he might have wanted to see Duke Vision fall, even if his wife, Lady Violet Vision, was Lady Adagio's sister.

Bringing her mind back to matters at hoof, Sonata took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and for the ninth time, sang her chant. Immediately, her nerves were calmed. The slowly, curling melody proved heady. It wrapped itself around her brain, and filled its every corner, leaving very little room for anxiousness. Lost in her own world, Sonata never noticed the light hoofsteps resounding from behind her. A smile threatened to escape her until, suddenly, she heard a second voice break through her solitary reverie with a gorgeous, harmonizing hum.

Her heart skipped a beat. That voice was familiar. No, not just familiar—famous. Her head snapped around as she hoped beyond hope that her eyes would not see who she knew was the owner of those distinctly husky vocals. To her complete dismay, they did. Approaching to stand before her was Lady Adagio herself.

Instantly, Sonata's mind drew a blank save for the sound of her own internal screaming. Her body instinctively curled into a low, trembling bow. She watched as two pristinely manicured hooves came to a stop directly in front of her nose.

“M-my Lady,” Sonata gasped, gulping down the lump that had risen into her throat. She remained silent, not quite sure of what to say next. Considering the unpredictability of the Countess' mood, it didn't seem too bad of a decision to make.

"That is a beautiful tune you were singing," the Countess confessed, slightly amused. "Where did you learn such a lovely thing?"

Sonata fought down the urge to reply with a scream, and instead took a deep breath.

"I-I thought of it myself, My Lady."

"I see," the silken voice came again, now sounding intrigued. "And is this so for all of your tunes?"

"Yes, My Lady. I only sing what comes to me," Sonata replied. She realized that her responses were rather short and concise. It seemed to make sense that she could not incur any inadvertent wrath from the Countess as long as she didn't stray far from the path that the Lady's questions were carving.

"What comes to you..." Lady Goldenstalks murmured thoughtfully.

There was a drawn out silence during which Sonata could only think to nod her head. After a moment, she watched as the two pristine front hooves took a small step backward to allow her some room.

"Rise," ordered the Countess. Before the entire word had even left her lovely lips, Sonata was already up. The Lady's regal eyes studied her thoroughly. So much so that Sonata felt compelled to look away.

"I must apologize for my shortness with you when last we... met," the lovely unicorn declared, much to Sonata's shock. "I'm afraid I had not been feeling very well that morning."

"M-my Lady," Sonata stammered, her face instantly going red. "There is no need at all to apologize to the likes of me. You've already helped me far too—"

"Your financial troubles are the least of my concerns. That is not why I did this," the Lady interrupted.

Both Sonata's and the Countess' lips drew in tight. Gazing at her, Sonata could sense that the unicorn had said something she had not meant to.

Appearing to catch herself rather quickly, the Countess raised her head, cleared her throat, and rung the sudden tightness out of her shoulders.

"I, like my husband's father, am a lover of beautiful music. You, Miss Dusk, are one I have deemed to be exceptional at making it, more so than anypony else I have ever heard. This performance, as far as I'm concerned, is long overdue and much deserved. It is here at Glow Hall that your voice shall e'er find a home, and it is here that I should hope you would stay so that I might be able to watch you evolve... so to speak."

There was something intriguing about the way she said these words though Sonata could not put her hoof on what. It was almost as if there were a deeper meaning to them, something that the Countess was not telling her. Still, in her currently flustered state, she could manage to do nothing more than bow in reverence.

"I'm sure I do not know what to say after receiving such a compliment from the greatest voice the kingdom has ever known. My Lady, you do me too much honor. How could I ever repay—"

"Sing beautifully. That is all," the Countess chirped. When Sonata rose one last time, she was met with the slightest of smiles gracing the unicorn's face. "And I have absolutely no doubt that you shall."

With that, the Lady tipped her head to the side, and allowed her body to turn in the same direction. With one graceful twirl, she spun about to depart, leaving Sonata standing alone and awestruck behind the towering, red curtain.

Soon after the Lady had gone up to take her seat in the center of the balcony, the lamps were dimmed. Sonata's breath quickened. It was time.

Trying to come up with a reason not to panic—especially in Prance's absence—Sonata took a moment to ponder to herself. She thought on how stressed and worried she had been over the past week, and how difficult earning enough funds had been for much longer than that. Now, before her lay the opportunity to never have to worry about such things again. She had free reign over Glow Hall, and the ears of all the rich nobles that would hear her. By some miracle, Lady Goldenstalks, the same mare who had scolded her so harshly a few days prior, had now decided to bless her with the opportunity to practically reach into the aristocracy's overstuffed purses, and pull out as many bits as she pleased. If she did well tonight, it could mean a whole new, far easier life for her. Could she really squander such an opportunity?

"Most certainly not," she muttered to herself. Opening her eyes, she took a deep breath, and then slowly made her way out from behind the curtain.

She nearly wilted where she stood in center stage, even though the entirety of the commoners' area broke out into cheers. Despite the comfort she received from gazing down upon all of their adoring faces, Sonata still could not help but be drawn to pay far more attention to the skeptical, shrouded, cloaked, and fan-veiled visages of the aristocracy. Try as she might to ignore them, old visions of Prance’s mother gazing down upon her in disgust replayed over and over in her mind.

Her legs began to quiver, and her silence drew out long so that it became odd for the audience to behold. As if only to make matters worse, a small snickering and hum of whispers began to spread across the balcony. As she stood there, sweat beginning to trickle down the back of her neck, all the poor, blue mare could bring herself to do was to stare directly at the Countess. The beautiful unicorn was seated comfortably, chin raised, with a smile upon her face. It annoyed Sonata that one could never quite tell the meaning behind the Lady's smile, and whether or not she was projecting pride, smugness, or spite. If she weren’t so mortified at that moment, Sonata would have surely felt something akin to resentment.

Always the nobles.

Why did it seem that she was never wrong in her assumptions of them? Many of them were harsh and cruel in their judgements on the valor and worth of commoners like her, and she hated herself for giving them ample opportunity to supplement these absurd notions.

Spite blossomed within her now, and as she stood there, Sonata couldn’t help but train all of those feelings onto Lady Goldenstalks whose berry red eyes continued to glare daggers down upon her from where she sat behind the balustrade. Had everything she just told her backstage been a lie, something to force her guard down so that this sting of shame might hurt that much more? Why the dirt would she do such a thing? Did the Lady hate her? And if so, why?

Sonata held her breath. She felt her face going hot as she seriously considered backing off of the stage. Just as she lowered her head, and moved to make a hasty retreat, the oddest noise came echoing down from the balcony. It was the deliberate sound of a single hoof against wood. Somepony, besides those standing on the bottom level of the hall, was stomping for her. Raising her eyes upward again, she looked around to see who it was that dared do such a thing on her behalf. Her ears darted about, listening for the source of the sound until, finally, both they and her eyes trained once more upon the Countess. Sonata gawked.

There the beautiful mare stood, stomping for her, faster and faster. Her smile was bright and clear as day. Slowly, in accordance with the pony of highest stature, the whisperings of the upper level quieted down. Soon everypony else had also gotten to their hooves, beginning to stomp in kind.

Stuck in a moment of pure astonishment, Sonata didn’t notice her muscles beginning to relax, or her breath now beginning to flow more easily until something in the back of her own mind called out to her.

Now, Sonata! Do it now!

Snapping back into awareness, she faced the audience, full of fresh confidence. At once, she felt the wellspring in her head open up. Perfect words poured forth into the forefront of her mind, preparing to leap from her tongue. Taking a deep breath, her eyes trained upon those in the balcony—the Lady, especially. She then stepped forward, and opened her mouth.

_____

Things moved quickly after that evening. Naturally, her performance had been one for the books. For the next few months, all anypony who had attended could talk about was how Sonata had miraculously managed to make the aristocracy get up and dance, something a commoner had never before been able to accomplish. It was a thought that still managed to make Sonata smile to herself, even all of these months later. This wasn't to say that her performance had been completely without its faults—those faults being the two ponies who seemed to have not been deeply moved by her song. The first was Prance who ended up never showing that evening. The second was Lady Goldenstalks, the one pony in the room who, instead of getting lost in melodic euphoria, sat staring pensively at Sonata throughout her entire performance. For all intents and purposes, the beautiful unicorn seemed to not have been moved by her song at all. Still, Sonata found that she could not remain angry at either of them when they both managed to dutifully attend each and every one of her following performances. Even if the Countess never did end up smiling and dancing, and even if both she and Prance always happened to disappear ten minutes before the performance's scheduled conclusion, it was enough for Sonata that they both always showed.

The amount of funds she had amassed after that first night’s performance was massive. In no time at all, she had paid off what she had promised to her parents—by way of the Lock & Stock Safeguard, of course. Never once did she wonder why Echo Hum and Silent Wing—that ever grim pair—seemed so overcome with contentment when they arrived to retrieve all two hundred plus bits of it. This was of no concern to Sonata, however, since one weekly performance at Glow Hall was enough to bring in more than what was required to not only support her parents, but to return onto Lord Goldenstalks the extras she had earned from his household during her visits. And even after all this, there was still more money left to repair the cottage, to pay ponies to help work more of her fields, and to keep herself well fed, indefinitely. Surely, even in these increasingly unstable times, things seemed to be looking up for her.

And the times did prove unstable, indeed. In those very same weeks following Sonata's first performance at Glow Hall, the world around her seemed to churn and upheave just as her own life had.

Prance, after weeks of increasingly bizarre behavior—and cryptic answers to Sonata's probing questions about what might have been causing it—was called for duty to aid in dealing with the conflict in the North. He was sworn to protect the sanctity and stability of the kingdom-at-large after all, and so, for the months that followed, had been making sporadic trips into town to meet with the Lord Goldenstalks so that they might discuss what should be done about their warring neighbors.

Those long, lonely days were subsequently put to foul use considering Sonata's own penchant for self consciousness. The stallion's growing restlessness over time, his unhappiness even, made her anxious. It didn't take long for her increasing paranoia to lead her to believe that Prance had desperately wanted to get away from her for some reason she had yet to settle on. Perhaps now that everything was comfortable for the farm, he felt there was no longer any reason to stay. Perhaps after all of her hard work, he had concluded that she had not needed as much help as she let on in the first place. Maybe he was just bored of country ponies and their country ways, and longed for his mysterious mare lover in town. Whatever the reason might have been, Sonata felt a growing urge to express her worries to the stallion. She needed him to know that if his happiness would require his absence, that she did not wish to be the pony that stood in the way of it.

This particular morning was bright and beautiful. Sonata had risen early—as she was prone to do by habit—to get to work on an apple pie. There was no particular reason to be making an apple pie today, of course, other than the fact that now she had the free time in which to do it, and that it also kept her mind off of the fact that Prance had, once again, gone missing. A pie every other day seemed a great way to fill those spaces that would usually be packed full of worry and fret otherwise. Sometimes she would keep the pastries for herself, but more often than not, she would use them as excuses to visit her countryside acquaintances. She was certain that in these times, none of them ever minded the unexpected company, especially if it afforded them the opportunity to catch up on news and gossip. Today, this apple pie would be going to Begonia Blossom who Sonata heard had been suffering from poor sleep as of late.

Her brow furrowed at the thought of the orange-red mare. Ever since the evening that Sonata had scolded her so harshly, things between them had never quite returned to what they had been before. No matter how many explanations, pies, and apologies were given her, it seemed that there still remained in Begonia's heart a stubborn barb of resentment that refused to be pulled loose. Her words with Sonata were no longer quite as flourished or laced with emotion. Their visits, while growing longer with each go, still remained a far cry from what they used to be. It was a difficult thing to accept, the tarnishing of a friendship. Still, ever hopeful, Sonata tried to remain positive. Maybe today would be much better.

Kneading out the pie cover dough upon a newly made worktable which sat inside of her newly painted cookery, Sonata never once heard Prance entering the room over the sound of her own thoughts. He walked up behind her just as she was pressing the edges of the pie together, and bending down to tote it to the oven. She gasped, and dropped the pan back onto the counter when his hoof landed upon her shoulder.

"Prance!" she squawked, pressing her hoof against her chest. When she pulled it away, it left a flour print in her fur. "You nearly startled me to death!"

"Sorry, sorry!" Prance croaked. He yawned loudly whilst the mare turned to pop the pastry into the spotless oven. "I would have returned before you woke, but the Duke figured it would be a good idea to discuss, and then repeat his ideas on diplomatic strategy for the rebellion in Edinbridle this morning. I swear he's managed to become even more neurotic ever since he ascended to that title."

Sonata paused for a moment, confused by Prance's usage of the title "Duke" to refer to Lord Goldenstalks. She didn't imagine she would ever get used to that, but regardless, what was done was done.

The Earl and Countess Goldenstalks were no longer an Earl and Countess. Thanks to the expiration of some old and distant relative, they had recently taken on control of a wide expanse of land directly north of their realm, bordering Lord Vision's. In kind, they had been made Duke and Duchess. There had been much fanfare and a big to-do about it all. The pair had even traveled to the unicorn court in Canterlot for their peerage ceremony. Supposedly everypony who was anypony had attended. Marmalade had even told Sonata that the revered, young alicorn sisters, Celestia and Luna—the only alicorns to be born of this age—had made an appearance at the ceremony as well.

Knowing by now that it was pointless to question Marmalade, Sonata had wanted to consider this news a good omen. To be in the presence of a natural born alicorn was already so rare. Out of anywhere in the whole wide world, they only existed in the hills on the far side of the ancient mountain in Canterlot, and had been there since time immemorial. The fact that not one, but two alicorn foals had miraculously been born so that ponies of Sonata’s time might have been granted the privilege of witnessing them grow just seemed an added blessing for this age. However, looking at the way the tides were now turning, Sonata couldn't help but feel that perhaps the alicorn sisters' presence was simply a harbinger of trials and tribulations to come. Perhaps extra goodness was required in the world in order to balance out the darkness everypony seemed to feel coming.

Chaos was brewing below the surface. Something foul had hatched, and let forth its spray of poison into the world, and it seemed possible to trace its genesis all to that one argument between a bigoted unicorn duke and a hot-headed pegasus commander. The dread of war and rebellion, desperation and delusion seized many hearts and minds over a mere matter of months. Every pony on land and in the sky had a common hunch, a universally shared sense that insisted horrible things would surely come to pass. There would be a shift, both messy and chaotic. That much was certain. Then things would no longer be as they were before. Whether this inevitable change would be for better or worse was something that nopony had yet to predict. All anypony could do was to simply wait it all out, and hope that when the bottom inevitably fell out from beneath them, it would not be for too long.

In some small way, Sonata Dusk could not help but feel slighted by the universe. Why was it that when one heaping pile of worry was dealt with, an even larger pile seemed to be waiting in the wings for her? War? Rebellion? Really? What in the dirt was she ever supposed to do with news of that nature? It hardly took any effort at all on her part to come to the conclusion that, for as long as she could manage, she wanted to have no part in any of it, not Vision's silly battle, not any earth pony uprising, and not whatever foulness was sure to come from all of that negativity and conflict.

She grimaced at these thoughts, trying to fight off the voices in her head that told her that this time, she really was acting selfishly. Just because she had yet to be touched by all of these upheavals in the world didn't mean that those whom she cared for had not.

She finally turned to face Prance. He smiled coyly at her.

"Another pie? Who's it for this time, I can only wonder?”

Sonata shot a snide smirk in his direction, and turned back around.

"Begonia," she muttered, busying herself with wiping her hooves clean. She didn't see Prance's smile falter, but still she knew that was what it was doing, even with her head turned.

"I see. Splendid! She can always use your visits, especially nowadays."

There was a brief pause in the conversation as the stallion waited for Sonata to finish with her work. When she looked idle enough, he spoke again.

"Come sit with me by the well. Just for a little while. We haven't done it in so long."

He nudged her playfully in the side, coaxing her to look at him again. It was only then that Sonata caught a strange flash of something, some undecipherable emotion in his eyes. What was that? Sadness? Some type of guilt? He seemed barely able to look at her directly. The expression was almost too forlorn. It startled her. Nervously, she nodded her head. Would this be the day he told her he had tired of her? Would this be the day he finally said he would be leaving for good?

"Yes," she replied, her voice no louder than a murmur. She followed him silently out of the cottage's back door.

The air was cool. The great oak remained steadfast and still where it had always been. As the gentle breeze blew, the grasses bowed, dancing to and fro. It was serene. Even Prance's face—at least what she could see of it out of the corner of her eye—seemed supremely calm. He sat beside her, eyes closed as if deep in thought. Turning her head slightly to get a better look, Sonata couldn't help but notice how much more defined the tired creases and shadows beneath his eyes had become. She was sure it was all her doing, intentionally or not. She mustered up some courage, and opened her mouth to speak.

"I've been having sour dreams," he muttered before she could even get a word out. Trying to readjust her mind to the unexpected outburst, Sonata gulped a few times, cleared her throat, and peered at the stallion.

"Y-you have? Imagine that! Begonia has been having bad dreams as well," she sputtered, her eyes wide with curiosity. "What about? Sometimes I have these horrible dreams about drowning in a giant bowl of bitter dandelion stew, and the only way for me to escape is to eat my way ou—"

"Nonsense," he stated, almost spitting the words out spitefully. His brow was now furrowed with frustration. "The first few minutes are of incoherent babbling, wild laughter. For a moment, I see a creature, something that resembles a dragon or a snake with legs, but not quite. It's terrifying. It laughs, and never makes any sense when it speaks."

The stallion's violet eyes popped open. The look in them seemed to hint at delirium

"Then, always after the snake creature disappears, I have terrible visions. Visions about those that I love. Bad things, impossible things happen to them." His voice lowered to a wary hiss, almost as if he feared that somepony—or something else—might hear him. "It’s always the same dream. It always seems so real."

Sonata instinctively shrank away from him. Her mouth gawked open and shut, not knowing what to say.

"Wh... What do you think is causing it, Prance?"

The stallion shook his head.

"I suspect it is residual of being so near to the battle. There is an extraordinary amount of aggressive unicorn magic and willpower floating about. This quarrel between Vision and Debon Air has already become more big and aggressive than anything ponies have seen within a few centuries. Perhaps the spreading ill will of Edinbridle's unicorns is able to cause..."

His voice trailed off. Now he looked even more perplexed, and had begun to shake with frustration.

"You're probably right," Sonata murmured, saddling over to nuzzle against him for comfort's sake. "You always seem to know best about—"

"But not here," Prance interrupted, staring at her.

"Eh? W-what do you mean?" Sonata asked.

"The only two places where I don't have the dreams are when I'm on the Fylleion farm or at Goldenstalks manor. Why is that?"

Sonata momentarily seemed to be lost in thought.

"I'm quite certain I wouldn't know, Prance. I find this all far too confusing. I can't help but feel terrible for you."

Prance's eyes closed again, this time as if in defeat. Seeing that her attempts at comforting him were proving fruitless, Sonata decided that perhaps it would be best to change the subject.

"Your... Her. Is she well?"

She felt hopeful when the stallion's eyes popped open again, the tiniest of smiles upon his face. There was a moment during which he seemed to be fumbling for words. When he could not find any, he settled for a heavy sigh.

"There... there is something I must tell you, Sonata."

Suddenly, all of her previous fears from earlier that morning came rushing back to mind.

"Yes?" she squeaked. The look she gave him was pitiful, a failing attempt at mustering courage. "What is it?"

"I... You... you are most dear to me. Do you know that?" the stallion remarked softly, unable to look at her.

Sonata seemed befuddled.

"I know... But what makes you say such a thing at a time like this, I wonder?"

There was a pause as Prance gulped loudly.

"In the case that something should... should ever happen, will you promise me that you shall do your best to stay well and to be happy?"

"Hap... happen?"

Sonata shook her head in confusion until suddenly it dawned upon her. This was it. This was the conversation, the one where he tried to find a way out of her world. Well, if that was the case, far be it from her to stand in his way. Lowering her head so that Prance might not see the fat tear that promptly escaped from her eye, she gave him a weak nod.

"I promise," she sighed, and with that heavy breath, she felt her heart collapse. Her body went cold. She was sure that what she was feeling was the same as what a flame felt after being doused in water. Still, she knew that this too was just another stone that she would have to maneuver around. It wasn't impossible, was it? Not for her.

"We had better head back," she mumbled in a flat tone. Bounding to her hooves, she began walking rather mechanically toward the cottage. "My pie shall burn."

____

He sat doing what he always seemed to be doing nowadays: pouring over papers that had been strewn about her sitting room floor for months. With each visit to Goldenstalks manor or quick trip beyond, the piles would grow bigger and bigger. When he had tired of reading, he would simply just fall asleep next to the mounds upon the floor.

His work was beyond her, so she would never ask questions about any of it. Sometimes she would just sit silently with him arranging flowers or carefully sewing new cushions with her teeth as she spied on him out of the corner of her eyes. He would remain unmoved, increasingly tired-looking and pensive. That was the way he looked right now as Sonata bustled about the cottage, preparing to head down the road to Begonia's.

After she had put on her kerchief and hat, she gathered the pie up into a clean cloth that could be carried by the teeth. She noticed that his eyes never followed her as she approached the door. To her, each step lasted an eternity, and came with fond memories of moments the stallion and she had spent together. As she stared at him, she tried to burn the image of him sitting like that into her mind for fear that it might be the last one she would ever see. More than anything, she wanted to run and embrace him, to tell him how much he meant to her, but something stopped her from doing so. Perhaps it was the fear that she might come off as weak or clingy. Maybe she was afraid she might shame him into remaining where he was no longer happy, and that was the last thing she wanted.

Pushing open the cottage door, she cleared her throat until she had caught his attention.

"I'm off."

The words escaped from her mouth in a small croak.

When he smiled at her, the melancholy in his eyes was clear as day. He nodded his head, and stared almost as if he too were trying to burn her image into his own mind.

"Safe travels, Sonata," he murmured.

With that, she crossed the threshold, and slowly closed the door behind her.

____

She found Begonia working in her enormous garden which was just as well since it was the perfect place to sit and talk. The children were up by then. With their spirits lifted by Sonata's presence, they now spent their time playfully chasing each other around the yard. The foals never seemed to notice how the two mares sat quietly before one another at Begonia's garden table, both forlorn, and both trying their best to pretend everything was just fine. It took a while before Sonata decided to lead with conversation.

"I saw the Duchess' servants walking down the path toward your cottage last week. Did she have another party?"

Sonata held her breath as she cut a piece of pie for her friend. What an utterly horrid way to force a conversation. Yet, to her surprise, Begonia's face broke into a tiny smile. She huffed a laugh, and stared into the slice of pie before her.

"Of course," the orange mare jibed, her voice cracking and tired. "Now that she is Duchess, it seems she cannot help herself. Every two weeks on the dot, another party. My garden shall surely be bare before the season's out."

Leaning down toward the pie, Begonia took a polite nibble from it.

"I could have never imagined one pony might love posies so much."

Sonata forced a small laugh as she cut herself a piece of pie as well.

"Anyway, it is well enough if she were to uproot the entire thing, and haul it all away," Begonia muttered, letting off an unintentional growl. She immediately looked apologetic for having said this.

"Come now, Begonia. You don't mean that," Sonata clucked. "Flowers are your passion. You love them!"

Things went deathly silent as the blue mare watched Begonia's eyes shut. When they opened again, her gaze had gone distant.

"I can barely stand the sight of them anymore. I keep dreaming that the flowers talk to me, whispering madness. I keep dreaming that they uproot themselves, and begin crawling all over me. And then that horrid, flying lizard creature just watches, laughing and laughing..." the orange mare trailed off. Sonata froze, realizing immediately what her friend was telling her.

Begonia’s gaze moved toward her foals who were playing rather close to the rose bushes now. Her brow twitched with worry.

"I would think little of it if the children had not begun to dream the same things. I try to keep a straight face for them, and tell them it's nothing. But they're growing quickly. They're smart children. They know that something is wrong. And I can't explain to them..."

Sonata nodded her head trying to think of what she could possibly say to her friend to comfort her.

"Prance says it may be residue from being so close to negative unicorn will," she added, urging her friend to finish her pie. "Maybe if you were to get away for a little while..."

Begonia nodded. It seemed that she needed to believe such a thing now more than ever.

"Lighthoof is smart. He's probably right," the orange mare murmured. Catching her second wind a moment later, she forced herself to sit up straight and feign strength.

"How is Lighthoof anyway? Still busy as ever, I imagine," she inquired with a smile. Now, it was Sonata's turn to look bitter.

"Very much so," the blue mare replied. Begonia's grin faded.

"Still acting strange, then?” she added, tapping her hoof against the table. "Still disappearing in the middle of the night, is he?"

Sonata nodded.

"He always says it's to travel to Goldenstalks manor or to town."

Begonia scoffed.

"Oh, that Lighthoof. Don't you fret about it, Sonata. It's probably just a mare. You know him," she chortled, taking an enthusiastic bite out of her pie. The look on her face made Sonata smile. For a moment, it almost felt like old times between them, before the dreams, before Debon Air, and before the two hundred bits.

"You're probably right, Bea— I mean... Begonia," Sonata stammered. She dropped her gaze guiltily toward the table. The quiet that followed was embarrassing. Sonata forced in a deep breath, and resolved herself to ending it.

"Sorry," she muttered to her companion. It took a moment, but soon she heard Begonia sigh.

"Bea. You can still call me Bea, my dear," the orange mare beamed.

Sonata, rather stunned, glanced up into her eyes to catch her smiling warmly. She returned the grin, feeling far calmer, happier. The sun seemed to shine a bit brighter now. The sky seemed a bit bluer. Not wanting to ruin the moment with more of her own babbling—for fear that she might say something foolish—she decided it would be a good time to take her leave. Raising up slightly off of the cushion, she nodded her head.

"I should get back," she proclaimed, trying to hide the fresh cheer in her voice. "I sang for Glow Hall two evenings ago, and really must clean my robe today."

As she reached down to fetch her wide brimmed hat from where it lay beside her, she saw Begonia jump forward anxiously out of the corner of her eye.

"Wait!" Begonia yelped, much to Sonata's surprise. Startled, the blue mare took a step backward.

Looking apologetic, Begonia forced herself back down to her seat.

"Don't leave. Not just yet. Please."

Slowly, Sonata retook her seat, eyeing her friend worriedly. Begonia, feeling rather self conscious, shot an embarrassed smile in Sonata's direction.

"I haven't been telling you this every time you've come to spend the day, but... Th-the dreams don't come when you are here," she whispered, eyeing her garden cautiously. "When you are here, we don't suffer when we sleep. Won't you please stay? Just a little while longer. F-for the children. So that they might sleep a bit. I-I shall keep you company."

Sonata could barely hide the worry that plastered itself upon her face. She nodded, her brow furrowed with concern. Begonia didn't seem to mind it. When she realized Sonata would not leave, she was instantly filled with a surge of energy. Reaching forward, she happily moved to cut them both another slice of pie.

____

Night had fallen by the time Sonata returned to her cottage. It turned out that Bea was in more dire straights than she was willing to let on. She told her that she had wanted her around so that Petunia and Peat Moss might be able to rest. However, most of the remainder of Sonata's visit consisted of watching Begonia sleep for hours under the shade of a young sapling whilst the children continued playing in the yard. Begonia was exhausted, and it had been made utterly clear that she had not been getting much, if any sleep. Even after staying well into the night, Sonata was glad to have done it if it meant she could bring her friend some small semblance of peace.

It wasn't until she had reached her hoof up to touch her cottage's front door that the entire morning spent with Prance came rushing back into her mind. At once, she began to tremble, noticing that through the window, she could not see any lamps lit inside. Taking a deep breath, she leaned forward, and pushed against the door.

“Miss Sonata Dusk!” came a familiar voice calling from her rear. Quite shocked to be having somepony sneak up on her this wretchedly late at night, Sonata spun around, squealing. It took a moment for her to recognize the strangers by the gate as Echo Hum and Silent Wing, the two pegasi from Lock & Stock.

“I do wish everypony would stop sneaking up on me that way!” Sonata yelped, pressing a hoof against her chest. Echo and Silent looked completely and utterly unmoved by the earth mare’s distress. Taking a step forward, the white pegasus reared up, and casually leaned her body against the fence post.

“It’s midweek, Miss Dusk. Our patron is expecting a delivery from you.”

Recalling that she had, indeed, done a performance at Glow Hall two evenings before, Sonata slowly began to nod her head, and slumped down in relief upon the grass.

“Right! The money! Of course! Slipped my mind again, it did. Pardon me,” she laughed nervously. “Things are just so unpredictable and distracting what with the North, and the rebellion, and the… singing...”

She trailed off when she noticed that not only did the two pegasi not care one lick about what she was saying, but that they both also looked extremely exhausted and short on patience, almost as if they too had missed a night or two of sleep. Peering at them in the light of the moon, she could even make out the dark rings encircling their eyes as they glowered at her.

“Right. I… I’ll just go, and fetch it then,” Sonata murmured, turning about to face her door.

Knowing she had not the luxury of worrying over Prance any longer, she pushed her way into the darkened cottage, and turned to face the main room.

It was completely empty, void of all signs that Prance had ever been there. His papers were gone, his trappings were gone, and he had even managed to pull the room together neatly before his departure. Sonata’s heart sank. What she feared most had finally come to pass.

Making her way through the room, she peered about, searching for some small sign that she was perhaps mistaken when, suddenly, her eyes caught a glint of something somewhere in the dark. She turned her head to see that there was an item lying on the floor in the shadows beneath the window sill. Upon closer inspection, she realized that it was a rather ordinary-looking scroll. Thinking Prance had accidentally left it behind, she reached down to pull the thing closer, and then unfurled it in the window's light. Squinting at the writing it contained, she realized that she had seen this style of script before.

"You are in danger! It has to be tonight! I shall wait for you by the fountain," she read out loud.

The message was very short, succinct, and quite mysterious. Also, the scroll smelled of roses. Thus, Sonata immediately recognized it as yet another message from her, Prance's nameless, faceless lover. Yet still, she wondered why the writing seemed to strike her as familiar. Where, oh where had she seen it before?

Picking up the scroll between her teeth, Sonata momentarily looked up and out of the window to catch the two pegasi now roaming about her yard. By the looks of it, they were pacing the length of the cottage, eyeing things thoroughly, digging through the bushes, and acting quite strangely, to put it plainly.

Sonata, at first taking the pair's behavior as par for the course, thought nothing of it. She turned, and headed toward her bedroom, scroll clamped in her mouth. Her mind was still struggling to recall its author.

Very curly lettering. Very regal. She's well learned.

Her eyes squeezed shut. The image of somepony specific now sat at the very edges of her mind. She never even noticed Echo and Silent beginning to edge their way toward the cottage's front door as she honed in on that image in her head. As soon as they both stepped into the dim, main room, it dawned on her, clear as day.

"Lady Goldenstalks'," she gasped to herself. "The Duchess!"

When she heard a hoof accidentally trip over a nearby cushion, she spun about. Flustered and wide eyed, she spotted the two pegasi edging forward, eyeing her suspiciously.

"Is something the matter, Miss Dusk?" Echo inquired, leaning slightly to one side. "You look as if you've seen a spirit!"

"Obv cours—" she accidentally dropped the scroll "—Of course not! That's the silliest thing I've ever heard in my life! I just… I just ah… had forgotten where I put the payment for a moment. That's all.”

She picked up the scroll, and quickly bustled off toward her bedroom. "Jss wait a moment. I’ll be rght back," she said through her teeth.

Peering at the two from behind the corner of her bedroom door, Sonata could see them now searching through her things more aggressively. It was clear that they were on a mission of which she was not privy to. She wondered what it might be and prayed that her increasing paranoia was wrong in assuming that—

“Miss Dusk?” Echo called again from the main room. Sonata drew her head away from the door with a gasp.

“Y-yes?” she shrilled.

“We were both wondering if you had seen that Sir Lighthoof recently.”

Sonata clamped her hooves over her mouth to contain her panicked squeak.

“Uhh… N-no! He has been very scarce around these parts as of late, what with the conflict to the North, and whatnot. Yes, I imagine he is far… far away by now.”

There was an odd silence. Sonata could almost hear the gears whirring in the heads of the two pegasi.

“W-why do you ask?” she prodded further, fighting off the fear of what the answer might be. “Is something the matter?”

“That is classified information I’m afraid,” Echo replied, unexpectedly popping her head in through the bedroom door to glare at Sonata directly. The blue mare, trying to save face, bolted to her hooves, and raced over toward her chest—but not before sliding the Countess' scroll behind a nearby potted plant.

Cocking a brow at the earth mare’s jumpy behavior, Echo pushed further into her bedroom.

“We’d just like to have a chat with him. It has something to do with a new patron we’ve acquired. Thus, it is rather important—Pardon me. Would you mind very much if I...”

Almost as if she owned the place, Echo barged her way past Sonata as she was reaching for the handle of the large chest. The white mare reached forward to shove the lid open herself. Poking her head into the large box, she began to dig around within it. Sonata dared not say anything in protest.

“Hmm,” the pegasus hummed to herself, her brow furrowing with disappointment when she did not find whatever it was she had been looking for. Even still, she reached into the chest one more time, and removed the large sack that Sonata used to hold gold bits.

“Thish ish yer payment I assume?” Echo inquired, clutching the satchel in her teeth. Sonata nodded slowly. She then watched as the white mare turned around, slammed the lid of the chest shut with her hind hoof, and walked toward the door.

Her first inclination was to not say anything, to just keep silent until the two intruders left her alone. But by and by, Sonata felt something familiar igniting in the pit of her stomach, and rising up into her chest. It was the same feeling of defiance she had felt when Prance had dragged her through the streets of Greenwaters those few months ago. Who did these pegasi think they were? She had gone through so much to work, maintain, and keep her home. For these two to take it upon themselves to barge their way in, and tear it apart seemed highly disrespectful. Slowly, her lips parted, and before Echo had even stepped out of the room, a slew of words spilled from Sonata's mouth.

“Now, wait just one moment. I should think that if you two feel so free as to invade my home without permission that I would at least have the privilege of knowing why. Why are you asking after Pr— Sir Lighthoof, and what does it have to do with rummaging through my belongings, hm?”

She instantly regretted saying anything, even more so when she watched Echo freeze mid step in the bedroom doorway. The pegasus slowly turned around to stare at her, a venomous look in her eyes. Sonata gulped down a lump caught in her throat. The lump seemed to hit her stomach at the same time and with the same force with which the satchel in Echo’s mouth hit the floor.

“Do you know what I've always found quaint about provincial earth ponies such as yourself, Miss Dusk?" Echo began slowly, a lethal quality in her tone. "You have very little to worry about. Ponies such as yourself rise up in the morning, trot about watering weeds or—I don't know—pounding things with large, blunt stones or whatever it is that you do, then you send your wares off to the rest of the kingdom. And the rest of your time is spent wisely keeping your bumbling... simple... mouths... shut. Very little troubles, very few cares, very quaint. Wouldn't you agree, Miss Dusk?"

Sonata felt her cheeks going hot with indignation even as she began to tremble.

"Th-that's not tru—"

"Thus, the reason eludes me, Miss Dusk, as to why you would think yourself so..." the mare snorted disdainfully, "complex as to be made privy to matters as important and sensitive that they should concern safeguards to the kingdom's elite as well as a royally ordained knight."

"Just a moment! Th-this is my cottage, and you have no right to—"

Echo pushed the blue mare back against a wall, and brought her face very close so as to drive her point home.

"There is a price that comes with being the bearer of burdens such as ours. There are those who would do bad things, very bad things to ponies who know what we and your Sir Lighthoof know. Are you certain, Miss Dusk, that you are willing to relinquish all that you have recently regained in life—your friends, your farm, your well-being—for nothing more than one selfish, foolhardy inquiry?"

Sonata, too stunned to speak, cowered in the mare's piercing, silver line of sight. Seeing the earth pony so shaken, a sly smile spread across Echo's face. She leaned in closer until their noses touched.

"I shall ask you once more, Miss Dusk, and do take into consideration all that you hold dear before you reply. Do you know the whereabouts of Sir Prance Lighthoof?"

It took all of Sonata's effort to keep her voice box from clenching shut as it used to in her childhood. Steadily, she shook her head. Her lips stammered, searching for any word that would come.

"N-no... G-gone," she squeaked, wishing more than anything for the pegasus to just leave her be.

There was a brief pause as Echo studied her face, searching her eyes for a lie. With a heave, she backed away from the shaken earth mare, and turned to fetch the satchel from the floor.

"For your sake, I hope you are speaking the truth," she cautioned before leaving the room to rejoin her companion.

It took a moment before Sonata could regain her composure—not to mention the feeling in her legs. When she did, she rose, and moved to peer around the bedroom door just in time to catch Echo tossing the satchel to Silent Wing.

"Nothing of worth in the bedroom... or her," Echo muttered, practically pounding the cottage's door open with her front hoof. Silent Wing snickered to himself as he tied the satchel to his belt.

"Should have let me try. Bet I could get somethin' out of her," the stallion chortled, even whilst Echo rolled her eyes, and shook her head.

"Ugh" she groaned, unfurling her ivory wings. "Let's fly. We've much ground to cover before night's end. Remember, he wants the entire countryside done by morning. You go West, I shall head East."

"Right, right. All business, no fun with you, ah, Hummy?" Silent Wing continued, trying and failing to hide his wide grin. He spread his enormous wings out wide, and darted off into the sky. His laughter echoed throughout the evening, and easily worked to infuriate his partner. Steadying her nerves, Echo took a deep breath, and began to flap her shining wings.

"...shall kill you one day," she grumbled before she too jettisoned into the night.

____

When Sonata was quite certain that they were gone, she released the breath she had been holding, and moved out into the living room. Seeing that the pegasi had left the door open, she quickly moved to slam the thing shut.

No sooner had she collapsed onto the floor, breathing a heavy sigh of relief did she hear a heavy, frantic knock coming from the cottage's back door.

"Ohhh, what is it now?" she groaned, her head tilting backward, and making a loud 'THUD' against the wall. Wearily, she stood up, and made her way into the kitchen. She grumbled to herself the entire way.

"Mercenaries be damned," she hissed as she moved to the back door, and pressed her hoof against the wood. "One more unexpected visitor, and I swear I shall—"

The door swung open to reveal two ponies standing outside in the dark. One of them was completely hidden within a billowing, black cloak. Sonata gasped as she gazed directly into the other pony's familiar pair of glimmering, violet eyes.

"Prance!" she hissed, an overflowing sense of joy suddenly coming over her. She leapt forward, wrapping her forelegs about his neck, and pulling him in close. "I thought you'd gone forever!"

"No, Sonata, I—"

"I thought it was the dreams, or the North, or that mare of yours."

"Sonata, listen to m—"

"Those two pegasi came back! They tore the cottage apart looking for—"

"Sonata!" Prance yelled, pressing his hooves against her shoulders, and shaking her. It was only then, in that quiet space that Sonata finally noticed the wild, frantic look in his eye.

"You already know, don't you?" she breathed.

"Yes," he replied sternly. "And I have to ask a favor of you, my friend. The greatest favor I've ever asked of anypony."

"Name it," Sonata replied, her head nodding rapidly.

It was then that Prance motioned toward the cloaked figure who, up until that moment, had been standing to his rear in complete silence.

"Hide her... Just until I return," he urged. The desperation in his voice was clear.

"H... 'her'?" Sonata asked, taking one wary step toward the cloaked pony.

There was a tiny voice in the back of her mind that insisted that she go no further, that she grab Prance, pull him into the cottage, and promptly lock the door behind them both. But like the stubborn and curious mare that she was, she paid it no heed. She was drawn forward by the pristine, yellow hooves of the stranger, the perfect posture that could be seen even whilst draped in thick, dark fabric. Her heart began to beat faster and harder in her chest. Another step. Her eyes moved upward. She could see pristine curls hanging down out of the cloak's hood, gorgeous, orange ringlets that were quite familiar to her. One more step, and finally she stood before the figure. Beneath the hood, a pair of serene, berry red eyes, stared down into her. By and by, the stranger pulled their cloak back. Sonata's breath caught in her throat. She shook her head, not wanting to believe what she was seeing.

"N... n-no," she stammered as Lady Goldenstalks herself took one step toward her.

"Miss Sonata," the Duchess began in that beguiling tone that she was known too well for. In one curt movement, she reverently bent her head in Sonata's direction.

The sound of her voice sent a shiver up Sonata's spine. In a flash, the earth mare was on her belly, in the dirt.

"Y-your Grace! How can I—... What should I—..."

Sonata's voice trailed off into nothing when she felt a hoof gently curl beneath her chin, directing her gaze upward. Her eyes connected instantly with the Lady's. Therein, Sonata saw resolve and even a bit of shame.

"I think you would agree, Miss Sonata, that under the present circumstances, there is no longer any need for such formalities."

Without another word, the Lady lifted the blue mare back up to her hooves. Sonata, her face now gone all hot, trembled at the sensation of the golden unicorn's touch. Unable to meet the Duchess' gaze again, she settled for staring at her mouth. To her surprise, the perfect pout curved upward into a faint smile.

"Call me Adagio."

The In-between

The air was heavy. To Sonata, the silence between them proved unbearable. It was no consolation that the Lady's ruby eyes burned into her so acutely that finding fascination in the wood grain of the floor seemed fitting. Now and then, when she would muster the courage to speak, Sonata would discover that a glance at the mare's beautiful face made her throat clench, her voice dissipate. It seemed impossible that she might converse with such a pony as one would a friend. Perhaps things would be easier if she tried doing what she usually did around nobility—groveling.

"Please do me the honor of having a bit of tea with me, My L—Pardon me—Ad-a-gi-o?" It still felt utterly wrong to be calling her that. "Surely, you must be quite on edge."

There was a beat of silence.

"And what has led you to believe that I am 'on edge' as you say?" the Lady retorted in that calm, curling manner of hers.

"Oh, I'm sure I wouldn't know," Sonata giggled nervously. "I suppose I only assumed that with everything—"

"Perhaps you shouldn't," the silken voice came again with an air of finality.

Nodding to herself as if to agree that she was being a fool, Sonata then rose to her hooves, and passed the Duchess the most forced of grins. "Quite right, as usual! Quite right! I suppose I shall just go make a pot for myself, then. After all, my fortitude is surely nothing when compared to yours, yes? Yes!"

Something glimmered in the Lady’s eyes as she scanned Sonata over. “And who is it that told you I wouldn’t like tea? I would love some." A tiny smirk creased her lips.

By this point, Sonata felt perfectly puzzled. “O-of course you’d love some tea. What in the dirt was I thinking? How could I possibly sit here enjoying my own whilst you watch? I’ll fetch us both some, then!”

Seeing that she was sounding increasingly deranged, she turned to trot into the kitchen. Realizing she had not bowed before she made to leave, the blue mare turned about, and bent over so quickly that her face slammed into the floor. It was then that she remembered the Lady's request that she stop bowing in the first place. Some good advice, it seemed. "Oww," she squeaked, a shiver of pain running through her entire body. Too mortified with herself to attempt looking again toward the Duchess, she rose up, turned once more, and shuffled away. Once in the kitchen, she plopped down onto the floor to lament her own clumsiness.

“Spirits. What is wrong with you, you foolish mare?” she scolded herself, burying her face into the nook of her forelegs. When she had made herself feel sufficiently horrible, she stood, and headed toward the hearth to heat some water. The warm, crackling fire proved enticing. She sat down before it. Closing her eyes, she focused on clearing her mind of all the trouble she had unexpectedly become part of.

The Duchess? Had Prance gone completely mad? Didn't he realize the danger he was putting her in by bringing Lady Goldenstalks here of all places? How could he find it in himself to do this after everything he told her in the fields?

She shook her head. In her heart of hearts, Sonata knew that he wouldn't have done it if it wasn't important, or if he wasn't sure if she, his closest friend, would be safe. Perhaps this had something to do with the war or maybe even...

A foal.

Sonata gasped. If the latter were true, then she felt even more keen on aiding them. Far be it from her to allow a child to grow up unhappy or endangered just as she had before the farm. In fact, Sonata felt so convicted about this that she found it simple to convince herself it, indeed, was the reason the two ponies had decided to run.

One could do only so much stalling to avoid others before said "others" began to feel shunned. Sonata dared not dwell on how Lady Adagio might react if she were to feel even the least bit slighted. Thus, with great hesitation, the earth mare made her way back out into the sitting room, teapot dangling from her mouth, cups and saucers carefully balanced atop her back.

She trotted in to find the Lady casually moving about the main room, exploring the trappings of Sonata's home. The noble mare had shed her cloak, revealing a fine, deep violet robe. Its sparse train flowed like water over the floor rug. By and by, she happened upon Sonata's collection of dolls where they were arranged atop the fireplace. The unicorn smiled, appearing intrigued.

Sonata's eyes went wide as she watched the Duchess reach out toward the little linen creatures. Placing the pot and cups down upon the tabletop, she rushed to block her advancing foreleg. The Lady snatched her appendage away, quite startled. "Oh, please don't, Adagio, My Lady. Those are quite filthy. Only a tangle of old rags," Sonata urged.

The Lady eyed her over, and at first it seemed as if she might yell. A smirk cracked her lips instead. "A tad overprotective of a 'tangle of old rags,' are you not?" she countered, her smile growing even wider.

The earth mare's eyes shifted repeatedly from left to right. Her cheeks went purple.

Naturally, a full minute of watching this reaction only worked to irritate the Lady. She cocked a fine brow, and frowned so precisely that it seemed as if she had practiced doing it her entire life. "You are just going to stand there gawking at me, aren't you?" she sighed.

Sonata could manage only a withering grin.

The Duchess rolled her eyes, and turned away. Her curly tail smacked against Sonata's nose. The blue mare couldn't help but marvel at how it felt like silk, and smelled of roses.

"I was going to tell you that your dolls were charming, not that it would very much matter to you," the Duchess muttered, taking her seat upon the cushion at the tea table.

Sonata could only stare. She was positive that Lady Goldenstalks had long tired of this, but it was something that just could not be helped. She had never seen a pony shine and flow as the Duchess seemed to. Every little move she made came slowly, calmly, as if her actions were part of some large, inconceivable plan of her own making. Sonata couldn't help but wonder why a pony so guarded, cunning, and full of regal promise should have wanted to act upon desires so forbidden that she now found it necessary to hide from retribution in a peasant farmer's dusty little cottage on the edge of the woods. This type of thing didn't seem to suit her at all.

Lady Adagio had been Prance's lover all along.

Sonata felt sick even thinking the words. Still, they would not stop echoing across her mind. Surely, considering the gravity of these circumstances, she had managed to evade the wrath of Silent Wing and Echo Hum by chance alone. It didn't take a sage to realize that the two had used her due payment as cover for the new "errand" they were completing on behalf of Duke Goldenstalks.

The Duke... He knows.

Her mouth went dry as she imagined what might happen if they were caught. The Duke and Duchess were royal peers, potential successors to the unicorn throne. By taking the Lady as a lover, Prance had not only committed a sin. No, this was beyond sin. This was treason.

Sonata couldn't fathom what the Duke would do to Prance if he got the chance. As for herself—a simple vassal's adopted street urchin of a daughter who, by the way, was not exactly on the Duke's amicable side—it would surely be the gallows. Worse yet, it would be some magical punishment conjured up by the most sadistic of unicorn wizards. Perhaps shrunken in size and crushed like an ant? An eternity trapped in stone?

Sonata was lost so deeply in her thoughts that she never noticed her front hoof wandering upward to hover before her neck. Her back slid against the wall, down toward the floor.

Gone undetected was the now agitated look upon Lady Adagio's face. At once, the Duchess loudly cleared her throat, snapping Sonata from her trance. The earth mare fell hard onto her backside. Her gaze darted about. "Wh-Huh? Yes, My Adagio Lady!" she blurted, earning only another contemptuous glare from the unicorn in return.

"Pardon me," the Lady began. "Whilst I have no doubt that your ruminations are all quite intriguing, I simply can't help but wonder whether you had expected me to pour my own tea." A hoof moved to rest beneath her comely chin. "Is it different for you all? I presumed pouring drink for a guest was common practice."

"Oh!" Sonata yelped. Bounding to her hooves, she rushed over toward the little table to snatch up the teapot. Carefully, she poured Lady Adagio a cup whilst the yellow mare's eyes wandered off over her head to save Sonata the embarrassment of her gaze. The earth mare then filled her own cup, and when she had finished, took a seat opposite the Lady.

"There you are, Your Graaaa—Adagio," she declared. "I hope you are fond of lemon balm."

Indeed, she did. These leaves had proven quite costly when she had procured them from Dandy on the week before. She had even given the stallion a kiss upon his cheek, hoping for a discount. Thankfully, it had worked. Nevertheless, it would be a shame if so much was spent just for the odd chance that Lady Adagio might sputter the liquid out all over her floor. "And I must apologize again for the state of my home. As I told Prance, those two... whatever they are tore it all up just before you arrived."

The Duchess caught her spoon up in a glow of magic. She stirred the cup whilst scrutinizing its contents. Her mouth was formed into a slight grimace. "Pegasi mercenaries," she muttered, "a dreadful bunch, indeed. Particularly those who are deemed worthy enough for employment by Lock & Stock."

Sonata blinked. "But I thought they only delivered important messages and packages, and guarded very important ponies."

At this, the Duchess scoffed. She raised her cup in magic, and allowed it to hover before her lips. "Is that what they're calling it nowadays?" Barely managing to take a tiny, unfulfilling sip before catching the befuddled look Sonata was wearing, the Duchess then sighed and rolled her eyes. "Listen to me. Those pegasi are some of the best private warriors for hire in the kingdom. The only warriors more skilled are those who are royally ordained, and very few of the king's warriors are pegasi. Their kind aren't fond of following unicorn orders unless they are paid very well for doing so. Anypony who hires pegasi like that from a place like Lock & Stock is one who wishes to assuredly keep another well watched and pinned beneath their hoof." The next sip she took from her cup was now long and satisfying. She didn't notice Sonata's brow creasing.

"Pinned beneath..." Sonata mumbled to herself. "But why would mother and father..." These thoughts, far too disconcerting for her to want to dwell upon, melted away when she spied a bright smile edging its way across the Duchess' lips. Soon her question was wholly forgotten, and as the noble mare lowered her cup, Sonata sighed in relief.

"Quite lovely, Sonata. Well done," Lady Adagio tittered.

Sonata felt her cheeks go red at the sound of her name being called without title. It sounded far more personal that way. "Th-thank you, My Lady, Adagio." Grinning from ear to ear, she leaned down to take a sip from her own cup. She had been right about the tea. After a few cups she found that it did work to calm her nerves. This, however, had another adverse effect in that it also made her profoundly aware of the silence in which the two of them were now sitting. Eyes darting back and forth between the Lady's face and her fifth, half emptied cup, Sonata decided she should commit herself to being a better hostess. Surely, she could think of something to say that wasn't so trivial that noble wouldn't care for it. Surely, her nerves wouldn't get the better of her so much as to make her speak something completely ridiculous.

"You probably shouldn't drink too much, if you don't mind my saying, My Lady," Sonata stated without prompt. "Lemon balm may not sit well with those who are expecting."

There went the Lady's tea, spat up all over the floor just as Sonata had feared.

"Pardon me?" the noble mare exclaimed, wiping stray droplets from her lip. "Just what the jewel are you implying?"

By this time, Sonata's face had drawn into the most painfully forced and terrified of tea time smiles. She wasn't sure of exactly what it was she had done wrong, but figured it would be best to find out.

"So sorry, Myladagio," she peeped, immediately getting to her hooves. "I can make you a different tea! Which would you like? If I'm recalling it correctly, I believe dandelion tea is very good for fluid retention in—"

"I'm not pregnant, you little imp!"

Sonata's eyes grew wide. Her lips drew in tight. Slowly, she retook her seat.

"Oh," she squeaked. Instinctively reaching out toward a nearby empty saucer, she then pushed the plate toward the Duchess. "Biscuit?"

The thing nearly tumbled off of the table amidst her delirium. Lady Adagio's face drew up into a confused and slightly frightened sneer as she stared from the empty dish to Sonata's hysterical expression.

"Dear Bullion, Lighthoof has left me in the care of a madmare," she muttered below her breath.

Drawing the deepest of breaths, Sonata's mouth didn't quite open again as much as it unhinged itself, and fell ajar.

"I... I just assumed that you and Prance were running because... well... you know."

This statement seemed to make the Duchess ease back into her seat. Her brow crinkled as she stared at Sonata, not in anger, but in contemplation. Lips trembling, it seemed as if it was taking all of her strength to work up the mettle to speak. After a moment, she sighed, and shook her head.

"I... I don't think I am able, actually," she divulged, now looking rather melancholy. Sonata blinked.

"To run? Oh, but Your Grace, you must! If the Duke were to catch you now, then—"

"To bear foals. I... I don't suspect that I can have them."

Their eyes locked.

"B... but that cannot be," Sonata snorted as if the idea itself were ludicrous. This garnered yet another perturbed look from the noble mare.

"And why not?" the Lady probed.

"Well, because, Your Grace, you are... well, you are perfect. You're everything a noble lady should be. Everypony knows that." Sonata knew she was sounding horrible by the scathing air now gathering about Lady Adagio's face; yet, she just couldn't stop her mouth. "Surely there must be some mistake."

When she heard the Lady sigh, and watched as she moved away from the table to stand near the fireplace, Sonata gazed down into her empty cup, feeling very much ashamed of herself. She decided that perhaps it would be best to leave the lovely unicorn to her own devices. Still, some large part of her could not resist the urge to at least attempt an apology first.

"I'm sorry, My Lady. It was a foolish thing to—"

"Have you ever felt torn between wanting something, and wanting its complete antithesis?" the Lady inquired gently, her eyes never straying from the flickering fire. Sonata, at first stunned by these words, and then subsequently confused, forced herself to ponder on the question for a moment.

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand what it is you mean, Your Gr—"

"Adagio," the Duchess corrected her, sternly this time.

"A-Adagio," Sonata stammered with a quick nod.

There was a beat of silence during which Sonata could have sworn that she witnessed the Duchess silently fall apart only to quickly put herself back together again. The unicorn let off a ragged breath.

"Part of me wanted so badly for things not to have concluded with him in this manner."

Sonata's brow furrowed.

"But Prance is most certainly—"

"With the Duke, I mean," the Lady clarified, her eyes momentarily going soft. "Once upon a time, I wanted to make him happy. I would do anything for him if only he should ask it of me. If there were even the smallest chance that it would make me grand in his eyes, I swear to you, I would do it. And all for the hope that he might show me a little more affection, a little less frigidity, be a little more free."

Her voice trailed off, and her eyes closed. She shook her head, perhaps to ring it free of delusions that she now knew were untenable.

"All he cares for is adhering to his duties. 'An heir, an heir. By Bullion, when shall you give me an heir, Miss?'" Adagio scoffed, purposely mocking the Duke's deep and regal vocal. "Could you fathom that at first I thought that sort of life was tolerable? When we were first married, all I desired was the comfort and power that his title could provide for me. But in the end..."

The Duchess shook her head.

"Duties, indeed. I imagine it would have made him quite happy if I could do as he did, and live up to mine. Alas, I came to see that the one thing he and his realm demanded of me most, the one thing that would make him feel complete... is the one thing that I could never give him."

The unicorn straightened out her shoulders, and stood tall. Raising her chin, she huffed with an air of authority.

"Thus, I went looking for what I suspected I was missing somewhere else... and found it in Lighthoof. More so than I could have ever hoped for. I love him; I do. And yet, some part of me still wishes so very badly for things to have been different. Some part of me still wants to believe that there was something... somepony for me at Goldenstalks manor."

Her head finally turned about so that she might look at Sonata. Her eyes seemed to plead for her understanding.

"I don't know why it is that I'm telling you all of this. It is all rather perplexing, yes?"

The entire time she had been listening to the Duchess, Sonata couldn't help but feel that floating below her somber tale was a notion that she did in fact understand quite well.

"It isn't confusing at all," she began. "I feel that way all of the time. I've spent years tending to my parents' farm whilst they were away, sending them funding for their upkeep, which was very difficult to obtain, mind you. Life would undoubtedly be far easier if they were home, and I do miss them both very much, indeed."

Sonata's hoof wandered upward to tap against her lip.

"And yet, sometimes when I wake up in the morning, I become aware of what it sounds like for nopony to be yelling, nopony is scolding me. I actually get to eat the pies and cakes that I bake."

The earth mare seemed blithely unaware of the expression of cheer that had slowly begun working its way across her own face. However, what she also did not seem to notice was the troubled look now spreading across the Duchess'.

"I can hear the earth clearly, and even though things are difficult, things are still good. That's when I begin to wish that they would stay away just a day longer. Always just one more day."

Sonata looked down at the floor. Guilt had descended upon her like a brick.

"Part of me wonders whether I keep sending them the money because I know that they require it, or because I know that they shall have the means to stay away longer if I do." Her eyes trailed upward to meet the Lady's. They glistened in the firelight. "But I do miss them. I really do."

There was another silence, quite heavy and drawn out. The two mares seemed to study each other deeply. For a moment, there was a flash of something between them, very faint, but profound enough to make them both jump back into awareness.

The Duchess shot a sly grin in Sonata's direction.

"You make good company, Sonata. Now I understand what Lighthoof sees in you."

The earth mare beamed.

"Well, I suppose that is good! Better late than never, yes?"

The Lady smirked, and turned again to face the fire.

"Indeed. And to think, I always just assumed you were some sort of blithering idiot."

"What?" Sonata squawked.

"Yes, the type of adorable, brainless mare who accidentally wins the heart of everypony she comes into contact with," the Duchess continued.

Sonata tapped her hooves together. Failing to stave off a guilty smile, she tried to recall, to no avail, whether or not she had received any marriage proposals that day.

"I'm not brainless," she whined.

Adagio seemed to catch her quip.

"I despised you at first," the Lady hissed.

These words, so filled with venom, made Sonata shrink back into her seat.

"I hated you for not only being beautiful, and for having a beautiful voice. I hated you for the freedom that you possessed, the freedom that, until now, I had always been afraid to claim for myself. I remembered you once from childhood when I saw you singing atop those boxes in the Greenwaters market. You seemed so happy. Your joy was contagious, and your liberty..."

The Duchess shook her head once again.

"The way you were allowed such intimate contact with the Duke and his family seemed so unfair. Why should one have the privilege of noble company without the due sacrifice of their own freedoms and desires? Yet, still, for years, every time I would pay a visit, there you'd be alongside Lighthoof. Utterly confounding. When we finally came of age, I was always quite certain that you had been the reason the Duke could not love me enough."

It took a moment for Sonata to catch onto what the Duchess was implying, but when she did, she scoffed as if it were the funniest joke in the world.

"Wait a moment. You thought the Duke... and I?"

She guffawed, and after a long time, her laugh began to take on a mocking quality, one that proved to agitate the Lady.

"And why not?" the yellow mare snapped, finally spinning about, her eyes ablaze. "A pretty country mare, full of life, and perhaps a bit of ambition, with a voice that brings joy to everypony who should hear it. Always catching you alone with him at odd hours of the day and night. What is so shocking about concluding what I had? And surely some pretty, little, provincial pony such as yourself has had endless practice with—"

"Your Grace!" Sonata shrieked, hooves pressed firmly against her cheeks. "I would never!"

"Oh, don't pretend to be so innocent either, you little... bird," Lady Adagio hissed, plopping down to sit, and placing her hooves upon her sides. "It would have been so easy. Admit it! You should admit to me that I had a right to worry! Do it!"

"No!" Sonata sassed, completely forgetting her decorum in the noble's presence. Her tongue jutted out viciously, too fast to give her time to recall just whom it was she was sticking her tongue out toward.

"Oh, thear," she sputtered whilst watching the Duchess' expression grow incensed.

"Did you just tell me 'no,' little imp?" the Lady trilled, getting up to her hooves again.

Sonata drew back, quite sure that a few of her dolls would soon come sailing across the room toward her head.

"Well, what else should one think when they walk into their husband's study first thing in the morning to find some mare straightening out her hems in his presence, hm?"

Sonata thought to herself again. That scene from months ago replayed itself in her head, once how it really happened, and the next how Lady Adagio might have witnessed it. Her eyes went wide.

"Ohhh... Oh... Oh, dear."

"Quite right," the Lady clucked with a vindictive nod of the head. "Always smiling and bouncing about the manor, canarying your disgustingly happy, little field pony canticles in his face."

"But My Lady, I've never sung for the Duke in private," Sonata rebutted. "Only the former Lord and Lady. Maybe a guest or two, and much of it happened in your presence."

Lady Adagio seemed to study her, still looking quite skeptical.

"Yes, well, I suppose. Upright never was one for songs, was he?"

Sonata smiled, and shook her head. In all actuality, she was trying her best not to giggle at the mention of the Duke's name.

It seemed that the Lady, again, was able to read her mind. At once, Sonata feared that the unicorn might lash out in anger.

"Well, not everypony in the world can possess such glorious names as we, can they?" the Duchess laughed. Gradually, the amused look upon her face became quite pensive. "Hmm. Sonata. How did you say you came by that name? Did your parents gift it to you for your love of song?"

Sonata shrugged, and shook her head.

"No, Miss. No one gave it to me. I've always just sort of known that Sonata Dusk was my name. Ever since the beach—"

Lady Adagio's eyes went wide. She spun about to stare at Sonata.

"W-what did you say?" she breathed.

"Nopony gave me my name," the earth mare repeated, sounding quite proud of herself. "I've always been Sonata Dusk. Ever since I woke up on the beach in—"

"A beach, you say?" the Duchess blurted again.

Sonata apprehensively shook her head, now certain that the Lady looked as if she might faint. The unicorn's hind legs gave way, and she came plopping back down onto the floor.

"This memory of the beach... That wouldn't happen to be your earliest recollection, would it?"

Now, Sonata's expression grew wary. She wondered what significance this fact could possibly hold.

"Why, yes. Yes, it is. But why do you ask, My—Adagio?"

The golden mare said nothing at first, seeming far too stunned to reply. Eventually, after gazing about the room in a daze, her eyes again landed upon Sonata.

"This is my earliest recollection as well. Waking up on a beach on the shores by the Glow Estate."

"You mean, you aren't a Glow?" Sonata gasped. "I always wondered why it was that you looked so different from the rest of them! I just supposed it was some sort of fluke!"

"No, no. My full name is Adagio Dazzle. That was the name I remembered as well."

As the Lady spoke, an eerie feeling began to encapsulate Sonata. It was similar to the flash that snapped between them earlier, except this time it was stronger, more lingering.

"That and something else," Lady Adagio continued. "Something I can barely remember now. It was like some sort of—"

"Melody," Sonata interjected. "A melody was in my ears as well. But the words... I can't seem to remember them anymore... My Lady... how..."

Her voice trailed off into nothingness. They both sat there, stark still. Tempered breathing was the only sound that broke the silence of the room.

"Sonata," the Duchess began, her voice barely above a whisper, "do... do things ever happen whilst you sing, sometimes subtle, sometimes not? Things that you didn't suppose should happen so perfectly timed... Strange things."

Slowly, Sonata's jaw dropped open as she tried to put words together, but before she could, a sudden rustling of leaves came from somewhere outside in the yard. The sound shook both mares from their shared entrancement. Purpose and drive instantly overtaking them, they quickly leapt to their hooves. Adagio trotted over to the window to pull the shades a little more whilst Sonata hurried to make sure that the main door was locked.

"We should put out the fire," Sonata quavered. But before she could rush over to the small pail of water sitting by the fireside, Lady Adagio had already gone to scoop it up in her magic.

"Go and inspect the lock on the other door," the unicorn commanded. "I shall tend to this."

Nodding her head, Sonata raced off toward the kitchen. When she arrived there, she immediately drew the curtains, and checked the back door's lock. It was still closed, thank goodness.

With a sigh of relief, she turned about to face the hearth. Noticing that the embers therein were still red, she moved to go pour some more water into the pot that hung above it, and then plopped it down onto the heat. Surely she could get at least one more teapot full of hot water out of this. After all that had just happened, she could certainly use another few cups of tea.

The stillness surrounded her as the firelight coming from the main room died down to nothing. Left in near darkness with just a few hearth embers and slivers of moonlight to brighten the space, Sonata found herself again wandering off into her own thoughts.

How curious it was that she and Lady Goldenstalks might not only share such similar origins but talents as well. Yet, still, the Duchess' previous question worked to unnerve her.

Strange happenings, indeed.

Why, Sonata's entire life had seemed made up of strange happenings and coincidences. But what did that have to do with her songs? Did the Lady know something she didn't? Perhaps this was why she had wanted her to remain a singer at Glow Hall where she could keep an eye on her like she had said before.

Something began to make her feel anxious. Sonata couldn't quite put her hoof on what it was. Granted, there was much to be anxious about this evening, but besides Echo and Silent's late night rampage, and the Duchess poking about her messy home, there was something far larger and yet far more subtle lurking beneath the surface. It felt old and familiar. It nagged her, calling to her in words she couldn't understand.

She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. Immediately, a flash of undulating blue appeared in her mind's eye, bobbing up and down as if to create a foundation for a melody. The picture became clearer, and as it did, a smile creased her lips. Those bobbing waters, soon enough, took on a familiar rhythm. She recognized this one. It was her prayer to the youngest alicorn sister, the song she had sung months ago before her first time taking the stage at Glow Hall. Interestingly enough, after that evening she had not felt the need to sing the tune again. Why was it popping up now?

"Nerves," Sonata mumbled without even hearing herself. She felt the wellspring in her mind beginning to open up, and soon, a wonderfully calming feeling overtook her. In the stillness, it took shape, loomed over her, and enveloped her in an embrace. For some reason, her fur felt cold and wet, but as that old, hovering thing wrapped itself tighter, the sensation turned into a comforting one as familiar to her as she assumed a mother's touch should be.

Be still, be still, ye unsettled mind,
When dark becomes the day.
Those yonder wide and worrisome hills,
Shall recede, shall make way.

The words were the same as when she had first sung them, and yet came more beautifully than they ever had before. They carried with them more meaning now, and as she sang, for the first time she couldn't help but feel as if she had not thought of such wonderful words herself. Every part of her now felt that something—grand, and old, and ever present—had whispered them in her ear.

The moon, she follows e'er over your shoulder,
Watching, lighting each small step.

That tiny, internal voice continued on, growing ever louder until Sonata swore it began to take form. Steadily, the sound of that second voice drew her from her deep reverie, and when she glanced again upon her darkened cookery, there Lady Adagio stood, streaked in moonlight, singing along with her as if she'd known the song all her life.

Bless me then, all shadow and shade.
I'll make you my own home.
And blessed child born in sweetness of night,
See that I don't walk alone.

There was something about the Lady’s bell-like voice that drew Sonata in. Naturally, Lady Adagio being herself, this was to be expected, but yet again, it was a feeling stronger than anything else the earth mare had ever experienced before. It was almost as if the noble mare had used her voice to reach through the space between them, and draw Sonata’s own out. Barely another short moment had passed before she found her melody rising up to twist and intermingle with the Lady’s. They harmonized together beautifully, reinforcing the notion that this was the only way the song should have ever been sung.

For rocky, uncertain lies my road,
But my courage faileth not when you're near me.
Stay near me. Know my heart, child born of midnight,
Please bring peace to these shadows.

And just like that, the song was finished. The two mares’ voices trailed off slowly, almost defiantly as if something vital were being wrenched away from them. However, to their astonishment, when they went quiet, what should have been silence seemed anything but. The air was full, trembling, and pregnant. The weight of something new bore down heavily upon them both, and they could see it in each others' eyes.

Sonata was hit by a powerful sense of familiarity, one so strong that she could smell it. It made her nose sting, and her mind buzz. Images of something shiny like diamonds that glided as gracefully as a ribbon in the air flashed before her mind's eye. There was something forcing its way up her throat, something she couldn't hold back, and didn't have time to try making sense of. When the new words came, they came of their own volition, madly but altogether magnificent, and in perfect tandem with Lady Adagio's.

Timeless Lady born of moonlight and silver,
And midnight beams in cerulean.
Oh, Sister who once danced alongside me,
Through the deep and boundless,
There in the moonlight.

It was almost like retching except that it felt and sounded euphoric. A charged tremor lingered in the air between them as the melody finally faded away to nothing. Their smiles, both immensely confused but equally pleased, seemed to communicate to the other what they no longer had words for. That feeling of some odd connection between them stayed strong, and now it was yearning to be addressed. It was Lady Adagio whose brow crinkled first. Her lips parted slowly as she seemed quite unsure of what to say.

"Sonata... who...what is that song about?" she inquired. The expression on her face said clearly that she didn't completely understand what she was asking.

"I... I thought it was a prayer to the child miracle, little Luna," Sonata stammered, visions of blue, and wet, and dark still flashing across her mind. "But, now I'm not so certain."

There was a beat of silence.

"My Lady, may I ask you a question?"

Sonata could see the yellow mare visibly gulp before she slowly nodded her head.

"You knew that song before you ever heard me sing it, didn't you?"

It took a second, but Lady Adagio's head soon bobbed up and down once again. The two edged closer to one another, studying reflections of identical dreams in each others' eyes. She watched the Duchess' chest heave. The yellow mare looked confused as to why a single tear had chosen that moment to fall from her eye.

"Another question, My Lady," Sonata breathed, her own eyes beginning to water, though she did not know why. "Are you as parched as I am? Dirt, I could drink an entire bucket of tea, I could."

It was the Lady who then broke out into the most lighthearted of laughter. The tension seemed broken as she took a few steps toward the blue mare who was still looking very much dumbfounded. There was no warning before she gathered the younger pony up into a comforting hug. She smiled whilst sniffing away stale tears.

"Silly little imp," she chuckled to herself. "Whatever shall become of you?"

It took a moment for Sonata's mind to stop reeling, but when it did, she too began to giggle, lightly at first, and then louder, joyously.

These sounds of happiness were brought to an abrupt end as a sudden crash came from outside of the kitchen window. The spell was broken between them, and again the two mares were cast into stillness. A feeling of dread traveled up Sonata's spine when she realized that she recognized the grim and mocking laugh that had now begun to seep in from behind the curtain.

"Oh, Spirits, no," she breathed just as the shutters burst open, and a strong gust of wind ripped through the room. Two grand, stark white wings poured forth through the window's frame. When they had retracted, a pair of cold, silver jewels gleamed in their direction.

"Tweet tweet, little songbirds," Echo Hum snarled, resting her head upon her hooves on the window sill. "It would seem that I have found you."

Author's Note

It is my fervent hope that Adagio and Sonata's duet in this chapter made you cry :twilightsmile: :
'Through the Shadows (Prayer to Luna)'

Time Out - Prodigy

Somewhere, hidden in a silent place, there is a dark room. This room lays covered with the trinkets and trappings of lands unknown, eras long past, and ages yet to come. All of these items are shiny and new as if the rigors of time had yet to touch them.

In the center of this room, contrasting with the ageless hoard that surrounds it, stands a tall, ornate mirror. Its gilding is cracked, and its base wood is warped with age. Yet, its glass is pristine, clear as fresh water.

The ancient piece is definitively the most regal and ominous of the collection. Approaching this glass giant, one could almost hear it hum with life. To the touch it is warm, and nearly pulses beneath its ornamentation like living flesh. Indeed, in this eerie place, it is the one thing that seems to watch over all.

The glass glows and widens. It lets off a low, buzzing yawn as the light expands. The darkness retreats in reverence as the ancient relic belches up one shining arm, then a leg, a torso, and soon a whole body is brought forward into the stillness. Its glass recedes, and again the giant sleeps behind a black-clad, human body.

—-

The figure took one step forward, and nearly fell. His legs shook with nerve. Every sensory feature upon his face was in some state of swollen blue or black. Sniffing what tasted like blood into the back of his throat, he tried again. One foot forward, then the next, in the direction of the small doorway ahead of him. Stumbling through the threshold, the space opened up into a more expansive room. Like the last, the walls were black, so much so that they appeared to not exist at all. On one side of the room hung two enormous, gilded cages, styled as if meant for inconceivably large canaries. The opposite wall contained only a sparse living space, more modern in appearance than the contents of the room which contained the mirror. It included a couch, a recliner, coffee table, lamp, and rug. To the side of this area was another hallway that pushed deeper into somewhere unseen.

At the front of the space sat a sizeable, black desk, curved into a large crescent shape. It was strewn with all manners of machinery, gadgets, books, and notes. Once reaching it, the figure braced himself, plopped down into a large swivel chair, and finally released the breath he had been holding. His purple ringed eyes closed. For a moment, all was still and dark.

A spark of gold flashed in the dim. His hand raised, and with index finger pointed before him, he traced into the air a large circle. The light that trailed his finger cut into the space like a knife, filling the entire shape with a bright light. Pressing his palm into its center, he pushed into the circle. When he drew his hand back, the shape was gone, and in its place appeared something resembling a round window that looked out into a dark forest.

Shifting and zooming into this image with twists and turns of his hand, he honed into the grand, gray castle that could now be seen looming over a grassy ledge amidst tall trees and snaking vines. Drawing in his fingers, the image changed once more to show a dim room, torchlit and made of cold stone. A long workbench laden with relics, tomes, and other ancient artifacts came into view. At the end of the table stood a grand, glowing mirror, a younger, more regal replica of the one he had stepped through a few moments prior.

—-

Upon a cushion at the side of this long table sat an elderly, gray unicorn. He was clad all in purple, bells, and stars. Though aged and quite tired-looking, a jovial spark seemed to shimmer in his eyes as he gazed toward a little, blue-gray unicorn colt who was currently busying himself with running 'round the table.

"Did you see? Did you see it, Uncle? I opened it all by myself that time!"

The old one chuckled, covering his mouth with a hoof when the laugh turned into a raspy cough.

"Yes, yes, Starshot. Well done! Now, settle down so that we might continue."

"Alright, alright," the young one whined, trotting once more about the table to take his seat before his elder. When he did, the old one reached forward, and used both of his shaking forelegs to draw the colt closer. The look in his golden eyes had grown quite serious.

"Now that you have mastered opening and closing the portal alone, young one, it is imperative that I give you the same warning that I give to all of my students."

"But Uncle, your only other student is the princess!"

"Semantics," the old one coughed, waving his hoof. "Listen to me, Starshot. The dimensional time portal is not to be taken lightly. It is a tool, yes, but one that I suspect and recommend should rarely, if ever, be used. These exercises are primarily for the advancement of magical knowledge. I have chosen to share this knowledge with you because you have shown great prowess in the area."

The colt smiled, his horn beams with glee.

"However," the elder continued, his brow creasing, "prowess and ability do not stand for everything. Neither are they what is most important when dealing with something as fragile as the fabric of space and time. Responsibility is key. During the course of your life, Starshot, you shall experience many conundrums, and witness many disasters which you might be inclined to believe would easily be solved with the use of time magic. To presume this would be the greatest of folly."

The elder unicorn rose, and walked over to stand before the mirror which had now begun to glow even brighter.

"On the contrary, in your pursuit of simple solutions by way of time magic, you shall more than likely upset the very fabric of time itself, not only bringing greater calamity upon those lives you were attempting to save, but upon all life, in all times."

As the old one peered into the mirror in a trance-like state, the colt cautiously moved to sit by his side. The two became haloed in ebullient blue.

"That is why when you travel through the mirror, you must vow to keep your interactions at a minimum, change nothing unless it should blatantly spare the lives of all in Equestria, and bring back only that which shall not be missed. Things that are in great quantity or ancient rubbish are both acceptable. Do you understand?"

The elder's eyes fell upon the colt once more. The little one appeared quite shaken, rather nervous. He nodded his head, and gulped down a lump that had caught in his throat.

"Very good," the old one murmured. His wrinkled face then curled and creased into a mischievous grin. "Now, then, where shall it be today?"

The colt smiled, and bounced in his spot.

"Oh! May we go to the place where the music comes out of those giant, golden horns, Uncle Star Swirl?"

The old unicorn's eyes went equally as wide.

"Excellent choice, indeed! I'd been meaning to catch a glimpse of that contraption again," he chuckled, nudging the colt toward the mirror. "Very well. Only, this time you shall direct us."

Starshot looked totally apprehensive to this idea.

"We've gone over these particular refractive coordinates a million times. There is nothing to fear, and I shall be right on your tail," the old wizard added, giving the young one a reassuring pat on the back.

Starshot nodded, managing to muster up a determined look. His little horn began to glow in that same sandy-gold hue, and at once, the light that the mirror was emitting began to shift colors.

"Very good, young colt. Let's be off, then!" Star Swirl shouted before hustling the young one forward into the light. Shoving his hat down firmly upon his head, he then jumped in after him. The cheery howl he emitted lingered on in the stony room long after they had taken their leave, and the mirror's light again dimmed to nothing.

—-

With a twist of the figure's wrist, the image within the golden circle changed. The same room could be seen, and the two figures reappeared, but now they both seemed to have aged significantly.

—-

"...And no exaggeration is made when it is said that right now is the greatest time in which you, as a traveler, could possibly hope to be alive, except of course, that in the case of a wielder of time and dimensional magics, the "right now" is semi-sempiternal. It exists wherever—or whenever—he or she chooses to. This notion, of course, lays separate from the fact that these countless "nows" do not belong to the one who is traversing through them. On the contrary, they belong to the traveler's double who is native to that particular time and place. For the traveling counterpart, any "now" besides his or her own present is merely borrowed."

Scratching his white maned head with one old, gray hoof, Star Swirl caught up a piece of chalk into his magic. He then began to scrawl figures and shapes onto an enormous board that stood erected behind him.

"The only hindrance to the boundless abilities that open themselves up to this hypothetical traveler would be the pesky matter of mortal existence. Quite an interesting conundrum, really, since it would imply an unmoldable element of the effects of time outside of the wielder's own abilities. Therefore"—The old gray unicorn began to chuckle, finding his own ramblings enthralling—"though much remains to be studied about this phenomena, I still tend to accept the theory that the one element, the one constant that the traveler cannot mold is the effect of time upon a normally living and normally aging, mortal body."

Star Swirl, lost in the thrill of his philosophy, grinned brightly whilst motioning toward a smudged etching upon the otherwise packed board full of theoretical equations, diagrams, and notes. Momentarily breaking from his own self indulgent reverie, he glanced toward a lone teenage unicorn sitting before him at a large desk. The blue-gray colt was currently leaning upon one hoof whilst glaring down at a stack of papers. His horn glowed sandy-gold as a thin, sharpened piece of charcoal danced tirelessly across the top page. At the sight of this apparent lack of enthusiasm, Star Swirl raised a brow, but carried on anyway.

"Nevertheless, the "now" perpetually hums with possibility. It is the clay from which the future can be molded and the past can be understood. Indeed, the present is the axis from which every variable of time and space projects."

He took another peek at the gray colt before him. If it weren't for the student's ceaseless scribblings, and the lack of yawning, Star Swirl would doubt that he was even paying attention.

"Starshot, have you heard anything that I've said?" the old one inquired, now looking quite perturbed.

The teenager's eyes shot up. A few sheets of paper slipped out of his magic and onto the floor. He quickly dashed down to retrieve them.

"S-surely, Uncle. I'm listening!"

The elder unicorn gave the youth a withering glare. At once, the colt rolled his eyes and sighed. Picking up the top two slips of paper in his magic, he allowed them to hover directly in front of his face.

"Traveler cannot alter his or herself within his own present, implying that the traveler cannot alter his or her own lifespan or that of any other living creature as long as they are neither ill nor severely injured." He flipped a page. "The "now" is the axis from which past and future events all project. Experimentation should be—"

"Alright. Very good," Star Swirl interjected, tapping an impatient hoof against the stone flooring. Still, the skeptical smirk refused to fade from his face. "I take it you're not really one for philosophical musings, are you, young colt?"

"No, not exactly, Uncle," Starshot stated outright, passing the aged unicorn an apologetic grin. The old one, surprisingly, returned the smile.

"Very well. Then let us jump a bit more into theory, shall we?"

The colt's eyes immediately brightened. His tail swished to and fro as he watched Star Swirl casually walk toward the board, again pick up the piece of chalk in his magic, and draw a dot in a blank space. To the left of the dot, the wizard drew one, extended line. To the right, he drew many more, protruding outward from the dot like endless octopus legs. Seeing this, the colt eagerly bent over a fresh sheet of paper, and began to copy it all down.

"Continuing on from our previous lesson in Ethical Practices and Safety, we accept that the present is a constant axis when considering the past and future. However, both the past and future tend to act in very different ways in spacetime. Now, the impractical and unethical traveler sees all time as something to potentially be changed at will. The practical and ethical traveler, however, views the past, even one second ago, as forevermore untouchable. Do you remember why this is, Starshot?"

"Because to assume otherwise would be to put the constant of one's own present and future at risk, as well as that of all other present life," the colt replied without hesitation.

Star Swirl noted the inkling of a perturbed grimace upon the young one's face.

"Correct. And why is that?"

"Because the past, having already taken place, is confined to a single thread of time. Simply put, in our plane, we, the traveler, already know and have lived the events that have happened, and have become who we are as present travelers because of them. Whereas the threads and possibilities for the future are endless since we have yet to live it, the alternate possibilities for the past no longer exist if the traveler wishes to safeguard his or her own current constant, which would be his or her own present."

"Excellent, Starshot," Star Swirl stated.

The agitated look on the colt's face became even more noticeable.

"But, Uncle, I thought you said that we had finished talking about philosoph—"

"By Celestia, are you mad?" the old unicorn exclaimed, his eyes going wide. "Time and space magic theory cannot exist apart from ethical practices! I should know; I invented it! Trust me, Starshot, it is far too delicate a thing to ignore."

The colt nodded reverently though his expression remained stern and steadfast.

"I understand, Uncle."

Hearing this, Star Swirl turned again to face the board, his chalk lifted.

"Now, then—"

"But, then you accept that your theory is ultimately incorrect," Starshot interjected.

A hush came over the dimly lit room. The old one seemed frozen in place before, slowly, he turned to gaze upon the colt. The look on his face was grim and impatient. With one hoof, he began to stroke his long, white beard, waiting for his student to continue.

"About the past being a singular, untouchable line, I mean; it really is not. It is made of many, all of them changeable. The only reason you say that they are not is because... weeell, because to the traveler"—Starshot dared not point any hoof or horn toward his uncle—"it might seem... frightening?"

The chalk in Star Swirl's magic dropped onto the floor as the old one began to approach the colt. With the lighting of the room the way it was, and his uncle's current temperament, Starshot noted that the aged unicorn had taken on a rather intimidating air.

"B... because he or she might fear change, particularly to that of the known comforts and familiarity of their own present," the young one powered on gallantly. Star Swirl was almost upon him now. The colt recoiled slightly, but ardently pressed on, never allowing his voice to quaver. "But you must cede, Uncle, that if we were to relinquish our attachments to our own present, and accept it as whatever it shall be after the traveler molds the past, then yet another world of possibilities opens up!"

"Starshot..." the old one growled, his creaky voice filled with disappointment.

"Hear me, Uncle!" Starshot pleaded, acknowledging that he was already in trouble, and figuring that it might as well be for good reason. "Imagine what good could come of it! And the only one who would be any the wiser about these alterations would be the traveler him or herself. To allow easily preventable calamities to remain simply because the traveler, the sole individual with the power to fix them, could not foresee them before they took place, and is afraid of what his or her present would become if he or she were to travel back to alter them is—"

"That's enough, Starshot," the elder one groaned.

"Uncle, please! You are the only pony who holds the ability to stop evils like those roaming succubi. They are tearing Equestria apart bit by unforeseen bit! You know that nopony is able to successfully wield a magic anywhere near them in order to defeat them. Yet, you refuse to go back to stop them before their rampage begins. Why? Because you're afraid that when you return, your... I don't know...your hat might no longer exist?"

One worn, gray hoof slammed down upon Starshot's desk, upsetting his papers, and stunning him into silence. His gaze trailed a path from the hoof, up toward Star Swirl's livid eyes. The colt gulped, and set his jaw defiantly.

Starshot had long since been privy to the endless legends and tales about his great uncle, the famed wizard, Star Swirl the Bearded. Indeed, he had been listening to these stories ever since he was born. Then again, when one was known for having helped end the centuries old division between the pony races, as well as having put the two, ageless alicorn sisters upon the throne, it could be safely assumed that one would be spoken about forever. Of course, by the time Starshot had been born, those tales of inter-tribal strife and unpredictable spirit kings had long since become nothing more than legend.

They were all living in a new era of chaos and strife now, an age far more subtle in its miseries than that which the old ponies remembered of their youths lived during the end of Discord's reign. In those old tales, his uncle had been young—well, younger—and better equipped to help deal with the overbearing problems of the day. But now, the famed unicorn wizard was old. Not too old, but aged enough that it had become apparent to everypony, himself included, that he was now living on borrowed time. Every new year that the old stallion now greeted was seen by all as an astonishment since it was always assumed that he did not have much longer for this world. Maybe all of those other ponies had a point. Then again, being just old enough to acknowledge the stubbornness that ran in his family, Starshot had decided that he would not be surprised if the old codger stuck it out for one or two more decades, just to have the last laugh. Even now, despite his creaking joints and wrinkled face, anypony who looked at him could still see the life shining within those mischievous eyes of his.

And yet, still, chaos and negativity, those tireless adversaries, seemed to rumble on from age to age as fresh and energetic as ever. Before the undisputed rule of the two sisters, these woes had been dispensed upon pony-kind at the claws of Discord, the spirit of chaos. Having spent long nights musing on what those old days were like, Starshot couldn't help but feel that for all the confusion and strife the "mad king" had wrought upon the land, it was still not to be compared to the terror that now currently plagued Equestria. This terror came at the mysterious, unseen clutches of a newer foe, a foe that everypony knew only as "the Sirens".

The name itself was old, meaning "to bind, to ensnare," in one of the ancient languages, now lost. Indeed, these lurking menaces were very old as well. No one knew how old or why they had mysteriously appeared, but to any common, superstitious pony, they simply seemed hatched from the vengeful recesses of dark energy's mind. Nopony could say for sure what they looked like; they always took on different form, and by the time anypony recognized them for what they were, it was far too late to attempt to stop them. Very few had ever seen their true forms. Then again, very few had survived encounters with the Sirens in their true forms to leave their presence with their sanity—and occasionally vital organs—intact. A few military campaigns launched against the beasts had been completely destroyed by the enchantresses' abilities to control minds and will. Many more had simply disappeared, never to return. Only a hooful of common sailors who, every now and then, happened to catch a glimpse of something glistening, beautiful, and swift beneath the surface of the evening seas, had survived to tell the tale of what the Sirens truly looked like. There were also a few shaken pegasi wanderers who, from time to time, descended to the earth in a state of shock, mumbling about something indescribable soaring beyond a distant cloud.

During the time of Discord's reign, the Sirens' workings had all either gone completely undetected or had been written off as the doings of the mad king, himself. One thing no one ever seemed to call into question, however, was how very careful and spiteful the Sirens' havoc was. Discord, at least, had not been known for his subtlety. He was proud of his chaos, brash and delighted by his prowess in finding new ways to turn the known world upside down. When the mad king moved, it was without rhyme or reason. He wrought destruction as absent-mindedly as one might pick a field flower, and his attention to his endless fancy for meaningless absurdity was always eventually drawn away like a leaf blowing in the wind.

The Sirens, however, worked much differently. Indeed, they were a foe most chilling to the core. Their energy, when detected, never seemed to come from madness or pure chaos for the enjoyment of it; it was something far more vindictive, vengeful, hungry. These creatures who tore down the world vicariously, through those they would play like puppets, had a vicious plan and a voracious appetite. They hungered not only for chaos, but for animosity, hatred, and rage. When they moved, it was carefully, quietly, enticingly. In their wake, they would leave tears, strife, and destruction.

Their touch upon Equestria, now that Discord had been vanquished, was widely noticeable, and yet, utterly untraceable. Everypony knew what they did, but could never detect when or why it would be done. Their elusive songs had echoed in the ether day and night for well over five centuries now. Thus, it was not surprising that the currently living generations in Equestria, Starshot's included, had grown up in a culture where it seemed normal for a pony to question whether their personal negative feelings or actions had ever actually been their own, or the workings of beings far more nefarious.

This was now the way of the world, and as the number of divisions, battles, mind sicknesses, and deaths steadily increased day by day, Starshot could not help but grow resentful of his great uncle's hesitancy to intervene. Of course, it would not be possible for the old wizard to address every problem that was sure to come about, considering his age, but perhaps this was why he had chosen to begin training Starshot in order to hone his skill with time and dimensional magic.

The princesses were far too busy with the matters of the present state of affairs within their territories to steadily worry about stopping those unseen calamities that had not yet come to pass. However, Starshot was no ruler. He was a unicorn born of gifted and brilliant heritage, one who knew that when he came of age, he would be free to travel and study as he saw fit, be it in this spacetime existence or another. As much as he hated to admit getting any pleasure from the thought, he also acknowledged that when the old unicorn's life came to an end, it would be he who would take up the reigns as the most prolific wizard of time and dimensional magic alive.

Still, the idea of disobeying his uncle's warnings filled the colt with guilt. After all, out of the two ponies in all existence whom the old one had entrusted with such knowledge, he had chosen Starshot to be one of them. Certainly this was because he knew that he could be trusted.

Still, the colt found that, lately, he often had to remind himself of how much he really did admire his great uncle, and loved him very much, even if the old one sometimes seemed far too adamant about keeping him in line. He tried to keep these factors in mind as he now watched the old wizard snatch his notes up into his magic, and begin sifting through them.

"It pains me to do this, my dear nephew; truly it does," the old one said whilst taking note of one specific sheet of paper, and pulling it from the stack, "but you give me no other choice."

At once, he tore the sheet to shreds.

"Uncle! What are you doing?" Starshot gasped.

"I am trying to help you," Star Swirl added, pulling a few more sheets he had found unsatisfactory, and destroying them as well. "Trust me, Starshot, this is for your own good."

"B-but... my notes!"

"When the entire universe has become a thing that we can mold at will, there can be no room for slip ups, deviations, or dissent. Starshot, I am sorry, but I do have complete confidence that in time, you shall come to see that I am right about this."

The colt felt anger boiling up inside of him as he watched the shreds of his own personal theories and studies falling to the floor like so many bits of snowflake. Trying, to no avail, to stave off his tempered breath, he attempted to fumble for words, instead. The old one beat him to them.

"You may be excused for the afternoon."

Sighing out a mix of relief and irritation, Starshot bowed respectfully, snatched up his remaining papers, and without another word, stomped out of Star Swirl's study. The wizard watched him go with a sorrowful shake of his head.

—-

The seated figure braced himself. With another wave of those grimey and bloodied gray fingers, the scene within the golden circle changed.

—-

The view was now within a large home, a grand mahogany hallway. A beautiful, sea green earth mare stood before him, gowned and veiled all in white. The blue-gray stallion beside her appeared so ecstatic that he didn't seem to know what to do with himself.

Surely, if he could have anything to do with it, he would see to it that this day, this moment was remembered forever. She would be remembered just like this, forever.

—-

The seated figure smiled briefly, allowing the image to linger before him for only a moment. He then twisted his wrist.

—-

A stage, a grand hall. That lovely, green mare was singing atop of the platform. Adorned in lace and flowers, she was a sight to behold and a delight to the ears. Even as many in the enormous audience listened impatiently, and then began to call for her to quickly finish, her voice never wavered. Her faltering confidence never showed through her facade of courage.

When she descended from the stage to the sound of a few polite hoof stomps, and took her seat next to him, Starshot gave her a lovingly apologetic smile. In an instant, her heart seemed restored. She leaned over to kiss him while the lights again dimmed, and the cheers of the crowd reached fever pitch. Though in the midsts of the fray, for a moment, the loudest sound either of the two ponies could hear was the other one breathing.

"No worries, Cricket, my dear. One day those cheers shall all be for you. I have no doubt of it," Starshot, now grown, stated confidently. The mare giggled, and nudged him playfully in the shoulder.

"And did your uncle foresee that one in the mirror, or did you?" she joked.

"Come now, dear. You know that I'm not permitted to delve into such frivolities. I am simply stating the obvious," Starshot replied with a wink.

In all actuality, the stallion never revealed to his wife, Cricket, that he had practically stopped traveling to future moments from his own life after he had married her. Wanting their entire life together to be one, indescribably lovely surprise, he had made this vow to himself at the same time he had made his vows to her.

"Of course," Cricket laughed, turning toward the stage as she caught a glimpse of orange and a flash of red out of the corner of her eye. "Keep swaying me with those compliments, Starshot, and I foresee all of your favorite dishes for supper this evening."

When a yellow, curly-maned marvel of a mare walked out into center stage, and let loose her first mind-numbingly gorgeous notes, Cricket rose to her hooves, and joined the rest of the crowd in their thunderous cheer.

"Isn't she magnificent?" the green mare sighed when Starshot finally stood up beside her. Equally compelled by the enthralling melody, neither of them seemed able to move their gazes away from the stage. "The mysterious 'Madame Amabile' once again captivates every heart. If only I... If only I could..."

Something in Starshot's chest pulled and struggled with itself. The sudden melancholy in his wife's voice begged for his acknowledgment, and yet, he found that his eyes could not leave the stage. Belting out what was nothing less than sonic perfection, the golden mare atop the platform demanded his attention. His mind fell away just as the raucous of the crowd faded into an eerie hush. There was only the singing mare, and the singing mare was all that seemed to matter.

The trip to the weekly concerts where both Cricket and the mysterious Amabile would perform had quickly become a habitual practice for not only Starshot, but everypony in Canterlot who was fortunate enough to obtain a most coveted ticket. The stallion considered himself lucky. Because Cricket performed on the same stage every week, his entry was always complimentary. However, this feeling of luck would always be overshadowed by guilt when she, Amabile, took to the stage.

The first time he had heard her sing, Starshot wondered if perhaps he had fallen in love with her, this mystery mare who seemed to appear in the grand hall from out of nowhere on the third evening of every week. He would rarely ever see her around town, and indeed, no one seemed to know where she had come from. Something struck him as odd about this until one day, perhaps after his third time hearing her sing, he found that he no longer cared.

The way she moved, the way she gestured with her hooves, or flicked her tail about during her crescendos captivated him. His heart would fill with something both sublime and terrifying when it dawned upon him that within those moments, he belonged only to her. Shame and guilt would overtake him as her voice tugged at his heart, forcing him to admit to himself that had she ever humored the idea of beckoning him away from Cricket, he would have surely obeyed her in an instant.

Something about desperately loving one who was so unattainable proved utterly infuriating. Starshot found it astonishing how one moment, he wanted nothing more than to be close to the mysterious, yellow mare, and then the next, would feel compelled to get close only so that he might hurt her in retaliation for all the horrid things she forced him to acknowledge about himself.

It was worth noting at the time how odd it seemed for these feelings to overpower him only during Amabile's performances. In the suffocating heat of that grand hall, his mind would fall apart for her. However, once escaping into the cool of the evening air, these twisted notions of affection, no—complete obsession—would slowly drain away until he once again felt something like himself. His love for Cricket knew no superior during these strange and frightening after-moments. Likewise, his feelings of guilt knew no end. He would hold his wife in the open air whilst that same glassy look of complete adoration faded from her eyes, and wonder what torturous dreams had haunted her when she too had been listening to the golden mare with the golden voice.

"If only I could..." Cricket would always whisper to herself as she leaned her head against his warm chest. Starshot never dared to reply, fearful of what horrid confessions would escape him if he did.

Needless to say, they would both return to the grand hall every week without fail.

At first, it seemed merely a bit troublesome that these daring daydreams would only exist within the hall. Then slowly, week after week, much to his chagrin, Starshot would find that the dreams would linger on longer and longer into the night, well beyond any performances at the venue. What was but a momentary and secretive infatuation gradually became a common part of his everyday until, upon his waking every morning, thoughts of orange curls and an ethereal song would immediately consume him. He was not alone; for, quite often, when he woke, he would meet the gaze of Cricket whose eyes, also wide and wondering, seemed to let on that she had been brooding over the same things. By the evenings, when they laid down to sleep, these ceaseless musings had always grown so immensely that they pressed down upon them like a large weight.

It was on one of these evenings, after having returned from a performance at the hall, that the two laid down to sleep, and the increasingly restless green mare finally mustered up the audacity to speak on that which they had both been thinking.

"Amabile's performance was perfect tonight, wouldn't you say so?" she inquired weakly.

Starshot had cleared his throat, and feigned contemplation. Really there was nothing to consider. Amabile was always perfect, always beautiful. Still, he held some reservation for the sake of his wife whose performances seemed to go down worse and worse with the hall's audiences every week.

"She was... quite lovely, yes," he tittered, looking off to some far corner.

"Quite." The disappointment in her voice was clear. "I wonder if she might be open to giving me a few lessons. One day, I shall be sure to ask her. I know that if only I could be more like..."

Cricket's voice trailed off as she turned to look at her husband, and realized that he was lost in his own thoughts. It didn't take a genius wizard to figure who was on his mind.

"Husband," she peeped, after a long, crushing silence. "I must ask you something."

"Yes?" Starshot had replied, somehow already knowing what the subject would be. He listened as she took a deep breath.

"Do you think about Amabile? Constantly, I mean." She turned to look at his face.

At once, Starshot swore that his entire head had caught fire from the sheer amount of guilt he was feeling. The stallion knew well that whatever expression he was currently wearing, it would not fool his wife in the slightest. Cricket's brow furrowed, but her lips curled up into a tired smile. Still, Starshot said nothing.

"I figured so," she chirped, absent-mindedly running a hoof through her ash blue mane. "I can see it upon your face."

She chewed upon her bottom lip. It wasn't until Starshot had finally mustered up the courage to look at her that he saw that she had bitten down hard enough to draw a dot of blood.

"But can you see it upon mine, I wonder?" she croaked.

Perhaps the look he then gave her implied a misconstruing of information; for, just a moment later, she burst out laughing.

"What I mean is... her voice. Over these past months, I've found that I have grown to covet it in a way that is most monstrous... most frightening." Again her brow furrowed. "It is the strangest thing. I cannot recall any other time I have ever felt so driven to emulate and to envy. Increasingly, this... she seems to be all that matters to m—I mean, to my career. It's just so very peculiar that all this should arise from something so insignificant as one mare's song."

There was a sharp silence. Traces of a thought tugged at the edges of Starshot's mind. It was as if it were trying to remind him of something glaringly obvious.

An enchanting song—This had meant something to him once, something very important, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember what.

A song...

Her songs were lovely, weren't they? He missed her songs already, even after having heard them that very same night. If only he could have heard one more, and one more, and...

His mind again fell into a daze, a vessel that held only those beautiful harmonies of hers.

"The way she makes me feel..." he finally whispered as if in a trance. "...I was afraid to say anything about it."

He felt himself on the brink of tears.

"Please, forgive me these things, Kit," the stallion pleaded, using his pet name for Cricket for whatever mercy that might buy him. He drew the smallest comfort from hiding his face from her, burying it into his hooves.

Suddenly, he was caught up into a warm, enveloping embrace. Something soft like flower petals grazed against his cheek, and when he glanced up, Cricket's beautiful brown eyes were hovering right before his nose. Looking into them, he could see nothing but understanding and forgiveness, therein. Then, for just a moment, the haze cleared away. He saw her as he remembered her: bright, gentle, and full of hope. Desperately, he tried to hold on to these feelings as she kissed him.

"Let's never return, alright? I can find somewhere else to sing. We could just forget about all of this... about her. Agreed? I know it seems so small and silly, and it isn't that I fear that you might..." Her voice momentarily trailed off. Taking a deep breath, she cleared her throat and continued on. "It is just so strange to me how very involved this has all become."

The look in her eyes pleaded for his understanding. Starshot forced a smile, and nodded his head. His lips wisely remained sealed, and it almost seemed as if his wife had wanted them to remain so. When she leaned in to kiss him once more, his eyes closed, and he breathed in the scent of flowers that clung to her locks. It nearly broke his heart when he found himself imagining them as perfect, orange curls.

They both returned to the hall on the following week to hear Amabile sing, and eagerly continued to do so every week thereafter. The question of whether they should stop attending never came up between them again.

—-

The seated figure grimaced. His eyes lingered upon the image of the two ponies embracing as if they knew that their lives depended on it. How ironic it all seemed now.

As the thought of their subsequent trips to the theater faded from his mind, he then moved his hand in a slicing motion, and let out an infuriated shout. The image before him was cut in half, and fell apart in a spray of golden sparks.

Leaning back into his seat, surrounded by darkness, the figure took a moment to brood. His hand rose. His fingers trembled. He hesitated.

Shaking his head, his hand lowered in defeat. The green mare's bright and beautiful smile flitted across his mind one more time.

"Do it," he grunted.

Trying again, he raised his hand. His eyes went wide, and his jaw set itself stiff.

"Everyday, Starshot," the wizard murmured to himself. "Everyday, so that you may never forget what she did... what they did. Everyday until Kit is..."

There was a brief pause, and then a flash. Starshot trembled in his seat as he gazed upon yet another shadow from his past.

—-

The grand hall had grown to take up a rather large and important space in their lives by now. It had been three whole years since Amabile had first appeared upon its stage, and three whole years had gone by without them ever having missed a performance.

Looking around at the packed, sullen-faced crowd, Starshot noted that he recognized most of these faces. Like his wife and him, they had all been drawn to Amabile's voice like moths to a flame. Every week, for years, there they would all gather, an increasingly gaunt and sallow-eyed collection of the faithful, come together to worship at their mistress' hooves.

Cricket was on stage now, her eyes gaunt, her mane limp. Though the flowers weaved into her locks were as bright as ever, they hung from the strands in a way that worked to make the green mare look even more lifeless. She opened her mouth, and a weak whisper of a tune had barely escaped before the crowd began to boo and jeer, calling for Amabile in her stead.

Looking upon the stage, Starshot felt something tug at his heart again. By now, this had become a regular occurrence, but surely, there was something a husband should do at a moment like this, wasn't there? Run to her, perhaps? Gather the now defeated-looking mare up into a redeeming embrace? And yet, even though these notions flashed briefly across his mind, it seemed the only thing that the stallion found himself able to do was lean forward, and begin calling out Amabile's name in kind. The sight of his wife shuffling off of the stage as if in a trance didn't seem to move him much after the yellow mare's name left his lips. But at least he hadn't jeered his beloved Kit like the rest of these fools. What kind of husband would that have made him then?

He barely noticed his wife shambling out into the audience to stand beside him, pulling the flowers from her mane with her teeth. It was assumed that she wouldn't mind his lack of attention since her eyes were also wide, hungry, and trained upon stage left, the direction from which Amabile always entered. As the lights dimmed, Cricket nearly tripped over the hems of her pretty, white dress whilst trying to press forward from her row. When Amabile finally entered the stage, frantic screams broke out here and there amongst the audience, and Starshot swore he could hear his wife's breathing stop.

Amabile seemed positively rosy that evening. She looked healthy, strong, and her cheeks glowed with life. From the moment the yellow mare opened her mouth and let forth her powerful tune, pandemonium seemed to break loose in the hall. A few members of the audience bound forward, intent on climbing the stage, only to be stopped by a transparent barrier of magic. The translucent wall had been erected in front of the platform a few years ago in anticipation of when a day like this would inevitably arrive.

"Ama! I love you, Ama!" they called, pawing and scratching to get past each other whilst the radiant mare continued her refrain. She seemed completely unfazed by what was taking place before her. Her berry red eyes smiled down upon them all with an emotion that, at the time, Starshot had interpreted as being reciprocated adoration.

"If only... if only I could be more like..." Cricket croaked beside him. Starshot noticed that now, whenever she said the words, she would begin to shiver. Something in him wanted to reach out to comfort her. However, he found that nowadays, this one, simple act of love seemed nearly impossible for him to perform whilst in Amabile's presence.

There were ponies down in front of the stage now. Some of them were scratching at the magic barrier with their hooves. A few unicorns had even managed to poke through the thing. Cricket continued to tremble at her husband's side.

"Maybe... maybe, I could..." she whispered to herself.

Before he could stop her, she was off. Racing down the aisle toward the front of the stage, she once again nearly tripped over the hems of her dress. He couldn't blame her. He wanted to race down toward Amabile as well. However, for as much adoration as he held for the singer, he simply could not allow himself to act in such an undignified manner. Ponies knew him in this city. He was related to Star Swirl the... Star Swirl the something. Regardless, appearances had to be maintained for his mentor's sake.

...Maybe next time, he had thought to himself.

Eyes still glued upon the stage, Starshot never even seemed to notice Cricket standing still and statuesque amongst the roiling crowd. Then, something amazing happened, that did catch his attention. The yellow mare just so happened to gaze down upon his wife, a look of recognition and affection in her perfect eyes. Suddenly, Starshot felt jealousy growing within him, the likes of which he had never before known.

What was so grand about Cricket? he asked himself before suddenly realizing the nature of the thought. His brow furrowed.

That wasn't right, was it? Something seemed wrong about having a thought like that, but as he watched Cricket suddenly turn, and stumble off toward backstage—Amabile's eyes following her the entire way—these questions ceased, and his envy returned twofold. When the yellow mare's ethereal song finally ended, and she too had left the platform, Starshot could feel the gaping hole that was left within him more than ever before. Everything felt colder, emptier without her song. That was how he concluded that on that particular evening, he would hear one more—just one more.

After pushing through the crowds that had begun seeping out of the hall, and forcing his way past the stage staff, to his surprise, Starshot found that the passageway outside of the dressing rooms was completely void of life. The only pony left in the backstage was his wife. He had found her standing still as stone in the dim of the hallway, outside of a small, wooden door. She refused to knock, refused to speak, and seemed to be immensely interested in the sounds of joyful laughter seeping from within.

Seeing that she was in no fit state for conversation, Starshot moved to stand behind her, against the opposite wall. Some part of him also wished to observe before he subjected himself to any potential humiliation at the hooves of the one he so adored.

Perhaps it was just by chance that Cricket then tilted forward, her forehead knocking rather loudly against the door's wood. The laughter within ceased abruptly. When the door cracked open, a pair of rather intense, purple eyes bore into Cricket through the slit; Starshot could see them smoldering even from where he stood. They belonged to an earth mare with long, purple and green mane, and a rather surly disposition. He instantly disliked her.

"And who in Tartarus are you?" she spat at Cricket, scanning her over. Her nose crinkled, and she rubbed at it with her hoof. "What is it that you want?"

The way this mare spoke was rather interesting. Her accent came off sounding antiquated and old. Starshot scrutinized her, not caring that his face was now curled up into a look of utter disdain.

"Calm yourself, Amoroso," came a familiar voice from somewhere behind the rosy mare. "I called her here. Discovered her only tonight when she came to me begging for lessons. I never thought to even get near her before, the poor, little, unpolished thing. She's just a small gift for you two."

"Aww, Adagio, that is so sweet of you!" came another high-pitched voice from somewhere within the chamber.

"Adagio," Starshot whispered to himself. That name mattered to him for some reason that he could no longer recall.

"Quiet, you idiot!" A slapping sound and pained whimper could be heard coming from behind the door. "What have I told you a million times about—"

"Who are you?" the pinkish mare in the doorway cut in. It took a moment for Starshot to realize that she was looking at him.

There was a distinct sound of voices being hushed. Quickened hoofsteps could be heard running about before the door swung open to reveal two more faces, that of a blue earth mare, her doe-ish eyes glistening with curiosity, and finally, her.

"Amabile," Starshot breathed, his mind reeling. The look upon his face must have seemed utterly ridiculous, because without hesitation, the yellow mare's companions broke out into a ridiculing chortle.

"Stars, you're a bit of a plank, aren't you?" the one called Amoroso muttered, shaking her head.

Amabile scoffed.

"That's just her husband. Leave him be," she chided the mare, then turning those perfect eyes upon him. "We'll have her right back. I just want to speak with her for a bit, singer to singer."

Starshot felt his brow creasing. The jealousy was bubbling up within him again.

"W... what is so special about her singing?" he heard himself say. Something buried deep within him couldn't believe he had uttered such words about his wife.

"I am nothing compared to you," he heard Cricket murmur in agreement, her eyes still trained reverently upon Amabile.

"Hmm. This is true," the yellow mare tittered, twirling her hoof. "But still, we are colleagues, and it is very important to keep our bond as performers... secure."

With that, she reached out to usher Cricket into the room. As the sea green mare passed, Amabile's two companions stared at her with intense expressions that were beyond definition. Starshot could have sworn that he saw the pinkish one lick her lips.

Panic seized him as the door began to close. He rushed forward to stop it with an outstretched hoof. The yellow mare pulled her attention away from Cricket, and spun about to glare at him.

"Let me in. Please," he begged.

At first, there was a flash of incredulity upon that perfect, golden visage. A look of complete spite had trained itself directly upon him. The stallion supposed that had the expression remained, he very likely would have cursed himself out loud for being such a fool. However, to his utmost relief, the mare's eyes softened, and those perfect lips curled up into a pitying smile.

"All good things to those who wait."

The words fell from her lips like nectar, and when she reached out to brush a hoof against his cheek, Starshot swore he could have died happily right then and there. Never did he notice that curious pair of doe-ish, raspberry eyes boring into him. Perhaps it was that blue, sweet-faced mare who had been destined to act as his saving grace all along.

"He doesn't seem so bad, Ada—err, Amabile. And there is plenty of energy in him. And I am feeling a tad more peckish than usual. Can't we have him as well?" she inquired in that jittery, high pitched tone of hers.

There was a beat of silence. He knew the yellow mare was thinking.

"Alright, but not too much. I know this one. He's somepony rather important or something. If they are both equally out of sorts come tomorrow, others shall begin to ask questions."

The blue one let out a squeal of glee, and clapped her hooves together. Starshot, who had been waiting, feeling rather confused by the entire conversation, soon forgot all of these worries when he felt himself being drawn into the dimly lit chamber. He heard the door shut and lock behind him with a soft 'click'.

Time Out - Nowhere

The three stood before them glowering.

Amoroso, the rosy pony, shifted her gaze between them both, trying to decide upon something. As she thought to herself, one of her front hooves wandered up toward her neck where a lovely, red jewel hung from a black, satin ribbon. Starshot's brow creased at the sight. The necklace seemed to be an exact double to one that Amabile wore all the time. Glancing over toward the blue mare, he noted that she was dawning the same necklace as well.

"This might come as a shock to you," Amabile groaned, finally breaking the tense silence. She rolled her eyes, and with a flick of a hoof, tossed a curl out of her face, "but we don't actually have all night."

Biting her lip, Amoroso tapped decisively upon her pendant one last time. Her eyes then landed squarely upon Starshot. "You seemed eager enough, didn't you, plank?" she taunted the gray stallion. "Come here."

A single, ethereal soprano, soft and clear, resounded in the air. At once, it bore into Starshot, catching his heart upon a hook, and drawing him close. The details of the warm, sweet-scented room momentarily became sharp and glossy. His eyes met with Amoroso's purple pair, and upon realizing that she was the source from which that single, golden note emanated, his apprehension of her quickly fell away.

The stallion lumbered forward, never noticing Cricket doing the same by his side. When the singing mare directed him downward toward cushions that had been placed upon the floor, he and his wife both collapsed onto them, hoping that the promptness in their obedience might buy them both the Siren's favor.

Once seated, a curling alto joined in the melody, and it was then that all thoughts, all worries, all apprehensions flew from his mind. There was nothing in his world now but the voices and those two, lovely faces.

A third voice, piercing and familiar, bore through the others, and wrapped itself around his brain. It bid him to relax, and so he did. His eyes closed as he felt his face melt into a satiated grin. If he were made to sit like this, listening to their song forever, that would have seemed quite alright.

In a moment, he heard hooves approaching him. The song came a little louder now. His smile grew twofold. "Amabile..." he murmured to himself unwittingly. At this, he heard two distinct voices begin to giggle. Somehow, the melody flowed on. When he opened his eyes, the blue and fuchsia mare were seated before him, both passing him wicked grins. Still, nothing about this seemed to bother him. In fact, in the short time that he had known them, Starshot had come to realize that perhaps he adored them both, even the grim one.

Amabile forced a laugh from where she stood off to the side. Still humming, she proceeded to straighten her perfect curls in the mirror of a nearby vanity table. "My apologies, whoever you are, but did you see the size of that crowd this evening? No, I couldn't possibly make room for even one more puff."

These words meant something to him; he was sure of it. But if he were to be absolutely honest with himself, none of the intricacies of what Amabile had said mattered in lieu of her blatant rejection of him. Her refusal cut into him like a knife. It weighed down heavily upon his heart. "Oh," he breathed, his eyes going glassy with disappointment. "I had hoped that perhaps you... would..."

The yellow mare's head snapped about to face him. She let off a ridiculing guffaw. "Hoping for what?" She shook her head. "Oh, you poor, poor drained fool. You don't even realize what it is that you ask of me, do you? No worries. Your distresses shall soon come to an end." She waved her hoof in his direction, and then turned away, again.

Her words seared into the stallion. He loathed himself for disappointing her, for not being good enough for her. Swearing that the ache now coursing through his chest would bring a swift death, Starshot jumped in surprise when he felt a hoof catch him at the chin, and shake him back into something akin to consciousness. Gradually, the hoof forced his gaze toward his front.

"Don't you worry, plank," the pinkish pony cackled, staring into his eyes. "We two are still quite famished."

His smile returned. Their attentions, in whichever way they might come, was all that he desired. As their two, lingering melodies twisted and folded into each other, growing louder and louder, he felt his mind melt away completely.

"Close your eyes," the dour mare commanded, leaning his head back. Her touch felt as soft as he imagined a cloud might be, if he had ever felt a cloud, that is. Turning his head, he allowed his cheek to rest aimlessly upon her foreleg. At once, from beyond the blackness behind his eyelids, he heard a high-pitched giggle.

"I thought he'd be far more difficult than that. Let me near him," the voice chortled. Starshot could tell that she was now attempting to muffle her laughs as the fuchsia mare growled at her.

"Be at ease," Amoroso continued on after her bubbly cohort had calmed herself.

Give us your heart, Sir,
And lend us your ear.
Reveal unto us those delicious things that you fear—

"Most!" the blue mare interjected, her voice ringing like a bell.

Somewhere beyond, in the dark and dim, Starshot heard a loud 'SLAP!' and then a short-lived whimper. No matter. This beautiful lady had asked him a question, and he dared not be rude.

Actually, it was strange how heavy his eyelids had become as he attempted to open them, but eventually, he managed to part them just enough for Amoroso to see him gaze toward Amabile and then Cricket in the most sorrowful way. The rosy mare grinned deviously. By Celestia, how he loved that smile.

"I see," she chirped. And the singing came louder. "Well, I suppose I should be the first to tell you right now, Sir, that you are not exactly Amabile's type. Surely, she'll devour an entire audience for her fill, but when she is truly being selective... If she were truly hunting for a treat, I am sorry to say that you would not be it."

Complete anguish descended upon the stallion as all of his fears were confirmed. He was not good enough for her. Amabile probably hated him; in fact, he was now quite certain of it. Did Amoroso hate him as well? What about the blue mare? By Celestia and Luna, and every alicorn to come, never had he wanted to die more than he did at that very second.

Starshot imagined a flash of green, and for a moment, he could have sworn that something red had begun to glow before his dazed eyes. Amoroso inhaled sharply, and there was a stillness in the air before she sighed with content. This, coupled with the sound of the blue mare's breath, made his ear twitch. Even in the throes of nothingness and despair, the sound of them was still all-encompassing.

"I know, I know. It's just horrible, isn't it?" the gloomy one laughed. And the song bore deeper. "Even more so when you consider that she had only invited your wife in the first place. Then again, she certainly does seem to be Amabile's type; I can see it clearly. Accept it, Sir. Your wife is a fine cider. You're... grog."

Jealousy filled him up, hot and unbearable. That damned Cricket, again. Why was everypony always talking about Cricket as if she were the most spectacular pony in all of Equestria? What was so amazing about the mare that Amabile might favor her over him? After all, it was he who was the prodigy, wasn't it? Wasn't it he who was known as the heir of Star... Star... What was his name?

No matter. Cricket was still just a nopony, and in that moment, he despised her. Thoughts that he never dreamed possible entered his mind. He wanted to hurt her—badly. Maybe if she were gone, the three mares before him would have no choice but to favor him instead. Perhaps he should try to convince them, tell them who he was, explain to them that Kit was nothing at all when compared to him. Yet, when he attempted to open his mouth to speak, the stallion found that only an oafish groan was capable of leaving his lips. He decided quickly, then, that perhaps it was best to remain silent. These three sounded so much nicer than he did, anyway.

The rose-ish mare's forelegs began to shiver where they pressed against his shoulders, and he sensed the blue pony edging in closer. They now were both humming and giggling with delight.

"I know what he's thinking," the blue mare taunted in a sing-song voice.

"Shut it and feed, Sempre," the fuchsia one replied.

"Pfft! But look, there's so much of it now! I don't even know how I'll be able to catch it all!" the doe-eyed mare retorted, laughing out loud from somewhere beyond the blur of Starshot's mind. He heard her stumble to her hooves, and for some reason, begin skipping and dancing about the room. It wasn't necessary to be able to see her dance for him to know that it was beautiful; everything that these three did was perfection.

"Shut it, and sit down, will you?" the surly one barked. "You're going to upset the melod—"

"That's enough, Amoroso. Don't drain anymore from him," Amabile cut in, drawing the room into a sudden silence.

The songs all came to a complete stop, much to Starshot's dismay. Through his despair, and the empty hole left in his heart, he gradually began to regain control of his emotions. His anger and shame began to recede; yet, his head still reeled as he continued to sit in a state of blind confusion.

"He wasn't the one I brought for you, anyway. She was the one whom I wanted you to try."

Cricket... Kit.

For all the awful things he had been thinking about her just a few moments prior, Starshot had nearly forgotten that his wife had been in the room this entire time. How had he managed that?

His neck snapped to the side as the fuchsia mare shoved him away like a discarded toy. "Meh. He didn't taste particularly spectacular, anyway," she sighed, casually making her way over toward the sea green mare.

Starshot watched on as Amoroso hunkered down before his wife just as she had done to him a moment ago. The jealousy returned; the hole within him grew deeper.

Reaching forward the surly one raised Cricket's face toward the dim lamplight. Her gaze seemed to hover between the green mare's big, brown eyes, and for some reason, the empty space above her head. "Ugh. Another sweet and sad, little tragedy of a mare, Amabile?" she groaned, shoving Cricket's head away, nearly making the poor thing tip over. "I'll develop a headache, you know... a-gain."

"Oh, stop your whining, you little ingrate. This one's deceptive," Amabile chirped, flipping an orange curl over her shoulder. "Get a better smell of her. Go on!"

Cocking a skeptical brow at her cohort, Amoroso turned again to face Cricket, leaned in, and inhaled. Starshot could see clearly the shiver that proceeded to run up her spine. He wanted to wonder why, but found he couldn't care enough to try.

"Interesting," the mare gasped, staring Cricket over, wide-eyed. "Alright. Perhaps I was mistaken."

"Thank you. Yes, I am extremely good to you two, aren't I? It is so refreshing to hear you bring that up, for once," the yellow mare gibed, waving a hoof in her companion's direction. "Now, please do hurry up ...But, also go slowly. I'd very much like to watch."

The grin upon Amabile's face grew absolutely infernal as she watched her cohort loom over Cricket. The rosy one edged upward to whisper into the dazed mare's ear. Starshot, still lost in his trance, never thought to question why he had, again, imagined something elusive and green seeping and stewing about his wife.

There was a sudden rush of wind from his opposite side as something blue bolted past him, leapt forward, and landed squarely on top of the preoccupied, fuchsia mare. He watched his wife teeter, and then finally fall backward onto the floor, hitting her head so hard, she was nearly rendered unconscious.

"I want to try her, too!" the blue mare squealed, doing her best to get at Cricket whilst Amoroso shoved her away.

"You nearly knocked her out, you clumsy guppy!" she barked, fighting the blue mare off. "Just stay out of it! She would be wasted on a simpleton like you!"

"You're the simpleton, Aria!" the sweet-faced mare retorted, purposely screaming the last word as loud as possible. She then jutted out her tongue in Amoroso's direction.

"Are you absolutely mad?" Amoroso raged, reeling upon her at once. "Are you trying to have me killed using my name like that? I'll tell you what's what, Sonata Dusk. If I am to die, I shall be sure to drag your stupid, stupid face down to the very pits of Tartarus right along with m—!"

"Enough!" Amabile screamed, again cutting the room into complete silence.

Starshot felt himself smiling in her direction. He loved the way she was always able to do that, to take control of every situation.

"Amoroso, allow Sempre to feed first," the yellow mare bade her companion, casually inspecting her hoof. "You may have your fill afterward."

The surly mare stood there looking quite stunned. "What? Not a chance! Why should she be allowed to—"

Amabile's shiny, yellow hoof came down hard upon the old, wooden dresser. "Because I commanded it," she snarled, boring holes into the pinkish pony with those burning eyes of hers.

At once, the other mare's courage seemed to fail her. Starshot's lip twitched. He was no longer certain whether he should feel happy or sad.

The yellow mare straightened herself, and proudly hitched her shoulders back up where they belonged. "Besides, Sempre has already gorged herself on that one over there." She gestured toward him. "She shan't have much of her. Just a taste, isn't that right, Sempre?"

The blue mare nodded adoringly at Amabile, and then quickly bounced over to where Cricket was lying, stark still, eyes trained upon the ceiling. Crouching down over her, Sempre then began to sing quietly into the air. That lovely, curling alto grew louder, threatening to reach across the room, and weigh down upon Starshot's brain once more.

"Oh, she is very sweet," the blue mare cooed after only a moment. She passed a devious grin in the fuchsia pony's direction. "But there's something else there as well. Something like… earth? You couldn't possibly imagine it, Amoros—"

"Stop it, Sempre. Leave Amoroso be," Amabile chided her, preoccupied with studying the look of anguish that had begun to seep across Cricket's face.

The doe-eyed mare smiled at her superior. "Do you know what her energy is saying to me, Amabile?" she giggled, holding down Cricket's forelegs as the mare began to writhe in grief. "She wishes that she were as talented as you are. She wishes she was you. It tears her up inside, that you don't love her."

"Oh, for the love of all that is rotten, will you shut it and feed, already!" Amoroso snapped with a dramatic roll of her eyes. "Amabile's head is big enough as it is with all of that unmanageable mane. No need to help it along."

Clearing her throat, Amabile shrugged, and smiled a contented smile to herself. Sempre hunched back over to continue her song until the mare beneath her had stopped her struggling.

Amoroso, appearing rather dejected, turned suddenly to meet Starshot's gaze. She glowered at him dully, and crossed her forelegs. "We two castaways, ey?" the mare deadpanned.

Starshot felt his eyelids droop at the echoing quality of her voice.

Staring at him, thinking to herself for a moment, the rosy pony then reached forward with one, outstretched hoof. Everything in Starshot's line of sight became swimmy by the time she had touched his forehead, and shoved him backward.

"Perhaps you should lie down," she sighed boredly.

His head met the floor with a loud 'THUD'.

For a significant amount of time afterward—he knew not how long—the world flashed by the mage's dipping eyesight in a series of quickly fading images. He watched on as Sempre rose up to her hooves, rubbing a spot upon her chest. In a flash, Amoroso had taken her place, bearing down over Kit. He still couldnt fathom why. The song flowed on.

Eventually, only after Kit's whimpering had finally ceased, and Amabile had snuffed out the lamplight, did something akin to clarity begin to descend upon the stallion again.

"Out of my way! Let me see her. By Discord, did you have to leech her into complete oblivion?" a voice, distinctly Amabile's, whispered somewhere in the darkness.

"You said I could finish her!" Amoroso hissed. Even in his delirium, Starshot could still make out the distinct sound of a hoof stomp.

"I said you could have your fill of her! Not that you could sing her mad, you idiot! Just look at her! How is she supposed to function like this? She's too far beyond herself to recover, now!"

"How should I know? He shall help her, probably! What does it matter? She's only one, silly mare; nopony shall miss her."

"He shall miss her," Amabile snapped. "Didn't I tell you that I recognized this stallion? He's somepony important. I'm sure of it! Don't you remember our rule? We cannot finish important ponies this way unless we have a plan."

"I'm absolutely sick of your 'plans'! All they seem to do is benefit you!"

Starshot grimaced amidst his fading fog. Were these voices referring to him?

"You have some nerve, Adagio. I'll give you that," the gloomy voice continued on. "You fed upon an entire audience this evening, and have the gall to ask why a single mortal could not fill me? How could she? There was barely anything left after Sonata swilled half the little wench's vigor like the greedy pig she is!"

"Oi!" a high-pitched voice cut through the darkness.

"Ugh! Enough of this twaddle!" Amoroso growled. "I'm going to hunt down a proper meal."

There was a glow of red, and a rush of wind as Starshot suddenly sensed something growing, beginning to fill the room. A new sound began to echo in the air, something terrifying like the growling of a large, angry beast.

At once, the room's big windows burst open, and the cool night air ruffled his fur where he lay upon the floor. Again, the chamber glowed in red when suddenly, he was hit by the powerful sense that one gets when in the presence of a mightier being, the feeling that one's life was in very real danger.

Something large and fan-shaped swept out through the windows, and hovered just beyond its frame.

"May I join you, Aria?" Sempre inquired. Her voice was different now. It was fuller, more vibrant and strong.

Yet another fan-like something slipped through the windows. No, it wasn't a fan; it was too big, and was attached to something long. It looked more like a fin than anything else. Yes, an enormous fin.

"Oh, buck off, you whiny, little nuisance! Why must you have everything that I do?" another snarling, echoing voice came from beyond the window. "I'm going it alone tonight."

"No, we're all going together," Amabile cut in. "I want to return to the eastern coast by dawn, and there is no room for anymore slip ups in this town; not in the shadow of the princesses' woods."

Starshot heard another beastly growl.

"Very well, but you two had better keep up with me."

There was one more gust of air against his face. It worked to clear his mind a little faster. The last thing he saw before falling back into the dizzying darkness was something large, scaly, and blue zipping past the window, and disappearing off into the night. His head was swimming, fighting with itself for more clarity.

Get up, he told himself.

His limbs all seemed to be working fine now. The fresh silence urged him on.

"Get up," he slurred, pinching his eyelids closed. He shook his head, attempting to jostle the fog from his mind.

"Get up."

Upon opening his eyes, the sunlight hit Starshot's pupils head on, making him drop the lump of breakfast he had been levitating in his magic. Looking down, he caught sight of a plate, one of his own. Shifting his gaze upward, he noticed his own dining table before him as well. The light emanating from his sitting room's open window, again, shot into his face, making him wince.

Utterly confused, his mouth still working around the words "get up," he looked around, and realized that Cricket was also present. She sat across the table from him, smiling whilst sipping at her morning tea.

Had it all been a dream? Perhaps this was some sort of unforeseen, long term consequence of casting time spells. Had what he seen been an image from his future? "Not one more late night spent researching," he grumbled under his breath. "...Was probably casting spells in my sleep."

Cricket was still sipping slowly at her tea. She had yet to look at him.

Through the fog in his mind, something still did not sit right with Starshot about his harrowing vision. It wasn't because it seemed too real or too surreal, and it wasn't because his thoughts on it lingered on for far too long. On the contrary, what distressed him the most about this memory was how important it seemed in ways he could no longer remember. Running a hoof from his forehead to his nape, he tried harder to recall why this odd phantasm and those mares were significant, besides their rapturous voices, and how much he... how much he...

By Celestia, if he could just hear them sing once more, perhaps it might have helped to clear his mind, recall their significance. Still, if he allowed these worries to fall away, what he had experienced didn't seem to be an altogether unpleasant thing. Amabile was there, and Kit was there, though her purpose in the story remained rather foggy. There had been laughter, and something about food... Or was it cider? Instinctively, his gaze moved toward his wife. Perhaps he would find some solace in her. "Kit? Last night, D-did I... errr... Did you..." His voice trailed off upon his realizing that he had no clue of what he wished to ask.

Cricket had not attempted a reply, nor had she risen her head to look at him. Watching as she now nibbled at her breakfast, Starshot noticed that one of her hooves had traveled up toward her neck, and begun to scratch.

Deciding he had gone on about all this for far too long, the stallion let loose a loud sigh, and succumbed to the notion that, at least on this matter, he might need to reach out to his uncle for help. Of course, this would most certainly be a pain, a quality Starshot had long since learned to attribute to his great uncle.

Star Swirl lived deep within the Everfree Forest near the castle of the two sisters, and he rarely ever ventured outside of its borders anymore. Why should he when the castle was where his underground workrooms were located, not to mention the magic mirror that allowed him to travel through time and space at will? Who should care about the cobblestones of Canterlot if they could traverse through the stars? Still, the matter did seem important enough to make the journey to see him. Perhaps tomorrow the old unicorn could make some free time for a visit.

Pushing these thoughts away for the moment in lieu of enjoying his breakfast, Starshot moved to levitate a bit of the meal toward his mouth. Kit had done well this morning, having baked some fruit and grilled up something that resembled corn cakes. Though, upon further inspection, he saw that they were far too brown in color, the stallion shrugged this off as mere happenstance, and moved one of the cakes toward his mouth. Eagerly, he bit down.

The shock to his palate made him hack the entire bite back onto the plate. It was terrible. Whatever this all was, it barely even tasted like food. It was far too sweet, and held the sapor of bog water and molasses.

Starshot's mind reeled as he attempted to cough up something long and soft that had lodged itself in his throat. His bulging eyes trained upon Cricket who still refused to move an inch, look at him, or wipe that lackadaisical smile from her face. Hacking one last time, in desperate need of air, something finally came flying from his mouth, and splattered itself upon the table. Before him, squirming about in a pool of dark brown and masticated earth, was an earthworm. Fat and half bitten through, it attempted to work its devastated form toward the edge of the table.

Eyes wide with disbelief, chest heaving, Starshot's gaze shot up toward his wife. Sniffing back the tears and retch that had bubbled to the surface, the stallion passed Cricket an enraged glare. "Cricket! What have you done? What is the meaning of this?" he rasped.

Still no reply. Having had enough of being ignored, he pounded his hoof upon the table, nearly upsetting all of the dishes. "Answer me!"

"Oh, dear. What a mess you've made," Cricket sighed without looking up. She then moved her head to the side, and took a bite from her own plate. Starshot gagged again when, for the first time that morning, he noticed the earthworms and grainy bits of dirt that tumbled from her lips. Rushing over to her as she went to sip her tea, the stallion slapped the platter away onto the floor, and pressed his hooves into her cheeks, attempting to force her to spit up her mouthful of filth. Failing at this, he took her by the shoulders, and shook her violently until her head had no other choice but to bob upward in his direction.

"Kit, why? Tell me what is the matter!"

Those big, brown eyes finally pierced into him, and when they did, they showed no signs of affection, regret, or understanding. It was only now that Starshot noticed those orbs, once filled with life and hope, were ringed in a pale, sickly gray. The mare's overstuffed cheeks bulged around lips that slowly curled up into a maddened grin. As they spread apart, a rush of muddy tea seeped out to dribble down her chin. It landed with a splatter onto the floor.

"She likes things that are sweet and earthy. She said it. I heard her, and she likes me best that way," Cricket croaked, her shoulders bobbing up and down as she began to giggle. "Silly. You're always so silly about the most obvious things, Starshot. A simple genius. I've never liked that quality in you."

"W...what?" Starshot gasped as memories most sinister came rushing back to him through his lingering fog. Not a hallucination or glimpse into the future; it was a memory. Amabile not Amabile, but Adagio, the golden witch, the devourer of all rotten things. Not her companions or servants, but her wretched sisters, Aria and Sonata, the embodiments of pure rage and greed. And Cricket...

"Oh, Kit... " he whimpered pitifully, running a hoof through her sweat-soaked mane.

"With this, she will allow me to be near her. Then maybe I could be... be..." Kit rattled on staring into Starshot with those blank, empty eyes. Smiling wildly, she seemed to blink away her thoughts, and again lowered her head toward her tea cup.

—-

As the golden sparks faded away, Starshot sat up in his seat, and bore down upon his desk. Closing his swollen eyes, he let out a long, ragged breath. He sat like this in the dark for a disturbing length of time.

Now recollecting with clarity the pandemonium in the grand hall, the vicious urges he had developed against Cricket, and Kit's own despair, the wizard felt nauseous. He remembered their conversation about leaving the hall, and their lack of will to do so. He recalled Adagio's burning eyes training themselves upon poor Cricket, drawing her away. Sonata and Aria had bored down upon her, their singing growing louder, digging deeper even after it was clear by looking at her face that there was nothing left in the poor mare but love for them and hatred for herself. They had destroyed two promising, young lives that evening. And for what? One, hasty, evening snack.

The worst part of it was that even now, after all of these years, the Siren song persisted. Caught up in a world of confusion and sorrow, it sickened the wizard to admit how much delight the memory of it still brought him. Now, every time he laid down to sleep, it took all of his might to keep himself from bashing his head in for want of freedom from the three sisters' lingering venom. Yet, in spite of all this, Starshot could at least acknowledge that he was still a time mage.

And they were immortal.

And he was a time mage.

And they would pay. He didn't know when or how, but one thing he grew more certain of everyday was that their end would surely come to pass.

A moment later, his eyes opened, filled with fresh purpose. Glancing about the desk, covered in his organized chaos, he spotted an enormous, brown, book, bound in thin wood, and worn with age. Pulling the tome closer, Starshot ran his fingers across the image on its cover: a depiction of a shooting star whose shiny, gold tail was aimed as straight as a royal guardspony's spear.

Flipping the large book open, and sifting through the pages by chunks, the stallion grimaced as he caught glimpses of personal notes, theories, schematics, equations, and plans long past. Looking back upon the earlier ones, they now all seemed so trivial.

Trial #1: Dissuade CG from becoming a singer (For complete proposal, see pg. 2) - FAILED

Results:
CG never relocates to Canterlot.
CG never meets traveler.
CG dies in entomology field research accident.
(Amended note: Traveler never encouraged to introduce Temporal Adjustment Initiative).

Conclusion:
Void. This approach will not prolong CG's life. (Amended note: To interfere or hinder the creation of the TAI is not an option).

Trial #86: Dissuade CG from performing the Canterlot Grand Hall (For complete proposal, see pg. 172) - FAILED

Results:
Unavoidable. Grand Hall is an unalterable constant of CG’s thread (See pg 173-203 for complete trial breakdown).

Conclusion:
From all 67 completed trials, it is deduced that CG will inevitably perform the Grand Hall, as the significance of the theater is either unalterable or easily replaceable within the city of Canterlot. Any further alterations should come after her first performance.

Trial #141: Confront the target before CG is consumed (For complete proposal, see pg.342-356) - FAILED

Results:
Difficult to maintain element of surprise or to confront target directly whilst target remains fully empowered. CG and (presumably) traveler consumed.

Conclusion:
~~Seek more formidable means of confrontation~~ (See Trial #179 results and conclusion).

Trial #179: Alert princesses of target's whereabouts before CG is consumed (For complete proposal, see pg. 401- 408) - FAILED

Results:
It is impossible to maintain an element of surprise or to confront the target directly whilst target remains fully empowered. Princesses consumed. 1,407 civilians consumed. 350 soldiers consumed. CG consumed. (Presumably) traveler consumed.

Conclusion:
Any further efforts must focus solely on the target, and must take place during a period of their incapacitation (See pg. 721 for ongoing log of possible target origin eras and locations. See pg. 830 for ongoing log of possible allo-dimensional locations, post-banishment).

Failed, failed, failed. So many efforts to halt or destroy those infernal sisters, failed. So many threads of the pathways of the past cut for the havoc they would cause in the present and future. If his uncle had ever had the opportunity to read such a thing, he would almost certainly have given Starshot a rather vindictive "I told you so".

—-

Once upon a time, this book had been dedicated solely to finding a way to save his wife's sanity. The day Starshot began the log had been the same day he stormed out of his home, and into the Everfree Forest to confront Star Swirl about his failure to do anything about the Sirens. Sorrowful though he was about his great nephew's wife, the old, stubborn wizard had stuck to his beliefs, and refused to further converse with or tutor Starshot unless he adhered to his rule that the past should forever remain unaltered.

Thus, Starshot left the royal castle, and the old wizard's presence, forever cutting all ties with him. To the young mage, Star Swirl's inability to find anything in the world worthy enough for which to change his dictates seemed heartless, but to allow his beloved Kit to suffer in her fitful state, all for some silly, self indulgent rule, was utterly unforgivable. It was easily something to be held against his uncle forever, and Starshot would, indeed, never speak to the old unicorn again until the day he bestowed upon the Sirens his unfathomable act of mercy by banishing the three to a different plane.

Fortunately, by the time Starshot had broken ties with the old mage, he was knowledgeable enough in his work to erect his own mirror, and continue his travels alone. This was meant to allow him the opportunity to hunt for the Sirens as long as and in whichever way he pleased, but, of course, their banishment to a completely different dimension inevitably made this task a far more daunting one to undertake. Perhaps Star Swirl had recognized that his great nephew wielded enough power and knowledge to successfully find the Sirens had they simply been sent to a different time instead of a separate plane, altogether. Still, Starshot couldn't help but wonder what in Celestia's name would inspire the wizard to protect those three from the deaths that they very clearly deserved, especially after witnessing their final, vicious plot against Equestria.

Regardless, sending them across dimensions did ultimately broaden and lengthen Starshot's search as it was intended to do. However, having previously viewed many worlds where magic had not existed, this also presented unto the mage a promising possibility: that the three creatures would end up in a place where their powers might be rendered either useless or benign.

It was in this way that Starshot's allo-dimensional trials began, and as they went on, even past the time of Cricket's death, the stallion found in his travels and studies a new and greater purpose to which he could dedicate his life. If calamity and chaos were mostly unpredictable, then he would use his abilities to be the individual who would stop them wherever he happened to find them. If the Sirens were not the first or last evil to spread terror about Equestria, then in whichever way he could, Starshot would try to alleviate his world of these types of woes for the sake of all innocents like his beloved wife.

His uncle's rules be damned.

It seemed plain enough, and he was as much of a genius as Star Swirl deemed himself. Thus, in time, Starshot added to his arsenal of inherited time spells his own unique creations. These included the ability to scan the past or future of any dimension as long as he was already aware of its existence. This would turn out to be his most frequently casted spell. It not only granted him the ability to search for the three sisters without ever having to travel through the mirror, but the ability to review events from any thread he chose from the past or future. His daily ritual of viewing his education and subsequent degradation at the hooves of his uncle made certain that this spell was quite often put to use.

In addition to this, he had learned how to create time and dimensional pockets in space whereas an object or being could be manipulated without disturbing anything around it. This was how he had managed to carry on himself a moveable portal which allowed him to use magic anywhere within a magicless world. It was also how—unbeknownst to him all that time ago—he would one day almost manage to kill the monster who had taken Kit's mind, the one who called herself "Aria".

—

"Bitch," Starshot spat as he leafed through a couple more pages. It seemed an offense that one so horrid, so deceptive, might take the name of a thing he had once found quite beautiful. It was almost as if the beast had sucked the life from the very word itself.

Huffing to himself, the mage shoved the book away, and leaned back in his chair. Rubbing his temples, he made an attempt to settle his mind through the headache he was now experiencing. Damn whatever noxious slop that dour whore had forced him to drink back in the woods. He knew well that his reasoning skills always became limited when he was angry, but whatever he had drunk seemed to incapacitate him even more. Surely, the little charlatan had known that this would happen.

"Clever. Very clever, little creature," he grumbled to himself, fingers pressed into his aching eyes. Looking around for some calming thought, the wizard's mind finally drifted to the inky blackness that surrounded him.

All of his spells were important creations and quite useful; however, they were all nothing in comparison to this place, a place that he had created—or rather discovered—purely by accident.

—-

Starshot recalled the day he had been traveling through the portal on a mission, long forgotten, and caught sight of a flash of darkness at the center point between the two worlds. At first he thought nothing of this until he witnessed it happen again on a following trip. Each time he traveled between worlds, he would attempt to cast a spell to slow time upon his surroundings so that he might get a longer look at this strange, dark, "nowhere" place. Thinking himself a rather bold explorer, he soon grew tired of simply watching the space pass him by, and eventually concocted a plan to allow himself the opportunity to explore it.

On a subsequent trip, he brought with him an enormous mirror, a duplicate of his original back in Equestria. Upon it he casted a tracking spell, binding the two mirrors together into a dimensional pathway. Once this was completed, he dove headlong into the portal. Upon reaching that middle space, he paused time upon the looming darkness that surrounded him. Casting an equilibrium spell upon his floating body and the mirror, he was thus granted the illusion of weight, and for the first time, planted his hooves upon something which gave the impression of a floor. At last, he set the mirror down permanently so that he might always be able to return to the same place, the crossroads between all worlds and all times.

It was in this way that Starshot created the "Nowhere".

In the Nowhere, the vengeful wizard discovered that time and space could no longer touch him. He could exist there for as long as he wanted, and never again would he age for as long as he stayed in that space. The stallion recognized this as yet another theory his uncle had been wrong about, but quickly wrote this off as trivial after realizing that this place was the tool he needed to expand his search for the Sirens indefinitely. With the Nowhere, he could hunt them until the end of time. They would never be rid of him.

Struck by the profundity of this new understanding, the stallion bid farewell to Equestria and the life he no longer favored. He created a portal pocket, and removed his original mirror lest some future pony fool accidentally tamper with it. Then, he set up his new home within the Nowhere. There he would manipulate and traverse time as he pleased, to Equestria's plane and beyond.

Naturally, with his great uncle and the Princess Celestia also being traversers of time, Starshot had to live with the fear that one day, one or both of them would accidentally discover this place. Fortunately for him, this never happened, and after counting off a few decades, one day the inconsolable wizard finally found solace in the notion that his uncle was surely dead. The princess, as intelligent and timeless as her majesty might have been, would never think to suppose that a place like the Nowhere might even exist. Only a wizard who was a match to his uncle—or somehow got a hoof upon his books—would ever be able to find the Nowhere.

Starshot carried on in this way, year after year, traversing to and fro through time and space, changing what he could for the better, and regretfully leaving those calamities that he could not discover or had not the option to change without causing greater problems. As he did so, his endless search for the Sirens continued. Everyday—at least according to the illusion of passing time indicated by the enchanted clock upon his desk—he would pull up the thread of the three beasts' lived past, pondering upon their mysterious origins from out of an ancient, Equestrian sea, wondering about their magic, and how they had ever managed to become so undetectable. Everyday, he would draw countless threads of time and dimensional possibility from their future, and sift through them all, searching, searching for the place to which they had been banished until he could no longer keep his eyes open.

Imagine his delight when after sixty years of ceaseless searching, he just so happened to draw from the bunch of threads he had been looking for. It was in this sole vision of endless time and space, this mere hooful of sand, that he finally found those wretched three, scrounging about like sick dogs, hungry and near powerless in a world filled with odd, magicless creatures that called themselves "humans".

Success at last.

That one glorious thread was Starshot's salvation. It quickened him once more, filling him with renewed purpose as he watched the wicked trio live out their human existence lifetime after lifetime. He beamed at their suffering for want of their lost home, and was disgusted watching their indulgence in meaningless pleasures to keep their minds off of the days of their former glory.

Patiently, he ran the length of the thread, waiting for any sign of their expiration, the stripping of their power, or their own self destruction brought on by sheer frustration. The wizard prayed their choice would not be the latter, and grew anxious noting how close the one called Aria had often come to such an end. This type of conclusion could never satiate him. He wanted the pleasure of ending them all to himself.

When Starshot witnessed the final blow to the trio at the hands of a future Equestrian princess and her hoard of human companions, he nearly grew giddy. Not only was this confirmation that the art of time and dimensional magic would long outlast his uncle's era, but also that his pursuit of the Sirens was nearing its end. He had found the long awaited moment in which they lost their power. His time had finally come.

When this had all first occurred, about four months prior to his encounter with Aria, the wizard had immediately raced to his mirror, altering its refraction toward that of the human world. Using a spell he had long ago created to bend and shift the very edges of the Nowhere toward or away from other worlds, he then managed to transform himself into human form.

Starshot had to admit that at the time it had been a rather strange experience. Rarely had he ever deemed it necessary to transform himself into something unfamiliar since most of his "days" were spent in the Nowhere, scanning through time threads, or in Equestria, thwarting off chaos. However, it was during this small moment of victory that Starshot had surmised it wise to spend as much time in human form as possible. After all, the Sirens had spent an entire millennia getting used to their new bodies. He would have to at least be functional with his—despite all of its strange appendages and lack of fur.

Running over toward his tome to conjure up a fresh page, he had picked up a sliver of charcoal into his brand new whatever they were—he had not yet known what to call his fingers—and fumbled it around for only a moment before finally giving up.

"What in the ever loving— How can any creature function with these? I shall never get used to them!" he hissed before levitating the object in his magic instead.

—

Now taking a moment to glower down at the book these four months later, the exhausted Starshot gingerly picked up the charcoal in his hand. The nib now stayed steady in his appendage as he bore down upon the page.

Trial #344,739: Confront target directly following incapacitation. - FAILED

Results:
Traveler is disarmed and subdued. Target escapes.

Discoveries:
1) Confirmed: Target wields the ability to detect malicious intent through an amalgam of passive, sensory perceptions, probably a form of both sight and smell. This could very likely double as the target's main predatory feature. The nature of this feature, be it magical or biological, is still unknown. Maintaining an element of surprise is impossible as long as the traveler holds any ill will toward the target (NOTE: Look further into target's visual abilities).

2) Unpredicted phenomena occurs when traveler approaches the target. Biological detection of Equestrian magic replenishes target's power (?) or ability to utilize power (?). It is presumed impossible to approach the target or utilize Equestrian magic without partially restoring the target's abilities.

Conclusion:
...?

Starshot grimaced after writing down these notes, and rolled his swollen eyes, more so at himself than anything else. "I picked the wrong thread, the wrong possibility."

In his haste to discover as much as possible, as quickly as possible about the three Sirens' disempowered lives, the mage had made the mistake of gazing only upon the confrontation between Aria and himself in a thread where he had defeated her. So excited to witness the vision of her bleeding out at his feet, it had never even occurred to him that he should pull any more thread possibilities. It never struck him that that Starshot, the one who had defeated her, was also one who had somehow managed to discover that Sirens could smell emotion and re-empower themselves whilst near portals. This current Starshot, meaning himself, had not.

He only ever had one close encounter with the three, and that was the evening Cricket had been driven mad. It had taken a very long time for him to regain his own senses after that evening, and even then, the exact words the monsters used had forevermore remained elusive to him. Even after all this time, he had only vaguely recalled a few words alluding to food or drink and not much else.

The threads of the Sirens' past that he had researched were hardly any more informative. The three rarely ever spoke about the nature of their abilities so much as they just used them upon mortals. Whenever they had been mentioned, the statements only consisted of a word or two in passing, never enough to decipher their full meaning.

Unwittingly, he had blundered into this confrontation unprepared, and had obviously paid the price for it. A new course of action would now have to be formulated. One that, preferably, didn't involve very close contact... or "whiskey". But how could one destroy a Siren without getting close, or having to do it in person? Zipping through the confrontation again and again, the mage pondered to himself.

Suddenly, he gasped. His swollen eyes strained open wide. "They must destroy each other, of course," he whispered into the darkness. Conjuring up a fresh page in his tome, he began to scribble something down upon it.

The Sirens, being chaotic entities and devourers of negativity, were prone to butting heads with one another. Starshot had witnessed this quite often whilst reviewing whatever pieces from their past he could find. He had concluded that their hunger for negative energy was a double edged sword. It satiated and nourished them, but also seeped into their own consciousnesses. The evil that the three devoured was the very evil that they felt compelled to occasionally wield against one another. Maybe this factor could be used to his advantage.

He could cast an illusion spell, perhaps, a spell that would make him appear as one of them.

"No, no, that would never work," he muttered, using his magic to rub out what he had just written.

Even if he did take on the form of a Siren, if what he theorized was true about their ability to smell and see negative energy, they would instantly know that he was really a mortal anyway. He didn't want to take anymore chances. Rubbing his chin, he ruminated upon the matter some more.

As he zipped through the illusion before him, he noted the moment that the red-hued man had come bounding through the woods to punch him unconscious. Starshot grimaced.

Who was that righteous oaf, anyway? In his attempt to rescue Aria, he had accidentally saved Starshot's life. Still it sickened the wizard to see the man calling the monster by her name, picking her up into his arms, and racing away. How could it be possible to befriend a thing so—

Starshot paused. His reeling wrist froze in its position. "...Huh. That's a thought," he murmured to himself. "A ridiculous one, and yet..."

They had been living in the human world for a very long time, hadn't they? Perhaps they had formed some kind of outside relationship that could be used to manipulate them.

"Feh. Utterly ridiculous. What kind of close bond could a Siren possibly form with its food?"

The mage leaned back in his seat, and ran his hand across the bright slash of blue that streaked down the top of his gray head. His golden eyes flickered with weariness and frustration. Feeling unsettled in his state of curiosity, he reached out with one hand, and changed the image of the viewing circle before him. "Starshot, you are officially out of your mind," he scoffed.

The image that appeared therein was that of a white house on a quaint, rather worn-looking block. It was night. Two humans were yelling at each other nearby. Peering at the image, the wizard spotted a dark-clad, fuchsia woman standing on the front step of the white house. It was her, the Siren, Aria.

Zipping through this thread of time, the mage watched as she entered through the doorway, and disappeared. What had happened inside of that house? Until now, he could only speculate.

Starshot, having been stuck outside of the house and only interested in tracking the witch, had not worried about what she was up to at the time. He figured that she was attempting to find a way to stir up negativity for whatever reason she might still have wanted to. When she had gone storming from the place, he assumed she had failed, and was likely trying to make a quick getaway. Now that he thought back on it, it did seem presumptive, perhaps a bit careless of him, to not try to get a little closer. Regardless, the opportunity presented itself to him, now.

Pushing the image's view in closer, moving a little bit further along the length of this thread, he managed to get a clear view into the living room of the house. What he saw shocked him so sufficiently that he lost hold of his spell. In an instant, the viewing bubble had collapsed upon itself, and exploded into splinters of gold.

"What? That cannot be... Th—that can't be right."

Sirens weren't capable of love. They were terrifying, scaly creatures made of conflict, enticement, and lies; surely they had want for nothing more. Yet still, Starshot knew that his eyes had not deceived him. The look on Aria's face when she and that woman... when they... That was a look that he had seen before, a heartfelt and quite relatable expression.

Despite everything, the increasingly nagging voice in the back of his head told him that if there was any method that couldprove successful in luring a Siren that could feel a bonding emotion such as love, then getting to their loved ones would most certainly be it.

Still feeling extremely skeptical about the notion, Starshot scribbled something he had heard in the viewing bubble down onto a fresh page in his book. He then changed its image with a flick of his wrist, and immediately began searching through a new set of threads. After a few hours of work, the mage dropped his pencil, and grinned down at the page he had been writing upon. On it, scrawled in large script, were three names, three individuals who would inevitably aid him in destroying those wretched sisters once and for all.

At last, the question was answered. How does one go about catching three, overgrown, enchanted fish? With the correct bait, of course.

The First Step

Adagio's head whipped about anxiously as she hastened through the park. It always seemed a hassle to try to remember where that old oak was, especially since neither she nor her sisters often came here.

Huffing, the Siren paused for a moment, pulled her jacket tighter around her frame, and then used her hand to momentarily shield her eyes from the midday sun. Turning in a nearly complete circle, she scanned the immense, grassy lawn while clutching her notation booklets closer to her chest.

Autumn had finally decided to put its foot down. The air had taken on that familiar crisp and pungent aura that heralded the beginning of the season. Even now, Adagio could just make out a few leaves beginning to turn a slight orange.

What a shame. Fall was her favourite season, and it looked as if she would not be allowed the chance to enjoy what might possibly be the last one she would ever see. Taking a moment to check the watch upon her wrist only worked to make the girl more impatient as what she searched for continued to elude her. "Girls?" she yelled, hoping for a response that would lead her in the proper direction. At once, she detected a high-pitched and incoherent stream of rambling resound from somewhere beyond an uphill path to her left. "Bingo," she muttered to herself, hustling off toward the mound.

The large, old oak came into view as she reached the top, and with it, two more figures: Sonata, who was garbed in her work uniform and a cozy looking jacket, and Aria, who appeared dressed for complete discretion whilst clad in a long, purple jumpsuit; sunglasses, and a wide brimmed, black hat. The sight of the worn, white bandages wrapped tightly around the girl's throat made Adagio frown. She noted how the strips clashed with everything upon her body, even her pinkish skin.

Aria braced against Sonata with one arm, her head lolling about listlessly whilst her younger sister excitedly talked her ears off.

Sonata's rambling only became more excited as Adagio moved to stand before them both. "Can't believe that we're actually all out together!" the youngest Siren exclaimed, bouncing about. "Oh my gosh, we should go somewhere after this! What if we just all call off, and like, have a sisters day out? We could stay here for a while, and then go to the mall, and get foot massages, and—Oh! Or we could go to the coffee shop first and then the mall..."

As words continued to pour from her mouth, Aria directed her forward toward Adagio. The dour girl then passed her elder the most pained of expressions, and without hesitation, shoved the babbling Siren into her arms. This, of course, didn't seem to stop or slow Sonata's rant in the slightest.

"Adagio is that a new headband? I don't think I've ever seen that one before! It looks different!" she bumbled on.

"Please... take... her," Aria croaked, almost sounding as if she might cry. "Can't... too much... words..."

Grimacing at the hyperactive girl as she would a pile of stinky laundry, Adagio then tilted her head to the side, and peered at Aria. "Did you give her sugar? You gave her sugar, didn't you? We're barely used to eating an entire day's worth of this human crud, and you somehow decide it's a good idea for her to pour a cup of sugar down her throat."

"Aria let me buy two hot chocolates from that cart on the other side of the park!" Sonata giggled, gathering her elder into a crushing hug.

"I had to!" Aria cried, her voice still strained and hoarse. "She kept trying to braid my hair!"

"It totes would've looked awesome with your hat, Ari! Let's just be honest about that at least. Kay?" Sonata retorted.

Adagio, who was currently locked in a hug of death, thought quickly, and reached into her jacket pocket with one, shaking hand. Pulling out a couple dollars, she tossed it in Sonata's general direction, and struggled for whatever bit of air she could muster in spite of the younger girl's crushing grip. "Go... buy tea," she gasped through her purpling cheeks. "Chamomile and Jasmine! Chug it!"

"Okay!" Sonata cried, immediately releasing her. She promptly snatched up the money, and raced off down the hill.

Bending over and gasping for air, the eldest Siren watched her go. Aria stood beside her, gazing coolly upon the youngest girl as she skipped down the path. She pursed her fuchsia lips. "I bet she'll barf it all up skipping around like that," she muttered out of the corner of her mouth. "Just you watch. Three... two..."

A retching sound could be heard coming from the great lawn down below. Sonata was now doubled over against her knees, trying her best to hold her own ponytail out of her face whilst her head was buried halfway inside of a nearby trashcan. A few adults had begun to clear the area, thinking the girl a drunk. A few others dragged their impressionably young children along behind them.

"Told ya," the pinkish girl snorted.

Adagio rolled her eyes at this, doing her best to keep her composure. It was far too early in the day to allow these two to annoy her. She stood tall to face her more composed sister, and passed her a serious look. "Did you smell anything on your way here?"

"No," Aria replied sternly, taking the moment of calm to make her way back toward the tree. She then plopped down upon the grass, and leaned her back up against the immense thing.

Adagio followed suit, tossing her stack of books and papers onto the ground. She daintily sat down beside her whilst pulling the hems of her skirt straight. "Good," she replied, looking out onto the park.

The brightness of the day was even more apparent from atop this lonely hill. From here, they could just make out Sonata, now looking renewed and purposeful, and walking—more slowly, albeit—toward a large cart set up by the northern gate of the park. Everything in between them was a beautiful and slightly fading green.

A small gust of wind picked up, and both girls inhaled the smell of the air. It was refreshing, almost mood-lifting, and as Adagio felt the breeze working its way through her curls, her lulled mind drifted onto thoughts of her sister, Aria.

Even though it had been over a month since Adagio's "mishap" at the Crescendo household and her subsequent fight with Aria, the tension had remained unwaveringly palpable between them both. One would think that the appearance of their new and extremely dangerous foe would have done more to bring them together—at least more so than the melodramatic cry session they'd all participated in the evening of Aria's attack. Alas, it had not.

The implication of what Adagio had said to her the evening they had fought about their powers was horrible; that, at least, was clear. The memory of the incident left an indescribable weight in the older girl's chest, one that she couldn't seem to shake, and which only got heavier whenever she looked upon her sister.

Wrapping a hand around her ankle, and squeezing for courage, she took a deep breath. "I'm... sorry," she croaked.

Aria's head snapped around to stare at her, a suspicious smirk plastered across her face. After scanning Adagio over a few times, trying to get a grasp on the earnestness of this statement, she turned about, braced herself upon a lifted knee, and gazed out into the distance. "We've already been through all that gushy stuff, Adagio. Please don't make me relive it. It's embarrassing." Realizing she was being awful for no good reason, Aria took a deep breath, exhaled, and tried again. "You've said what you needed to say, and I heard you then. No need to—"

"Not about the attack," the elder Siren interjected as she anxiously rubbed the pads of her fingers together. She dared not look anywhere in Aria's direction.

At once, the younger girl's muscles tightened. She let off a loud, impatient huff as a hand quickly traveled to her side, and began digging about inside of her pockets.

It was very clear to Adagio that the subject was something the other girl wasn't keen on breeching. Still, she powered on, though now she couldn't help but wonder whose benefit she was doing it for. "About, what I said about you and—"

"Yea, well," Aria cut in, her hand now working more frantically within her pocket. Not finding what it was she was looking for, she then moved to the other, "it was a pretty fucked up thing to say."

There was a brief pause as Adagio willed herself to acquiesce to Aria's tone of voice. This time, at least, she could admit that she deserved it. "I didn't mean to trivialize it. I was angry about what you said—"

Aria's hand wrenched itself from her pocket, and planted itself firmly on the ground. Pulling off her sunglasses, she spun about to give Adagio the most spiteful of glares. "You were angry," she scoffed. "You were angry? How the hell do you figure you could be angry enough to say something like that to me? To me?"

Alright. The nice Adagio had been given her chance. Now irritated, the eldest Siren jabbed a finger out in Aria's direction, dangerously close to her chest.

"You made it seem as if what happened with Upr— the Duke was the result of some..." Adagio sputtered, her clenched hands working about in the air as she attempted to think through her anger," some rainy day game that I played while bored. How could you make light of what he did to me?"

"Oh, come on, Adagio. He never harmed a hair on your noble, little head. He wouldn't ever, and you knew that!" Aria yelled, pounding a fist against the grass.

"How do you know? You never even met him!" Adagio retorted.

"Because for our first two hundred, you never shut up about it!" Aria quipped.

"He hurt the ones that I loved!" the eldest Siren hissed, a tinge of pain in her eyes.

"Yea, well they're all gone now, Adagio! All of those mortals that we loved or despised are long dead and long gone. Their troubles are over! But me, Adagio? I'm the one that's still here with you, and I'm the one that has to live for an eternity with—"

Aria's outburst was cut short as something seemed to strike her. Whilst looking at Adagio's clearly offended expression, the younger Siren's features grew weary, exhausted even. She shook her head, and turned around to face the park. Slipping her glasses back on, she again dug into her pocket whilst trying to stave off the trembling of her bottom lip. "Forget it, Adagio," she croaked, her voice even more raspy than usual. She reached up toward her cheek to swipe at something shiny. "Just forget it."

Staring at her, seeing her so upset, was something that frustrated Adagio to her wit's end. Why was it always like this with Aria? Where did the conversations between them keep going wrong? Bending over to lean her forehead against her fingertips, the eldest Siren closed her eyes. With all of her might, she attempted to clear her mind of her own frustration, her own selfishness, and her own desire to force into Aria's head the notion that she was always stronger, brighter, and more correct. After a long silence, she opened her eyes, leaned back against the old oak, and exhaled. "I can't do this anymore. I don't want to fight with you over this kind of thing, Aria. We can't afford to if we're going to make it through all of this. We've got to figure out how to get along. You—" she paused, wondering if saying what was currently on her mind was really a good idea, "— you have scars. I know that. We all do, and to a very large extent, they will never go away. Perhaps if we'd never chosen to experience life upon the land, we wouldn't be like this. But we did choose it, Aria, and there's no taking that choice back. It's made us into these... things that we've become, and we're going to have to live with that. How does Sonata put it? 'We are what we are'?" She attempted a chuckle before realizing there was nothing humorous about this."But, personally speaking, I'd rather live with them, Aria. After all of these centuries' worth of crying, and moaning, and lamenting about Equestria and our powers, it took an actual threat, one that feels real, to show me that I'd rather live with these scars, and see what happens rather than just give up. A while ago, we didn't think we would ever sing again, and today we know that we can. You can't predict what will happen tomorrow, but I think I'd rather see it, and find out for myself."

The silence that ensued made the elder girl begin to shift about nervously. Looking at Aria gave her no recompense. The rosy Siren was currently hunched over her own knee. She had given up reaching around for the mystery item inside of her pockets, and was now sitting stark still, completely wordless.

"Wouldn't you?" Adagio blurted in a poor attempt to draw a reply out of her. "Like to see for yourself, I mean."

"I'm not so sure I care anymore," the somber girl finally replied with a shrug, "but what else is new?"

It didn't matter how many times her sister expressed these types of sentiments; it always bothered Adagio when she did it. Usually, she would react angrily, bidding the girl to be silent or to stop scaring Sonata with her words. She never revealed to her sisters that it was she who had felt terrified the most.

There had been a few close calls with Aria after their banishment, most for which Adagio ended up kicking herself for in penance for her lack of foresight. That was before the time mage. That was before she realized that her foresight, on almost every important occasion, had generally been lousy.

Noting how quiet her sister had gone, Aria turned to take a quick peek at her out of the corner of
her eye. "You know, after the whole thing with the barrack by the sea, and us meeting, and all that stuff, I just knew that I'd be on edge with this forever. It's still on my mind, even now," Aria began. She gulped after noticing that Adagio's eyes had planted themselves upon her. "That's why I still don't understand the night at the concert. If I wanted it to be over so badly, then why couldn't I just let him... It would've been so easy."

A pause.

"Probably woulda hurt like a bitch, but only for a little while, I bet." The pinkish girl snorted a short, rather inappropriate laugh. "Then, poof! Problems solved, no more worries, no more anything. So, why couldn't I just... y'know?"

Aria never noticed the small, knowing smile that cracked through Adagio's stern visage. "Because you like to fight, Aria. That's what you do, even when you know you're gonna lose," Adagio chirped with a humored roll of her eyes. "You get a kick out of discovering new ways in which you're set apart from... well... everyone. It validates your opinions. I think you realize that the day you stop wanting to fight with others is the day you're no longer Aria Blaze, and that's just out of the question for you."

By then, an astonished look had worked its way onto the younger girl's face. Blinking as her mind raced at a million miles per second, Aria's lips slowly began to part. It was if her mouth didn't want to say the words that her mind bid them to."Is it really?" she snorted, her voice wavering. "But I stopped fighting with Swift eventually, didn't I? And that led me back to my Sirenhood. Otherwise, I wouldn't be sitting here with you right now. So, how 'out of the question' should giving up be? Maybe it's the better choice."

The hairs on Adagio's neck stood on end. Her body stiffened, and her lips curled up into an apprehensive cluster. "You didn't stop fighting. You were just, idunno, hit hard," Adagio croaked, her voice suddenly faltering. "And then, you got back up. If you hadn't, then neither Sonata nor I would be here, either. Getting back up—That was what granted you your Sirenhood, Aria. That was what made you remember what you... what we were."

Aria huffed, as a smile broke out on her face. She then turned to face the park's great lawn once more. "Come on, Adagio. You would've eventually figured it all out on your own. Maybe not the blue one over there," she chuckled, directing her chin in the direction of Sonata who could now be seen making her way back down the path, "but you would've. Hell, by the time we met, you'd already figured out that you could purposely control others with your voice. That's huge!"

For once, Adagio's brain couldn't compute the compliments she was receiving. The Siren could feel, very clearly, that there was something greater under discussion than simply her own perceptiveness, something that came with higher stakes and which presented to her a greater risk. The bridge of her nose scrunched in frustration as she spotted Sonata now making her way back up the hill, looking far more settled. "Just keep trying. Alright?" she sighed, feeling her face grow hot. Her vision began to blur as she attempted to fight off a few tears of exhaustion. "Because I don't suppose that I can do this without you; not after all we've been through together."

If it wasn't for both of her eyebrows shooting straight up, one would never even know that Aria had been dashed into a state of complete shock by these words. Pushing her hat down, she then calmly reached back into her pocket. This time, with ease, she found what it was she had been looking for. "Well, knock me over with a feather," the rosy girl snickered. "Never thought I'd see the day that the great Adagio Dazzle admitted to wanting me around."

A lighter and sealed pack of cigarettes tumbled to the grass from her palm. She broke the seal, and quickly popped a stick between her lips. However, before she could retrieve the lighter, Adagio had snatched both it and the cigarette away. She rolled the thin cylinder between her yellow fingers while passing Aria a perturbed look.

"Yes, well, live it up. I might not say it again for another millennia and a half," she muttered. Giving the cigarette a forced sneer, she then broke the thing in half. "I can't believe you're still doing this with your throat the way it is."

"You don't have to believe it. Just pretend you're dreaming, and give me my lighter back," Aria commanded, reaching out to snatch it away from her. Adagio playfully drew it away, just beyond her grasp.

By this time, Sonata had returned, and taken her seat in the grass before her sisters. Tipping a steaming, paper cup up against her lips, her eyes darted to and fro between the other two, curious as to what they had been talking about. "Believe what, now?" the cheery—and much calmer—girl inquired as she began to twist a free finger around the end of her ponytail.

Adagio smirked in the girl's direction."Nothing. Forget about it," she bid her, reaching for one of her thick notebooks, and flipping it open. "There's too much to go over, and I've got another lesson to get to after this."

"Yea, about that, Adagio," Aria sighed, momentarily forgetting about her lighter. "What is the point of all this, anyway? We know what we know. Why do you have to give us a lecture, too?" Sweeping her long, purple hair over one shoulder, she then proceeded to play out a crude scene with her fingers. "The guy tries to come near us again, we just sing his ass dizzy, and walk him off of a cliff. Problem solved."

The eldest Siren placed her hands upon her hips, and frowned. "Do you really not want to know who he is? What all this means? Why you can use your powers when you're around him?"

Aria gave her a blank look. "I mean, they're there, and that's that. Knowing why doesn't matter to me," she shrugged.

"Well, it should matter to you, because you are the reason he is trying to kill us," Adagio spat, jutting her finger in her sister's direction.

Aria froze, her eyes wide and questioning. Studying Adagio's face closely for any sign that this might all have been some elaborate joke, she scoffed, and then proceeded to laugh. "Nice," she spat in between peals of chortles. "Real nice as usual, Adagio. Somehow finding a way to blame this on me. You can't even help yourself, can you?"

Adagio gave her a stare as serious as the grave, and did her best to shake off whatever offense she took with her sister's comments. She knew the younger girl was only trying to get under her skin. "About one thousand and twenty years ago, we infiltrated Canterlot for the fourth time, if I'm remembering correctly."

"Yea, and the last," Aria retorted, smiling patronizingly at her peer whilst leaning onto her knee. "And if I'm remembering correctly, you said that was my fault, too."

"I was doing a stint at the Canterlot Grand Hall," Adagio pressed on, feeling increasingly exasperated, "and three years in, I found a mortal... one that smelled incredible."

Aria snorted and rolled her eyes. "Oh ho ho, shocking," she laughed. "Adagio dramatically fawning over her meals. Never seen that before. Hey, when you lured her in, did you do that sexy fairy crap that you always do with your arms? You know... that 'come hither' jazz hands thing!"

By this point Adagio had folded her arms in front of her chest to keep herself from slapping the girl before her. Working her jaw, she continued on. "I didn't devour her energy. I called her back to the dressing room, and gave her to you and Sonata."

"Alright, cheesepuff. Now I'm bored. Gimme my lighter back," Aria chuckled, barely paying her sister any attention. She reached out to snatch the lighter from Adagio's grasp, only to have the thing drawn away again. "Her husband followed, and we took him in, even though I told you two that he was somepony important," the eldest girl continued.

Something flashed in Aria's eyes. It was a look of realization. For just an instant, her gaze faded off to somewhere distant. Quickly shaking off the grim thought that threatened to enter her head, she again presented her palm to her sister. "Maybe you didn't hear me the first time, Adagio..."

"You two fed from him and then her. I let Sonata feed from her first, and you were angry about it so—"

By this time, Aria looked plain sick. "Shut up. It's not funny anymore," she growled.

"I'm not trying to be!" the curly-haired Siren exclaimed, pounding her fist into the grass. "It was very long ago, but you have to remember, Aria. You finished her. You drained that stallion's wife!"

Sonata was now gripping tightly onto her rapidly cooling cup of tea, her eyes darting from one sister to the next. Aria took a long draw of air as if she was trying to regain control of herself despite her own anger. Sitting up straight, she slowly leaned in toward her older sister, and sneered. "Adagio, he... was... nothing."

"Ah! So you do remember him after all this time. Been questioning yourself, haven't you, Aria?" Adagio quipped, cocking a triumphant brow. Slowly, she leaned in to give the other girl a vindictive scowl. "That nothing was a student of Star Swirl the Bearded. Remember him, Aria? The unicorn that banished us to this forsaken place?"

She took this opportunity to quickly flip through a couple pages of her notebook until she found what she was looking for: a collection of her own notes pertaining to old Canterlot, Star Swirl, and his studies. Lifting the book up, she jutted one, slim finger against the page, and shoved it into Aria's face. "Time magic—Star Swirl invented it, and this Starshot guy was one of his two pupils besides Princess Celestia. He studied time magic with the mage, and considering how he's popped up in the modern world wearing that same brand of tacky boots that you're so fond of, I'm going to assume that he mastered it."

Eyes having gone wide, Aria slowly reached up with trembling hands, and snatched the notebook out of Adagio's grasp. Looking apprehensive, she began to read. Before too long, her head had begun to shake. "What the..." she breathed. "This doesn't say anything about how you know all of this. You're just guessing, Adagio."

The older girl snorted, passing her sister a pitying grin. She then reached down into her pile of books, and sifted through them until she came to a rather strange object. Before her sat a sealed, oversized sandwich bag containing a large, brown, and worm-eaten book. The thing was water pocked, cinged on its edges, and the binding had pulled away from its pages. Upon its tattered cover, now barely visible, was the faint stain of long faded paint. By the looks of it, this humble tome was hundreds of years old, if not more. Aria supposed that if she were to touch it, it might instantly wither to dust.

"W... what is that thing, Dagi?" Sonata inquired softly, donning a half repulsed grimace.

"This," Adagio began," is one of the journals of Star Swirl the Bearded, the greatest—and most irritating—wizard who has ever lived."

Sonata gasped.

"How the—Where the hell did you get that?" Aria squawked, her eyes looking as if they might pop out of her skull.

"I found it in the ruins of the Princesses' castle, after their battle," the eldest girl stated proudly, placing the baggie back onto the grass. "Of course, most of it was illegible and burned to Tartarus, but still, there was some useful information left in there."

"What do you mean you just found it?" Aria pressed, staring at Adagio as if the girl had attained some new degree of absurdity. "That would mean that you've had this thing for over a thousand years, somehow dragged it along with you when we were banished, and have never said anything to us about it!"

Adagio thought to herself for a moment. "That would be correct, yes," she replied, looking quite smug, "but all of that is just details now, Aria. We're digressing from my point which is that this Starshot guy was Star Swirl's student, and that you devoured all of his wife's energy."

A heavy silence passed between them all, and the sound of the wind picked up their slack. The look on Aria's face seemed absolutely discomposed, enough to touch Sonata's heart. At once, the youngest girl tossed back her dull-ish ponytail, and crawled through the grass to sit beside her distraught sister. Pulling one of Aria's hands away from Adagio's notebook, she held it firmly in her own—much to the grimacing girl's dismay—and passed their elder a serious glare. "You shouldn't put all the blame on Aria, Dagi. I drained from that mare, too! And you were the one who brought her to us. And we were really really hungry that night... I think. Well, I'm just assuming we were hungry, because I can't really remember too much, that far back, anymore. We were always super hungry, though. Right?"

Adagio gave the both of them a weary sigh before she snatched the notebook out of Aria's hand. Wetting an index finger upon her tongue, she continued to flip through its pages. "Whatever. The specifics don't matter that much, anyway. He's after us, and there's nothing we can do to change that. What we have to figure out now is why your powers did whatever it is that they did that night, and how we can use that to our advantage." At once, Adagio lifted a hand toward the band in her hair, ran her finger along its inner side, and retrieved a pen that had been hidden therein. "Who knows. Perhaps we could even figure a way to permanently restore the abilities we've lost, what with all the research I've done. This Starshot guy has most certainly arrived at exactly the right time."

Her oncoming bouts of maniacal cackling were stalled by the sound of Aria clearing her throat. Head darting upward to look at her younger sister, Adagio immediately took note of the girl's offended expression. "Alright, fine. So you could have died, but you didn't, right?" she ceded with a huff, her shoulders slumping. "This wizard's presence filled in plenty of blanks for me. Blanks that I was still drawing about our powers!"

Aria proceeded to roll her eyes behind her shades. "Just get on with it, poofball, before I lose my temper. And speaking of which, give me my damn lighter back, will ya?"

Adagio's grip on the lighter only tightened. "You've got the rest of the day to further your quest to destroy your vocal chords, Aria."

"Yea, it's not like you're working or anything," Sonata joked, twirling her wrist. Aria wrenched her arm out of the blue girl's grip, giving her a nasty glare. She then lowered her head toward the pile of books lying before her in the grass, clearly feigning sudden interest in them. Her large hat, thankfully, hid the blush now beginning to consume her entire face.

"When are you planning on going back to work, Aria?" Adagio interjected, now sounding quite intrigued. "It's been nearly a month. Sure, a homicidal, Equestrian mage may be chasing us to the ends of time, but dammit, I need my weekly bottle of wine, and you're eating into our funds!"

"Hey! I do go to work!" Aria protested, jabbing a thumb into her own chest. "It's just that... y'know... I don't actually go inside."

"Yea, she just lurks around it in the mornings and evenings," Sonata giggled, flicking a finger against her bottom lip, "so she can stalk that mortal she's obsessed wi—"

At once, Aria reeled around, gripped the younger girl by the collar, and throttled her. "Shut up, shut up, shut up! I'm not stalking anybody, alright?" Discarding the disoriented girl away into the grass, she turned back around only to be met with Adagio's ever-judgmental glare. "Didn't we already all agree that you were gonna sell some of your jewelry to set us up for a bit, Adagio? Phones? A car? What ever happened to that?"

“My jewels are ancient and priceless! I'm not about to log onto some two-bit website, and sell them off to just any nouveau riche, Johnny Nobody out of Nowheresville!" Adagio retorted, looking quite bruised over the subject. "I want them to be given a proper home. A museum or with a good, upstanding, noble family of quality, perhaps."

The elder girl's gaze went dreamy, a sight which put both Aria and Sonata on edge. They glanced at each other out of the corners of their eyes before shifting their attentions back onto their elder.

"They're just shiny rocks!" Aria grunted, scratching the back of her head in confusion.

This earned a weary look from Adagio. "And most of the songs on those dusty old records you like to hoard can now be acquired on the Internet. Perhaps I'll see if we can sell those silly things, too."

"Don't you dare!" Aria cried, snatching her shades off to reveal a look of terror.

Adagio smiled with satisfaction. "See? Sentimentality—It's a thing," she purred, tossing another opened notebook onto the ground between them all. "Now, let's get down to business, shall we? There's a lot of ground to cover. We can start with our powers."

Sonata, always glad to be reminded of Adagio's brilliance—at least until her mind wandered off amidst the older girl's self indulgent rambling—laid down upon her belly in the grass, and propped her head up in her hands. Aria huffed, and leaned back against the oak, clearly not as enthusiastic.

"We know that we three are the same. We're Sirens, and as such, we stir up and feed off of energies. This is our nature... because mortals... are awful."

Sonata burst into bouts of quiet snickering.

Adagio ignored this. "Our magic works to reaffirm these facts," she stated, then flipping a page. "The source that created us, whatever it may be, also created our magic. We're very literally made out of this source, and it meant for us to function together as one manifestation of itself. So, naturally, we spawn the same songs, and likewise, we feel the same physical threats."

As Adagio continued, Aria discreetly rolled her eyes.

"This is why when one of us is gravely injured, we all feel it. Because it could potentially weaken our song. The song is how the source intended for us to feed and protect ourselves. The song is how we survive. If the song falters during an emergency, we die. Thus..." Adagio turned another page, revealing a rather crude drawing that resembled a large, bubble-ish vase with three spouts. Each spout donned a tiny depiction of each Siren as they appeared in their true forms.

Sonata gasped, reaching out to snatch the notebook up. "Oh my gosh! We're soooo cuuuute!" Her face contorted into a confused smirk. "But how come we're the three-headed, sea monster flower vase? And how come Aria's teeth are longer than the rest of ours... and she has horns?"

"What? Lemme see that!" Aria exclaimed, reaching for the notebook, but not fast enough to beat Adagio to it.

The eldest shook her head, slapped a palm against her twitching brow, and placed the book back onto the ground. "Just pay attention, will you?" she bid them both. "This vase represents our Sirenhood and the water inside of it is the source that made us and our powers, see? This is us when we were at our greatest strength, back in Equestria. There, we could devour as much energy as we pleased, and because of that, the abilities provided by our source remained extremely powerful."

"Yea? And?" Aria butted in, tired of what she deemed a useless lecture. "What does that have to do with this Starshot guy?"

"Actually, I'm glad you asked that, Aria," Adagio replied, looking quite pleased with herself. "For weeks, I've been pondering over this, and then on the night you were attacked by Starshot, I finally figured it out. You said you regained your abilities around what time that night?"

"Ionno," Aria shrugged. "Like midnightish or something?"

"Precisely. And that's about when Sonata and I were zapped of our strength at home. You were enhancing your own abilities by drawing the source out of us!"

"Wait, wait, waitaminute," Aria scoffed, waving a hand in her elder's direction while she gripped the bridge of her nose with the other. "None of that makes any kind of sense. How come all of the, oh, I don't know, billion other times one of us has been in danger in this world, we haven't been able to do that? Why there? Why then? What makes this guy so special that he makes it happen?"

"Remember how you said he controlled your body, and kept pulling weapons out of nowhere?" Adagio asked.

"Uh huh," Aria grunted.

"Well, there had to have been a connection to Equestria nearby for him to be able to use Equestrian magic like that, right?"

"So what are you saying?" Aria huffed. "That there's some kind of invisible door to Equestria that just so happened to be in the woods where I just so happened to attend a concert that night? Highly unlikely, Adagio."

"I don't know what it is or where it was, but it had to be there somewhere, or else he wouldn't be able to wield his magic," Adagio said, digging her fingers into her curls. "The same with CHS. I suspect that there was some kind of thin veil or gateway there as well; one that we didn't even know about! Because of that thin veil, we were brought just slightly closer to our source! That was what gave us the edge we needed to better take hold of the minds of those students."

A wistful expression flitted across her younger sisters' faces as they seemed to recall those harrowing days at CHS, and the final moments of their Sirenhood.

Looking upon them, Adagio felt something tugging at her heart, and quickly, her gaze fell toward the grass. Fighting off the pangs of guilt that now coursed through her, she cleared her throat, and powered on. "Again, the point that I'm trying to make is that being near this portal to Equestria brought you nearer to our source. It gave your abilities just enough of a boost to draw from the part of our source that was even closer—Sonata and me. In turn, this allowed you enough power to sing!"

Aria blinked. "Okay, this is officially stupid," the grim Siren sighed, now searching her pockets to see if, by some miracle, she happened to have a spare lighter. "Why would this 'source' thing permit me to drain from you two? Isn't that a danger to us all or whatever? I thought you said it didn't allow that type of thing."

"It wouldn't allow you to kill us, Aria. It allows you to take just enough to defend yourself from being killed. Sonata and I were safe at home. In pain, but safe. You weren't. Without all three of us alive, we aren't as powerful. We aren't the manifestation we were meant to be. We all have to be safe or none of us is safe! If one of us dies, then we're all... How would you so eloquently put it?... Fucked?"

"Yes. Yes, that is how I would put it," Aria chuckled as she stroked her chin, a glimmer in her eye. "But, unfortunately, this still doesn't make sense to me. If we could just drain this 'source' or whatever from each other, then why do we crave energies? Why do we get stronger when we consume them? What about our jewels?"

"Ah! Yet another good question," Adagio chirped, grinning slyly. Sticking out one, slender finger, she directed both of her sisters' attentions back down toward the odd vase picture she had previously shown them. "Like I said before, in our true, fully empowered forms, we are like this vase full of water. We are filled to the brim with our source and all of the abilities it grants us. We could call up this source whenever we wanted to, and it would respond. But as you found out with old Starshot, those abilities fluctuate depending on how near or far away you are from our source."

"Yea, but our powers never used to completely disappear like this back when we had our jewels," Aria muttered.

"Exactly!" Adagio stated, her berry red eyes sparkling. "In our true forms, our jewels were part of our bodies. Even now, we still have the evidence of that." The elder girl drew down the top of her blouse to reveal the burned scar upon her chest. The sight of it garnered saddened frowns from her sisters, but she paid this no mind. "Those jewels were given to us when we were created so that we might be able to harness energy besides our own in order to store up more of our source. That way, the abilities it gave us always remained at a high and steady level, ready to use at full strength, no matter how far away we traveled. The more energy we consumed and stored within our jewels, the more energy we had to keep our source and its abilities within us, and the more powerful we became! When our jewels were destroyed, it was the same as if someone had poked holes within this vase, and all of the source just spilled out. We could no longer store energy, meaning we no longer had the strength to keep enough of our source near to us for it to grant our singing abilities or the ability to drain from mortals. Nowadays, if we want to use our ability to sing, we have to be much nearer to our source; we will have to draw it out of each other. Even then, we won't be permitted to do that unless it's absolutely necessary. That's the only way, unless we somehow find out how to heal ourselves."

"But Dagi, how come we can still see and smell energy without being near one of those portal thingies you talked about, or without draining from each other?" Sonata interjected, looking half confused and half intimidated. Her legs were kicking back and forth in the air. "Aren't those some of the tricks our water-source-thingy gave to us, too?"

"We are made out of the stuff, Sonata." Adagio rubbed at the skin on her hand for emphasis. "There will always be some of our source within us. Perhaps we're made of just enough to at least allow us the abilities of smell and sight. Seeing and smelling things is rather passive. We certainly couldn't do anything more strenuous like singing or devouring energy."

"Ooooh, I get it... I think!" Sonata exclaimed. Her eyes went glassy, and for a moment, it seemed as if her mind had flown away like a flower in the breeze until, suddenly, she gasped. A spark of realization seemed to hit her. "But Dagi! If we draw the source thingy out of ourselves and each other, and that's what we're made of, then what's gonna happen when it all runs out?"

Adagio's lip tightened. It appeared that Sonata had touched upon something that she was already aware of, but hesitant to speak on. "Yes, well, about that," the eldest Siren coughed, flipping a few more pages in her notebook.

Aria, noting her sister's anxious behavior, grimaced. "Adagio?" she cautioned as if bidding the girl not to hesitate or lie.

Adagio's eyes slowly trained upon them both. Her jaw was set, and her lips stammered for the proper words. "We will"—another cough—"expire... I imagine."

"Expire?" both Aria and Sonata exclaimed, each with very different intonations.

"You mean we're mortal now?" Aria gasped as Sonata let off a pitiful, mewling wail at her side.

"Well, technically, I suppose you could say that," Adagio began. "But I'm not exactly sure how—"

"Idunwannadiiiiiiiie, Dagiiiii!" Sonata bawled, tears and snot beginning to leak from her face.

"By Chaos, will you just let me fini—"

"So, like, let's say there's this other mortal, hypothetically speaking, of course. Not actually someone that I knew or liked or something stupid and lame like that," Aria cut in, scratching the bridge of her nose. "I—as in hypothetical "I"—could tell this hypothetical person that I am also mortal, and that wouldn't be, idunno, like blatantly lying to them in a way that might come back to bite me in the ass, and ruin whatever potential relationship might develop between us—I mean, them. I mean hypothetical us, right?... Hypothetically speaking."

"What about flying cars? We'll never get to see flying cars!" Sonata stammered, now beginning to hyperventilate. "There are so many ice cream flavors I haven't tried yet! Oh my gosh, the nail polish colors that I haven't—Oh, dirt! What about tacoooos?"

"Shut up!" Adagio finally screamed, fists clenched, teeth bared, an assortment of veins threatening to pop from her forehead. This proved successful in silencing her two subordinates who now at least looked as if they were paying her the attention that she deserved.

Aria urged her to continue with just a single, cocked eyebrow. Sonata, however, seemed on the brink of explosion, cheeks puffed and hands clasped over trembling lips.

"What I was trying to say was that technically we are now mortal. However, I don't know what that may entail. The only thing that I am somewhat certain about is that unless we find a way to heal ourselves, we will expire. When? I have no idea. It could take three hundred years, or it could take one. There's just no way to be certain."

Sonata nearly lost her composure at these words. She snorted, doing her best to hold back a fresh spew of tears and spittle. Adagio, expectedly, shot her a cautioning glare.

At just that moment, Aria saw her chance, and took the opportunity to lunge out, finally snatching the lighter out of her sister's hand. Smiling victoriously as Adagio grimaced in her direction, she proceeded to fetch a fresh cigarette from her pack. "Great. So, now that we've so delicately laid bare all the wondrous secrets of the special flowers that are our own horrifying, self-devouring bodies," she jabbed, taking a moment to light the cigarette and inhale, "I must ask how all of this information helps us get rid of that crazy time stalker." The rosy Siren thought to herself for a moment. "And also, a side question, if you will: So, a cheeseburger and fries does nothing for me? Nothing at all? Because I'm gonna keep eating them, regardless." She sucked calmly upon her cigarette whilst watching Adagio fall to the very brink of her composure, and pull herself back again.

Forcing a barely convincing smile, the Siren leader clenched her hands into the grass and grit her teeth. "I don't know, Aria. Does eating cheeseburgers stop any human from eventually dying? For us, this mortal crud only staves off hunger pangs. Like in Equestria, we can devour physical entities if we have to, but they can't sustain us forever."

"Ah," Aria chuckled, looking as if she were remembering something fondly, "like the time that seafaring, pegasus mercenary thought he could capture us in his pathetic, little net. So, I bit off his—"

Catching her awareness, Aria noted how Adagio was now shaking with anger. Clearing her throat, she took another puff from her smoke, and calmly gestured with her hand.

"You may proceed."

"Oh, may I? Thank you," Adagio spat, fluttering her eyelashes. She then directed her gaze back down toward her books. "To answer your question—the one that wasn't moronic—knowing how our bodies work is important because they are the reason that time mage can't get near us." Adagio took a moment to fan Aria's cigarette smoke from out of her face. "This information could help us finally figure a way to heal ourselves. Perhaps we could find one of those magical portals. Then we could get back to Equestria, and to our source. I'm sure that would fix us."

"But what is our source, Dagi?" Sonata inquired, her voice still nasally and hoarse from her previous bouts of crying. "Is it that place we keep dreaming about? The place off the shore of that beach?"

Adagio smirked. "I can't believe I'm about to say these words, but, yes. I believe Sonata is right. The place under the waters where we retreated after we remembered. That must be it. We have to get back there."

Immediately, Aria's muscles tensed, and her eyes shot open wide. Shaking her head free of more horrible memories, she turned to face her older sister. "No," she hissed. "Never. I'm never going back there, Adagio. So, you can just scratch that idea."

"Aria, this could be the one thing that can heal us," Adagio huffed, impatiently. "Don't you want your abilities ba—"

"I said I'm not fucking going!" Aria screamed, accidentally dropping her cigarette whilst she scrambled to her feet. "I don't give a damn who's after us, Adagio. No one—pony, human, or Siren—is going to ever drag me back to that plot of putrid, stinking, unhallowed ground again! Not after what happened!"

"But we'd go to the sea, Ari" Sonata added gently in an attempt to calm her raging sister. "Maybe we wouldn't even have to pass through—"

"I don't care!" Aria shrieked, her wrecked voice breaking as tears began to fall from her eyes. She now looked in a state of panic. "If I even have to look at it... I... I just can't!" She reeled upon her elder. "How do you even know this will work? How do you even know we can still go back to Equestria? We're no longer whole, Adagio. What will we be when we pass through? What if we die? What if we can't fly, and just flop around like losers until we dry out in the sun? What if that wizard guy is in there with a trap? That's where he came from isn't it?"

Adagio, honoring the depth of her sister's distress, gazed up at her calmly, and waited for her to finish. When she had, the Siren leader stood up to face her. "Maybe we might die trying to get back, Aria. But we will certainly die if we stay here and do nothing," she posed in a calm, collected tone. "Forget our lack of powers and energy; that creep will find a way to get to us, and when he does, he is going to kill us."

"But... but you said he couldn't come near..." Aria stammered. "Can't we just..." Her words trailed off amidst her own confusion.

Seeing her sister's frustration, Adagio reached out, and gripped onto her sleeve. "Think, Aria. Don't you wonder how it is that he found us in the first place, and just after we lost our powers? How expansive is eternity? The odds are just way too small for this to have happened by accident. That wizard, whoever he is, has somehow found a way to look at us, to see us without having to be near us."

"Forrealzies?" Sonata gasped, her eyes going wide. At once, she bounced up to her feet, and ran to hide behind Adagio's hair which had not yet been tied up for the day. "Does that mean he could be listening to us right now?"

Adagio gently prodded the younger girl away, and nodded. "It does. So, we have to be careful with what we say out loud from now on." She turned back around to face Aria. "And we have to be careful with what and whom we choose to be around."

There was a hidden message in Adagio's eyes, one that Aria immediately caught. The sullen girl's entire face seemed to sink into an expression of disbelief and despair. Her head shook ever so slightly. "But why would—" Aria breathed. "He only wants us. He wouldn't..."

Adagio passed her a solemn look. "We have to find a way to heal ourselves. A confrontation is coming. It's inevitable. The best we can do is be prepared to fight... for whatever we need to."

There was a long silence as Aria huffed and gasped out the feeling of helplessness that had collected about her chest. Tipping the brim of her hat, she attempted to hide her face from her sister's sight as she tried to regain her composure. Eventually, she forced herself to meet Adagio's gaze. When her face was revealed from under her hat, a familiar sneer of disdain had taken the place of fear. "W... well, good going explaining our entire anatomy to the jerk!" the rosy Siren barked, collecting her things together, and preparing to leave. "I'm outta here. I've heard what I've needed to hear, and I'm sure he has, too."

"Knowing how our bodies work gives him no advantage against us, Aria, but other things might," Adagio prodded, making a last ditch effort to connect with the girl.

Trying, unsuccessfully, to draw out the unspoken words in her older sister's eyes, Aria's brow twitched, and then wrinkled with frustration. "I am done trying to figure out your cryptic crap," she sighed in defeat. Putting her glasses on, the Siren then began to walk away. "I'm done! I've said my piece. You two do what you want. I'm not opposed to healing myself, but I am not going back to that place. So, just deal."

Adagio and Sonata watched her go, both wearing worried expressions.

As she looked on, Sonata reached out with both of her hands, and felt around at her side for Adagio's arm. Pulling herself closer to her sister for comfort, she finally turned to face her. "What are we gonna do, Dagi? I don't think Ari can do this with us."

"Well, I don't blame her, Sonata," Adagio sighed, now taking the time to stoop down, and collect her things. "It's asking a lot. Remember how much I didn't want to go to the beach before? And how would you feel if you had to see that old mansion in Canterlot, again?"

Sonata gasped. If one were to look close enough, they'd be able to see the hairs on her arms standing on end. "Yea. Ok, I guess I get it now," she murmured through a deep pout. "But then how, Dagi?"

"Well, we won't be able to do anything if we can't find one of those passageways. That's our first priority," Adagio sighed, taking a moment to collect her hair back into its usual bun.

"Like the one you said was at..." Sonata's gaze darted about, searching for anything around her that seemed suspicious, "CHS? But how will you find it?"

By this point, Adagio was prepared to take her leave. Shooting one of her signature grins at Sonata, she reached to her side where her sunglasses had been hanging from her waist. Snatching them up, she flicked them open with her pinkie, and pushed them on. "Oh, I've got a few ideas," she chirped, heading toward the path. "See you at home, Sonata."

——-

The sun had just begun it's slow descent out of the midday sky. Peering at the light through the dirty glass of the bus window, Adagio couldn't help but note how odd it appeared, all muddled and unclear. She supposed that perhaps everything in her life and the lives of her sisters was destined to gradually become just as washed out unless she could do something to fix it. Swinging around, and kicking her legs up onto the adjoining seat beside her, the Siren sighed, and turned her mind inward.

A strange thing the awareness of your own vulnerability was. Even now, Adagio could feel the small beads of sweat breaking out upon her brow, and the pitter-pattering of her heart inside of her chest. All of these new-old experiences and sensations were truly beginning to get on her nerves. Desperation, the comprehension of death, the ceaseless fear of the mortality of those she loved...

Love.

She scoffed to herself. When exactly had she started feeling that again?

Sighing and shaking her head, she allowed her gaze to fall into her lap. Somewhere, during sometime, she had heard someone say that the first step to healing was admitting that you had a problem, perhaps even asking for help. Of course, back in those old days, advice like that would fall upon her deaf ears. What in the world would have ever required a Siren to ask for anyone's help, especially that of a mortal? Pretty much nothing.

Oh, how times had changed.

Once again, it was just the two of them on the vehicle, today. Adagio was beginning to wonder if absolutely everyone else in this town owned a car except them. This was definitely something she needed to rectify soon. It would prove far too easy to be followed on public transportation.

Still, she couldn't complain too much at the present moment. This bus had been the sole reason she was brought together with her oh, so unwilling riding companion over the past few months. Talk about strange bedfellows. At least their inevitable conversation wouldn't seem too odd or out of place in their current setting.

Of course, none of these acknowledgements made actually approaching the other passenger any easier.

Pushing her glasses back into place upon her nose, the Siren cleared her throat as if to say something. Nothing came out. The best she could manage was an eerie glare across the aisle to the object of her attention, the girl who, at the moment, seemed a bit too wrapped up in the book she was pretending to read.

I cannot believe I am about to do this.

She slicked a hand over the top of her hair.

Alright. This is important, Adagio Dazzle. Just suck it up, take a deep breath, and get it over w—

A huge sigh resounded over the vibrating hum of the bus.

"Is there something that I can help you with?" Sunset Shimmer shot at the gawking Siren whilst slamming her book shut. "Just get it out, already. I can't concentrate with you burning holes into the side of my head like that."

It was a good thing that Adagio was donning sunglasses; she needed something to hide the astounded and slightly apprehensive look now plastered across her maw. Quickly clearing her throat one more time, she leaned forward. "Actually, yes, Sunset. There is something you can help me with."

What She Did

It occurred to Adagio, not too long after she and Sunset had set out for the mall, that she had run far lower on options than what she had been willing to acknowledge. Just moments prior, the eldest Siren was expressing to her sisters a plan that led them to believe she was feeling optimistic about her handling of their bloodthirsty time mage problem. However, as the minutes spent in Sunset's presence dwindled on, she found her thoughts becoming increasingly anxious, and much worse—realistic.

Concerning their search for a dimensional portal, Adagio was forced to admit that the "few ideas" she thought she had, didn't actually exist. There was only one path to finding a portal, and Sunset was it. The doorway to Equestria, whether it happened to exist as something static or something consciously conjured up by way of magic spells, was their salvation, and as far as Adagio knew, there were only two Equestrians who had traversed through such a thing: Starshot, who was currently predisposed with the task of hunting all three of them down like dogs, and Sunset Shimmer. Far be it from Adagio to say that she and Sunset had been on anything resembling "good terms," but out of the two options, the mortal girl was clearly the one that made the most sense.

As Adagio rushed through the mall parking lot, Sunset Shimmer in tow and looking none too pleased about it, the persistent itch of fear began to wash over her as did the gravity of the situation in which she presently found herself. If by some unfortunate luck Sunset refused to aid the Siren sisters in their quest to traverse to Equestria—and to be quite honest, Adagio couldn't fathom why she wouldn't—then they were finished. She didn't have the slightest clue as to what a dimensional portal looked like, much less its capabilities; so, searching the woods or CHS for such a thing on their own would most certainly prove pointless. Like it or not, their entire fates rested in this one, condiment-hued mortal's hands.

In this situation, the Siren acknowledged her one glimmer of light in the darkness, her one saving grace, as being her own show of confidence. If she could somehow beguile or intimidate Sunset into seeing things her way, no matter how much it might play against the mortal's own self interests, then her endeavors would surely prove successful all the same. Who said one needed honey to catch bees? A swatter would also work just fine.

Adagio felt her chest tighten as she looked back upon Sunset. To some extent, this situation had begun to feel similar to what Aria had described of her encounter with Starshot in the woods, namely that her superior abilities of persuasion and manipulation seemed of utmost importance right at that very moment. The secretly frazzled enchantress accepted that if any of her plans were to bear fruit, she would have to be perfect for this mortal girl. But surely, a Siren as experienced and cunning as she should have no problem with such a thing, right?

"Whoa! Watch it!" Sunset screamed, yanking Adagio out of the path of a speeding van. The distracted Siren, barely hearing the girl, blinked in confusion. Her head darted about, looking for the imminent threat's direction of attack. When she spotted nothing, her eyes locked with Sunset's. For a moment—before it dawned upon her that she was appearing far too vulnerable—she considered nodding her head in thanks. At once, the more practical part of her consciousness decided against this, urging her to wrench her head around, inhale the scent of the air, and continue across the street toward the shopping promenade directly ahead.

"This way. Over here seems good," she declared, only half caring if the mortal had heard her.

"Now, wait a minute," Sunset posed. "I know we both agreed we should hurry things up, but there really is no need to be reckless abou—Look out!"

Dropping her bookbag, Sunset dove forward, shoving Adagio onto the sidewalk and out of the way of yet another speeding vehicle, a bright, purple sportscar. The driver inside bore down upon the horn with fervent enthusiasm, and did not release until he had finally cleared the scene.

Sitting sprawled on the sidewalk next to a rather perturbed-looking Sunset, Adagio rolled her eyes, and frantically gathered her scattered books together. Springing to her feet, she managed to brush the dirt from her clothes in large, purposeful swoops that made the dust fall off of her in small plumes. Hopefully, Sunset was not growing suspicious of her nervous behavior. Adagio didn't gather that she was, but even still, the rattled Siren surmised that it would be best to make absolutely sure.

"Listen, you," she warned, directing a very confident finger toward Sunset's nose. "I don't have time for any of your mortal insecurities at the present, so if you could please keepyourself on two feet, and away from me for longer than three seconds, I would be greatly obliged." The Siren huffed before clutching her books even tighter, almost protectively, against her chest, and rushing off deeper into the tree-lined promenade.

Sunset, irritated by Adagio's blatant lack of gratitude, bolted to her feet, bent down to collect her bag, and growled in the Siren's direction.

"Mortal insecurities? Do immortals not get hit by unmarked vans or—I just saved your life you ungrateful..." Opting to hold her tongue, the incensed girl pressed two fingers against the bridge of her nose, and shook her head free of the rage threatening to boil over the very brims of her patience. "Listen, I'm not going another step until you tell me what this is all about!"

Adagio felt the hairs on her neck stand on end. A small voice somewhere in the crusted husk that was the empathetic part of her brain instinctively screamed for her to treat Sunset with a little more kindness and humility. Fighting off the fear that she might somehow ruin her chances with the girl, the Siren clenched her fists, bit her tongue, and powered forward.

These increasingly disturbing inklings of weakness, fear, love, and whatnot had now successfully managed to provoke the immortal. At first, she supposed it was because she hadn't felt such emotions in such a long time; however, gradually, it dawned upon her that these feelings so successfully lodged themselves in her craw because, inevitably, they meant she was getting accustomed to mortal thinking. Having already had experience making the irrational decisions such emotions would drive one to take, Adagio had learned to shun them long ago, instead choosing to pride herself on her ability to think rationally.

Perfect. You have to be perfect.

Again, ignoring the girl's demands, she continued on down the brick lined pathway, never once obliging Sunset with so much as a backward glance.

"I mean it!" Sunset yelled with a jangling stomp of her boot.

Hearing the commanding tone in the mortal's voice, Adagio halted, and finally turned around. Shooting Sunset a look that was nothing less than disdainful, she began a slow, purposeful saunter back in her direction. Once she stood before her, the Siren pulled the sunglasses from her face, hung them upon her collar, and crossed her book-laden arms.

"You know, Shimmer, I don't always reveal every last thing on my mind the instant someone happens to look in my general direction," Adagio began in a threatening tone. "Especially a little turncoat like you."

"Call me that again, Adagio, and I'll—"

"You'll what?" Adagio guffawed, twirling a finger around a single curl that had come loose from her crown. She never let on that this was one of her few nervous habits. "Walk away? Allow me to do whatever it is you know I'm most certainly going to do without your 'oh, so imperative' supervision? Come on, Shimmer; your wall of self righteousness wouldn't ever allow that. However, if you insist on wasting time, then go ahead. Humor me! Leave!"

The Siren extended one arm, and made a shooing motion in Sunset's direction. "Since your silly school museum trip—that we both know you're way too old for—means so much to you, then I'll just find the portal to Equestria myself."

Risk taking—It's what she did.

Sunset's expression grew dark. Teetering somewhere in between shock and rage, it took a moment for the girl to catch herself. When she did, she leaned forward to stick an indignant finger right into the center of Adagio's chest. The Siren staved off a wince, feeling the girl graze against the two, still very raw scars upon her flesh. This small pain seemed forgivable in lieu of the burst of nervous and fearful energy that happened to explode out of Sunset's head and shoulders at that very moment.

"You listen to me, Adagio," the mortal threatened, her teal eyes ablaze. "If you or either of your two friends ever try to come near CHS again, I'm going to—"

"So, it is there!" Adagio breathed, pointing a matching finger in Sunset's direction. "I knew it!"

The stunned girl gawked and bumbled for a moment before appearing to silently concede that there was no way to erase her slip up.

By this time, Adagio had already turned to leave whilst fumbling for one of the many notebooks piled in her arms. Upon finding the one that she was looking for, a navy blue, hardbound log, she flung it open in one hand, and with the other, reached into her tightly coiled hair to retrieve the pen she had been hiding therein. Maneuvering expertly around the items in her grasp, she chicken scratched something onto a fresh page. Realizing that Sunset had not automatically decided to follow along, she groaned loudly, and spun about. This mortal was proving quite the nuisance, not that this was entirely unexpected for the little pissant who had robbed them of their very means of survival.

"Aren't you coming?"

She posed the question as a mother would to a child. The absolute authority that she exuded only encouraged another growl from Sunset who clenched her fist in order to maintain her composure. Taking a deep breath, the girl hitched her bookbag back onto her shoulder, and stomped along in Adagio's direction.

Seeing Sunset perform this act of obedience brought a bit of relief and even confidence to Adagio. At once, she felt proud of the precision of her own instincts. Who exactly did this little mortal think she was, throwing a tantrum and trying to threaten her like that? Didn't she comprehend that after such a long life spent reading and mimicking beings like her, what utter folly it was to attempt a bluff of emotions under the honed gaze of a Siren? If the same seasoned instincts had not also told her to do otherwise, Adagio would have certainly found a moment to laugh in the girl's face.

The weather remained rather pleasant as the two of them worked their way past the sparse spattering of lunch breakers and elderly that were currently walking the promenade. The deeper they ventured into the ornamental greenery that shrouded the place, the more it seemed as if they were entering an old country garden instead of leaving a shopping strip. To Adagio, something about it all struck her as familiar.

Eventually, after turning a corner, the preoccupied immortal froze and raised her nose skyward. Seeing this, Sunset became rather tense. Her eyes darted about anxiously as if expecting some unseen attacker to bound from the thick, gaudy foliage at any minute.

To the mortal's apparent relief, around the bend, hidden within a quaintly-paved cocoon of tall greenery, and far away from the distracting sounds of the strip, sat an enormous fountain. Adagio smiled at the sight of the lonely enclave. Her gaze leveled off as she approached the large stone basin, ran a palm along its flat rim, and peered inside. The grin faltered when she noticed that the beautiful structure was completely dry.

"Mm. Shame," she murmured, clicking her tongue against her teeth. Forgetting that she and Sunset were not exactly on amicable terms, she turned her head around, and passed the girl a saccharine smile. "I absolutely love these things, you know."

Sunset eyed her over suspiciously as if she was expecting for the other energy-sucking, fang-toothed shoe to drop at any second. When it did not, she pulled the bookbag from her shoulder, and quickly headed toward the one, lonely park bench that kept the fount company.

"They turn all of the fountains off as soon as it starts to get chilly, I think," she replied, her eyes remaining trained upon the Siren as she rounded toward the bench. "I suppose no one really wants to sit out here for long after it gets cold."

Adagio, who had again managed to get lost in the image of the empty fountain, seemingly perked up at the girl's words. Her flickering, berry red eyes peered back over her shoulder, just visible above the thick curl of orange that had fallen out of place and onto her neck. Turning around, she set her books down, and leaned back against the carved granite.

"Of course they wouldn't," the Siren sighed as both of her hands raised, and at once, began to tuck every loose strand of hair back into place. "That would make sense."

Adagio's eyes continued to burn into Sunset in a way that seemed to set the mortal on edge. She watched as the pitiful thing slowly lowered herself onto the empty bench, and clutched her bookbag to her chest.

"Why did you bring me here?" she inquired coldly, curling into herself.

Adagio huffed as she watched the expected streams of green seeping and stewing out of the other girl. With her hair now adjusted, she again leaned back against the fountain, and passed Sunset a smug smile.

"You can drop the whole ice queen bit, you know. I didn't bring you here to try to harm you."

Sunset's scowl only deepened. "Forgive me if I appear less than trusting of those words coming from you."

Adagio blinked.

"I suppose I deserve that," she sighed, looking down at her side whilst rubbing invisible circles into the fountain stone with her finger, "but I think there's something else important you might want to keep in mind if you're so set on being unpleasant."

Her fingernail hitched up a small pebble, and she flicked it into the basin. It landed somewhere against one of the many coins that littered its bottom with a sharp 'ping'.

"Unpleasantness only makes me hungrier."

The Siren passed an unsmiling glare in Sunset's direction, and kept it there until things between them felt sufficiently eerie. "So, if you don't mind, as a personal favor to me, would you please at least try to relax? I don't get to have dinner for another six hours, and you're going to drive me nuts."

Sunset studied her for a moment. Taking one last glance around the leafy enclave, she moved to set her bag down at her side.

"I know how much your shiny, little reputation means to you, despite what lies you may try to tell me," Adagio beamed, almost too brightly. "Don't worry. If there was anyone else snooping about, I would've smelled them by now."

Sunset rolled her eyes, and finally relaxed into her seat. Crossing her arms and legs, she glowered at the Siren before finally losing patience with the all-encompassing silence hovering between them.

"So, what're you a hound dog now or something?" the girl posed, cocking an insolent eyebrow. She smiled when this drew a sneer from the Siren.

"Please, Shimmer. A hound dog wishes it had a sniffer like mine, not to mention, this figure," she quipped, running a hand along the seam of her skirt. It hitched itself in the crook of her waist as she watched Sunset blinking at her in the dimmest of ways. "Oh, by the blessed seas, I can see and smell energies, you dull, little nit—"

This was no good, no good at all. Increasingly, the proverbial noose was tightening about Adagio's neck, and if she had any plans on making this scheme work, she would have to find an opening in the conversation before either she or Sunset lost their patience. There had to be something she could latch onto that would allow her to prod at the girl's heart, better yet, her sense of self righteousness. Seeing that the mortal was beginning to look increasingly perturbed, Adagio flicked a piece of dirt from the underside of her fingernail, and inhaled some calm.

"Let's not do this, Shimmer. I don't have time to play these games of wit with you. What we are isn't even close to what we used to be, and you should know all about that, being from Equestria."

Come on; give me something to work with, Shimmer.

Sunset's gaze slid to the side as she pondered upon something.

"Actually, no. I don't. Those legends are ancient history over there, and really only cover the basics: scaly monsters, beautiful but fearsome, singing and destruction. I'm afraid any greater details about you three have mostly been lost to time."

The bridge of Adagio's nose visibly wrinkled at this revelation.

"Hm. Pity," the Siren muttered before taking another deep breath, and shaking the thought from her mind. "Well, I suppose that's to be expected. We have been lost to our home for upward of a thousand years."

Something that appeared to be empathy flashed across Sunset's face. This was not lost on Adagio.

Come on, you.

"That is a pretty long time." A pause. "But, you can't really say that you three didn't get what you deserved. Actions do all have their consequences."

Adagio paused for a moment. The whispers of a notion prodded at the ancient and well-honed part of her mind. Slowly, a smile etched its way across her face.

Gotcha, Shimmer.

"Some would say we deserved much worse," the Siren murmured, passing a humored glance in Sunset's direction.

This unsavory joke appeared to make something in the mortal girl's stomach lurch. She now looked rather nauseous.

"And you? What do you think, Sunset?" Adagio pressed, seeing her pathway to victory now opening up before her.

As she formed her mouth around her next words, something unexpected, again, tugged at her heart. Her mind flitted back to a time and place most had forgotten, a time before they had become the creatures they were destined to become. Of course no one alive would recall this time. No one could know what gross amount of suffering was necessary to birth in someone such a voracity for carnage. All that a selfish mortal would want to remember was how they had personally been wronged; not whether or not they had wronged another.

At least she and her sisters, for the entire length of their existence as Sirens, had learned to be far more honest with themselves. Never once did they deny that what they did was cruel. On the contrary, they acknowledged that it was, and continued to lay their destruction in order to fill their bellies and as punishment for all the foulness that had been bestowed upon them. Neither side was clean or guiltless as far as the Sirens were concerned, and in the end, neither side would lack for suffering or sadness. This was the way of the world as their wounded hearts had understood it.

"Do you think we deserve worse?" Adagio breathed, self pity threatening to cloud her thoughts. Something glistened in the corner of her eye, and she quickly swatted it dry with one hand.

Sunset hesitated.

"I... I... Why are you asking me this, Adagio? Where exactly is this going?"

Adagio glowered. Sunset's suspicions were only working to prove the Siren's point. Mortals would much rather direct a damning finger toward others rather than themselves. Even now, Adagio knew that Sunset could never fathom that her hatred for the Sirens might have ever been the slightest bit misguided. After all, she had never even known them, and legends had a fine way of skewing the truth of a matter.

"I'm asking you because I want to know what you would do with us if you had the choice," Adagio stated, standing up straighter than before. "You know who we are and what we've done better than anyone else in this world. You're the one who ultimately defeated us, aren't you?"

The Siren toed the ground in front of her before taking a small step in Sunset's direction.

"So, Sunset, if it were up to you, if we were at your mercy, would you deem us deserving of worse punishment?"

Sunset's lips drew tight. A haunted expression seemed to encompass her as if she was trying to force down her own hidden memories. Even still, she eventually managed to open her mouth.

"We don't live in a world like that, Adagio. There are no supposeds or "do-overs" as far as the past is concerned. There is only what happened. I can't change anything to my will even if I wanted it badly. No one can do that, at least not in this world."

Adagio's eyes went dark.

"Can't they?" she chuckled, catching sight of a large gray and blue plane arching its way across the sky, and following its path with her eyes. "And here I was, thinking that you were smart. Silly me."

"What are you talking about?" Sunset inquired, tilting her head in confusion.

The Siren sighed. Eternity was a long time, and she had seen it all up to this point. Despite her impatience for mortals, who seemed more like children to her than anything else, she knew that their ignorance and lack of complexity was hardly their fault. They had a skewed and myopic vision, one that needed coddling if it was to remain steady and sane. Learning how to mimic this instinctual need for emotional comfort was far from difficult, but the agitated immortal had to admit that it did prove quite monotonous after doing it for hours on end.

"Oh, for Chaos' sake," Adagio huffed, pounding an impatient fist against stone, and then making an imposing beeline toward the other girl. "I swear, you mortals waste your short lives, stammering, stuttering, and tip toeing around each others' insignificant little feelings."

"H-hey! Back off!" Sunset yelped, pressing her back into the bench as Adagio loomed over her.

"The question I asked you was quite simple, its implications very straight forward, but allow me to clarify, if I really must," Adagio posed, her voice clear, head held high. "Do you, Sunset Shimmer, believe we, the three Sirens, deserve to die?"

At first, Sunset stared at Adagio in perturbed disbelief. Cocking an eyebrow, she moved to sit up. Her fingernails tapped against the wood of the bench, letting off a series of soft clicks.

"I don't know what I would do, okay?" she spat. Before she could say another word Adagio had already reached up toward her bun. Eyeing her cautiously, Sunset continued on. "I've never been in a position to be able to kill you, and I doubt I ever will—"

"You and your damned false displays of civility and mercy," Adagio grumbled, now wrenching at her hair. "Who, exactly, are you attempting to lie to? Me or yourself?"

Pulling hard at her knot of tresses one last time, the Siren finally managed to draw out her pen. Clicking its tip up with her thumb, she then gripped the thing in one, hardened fist.

"We're gonna get a real answer out of you yet, Sunset Shimmer. "

Sunset's eyes went wide. She tensed, and began to edge her way back up to her feet.

"Adagio? You need to calm down," the girl breathed, carefully extending an open hand in the Siren's direction.

Her eyes on fire, Adagio lunged forward, and grabbed hold of Sunset's wrist. The girl yelped, and tried to pull away, thinking the Siren was attempting to do her harm. Instead, she felt the infuriated immortal draw her hand up, press the pen into her palm, and close her fist around it.

"Stop struggling!" the Siren hissed, almost getting thrown to the ground in the process. She should have guessed that Sunset would have been stronger than she looked. Then again, Adagio had never really considered herself one for close contact combat. If only Aria were here...

"Get off of me!" Sunset screeched in an enraged panic.

Yanking her closer by the collar, Adagio forced the girl's pen-equipped fist upward. The Siren raised her neck so that its tip came to rest directly against her own jugular.

"Move again, and you might push it in!" the Siren screamed, forcing Sunset into stunned stillness.

The two glared at each other, quite disheveled and out of breath. Seeing the pen forcefully held against Adagio's throat by her own hand made Sunset's knees begin to shake. Yet, the Siren never wavered.

The scene was engulfed in a haze of murky green. Its scent made Adagio's nose twitch, and the hairs upon her arms stand on end. She wanted to smile, but couldn't for fear of ruining such a beautiful moment.

"Here it is, Sunset. Here's your chance." The calm in her voice seemed to settle the nerves of the girl before her. Gradually, she loosened her grip on her fist. "Do you know what so many mortals— pony and human alike—would give for the opportunity you've just been handed? Countless kings, armies, mercenaries, and wizards have tried, and not one has ever been able to get this close to us. Not one. Those who did, we destroyed. Mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, beloved leaders full of their little, mortal hopes and dreams, all dashed, all devoured."

A glimmer of understanding crept over Sunset's face. Adagio felt the girl tighten her grip upon the pen.

So simple, this one.

"You've been given the chance to avenge them. You could be a hero, Sunset. All you would have to do is push. I won't fight you."

The girl was really thinking now. Adagio found she didn't even have to hold her hand in place anymore.

It was yet another risk. Despite what she might have wanted to happen, Adagio knew that a gamble like this, putting herself in a vulnerable position, carried with it the potential for very real harm. Still, it was a chance she was willing to take. Death was inevitable anyway if all was left unchanged. In the best case scenario, Sunset would do what the Siren predicted she would, and in the slightly less good but still pretty acceptable scenario, her unending troubles would cease right then and there.

"I've destroyed many lives before you took our powers away, Sunset," Adagio murmured, her voice wavering. "Many lives. Do you judge me worthy of death for doing this?"

Sunset's brow was beaded with sweat. Slowly, her arm pulled back. Adagio gulped, and closed her eyes. For this one, miniscule moment, her life rested in Sunset's hands. Whatever might happen next, it would be of her choosing.

It didn't take too long before the Siren heard her pen clatter to the ground. Her eyes shot open to see Sunset standing before her, shaken but proud, and shivering so badly she looked as if she might collapse.

"What good would it do?" the mortal girl croaked. "And why give you the pleasure of seeing that I could be as weak and selfish as you three were... are."

This statement was unexpected. It made Adagio bristle to hear it, an action which she quickly tried to conceal by turning around and adjusting her hair.

"You may deserve all that you bring upon yourself, but not by my hand. I beat you already remember?" Sunset scoffed, a grin spreading across her lips. When Adagio didn't react, she turned to snatch up her bookbag instead. "This was a mistake. I'm outta here."

Taking a step toward the pathway, Sunset paused briefly, to smirk at the Siren. "I wouldn't kill you, Adagio, as much as some might say that you deserve it."

With her back turned, Adagio knew the girl was unable to see her own sinister grin.

So simple.

"You already have," the Siren shot, stopping the mortal in her tracks.

"What are you talking about?" Sunset breathed, spinning about to face her once more.

"You've already killed us three, Sunset. You killed us the moment you shattered our pendants," Adagio continued, her voice sounding more sure of itself by the second. "That was our way of life. With our pendants gone, we can't feed or sustain ourselves, and we will die. We can't protect ourselves, and we will die."

Adagio watched on as Sunset seemed to gawk at her. At once, her world began to brighten, the birds flitting around the small garden seemed to be calling out a victory song. Never could the Siren have predicted that the next thing out of the mortal's mouth would be a ridiculing chuckle. The sound of it snapped her out of her self indulgent reverie.

"I see what you're trying to do, Adagio, and it isn't going to work," Sunset sneered, shaking her head. "Whatever has happened, you've brought it upon yourself. So don't you dare try to pin this on me. If you hadn't attempted to take over this world, starting with CHS, then none of this would have happened to you. But you took that gamble, Adagio, and you lost. Now it's time for you to deal with the consequences."

Well, that was unexpected too.

Adagio stammered as she watched Sunset walk away. This time, the stunned expression on her face was genuine.

"W-wait a minute," the Siren stuttered. "Stop!"

"No, you stop, Adagio!" Sunset barked, spinning around and jabbing a finger in her direction. "How dare you drag me here, claim that you're not up to something, try to manipulate me, and then expect for me to feel sorry for you? Even now, there's nothing but selfishness in your heart. You don't feel remorse for anything you've done, do you?"

The Siren found herself at a loss for words.

Wait. No. This is all wrong.

"Tell me the truth," Sunset pressed. "Up until this moment, you weren't really feeling afraid or unsure about what was going to happen here today, were you?"

Her teal eyes thinned into small, spiteful slits.

"Well, how about now, Adagio? Are any of those feelings genuine now?"

"Sunset, what are you t—?" Adagio blubbered. The unsure sound of her own voice only worked to provoke her. "Aren't you supposed to be righteous, and... What happened to—"

"Wanting to help people? Wanting to keep an eye on you?" Sunset scoffed. "Oh, Adagio, I see you for what you are so clearly now. The exterior is the tricky part to try to get past, I will admit, but still, the truth is clear. I know that behind that flesh and those bones, the illusion of warmth and a heartbeat, your pretty face, and that thing that passes for a personality, there is nothing. Nothing at all except for selfishness. You're not a person, Adagio; you're a monster, and now I can see that there's nothing in you that might possibly be worthy of my time."

A beat of silence passed between the two. Adagio's chest heaved with an indescribable feeling. She felt dizzy. Her body trembled. Her lips curled inward, tightly sealing themselves shut. All of her energy was now concentrated on keeping herself upright.

"Stay away from CHS. This is your last warning," Sunset murmured almost pityingly before heading further down the path.

The Siren's eyelids fluttered, blinking too rapidly to focus on anything in their line of sight.

What had just happened here? A moment ago, she was merely ticking off box one on the list of things needed in order to save her life and the lives of her sisters. Now, in an instant, it would seem as if...

Wait a minute. Had she just been condemned?

It took only a second for realization to hit Adagio like a chucked brick. She had become too confident in her assumptions about Sunset. Alas, the true nature of her reality—helplessness—had now caught up to her in a startling way.

As the Siren stood there, racking her brain for something, anything that might allow her to deny this notion of futility, her knees seemed to give way until she found herself again sitting upon the edge of the fountain.

What now? What was one supposed to do when their fate rested in the hands of a being who already held far too much contempt for them? Adagio had made a promise to her sisters. She had allowed herself to sound so certain, so sure. Why? Had it always been this way? Had she always been putting on this air of confidence in front of her cohorts in situations where she shouldn't have felt certain of herself at all?

How could she face them now? How could she tell Sonata and Aria that she had tried, but that their only real option had fallen through?

That fearful look in Aria's eye the evening Starshot had come after her replayed itself over and over in Adagio's mind. Everything about that look, the look of someone close to her being fearful for their life, wrecked her. What would Aria look like if she told her she was out of options? The eldest Siren dreaded what kind of solutions her sister might come up with on her own.

"No, no," she stammered to herself, clutching her head in her hands. It had to be Sunset. Sunset or nothing.

"Sunset?"

By now, the mortal girl had traversed too far a distance to hear her. Looking around to find no one there, Adagio quickly snatched up her belongings, and raced out into the promenade. The strolling crowd had thickened from the sparse scattering of people who they had seen on their way in, but eventually she managed to spot that flash of fiery orange and yellow hair making its way down its center. Rushing forward before Sunset could turn the corner toward the parking lot, Adagio zipped in front of her to block her way.

"Sunset... I..." Her mouth fumbled for words.

Sunset, peering at her impatiently, moved to walk around her. The Siren dodged to the right to block her again.

"What, Adagio?" Sunset raged, making a few heads turn in their direction. "I've said everything that I've needed to say to you. Go find what you're looking for somewhere else!"

Being scolded in such a manner bruised an ancient and proud part of Adagio, a part of her that she thought invincible. In this vulnerable state, however, that confidence that she had once collected about her straight posture and uplifted chin slowly began to collapse.

Her lips drew tight. She forced her head up high as if trying to give off the air of pride she could no longer command; in the end, this only worked to make her appear more desperate than confident. Her eyes, usually filled with reserved cunning, were now wide and dull. They stared at Sunset with failing courage as the Siren's chest began to heave. It looked as if she might retch.

Sunset watched on, growing quite uncomfortable as Adagio's facade of invincibility began to crumble before her very eyes.

"One week," the Siren breathed, fists clenched, knuckles gone white, eyes directed toward the pavement. "That's all I ask of you, Shimmer. One week for me to prepare for, present to, and convince you of why we are worth your help."

The deflated immortal felt herself trembling. Sunset seemed at a loss for words. For a moment, it looked as if she might cede to Adagio's persistence, but gradually the girl's expression hardened. Her head began to shake.

"Adagio... I..."

"Please!" the enchantress blurted as if the words had been forced from her throat. Her body was quaking now. Her ruby gaze slid upward to meet Sunset's.

"Please."

The word came far easier the second time. An ache began to encompass the Siren's skull. Her head bobbed about dizzily as she felt beads of sweat beginning to form on her forehead, even in the cool, early autumn air.

Sunset searched every inch of the Siren's face for any feature that might betray her true, nefarious intentions. It would seem that she found none, and rightfully so. In this moment, Adagio radiated only sincere and desperate determination.

"One week, Adagio."

Oh, merciful seas. Did she just say...

"One. Week," the mortal girl repeated very slowly so that the Siren might not misunderstand her. "I'll see you then, same time, same place."

Adagio didn't nod, she didn't speak, she didn't move. Determined to keep whatever image of dignity and power she had remaining, she stood tall as Sunset moved past her and on toward the lot.

—-

A knock.

No answer. Adagio wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of a book-laden hand.

Take a deep breath, and...

Some ferocious banging, and this time the door opened.

"Adagio! You're late today. I didn't think you were gonna make it."

Adagio blinked at the ebony-haired, green-eyed symbol of mortal perfection standing before her, taunting her with his happy disposition. She felt her left eye twitch of its own accord. It took all of her strength not to lunge forward to slap all of that accursed positivity right out of the man's stupid, perfect, little head.

"If I wasn't going to show up, Striker, I would have called," the Siren muttered, dropping her jacket into his hands as she sauntered past him. "I take offense to your suggesting that I wouldn't let my students know when I'm not gonna show."

Striker chuckled, and ruffled his hair.

"Sorry for being assumptive, but it isn't like it's unfounded. You have seemed really preoccupied lately."

She felt her eyes nearly roll right out of their sockets. Today was most certainly not the most ideal time to have Striker on her schedule. Still plagued by the feeling of powerlessness that followed her back from the mall, the Siren now found herself with a sudden hankering for mortal suffering and subordination. Creatures like Sunset and Striker, they were supposed to be her meals, not her masters. The fact that she was now forced to subject herself to their whims seemed unfair, unjust, and completely unnatural. Every perfectly posed photograph upon his mantelpiece, every quaintly patterned piece of precisely placed furniture, upon sight, would usually jab her like a thorn in the side, but today of all days, it felt more like a dagger.

Why did Striker care so much about how she was doing? Why was he always asking and prodding with that same, sweet, insufferable smile? Was it because he didn't have enough problems of his own to worry about?

Adagio snorted.

Apparently not.

She felt his eyes follow her to the coffee table where she plopped down all the books that she didn't plan on using for her lessons. Upon turning to catch him staring, her impatience only increased.

"What?" she inquired with a shrug. "Why are you looking at me that way?"

Striker ran a hand across the back of his neck.

"What... what's been going on with you, Adagio? You look especially worn thin today. I mean, you've been looking like that for a while, like I said, but today, especially..."

Adagio huffed, throwing her head back so that she might silently supplicate the ceiling fan for more patience. Turning around, she continued sifting through her lesson plans. Nope. Absolutely no time whatsoever for Striker and his unfathomable capacity for empathy today. His life was good—a problem she was still hoping to rectify—and his worries, if he had any, were most certainly infinitesimal in comparison to hers.

"Do you... Maybe you should sit down for a second, huh?" the man continued.

Be quiet, god dammit, you insufferable, bleeding hearted—

"You want a glass of water or—"

"Striker!" Adagio bellowed, spinning about to face him. One fist was clenched within the other, pairing quite well with her eerily disingenuous smile. "I'm fine! So, just stop it, alright?"

He stared at her quizzically.

"Stop what? All I'm saying is that if you need to take time to rest or think, that you're free to take it."

Adagio's palm slapped against her forehead. What was wrong with people like this anyway? Didn't perfectly kind beings like Striker understand that the rest of the world's miserable hoard only desired for people like him to be as unhappy as they were?

Raising her booklet-filled hands in defeat, Adagio, bowed her head, and walked past the distressed man toward the studio.

"Alright, Striker," she sniffed, shaking her head. "You go ahead and keep worrying about every little thing, and join me when you're done. I just hope you worry this much about your dynamics, because I'm expecting these concertos to be damn near perfect."

With that, she entered the studio, and paused for a moment behind the threshold.

"And I swear if you bring a glass of water in here, I'm gonna throw it on your keyboard."

The door slammed shut so hard, it shook an adjacent picture frame from its place upon the wall.

—-

Obviously, I'll have to work on making us seem more personable in the little morsel's eyes. Perhaps if she could find a point of relation, she would begin to put herself in our position.

"Piano, Striker. It's piano here."

But it's not as if I'm at liberty to go about saying whatever I want about our pasts out loud. That time scouring bastard would definitely find a way to use it against us.

"Pianissimo here, Striker. For the last time, you can't just cut corners by playing them the same way."

By the seas, I hope Aria and Sonata are keeping their big mouths shut.

"Okay, you can turn the page now, Adagio."

But then again, they're both just as experienced with hiding things. Why am I so worried about that? Out of all the things that I could—

"Adagio!"

"What?" the Siren barked, snapping out of her own thoughts to pass the man beside her an agitated glare. As usual, he met it with passive defiance. Cocking an eyebrow at her, he leaned forward onto the keyboard and sighed.

"You were supposed to turn the page, but I suppose it doesn't matter now."

The Siren grimaced in confusion.

"What are you talking about? Just turn it yourself," she muttered. Motioning with her hand, she gave Striker the usual signal to slide over so that she might play.

Starting from the beginning, her seasoned fingers zipped through the concerto, lingering on an expanse of keys before she expertly reached up at blinding speed while one hand was still playing, and, with the other, flipped the page.

"It's not rocket science, for Pete's sake!"

Even after reprimanding the mortal, her fingers continued to play on. The solemn frown upon her face gave credence to the fact that her mind had wandered a million miles away.

Striker presented to her a pitying look, and when she did not stop her playing, even past the end of the notations, he sighed and shook his head again.

"Adagio, you don't have to put yourself through this lesson if—"

"Striker, one more nicety, and I swear to God..." the Siren grumbled below her breath, perhaps by instinct alone. Her eyes, which stared ahead into nothingness, had gone all glassy.

There was a portion of the piece currently rushing from her fingers that waxed repetitive. Three times the player was expected to roll through an arpeggio upward in a crescendo toward a blaring D sharp. Three times, as the song echoed throughout the studio, a C sharp was struck instead.

"D sharp," Adagio corrected when the first one was struck. She continued to stare ahead at the wall.

I suppose if there was a way to speak to Sunset without making a sound. Oh, dear Discord, Adagio. Now you've really lost it.

Again the discordant note was struck.

"D sharp, I said, Striker!" she groaned, the sound of it making an unpleasant shiver roll up her spine.

"Adagio..." she heard the man grumble. He was promptly ignored.

Hm. Or maybe not. Perhaps there is a way that I could speak to her without—

On the last tap upon the incorrect key, Adagio found that her well of tolerance for the mortal's downright disrespectful playing had finally run dry.

"Striker!" she cried, pounding a fist upon the keys. "Would you do me the kindness of explaining what exactly it is that you're paying me for?"

"Adagio!" Striker yelled.

"What?" the Siren shot back.

"I'm not playing anything!"

The air went still. Adagio suddenly found herself snapped back into reality. Dropping her gaze down to her own fingers, clenched against the keys, her brow furrowed as she tried to compute the notion that she not only might have forgotten that she was even playing, but that she might have also played a mistake three times in a row.

For shame. What blasphemy.

"Wha?" she breathed, her eyes sliding upward to meet Striker's. He was giving her a patronizing smirk, one that almost made her feel sick to her stomach. At once, she retracted her closed fists to her side, and stood up straight. This was far too much degradation for a single Siren to handle in only one day.

"Excuse me," she croaked before performing a rather mechanical half pirouette, and briskly marching off toward the bathroom.

Bent over the sink, Adagio very nearly found a sense of calm whilst staring into the infinite void of the drain hole. At some point, after repeatedly splashing her entire head with cold water, her hand had managed to shut the faucet off, allowing her the silence and privacy necessary to gather herself back into some sort of mental coherency.

Standing up straight, she happened to spy her frazzled visage in the mirror and instantly frowned when she saw that dark circles were beginning to form around her eyes. She thought she had avoided this, unlike her sisters, seeing as how it was assumed to be a symptom of energy withdrawal. Now, glaring at her tired face in the glass, Adagio could feel quite clearly that what was tearing her apart was good, old fashioned worry and fatigue.

Wincing to herself, the Siren turned around, and headed toward the door, feeling quite averse to finishing her lessons, especially in such a depressingly happy setting that could never be her own to claim. Still, money was money, and she and her sisters very much needed it.

Upon her exit, she was met with the off putting sight of Striker staring at her from where he stood in the living room. In his hand, much to the Siren's dismay, was a tall glass of crystalline water.

"I know what you're gonna say," the annoyingly overzealous mortal chuckled, "but I still think you should sit for a second and drink some of this. Just a little bit."

There went her left eyelid, twitching uncontrollably, again. The sight of the container in Striker's hand seemed to set her off, and suddenly, it became the only thing she could see.

This mortal, and his stupid, little glass of water. The now sufficiently pissed Siren imagined that his troubles and sense of self honesty ran equally as deep. Her foot took an involuntary step toward him, then another, and another.

"I promise it will make you feel better," the man murmured nervously as she stood before him, staring down at that infernal glass. As he said these words, her burning red gaze shifted up to meet his.

At long last, she had found it, that oh, so elusive 'last nerve' that everyone was always harping on about. Why didn't mortals simply obey her commands and shut up anymore? Clearly, this was intentional disrespect, and Striker needed to be taught a lesson. A dose of reality should do the trick, administered by way of the ol' tried and true Siren method: fucking with his head.

"Let me get this straight," the Siren cackled softly whilst crossing her arms. "You think that this glass of water is somehow going to make me feel better?"

They stared at each other for only a moment before she swung her arm forward, slapping the glass out of his hand. It smashed against the far wall above the fireplace, sending a few of the household's perfectly perfect pictures crashing to the floor.

Striker gawked in disbelief.

"Alright," he coughed, forcing a patient nod of his head. It became clear that he was now trying, unsuccessfully, to keep an even temper.

Scratching his dark hair, he turned about to go fetch a broom and dustpan just as Adagio reached out and clenched onto his sleeve. Turning him back 'round to face her, she proceeded to poke a finger into his chest.

"You know what just burns me up about people like you, Striker? Hm?" she murmured, her eyes digging into his. "The fact that you have a skewed vision of what real problems are."

Save for the small forehead crease that had managed to break through his stoic expression, there was no trace of anger or annoyance on Striker's face, but still Adagio smiled as she watched that lovely green beginning to pour out of him in waves.

"When you woke up this morning, what was that one terrible thing that you had to fight out of your head? You know, that one nagging part of your life that you try to bury, but can't. It just ends up haunting you for years and years. What is it for you, Striker? Tax refunds? Remembering what flavor cake to buy for your kid's birthday, perhaps? Do you even know what it means to betormented?"

She prodded at the man harder, forcing him to retreat. Behind him sat a large recliner. Its floral pattern, quite similar to the suicide-inducing display that Adagio remembered from Ms. Crescendo's sitting room, ignited her rage.

"Why is everything in here so goddamned happy?" Adagio growled. "Nobody is this content!"

These stupid mortals and their unending quests to convince themselves that everything in their little world would be alright would surely be what drove her mad. The way they always feigned some false semblance of control over their lives when they had none at all would always confound her.

"Okay, Adagio? Now you're starting to piss me off." Striker growled, scratching at his rolled sleeves. He took her shoulders in his hands, and began to push her away. "If you didn't want the water, you could have just said no, but you're not going to march around this place breaking anymore of my shit, alright?"

"Aw, perfect, little Striker is perfectly pissed," Adagio laughed, reveling in the scent of the energy now surrounding them both."I guess he does know what torment is, after all!"

She made the kind of patronizing face that one would give to a child who had just dropped their ice cream cone.

"You don't know what problems are," the Siren ridiculed him, her eyes going wide and bright. Pressing both of her palms against his chest, she shoved him back hard. He flailed for about a second before landing in the chair that sat behind him. Without wasting a moment, she slipped off her shoes, and joined him, straddling the dumbstruck man with her legs. Planting her hands to the seat back on either side of his shoulders, she leaned forward and pressed her forehead against his.

"But I'm gonna give you some, right now," she hissed.

Striker ogled her, clearly at a loss for words, but looking quite insistent upon finding them.

"A... Adagio," he croaked, his green eyes going wider the longer they peered into hers.

The Siren hushed him with a finger to the lips, and a coy smile.

"I've got a question for you, Striker," she began matter-of-factly, rubbing the pads of her fingers together. "Have you ever felt torn between wanting something and also wanting its complete antithesis?"

All the shaken mortal beneath her could manage was a silent "No," and a slow shake of the head.

"Really?" she replied, sounding quite fed up with what she deemed to be his human inclination to be passive in the face of another's distress. At once, she reached down, hiked up the hems of her skirt, took both his hands in hers, and planted them flat against the buttery flesh of her legs. "How about now?"

That was it; there, now in his eyes was the look Adagio had been longing for, that long lost look of mortal fear, regret, and betrayal of the naked truth: that she was in total control. The Siren couldn't remember the last time she had smiled as genuinely as she was doing right at that very moment. It only made her chuckle more when she watched the flustered mortal's eyelids sink shut, and heard him take a deep, rattling breath.

"Adagio, get out," he croaked, sounding in every way as if he didn't mean it. "And don't think about ever—"

"Okay, Striker, here's the thing," the enchantress huffed boredly, cupping a hand over his mouth. "You seem to be missing one of the key themes of this lesson: honesty. If there was ever a time to be sincere and upfront with yourself, I would say that now would be it."

She stared him down, trying her best not to laugh. After receiving no reply, she shook her head.

"No? Well, I suppose I should just tell you what's going to happen, then. First of all, Striker, I'm not going anywhere, and I'll tell you why: You find me attractive. I know this, because everyone finds me attractive. It's alright; nothing to be ashamed about. But I will warn you that if I were to leave right now, this thought, this very moment would haunt you. Sure, it'll happen while you're alone and in that quiet space in your head, but even more so when you look at Cathy's face, and when you're sitting at dinner with your family, and when you go to sleep at night. In fact, it's going to haunt you so badly that upon my return next week—which you will await with baited breath—you'll probably end up snatching my clothes off right there at the door."

She nudged her chin in the front door's direction. Her shoulders bobbed jovially.

"And we wouldn't want that, would we? You've got to allow time for situations like these to de-escalate. Hence, my staying."

The Siren leaned against one elbow, and stared thoughtfully toward the ceiling, almost as if she was in the middle of some mundane classroom lecture. In the meantime, she continued to press her legs against him, forcing his hands further up her skirt, and preventing him from getting up unless he had a plan to drag her along to wherever he might escape.

"Now, this presents you with a rather precarious choice to make, Striker, and believe me it's gonna be a difficult one," she hummed. "Would you rather, oh I don't know, get off of my case and allow me the freedom to stew in my bad mood whilst we power through the next hour of your inevitable defilement of classical music, or would you like to stop being so damned disingenuous in my presence and spend that hour doing something that would actually make me feel better? Hm?"

Her eyes went dark, as she pushed herself harder against him.

"The choice is yours, Mr. Perfect."

Striker gulped, and took a deep breath, too afraid to move, lest some part of either of them traveled somewhere it wasn't supposed to. He cautiously slid his eyes toward the open doorway of his studio.

"The lessons. Just... let's do the piano lessons," he croaked. His head began to nod, looking more like a nervous tremor than anything else.

Adagio smiled pityingly at him, allowing her cheek to rest in the palm of her hand.

"Do you know what's so refreshing about that?" she purred. "The fact that now we both know that you're being phony."

Her eyes trailed downward to somewhere below his waistline. She chuckled and cocked a slim eyebrow. "Very blatantly, I might add."

Quickly and purposefully, she stood up, and straightened her skirt back into place. The sweat that had accumulated on Striker's palms still clung to her skin.

"No, you're not gonna tell me to leave, Striker; not anymore," she mused, watching his eyes involuntarily follow the fading flesh below her skirt. She directed a finger upward, and twirled it around, motioning toward the warmly painted and furnished room that surrounded them. "This happy little charade that you've got going on here is over. From now on, you're gonna torture yourself with being alone in my presence every week, wondering if it will finally be the week that you gather the gumption to show me what it looks like when you're actually being honest. And it will hurt you even more because you'll know that I'm willing to oblige you if... when you do."

She leaned against the armrest of the recliner. The expression on her face was calm, unfazed, the visage of a true villain. "Now you know what torment is, Striker, and now you've got one big, fat problem. Congratulations!"

Briefly leaning forward to plant a quick kiss upon his lips, Adagio then turned about, and headed toward the kitchen, looking much more refreshed and quite pleased with herself. When she returned to him, she was holding a glass of water. Smirking at the sight of Striker still sitting in his seat, looking stunned, breathless, and quite "feverish", she then plopped the glass down upon a side table sitting next to him. The sound snapped him out of his shocked daze, and his head turned about to face her.

"You look like you need a minute," she whispered shooting him a devious wink. "Here. Why don't you have some water before we begin again? It'll make you feel better."

Her vindictive gaze cut into him like a knife. Standing up straight, she turned, and began sauntering off toward the studio.

"I'll be waiting," she grumbled under her breath, snatching up her notation booklets as she walked. "And this time, those concertos better be damned perfect!"

The studio door slammed shut behind her, and this time, the walls shook. Adagio delighted in the wicked notion that she could still be the one to destroy its very foundations. It wasn't quite as empowering and fulfilling as wielding her Siren magic, but it would do.

By Chaos, I needed that.

Destroying the very fabric of a mortal's peace of mind—It's what she did.

Shift

Sonata Dusk was dying.

As sure as the sun would rise—in this dimension, at least—death would find her one way or another, and the radiant, divine life that had breathed its first in that timeless, primordial deep, singing songs that the cosmos itself had whispered into her ear, would be over. Her glorious, eternal fire would quickly be snuffed or slowly starved until nothing was left but a sad, empty void that haunted the world with indecipherable tales of a terrible might and beauty that no longer was.

"Ew, gross! This is the absolute worst of the worst of the woooorst!"

Sonata whined and grumbled under her breath whilst busying herself with the task of sopping up yet another glass of spilled drink from a dirty table with one horribly smelly and overused rag.

"I swear I'm gonna make J.R. build me the hugest ice cream sundae on my break... with malted milk balls on it. And Adagio and Aria better not say anything about me having too much sugar this time, or else I'm never gonna bake a single pie or cake for them ever again!"

The youngest Siren instantly felt a tinge of guilt for having turned her displeasure onto her sisters, especially Adagio. She had always appreciated it when their elder felt inspired enough to include her in their planning sessions, and likewise, would try her best to pay as close attention as possible during these times. However, at that particular moment, it felt as if her own determination to be obedient and dutiful had risen up suddenly to bite her in the ass, so to speak. Now, as if having to account for all of the humdrum worries and woes of living a mortal life as a mostly powerless Siren wasn't torture enough, it was expected that she also attempt to function somewhat normally whilst toting around the knowledge that not only was she being hunted, but that her own body was slowly killing her. Yes, if there was ever a moment that might have warranted her lack of attention, it would have certainly been during their meeting that morning.

Naturally, the Siren found herself in a less than chipper mood at work that day; so "not chipper," in fact, that her drive to provide at least somewhat acceptable customer service was overshadowed by inklings of self pity and spite.

By the middle of her shift, after having "accidentally" dropped a plate of fries over the head of some rude codger who refused to shut up about all the things he was required to do during his childhood whilst barefoot and walking uphill, it was made clear that she would not be receiving much in ways of tips during this particular daily stint. Both her afternoon and her evening had officially been shot, and it only worked to make her more irritated when she was forced to acknowledge that this would bring about a small victory for that oh, so desired target onto which she was increasingly laying all of her frustrations—Patti.

It had been over a month since she had sunk her claws into the waitress and refused to let go, and yet even after all of this time, the silent battle between the brunette and the Siren was still raging on. Actually, if she were to be completely honest with herself, this odd predicament could no longer be compared to a battle so much as it was similar to the vulture-esque stalking of a dying animal. Still, Sonata couldn't help but lament over how involved the whole ordeal had become. If she had been anything less than a seasoned Siren, she would have surely thrown in the towel long ago. Even so, the wait for the inevitable, as well as the unexpected toll all of this was taking on her reputation and relationships, continued to be the hardest parts to bear.

"Three cheeseburgers, one no pickles, three shakes, one vanilla, two chocolate, and a basket of fries," Sonata prattled off after unceremoniously plopping an array of grilled, fried, and frozen delights upon one of her tables. She stole a moment to take a deep breath, and exhaled it sharply. Her eyes glued themselves upon the notepad clutched in her hand, quite determined to read the list off without the million mistakes she had made the five times prior.

"Is there anything else that I can get you ladies today?"

At last, her gaze shifted upward to stare at the three young women. To her surprise, they were all sitting there, smiling knowingly at her from behind their delicious spread of junk food.

They beamed.

She blinked.

They giggled.

She blinked again.

"What? Oh no. Do I have barbecue sauce on my forehead again?" she asked, her tone flat as she reached up to swipe at her fringe.

One of the girls turned about to pass a quick look toward her buddies who candidly nudged her in the shoulder for confidence. Spinning back around to face their waitress, she leaned forward upon the table, and shifted her weight from elbow to elbow.

"Say, uh, aren't you Sonata Dusk?" she began cautiously.

The Siren forced a wary smile, and reached up to tap her name tag.

"That's me, alright! Do, uh... do I know you girls or something?"

The table once again burst out into a fit of giggles. Beginning to feel a little nervous, especially at the first sign of green haze beginning to encapsulate the group, Sonata tugged at her fingers, and forced her smile even wider.

These mortals were an easy read. Green haze in thin, thready, streams? Its scent quite delicate at first with a pungent and heady musk to bring up the rear? Giggles all directed toward her?

Someone had been talking behind her back, and not in a nice manner.

Of course, there was no way for the Siren to decipher what exactly this secret topic of discussion had been, but heck, she'd been around this block a couple times over the past millennia. It didn't take too much guessing to figure out who the likely blabbermouth was.

"I'm starting to think you girls know something that I don't!" she clucked, her voice more of a rattle than a chuckle. Her fist clenched so tightly that the knuckles turned white.

Seeing the anxiousness growing upon the Siren's face, one of the girls, a stocky, violet-skinned woman, attempted to wave her worries away.

"We've just heard about you is all," she began, shooting a knowing smile at her. "From some others who work here."

None of them seemed to notice that the Siren's grin had faded, nor had they seen her gaze drift off to the space somewhere above their heads, lingering there.

"Forrealzies? Really good things though, right?" she inquired, already knowing the answer to the question. Her raspberry eyes grew grim.

"Oh, of course!" the violet girl bleated, flicking her wrist in the same, worry-alleviating way. "Sammy's is a fixture in this town, you know. Everybody ends up here, eventually. Word spreads!"

"It sure does," Sonata replied, forcing a chuckle. Things faded into an odd silence at that point as one party stared knowingly at the other. Catching herself through her daze, Sonata shook her head free of her own ruminations, cleared her throat, and shot a final grin toward the table.

"You girls enjoy your meal," she said, her tone not quite as jovial as usual. Turning about to walk off, she did not stop smiling until she had pushed her way through the red doors and into the kitchen.

The room was empty save for Peach and J.R; Patti and her friends had probably gone off to take their breaks by now. Standing by the grill, Sonata spotted the rather perturbed-looking pair having a notably discreet conversation. The cook was only half-heartedly working the cooktop as his head occasionally bobbed up and down at the impetus of Peach's words.

Both he and the angel-eyed girl ceased their hushed chattering when they noticed her approaching. Sonata eyed them suspiciously as they forced nervous grins, looking very much like children who'd just been caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Gazing around them, the Siren could not decipher any notable scent or green haze exuding from their bodies, so she decided that whatever their conversation might have been, it couldn't have proved much to worry about.

The slight odor emanating from beyond the back door, on the other hand, jabbed at her, shaking her into alertness.

"Uh, hey Sonny," Peach posed gently as the Siren walked in their direction. "Do you think you could make a minute when Patti and the other girls get—"

"Sorry, Peachy," Sonata cut in, finger raised and eyes trained unwaveringly upon the back door. "I'm gonna need just a second, kay?"

"Sonata, it's only gonna take a..." J.R. pressed, trailing off when it occurred to him that the driven waitress had not even heard him.

Plopping down her tray upon the counter, and pushing past the pair, Sonata walked up toward the rear doors and ambled through.

She found nothing surprising in the back, really. Only Patti who was digging around in her locker, the compartment's open door currently hiding her head from view. Pumpkin and Candy were nowhere in sight. The Siren deduced that they were probably awaiting their friend's arrival out in the parking lot.

Peeking around the edge of the locker, Sonata could see that the brunette's hair was now pulled back into a ponytail. It was an odd sight, not only for the fact that she could now have a gander at both of Patti's sparkling, blue eyes at the same time, but also because she knew that the girl was one to put a great deal of time and effort into her appearance, even whilst working such a humdrum job. Smiling at the sight of this, the Siren waited patiently behind the locker door until she had grabbed her jacket, and slammed the thing shut.

Patti leapt back in shock when her aquamarine eyes locked with Sonata's. Clutching her chest, she took a moment to catch her breath. Noticing the other waitress' expression slowly harden into one of disdain and apprehension, the Siren plastered on a bright, disarming smile.

"Heya, Patti!" she exclaimed.

"What do you want?" the girl spat, wrenching her jacket onto her body.

"Oh, nothin'. Just had a question for you is all," Sonata replied, her tone softening to a murmur as she eyed the green smog seeping from the mortal in a thin but constant stream. Casually, she walked around the grim waitress to place herself between her and the door to the lot.

"Yea, well, if you hadn't noticed, I'm in a bit of a rush," Patti growled, shoving her wallet into her pocket. "We don't all just get to lounge about on our breaks around here."

"Pssh. Tell me about it," Sonata replied with a flip of her wrist. "If I did that, then I wouldn't get nearly the same amount of tips that I do."

Patti was frowning now, but in a way that seemed more defeated than angry. Sonata could only wonder what it was that she had said wrong. She did work hard, didn't she? And she did make extra tips because of it. Granted, they weren't necessarily her tips to make, but all the same, her efforts had been reaping fruits.

"Listen," Patti croaked, suddenly sounding very tired. "Just stay away from me, alright? I've told you that like a million times, and for the life of me, I can't understand why it's such a difficult concept for you to grasp."

Sonata frowned. Patti was such a stubborn one. Sometimes the Siren found herself musing on how long a mortal like her would have held out at the beck and call of her musical magic. Five seconds instead of the typical two, perhaps? No, Patti had a strong will. Maybe it might have even taken eight.

At first, back when she had a little more energy and far less problems to worry about, Sonata had found this quality endearing. Now, it was just plain annoying, and the longer their war of wills rolled on, the more difficult she found it to remain in her usual, cheery disposition.

"Gee, Patti, that isn't a very nice way to talk to people. Especially if they're being polite to you," she muttered, half of her smile completely falling away. "Why would you say something like that to me?"

"Oh, idunno. Maybe because you're a lying, sneaky, deceitful, little psycho, perhaps?" the waitress spat, edging away from her.

Ouch. Patti sure wasn't one to sugarcoat things, was she? No matter. This wasn't the first time Sonata had been called out of her name by an unsettled, unwitting "friend". She could play that game, too.

"Pssh. Oh, Patti. You're so funny! Lies? Deceit? When have I ever done any of that stuff?" Sonata inquired, tapping at her bottom lip. "I'm not even good at lying. What I'm doing has always been super clear. Maybe not to the folks who don't care, but to you and me, yea! Oh, and I've been called psycho before, by the way. I'm used to that by now."

She giggled to herself, flipping the end of her ponytail over her shoulder.

"But, sneaky, Patti? You're one to talk. If anyone's been sneaking around it's you."

Patti's eyes darted from side to side as the subsequent silence between them both became rather uncomfortable.

"What've you been saying to people about me, Patti?" Sonata pressed, her smile as sweet and habitually disarming as ever. "All nice things, I hope."

"Yea? And what if they're not?" the girl retorted, her voice sinking to a quiet, threatening murmur.

"What if they're not?" Sonata mused to herself, scratching her chin. Her hips swayed to and fro as she pondered this, quite set on actually answering the brunette's question.

"Well, idunno!" she finally blurted with a shrug. "At least not yet. But I'm pretty sure I'll come up with something. I always do! Like last week when I told Tank about how you were stealing cash outta his register."

The Siren watched with unexpected glee as Patti visibly wilted before her. Her jaw dropped as did her shoulders, and very nearly her buckled knees. Too busy inhaling the delicious scent of green that had exploded from the girl, Sonata barely even noticed that the whites of her stunned, sapphire eyes had begun to go red.

"You?" the waitress breathed, her voice wavering. "You're the one who... You've gotta be kidding me!"

Her shock was quickly replaced with rage.

"You're insane, you know that? Do you have any idea what you fucking did?" she screamed as tears began to streak down her cheeks. "I needed that job!"

Apparently, while Sonata was too busy imagining the meal she could have partaken in had she still had her powers, Patti's companions had heard their friend's yelling from where they had been standing in the lot. Less than two seconds passed before both Pumpkin and Candy came barging in through the back door, and without warning, shoved Sonata out of their way.

"Patti! What the hell?" Candy exclaimed, her sky blue cheeks gone white from fright.

"I hate you!" Patti screamed, ignoring her friend, and lunging forward toward Sonata. She was halted by Pumpkin blocking her path. Nearly spinning forward onto her face, the distraught brunette saved herself the injury by collapsing to her knees.

"What did you do to her, you psycho?" Candy hissed, jabbing a threatening finger in Sonata's direction. The Siren merely shrugged, smirking thoughtfully.

"Psycho..." she murmured to herself, a revelation having struck her. "Wait, is that what you've been telling everyone about me? It is, isn't it?"

"Don't talk to her," Pumpkin cut in as she and Candy helped their friend to her feet.

"Why are you doing this?" Patti whimpered, again ignoring her companions. "What do you want from me?"

Sonata blinked with confusion as this question came as a genuine surprise to her. Hadn't it been made absolutely clear by now what it was that she wanted? Sure, for the first couple of weeks, the Siren had assumed that Patti was simply being guided along by her puppet strings, but after the fourth or so, she figured that the girl was just trying to see who could be more stubborn. Had this not turned into a mutually agreed upon game of fortitude? Patti was a girl ruled a great deal by her own insecurities, but she was far from stupid. Sonata, of all beings, would be able to tell if someone was hiding their intelligence behind a facade of dimwittedness.

"You mean you really don't—" the Siren stammered before regaining her sense of calm. "You really wanna know?"

"Yes!" the brunette shrieked, her voice raked raw.

Witnessing this sorry display amidst a heavy quiet, it occurred to Sonata that perhaps this was the glorious moment she had been waiting for, the moment Patti finally gave in to her. A small smile curled across her lips. She figured that she was behaving quite well considering all of the screaming for joy that was taking place on her inside.

"Why don't you and I take our break together, then, and I'll tell you all about it? Whaddya say, Patti?" the Siren posed gently, delighting in the sound of the defeated girl's sighing. "I think there's been an eensy weensy, teeny weeny misunderstanding between us."

Patti sniffed back her tears, and glanced toward the floor. For a second, the gears in her head seemed to be spinning. After a long time, she again met Sonata's gaze. Her lips fumbled for words. Candy and Pumpkin seemed to be awaiting her reply with bated breath.

"O... oka—"

"No!" Pumpkin interjected, much to Sonata's dismay. "Why the hell would she do that?"

Turning back toward her distressed companion, she steadied the girl, and promptly began tugging her toward the door.

The grimace that suddenly flashed across the Siren's face was terrifying. Bounding to her feet, Sonata, slammed both of her fists against her thighs, leaving purple spots where they had struck.

"Why don't you just shut up, Pumpkin?" she cried. "I wasn't even talking to you!"

Passing a commanding glare Patti's way, the Siren rested her hands upon her hips, and tapped her foot impatiently. Almost as if the response had been foreseen ages ago, she nodded with satisfaction when the blue eyed brunette edged away from her two friends.

"No, I think maybe I should stay," Patti sniffled, looking half lost in a daze. Her hand slipped, inch by inch, out of Pumpkin's grasp as she moved toward Sonata.

At the very last minute, just when both parties had thought the conclusion of this confrontation decided, Pumpkin lunged out to grasp at Patti's fingertips, and drew her close one more time. Sonata shook her head at this rather desperate act. Her suspicions were again piqued, however, when she witnessed the gum-gnawing, orange-skinned waitress pull her friend in, and begin murmuring in her ear.

"Patti, remember that thing that you had to go to," she whispered, smiling when a sudden look of realization flashed across the brunette's face. At once, Patti's energy—and her animosity—seemed somewhat restored. Turning to face Sonata, she passed her a disgusted glare.

"What thing do you have to get to?" Sonata inquired, trying to hide her anger at Patti's two meddling companions. She knew that things had gone awry when the girl did not reply, but instead sniffed disdainfully.

"Pumpkin, Candy, just make sure she doesn't follow me, okay?" the brunette murmured, immediately turning to walk out of the back door.

"Patti?" Sonata called, bounding forward only to be shoved back onto the bench by Candy's surprisingly strong arms. "Patti, wait!"

"You deaf or something?" the sky blue waitress clucked. "You're not getting through, alright? So, might as well just haul your sorry ass back out onto that floor, and do what it is you're supposed to be doing: minding your own damn business."

As if to add insult to injury, Pumpkin passed a smug grin her way as she chawed voraciously upon the piece of ever-present gum in her mouth. Blowing a bubble as big as a fist, she leaned forward, and allowed it to pop loudly near Sonata's face.

The particular state of irritation these two constantly seemed to put her in had long since gotten old. Nevertheless, that short glimpse into the face of victory had given Sonata just the boost she needed to get through the next couple minutes of work until her break. Besides, it would be only a matter of time before all three of them came to see things "her" way, with the right amount of applied pressure, of course.

Sneering at the duo until they finally took their leave, Sonata jutted her tongue out viciously in their direction, spun about on her heels, and headed back toward the floor. By this time, both J.R. and Peachy had gotten back to work, far too busy handling the first oncoming wave of the after work crowd to notice her. Good. That meant she wouldn't have to be bothered with their pointless yapping about "feelings" or "psychiatric therapists".

Humming a tune to herself, finally, for the first time that evening, Sonata rediscovered the bounce in her step. The hum had turned into a whistle as she busied herself with taking a few orders and dropping off a few plates here and there when those same orders came up. The rush of patrons became a blur, as it always did. Still, in the twilight of this day, she didn't seem to mind it. She had just tasted of something old, familiar, and very much missed, and that was all that seemed to matter. So a few people, coworkers included, judged her as being a little bit of a mental case. So what? It was either ditzy or this, and as far as she knew, there were way less people inclined to mess with the mad in comparison to an idiot. She had even proved this to herself by returning to that ridiculing table of girls she had been waiting on, hunkering down low so that only they could hear her, smiling sweetly, and telling them in a very calm and serious manner that she found the flavor of human misery quite yummy, and would be remembering each of their faces with fervor.

One of the girls didn't even bother to start in on her burger and shake before the group promptly decided that they should leave and quick. It didn't matter, anyway. More food for her, and as far as she was concerned, that was always a great motto to live by. Besides, it was getting pretty close to her break time, and Pumpkin had already returned to take up her position on the floor.

Snatching up the untouched burger and chocolate shake, Sonata then headed off toward an empty table on the far side of the floor. Customers usually hesitated to sit in that area due to the section's busted light fixture which, for some odd reason, Sammy had never gotten around to addressing. On her way over, she began to take more detailed notice of the diners who had come in that evening, using them as a means to practice her mannerism and feature reading skills.

Mr. blue hair, pink skin, and super hottie! Just a stream of green out of that pretty noggin. Reeks of apprehension, though. Nose in the air. Hmph. Yep. He's a snooty one. Adagio would love him. Then there's Ms. green eyes. Gosh, this lady here's in trouble. Plumes of smog. Smells of... man, this one's tough. Lies and regret, and waaay too much lust. But her eyes aren't on her date at all. Weird. What could it possibly... Ooh! Affair! She's having an affair! Sonata, you are so brilliant!

Biting her lip to keep her giggles under control, Sonata whisked herself past the tensed couple, and on toward the last patron, a girl seated at a booth on the edge of the dim section beyond. Her head was held in her hands, and she sat so still that for a second, it seemed as if she had fallen asleep that way.

Ms. red and yellow hair. Thin, green stream of negative energy. Smells of frustration—no... no, wait—what's that word again? Oh, yea, confliction! She must have done something horrible to someone she cares about. No, no, wait! It would be smoggy if she already did it. She's planning to do it. Oooh, how mysterious. How juicy.

As she passed the girl, just out of curiosity, Sonata tilted her head to catch a glimpse of her face.

How—What the what?

"Sunset?" she yelped, nearly dropping her burger.

At the sound of her scream, Sunset Shimmer's head popped up, and her wide eyes took in the unexpected sight before her.

"You!" Sunset retorted, straightening herself into an upright position.

The Siren immediately passed her the most disgusted of frowns.

"Eew, gross!" she grumbled, swishing the shake cup around in her hand, almost as if she was considering tossing its contents in the mortal's direction.

Looking as if she had expected this type of response from her, Sonata watched on as the mortal girl rolled her eyes, and slumped against the back of her seat.

"So you work nights here, huh? Super. I knew this place only mattered before nine AM and after midnight," Sunset mumbled, turning her head away. "Shoulda just gone to Sugarcube instead."

"Hey! Don't you say that about Sammy's!" Sonata hissed, stomping her foot. This response wasn't brought on by a need to defend her place of employment so much as it was because she just wanted a reason to yell at the horrible, little creature who had stolen her powers, and with it her very life.

Sunset leaned forward upon the table, working her jaw as she thought to herself. After a moment, she shook her head.

"You're right. It's not the owner's fault that you and your sisters are prolific liars. That smile of yours probably won him over just like that, huh?" she added with a snap of her fingers.

Alright. That was the second time today someone had called her a liar, and she would not let it go unaddressed. Leaning forward, Sonata slammed her burger and rapidly melting shake onto the table, ignoring the splatter of chocolate sludge that landed all over her right hand.

"You stupid, little thingies are so...." Her cheeks puffed out to twice their usual size. "We hardly ever lie! Keeping secrets isn't lying, Sunset. The only reason we would lie is cause you thingies are always trying to starve us, or burn us, or poison us, or chop our heads off when you find out what we are. Besides, you critters lie all the time, and for way less important stuff, so there!"

Her tongue lolled out of her mouth again. "If you hate this place so bad, then why don't you just leave, and buy your burgers somewhere else?"

"Because I'm afraid that if I leave, I'll run into the grumpy one next, and my day has already been long enough with just the two of you popping up," Sunset snorted, grabbing a handful of napkins, and spitefully tossing it over the Siren's hand, still planted there, covered in cold, sticky slush.

Sonata didn't seem to notice this as the girl's statement had set her mind to buzzing. What did Sunset mean by referencing two Sirens? Had she seen one of her sisters that day?

"What's your shtick gonna be, huh?" the mortal smirked, leaning onto one arm. "Begging me to help you instead of just trying to guilt trip me?"

"You saw one of my sisters?" Sonata inquired, ignoring the girl's rudeness.

"Oh, don't act like you didn't know," Sunset laughed. "Adagio was—"

"Adagio!" the Siren gasped, eyes going wide, her focus fading off to somewhere in the distance.

The long silence that ensued was an uncomfortable one. Sonata remained frozen, looking very much like an animatronic whose batteries had died whilst chocolate goo and bits of soiled paper continued to seep in a puddle around her hand. Sunset's eyes darted about as she waited impatiently for the Siren to finish whatever drawn out cerebration she was currently attempting to process through that inconceivable noggin of hers.

"Uh huh... Uh huh," Sonata mumbled to herself, as one thought connected to another.

"Uhh, your sister—" Sunset attempted to clarify, only to be silenced by the spacey immortal's raised finger.

"Nuh uh. Don't tell me. Almost got it," the Siren chided, shaking her head.

After about one minute more, it all finally dawned upon her. She had figured out what her sister had done and why. Anyone who might have happened to be watching her at that particular moment,would almost certainly be able to see the light bulb go on in her head, as well as hear the 'ding' of some distant bell—which may or may not have been the sound of the oven timer wafting out from the restaurant's kitchen.

"Ohhhhh!" the Siren gasped, her eyes going wide as they trained themselves back upon Sunset.

"Glad to see that you've returned safely from your trip," the girl mocked her.

"What?" Sonata asked, her face contorting in confusion.

"Because you were—" the mortal began before recognizing this as a futile mission. "Actually, nevermind."

The words had barely left her lips before the waitress smiled brightly, and rushed off. A few moments later, she returned with Sunset's order: a pizza burger and fries, one huge drink, and an ice cream topped brownie to boot. She slid the enormous spread before the girl, plopped down in the seat opposite her, and then proceeded to shove a fresh spoon right in front of her nose. Apprehensively, Sunset took it.

"Um, I didn't order all of this," she murmured, her eyes never wavering from the Siren's eerie smile.

"It's on the house," Sonata giggled, urging her along with a wave of her hand.

Taking a moment to gulp down the nervous lump caught in her throat, Sunset eyed the almost too elaborately built ice cream brownie sitting before her, and shoved her spoon into it.

"Al... alright," she stammered, raising the utensil to her lips, and cautiously popping it into her mouth. Her eyes clenched shut as she waited for the arsenic laced chocolate sauce to kick in. When it did not, she hummed with delight instead, and enthusiastically took another bite, and then another.

"Mmm. Vis is prrr good!" she blubbered through a mouthful of whipped cream and cocoa. "Didjoo make it?"

Sonata's smile only grew wider, a sight which made Sunset's chewing slow down significantly.

"You know, Sunset, Adagio isn't as bad as you probably think she is. None of us are," the blue girl began softly, moving to rest her cheek in her right palm before noting that it was still covered in a sticky, brown and white mess, and shifting to the clean hand instead. Sunset shot her a look that seemed to scream: Here we go, but somehow, the Siren managed to ignore it.

"You probably don't believe me, but it's true."

Sonata took this opportunity to pull a few fresh napkins from the holder, and finally wipe her hand clean of the chocolate grime. Then, picking up her own burger, she took a huge, greedy bite.

"She likes playing piano, especially for an audience, and she's really good at helping me get tangles out of my hair, and once, about a decade ago when we were living as teenagers full time, she let me throw a sleepover party for my birthday. She even bought a cake! It was an ice cream cake, too. My favourite!"

Sunset certainly could not imagine a nest of immortal, energy-sucking, sea monsters turned human doing something as mundane as combing each other's hair or celebrating birthdays. She snorted a laugh of disbelief, gulped down a mouthful of ice cream, and quickly tucked into her own burger.

"Y... you hrv a birfday?" she sputtered through her stuffed maw.

"Uh huh," Sonata nodded, taking a sip from her now melted shake, and resultantly shooting the cup a disgusted sneer before pushing it off to the side. "They're not our real birthdays or anything. We don't remember those. But, we kinda just picked a time of year and date that felt right using astrono... astrol..."

"Astrology," Sunset finished for her before taking a sip from her soda.

"Yea, that! Astrology books and stuff. Just for fun, y'know? Adagio made herself a Leo. I couldn't decide whether to be a Cancer or a Gemini or an Aquarius, so Adagio just called me "spaced out" and told me I was an Aquarius. Seems to be holding up pretty good so far. Aria thought it was stupid and pointless, so Adagio and I just picked a birthday for her. We made her an Aries on a Taurus cusp. She always yells a lot on her birthday, too, especially if we get her really good presents. That's how we know that she likes it."

Sunset couldn't help but chuckle at the mental image. It did seem to make a ton of sense. "Yea, yelling. That one, Aria, seems like she's into that."

Sonata nodded, missing the lighthearted nature of the comment.

"Yea. Actually, she used to yell a bunch about you back when we first started going to CHS," the Siren added, tapping at her lip. "I think she had a crush on you or something. One time she said that your jacket looked like you made it out of used tin foil and heavy duty trash bags."

Sunset recoiled. Her hands instinctively moved to wrap themselves about her shoulders. Sonata, seeing this, frantically shook her hands.

"Oh, no, you've got it all wrong! That means she really liked it! Aria's just like that. You've gotta just flip whatever she says around sometimes... a lot of times."

These words seemed to settle Sunset's nerves. She thought to herself whilst popping open the nearby ketchup bottle, and squeezing some onto her fries. Her eyes nervously darted between the plate and Sonata as she attempted to think of something to add to the conversation.

"So... a crush on me, huh?" she squawked rather awkwardly. "Is, uh... is that a thing with you three or something?"

"Is what a thing?" Sonata shrugged innocently, taking a gamble, and stealing one of Sunset's fries.

"Oh, you know," Sunset replied, pushing the basket of wedges forward to the Siren's delight. "You're immortal, spirit entities or something, right?"

"Ionno," Sonata shrugged, jamming a handful of fries into her mouth.

Sunset hesitated.

"How do you not know what... Anyway..." she sighed, shaking her head, "I figure something like ideas on who to love would be this sort of ethereal, fluid thing to beings like you."

"Ohhh," Sonata coughed, involuntarily giggling whilst attempting to swallow at the same time. Biting her lip, she very clearly began to blush purple. "That's not really true. First of all, “love” is kind of a strong word for us.”

Lifting her burger, she hesitated just before taking another bite. “And secondly, only Aria is kinda like that… but only kinda. She's always been that way, though, now that I think about it. Even before we becam—"

The Siren gasped suddenly, clapping her greasy palms over her mouth. She looked as if she had almost said something forbidden for anyone to hear. Of course, this only worked to pique Sunset's interest even more. Thankfully, being polite, she did not press the subject of this strange slip up any further.

"I, uhh... I don't think it's ever clicked with Aria to care what anyone else thinks about it," Sonata continued with a gulp, attempting to mask her folly. "Adagio is typically into guys, but between you and me, I think it's only because they usually make easier fans for her, and not as good of competition. Otherwise, I don't think she'd be into anyone."

This drew another laugh from Sunset which simmered into a curious silence as she noted that Sonata had not mentioned herself.

"Well... what about you?"

The Siren's eyes went wide. Caught chewing another huge gobful of burger, she sputtered a couple times, struggling for air. Beating a fist against her chest, she grabbed Sunset's drink, and took a few huge gulps.

"Oh my gosh. Almost died," she gasped after successfully flushing her esophagus clear. Returning to her upright position, she shrugged and gave Sunset a somewhat pained and disinterested look.

"I mean, I like being loved, and sometimes I even think that I can still feel it for thingies like you who aren’t my sisters. I suppose that’s something, right?” She grimaced. “Trying to figure out the nature of love and stuff is so much hard work! I think it's just fun to have fun. You mortals always ruin things thinking about it so much, and trying to tie each other down with your weird jewelry, and rules, and papers that all eventually change every fifty years or so, anyway. It's so silly. Just go with the flow, and enjoy the heart flutters, and flowers, and chocolate, and kisses if somebody wants to give them to you; that's what I say. I mean, it's chocolate for crying out loud! What's there to even think about?"

The Siren took another perturbed bite out of her burger whilst simultaneously grabbing a fistful of fries out of the basket. Clearly, she had not learned her lesson from nearly choking to death a few moments prior. As she munched them all down, she didn't seem to register the warm smile that Sunset was giving her.

"Huh. That actually makes a lot of sense, Sonata," the fiery-haired girl hummed, picking a few fries for herself from the tray, and popping them into her mouth.

"Well, duh. It's not like I'm stupid or something," the Siren replied, grabbing a fresh handful of napkins to wipe away a stray dot of ketchup that had somehow managed to find its way onto her eyelid. "My sisters are smarter though. They both like to read... like... a lot. Adagio is reteaching herself chaos theory for like, the fifth time, whatever that is. She says it's really interesting, but I don't get it. Aria's library of poetry and novels and nonfiction is like, three whole walls long, and that's not even counting the stuff she keeps in the attic. She's got like, everything in there, I swear. Even some originals. Like, really old originals. She lets me borrow the Shakesmare stuff if I promise not to get grape juice on them."

"You read Shakesmare?" Sunset inquired, trying her best not to sound too sarcastic about it. "That's rather dense, isn't it? What with the language and prose and everything."

"Verily, nay, ardently, I agreeth not. O mortaling fair, trailing thy strands plucked from lion's mane in alchemist's dream, weav'd bright the morning star into thy noble crown," the Siren belted before passing a completely dumbstruck Sunset the widest of grins, and then shoving another fistful of fries into her face. This time the ketchup finally found its way smack dab into the center of her forehead.

"Wow," Sunset exhaled, her teal eyes as wide as dinner plates.

"I knrw right?" Sonata mumbled, her cheeks packed to bursting. "Crn you blieve people, in England I mean, used to tlk like that? N' they all wore thur hair like female movie strs frm the nineteen sixties. Weirdos."

A healthy silence ensued as Sunset attempted to reform some semblance of mental cognition from the blow her brain had just received. Eventually, she mustered up enough coherence to speak.

"You girls must've... must've witnessed so much," she huffed, suddenly finding herself breathless. "I couldn't possibly imagine someone getting to see all of that, the slow carving of the world into what it is today."

Sonata nodded, swallowed sharply, and let off a tiny burp.

"Oop! S'cuse me," she squeaked, smiling sweetly. Forgetting this gastrointestinal objection, she dug right back into the basket of fries. "Go ahead. Ask me."

Sunset blinked.

"What do you mean? Ask what?"

This garnered an eyeroll from the Siren.

"Oh, come on. Everyone has questions when they meet an immortal. It sucks that we had to get rid of most of those folks after they asked, but hey, at least that can't happen to you, right?" She beamed as if this was a perfectly normal thing to say to someone.

"Uhh, right," Sunset coughed, edging away from the waitress ever so slightly. Still, she was a natural-born scholar, and the prospect of getting to know whatever she wanted of the past won her over despite the immortal's odd disposition.

"Umm, let's see. Crime and punishment, I guess. I've read some really brutal things about the Middle Ages."

"Oh, believe me, all of that stuff is true," Sonata snorted, her head bobbing up and down. "And those fancy book drawings don't do any of it justice. But, if something happens enough times, people just get used to seeing it, you know? Everyone just adjusted to all that violence like if it was nothing. We used to eat like kings up until the whole "cruel and unusual punishment" stuff came about four hundred years ago. England wasn't as much fun after that so we picked up and moved to Spain. Those Spaniards, I tell ya. They really knew how to cook up some good negative energy."

The Siren's chewing slowed down a bit.

"Hey! Have you ever seen the legs and arms on a guy after they take him off of the rack?" she asked, picking up a few particularly limp and ketchupy fries between her fingers. "They're all like—"

"Ooookay, thanks, but no thanks," Sunset interjected, waving the entire topic off. "I still happen to be eating, here."

"Oh, right," the Siren giggled. "Sorry about that."

"That's okay," Sunset sighed, appearing as if she might never look at ketchup covered fries the same way again. "What about France? Ever been there? That's a nice place, right?"

"Oh, Paris was amazing," Sonata groaned, a huge grin spreading across her face. "Best time of our lives... human lives, I mean. Beautiful clothing, all that awesome art and food, the salons, the dances, our musical performances. Plus, Adagio and Aria were always pretty busy with all their weird, "romantic relationships" and whatnot, so there was less yelling at me which was great. It always smelled really bad, though, I have to admit. And it kinda sucked when everybody we knew started getting their heads chopped off... kinda."

Casually reaching out toward the ketchup bottle, Sonata popped it open once again, and proceeded to squirt more onto the plate of fries. Passing the tray a nauseous look, Sunset quickly lunged out with an arm, and grabbed the container.

"Please. Enough with the ketchup while you're talking about executions, okay?" she pleaded, her face going an odd pallor of green.

Sonata barely heard the girl as she continued to eat whilst pondering to herself.

"Come to think of it, I think Aria keeps her original dress and undergarment pattern book from 1765 laying around somewhere. I bet if we asked real nice, she'd—"

Suddenly she gasped, a thought having struck her.

"You should come and see it! Our library, I mean! I bet Aria would yell at you... a lot," Sonata snickered, passing Sunset a cheeky wink.

"Uh, no thanks. I think I'll pass," Sunset stammered, letting off a sigh of relief when the Siren allowed the matter to drop.

"Whatever. Your loss," she chirped taking another gulp from Sunset's soda. With her burger gone and most of the mortal girl's fries demolished, she now set her hungry sights upon the rapidly melting ice cream brownie. "You gonna finish that?"

Sunset rolled her eyes, and pushed the platter forward. "Here. Knock yourself out."

The Siren eagerly obliged.

Whilst the insatiable immortal stuffed her gob, Sunset watched on curiously. After a moment, the girl's forehead creased with frustration.

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Shoot," Sonata blurted in between mouthfuls of ice cream.

"Does... does doing that do anything?" the mortal inquired, pointing to the half devoured brownie.

Sonata gave her a perplexed grimace.

"Doing what?" she asked.

"You know... eating," Sunset hesitated, swiping a palm down the back of her head. "Because, well, your sister mentioned something about you starving or something... because your gems were broken."

All at once, the pep and cheer that had emanated from the sprightly Siren seemed to fall away until she was left sitting there looking deflated and helpless, a stagnant lump of dessert sagging in her cheek. Without answering the question, she chewed once, and swallowed sharply. Large, crocodile tears began trailing down her cheeks.

"Hey. Hey, hey," Sunset tried to comfort her. "Please don't cry. Look, I'm sorry I asked. I promise I won't do it ag—"

"I'm scared," Sonata croaked, eating another spoonful of ice cream, and gazing anywhere but at Sunset's face. "I don't wanna die. Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if I expected it, y'know? Like creatures like you do. But, I didn't. It's somethin' that a Siren doesn't even think about. I... I don't even know what it means to..."

Another spoonful. "I'm just really scared."

Sunset grimaced, feeling a stronger sense of confliction beginning to tug at her heart. She moved to reach out, hesitated, thought, and then moved again, stretching forward to place a hand upon Sonata's.

The Siren watched the mortal's eyes go wide, almost as if she had not expected her flesh to feel warm like a normal person's. Neither knowing what to say, Sonata just continued to eat, and Sunset awkwardly pulled away from her, allowing her hands to settle in her lap.

"How... how long?" she asked, her gaze trained down upon her twiddling thumbs.

Sonata simply shrugged, looking quite fed up with the food, the restaurant, and the current conversation.

"Adagio said it's impossible to know. Could be in three hundred years; could be tomorrow, I guess. Idunno."

"And there's absolutely nothing you all can do to stop it?" Sunset prodded. The Siren shook her head.

"Not unless we can get back to Equestria, to our source-beach-thingy, and heal ourselves and our jewels. We need to feed again."

Sunset glowered. Her eyes suddenly darkened.

"Feed..." she murmured. "You mean on—"

"Negative energy. We can't live without it," Sonata finished. "At least not for too long."

Gazing upon Sunset, Sonata witnessed a stream of green slowly beginning to seep out of her. At once, she realized her own mistake, and huffed in defeat before the mortal could utter another word.

"So, you three don't see anything wrong with destroying all of those lives? Don't you feel anything about it at all? Are we really all just food to you?" Sunset pressed as if she already knew the answer.

Her tone worked to annoy Sonata who was already feeling quite on edge. The Siren's entire aura darkened, and she passed a disdainful glare in the girl's direction.

"Hey! You don't know what we think or how we feel about stuff. You're just a mortal! You don't know anything about anything; so, just shut up, okay?"

The vitriol in her voice hitched itself onto the prideful part of Sunset's ego, and remained there. At once, the girl turned up her nose, and huffed at the pitiful-looking Siren. Collecting her things together, she quickly stood, reached into her pocket, and pulled out a wad of crumpled bills.

"You know, for a second there, I thought that maybe you'd be different," Sunset sniffed, "but you're just like your sisters, aren't you?"

She tossed the bills down in front of the sulking, blue girl who grimaced at the sight.

"I don't want it. I told you it's on the house," Sonata grumbled, looking away.

"Well, I'd prefer not to be indebted to something that sees me as a snack, thank you very much," Sunset quipped, turning about to head toward the door. "Keep the change," she called before Sonata heard the jingling of the entrance bell resound throughout the diner.

When she had left, the Siren angrily snatched up the bills, and shoved them into her pocket. Collecting together the table's used plates and cups, she stormed off toward the kitchen. Lost in her own mind, she never even noticed Peachy walking in the opposite direction, her arms laden with a mountain of plates. At once, they both bumped into each other, sending all manners of food and rubbish flying into the air, and then clattering to the floor.

Both waitresses stood there gawking for a moment, the eyes of the entire restaurant planted squarely upon them. At first, when Peachy glanced up, Sonata was quite sure that she would scream, curse, and order her to clean it up all by herself. Feeling the culmination of her entire bad day rushing up into that tear triggering part of her chest, the Siren's eyes again began to leak, this time with vexation. Her running mascara didn't help stave off the impression of complete exhaustion.

"Just yell and get it over with," she grumbled, crouching down in order to start picking up the plates. She dared not meet Peach's eyes again.

Seeing her friend so distraught, Peach let off a long sigh, and hitched her hand onto her hip. Scratching at the back of her head, she then crouched down in front of Sonata, pulled the plates from out of her grip, and set them aside. Grasping the Siren's hands, she tugged her upright, and gave her a weary smile.

"Hey, Sonny. Come with me for a second," she urged her with a lighthearted giggle. "Your makeup's running."

Candy Ice, who had been circling the scene, guffawing to herself and grinning like a hungry buzzard, grimaced when she saw the two girls turn to head toward the back.

"Hey, who do you two think is gonna clean that up?" she spat, pointing to the food splattered floor.

Thinking to herself for a moment, Peachy turned to face the waitress and smiled.

"The rest of my tips for the night if you do us a solid, and clean that up. Whaddya say, Candy?" she offered, cocking a brow.

Candy inhaled sharply and sneered, scanning the angel-eyed girl over.

"How much do you usually make on nights like this?" she inquired.

"From what's left of my time? You'll likely get a solid fifty bucks out of it," Peachy replied, holding her confident stance.

Sonata huffed, and jutted her lip out in Candy's direction. If she were able wield her Siren song, Candy's services would have been complimentary. Then again, if she still had her powers none of these distressing incidents would have ever occurred in the first place.

Approaching them quickly, Candy snatched the plates up from the counter, handling them like the heaviest soiled diapers in the world.

"Deal. But it better be fifty, whether it comes outta your tip or elsewhere, got it?"

"Scout's honor," Peachy swore, crossing her chest with her index finger, and raising her opposite hand. Turning about, she squeezed Sonata's arm, and led her through the red, kitchen door.

"Come on Sonny. I think I've got some of the waterproof stuff in my locker."

Have My Eyes

O if thou werest a covetous creature,
That thou mightst realize that which is thine.
The day itself lieth prostrate at thy feet,
Heaven's boons bestowed upon thee plentiful.
Ripe and radiant thy lips, fruits dripping ambrosia.
Beyond the touch of withering flesh,
Ears to hide saccharine secrets,
Yea, as many as will fit.
Yet not one eye for me?
How readily I wouldst relinquish unto thee all three,
If thy senses and thy heart wouldst allow.
An eye for the blind,
May thou seest my whole heart.
I, into thy arms, that thou mightst hoist me,
Yea, that I mightst taste divine fruit.
Aye, many times over lest all three be drawn away,
Lest my apple falleth from thy eye, and we made to begin again.
I do dread it most of all.

—-
This is all my fault. This is all my fault. This is all my fault...

Aria had a plan.

Purple eyes darted upward, and out of the glass-paned double doors toward the other end of the curved block, the place where, bathed in bright tungsten, the entrance to Cookie's instrument and instrument repair shop glowed. They were still open, and Cookie had not yet returned. Wheeler must have been keeping watch inside. For the moment, things seemed alright, and yet still, the Siren couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of dread.

But I can fix this myself. I can. No one else needs to be a part of this.

Adagio's ominous words from earlier on that day repeated themselves over and over in her mind.

'So, we have to be careful with what we say out loud from now on, and we have to be careful with what and whom we choose to be around.'

Ever since that moment—and admittedly after the succeeding hour or so of misdirected, probably mismanaged rage—things seemed to become quite clear to the solemnest of Sirens. A series of solutions, self assurances rather, laid themselves out as plain as day to her, the first of them being, of course, to find a way to keep an eye on Cookie. That's what Adagio had meant, wasn't it? That everyone they interacted with could potentially fall victim to this vengeful time mage? Therefore, precautionary measures would have to be taken until she could follow through with a way to stop Starshot, or at least make him lose interest in his retaliatory endeavours.

Luckily, the first part of her plan had already been somewhat taken care of. She'd been watching over Cookie in the evening time from the safety of Bubbles ever since that night on the mountain. Located on the same curved street, Cookie's shop was in clear view if one were to strategically seat themselves in the corner closest to the bar's door.

However, after the revelations of that day, simply watching for the shopkeep until she left work every evening no longer seemed enough. What if something were to happen in the morning before she came into the shop? What about on the way or after she went home? Aria had needed a new idea, and ultimately, she had come up with one, an idea that seemed somewhat suitable for the task of getting Starshot off of their backs.

The Siren pondered to herself as her eyes darted back toward the page of her poetry book. Her lips curled up into just the whisper of a smile as she read that oh, so beloved passage. Something tugged fiercely at her heart as she finished it. The feeling came on so suddenly, that she hadn't the time to prepare herself for the tightness and heat that ran up through her chest, her throat, and into her face. A pressure built behind her eyes as old emotions overwhelmed her. She leaned forward so that her forehead rested upon the page. Her mind raced with incoherent images of her life, her sisters, and the current object of her most sincere affections.

...Sincere affections?

Seas... Please just give me a little more time. Just let things stay calm until I can...

Feeling something warm threatening to escape out of the corner of her eye, Aria quickly caught herself, shot up in her seat, and knocked her palm repeatedly against her forehead. This method usually did the trick when it came to warding off emotions that began to feel a bit too emotional. This time proved no different. Soon, all of those too soft and too warm things faded back into the distance where they belonged until they again felt like the flat, moving paintings that they ought to be.

Groping around the circular wooden table without taking so much as a peek from behind her book, Aria's fingers eventually made contact with the icy dampness of her glass. Hand wrapping around the container, she hoisted it, brought it and its malty, golden contents up to her lips, and tipped. Taking four big gulps, she let off a refreshed sigh, and clunked the frothy drink back onto the wood. Flipping a page, she forced a chuckle she was almost certain she didn't mean; however, at the moment it didn't quite matter to her whether it was a sincere action or one of utter denial.

"Oh, Shakesmare, you suave bastard, you."

The evening was still rather young, and Bubbles had not yet filled up with the expected tired and worn, weekday evening crowd on the hunt for some comfort from their mundane lives at the bottom of a seductive glass of liquor. For a moment, Aria's superficial act of calm twisted and molded her mind until, just for a second, she was actually able to enjoy her reading, even to forget her current mission and the worries that inspired it. However, when the bell at the door to the bar resounded throughout the room, it almost sent her tumbling. Instinctively, she pulled her legs off of the tabletop, and ducked low into her seat, thinking herself caught.

"Shit!"

Luckily, Cookie was not the one to enter, as she had feared. However, the figure who did was no less intriguing.

What's she doing here?

Aria's penetrating gaze followed the sweet cream colored girl as she made her way through those first few early evening rumpled suits, loosened ties, and faded makeup jobs. Upon reaching the bar, the figure scratched at her brown hair, and leaned forward onto the countertop. Waiting somewhat impatiently for the tender to find a free moment, she plopped herself down upon a nearby stool, and groaned loudly. Ever alert to the sound of displeasure taking place in the bar, the barkeep, a thirty-something, maroon-skinned man, perked up, his head spinning about in her direction.

"What can I get for you, sweetheart?" he asked whilst busying himself with drying some freshly rinsed tumblers.

"Uh, yea. Is Bubba here?" the girl inquired.

At once, both the bar keep and Aria gave her the same, suspicious look, granted the Siren was doing it behind the girl's back from where she sat in her dimly lit corner.

Bubba? What does she need to see him for?

"Bubba? What do you need to see him for?" the tender asked, reading her mind.

The brunette slicked a hand back over her tightly gathered hair.

"Look, just tell him it's really important, okay?" She sounded as if she'd have absolutely no qualms with begging if that is what it would take to have her way that evening.

The tender studied her for a moment before shrugging off his cares for the matter completely. Turning about, he headed off toward the back.

"Wait here," he instructed, briefly turning to point a finger in her direction. When he did, his eyes just so happened to land upon Aria where she sat hunched behind her book. "Aria, dammit!"

Shit, shit, shit...

"Take those damn shades off if you're gonna read in here, will you? It's driving me crazy! I've got this uncle..."

Shooting upright in her seat just as the brunette spun about to glare at her, the Siren put on a disinterested facade, licked a fingertip, and casually flipped a page in her book.

"You know, Buzz," she sighed, "typically I require at least a dinner and a movie before I allow anyone to start telling me what I should take off."

The Siren's eyes were trained upon the page, her words upon the bar keep, but her mind upon the brunette whose increasingly shocked and temperamental glare was beginning to burn holes into the side of her skull.

"Yea, yea," the tender grunted, before waving the matter off and disappearing around the corner for good.

When the two were left alone, the other girl's staring became even more unbearable. Still, Aria held her ground, eyes plastered upon her book, half finished beer in hand, a relaxed slump in her shoulders as she leaned back in her seat. The glass met her lips again. She didn't realize how much she actually needed the comforting flavor of cool, golden ale upon her tongue until she tasted it once more. The calm that the bittery delight brought her was marred only by the cream colored girl resting a hand upon her table, and blocking out what little reading light she had.

"You're in my light," the Siren muttered. Flipping another page. Her gaze remained unmoved from her reading material.

"I remember you, y'know," the brunette murmured, a hand upon her hip. "You're that little, blue nut's friend."

"'Friend' would be a gross exaggeration," Aria quipped, taking another sip from her glass.

"She send you here or something? Are you following me for her?" the girl asked, a tinge of worry now becoming apparent in her voice. The sudden rank scent of her nervous energy filled the air.

Aria decided not to oblige her with a response. This girl was clearly a jerk by trade, and there was only room for one cowboy in the browbeater rodeo. Besides, she had more pressing matters to attend to, and hopefully by ignoring the mortal, she'd eventually grow bored and wander away.

"Hey!" the girl screamed, reaching out to grab Aria's book from her hands, and slapping it closed upon the table. "I'm talking to you!"

For the first time that evening, Aria glanced upward to meet Patti Mint's sapphire glare. Removing her glasses, she eyed the plume of energy seeping out of the girl, and slowly leaned further back into her seat. Clasping her hands across her stomach, she shot the waitress a ridiculing grin.

"Paranoia suits you," the Siren observed. "At least better than whatever it was you had going on the last time we met."

Chewing upon her bottom lip, Patti recollected herself into the calmest visage she could muster, pulled the seat on the opposite side of Aria's table, and moved to sit. As quickly as she had done so, the Siren's legs shot out, her dirty boots planting themselves squarely upon the chair.

"That seat's taken," she lied, dragging the chair closer. "And let's make one thing absolutely clear: Like hell does Sonata give me orders."

The Siren wrapped her fingers around her half-finished beer, and tapped her nails against the glass in sequence.

"Besides, it looks like she's doing a pretty good job of getting to you all on her own."

Patti grimaced.

"Right. Th—then what are you doing here? It couldn't just be some coincidence that I end up running into the friend of the nut who's ruining my life, and right when I try to get away from her for two seconds during a shift that we share."

Aria's nose scrunched at these words. Studying Patti, she opened her mouth to speak, only to be startled into silence by a booming voice with all the enjoyable qualities of a heavy duty food grater coming from the bar's dim hallway.

"I keep tellin' y'all not to pull me outta mah office until nine! Nine. Nine! Nothin' but knuckleheads 'round here!"

Around the bend shuffled a large, round, and very bald purple man donning a salt and pepper beard and mustache grown long enough to just about hide his entire mouth from view. Scoping out the state of the half empty bar as he made his way in, he sighed loudly, and ran a hand over that shiny head of his.

"Give me streng—S'nobody here, Buzz!" he shouted back into the dim hallway. Upon turning around again, his grass green eyes immediately landed upon Aria, though interestingly enough, doing so required that he somehow look straight through Patti first. At once, his entire aura brightened, at least whatever parts of it weren't covered by his facial hair.

"Oh, hey, Aria, sweetie. Didn't see ya there. How you doin'? Nice glasses," the middle aged man beamed, almost as if he were talking to a dear niece. From somewhere down the hall, a muffled exclamation—clearly Buzz'—could be heard. The tone made it clear that he was objecting to something or other.

"I said nobody, Buzz!" the bald man replied, shutting up the muffled contestations once and for all.

Aria snickered, took the opportunity to snatch her book away from Patti, and pop it back open.

"Good, Bubs," she greeted him in a flat tone, flipping through the book's pages to find her place, "although Buzz didn't seem to like my shades very much, I've gotta say."

"Well, I s'pose that's why Buzz is currently cleanin' out Sarge's shit box with a lil', iddy, biddy kiddie shovel, as we speak," Bubba replied in an all too calm manner, before reaching into the fridge which sat behind him, pulling out a cold bottle of beer, and cracking it open.

"That boy don't know how to follow instructions worth a damn. Couldn't "follow instructions" his way outta a wet paper bag." He took a swig of his drink. "But hell, does he know how to throw down a mean Sidecar, I tell you. Didn't think any you kids even knew what that was about."

"Aw, bullshit," Aria chided him. "Sidecars are the best. Those and a good Bronx." Naturally, she withheld her opinion that the cocktails generally tasted far better back in the thirties, decades before Bubba was even born, and decades before people became so uptight about the regulations that went into the means of getting drunk off of their asses... Well, after that whole, stupid Prohibition thing, of course.

The man shot a finger out in her direction, looking half stunned, half overjoyed.

"Firstly, young lady, there will be none-a that foul language comin' outta you in my presence, hear me? Secondly... that right there is why I like you, Aria. You got an old soul. Refined tastes."

In all honesty, despite whatever sort of affectionate banter this might have looked like to any onlooker, Aria was simply enjoying whipping up her own brand of trouble. Taking a glance at Patti every so often out of the corner of her eye, the Siren could see the girl visibly becoming more and more nervous at the slow revelation that she was well-liked by the bar owner. She didn't know what, exactly, Sonata was doing to the waitress back at Sammy's, but by the scent of the smog hovering over Patti's head, the situation in which she currently found herself must have seemed quite familiar to her.

Hmph. Serves her right.

"Is this you trying to sweet talk me for that cash I won off of you at dominoes last week?" Aria chortled, nudging her chin in Patti's direction to finally call Bubba's attention to the girl's presence.

"Shh! You crazy? I've got a reputation to uphold 'round here," Bubba hissed much to the Siren's delight. "Why don't you go have a chat with that friend ah yours, Cookie. I bet she knows all about losin' cash at bones."

The man shook his head jovially.

"That gal. Pretty and useful as a royal flush on a last hand, let me tell you. Can't bluff worth a damn, though, poor thing."

His gaze remained on Aria just long enough to see her flinch at the mention of Cookie, pick up her beer, and take a long, dismissive swig. It would seem that their conversation had outlived its charm.

"C-Cookie, huh?" Patti stammered, forcing her way into the exchange. Both pairs of eyes landed squarely upon her. "I-I know, Cookie. Very cool gal."

Aria's swig of beer nearly came back up through her nose. Her brain was screaming.

You what, you little—?

Trying to muffle her sputters, she clasped her hands over mouth, and turned away to face the wall.

"Gives me cooking lessons from time to time. She's amazing," the waitress finished.

Oh, fuck that forever.

Before the Siren had the chance to pop up out of her seat with a bout of incoherent cursing, Bubs had turned very purposefully in Patti direction, passing her a clearly disingenuous, overly drawn smile.

"Yes, missy? And how may I hep you this fine evenin'?" he asked her in a rather patronizing tone. The fact that he too sounded slightly annoyed with the girl for interrupting his conversation worked to settle the Siren's nerves just enough to get her back into her seat.

Aria took a deep breath and passed Bubba an intrigued glare. It seemed interesting how the man so quickly switched gears whilst speaking with Patti. It was almost as if he could sense the waitress' haughtiness almost like a Siren could. Aria snorted to herself and shook her head. Not often, but every once in awhile, a mortal would surprise her with their level of perceptiveness.

"Uhh, yea, Bubs, is it?" Patti began nervously, her eyes still darting between Aria and the bar owner.

"A-that would be Bubba to you," he corrected her with a smirk hidden somewhere behind that beard of his.

Again, this drew a ridiculing snort from the Siren. This mortal was hopeless.

"Rrright. Bubba," she repeated, forcing a nervous smile. The grin melted into a melancholy stare, the most honest expression Aria had seen the girl wear the entire evening.

"Look, Bubba," she sighed, leaning forward onto the counter. "I'm just gonna be honest with you. I don't know you personally, and maybe you don't even like me, but I need a gig."

The girl rapped her knuckles nervously upon the bar wood.

"I've got some... uhh..." she passed a wary glance Aria's way before again facing him, "personal issues going on right now, and really need the money. I know how to serve, I know how to mix drinks, and besides, you can never have too many pretty girls working the bar, right? Brings in more customers."

After this rant, Bubba returned the waitress' withering grin with a look of complete unamusement. It took a while for him to reply.

"Missy, I don't wantcha to get the wrong impression of me. I ain't heartless or nothin', and I certainly ain't blind to your troubles. Believe you me, I been there more than a couple times, myself. But here's the thing..." Bubba leaned in. "I don't know you from Adam, and this here establishment is mah baby. I don't let just anybodeh work here."

Aria watched on curiously, not bothering to sip from the glass that was pressed up against her lips. Her eyes lingered on Patti who slumped down onto a stool in front of the bar, looking mostly defeated. Something began to tickle in that honed, perceptive part of the Siren's brain. An idea began to form, but not yet enough for her to clearly decipher what it was.

"But I'll tell you what," Bubba finished, a compassionate look in his eye. "If you can get a good reference, somebody to vouch for ya, and I don't discover nothin' less than savory 'til then..." He shrugged. "Well, I suppose we'll see. That sound good to ya?"

Aria's eyes brightened as the idea that had been forming around the corners of her mind finally solidified. She took the last swig of her beer, and silently moved to stand.

In the meantime, hope had returned to Patti's eyes, but just barely. Too busy racking her brain for ideas, she didn't even notice Bubba scratching his bald head, and turning away to face Buzz who had just reentered the bar. The tender began to scrub his hands off in the sink just as the older man was passing him by.

"Why don'tcha, ah... why don'tcha set this young lady up with a drink?" Bubba murmured to the bar keep, clapping a hand upon his shoulder before disappearing again down the hallway. Buzz eyed the anxious looking brunette suspiciously, having missed the conversation that had taken place prior. Still, orders were orders.

Removing a fresh glass from the bar, he picked a particularly strong ale, filled it to the brim, and slid the thing in front of Patti upon a fresh napkin. The girl started at the sound of glass upon wood. Her eyes darted toward the drink and then toward Buzz. Her head began to shake, slowly at first, then quite decisively.

"Oh..." she murmured, digging into her pockets in vain. "I-I'm sorry, but I don't have any—"

A fuchsia hand came down hard upon the countertop beside the waitress, some creased bills folded below its palm. Patti's head darted around to gaze at the sudden intruder.

"I've got this one, Buzz," Aria murmured to the bartender, her eyes never drifting from the mortal girl's face. "And pour me another while you're at it, will ya?"

Not caring enough about the strange energy now passing between the two, Buzz simply shrugged, grabbed the bills, poured Aria her extra drink, and quickly walked away to help another patron.

The Siren grinned brightly, ignoring the way Patti recoiled back into the barside at the sight of it.

"You and me... I think maybe we should have us a little chat," she beguiled, picking up both glasses.

"Why?" Patti inquired, cocking a suspicious eyebrow.

"Because it would be in your best interest if we did... is why," Aria sniffed, swirling her drink around. When the waitress still did not respond, the Siren sighed and rolled her eyes. Her patience wearing thin, she leaned in, and peered into Patti's two, blue orbs.

"Why don't you get your whiny bee-hind up off of that stool right now, and come have a seat with me?" Remembering herself, she forced out something that was supposed to be reminiscent of a sweet smile, but came out looking more like a hungry sneer. "It'll be worth it to you. I swear."

Patti hesitated for just a second longer, a lack of action that made the corner of Aria's mouth begin to twitch. Thankfully, before this could turn into a full blown eruption of despise, the waitress hopped down from the bar stool, and gazed up warily into the eyes of the rather menacing figure before her.

"Smart," Aria chirped.

The first few moments were filled with a suffocating silence between the two. Patti sat looking completely averse to the situation in which she now found herself. Hands clasped in her lap, head bowed, drink untouched, she stared warily at the Siren almost as if she were prepared to make a quick run for the door at any moment. Ignoring her nervous mannerisms, Aria sat in the seat opposite her, coolly sipping upon her drink. She took this opportunity to study the streams of energy now seeping off of the mortal whilst her legs, which were again kicked up and crossed upon the table, shook carelessly back and forth.

After a few minutes of this, Patti, expectantly, lost her patience. Pounding a fist upon the table, she leaned forward.

"Listen, if you think I'm stupid or something, and I don't know what this is about, then you've got another thing coming. Idunno who you two freaks think you are, but you're not gonna fucking control my life. You got it?"

Aria never even flinched. After finishing off her sip from the glass, she calmly placed it down, and clasped her hands over her stomach.

"That's a good ale you're not drinking," she rasped, scratching at the bandages upon her neck. "Cost me nine whole bucks. Perhaps you should try some."

"Look, just tell me what this is about, okay?" Patti pressed, near pleading.

Aria studied the girl for a moment before shrugging, and pulling her legs off of the table to sit upright.

"So, you know Cookie, huh?"

Patti snorted.

"Yea, I do. And?"

"How long?" Aria followed up, tapping her nails upon her glass.

"Idunno. A couple years," Patti replied.

The Siren's nails stopped their tapping.

This little... morsel had known Cookie longer than she had. Aria couldn't help but feel just a tinge of jealousy.

"I met her through Wheeler, that jerk," the waitress finished, absent-mindedly scooting her glass about the table with an extended finger.

Aria recalled Wheeler talking about Patti the day they ended up at the Nuclear Sunburns concert. That was also the last day she'd even been anywhere near Cookie.

"Yea, yea. You two dated for a while," she stated, nodding her head. Patti grimaced.

"H—how did you know that? I swear to God if you've been snooping, I'll—"

"I work at Cookie's shop," Aria reassured her with a raised hand. She thought for a moment. "Well, I used to. Wheeler told me about you, but I've never seen you come in or anything, and I worked late."

"Yea, I only ever go to Cookie's house," Patti replied. "Can't cook on a busted violin, can you?"

Aria's fist clenched. For the accursed life of her, she could not compute how this little brat had become so close to Cookie that the woman might have felt comfortable enough to invite her into her home... repeatedly.

And yet...

It now occurred to her that this small factoid could work to her advantage, as annoying as it might have been. The Siren's jaw worked about as she considered what she had learned, trying to make it settle with what she had previously assumed.

"So, I hear you like the Nuclear Sunburns," she mentioned, not really sure why she was doing so.

"Love 'em. Why?" Patti replied, leaning back in her seat, and crossing her arms.

This response made Aria narrow her eyes. She exhaled sharply, took a sip from her glass, and clunked it back down upon the wood.

"Nevermind. Listen, I've got a proposition for you, a favor to ask, if you will."

Again, Patti scoffed at her.

"I don't even know you. What the hell makes you think that I'd do you any favors?" she asked.

"I'm sorry," Aria clucked. "I was under the impression that you actually wanted this bar job."

And then it all seemed to click in Patti's mind. Sitting up in her seat, she finally reached for her glass, and brought it up to her lips. After a few gulps, she placed it down, and leaned forward.

"I'm listening," she purred, her sapphire eyes glistening.

This drew a smile out of the Siren.

"Good. I need you to watch Cookie for a few days. Every evening, you have to make sure that she gets home, and every morning make sure that she shows up at work. If you can schedule some of your cooking lessons within those times, then even better, as far as I'm concerned. If within that time frame, for whatever reason, she doesn't show up where she's supposed to be, I want you to call me immediately."

The entire time the Siren was speaking, Patti sat there shaking her head. When Aria had finished, the girl grimaced.

"No way. Maybe you and your blue friend are fine with stalking people but I—"

"Sonata's my sister," Aria corrected her, tired of the waitress using the word 'friend' to describe their complicated, and coronary-inducing relationship.

Patti cocked an eyebrow.

"Well, that makes a hell of a lot of sense, then, doesn't it?" she quipped. "Regardless, there's no way I'm gonna—"

"Do it and not only will I put in a good word for you with Bubs, but you have my solemn promise that the 'blue nut,' as you so eloquently refer to her, won't hear a peep about it from me."

This silenced Patti. Her lips drew in tight.

"And if I refuse?"

"Then you don't get the job, and I tell Sonata, anyway. Whatever consequences come with that are your burden to bear, and my entertainment with which to amuse myself. Simple as that."

Again, Patti was shaking her head. The grimace had stretched wider across her face, and it was made clear that she was now quite furious.

"This is illegal, you know. Like, everything about you and your wackjob sister is illegal," she hissed, rising to her feet, and reaching over to snatch the book out of Aria's hand. She shook it menacingly in the Siren's face. "It's already bad enough that I've had to take this crap from Sonata, but like hell am I gonna take it from some stupid, purple, sour-faced grump that I don't even know. I should drag your ass out back right now, and—"

Aria's eyes flashed. Her hand shot forward, and slapped the book out of Patti's grasp, pressing it against the tabletop. Her nails dug into the wood around it. With the other hand, she managed to grab hold of the mortal's collar, dragging her forward, and nearly upsetting both of their beer glasses.

It warmed the cockles of the Siren's cold heart to be reminded of the pegasus-like agility that had never quite managed to leave her, even after all these lifetimes. Still, at the moment, she found herself lost in a state of complete impatience. Staring coldly into Patti's eyes, she shook the startled girl's collar once, and drew her in even closer.

"You know, I suppose you aren't to blame for not knowing who I am; so I can't fault you on that. But I would advise you to start rethinking the way you approach people you're mostly unacquainted with. You never know who you might be threatening, and it seems that's already gotten you into enough trouble as is." The Siren quite literally growled, something deep and feral escaping from her core. "What say you try that whole bit again?"

Patti said nothing, lost in a state of terror at the speed at which Aria had managed to get hold of her. A shiver ran up her spine as she listened to the immortal's nails scraping against wood, dragging her book back toward her own side of the table.

They stood there like that, glaring into each other's eyes for a long while. A few patrons and even Buzz had paused what they were doing to stare.

"No trouble in here, ladies. Take it outside, okay?" the barkeep urged cautiously.

Aria's eyes still had not wavered from Patti's.

"Whaddya say, Patti?" she posed.

The last thing she expected the mouthy waitress to do was to break out into tears. Yet, no sooner had she spoken did large droplets begin to fall from those sapphire eyes, hitting the table with very audible 'plops'.

Needless to say, this reaction caught the Siren by surprise. If Patti had chosen that particular moment to deck her in the jaw, the punch would have most certainly landed. Not knowing what else to do, Aria's eyes darted about, a sickened look befalling her as, finger by finger, she released her grip upon the brunette's collar.

"Uuuh," she stammered, ringing her hand off as if such disgusting levels of emotion were dangerously contagious.

"I can't do this anymore!" Patti exclaimed through a fresh spray of tears. "Everyone hates me!"

Now, they were drawing even more stares. Aria felt her face beginning to flush as her eyes darted about. Sinking down into her seat, she opened her book, and hid her face behind it, fed up with the overly dramatic waitress' antics.

"Geez, will you relax?" she hissed. "I wasn't gonna actually hurt you or anything. Just... y'know... maybe sock you once in the boob or something."

Shockingly, this didn't work to quell the mortal's distress.

"I don't understand! Why is everyone making my life so miserable?" Patti wailed. "I mean, I know I'm not perfect, but all this? This is too much!"

"Shh!" Aria pressed, somehow managing to sink even lower into her seat. "Just shut u—Look, it's not you, okay? You just got tangled up with the wrong person. Sonata's crazy. Both of my sisters are actually crazy, and to be quite honest, you probably don't deserve whatever it is she's doing to you, alright? Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Wait a minute. There's another one of you loonies?" Patti yelped, her eyes going wide with panic.

"Just fucking calm down, and drink your beer for Chaos' sake, you freaking baby!" Aria hissed, baring her teeth. "Nobody's gonna hurt you!"

Surprisingly, this worked. Sniffling to herself, Patti nodded once, picked up her glass, and nursed it through a few dry heaves, just as a baby would a bottle. When she was absolutely sure that the girl wouldn't break out into sobbing again, Aria sat up.

"Look, I can get you this job, and make sure you don't lose it, okay? I just need you to watch Cookie like I said for a few days. That's all."

The way the waitress was looking into her eyes and sniffling in the most pitiful manner made the Siren think she just might break out into tears once again. Choking back a few small heaves, Patti gripped her half-finished glass with both hands, and took a deep breath.

"You must really like her or something, huh?" she squeaked. Aria jumped in her seat, looking around to make sure nobody had heard.

"Wha? Who told y—Of course not!" she denied, then pausing for a moment to stare at the girl. "Uhh, why? Do you or somethin'?"

Patti rolled her red, teary eyes. Gradually, her usual demeanor returned.

"Pfft. I don't swing that way, thank you very much. Buuut," a glimmer of a grin escaped her, "I can tell that you like her a lot if you're asking me to follow her around like this."

"I, uhhh. Errr..." the Siren stammered, her entire face going even rosier.

"Hey, it's alright! I don't really care," Patti cut in, running a finger around the rim of her glass. She thought to herself a moment. "Now that I think about it. She does mention you a lot."

Aria's eyeballs nearly popped out of her skull.

"She does—Ahh, w-what does she say?"

"Never mentioned you by name, I guess because she figured it wouldn't ever matter to me. Only calls you 'that girl that she works with'. Always talking about how cool and pretty you are or whatever, though I don't see it, honestly. Says you're capable of holding obscene amounts of liquor, which again explains a lot, and that you're the only non-old person she knows who still actually listens to a cd player in a non-ironic way."

There went that weird chest flutter and mouth curling sensation again. Aria bit down upon her tongue to halt it before it could spread.

"Also mentioned how good you are at guitar, actually. Said I should ask you for a lesson or two one day if I ever wanted to learn, but I don't think I'll be doing that anytime soon," Patti finished, cutting her eyes in the Siren's direction.

"Uhh, yea. Don't bother. I wouldn't say yes, anyway," Aria murmured, her mind not all the way present. Willing herself back to attention, she sat upright, and forced a stern look onto her face. "Listen, none of that is important right now. All that matters is that we help each other, okay? Do we have a deal or not?"

Patti studied her for a moment, again chewing voraciously upon her bottom lip. After a few seconds of consideration, she reached out with a hand for a shake.

"Deal," she replied.

Aria moved to take her hand, only for the waitress to quickly pull away, shooting the Siren a sly grin.

"But first, I wanna hear you say it."

Aria shot her an angry glare, already knowing what was to come.

"Say what?" she asked anyway. One could never be too sure. Perhaps this wasn't any sort of impending humiliation like she thought it was after all.

"I want to hear you say out loud that you like Cookie. That you care about her enough to ask me to do this."

Nope. Humiliation it was.

Aria's eyes narrowed into spiteful slits. This girl was pushing it, alright. Not only was she foolishly bent on pissing her off, but by insisting that she say such a thing out loud, she was also on the verge of putting Cookie in even greater danger.

"No," the Siren hissed with finality.

Patti shrugged and studied her fingernails.

"Well, maybe Cookie and I could have a longer chat next time about how you—"

"I won't," Aria insisted, her eyes going wide. "I can't."

Eyeing her suspiciously, Patti rubbed the pads of her fingertips together.

"Fine..." she murmured, the word full of implications, and none of them to the Siren's liking.

At last, Aria took a deep breath, and closed her eyes.

"You're such a bitch," she muttered, at which time Patti giggled, and picked up her beer glass to take a sip.

"Hey, I'm gonna get whatever enjoyment out of this that I can, and nothing less," she joked, raising the glass to her lips.

"I... like her," the Siren grumbled under her breath.

"Whawassat?" Patti prodded, raising a hand to her ear. "Didn't quite catch that."

"I frikkin' like her, alright? She's one of the few people alive who I can tolerate, and so what? It's not like that makes me weird or different or something! Everybody loves Cookie! Big fuckin' whoop!"

By this time, Patti was chortling into the rim of her glass. Placing the thing down gently upon the table, she clasped her hands together as if she were on the verge of closing down some tenuous deal in a boardroom meeting.

"I never implied that you loved her, but that's good to know! Sweet even," she purred.

Aria's lips fumbled about for a moment before they settled into a defeated grimace. Her entire head had gone red.

"You never bring this up in conversation to me or anyone else again, got it?" she commanded, digging her nails into the table.

"Ah," Patti halted her with a raised finger. "These are details not aforementioned when this agreement was made."

She then held her hand out for a shake.

"I'll follow her for you, and give you a call if anything should happen. That's all you need to know."

Huffing loudly, Aria reluctantly took the waitress' hand in her own, shook once, and then reached into her bottomless jacket pockets for a pen and two scraps of paper. After retrieving them, she covered one scrap with her book, discreetly scribbled her house number, folded it, and shoved both papers and the pen across the table.

"Here," she muttered. "Now, write yours down, and give it to me.

Patti looked perplexed as she stared down at the paper.

"God, what're you, like forty? You could have just told me the number so I could put it into my phone," she groaned, pulling her phone out of her pocket, and beginning to type in the numbers. "Here, I'll just tell you mine."

Aria, started out of her seat, book in hand. Covering the phone with the thing, she passed the girl an angry glare.

"No, you shut up, and write it down," she barked. "I'll memorize it."

Utterly confused, and too exhausted with the situation to care, Patti shrugged and obediently complied, scribbling her number down upon the unused scrap whilst Aria covered the paper from view. When she was finished, The Siren snatched the thing up, and stared at it intently. After a few seconds, she crumpled the paper up with a fist, pulled out her lighter, and torched it. The brunette before her scoffed at the odd sight of all this.

"You memorized it alread—"

"Yep," Aria replied, her patience for the entire rendezvous now gone. Gulping down the rest of her beer, she collected her things together, and stood up to leave. "It's getting dark. I suggest you get started right now."

Noting the Siren's impending escape, Patti bolted upright in her seat.

"W...wait a second. Where are you going?" the waitress inquired, turning about to face her as she headed toward the back of the bar.

Aria rolled her eyes yet again.

"I believe the owner of this fine establishment, and I are due for a chat about some possible upcoming employment opportunities, don't you?"

She then turned away to prevent herself from staring directly into the searing brunt of the most heartwarmingly grateful smile she had ever seen, plastered across Patti's face.

"Ack. My eyes."
___

Aria wasn't exactly clear on what to feel during the walk home. Somehow, she was caught in a space between both relief and grief. There was a plan to redirect whatever horrible actions Starshot might have wanted to take against them all, hurting Cookie included, but it almost seemed too simple to be as effective as she knew it would be.

Adagio had been the one to lure him and his wife in, but if Aria were to be absolutely honest with herself, it was she who had disrupted the time mage's life forever. Had she not drained his wife to the point of mindlessness, he would probably have never come after them in the first place. It was revenge for his wife that the wizard really wanted, and if she could thwart his avenues for taking it, then perhaps all this dread and terror would cease.

Looking back toward the warm light emanating from Cookie's shop door, Aria could just make out Patti's silhouette standing beside the threshold. Wondering why she hadn't decided to simply wait for her inside, she quickly remembered that the waitress wasn't exactly on the best of terms with Muddy Wheeler. Fortunately for the Siren, a few moments later, down the road and on the opposite side of the street, she spotted a familiar bomber jacket and poof of curly, white hair heading toward the shop door.

Knowing that she could not be spotted in the evening light, thanks to her dark clothing, she paused mid step in order to watch the woman. Loaded down with her usual bags full of bobs and bits, she walked up to Patti, smiled, and stopped to speak. Without having to hear a word of the exchange, Aria already knew what it was they were conversing about, and somehow that was enough to send a wave of calm rushing through her. Nodding to herself with satisfaction, she reached into her pocket for a cigarette and lighter, lit it, and then turned toward home.

Everything was going to be alright. Now, the only thing left to do was to find a little courage—preferably the liquid kind—in order to complete her important task. But concerning this, there was still one more thing that could—no, scratch that—would stand in her way: Adagio.

Admittedly, her sisters were clever enough to figure out what she was up to if given ample time to ponder on it all, especially together. Granted, Sonata tended to quickly lose interest in things if instructed to by her elders; however, Adagio was a nosey one, and Aria was quite sure that she would never stop delving until she had discovered everything there was to learn about whatever it was she was hiding. Thus, the sullen Siren committed herself to finding ways to keep them both as distracted, confused, and separated as possible until her mission was complete. It didn't have to be an overly elaborate production nor would it all have to last for very long. Simple enough, wasn't it? Already, a plan of action had begun to form in her mind. It worked to lift her spirits even higher, if that were at all believable.

—-

By the time she had walked through the door of her home, Aria was cheerily whistling to herself through little plumes of cigarette smoke. The TV was blaring somewhere in the living room, and surprisingly, she didn't hear any of the typical sounds that would usually be emanating from the kitchen at this time of night, nor did she smell anything cooking.

Kicking off her boots by the door, she sauntered into the living room only to spot both Sonata and Adagio sprawled in various poses of carelessness across the old couch. Sonata sipped forlornly upon a near empty juice packet whilst Adagio, hair unraveled, bare feet kicked up onto the coffee table, flipped through channel after channel.

Snorting at the rather pitiful sight of them, Aria moved to stand next to her eldest sister, and still puffing upon her cigarette, placed a hand upon her hip.

"Who farted in your smog?" she inquired. Adagio's eyes were the only pair to slide in her direction, shooting her the most irritated of glares.

"I thought I told you to only smoke outside or in your own filthy room," the eldest Siren grunted.

This comment didn't seem to phase Aria even though she still obliged her sister's wishes by smashing the butt out into an empty candy dish upon the table. Exhaling out her last puff of smoke, she nudged her chin in Sonata's direction.

"So, uh, she's not gonna cook tonight, I take it," she muttered. Neither of the two other girls moved an inch save for Adagio's shrugging. Both of their eyes remained locked boredly upon the T.V. screen. "Geez, that bad of a day, huh?"

Having gotten quite tired of not receiving any replies, Aria sighed, and quickly headed off toward the kitchen. The sound of the landline receiver being raised off of the hook, and subsequently, the middle Siren's voice mumbling something to itself wafted into the living room. After a while, the phone was slammed back down, and Aria returned with three wine glasses, and a freshly opened bottle of Moscato in hand.

"I ordered a pizza. Extra large," she stated. No response except for a low, gurgling groan escaping from the depths of Sonata's throat. Aria stared at her and motioned with her chin.

"No, really. The hell's wrong with her?"

Adagio's eyes peered into the rosy girl's hands.

"Sonata ate too much of that crap down at Sammy's again. Plus, she’s been complaining about her nose or something ever since she got home. Claims she has a cold, even though that doesn’t make any kind of sense, whatsoever,” the eldest Siren grumbled, side-eyeing the youngest girl. She then paused, remembering her initial point of contention.

“Is that my brand new Moscato in your grubby hands?"

"It is," Aria replied plainly, not looking unnerved in the slightest by the cautioning tone in Adagio's voice. "Want some?"

The eldest Siren studied her for a second, weighing out the pros and cons of lashing out at her sister before sighing heavily, and sitting up straight.

"I'm sorry, did someone tell you that my dessert wine somehow pairs well with your 'Mighty Meat Lovers Special'?" she harped until she saw Aria shrug, and fill one of the glasses near to the brim. The enticing color of it drew the eldest Siren in. Soon, she found herself licking her lips. "Dammit, just fill me up."

A small smile cracked Aria's stoic visage as she knelt down before the coffee table, placed the two free glasses down, and poured out a hefty sum for Adagio. For Sonata, she only filled the bottom portion of the glass. Passing the smallest vessel to the youngest girl first, Aria waited until she tentatively took it out of her hand.

"Drink it. It might actually help you feel better," she urged her. Hesitating for just a moment, Sonata studied the glass.

"This isn't gonna be gross like all the other stuff you girls make me drink is it?" she inquired apprehensively. Aria thought to herself for a moment.

"Actually, no. I don't think so. You might even like it."

Blinking a few times, the youngest Siren brought the glass up to her mouth and took a few tentative sips. Licking her lips, she nodded to herself a couple times, and then chugged the entire thing down.

"That is pretty good," she murmured. "Can I have some—"

"No," Aria replied bluntly, stopping up the bottle.

"Well, well. Someone's in a chipper mood tonight," Adagio gibed, ignoring Sonata's pouting, picking up her own glass, and giving it a swirl. "You drinking wine? Ordering us dinner? What's the catch?"

Aria had to admit that ever since things had so nicely fallen into place back at Bubbles, she had been feeling something akin to pleasant. She now saw her future clearly, and neither her sisters, nor anyone else would know, could hold her from it, or would suffer because of her past actions. Everything was going to be alright, and she would be the one to make sure of it.

"Eh, won a bet down at the bar tonight," she lied, trying to hide her desire to smile. "Figured I'd share the wealth."

"Ah, so that's where all of your cigarette funds have been coming from," Adagio hummed, taking a huge swig from her glass. "I hope you won enough to replace this bottle."

This made Aria chuckle, a sight that shocked both Adagio and Sonata into attention.

"You got it," she muttered without contest.

Getting up to go fetch some plates, the usually glum Siren never even noticed her two sisters gawking at her the entire way there. When she began to hum cheerily to herself, Sonata took the opportunity to tug repeatedly upon Adagio's arm, nearly making her spill wine onto her pristine white blouse. Swatting her hand away, the eldest Siren passed her sister an irritated glare.

"What is it?" she growled placing her glass down, lest any of her precious Moscato was accidentally wasted.

"Adagio," Sonata hissed, her eyes wide, voice panicked. "She's humming show tunes! I'm scared!"

Adagio considered this, rubbing her chin as she peered in the direction of the kitchen. Picking up her glass, she finished off its contents in one, big gulp.

"Hmm," she sighed, finding that she actually did agree with Sonata's sentiment. "Yes, she's definitely up to something, alright."

There was something brewing in the back of Adagio's mind—a bad inkling, a horrid suspicion. She dared not mention it out loud right at that instant for fear of spraying such foul thoughts into the atmosphere, granting them the ability to solidify and make themselves real. Instead, she would just continue to fill her gob with more wine.

When the doorbell finally rang and the two sisters witnessed Aria practically skip—in a rather Sonata-like fashion—to go fetch their pizza, Adagio poured herself another full glass, and quickly downed the entire thing. Something clearly wasn't right, indeed, and like every other secret that foolishly tried to hide itself away from her, she would be sure to get to the bottom of it once and for all.

Author's Note

Early Modern English... Go fig. :twilightoops: :facehoof:

Forced Calm

Four pristinely manicured nails tapped in tandem upon the kitchen counter, and were halted abruptly by the 'ding' of a timer. Two crisped slices of bread popped from the toaster, and were swiftly snatched up into a pair of yellow hands that then placed them neatly upon a clean, white dish. A freshly rinsed butter knife dug into a glass jar brimming with raspberry jam, and plopped a glob down upon one slice and then the other, smearing the spread evenly upon each.

Closing the lid of the jar, Adagio stole a bite from one of the slices before carrying the jam back to the fridge. On her way there, she grabbed an empty, posie-printed mug from a nearby cupboard. After putting the blade away and pouring herself a much needed cup of caffeine, she then returned to the kitchen counter upon whose far side sat an array of electronics, her laptop included.

Carrying her meager breakfast over toward the pile of machinery, she placed the wares down, sat herself upon a stool, and pushed away a box with a picture of a digital recorder on its side. A phone would have been a much more useful contraption, but in her current pinch, this would work just fine.

She cracked open the laptop with one hand, and used the other to take a sip from her mug. Interestingly enough, the screen was blank, its brightness setting purposely turned all the way off. In addition to this, a thick, black cut of cloth had been strewn across the keyboard.

Rolling up the purple sleeves of her sweater, Adagio leaned forward, flung the cloth over the laptop screen, and turned up the brightness just enough to make out the vague shapes upon the display. A chat window was open, and her nameless, faceless contact had seemingly logged on just a few moments prior.

Making sure that the cursor was inside of the chat window, she turned the brightness off once again draped the black cloth over the keyboard, and shoved her hands beneath it. With no way to read what she was writing, Adagio began to type as she thought out the transcription in her head.

So, we have an agreement, then? Fifty bucks for you to orate everything that I put in the email onto a digital audio recording. Then you'll send that recording back to me. Here is my number. Call me and repeat what I have told you in a very low voice, if you wouldn't mind it.

She typed in her phone number, and then waited a few moments until she heard the 'ping' sound that indicated a reply notification. A few moments later, the kitchen's landline rang. Snatching the receiver off of the hook, Adagio braced it to her ear, eyes all aglow.

"Yes," she replied muffling as much sound escaping from the receiver as possible with her hair and the sleeves of her sweater. "That's correct. Perfect."

And with that, she hung up the phone. Now came the slightly tricky part.

She restarted the laptop, and once it was rebooted, turned up the brightness level once again. Expectedly, the messenger application had closed down during restart. Proceeding to dig through her chat folders, Adagio found the applicable file with the day's date and time, and promptly deleted it. She then popped open a fresh email draft, dug around in her sweater pocket for a flash drive she had been carrying everywhere on her person for days, plugged it into the laptop, and attached a stored document file into the email draft. Positive that she had conveyed everything required to her contact beforehand, she moved the cursor to the receiver's address box, and entered a nickname she had created for the individual a few days prior, amongst twelve other fakes. She then moved the cursor to send, and clicked the button. As soon as it had cleared her outbox, she closed out of the window, deleted all drafts of the message, emptied all waste bins, and deleted the stored contact email address.

Now the only way for Starshot to have read the message or find her contact would be for him to have appeared about five minutes prior to pull the cloth off of her hands, and read it over her shoulder in person whilst it was typed and sent. All immediately available traces of the message were gone, and she was banking on the notion that the time mage wasn't exactly an expert in computer cryptology.

Thinking over the current leg of her plan as she now munched freely upon her toast, Adagio took a deep breath, and nodded to herself with satisfaction. It had taken three days since her first meeting with Sunset for her to be absolutely sure that she had prepared everything that needed saying and had covered the bases necessary. For now, all that was left to do was to wait.

Staring off into space, the eldest Siren's mind was momentarily made free to wander. Naturally, her thoughts drifted to her sisters namely, the growing distress acknowledging their predicament was causing Sonata, and the undoubtedly brash conclusions such acknowledgments were possibly leading Aria toward.

Absent-mindedly reaching into the sizeable pocket sewn into her sweater once again, Adagio fumbled about until her fingers hooked around a small keychain. Her gaze drifted up ominously toward a high kitchen cabinet with, strangely, a brand new keylock drilled firmly into its facade.

Frowning to herself, the eldest Siren never even noticed Aria stumbling like a zombie down the stairs until the girl was standing right beside her, pantless and draped in an oversized tshirt, as usual. By the looks of it, she was suffering from yet another hangover. Adagio grimaced at the sight, her gaze shifting between the oven clock and her sister's dazed face.

"It's almost noon," she muttered, insistent on not allowing Aria to get away with this type of behaviour, especially if she was no longer planning on going to work. To her utmost dismay, Aria forced a gasp, and put on a blatantly fake expression of shock.

"Gosh, and it only took you how many hours to make your breakfast?" the wobbly, headache-plagued Siren jabbed. "Toast and jam. Wow. Setting the bar high for yourself today, huh, Adagio?"

The eldest Siren sighed loudly, hoping the sound would drown out the din of her sister's grating laughter. It didn't.

"Coffee?" Aria inquired, swiftly wiping the incident from her mind.

Adagio lazily pointed a single finger toward the counter.

"Just made some."

"Oh, sweet monster of mercy," the younger girl groaned, padding off across the floor to go fetch a fresh mug. Reaching about in the cupboard, she then pulled down a chipped, black-colored thing with the word 'NO' printed boldly in white caps upon its side.

After pouring herself a cup, she quickly proceeded to down half of it, never noticing the scrutinizing gaze her elder sister was giving her. Refilling her drained mug, she soon felt settled enough to finally face her annoying observer. Eyes no longer so exhausted and pained-looking, they flickered in that bright way that only Aria's could. Motioning with her mug-clenching hand, she shot Adagio a grin.

"Where's your badass piano teacher getup?" she asked, now eyeing the leggings beneath the other girl's sweater.

"Where's your shame?" Adagio quipped, directing a half-eaten slice of toast toward Aria's bare, skinny legs. After watching her sister snicker to herself, the elder girl dusted her hands off, and leaned forward upon her elbows. "I canceled my classes today. Had some important things to take care of."

"Ahh. Playing hookie," Aria hummed looking intrigued. "We'll make a proper delinquent out of you yet, Adagio Dazzle."

Glancing out toward the living room, for the first time that morning, Aria realized that Sonata was nowhere to be found.

"Where's the blue one?" she asked, taking another sip from her mug.

"She wasn't feeling well. All of that crud came up out of her system, but idunno." Adagio swept a lock of hair over her shoulder, and rested her chin upon her hand. "Something else must have happened that she isn't telling me about. She wasn't feeling up to anything today."

"So, we've all got the day off?" Aria snorted, grinning brightly. Staring off into nowhere, that grin suddenly faltered. "Huh... Maybe we should do something, y'know? Or idunno. Take advantage of... well y'know."

The elder Siren grimaced, disturbed by her sister's downright unnaturally cheerful behavior.

"Alright, cut the crap, Aria," she crowed. "What the hell's gotten into you?"

"Idunno what you're on about, Dazzle. Has what gotten into me?" Aria sighed, hoisting herself up onto the counter, and reaching over to steal a big bite of her sister's toast. "Mm! This is good!"

"That's exactly what I'm talking about!" the elder girl cried. "'Mm, this is good?' Who the hell are you, and why are you so damned chipper? You've got a hangover for Chaos' sake! Right about now, you should be somewhere between deciding whether to flip me off or scratch your ass. Instead you're 'tee heeing' all over my toast, and suggesting that we all hang out... with Sonata, too?"

Aria rolled her eyes and quickly hopped off of the counter. Heading over to rummage through the cupboards, she then began pulling down an array of cooking supplies and ingredients.

"I'm gonna make myself some pancakes and bacon, and then I'll be out of your hair for the rest of the day. How does that sound to you?" she asked, clearly blowing off Adagio's concerns. With her back turned, she never noticed the eldest Siren making her way off of the stool, and silently walking up behind her. "By the way, where are the painkillers? I've got a bitch of a headache right n—"

Adagio clamped onto Aria's arm, and spun her about. Gripping her firmly by the shoulders, she glared into the younger girl's eyes.

"You've got something rolling about in that brick hard skull of yours," Adagio murmured, "and I wanna know what it is. What are you planning?"

It was then that something descended upon the eldest Siren like seeping syrup. More specifically, a feeling of profound helplessness. Worries both ancient and crippling struck her right in the gut as she stared into her sister's eyes. The grip upon her shoulders tightened as she pulled her in a little closer.

Aria, catching the sudden change in her sister's demeanor, worked her jaw. Though her expression had gone quite grim, she could no longer look the elder girl in the eye, already having deciphered what silent messages they were relaying.

"Aria?" Adagio breathed. The sudden tremor in her voice was clear. "If you're thinking of doing what I think—"

The younger girl shoved her sister in the shoulder, forcing her back.

"I've told you before, I don't like you trying to get into my head," she grumbled. "You don't get to treat me like one of your fucking meals."

The two went quiet for a long time. Adagio, who was standing off to the side looking a bit stunned, eventually managed to take a few deep breaths to regain her composure. She crossed her arms, and stood tall, putting on an imposing front.

"I moved the painkillers downstairs. They're there in the top cupboard now. The one with the lock," she muttered, gesturing toward the wall of kitchen cabinets. This earned a curious look from Aria, one that didn't seem to bother the eldest girl in the slightest. She pulled the stool into the kitchen, climbed atop of it, unlocked the cabinet in question, and collected a sizeable bottle of painkillers from where they sat next to a host of other supplies and medicines which had been drawn from various places around the house. The younger Siren looked as if she wanted to ask why Adagio would have done such a thing, but after further consideration, it seemed pointless. The reasoning behind it was made quite clear to them both.

When Adagio descended from the stool she turned, and plopped the bottle down upon the counter.

"Here."

Hesitating for only a moment, the younger Siren reached out, and grabbed hold of the container. Twisting the cap open, she poured two tablets into her palm, threw them back, and downed them both with a swig of coffee. Locking the lid back into place, she then turned to leave, the bottle still clenched in her hand.

"What about your pancakes and bacon?" Adagio inquired, sounding far too smug for Aria's tastes.

"Not hungry anymore. Thanks for that by the way," she chirped, craning her neck to the side.

"You have a belly full of coffee and pills. You need food and some water, or you'll end up like Sonata," Adagio chided, trying her best to remain calm. Her eyes flashed once toward the bottle of pills in Aria's hand. Aria noted this.

"Ok, yea, thanks, Ma. I'll be sure to get on that right whenever the hell I feel like it," she spat, now feeling quite irritated. Taking a step in the direction of the stairs, she was halted abruptly by Adagio grasping at her wrist. Caught by surprise, she turned about to see what was the matter.

"Leave the bottle here," Adagio prodded gently. If it wasn't for the grim look in her eyes, Aria might have even felt somewhat convinced that the command was innocent in its nature.

"Why?" she retorted, if only to irritate her elder even more. "You got a headache now, too?"

"As a matter of fact, I think I do feel one coming on now that you mention it," Adagio clucked, releasing her grip upon her sister. She held her hand out. "Give. Me. The bottle, Aria."

Staring her down for a moment, Aria turned slowly, sauntered up to her, and plopped the container down into her palm. Clicking her tongue against her teeth a few times, she then reached up, and prodded a finger into the center of Adagio's chest. Some part of her hoped she was grazing a painful scar.

"You don't know me as well as you think you do, Dazzle," she hissed, her eyes boring into her. Something in her tone of voice sounded defensive, in denial.

"I know enough," Adagio retorted, twisting the lid of the closed bottle just for emphasis.

Huffing in Adagio's direction, Aria spun about on her heels, and stomped upstairs. It was only then that the elder girl released the breath she had been holding. Her expression was shaken, startled even as she stared down at the bottle in her hand and then again toward the direction in which Aria had departed. Shaking her head, she rubbed her temples, and made her way back toward her laptop.

—

Aria had managed to make it to the top of the stairs and out of Adagio's sight before her shaking knees collapsed upon themselves. Catching herself against the wall, she crouched down and took a deep, rattling breath.

That was close. That was so close that it almost made her second guess herself. If she had stayed around Adagio for another moment longer, she might have broken. Then her elder sister would've known everything she needed to know, and Aria would have surely found herself caught up into one of those mind bending spiderwebs of hers, thwarted from her plans at every turn. Perhaps the curly-haired nuisance would have even found some way to talk her out of it completely. For now, however, she was still safe, and the plan was still on. If only the other two could know that she was doing it for their own good.

Aria hated how emotional such things always seemed to make her. Still, she couldn't say that it wasn't warranted. She had spent a long, long time with these two. The least she could do now was treat them nicely. Yet, somehow the notion never seemed to sit quite right in her stomach, maybe because anyone who constantly managed to be sweet and amicable all the time was also almost always being disingenuous. Her actions today would be no exception to this theory.

Taking one more deep breath, the shaken Siren rose to her feet, and quickly darted off toward Sonata's room. Perhaps it would be easier to get the ball rolling with her. Knocking so gently upon the door that she was sure no one would be able to hear it, she lowered her hand toward the knob and twisted.

The room was dim, covered in an array of store bought stuffed animals or those sewn by Sonata's own hand. Two charming paintings of radiant wildflowers hung on the wall that braced the back of the bed. The nestled, snoring lump under the flowery covers lay amidst all of this frill and fur as if the sight of it would have dissuaded any saner being from a nightmare-packed slumber.

Quietly closing the door behind her, Aria crept deeper into Sonata's overly cheery domain to take a seat upon the side of her bed. She pulled the covers away from the blue girl's face, and nearly smiled at how peaceful she looked, despite the presence of the oversized, creepy-faced teddy bear she was clutching to her chest. Before a pang of regret could phase her, Aria reached out to gently nudge the girl in the back.

"Psst. Hey," she whispered in the dark. Sonata fidgeted for a moment, swatted her hand away, and turned around. Aria smirked. "Hey. Hey, blue face! Wake up!"

She nudged her again. This time a small smile crept across the sleeping girl's face.

"Blue... Bluey," Sonata giggled to herself on the edges of slumber in a far too antiquated accent.

Aria rolled her eyes.

"Hey, mush for brains! Wake up, will ya?" she hissed, cuffing her sister in the back. This finally roused the sleeping Siren, nearly making her tumble out of the bed.

"Huh?" she snorted, sitting up in a rush, and flailing the teddy bear in Aria's direction. One of her hands connected with the older girl's cheek before the giant, furry onslaught nearly took her down for good."He's here! Adagio! He's gonna—"

A fuchsia hand slapped over her mouth, and pressed her back into the mattress. The other hand snatched the offending stuffed animal out of Sonata's grip, and promptly tossed it away into some far corner where it landed with a protesting squeak.

"Shut the hell up, you dolt! It's just me!" Aria hissed, holding the girl there until she had managed to calm herself.

"Oh! Aria! You nearly scared me to... I-I thought you were that—"

"No," the elder girl silenced her. "I just came to... to, uh, ask you something."

"Okay," Sonata stated with a sleepy nod, tucking her disheveled hair behind her ears. Sitting up in bed, she yawned and rubbed her tired eyes. "What is it?"

Aria hesitated for a second before she managed to speak.

"You, uh... you feeling a little better today?"

This instantly put Sonata on guard. Her arms lowered, and she turned to peer at her sister with the greatest of suspicions.

"Yyyyea. Why?"

Aria reached up to scratch behind her head.

"Well, uh. So, actually, it turns out that we all seem to have the day off for the most part, and uh... and don't hug me or anything when I tell you this, but uh..."

She glanced tentatively into Sonata's eyes. The girl stared back at her looking both troubled and disgustingly innocent, per usual. Sighing heavily, Aria resigned herself to forcing out what it was she had to say.

"I looked in the paper, and uh...there's this stupidly early fall fair going on outside of town, and I thought that maybe we three could spend some time there... together."

She braced herself for the impending hug that she had already instructed the girl not to give her. Strangely enough, nothing happened. When she opened one of her clenched eyes to see what was the matter, she noted Sonata now sitting there, giving her a saddened, knowing look.

"Why?" the younger girl prodded. "Why would you wanna do something like that, Aria? You never want to do stuff together, especially not with me."

The elder girl couldn't meet her gaze. Why did it seem as if everyone could see right through her? Surely she wasn't so transparent, was she?

"Because I'm in a chipper fucking mood, that's why. I'm just trying to be..." she trailed off, noting how this sounded nothing like something she would ever say. She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Look, do you wanna go or not?"

Sonata gazed down at her blanket, anxiously tugging at her fingers. She sniffed to herself and nodded her head.

"Alright," she sighed, sounding defeated. Aria dared not address this sudden bout of melancholy.

"Cool. So, uh... in that case, I need you to do something for me," she said, getting to her feet, and propping her hands upon her hips.

"W...what is it?" Sonata inquired.

"Well, actually it's two things, the first one being that I need you to convince the cheesepuff to come along with us, and make it sound like it was all your idea."

Sonata nodded obediently.

"I can do that. What's the second thing?"

Aria spun her loose hair around into a thick cord and flung the mass over one shoulder. She waved a dismissive hand at her sister before turning to head toward the door.

"I'll tell you that later."

——

Three shots, all bullseyes. Adagio smiled smugly and hitched the pellet gun up to her side as alarms, bells, and all other manners of cheesy whizz-bangs sounded across the wooden booth.

"Fifth time a winner, miss," the booth tender laughed whilst reaching up for yet another stuffed animal. "What's your secret?"

Craning her head over to her right, Adagio noted both of her sisters standing there observing, one of them with a small teddy bear tucked under each arm as she greedily finished off the last bits of a funnel cake, and the other, looking far less enthusiastic about the situation, dragging a gigantic stuffed rabbit along on the ground whilst flicking dirt out from beneath the fingernails of her free hand. Turning back around to face the booth tender, Adagio shot the man a winning grin as he tossed another teddy bear Sonata's way.

"The first time was for the win. The last four were for the domination." She cocked the rifle, and picked it up to aim once more. "Shall I go for another, you think?"

The man raised his hands and shook them as if begging for mercy.

"Please, lady. Gimme a break. I only got so many bears."

Adagio met these words with a pout.

"And so what? It's not like any of them will actually win anything," she cried, directing a hand toward the young couple trying their luck—and failing miserably—at the game beside her.

Whilst preoccupied with her braggadocious propositions, the eldest Siren failed to notice a small girl who, just a few moments prior to her argument with the booth attendant, had crept up to her side to get a better look at her. When she did, the child passed her the biggest, syrup and confectioners sugar-coated, half-toothless grin she had ever seen.

"You're preeeettty," the little girl beguiled, lifting an enormous, swirled, and saliva-covered lollipop in her hand for Adagio to sample. "Want some?"

This obviously drew a disgusted sneer out of the eldest Siren, the likes of which the child had probably never seen. Such an expression was only offset by the adoring drone that escaped from somewhere in the depths of Sonata's throat.

"Awww, how cuuuuute!" she squealed as Aria held her back from lunging forward to pinch the child's cheeks.

"Ugh," the eldest Siren groaned as she plopped the pellet gun down, and began to walk away. "On second thought, I'm over this one. Let's go find something else."

Sonata's face fell at the look of utter rejection the little girl was now wearing. Thinking quickly, the cheeriest Siren turned about, grabbed the slightly ripped giganti-bear out of Aria's grasp, and shoved the hideous thing into the girl's arms, much to the child's delight.

"Thank you, other pretty lady!" she squealed, giving the giant, fuzzy monster a big hug. Sonata waved goodbye to her, now in hot pursuit of her big sister. Aria boredly followed close behind. "And you too, scary-voice, sad face lady!"

She paused mid-step, dangerously close to snatching one of Sonata's other teddies, and chucking it at the child's head. Fortunately for the little girl, the grim Siren was halted by Sonata dragging her away by the arm before she could create a scene worthy of the eight o'clock evening news.

The air remained crisp and cool as the day dragged on deeper into the afternoon. The fair—which interestingly enough was held on the lands of the family of that drawling, blonde, befreckled yokel from CHS—was growing increasingly more lively. Aria shook her head as she watched the patrons all tossing away their hard earned cash just to prove to the world how much they had strayed from being able to utilize even the most trivial of basic evolutionary abilities. The fair organizers and the Apple family must have made a fortune off of these idiots when all was said and done.

Still, at least the weather was nice, and her sisters...well, they seemed as happy as they could be considering the current circumstances. She had mostly brought them both here to keep them separated from each other, and to get some things off of her chest in a setting that would prove "kind" to them when they recalled it again however many weeks or years from now.

"Hey, Aria! Wanna challenge me to the "test-your-strength" thingie?" Sonata asked, shaking her out of her thoughts. "I'll bet you two chili dogs that I can beat you!"

Aria rolled her eyes. She was no fool. The might that the younger girl had picked up and maintained some time during her life as an earth pony was not exactly a well-kept secret. Sure, Aria was fast and agile in mind and body, qualities that proved extremely useful in the context of a fight—plus, she packed a mean left hook—but when it came right down to that special type of brute strength that could only be cultivated by a life spent in the fields doing unspeakable things to rocks, she wasn't too hard-pressed to admit that the adorable, blue, spacecase had her beat.

"Nah, I think I'll pass," she scoffed, holding a fresh cigarette between her lips as she leaned over to dig into her pocket. When her hand reappeared, it was filled with a wad of singles. She promptly slapped them down into Sonata's palm. "But you go knock yourself out. I'm sure there are more than a few people down there hankering for a slice of humble pie."

Squealing with glee, Sonata rushed forward to give Aria a hug before the elder girl jumped into a crude karate stance to ward her off. Taking the hint, she turned on her heel, and rushed off toward the game by herself.

Aria broke out into that all-too-familiar cackle as she watched her little sister shove some hopeless lightweight out of the way, grab the hammer, and make her way through a crowd of doting admirers offering to win the grand prize on her behalf. Oh boy, if only they knew what they were in for.

"A wad of ones?" Adagio scoffed, popping up as if by magic on Aria’s right side. "What kind of seedy underworld do you live in, Aria?"

"Our house," she quipped, unbothered by her sister's sudden appearance and blowing a plume of smoke into the crisp, autumn air. "It was in the basement, in that failed swear jar experiment you tried on me last year. At least it came in handy for something."

"Touché," Adagio replied, staving off a smile as they both watched Sonata raising the enormous mallet right over her head, and bringing it down hard upon the meter's platform. The puck shot up like a bullet, hitting the bell so hard, its ring continued to echo throughout the clearing for a good seven seconds. Needless to say, just about every jaw in line hit the straw-strewn earth.

Both Aria and Adagio shook their head in unison with pitying delight.

"Poor saps," Aria croaked.

"Mm. Indeed," the elder girl replied. Switching gears almost immediately, she turned to face her sister. "So, why'd you want us to come here, anyway?"

Aria nearly choked on her cigarette smoke. Damn, Adagio. Couldn't she ever give her nosiness a rest?

"What? This wasn't my idea. Why don't you go ask Sonata?" the younger Siren groaned, forcing out the most perturbed-sounding tone she could manage.

"Right. About that," Adagio sighed, crossing her arms and prodding her cheek with a fingertip. "When I asked Sonata how she came to know about this fair, she told me that a vision came to her in her sleep... and it punched her in the back."

Goddammit, Sonata...

Aria tried with little success to hide her frown.

"Yea, well... Sonata... rough sleeper... or somethin'..." the dour girl mumbled under her breath.

"And then when I asked her if she was feeling up for the trip, she smiled, said yes, and threw up all over my cashmere sweater," she finished, now inspecting her nails.

Aria's grimace grew even deeper. She inhaled a belabored breath.

"Yea, well, s'a ugly sweater..."

This was bad. If she didn't think of something quickly, Adagio would surely figure her out. She needed a decoy, something to throw the elder girl off of her trail. Making a mental note to slap the back of Sonata's head raw whenever the opportunity presented itself, Aria coughed once, and stood up straight.

"Dammit, what do you want from me, Adagio? You want me to drip hearts like the blue one? You want me to admit that what you said three days ago got to me, and that I care, and that I've been thinking about how we might not have a lot of time, and that I just want to make some enjoyable memories with whatever we have left? Will that quench your damned thirst for knowing my innermost secrets?"

Adagio blinked, studying the girl as she sucked anxiously upon her cigarette. After what felt like an eternity to Aria, she heard the elder Siren hum with satisfaction. This was exactly the reaction she had been looking for.

"I suppose," Adagio sighed. "Though while I understand making the best of your time, I still don't quite get being so damned happy about such horrible news... not that I won't figure a plan to fix this or anything."

Aria discarded her cigarette, and thought deeply to herself. Whilst studying her sister out of the corner of her eye, she considered the odds of outsmarting her.

She and her older sister had always butted heads. As a matter of fact, the sullen Siren imagined that even before their lives upon the land in Equestria, even before what she could recall of their age-old Sirenhood, they had probably bickered and quarreled all the same. That was just their "way".

Adagio was good at underestimating her, this was no secret. But it was made clear to Aria, oh, say, around the time of their banishment, that the eldest girl often underestimated her for all of the wrong reasons. Whatever shortcomings the middle sister might have projected, they never had anything to do with being less smart or cunning as Adagio. Unmotivated? Perhaps. Brash? Definitely. Pessimistic about...well...most things? Probably. But less honed, skilled, or seasoned? Not a chance.

And so, it was at that moment that Aria decided, for once, to use her sister's own shortcomings—her assumption that she was always right about her assumptions—against her.

"This might come as a shocker to you, so brace yourself: I don't see dying as an all around bad thing." A pause. "Seriously, why are you making me say that when you already know it?"

Adagio was already frowning as she pretended to pay attention to Sonata. The cheery girl had now taken over the hammer strike line in order to win prizes for a gathering of eagerly waiting children all queued up to the side of the large, metal pillar.

"Well, why do you keep saying things like that when you know they're going to upset me?" she retorted. "I thought we spoke about this."

"And that is the greatest difference between you and me," Aria chuckled, shoving her hands into her pockets. "You're afraid of death. The thought of it makes you uncomfortable, so you've always fought against getting too close to it. I... well, you already know. It doesn't scare me, at least not when I get to decide or know beforehand when... Hell, the thought of it comes with its comforts. Perhaps I am a little happy about the notion."

"Aria..." Adagio groaned, sounding completely exhausted.

"Some beings aren't cut out for immortality, Adagio. Maybe I'm just one of them. Simple as that."

"But you used to be," Adagio bleated. "Stop acting as if the way you were after being on land was the way you'd always been. We had an eternity before that. You seemed fine with your immortality then."

"Weren't you the one who said our time on land shaped us? Made us into what we are?" Aria jabbed.

"Yes, but—"

"So, this is what I am now, Adagio. You're going to just have to learn how to deal with that."

Things went silent for a bit. Adagio looked like a child who'd just been scolded. Her arms were folded, shoulders hunched. Aria waited for the inevitable snide remark, and smiled at the uncharacteristically adorable pout on her face.

"I am dealing with it," the elder girl sniffed.

Aria chuckled.

"Is that why you stole my screwdriver collection, and locked up all the meds in the kitchen?" she chuckled.

"It isn't funny," Adagio protested. "...And yes."

By this time, a hoard of fair goers had descended upon Sonata, some trying to pull the hammer out of her hands to no avail, the others attempting to drag her away from the game by the waist. Her gaze was directed toward her sisters as she pleaded for help.

Aria scoffed and shook her head.

"I swear, Dazzle, you've always been so dramatic about everything."

"Is this not something to be dramatic about?" Adagio exclaimed, motioning wildly with her arms. "It isn't as if you've been known to bluff about this sort of thing, Aria!"

"Why should I feel the need to rush things now?" Aria blurted, her patience waning. "Has it ever occurred to you that I might be interested in seeing how this all plays out, too?"

Her gaze shot toward Adagio's face. She smiled in relief when she saw the elder girl's shoulders relax, her poofy head begin to nod in agreement. Feeling rather proud of herself for putting her sister's worries to rest, Aria adjusted her shoulders, straightened her posture, and took a step out in Sonata's direction.

"Come on," she bid the older Siren. "Let's go save Sonata from herself before we get kicked outta here."

—-

It occurred to Aria about two hours after having arrived at the fair that she hadn't actually been up for this amount of general human interaction. That and how often she seemed to forget how relaxing hiding up in the branches of a tree could feel, even if this body wasn't particularly conducive to easily climbing them. She could recall those ancient days spent lightly flitting from branch to branch, balancing her rosy hooves careful upon the grooves of the wood. Despite their ability to shapeshift into pegasi, functioning on tree branches was something her sisters had never quite gotten the hang of. This made for plenty of pleasant memories spent in blessed solitude amongst creaking branches and rustling leaves.

Aria had just finished placing her second cigarette of the day between her lips whilst cracking open her favourite classic mystery novel when, from somewhere below her, she heard the one sound she had been hoping to avoid for at least the next twenty minutes.

"Ariiii! Let me up!"

"Sonata," she growled, not even taking a moment to look down at the girl on the ground. "Please, just a few moments of peace. Where is Adagio?"

"She found this pageant thing, and wanted to sit in the audience so she could throw popcorn at the stage. Lemme up!" Sonata continued to whine.

Aria simply took another puff from her smoke, and flipped a page, hoping the girl would eventually wander away.

"I brought you an ice cream cone!" the grounded Siren tittered.

Aria paused her reading.

"It's rum raisin with walnuts!"

The book slammed shut.

"Alright, but if you start getting on my nerves, I swear I'm gonna kick you right outta this tree. Got it?" Aria threatened, finally staring down at her sister's adorable pout. When the younger girl nodded, she placed her book down upon a nearby branch, hooked her feet in between two forked limbs, and swung down to face her sister head on, albeit, upside down.

"Hi!" Sonata giggled, finding the image before her rather amusing.

"Hello," Aria deadpanned. "How did you know I liked rum raisin?"

"I didn't," Sonata shrugged. "I just asked the guy to give me whatever all the old people liked, and he handed me this."

The older Siren grimaced, grabbed both of the ice cream cones out of her sister's hands, and curled herself up, disappearing back into the tree's branches.

Aria had already tucked into her ice cream cone before the youngest Siren's incessant whining began again. Rolling her eyes, she shoved both cones in between the forked branches for the time being, and placed her feet one more time.

"Alright, alright ya big baby! Hold on," she sighed, swinging down again, and grabbing Sonata by the arms. She attempted to hoist her up high enough so that she might cling onto a low branch, a feat which, in hindsight, she should have known would prove to be more difficult than it appeared.

"Ho-ho boy, Sonata! You're gonna lay off of Sammy's for the next two months if we end up making it that long, you hear me?"

"But, Adagio said eating that stuff doesn't do anything!" the younger girl cried sounding slightly offended.

"She said it won't prolong your life or replenish your essence, not that it won't settle right in your big—"

"Ah! I think I got it!" Sonata exclaimed, finally latching onto a lower branch and hoisting herself up.

Panting in exhaustion, her face gone a deep purple, Aria scraped herself back onto her high limb, and collapsed. She had barely caught her breath when Sonata saddled in beside her, shoving her spindly frame somewhere off to the side. When Aria finally managed to sit up straight, she grimaced at the younger girl who had already made it halfway into her ice cream cone. She held out Aria's for her to take, wearing the most pleasant of smiles. Snatching the thing from her hand, the elder Siren took one sizeable bite out of it, and hunkered back against the branch where her book awaited her.

The two ate in silence, Aria reading, and Sonata daydreaming, her legs dangling about in the air below them. For a while, it was peaceful, and the elder girl felt her spirits lifting into a more amicable place. Of course, one could never hope for such serenity to last for very long around the likes of Sonata.

"Hey Ari?"

"Yea?" she replied, taking another bite of ice cream.

Sonata hesitated for a moment.

"Something weird's going on, isn't it?"

"Always," the older girl sighed, flipping a page in her book.

"Why are you being so nice to us?" the younger girl asked, leaning forward.

"I already explained this to Adagio, so please—"

"Tell me!" Sonata blurted.

Aria felt the beginnings of fatigue settling in.

"Sonata, what did I tell you about bothering me while we were up here?"

"Okay, fine. Don't tell me. I already know it's because of what Adagio said. I know it's cause you think this is all your fault, because of that time dude's wife. Dagi thinks it's her fault, too, even though she won't say it out loud anymore," Sonata stated. "But you two don't have to feel that way, Ari. We can figure it all out better together!"

Sonata could be sweet; really, she could. Too bad such dispositions rarely proved effective on Aria, and while in some cases, the youngest Siren might have been able to successfully blunder her way into sounding convincing, now was most certainly not proving to be one of those times. Sighing heavily and popping the last bits of cone into her mouth, Aria again set herself to reading, and ignoring the irritating, blue source of noise.

Sonata seemed to take the hint at first, as she turned back around to face the fair, pouting to herself whilst her legs kicked to and fro. Reading her book, Aria missed the point at which that frown slowly turned into a smile, and then surprisingly, a soft chuckle.

Perking up at the misplaced sound, Aria cocked an eyebrow and stared.

"What?"

The younger girl turned upon her, biting her lip to keep from giggling.

"Remember back when we were living in New York, and that guy you always used to spend so much time with... What was his name? Dustin?"

Aria immediately frowned, disliking where this was headed.

"Remember when the Depression hit, and he ended up taking off with your stars and your bootlegger friend?"

"Sonata, what is your point?" Aria groaned, rubbing her temples as she tried to stave off the sting of horrible memories.

"Well, remember how you got real sick and weak after? You couldn't stand up or get out of bed, and we had to sing the healing incantations for you every night, and Dagi told me I wasn't allowed to leave you alone. But we ended up having a really good time anyway, right? I brought in the chess, and the record player, and the slingshot, and we—"

"Put up the photos of all the mortals we knew all over the room, and shot at them," Aria chuckled, unable to contain herself.

"Yea! And all the rotten ones were a hundred points!" Sonata guffawed.

"Damn near hit Dustin and that mole-faced, Millie, ten times each," the elder girl snickered.

"Broke a couple windows, too. Dagi didn't like that too much." Sonata tapped at her lip, thoughtfully. "But remember how by the end of that month you were up and about again? And your stars ended up coming back to you, anyway!"

"Only cause I had the cheesepuff enchant them for me like forever ago," Aria mentioned absent-mindedly. "I hope those two fell into the Hudson trying to run off with them."

Sonata giggled at this, lost in her own nostalgic reverie. For once, the sound had a pleasant effect on Aria. At that moment, things seemed a little brighter.

"Still, I don't think any of that would've worked out so good if we weren't getting through it together," the younger girl chirped, her legs kicking back and forth again. "Do you?"

Aria said nothing.

Sonata was right in this instance. Of course, this wasn't something that the older Siren would ever willingly admit to the girl's face, but even still, the tale made her think. Maybe she should forget about it all, throw away her personal guilt and conviction, and extend her hand for the help she somehow had forgotten was available to her this entire time.

Her eyes dimmed.

Then again, she didn't want anyone else to get hurt or to suffer anymore because of her actions. It would only be doing her sisters and Cookie a disservice if she were to drag any of them into problems that they didn't create with a foe as dangerous as Starshot. No, as much as she wanted the truth to not be what it was, she had to admit that her ideas were sound, and dare she say, necessary.

"Yea, you're right," Aria lied.

Passing a stern gaze Sonata's way, without a word, she reached into her pocket, and fished around for a few seconds. When her hand reappeared, it was holding a small, sealed envelope. Upon this envelope was written the name "Cookie". Holding the item out for Sonata to take, the younger girl grasped it, and stared at it in confusion.

"Remember that second thing I needed you to do for me?" Aria began quietly. Sonata nodded. "I need you to take that to Cookie's shop later before you head home. You don't have to say much to her. Just give her the envelope, tell her it's from me, and leave."

"Okay. I can do that," Sonata replied with a nod. She passed a curious gaze Aria's way. "W...what's in it?"

The elder girl smirked. Sonata of all beings should have known better than to ask her such a question.

Looking up at the dimming light in the sky, Aria wondered just how long they had been there. Deciding that now would be a good time to leave, she clasped her book firmly between her teeth, grabbed hold of the branch she was sitting upon, and nimbly swung down onto the ground. Once her feet were safely planted upon earth, she removed the book from her mouth, and called up to Sonata who was looking rather apprehensive.

"Let's find Adagio and get outta here."

"Uhhh, Ari?" Sonata stammered just as the older Siren had turned to leave. Aria halted.

"What?" she sighed, already knowing what was coming.

"I uhh... I can't get down."

—-

A few bruises later, she, Adagio, and Sonata had exited the fairgrounds, and turned to head toward home. Adagio, too preoccupied with keeping ten paces ahead of the two, as usual, never noticed them both chatting quietly behind her back.

"You should probably go now, Sonata," Aria urged, nudging her in the shoulder. "You remember what I told you?"

The youngest girl nodded obediently, still wearing a worried expression.

A profound feeling of affection cuffed Aria in the chest, and looking at her sister's face suddenly became the hardest thing in the world to do. As endless memories flashed across her mind, she felt herself being drawn into a dangerous place, a place where she, again, was urged to second guess herself. Shaking her head free of these emotions, she forced a smile, and nudged the girl once more.

"Stop worrying so much. Geez," she snickered. "What were you gonna make for dinner?"

It seemed an odd question at first, but perhaps it would work to get Sonata's mind off of the things that didn't concern her. Plus, maybe this information could be used to her benefit later on.

Sonata shrugged.

"Eh. Spaghetti and meatsauce," she hummed forlornly. "You think you can get some noodles, and start on it for me? Also, can you cut up some carrots? I put a few of 'em in the sauce. Makes it a little sweeter."

"Ahhh," Aria chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "Yea, I can do that. Now get the hell outta here before Adagio notices, will ya?"

The youngest Siren's aura seemed to brighten just slightly. Giving her sister a nod, she quietly turned to head down a perpendicular side street.

Aria's hand shot out, grabbing her arm, and jolting the younger Siren backward. Turning around to see what was the matter, Sonata's eyes locked with her sister's, and for a second, there they stood, studying one another.

"Sonata..." Aria began, chewing upon her lip, not quite knowing how to say what it was she wanted to.

"Yea?" the younger girl whispered, her face full of unsuspecting innocence.

"I..." the softness that had collected around the older girl's eyes quickly disappeared. She shook her head free of the things that deterred her, and gave Sonata's hand one more squeeze. "See you at home. And don't take too long. I'm not gonna cook the whole damn thing for you, got it?"

Sonata snickered, covering her mouth so that Adagio couldn't hear. Nodding her head once again, she turned and scampered away. Aria watched her go until she disappeared around the corner. Taking a deep breath, staving off the funny feelings in her chest, she now turned her sights upon her eldest sister.

"Hey, Adagio," she snickered, running forward, edging up too close to the other girl for comfort. Her grin only widened when Adagio grimaced and shoved her away.

"What is it?" Looking around, for the first time, Adagio noticed that Sonata was nowhere to be found. "Where the hell is Sonata?"

"Oh, you know. Groceries, stray puppy, someone jingling their keys, the usual," Aria sighed, waving the matter off with a hand. "Anyway, she's making spaghetti when she gets back, and she needs you to go get the noodles, and cut up some of those carrots in the fridge."

Adagio looked as if she'd just been slapped in the face.

"Me? I most certainly will not!" she protested, flipping a curl over her shoulder. "Why can't you just do it? You do that kind of thing all the time!"

"Because," Aria thought about it for a second. "Well, because I don't feel like it, and Sonata said if she eats anything else not homemade today, she's gonna barf again."

The dour girl shrugged.

"You know Sonata. The girl's gotta cook when she's gotta cook!" She slapped Adagio briskly on the back, making her cough. "Besides, they're just noodles and carrots. It'll be good practice for you!"

"But I..."

Not waiting around for the older girl to finish her response, Aria bolted forward, and headed beyond hearing distance in the direction of home.

—-

Night had descended upon them, and with it a heavy feeling of expectation. Both Aria and Adagio could feel it when they parted ways earlier on, but only Aria had known why.

The tub's running water began to heat the air. As she gazed upon herself in the bathroom mirror, Aria tried to work up enough energy to do what it was she needed to do. Time passed her by as she stood there, staring, waiting, taking a sip every now and then from a glass of unidentifiable liquid that made her wish she hadn't ended up at Bubbles the evening prior.

"Seas. Dazzle was right. What am I doing? Do I even eat solids anymore?" she drawled, pouring the rest of the liquid down the sink drain. "D'ah welp. Too late to worry about it now."

Having sufficiently annoyed herself, the feeling was only heightened when she heard the front door open and slam shut.

Shit. She had waited too long. Adagio had returned from the store already though, to be fair, anyone who knew Adagio would have also assumed that a trip to the supermarket for her would have easily transformed into a dramatic, two and a half hour long affair.

Thinking quickly, Aria grit her teeth, and prepared to venture downstairs where her sister was now doing sacrilegious things to a pack of carrots, no doubt. She rang the shivers out of her hands took a deep breath, turned to collect her jacket from where it sat upon the toilet lid, and bolted out of the door.

—-

There were four knives, all of them looking like an array of gaudy, medieval weaponry as far as Adagio was concerned. Her hand hovered over them all where they lay upon a clean kitchen dishrag, and almost immediately recoiled. How would she know whether she made the right choice? What if she did this all wrong, and Sonata and Aria didn't let her hear the end of it for the next month? For a moment, her ruby eyes glistened with apprehension... but only for a moment.

"Oh, for pete's sake, Adagio, just pick up a knife, and cut," she scolded herself. Odds were they wouldn't even live long enough for her sisters to think of any really good cracks anyway. So, jokes on them.

Grabbing up a rather long knife with a strange double point on its tip, Adagio spun around, and tossed the bag of carrots she had been holding onto the counter. After tearing it open and spilling half of its contents onto the floor, she placed one, measly looking carrot stalk upon the chopping board, raised the knife, and froze.

What the hell had gotten into her? It was a carrot for crying out loud. Surely, in the span of her life, she had wielded far more dangerous objects against far more livelier prey than this half week-old, knobby root.

Taking a deep breath, she slowly brought the blade down toward the chopping board.

"Did you rinse those?" Aria yelled, jumping down from the bottom step, nearly making her sister slice off her own finger.

"Are you insane?" Adagio screeched. "I am handling a very delicate instrument, here! I nearly turned my hand into... into shredded cabbage!"

Aria rolled her eyes, and waved these clearly exaggerated words off. She moved past her sister, grabbing the carrots in her wake. Carelessly plopping her jacket onto the oddly arrayed row of three knives, she moved toward the sink to give the bunch of veggies a good rinse.

"Always wash your ingredients. Some of this stuff's still got dirt on it... amongst other things."

When she turned around, Adagio was scowling at her.

"Do you want to do this yourself or not? If not, then leave me alone!"

Aria chuckled, and walked back over to plop the carrots back down upon the workstation.

"I'm here for moral support," she muttered, hoisting herself up onto the counter and urging her sister on. "Go ahead!"

"Hmph. Moral support from Aria Blaze," Adagio grumbled, aiming her knife again. "Right up there in competition for world's worst ideas, next to sliceable peanut butter."

Again bringing the knife down upon the carrot, she was halted by a very deliberate cough coming from the younger girl's throat.

"What. Is it. Now?" she growled.

"You should just use the paring knife. That tomato knife you've got there is gonna suck. Plus, you're gonna fuck up the tomato knife."

"Paring knife, of course!" Adagio exclaimed, throwing her hands into the air, and accidentally shaving off a few bits of Aria's fringe.

"Watch it!" Aria protested as her sister turned about, slammed the tomato knife down upon the dishrag, and grabbed the next closest blade to her hand.

"Listen, what is it that you really want, Aria? I'm busy." The eldest Siren sniffed the air next to her sister. "And I don't have time for any of your post-evening whiskey antics, alright?"

"Oh, nothing," Aria shrugged. "Just wanted to tell you to stay outta the bathroom for a bit."

Adagio placed her knife down, and passed the girl a suspicious glare.

"Why?"

"Cause I'm gonna try one of those weird things that you're always doing with the smoke, and the candles, and the horror movie chanting."

"You mean a bath?" Adagio deadpanned.

"Yea, that," the younger girl chuckled, amused by the sight of her sister getting more and more irritated. "It seems like it might be nice, so I figured, eh. Oughta try it before I can't, you know?"

"I don't see why that means I have to stay out. It's not like you've got anything on you that I haven't already seen," Adagio muttered, aiming her knife again.

"Spirits, Adagio, can you stop acting like a freaking Ma for even one second? I'm feeling pretty good today, and it just seems like you've been going out of your way to make me miserable, all because that's what you're used to. Why can't I be happy sometimes, too?" She slid closer to her sister and pointed a finger at her nose. "I'm gonna take a bath, and I'm gonna scrub my feet with that stupid sea sponge thing you love so much, and I'm gonna use like half of your oil, and it's gonna be fucking glorious, you hear me?"

Adagio sighed, and rolled her eyes, quite exasperated with the girl's rambling.

"Yes, yes, and I'm very happy for you and all of the newly found craps you give now that we're almost certainly doomed. I'm sure knowing that just sets the mood, doesn't it? Impending doom, scented candles, they're pretty much the same thing for you, aren't they?" She shooed her away with a hand. "Now, run along, go take your amazing bath, make cherubs sing and doves cry, or whatnot. Just leave me alone so that I can get through at least one carrot, alright?"

A pause.

"Do not scrub your ogrish feet with my sponge."

Aria snickered, raising her hands in defeat.

"Alright, alright. You win, Dazzle. I'm leaving!"

Hopping down from the counter, she moved to the place by the sink, and silently picked up her jacket. Pausing for a moment, she smiled down at the black lump in her hand, and carefully tucked it under one arm. Hesitantly, she turned to take a single step out of the kitchen and froze, her very breath catching in her throat. Her eyes slid to the side, and landed squarely upon Adagio's back. That horrible feeling in the pit of her chest had returned, and for a moment, she thought she might lose her nerve. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself calm once more, and then threw caution to the wind, doing something neither of them could have ever predicted.

A pair of rosy arms slid around Adagio's frame from behind, wrapped themselves on the perfect curve of her waist, and held on tight. Adagio gasped, every muscle in her body freezing when the heady scent of Aria's hair, something akin to sandalwood and vanilla, floated across her shoulder where the younger Siren's head now rested. The knife in her hand went clattering down upon the counter.

Not a word was said between them as what seemed like an eternity passed. Adagio's hand, though shaking, somehow found the strength to raise itself to her belly where Aria's arms were clenched. At first, she thought that perhaps she might push them away and scold the girl about her exhaustingly odd behavior, but when her hand arrived at the younger Siren's fingertips, it instead grazed them gently. Reaching backward with her other palm, the elder Siren tentatively stroked the girl's rosy cheek. She hadn't the mettle to look, but beneath her fingers, she could still feel her smile at the touch. The air had become even heavier by the time the younger girl decided to let her go. Unable to meet each other's eyes, they both stood there, stark still for a few seconds...

And then things went on. Adagio's knife was lifted, and slowly she began to cut. Aria turned, and headed toward the stairs.

"That's not the paring knife, either," she murmured, pausing in the middle of the stairwell. When Adagio looked up into the younger girl's eyes, she found something unreadable there: the inkling of a smile, and... something else. Shrugging it off when the girl finally disappeared up the stairs and could be heard closing the bathroom door, Adagio continued to chop in silence. A small smile had decided to grace her face at some point between Aria's embrace and that moment.

And then it fell away. Her chopping halted, and her eyes went dark. Dropping the knife, she turned to face the locked medicine cabinet on the other side of the kitchen. Racing across the room, not wanting to waste time with pulling a stool over, she leapt up, grabbed the handle, and tugged.

A sigh of relief escaped her when she discovered the thing was still locked tight. Patting her sides down, she heard the comforting jingle of keys in her sweater pocket. Laughing at herself for having worried, she returned to her station, and continued to chop.

They were only carrots, but cutting them up still felt like daunting work. About ten minutes had passed since Aria had left the room, and she was still cutting. Not only this, but her hands had begun to ache.

"Damn this thing," Adagio grumbled, dropping the blade and ringing her hands out. She hissed when a stinging jolt ran up the wrist of her chopping hand. "Dammit!"

Frowning to herself, she turned to go fetch the paring knife that Aria had suggested. Perhaps that would work better. Placing the used knife down beside the other two, her hand hovered over the only fresh one left, a smaller blade that looked as if it might be a little easier to handle.

"This one has to be it," she said to herself, turning again to bare down upon the counter. The sting in her wrist had become quite distracting, and for some reason, the sensation only grew as she gripped the blade's handle once more.

Hovering the knife over her second—yes, second—carrot, she was startled when yet another shock traveled up her other wrist.

"Ow!" she cried in confusion, shaking the ache out. "I swear, I'm going to throttle those girls the instant that I—"

She paused...

Then she eyed both of her hands...

Placing the knife down, she cocked her head curiously to the side, and raised her palms up. Concentrating on the sensations in her wrists, her arms began to shake as, by and by, the stinging began to turn into a deep burning. Her eyes went wide as a thought struck her.

Spinning around to face the cutting knives upon the dishrag, she counted them out loud, almost as if she wanted to make sure that the blasphemous thing she was thinking was not true.

"One, two..."

That was the correct number, yes? She had started out with three, hadn't she? Or had it been three upon the dishrag, one in hand?

Her entire body began to tremble as dreadful realization descended upon her. She recalled Aria moving toward the sink, dropping her jacket upon those knives, and tucking it strangely beneath her arm when she had left the room. The pain in her wrists grew.

"A—ri—a?" she croaked looking upward in the direction of the second floor. She had wanted the name to come out as a call. The sound merely died upon her tongue, a weak, deflated whimper.

Author's Note

Hmm. So, yea. This happened.

If you have been feeling like these last couple of chapters have been eerily chill and somewhat uneventful, to the point where it feels like something isn't right... then you are absolutely correct. If you couldn't already tell by all the heavy context clues in this chapter, you should probably start girding your loins for the next one right now. I mean it! GIRD THEM.

Alright, don't say that I didn't warn you.

To Play the Card

She felt the room begin to spin before her legs took off into a full sprint.

"Aria!" she managed to scream this time, tripping over her feet to scramble up the stairs. Pulling herself up by the banister, the eldest Siren raced toward the bathroom door, and twisted the knob—Locked. If she had had any time for hindsight, this would probably have been expected.

Beyond the door, she could still hear the tap running, and the blaring of a low, droning radio. The smell of cigarette smoke seeped out from behind the threshold.

"No no no no. Aria, open this door!" she shrieked, banging upon the thing. The length of her arms between her wrist and elbow now felt on fire, and in spite of the apparent fury in her voice, she couldn't help but be filled completely with panic and terror.

Thinking quickly, she backed up toward the opposite wall and ran forward, throwing herself against the wood. The door held fast as she sank down to the floor, gritting her teeth, and clutching her arm in pain. Surely, a woman such as herself was not cut out for this type of thing.

"Please!" she begged, her nails digging into the wood before she realized that simply attempting to annoy Aria into a response would probably not work in her favor. Beating her fists against the door, she huddled into a frantic heap when she received no reply. Shooting up to her knees, she slapped her aching palms against her cheeks in a desperate attempt to calm herself down.

"Alright. Alright," she chanted, pretending to regain some dregs of composure. "Hairpin."

Racing off quickly toward her room, she entered, and threw her dresser apart, digging about in her jewelry boxes and drawers for the small, metal clips she sought after. Dropping half of them as she made her way back to the bathroom door, she then knelt down, bent one of the pins into shape with her teeth, and hovered it before the knob, only to discover, to her utmost dismay, that the keyhole had been jammed. Somehow, Aria had managed to fill the thing with super glue, probably in anticipation of this exact circumstance.

"Dammit, Aria!" Adagio shrilled, a distinctly Sirenesque growl of frustration escaping from the pit of her gut—an occurrence quite rare for her in her human form.

Breaking about three more pins against the mound of dried, compacted goop before giving up, she again rose to her feet, and this time, moved to the rear of the door to check the screws upon its hinges. Expectedly, they had also all been jammed up with glue so that one could not unscrew them from the back. She threw herself against the door once more, not knowing what else to try. It didn't take long for her to become dizzy, little headway having been made through the sturdy, well-built frame. Damn this house's dependable, old school craftsmanship.

Sweat dripped down her forehead. Her sweater had ripped on the arm, and her hair was now a disheveled mess. The pain coursing through her became too much to bear, and this in turn made her heart ache for her sister. The only thing more tragic than being able to share in the experience of what the younger girl was feeling was knowing how accustomed she had become to such things, how nonchalant she had reacted about her entire plan, even mere moments before...

How stupid could she have possibly been? How could she have allowed Aria to run circles around her so efficiently, and in what was quite possibly the absolute simplest of ways?

'Why can't I be happy sometimes too?' she had told her. What a crock. If there was anything at all to be learned from Aria's mannerisms, it was that whatever visibly filled the girl with mirth was usually something worth one’s very, very close attention. For Adagio to say she had screwed up was an understatement. Even still, she had to acknowledge that she had been granted a chance for redemption; for it was a fact that Aria was still alive. Her energy had dipped tremendously but had yet to dissipate. Her sister's essence still coursed through her own veins, weak, fading, but still present. There was still time.

Stumbling backward, and nearly falling over onto her rear, Adagio raised her hands, and slapped her palms against her cheeks once again. If there was ever a moment that required her particular brand of cunning, this was most certainly it.

“I'm not... I'm not working efficiently here,” she panted to herself, bending over to brace upon her knees. Wiping the sweat from her brow, she allowed her eyes to scan the length of the door, trying her best to spot a solution to her dire problem. “What am I missing?”

Her eyes fell upon the doorlock, specifically the scuffed wood of the threshold that surrounded it. Brow furrowing, head nodding with increasing interest, she turned to race downstairs to fetch the biggest, strongest, and sharpest thing they had on hand. She returned with the meat cleaver.

Eyeing the scuffed part of the threshold, Adagio aimed, lifted the blade above her head, and brought it down hard. It stuck fast within the wood, and when she rocked it back and forth, a few large splinters broke loose. The metal of the lock now came into view from the side of the scuff.

“Yes!” she exclaimed, raising the knife again. At this rate, the task would take a long time, probably too long, but that was something she couldn't allow herself to consider at the moment. Aria’s heart was still beating. She could still feel her, and so, she must continue to try.

Then, a blessing was bestowed upon her: At that very moment, Adagio heard the front door unlock and open. A pair of clumsy feet could be heard shuffling in through the door.

"Adagio?" Sonata's wavering, high-pitched voice called from downstairs. "Adagio, is someone hurt? My arms are—"

"Sonata, you bring those legs up here right now! Move it!" the elder girl crowed, continuing to chop at the wood around the lock. She could hear the younger girl's footsteps racing up the stairs without hesitation, and when Sonata had finally arrived, watched as she froze with fright taking in the sight that lay before her.

"Adagio?" the other girl stammered, fear slowly consuming her. "What are you—"

"Aria's in there! Get this damn door down!" The elder girl screamed, giving the door another blow with the cleaver. She watched as Sonata's expression fell into one of despair as complete understanding descended upon her. For a moment, she remained frozen to her spot.

"Sonata, we don't have time for this!" Adagio exclaimed, finally pulling her toward the door.

Half dazed and on the brink of tears, the younger girl stumbled forward, lifted her leg, and kicked it straight, striking the door with such a force that the wall itself shook. A few more splinters tumbled loose around the lock.

That was when the scent hit them, a sting to the senses so striking that it pinched the youngest Siren right in the sinuses, setting her to sneezing. Turning toward Adagio, Sonata watched as the older girl fanned a hand in front of her flared nostrils, a look of utter confusion upon her face. When she witnessed a thick wave of pungent green begin to seep out from beneath the doorway, her brow creased.

"What the hell is that?" Adagio murmured, trying to shake the smell out of her nose. Her ruby eyes went wide with realization just in time to feel her entire body go weak. Turning to meet Sonata’s gaze, she watched as the younger girl’s knock-knees buckled whilst she reached up to clutch at her own chest in agony.

Get the door open," Adagio gasped. "Do it now, before—"

There was a deafening crash from within, and the sound of sloshing water spilling out onto the floor. The radio was suddenly silenced as slick skin and solid bone could be heard slipping and knocking against the sides of the tub, the walls. Two deafening crashes, and the sound of falling glass stunned Sonata and Adagio into silence.

"A-Aria?" Sonata stammered from behind her shaking hands, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Trying to ignore the horrific din coming from within and the dizzying pain exploding in the core of her chest, Sonata pinched her nose, lifted her leg again, and kicked. This time most of the lock came loose save for its very edge.

"Yes!" Adagio yelped, a tinge of hope entering her tone. "One more ti—"

Aria's weakened, wavering voice echoed from within the bathroom for only a moment before it ceased abruptly. That ripping pain struck both Adagio and Sonata in the chest once more as weakness overtook them, sending them both crashing down to the floor. Sprawled out upon the carpet, the eldest girl shook the daze out of her head, and gazed toward her arms and legs now strewn about like a ragdoll's. She recalled these sensations.

"She's trying to wield her magic," Adagio rasped, forcing herself onto her hands and knees as Sonata writhed about on the floor beside her. Every horrid implication of this revelation was now made clear to them both.

Crawling back over toward the door upon her hands and knees, Adagio gripped the handle, and with as much might as she could muster, began to shake the thing back and forth, hoping it would soon separate the last flecks of splintered wood from around the lock. A sound, low and muffled, could barely be heard seeping out through the cracks, a raspy laugh, the faint glimmer of gold.

"Get away! Don't you...dare...touch her!" she called, wheezing every last syllable as, slowly, the remaining wood finally began to pull apart. It would seem that nothing could deter her from her struggle, not even Sonata crawling to her side in order to hold her back with what little strength she had left.

"Adagio, we can't," the youngest girl cried in exhaustion. "There's nothing in us to... to sing with!"

Shoving her away, the elder girl passed her a defiant glare, and continued her struggle against the door lock.

"We can!" she barked through her agony, sweat dripping from her brow. "Once we get inside, he is as much a threat to us as he is to her. It will work, Sonata. It has to! We just have to get in!"

With this exclamation, the base wood around the lock cracked a little more, and a bigger sliver of light began to peek through. As it did, Adagio felt her strength returning. Not only that, but a feeling, horribly belabored, but still old, delicious, and powerful, began to grow in the depths of her chest. A deeper warmth exploded behind her already burning ribcage, and extended out toward her shaking fingertips. For the first time in months, she saw red, a red that reflected the rage now encapsulating every corner of her mind. A hum was born somewhere in the pit of her abdomen. Wordless and mostly formless, she attempted to wrap her mind and spirit around it, tried to give her anger life. In an instant, Sonata had joined her, heaving and struggling to maintain and control the power that now waxed and waned within her as well. The bolt cracked its pit within the doorframe. A furious growling erupted from out of the eldest Siren's belly.

"I swear by the Seas, Starshot, I'll make you watch yourself carve out your own liver!" she barked as the lock finally broke free.

Even as the door shot open, and the two sisters barged forward, that hypnotizing, harmonizing hum had already begun emanating up from their cores. Their mouths opened as they took deep breaths, prepared to unleash their fury before they had ever even entered the room.

Then came a sudden, golden flash of light.

—-

There was no time for tears or regret. She had a belly full of fire, both literally and figuratively, and now the moment for all this to end had come.

Aria locked the bathroom door behind her, tossed her rolled jacket onto the toilet seat, and plopped her half-finished pack of cigarettes onto the sink next to a small tube of superglue. Reaching over toward the radio that sat next to these items, she switched it on, and promptly turned the volume up. The music that filled the room was low, slow, and rumbling, something to suit the mood.

"Alright, ya sick fuck. I hope you get a kick out of this," she growled, her gaze darting about in the direction of the ceiling.

Without any hesitation, she tore off her clothing down to the underwear, and took a moment to light up a cigarette when she felt her hands beginning to shake just a tad too much. Again, she reminded herself: It was too late for nerves.

Sitting upon the edge of the tub, she reached her fingers into the water, and allowed her hand to trail back and forth within the liquid. It was warm, steaming even. That was good. It would quicken the entire, dreadful process.

Upon realizing that there was nothing else left to prepare, she froze. At last, it was time.

Taking a deep breath, she reached out toward her black jacket, drew it toward her feet, and uncoiled the thing. Her unsteady fingers clinked against its metal buttons and zippers until, finally, something else shiny, metallic, and sharp went clattering onto the tiles.

Aria's eyes glued themselves upon the blade that lay at her feet. Her toes recoiled away from the object, betraying her growing apprehension. Clearly, she had not had enough to drink, but that was something which could no longer be helped.

Gulping nothing but dryness, she reached down, and picked the thing up, clenching it tightly within her fist. Eyes never wavering from its tip, she carefully slid herself backward into the warm tub water. The liquid was welcoming, and surprisingly worked to take the edge off of her unsettled nerves. It wasn’t too much of a reach to suppose that something in her couldn't help but feel lulled by the natural sensation of water surrounding her.

Resting her cigarette upon the edge of the tub, far enough away from her arms so that it mightn't get wet, she leaned herself back into the water until completely submerged from head to toe, and then quickly drew herself out once more. The bit of alcohol coursing through her system worked with the heat to make everything feel soft and tingly. Even her eyes allowed a fuzzy halo around whatever she happened to look upon in the bright, bathroom light. For a moment things actually seemed rather pleasant… but only for a moment. Maybe under drastically differing circumstances she might have been able to enjoy this whole "bath" thing a little bit more.

Once again, she felt the need to remind herself: It was far too late for regrets.

Lazily picking up her cigarette again, she popped it between her lips, and contemplated the blade in her left hand. It was not lost on her that this was roughly the circumstance in which Starshot had probably hoped she eventually found herself over a month ago. She chuckled, finding the notion ironic.

Taking a moment to shut her eyes, she breathed in deeply, and exhaled. With it, her eyes opened with fresh purpose, and she turned about in the tub to sit up straight. Bringing the blade over to rest point down upon her upturned wrist, she inhaled upon her cigarette, and released a thick plume of gray and white into the air about her.

Fighting off the mental images of her sisters that attempted to pierce through her resolve proved futile. Her purple eyes darted about the smoke as she was suddenly drawn into a sequence of visions she would have much rather avoided: Adagio's unruly hair in the mornings, the way she'd always pretend to be annoyed as a way to hide the fact that she was extremely protective and thoughtful, the way Sonata would always find a way to put things in perspective at the most unexpected but necessary of times, and how the girl was always happily obliged to put bacon in her pancakes and syrup on her bacon, even though Aria was usually a complete ass to her.

There went a pang of regret again, but this time, Aria let it fester. Hell, it would be one of the last actual things she would feel. Why not indulge?

How unfortunate to be an immortal about to end it all for good. One always says the life flashes before the eyes when they find themselves upon that dark threshold, but for someone like herself, it was more of a ten minute movie type of ordeal, all of it filled with images most unsuited for the task currently at hand.

Nevertheless, she allowed a smile to curl across her lips as she remembered that first night in the human realm, so long ago, huddled amongst a meager fire in a small, abandoned mud brick hut in the dead of winter. Those first few years were the hardest, lost in a strange, unforgiving land with little magic, and ruled by what, at the time, they had judged to be a plague of terribly ugly creatures. At first Aria thought the fighting and finger pointing would never cease. Come to think of it, it very much reminded her of what they had gone through after losing their powers earlier this very year.

She chuckled to herself again as she bore down upon her wrist with the blade, just enough to feel a familiar sting.

People threw around accusations of witchcraft like moldy bread crumbs for the birds back then. The sisters were forced to learn quickly in that era, moving from town to town, usually because of something silly Sonata would say that would bring them dangerously close to the burning stake or the executioner's axe about once every couple of months or so. They would all get the hang of how things worked, eventually, and how a few gold coins could take one a long way in terms of power and forgiveness, how just as it was in Equestria, feminine charm and wit used properly could work very efficiently to put one on the seat of kings. Sure, there had been times when, in desperation, they might have done things that they weren't necessarily proud of in order to maintain their power and freedom, but time was a funny thing, indeed. It dulled pain, and tended to do it with wisdom. An immortal born a female, like she was, should know how time loved to continuously roll on, and yet, stay the same. A girl child was still a girl child, just as she was in Equestria, and just as she was a thousand years ago in the human world, and results were still results, as Adagio would put it. One sometimes had to use the tools one was given to get by, and that was what they had done. However, the nature of their powers always vindicated them in the end, anyway. Every song was a taste of revenge for the meaningless shackles their worlds placed upon them, and more often than not, the revenge was very, very sweet.

Regardless, thinking upon the entire thing that was her life, as she was prone to do in these situations, Aria continued to struggle over the question of whether she would be the same and do the same if she had been given the choice, if she were able to try it all as exactly what she wanted to be. Failing to find an answer, she allowed the question to fall out of her mind.

Leaving England on a ship bound for Spain five hundred years ago had been an act of acceptance if anything, a show of acknowledgment that they had settled enough into this realm to thoroughly explore it, perhaps attempt to better manipulate it. By then, they had all long since acquired their tastes, and learned their likes and dislikes about this place. But who could have imagined that it would be Sonata who first suggested that Aria should pick up a guitar?

"'It would seem to suit you quite well somehow,’" the younger girl had told her, that typical, dopish expression smeared across her face. "'Wouldn't you agree?'"

Of course Aria had met this suggestion with utmost protestation, as usual, and even then, sweet Sonata had allowed her harsh words to simply roll off her back. The girl could never stay angry with her for long. At least she had felt some form of vindication when Aria finally bought one of the damned instruments for herself, and with increasing enthusiasm, learned to play. The smile she had given her at the time was a memorable one; it was only now that Aria could admit to herself that she would miss it.

A ruby droplet dotted the very edge of the blade.

She remembered the year in Paris when Adagio had sung opera, and was slated to perform as a character with a soprano so clean and concise, it was immediately clear to all three sisters that Aria’s voice would have been a shoe-in for the part. Perhaps it was just Adagio’s luck that her sister with the flawless soprano was also terribly antisocial. Nevertheless, Aria supposed that it had been the eldest Siren's drive for perfectionism that finally allowed her to muster up the humility to come to her for pointers. They had stayed locked away in their chambers practically all week until she had gotten it right. The standing ovation on her opening night was tremendous. The bouquet of red roses Adagio had tossed to her from the stage was notably beautiful, not to mention satisfying.

A hiss escaped through the ruminating Siren's teeth as she dragged the knife downward against her flesh, releasing a stream of crimson. The pain made her cry out, and the cigarette dropped from between her lips, into the water. Its sibilation melded with hers into one long, frightening lament.

Gazing upon the red that freely flowed out of her to taint the clear water, she felt herself beginning to shake. Powerful waves of fear and regret hit her again, and she made sure to quickly shake them off. This wasn't her first time. She knew that these instinctive, last minute desires for self preservation were natural, and that it was best to just ignore them. In a moment, they would begin to fade right along with everything else. She shoved her wounded hand below the water's surface so that she wouldn't have to look at it for the time being.

Their return to London had been rather unceremonious. Huddled together amongst their riches, fineries, and delectable mortal meals seemed a simple thing to do amongst the grimness of Victoria's reign. It was a time that Aria had been particularly fond of in the oddest of ways. Introversion no longer seemed a sin, dullness of character, a rather acceptable trait for the times somehow. She wasn't too ashamed to admit that she had moved through that grim age with relative ease.

The inevitable shift to America at the turn of the century was the renewing breath of fresh air that all three of them seemed to have needed. Things began to move faster then, and no matter how the times changed after that, both Adagio and Sonata met it all with grace and, dare she say, optimism. But her sisters had always moved through the ages in a similar fashion. In a blink, corsets were exchanged for garter belts, cars for carriages, salons for nightclubs and jobs, and lovers equally so, and it went on and on. Yet, Aria had always failed to admit how difficult she had found it to keep up. Everywhere she went, people read her in exactly the same way: old fashioned, old souled, old, old, old, and what's worse, she'd never felt sorry for any of it. She'd never seen reason to change herself, to attempt to fit in with the times until it became unquestionably necessary. Even way back when her sisters had cut and bobbed their hair, as was the style of the day, Aria's locks had remained the way they had always been: long and flowing, ever antiquated and unchanging, just like herself. Looking back now, this particular quality of hers seemed to be her ultimate undoing. She would never miss an opportunity to tease or ridicule her sisters about their eagerness to watch the mortals and to emulate them, to take interest in every, silly, minute thing that they did, but like many of her aggressive reactions, it was easy to see now that it was just a defense technique, probably even jealousy. It became obvious that it was she who had been the weak one all along. It was she who had never learned how to properly and quickly adapt. It was she who, predictably, would grow weary of it all, and her unchanging self amongst it.

Her sisters would definitely be better off without her.

Images of Cirrus flashed across Aria’s mind as she forced herself to raise her blade out of the water. Then Dustin, that scallawag, appeared, and then the few others whom had somehow managed to penetrate that scarred over, beating husk in her chest, and for just a moment, her face showed a more appropriate age. Tired and worn, she remembered those visages through the ages, and how she had lived long enough to watch each and every one of them either drift away from her or grow old and wither to dust. This was yet another thing her sisters somehow seemed able to maneuver through with great dignity. Even goofy Sonata had always met the fickle and finite nature of the mortals with such profundity that it would make Aria wonder where she had learned to adapt to it so well, all the leaving and dying off of their few, sweet, beloved, finite things.

Her mind fell upon Cookie, and a deep, rattling sigh shook her. There was something comforting in the notion that she would never have to watch the woman fade away, or worse yet, the both of them inevitably grow distant. She would never have to end up like all of the others.

Pulling her unwounded wrist out of the ruddied water, Aria took a deep breath, lifted her blade with an increasingly unsteady grip, and again pressed it against her skin.

"Alright, Starshot," she scoffed, an unexpected grin spreading across her lips. "You and me... We're even now."

Looking around the room, she neither sensed nor did she smell anything out of the ordinary. Something in the back of her mind felt disappointed, but in the heat of the moment she dared not dwell on why. Mustering her mettle once more, she muffled the involuntary whimpers and gasps now escaping from her own throat, and quickly bore down upon her right arm.

She shrieked this time when the burning hit her, losing her grip, and accidentally dropping the blade onto the tub rim where it ricochet off, and landed upon the bathroom floor. Red splattered everywhere as the clanging of the metal hitting tile resounded throughout her now reeling head. Scrambling for the knife before she grew too weak to do so, she snatched it up, and immediately dunked both of her arms back into the warm water once again, hoping it would dull the pain, make the blood flow faster.

It took a while, but when she grew dazed enough, she finally admitted to herself that she was shaken, a little afraid. Her entire body trembled. Her chest heaved. Though her vision was dipping in and out, she forced herself to stay conscious. There were still no striking smells of note. Pity. And now she could hear a sound, a strange thumping echoing throughout the air. What was that noise?

"Aria, open this door! Please!"

Another smile broke through her pained, grief-stricken grimace. So, the cheesepuff had finally figured it out. Either that or, at some point downstairs, she had eventually developed the worst wrist cramps she’d probably ever felt in her entire existence.

"Thought I couldn't get one over on you, huh?" the fading Siren slurred to herself in her delirium. "Guess you ain't so smart after all, Dazzle."

She chuckled whilst listening to the distorted sound of her sister attempting to pick the bathroom lock, and subsequently discovering that it was filled up with superglue.

"Dammit, Aria!" the eldest Siren called from the hallway. The younger girl couldn't help but burst out into another weakened snicker at the sound of her sister growling with frustration.

Eyes trailing down toward the water, she saw that it had now gone so red that she could barely see through it. Her body was beginning to go pale. She imagined that perhaps it was sheer determination alone, and perhaps those last, little dregs of her Siren essence that continued to keep her aware. Her brow furrowed as her mostly numbed fingers edged about in the water to find the handle of the blade one last time. When they did, she clutched at it weakly.

"I suppose at this point, I can assume that this is what you wanted," she blubbered into the air to no one in particular. "So, in that case, I'll stop dragging things out..."

She faded off, her voice cracking with emotion at the last second. Forcing herself to sit up one last time, she gazed down at her own nicked and scarred abdomen, and ran a finger across the one notable gash upon her ribs, the one she had shown Cookie. Though the rhythm of her racing heart now echoed like a drum in her ears, beating in her chest so hard it hurt, she still managed to steady her mind and body just enough to line the blade up with that accursed mark upon her upper belly. Taking a deep breath, she gripped the handle with both hands, and braced herself.

The world went still.

It occurred to her in that fleeting moment that this was how she had regained her Sirenhood all those many lifetimes ago. It seemed almost fitting, poetic even, that it should also be the way in which she lost it.

Or maybe I'm gaining something else.

Her forehead creased at the thought, one she didn't quite understand amidst her daze. Without thinking, she closed her eyes. Moving of their own accord, her hands wrenched forward with all of their might, and...

She gasped once as the pain wracked her entire being. The sounds of the world died down, and in its place grew a ringing so loud that she wished she would hurry and let go of life just so that she might escape it. Briefly glancing upon the cracking wood on the edge of the doorframe, her eyes then rolled up into her head. Something hit her in the back, and she flinched before realizing it was her own failing body hitting the rear of the tub.

The world went black before the ringing finally began to fade away. Some semblance of satisfaction washed over her as she imagined that at least the fire of the time mage's rage would no longer be so hot with her gone. His guard would be lowered, even if it was just slightly. Adagio would be able to deal with him herself, then.

Her sisters' voices calling to her from beyond the door, even in their distress, brought her comfort. She had faith in them. Even if they resented her at first, surely they would come to see why she had done what she did. Surely, they would come to forgive her once they sat down to ponder upon it all one day in the future when they were free, perhaps even restored.

She smiled. The searing, crushing pain in her abdomen no longer hurt. Nothing hurt anymore, and as every sensation faded from her body, she couldn't help but know that now everything was going to be alright.

—-

Taking a deep breath, she gripped the handle with both hands, and braced herself.

The world went still.

Or maybe I'm gaining something else.

Something latched onto her wrist firmly before the blade could do anything worse than graze her. She became aware of a powerful odor beginning to surround her, one extremely rank, but also quite familiar. Her eyes shot open as realization hit her, and when they did, her half-lidded gaze locked with two, burning, golden eyes inset into a gray frame.

"You must think yourself quite clever," Starshot rasped in that grating tone of his, a simpering grin upon his face.

There was no time to think. Even still, in her haze, Aria managed to force in a deep breath, fill herself with as much power as she could manage—as the sound of Adagio and Sonata faltering away from the door came from the hallway—and let forth the beginnings of a melody just before being struck hard across the face by the wizard’s fist. Jarring pain was what silenced her. It would seem that the spirit of irony had a dark sense of humor.

The wood near the lock of the door was splintered and shook forward in a threatening way. She could hear her sisters, feel them calling to her through the source they all shared.

"Get away! Don't you...dare...hurt her!" came Adagio's muffled voice through the barely sealed threshold.

Ignoring this, and grabbing the strap upon her shoulder, the time mage dragged the weakened Siren out of the water. As he did so, his head shook, his hand moved about frantically, one minute gesturing wildly in the air, the next, running anxiously over his head whilst he mumbled to himself. Upon his right wrist was a solid black watch which his eyes would sporadically dart toward every few seconds or so.

"Six seconds until the vapid one bumbles over again,” the mage grumbled.

When Aria breathed deep to force something, anything, out of her throat, he drew her slender frame up into a magic halo of gold, and tossed her like a ragdoll against the wall, while at the same time never ceasing his odd rambling. He nodded in vindication when the sound of cracking wood could be heard coming from the door.

"Right. One minute left now," he mumbled under his breath, wide-eyed, high on adrenaline.

Aria screeched as she hit the towel rack, and sputtered when the force of her flying body shattered the bathroom mirror. Everything clattered and crashed about her. Blood red water splashed onto the white tiled floor. When the time mage was finally convinced that she had been sufficiently knocked senseless, he threw her down onto her back. Strangely, it took him a moment to regain his energy. A flickering spark could be seen coming from somewhere within his jacket lining. Ignoring this, he pulled a rather simple looking roll of gray duct tape from said lining, and tore some loose.

"For those "hard-to-fix" leaks it says," he panted, an almost jovial glint in his eye as his attentions were drawn back onto the suffering Siren now trying her best to inch away from him. "I suppose we'll find out soon enough, won't we?"

When Aria felt the tape plastering up her mouth, she panicked. However, flailing about, much less reaching up to claw and scratch at Starshot's face as he pinned her down, was completely out of the question. She was far too frail from blood loss, and growing weaker by the moment.

Pressing his knees into her thighs and his forearm into her throat, the wizard attempted to hold the delirious girl still. Another bang came from the doorway. The screaming on the other side of the door heightened into panic.

"Right. Twenty seconds," Starshot muttered, checking his watch, and then pulling a thick coil of bandages from his pocket. Leaning forward, it only worked to confuse the terrified Siren more when the mage spoke into her ear in what she could only assume was supposed to be his version of a soothing tone.

"Be still, little creature! Be still, I say, or you'll bleed out right here upon this filthy floor!"

Both exhaustion and confusion hit Aria like a brick, and she wasn't quite sure which one was culpable for finally making her go silent once and for all. The cracking and scratching at the door seemed little more than ambiance now, and even then it was overshadowed by the trembling sound of a fierce harmony beginning to seep through the air.

At the odd noise, Starshot's eyes went wide. His eyes darted toward his watch as he shook his head, and snatched up Aria's wrist into his grasp.

"What's all this, then? Dammit, the tile is amplifying them. Should have accounted for this," he stammered, haphazardly beginning to unravel the bandages. His attention was clearly drawn, and seeing her opening, Aria took the opportunity to muster all of her remaining energy into her legs to give the mage one, good kick to the lower stomach. However, as her leg shot out, he, completely unphased and unsurprised, dodged out of the way, grabbed the appendage, and twisted it at the hip until the Siren again went still.

“Listen, you. I’m on a predetermined schedule. So, if you think that you'll somehow do something to catch me off guard, then allow me to quite literally save you the time and energy by telling you that this would be impossible.”

He tossed Aria’s limp legs to the side carelessly, and busied himself with her arms once more.

Something at the back of the girl’s mind told her that the time mage’s words weren't quite what they seemed to be. However, too weak to process anything but the impending song of her sisters, and the blaring bathroom light hovering somewhere above her, she allowed these thoughts to fade away in lieu of conserving her energy.

Passing the wizard a wicked glare, or at least whatever sort of glare someone in her current predicament could muster, she let loose a sputtering laugh through the tape sealing her lips, mocking the mage when she saw how nervous he became when he touched her. Despite his supposedly precognitive plan, his eyes continued to dart between her, his watch, and the door where could be heard the ever growing sound of her furious sistren preparing to wail for his blood.

"Tricky," he grumbled to himself, more out of anxiousness than anything else. Shaking what he could of the Sirens’ wretched sound out of his ears, it was only by chance that Aria noticed the small, half perforated earplugs lodged inside each of them.

Starshot’s hands shook as he carelessly continued to wrap the bandages around Aria’s wrists, and it was only after a few seconds of this that his brow furrowed. Apparently, there was a problem.

Pausing briefly, he turned to check his watch once more, growled in fury, and without warning, wrenched the bandages from around the Siren’s arms. Aria yelped at the sting of it, and then fell into a weak, ridiculing chuckle as she watched him toss the bundle of wraps to the side. He, again, reached into his pocket, and when his hand reappeared, it was holding what looked to be a few small bits of wire and a tiny, blue gemstone. From his fingers hung a large, mechanical ring made of something resembling bronze. It seemed big enough to collar a large dog.

"Forget it," he hissed to himself, pressing the wire and gem between his lips for safe keeping as he bore down upon Aria again. She flailed, and then finally having lost all the amount of blood she could stand, began to convulse. The wizard’s eyes shot open wide.

"No, no, no!" he protested in vain, tapping her a few times in the face in a foolish attempt to stabilize her. Again, he tried to shake the growing, hissing Siren song out of his head with little success. It would be only a few moments now before the other two found their stride, and when they did, he'd be done for.

"Alright, Starshot. You've missed something obviously, but it's alright," he mumbled, staring Aria over. "You've... you've seen this before. It's the heart."

Taking a deep breath, he arched over Aria's writhing form, placed his hands over her chest, and pushed once, twice, three times. No effect.

The wood around the lock of the door splintered.

"Oh, dammit! That's it!" he hissed.

Having had quite enough of all this noise and confusion, the mage got to his feet, dropped the mechanical bits and bobs he was holding onto the sink side, and turned to face the entryway. Breathing deeply, he mustered up a golden glow around his clenched fists and waited.

"I swear by the Seas, Starshot, I'll make you watch yourself carve out your own liver!" Adagio barked as the doorlock finally broke free.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion, even without the aid of his magic. They were a terrifying sight, their eyes having gone all red, and when the eldest Siren trained hers upon him, they only seemed to glow hotter.

Adagio Dazzle. Somehow the countless images of her through his spell bubbles could not do her justice. The witch was still beautiful. Just as they had forced him to believe those many years ago. Even now she continued to capture his heart, much to his dismay. Those few stray notes of her song prodded about his ears, attempting to find something to latch onto. They were absorbed easily. Those old melodies, the ones he knew some part of him would forever crave, had barely begun to twist and clench onto his brain before he managed to knock himself hard in the side of the head, momentarily freeing his mind from their grasp. He could tell the song that was soon to come would be lovely, one of utmost power, and he detested them all for how much he longed for its beauty.

There was an intake of breath as Adagio's arms reached out toward him. Something rumbled in the Siren's chest, and her lips parted just as the time mage cocked his arm, and threw it forward, half full of rage and the other half all regret. The action surrounded both Adagio and Sonata in a sudden flash of golden light. When the glow had faded an instant later, Starshot stood before what appeared to be two living statues lost silently in their rage, completely frozen mid-stride. The smallest bit of gold still surrounded them as they stood within their temporary time prisons, eyes all aglow.

Collapsing onto the floor, shaking the haze out of his head and the lingering pre-melody out of his ears, Starshot again turned his attentions toward Aria. He sighed and rubbed his temples upon the realization that girl had already expired, her glimmering violet eyes, once sharp and full of life, now gone all dull and dark as they stared listlessly up at nothing.

"By Celestia," he scolded himself, rolling his eyes, and drawing open the side of his jacket. “Let me guess where you ruined the count this time. The acoustics carried the melody earlier than what could be perceived elsewhere, I blubbered about it for a good two seconds, tied the bandages loose, and thus they had to be redone, yes, Starshot? Does that cover it all, you grand fool?”

He sighed as if already knowing the answer to his own question. Again, taking a look at the lining of his jacket, upon closer inspection, the golden glow within was revealed to be coming from a small disc of light contained within the jacket's left breast. The glimmer was fading in and out, an aspect which seemed to put Starshot on edge.

"Oh, well. It isn't as much as I'd like, but it will have to do."

Rounding again upon Aria, he collected the Siren up into gold, extended his hands, took a deep breath, and began to roll his arms backward by the elbows. The glow grew brighter around her body as she moved, twitched, and flailed about in the most unnatural of ways, until finally coming to a rest once more upon the floor, unconscious but alive, her heart still beating.

"Good," the mage nodded in satisfaction, swiping the back of his hand across his brow. "Now, let's see what we can do about these wounds."

Author's Note

I should've written this damned author's note before I posted. Still kinda loopy. Sorry about the delay, lovelies. I have been very... very sick for the past two weeks, and just got around to... being conscious again just recently. Hope you enjoy the chapter. It's a split into two actually, and the one coming next week is actually ridiculously long. I know how much you all love those. :trollestia:

EDIT: Umm... is this chapter gore? Do I need a gore tag now? I'm so desensitized from being a horror movie fiend, I literally need people to tell me. If I do, I apologize for anyone I made queasy by accident!

To Force the Hand

Something sticky ripped from Aria’s lips, startling the girl into consciousness. She awoke upon her stomach to a sharp tugging feeling in the left side of her back. Groaning in pain and trying to make sense of her surroundings, she attempted to move her arm, only to realize that it, as well as every other part of her sore body, felt as weighted as stone. Crawling her fingers over the curve of her shoulder, eventually, her arm reached far enough to brush against the stinging space.

Floating red, and broken glass shards surrounded her. Looking down, she realized she was lying upon a thick, soaked towel. Flicking her fingers against the black strap that sat saddled just below her shoulder blades, she flinched after they nudged a sizeable shard of glass that had found a way to lodge itself into the spot. Hissing and clutching at her shoulder for comfort, the Siren stirred herself in an attempt to sit up. Something that felt like a boot shoved her back down to the floor.

"Keep poking at that thing, and it'll get infected, won’t it?" Starshot snipped in that distinct, raspy tone of his.

Her eyes shot open just in time to feel a roar of fire rip across her back as the mage yanked the shard from her flesh. He then dashed a flaming liquid across her skin. The Siren choked on a silent scream, her fingers clutching at the cloth beneath her until she felt a pair of hands grasp at her shoulders. They pulled her up, and flipped her about. Looking upon those familiar eyes filled with quiet fury, she finally recalled all that had transpired.

"Get… the fuck… away from me!" she rasped, attempting to kick her legs out, only to have them shoved aside.

"Nonsense!" the wizard chided her. “After all the trouble you’ve gone through to bring me here? Leaving now would make me a rude guest, wouldn't it?”

His smile fell away in an instant.

“Now, where is it?”

“Where is what?” Aria gasped, attempting to hold in a wince when his grip upon her shoulders grew even tighter. She yelped when he shook her roughly, setting her head to spinning.

“Don't play games with me,” he growled. “Where does she hide it? Tell me!”

“I don't know what you're talking about!” the Siren spat, on the verge of being ill.

“The journal!" Starshot hissed, forcing her wobbling head still with a hand. “Tell me, Siren, and you can expect for your suffering to be decreased substantially. Your kin will be none the wiser. No one else has to know.”

He forced another very fake smile. “You may even whisper it into my ear, if you’d like.”

Had his voice not been such an affront to all things deemed gentle and soothing, this statement might have even carried within it a disarming quality. The wizard searched her face, awaiting something that might betray any of her truths. Aria, who felt herself regaining more of her energy by the second, tightly pursed her lips, and spat into his face.

“I said I don't know what you're talking about. Now, get your disgusting hands off me!”

Why was it that she kept choosing, in her hasty moments of rage, to spit in the faces of those who held power over her, especially when she knew that she’d almost always end up regretting it? Maybe Adagio had been telling the truth when they’d had their fight over a month ago. Perhaps she was a glutton for punishment after all.

The time mage seemed to take this offense far better than most, at least. Inhaling a deep, calming breath, he wiped his face off into his sleeve, and with a heavy sigh, stood up straight.

Using this opportunity to scramble away from him until her back hit the wall, Aria watched on as the mage reached somewhere into the array of pockets sewn into his jacket lining. As he did, the stunned Siren fought to make sense of all that had just taken place. Glancing to her left, she studied her sisters, frozen where they stood, surrounded by a hazy halo of gold. Their glowing red eyes stared ahead into empty space, the object of their hatred having long since removed himself from his position of attack.

The Siren’s eyes then shifted toward the bathtub, still half-filled with crimson. Such a long time had passed after she had wounded herself. How was it possible that she might have survived such a thing, and why was she not growing weaker? Logically, her gaze fell upon her wrists next. Around them, so tightly bound that the pressure stung, were two strong lengths of cotton.

"Those need to be reinforced, by the way," Starshot coughed, finally managing to pull a length of what looked to be yet more copper wire from his jacket.

"Huh? Why did you—" Aria sputtered, still shaking from shock. Bracing her head in her hand, she tried to blink away the surreal quality of her current situation. It didn't help her dream-like haze that the time mage’s speech had changed since last they met, even though it now sounded more like what it ought to have been in the first place: slightly antiquated and peppered with modern interjections, many of them directed toward himself because, of course, he was utterly bonkers. What a glorious, hermitish mess this being was. If she had had the strength, Aria would’ve punched him square in that smug mouth of his. She could spy an old world, bourgeois, unicorn smirk of disdain from a mile away no matter what body it was attached to, and just like Adagio’s smirk, she hated it.

"The rib wound would've killed you, of course. Quite efficiently, actually," the mage stated matter-of-factly, twisting the wire with his teeth, and then pointing at her wrists with the length. "Those, not so much. At least not as quickly."

He paused to pass her a cheeky grin.

“But, naturally, you already knew that, being the expert in this department.”

Aria grimaced.

"If you were going to stop me, you could've stopped me before I did this to myself, you bastard!" she cried, presenting her wrists to him. “Are you always this much of a complete fuck up? What kind of mage are you?”

The Siren had to admit to herself that she was attempting to get under the wizard's skin which is why it only worked to irritate her more when he chuckled at her, looking quite unbothered.

“Would you really like to find out?”

The way he spoke these words, ominously, calmly, and with a smile, made the Siren falter. Wrapping her arms around her body for a bit of warmth, she recoiled back into her corner. Seeing this only made Starshot's smile grow even brighter.

"It would seem that you misunderstand the nature of my abilities which is fine, actually. Better for both of us if you continue to do so. But to answer your former question, pain on your part might actually do you some good. You have a mouth on you. It irritates me," he sneered. "And if the pain doesn’t benefit you, then most certainly it will do some good for me. I must concede, you were rather entertaining to watch... and rewatch."

He grinned at her wrists like a child eyeing a bowl of sweets, and chuckled to himself when the Siren screeched.

Reaching upward, the delirious girl slapped her shivering hands over her eyes, praying that she was still alive, and that this nightmare wasn't, in all actuality, some accursed eternal punishment that the spirits had eagerly laid in wait for her centuries before.

"Oh, stop being so dramatic and hold still," the wizard commanded, edging toward her through a slush of wood chips and red water.

Expectedly, she flailed about whilst attempting to cover herself, but succeeded only in slipping down onto her back like a clumsy seal.

"I'll kill you!" she barked, scrambling onto her hands and knees. Her eyes caught sight of the discarded kitchen knife she had turned upon herself lying in the shadows beside the sink. Attempting to inch toward it, it was only then that she realized her legs weren't currently in the business of doing as they were told. Starshot, upon seeing the blade, easily shot over, snatched it up, and then shoved the Siren back down to the floor with a boot. Delighted, he dangled the thing before her nose.

"This what you want, is it?" he laughed, tucking the thing away into some dark fold, and again advancing upon her with the copper wire. "Now, I would advise you to calm yourself, little creature. It will make things far easier for everyone involved.”

The Siren took a deep breath to scream again, and that was when, through all the din and fog in her mind, it occurred to her—Her mouth was unsealed.

Internally calling herself every name for fool that she could fathom, Aria allowed her arms to fall by her sides, and filled herself with as much energy as she could muster which, to be quite honest, was barely any at all. A warbling hum began in the depths of her chest, and worked its way up through her throat. The sacred point below her neck itched and burned as the vengeful song crammed every corner of her mind, and its vibration extended out toward her fingertips. She didn't know what kind of game this mad mage was playing at allowing her to speak freely, but it was going to end right then and there.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Starshot warned her, seeing clearly what she was up to.

Ignoring him, as well as the strange grin he was wearing, the Siren unhinged her jaw to let loose a powerful refrain.

She choked. Her entire body felt like fire, hit with a shocking sensation so painful and unexpected that she could do nothing but force out one, unsteady note. It quickly faded once leaving her lips. She mouthed out a silent scream, and curled into herself, chest racked with pain. Moving up past her ribs, the searing gathered into a circle about her neck, and rattled her throat until it clenched itself shut. Instead of the rest of her Siren song, a tiny squeak escaped her, and she fell onto her back, clutching at her neck, gasping for air.

Once the terrible sensation had begun to fade, Aria took the opportunity to reach upward only to discover that something had been placed about her neck. Edging her hand in a circular motion, she felt a metal ring curving around it, and wondered why she had not previously managed to notice the small clinks and clanks it had made earlier whilst she was busying herself with rolling about aimlessly upon the floor.

"What..." she coughed as her energy drained away. “What is this thing?”

"I warned you, didn't I?" Starshot scoffed, ringing the echo of her one successful note out of his own ears. "Now, hold still. I haven't finished with it as of yet."

An overwhelming sense of helplessness seized her, and she retreated to crouch in the corner once again. Her wide, sallow eyes locked upon the wizard in pure hatred as he approached to kneel before her, looking completely unmoved. He gave her a stare as serious as the grave.

"If you strike me, I will bind your arms. Are we clear?" he inquired.

Aria said nothing, and turned her head away, sickened by the sight of him. When she felt him reach forward to brush the soaked hair away from her shoulders, she recoiled at once, and held him at one, trembling arm’s length.

"Don’t..." she croaked, feigning courage.

"Oh, please, don't flatter yourself," the wizard snorted with a roll of his eyes, his attentions completely transfixed by something below the girl’s chin. Pushing her arm out of the way, he reached out to grab at the ring locked about her neck, brought the wire forward, and attached it somewhere that she could not see. A warm glow came from the space around her collarbone, and after it had receded, the time mage shifted away from her.

"There. Now, let's give it another go," he urged her, slapping his palms enthusiastically upon his knees. Strangely enough, he appeared quite curious about all of this, giddy even. When Aria did nothing, instead choosing to stare at him in confusion, he prompted her once again. "Come on, then!"

"No," she objected, finding no reason that she should do anything that might make him so suspiciously happy. The mage's patient demeanor quickly dissipated. He reached out with a hand, and clenched onto her arm.

"Sing, Siren," he hissed, eyes flashing.

"No!" she screamed this time, attempting to pull away. The wound upon her wrist ached.

Starshot seemed to consider something for a just moment before his hand began to glow, and Aria felt her flesh burn beneath it. Keeling forward, her gaze planted itself upon the spot from where a large, red mark and the smell of singed body hair were now emerging.

“Stop!” she choked, unable to withstand it.

"Make me!" the time mage barked in response, gripping her harder.

Increasingly, the pain became unbearable. Wanting more than anything for the wizard to let her go, the Siren twisted and writhed about, clawing at his arm like an animal caught in a trap. Finding herself far too weak to shake him off, she felt herself instinctively fill with power. Her eyes went red, her jaw unhinged.

C-consume me as you please, oh flame, f-for by my m-might I do the same and—

She choked upon the splurge of vomited words, alternating between sounding something of a song and screeching. The ruined melody was halted only when she again received a deep shock that snatched her up about the neck, clamping her throat shut. At last, Starshot released her, and shook the residue of the fumbled tune from his head once more in a manner that resembled someone wringing pool water from his ears. Aria watched him in a daze from where she was curled upon the floor.

How could this have happened to her again? And what's worse, how could she have so foolishly dragged her sisters into the fray? For all her suffering, the best the Siren could do now was to hope that Starshot's attentions remained planted solely upon her.

As her air passages allowed for precious oxygen to pass through them again, the enchantress clawed at her neck in desperation, trying to tear the horrible contraption off. Swatting her trembling hands away, Starshot loomed over her, frowning in deep meditation. Bidding her to be still, he continued to tinker with the torturous collar. Aria, far too exhausted, chose to oblige him.

"What is it? What did you do?" she gasped, spitting out a few strands of waterlogged hair that had caught themselves between her lips.

“Oh, come now, little creature. Even I can give you more credit than that,” Starshot murmured. “What I've done is clear. Call it a project I've been working on whose very close relative you've seen before, though not since long ago. I believe they use them upon the horns of unicorns.”

The Siren’s eyes shot open wide with realization, and she attempted to sit up to snatch at the wizard’s collar. Starshot quickly dodged out of the way.

“You put a ring on me, you asshole?” she yelled. “I'm not your prisoner! I'm not your fucking dog!”

How utterly degrading—a mighty Siren, finding herself practically prepped for a leash and a good smack in the muzzle with a roll of newspaper.

“I do believe that at this particular point in time, your opinions don't really matter, do they?” Starshot sighed, shoving her neck so that she hit the wall. “You gave me the opportunity I needed to test this thing, and so I took it.”

The sound of something small and metallic twisting and clicking into place caught Aria’s ear. When it did, the mage leaned back, and scratched the blue streak atop his shaking head.

“Well, it isn’t quite there yet," he hummed to himself. "But, I suppose it functions well enough to take this a step further."

Aria passed him a quizzical look until, to her horror, the mage stood, and turned his attentions onto her sisters.

"N-no. Hold on," the Siren stammered, attempting to sit back up.

The time mage peered into his jacket where he kept that strange, glowing circle of light, and studied it for a moment before grimacing.

"I'm afraid waiting isn’t an option," he grumbled. "There is still very much I'd like to discuss with you, after all."

"Leave them out of this!" Aria commanded. "I'm the one who’s wronged you, right?"

As could be expected, the wizard ignored her supplications.

“Maybe I would’ve been more inclined to listen had you told me where Star Swirl’s journal is hidden,” he murmured. Reaching out with an index finger, Starshot then jabbed it right into Adagio's enraged, frozen face, and twirled the digit around not an inch away from her nose.

“I told you. I don't know where that stupid journal is. If you want it so damn bad, why don’t you just ‘poof’ on back to wherever you came from and go get i—” the girl began.

"This one..." Starshot passed an irritated glance in Aria's direction, again ignoring her words. "I'd wager you wished I was foolish enough to release her."

The injured Siren’s lips pursed, allowing no emotion to show. Secretly, she agreed with him. Starshot wouldn't dare waltz about so confidently had both Adagio and she been loose—and able to properly use all of their limbs, of course.

“Adagio would know for sure where that journal was,” Aria stated matter-of-factly. “She’s the one who hid it.”

Starshot studied the glowering, fuchsia Siren for only a moment more before turning away to face the eldest creature once again.

“I've been watching Adagio for some time now. Clever devil, isn't she?"

The mage's expression melted into a deep frown as he stared into that all too familiar, golden visage. For a second, he almost appeared lost in memory, trapped somewhere in between admiration and despise.

"She covers her tracks well, but hides things in vain, I'm afraid. Now that I've found you three, it will prove far easier for me to..." He allowed his words to trail off.

Aria cocked an eyebrow with interest. Adagio had been right again. There was a way to keep information from him. Still, the dour Siren could not fathom at that particular moment how this might hinder a wizard knowledgeable and skilled enough to track both time and space. Nevertheless, if it appeared to trouble him to the extent that he might feel it necessary to mention out loud, then it must have definitely been something worth her noting.

The spiteful mage balled his hand into a fist, and mocked the action of punching the eldest Siren straight in the nose. Sneering, he then turned his sights upon Sonata, stuck mid-stumble, and yet prepared to join in with her sister in harmony. In her rush, the youngest girl appeared apprehensive, a tad bit frightened. It pained Aria to imagine that she might soon come face to face with her worst expectations.

"This one? This one is simple," Starshot beamed, "which makes her perfect for my current needs."

"I said get away!" Aria cried even as the mage raised his hand to draw his spell off of the youngest Siren's body. Oddly enough, his magic did not seem to come with as much ease as it had before. He even shook his wrist after removing the spell, almost as if it had gone sore from strain.

As Sonata's body was released from its enchanted stasis, it careened into the light upon Adagio's back. The whispers of a song were still fresh upon her tongue as she tumbled over. Stammering as the glow in her eyes faded away, in her confusion, she attempted to decipher why, exactly, she was now kneeling upon the tiles. It was then that the poor thing looked about herself, and took in the pool of bloody red, her eldest sister frozen mid-step in the doorway, and the other one bare and wounded upon the floor, bandages upon her wrists, and a strange brass ring about her neck. Then, finally, her eyes trailed upward, and landed upon the mage.

"Aria!" the girl cried in terror. “W-what's happening?"

"Sonata! Sing!" the collared Siren implored her.

Sonata, too stunned to move, continued to gawk at the wizard until her sister managed to fall against her shoulder, nudging her into alertness.

"Kill him!"

"She's right, you know," Starshot added in that eerily calm tone of his. He seemed to delight in the younger girl's apprehension whilst he busied himself with removing his earplugs. "You really should hurry.”

Somehow managing to shake off the shock of everything she had just witnessed, the youngest Siren quickly gulped down her fears, got to her feet, and took a deep breath. Eyes leaking tears, she filled herself with power, and allowed the rage and sorrow that encompassed her to direct itself onto the one who had been causing them such distress.

Oh, cruel of heart, fellow grim beast,
Who’s lived blinded by obsession,
Now, may you hearken unto me...

The song came beautifully though a bit forced in its strange rhythm, and antiquated to fit Starshot’s tastes. It was a haunting refrain full of bite, fire, and desperation. At once the melody wrapped itself around the wizard’s mind, and his eyelids soon drooped in submission. Aria, too weak to speak, sighed in relief as she watched on. It would seem that whatever the mage’s second "trial" was meant to be, it had ultimately failed.

And then the burning, choking sensation picked up again. Clawing at the ring about her neck, the older Siren shook her head in protestation as she was rendered unable to speak. Sonata, never noticing what it was she was doing to her sister, continued on with her melody.

And see reflection of what I've made,
The thing I birthed in you that stayed...

The elder girl's body began to rattle, and again, her eyes rolled back as she hit the floor. The clanking sound of the activated ring about her neck was what finally caught Sonata's attention, and at once, she spun about. When she caught sight of her sister convulsing, she panicked. Immediately her song changed its course as she rushed to Aria's aid.

A dark deed to be repaid in kind.
Why not cease her woes and ease your own mind?

When Starshot, still locked under her spell, barely shifted toward Aria, and then froze to his spot, Sonata, again, panicked. Her song faltered as she watched her sister's back begin to arch and stretch in agony.

W-why not cease her woes and ease your own mind?

Still nothing.

Cease!

“Do something!” the youngest Siren screamed in frustration.

"I cannot touch her like this," Starshot slurred in reply, remaining unmoved.

"Stop it! How do you stop it?" Sonata gasped. Her song finally faded away into nothing as she tugged at the collar herself, only to receive two burned palms as payment. At once, exhaustion hit her. Shoulders slumping and coughing up a bit of what tasted like blood, she rounded upon Starshot, and rushed him to claw at his face. Stumbling to the ground, the mage was knocked free from the girl’s spell at once. Shaking his daze away just in time to catch her by the arms, he staved off her second attack. Ever determined, the girl put all of the energy she could muster into knocking him in the ribs with an elbow. Catching him by surprise with the nature of her strength, and finding himself unable to thwart this sudden show of force, the wizard doubled over, coughing.

"Make it stop!" the youngest Siren continued on, advancing upon him again.

Thinking quickly, the mage raised his hand, releasing a flash of light before the girl’s eyes, stunning her just long enough to snatch her about the neck.

"Alright! Now, that will be quite enough of that! Calm down!" he commanded her. The frantic Siren barely heard him through her choking and struggling. "Be still! Your kin is fine!"

Eventually managing to pull away from Starshot's grasp, Sonata quickly retreated back to Aria's side where the girl had managed to stop writhing, and now lay panting upon her back. Brushing a hand over her soaked hair, Sonata whimpered once, and gathered her sister up into her arms. Trying again to wrench the accursed ring from about the girl’s throat, she found her efforts futile.

"You stupid creep!" she managed to scream through her sobs. "I'll sing and—"

"You might want to reconsider that sentiment," Starshot coughed, rising to his shaky feet as he again knocked his head free of Siren songs, and reinserted the plugs into his ears. "Your tune is what will kill her."

"W-w...wha?" the youngest Siren stammered as the wizard approached her. Fighting to cling onto her sister, she did not let go until forced to by way of magic.

"At least that works well enough,” the wizard muttered to himself as he dug back into the inner bits of the ring about Aria's neck.

"Leave her alone!" Sonata cried. She took in a deep breath, and filled herself with power once again. Her chest burned, and felt as if it might explode. Words rushed through her brain, none of them making sense as they hastened themselves together into an attempt at a song. However, this time, before the rumble of a melody could ever leave her throat, to her horror, she witnessed the ring about Aria's neck start to glow, and her sister's body begin to tremble. Shocked, she allowed her melody to die, realizing that the wizard had been speaking the truth.

Clasping her hands over her mouth, the youngest Siren finally bowed her head in submission. Seeing that she would no longer prove a threat to him, Starshot released her from his now crackling beam of magic. Finishing with the enchanted collar, he took a few paces back, and sat himself upon the edge of the tub. Curiously, he watched on as the youngest girl rushed again to her sister's side to help her sit up. She tore the pink jacket off of her own back, and helped her to slip it on.

"Thanks," Aria rasped, still shaking. “Are you alright? Here, let me see your—”

"Ari, I'm so sorry!" Sonata blubbered, pulling her in close. "I didn't know that would happen!"

"It's okay," the wounded girl replied. "I didn't either. It isn’t your fault."

Something about this exchange disturbed Starshot. To him, it seemed highly unfit and wholly impossible for this horrid pair to be capable of such tenderness. Looking as if he might be sick at any moment, the mage cleared his throat, and leaned forward.

"If you two are quite finished, I do still have questions for you,” he interrupted. The girls' eyes both turned to peer at him, deep hatred seeping from either pair.

"Well, you can just go right on ahead and fuck yourself then, can't you?" Aria replied smugly, gripping Sonata's jacket tighter about her frame.

Working his jaw, Starshot ignored the commentary, and sunk into a more brooding demeanor.

"You know, you deserved to die twice. Of course, I didn't foresee the second one, but still I do very much wish that I had been granted the time to enjoy them both more thoroughly."

The sisters both appeared startled by this statement.

"So, then why didn't you just let me? Isn't that what this was all about? Isn’t that what you wanted?" the elder girl spat, her voice wavering.

The time mage’s features went grim. A long silence ensued as he thought to himself. At last, his gaze rose again to lock with Aria’s.

"Did you know that the morning after you… hurt Cri—,” he cut himself short, “my wife, that I found her eating dirt she had fetched from our garden? Through a mouthful of filth she spoke to me, and said that her only remaining desire in the entire world was for Adagio to love her so that she might more eagerly devour her. Try as I might, I couldn’t save her from what you three had done. Tartarus, I could barely help myself back then.”

He rubbed his temples, despising these dreadful memories.

“She died eventually, poor thing, belly full of worms and the name “Amabile” upon her lips. By that time, she could no longer even remember who I was.” He paused. “Have you ever witnessed someone so very dear to you perish in such a way? Forgetting you whilst longing for their own destruction?”

The two sisters looked at him dully, completely unmoved. Perhaps it was all their lived years' experiences culminating together to create the illusion of emptiness when what they truly lacked was simply the ability to be surprised; however, in Starshot’s all but humble opinion, there was no difference to be made between this reaction and the nonchalant mannerisms of predators unable to see their prey as anything worthy of consideration. This notion, obviously, only worked to irritate him even more.

“What are you saying, Starshot?” he grumbled to himself, shaking his head. “Of course, you could never fathom such a thing, could you? You three were completely untouchable, mighty. Who should you have ever had to worry after when the only beings you cared for were yourselves? I'm sure you’ve devoured tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands by now, if not more. And you being what you are, of course the faces would all begin to blur, the sting of the terrors you wrought would begin to dull. We little mortals could never matter, could we?”

He smiled ominously.

“I intend to change that. I’ve turned into a bit of a stickler for being forgotten, you see.”

"Oh, for Pete’s sake, then just go ahead if you're so damn sick of us!" Aria raged just long enough to pound her fist into the floor before again falling backward in exhaustion. "Why wait? Here we are. Do it now!"

Bluffing—Usually it was best if Aria stayed away from it altogether. With her temper the way it was, she usually ended up goading on the occurrence of whatever she hadn’t previously desired, all for the sake of the dare itself. One could imagine how troublesome this often became.

The wizard did not reply. Working his jaw, he took a deep breath, and leaned to one side on the edge of the tub. This, Aria found quite strange. A myriad of thoughts raced through her befuddled brain, and her lips sealed tight, reluctant to speak the words that were on her mind, the loudest of them being: He won't do it now. He refuses.

“It is my intention, make no mistake about that,” the mage murmured. His eyes shifted toward Sonata. Aria instinctively nudged herself in front of the girl as a makeshift shield.

"But since we last...met in those woods, I've been thinking, and have decided that perhaps I was fortunate for things to have turned out the way they did that evening, in that particular thread of fate. I've been awaiting the crossing of our paths for a very long time, you see. Surely, you could understand my desire to now prolong things, to mold it all until your end plays out in the manner that best suits your sins. And it will, believe me. I have foreseen it. It cannot be avoided. All I'm doing now is following the victorious path that has already been laid out for me."

His lips curled up into a wicked grin when the youngest girl began to cry a pitiful, brokenhearted whimper.

"You took everything I truly cared for away from me in the most vicious of ways. Did you really expect for your end to be so sweet? So calm? Of your own volition, sitting in a warm bath? Never. Not while I still live."

Sonata's sobbing and Aria's belabored breath were now the only sounds that filled the air. The elder girl studied him, this maniacal mage, trying her best not to allow herself to sink into a state of despair. Her jaw squared, and she defiantly raised her chin toward him.

"I don't believe you,” she hissed, shaking the weeping girl into attention. “Don't believe him, Sonata. He's lying. Look at him closely." Directing her with only a glance, Aria instructed Sonata to take a look at the nature of the green smog now escaping out of the wizard's head and shoulders.

Starshot's eyes narrowed, and when he stroked his chin, Aria realized that she had nearly made a grave mistake. Such replies must have been a goldmine to someone like him. Her words were rich with personal implication. She bit down upon her own tongue as punishment for saying them.

"Very well. I lie," the wizard shrugged, and yet the seeping green energy remained unaltered. This only worked to confuse the once immortal pair. Naturally, both statements could not have been untruths. The frantic second guessing of themselves showed clearly upon their faces, and the wizard smiled, taking the free moment to again glance at the now barely glowing disc of light within the lining of his jacket.

"Why do you keep staring at that thing?" Aria inquired, wisely attempting to change the subject. It was time that this arrogant jerk begin to feel as scrutinized and bare as he had forced them to feel.

At once, Starshot closed his jacket, and clasped his hands together.

"Tell your eldest that even if that mortal girl were to aid you three in getting through the portal at this school of hers, you will still never make it back to Equestria alive."

Sonata gasped. Aria said nothing. Afraid for the younger girl to reveal too much with her colorful emotions, she stroked her pretty blue hair, and passed her a sincere look.

"Put your head on my shoulder, okay, Sonata?" she instructed her, murmuring into her ear. "And turn your head away. Can you do that?"

The girl nodded, and did as she was told, wrapping her arms around her sister for comfort as she continued to whimper.

"Look, just do whatever it is you came to do, or I don't care what happens; we'll sing as long as we can until you cut something important out of yourself!" Aria exclaimed, quite tired of the wizard’s antics.

"I've found where you three come from, you know. Your source, so to speak,” Starshot interjected, ignoring her threats. “I've torn it up with my magic, splayed it with the sharp rocks that line your ancient coast. It's all gone. There is nothing for you to return to."

Aria faltered. Gulping down her instinct to panic, she took a deep breath.

He's lying. He's lying. He's lying. If he did destroy our home, wouldn’t our powers be...

"When I get out of this collar—" she threatened.

"And those scars," the mage interrupted again. "Did Midnight Swift give those to you, too?"

This time, she nearly swallowed her own tongue. At last, the Siren’s hidden apprehensiveness broke free to shake her, and laid itself bare for Starshot to witness. What small tint was restored of her color seemed to drain out of her skin in an instant. Suddenly, she seemed far too small to resemble anything of a threat. Her eyes filled with tears.

"H...how..." she squeaked.

"It was he and these scars that helped reawaken you so that you might regain your Sirenhood. Repeat to me the vile things one does to awaken a Siren, won't you?"

Her frame trembled. Sonata held her even closer, and Aria could tell it wasn't for her own comfort this time, but to steady her older sister’s quickly failing resolve. Even still, the older girl could feel a wave of fresh tears freely slipping down the back of her shoulder.

“Or perhaps your kin could remind me how it was these Fylleions, as she calls them, managed to awaken her,” he added, turning to look toward Sonata.

The youngest girl’s head nearly shot up as she gasped in shock. Aria placed a palm upon her sister’s cheek, and pulled her back in close.

“Don't fucking talk to her,” she cried.

She'd never felt so personally invaded, at least not since she had been subject to Mist and Swift all those many lifetimes ago. This mage, this Starshot, who held nothing but contempt for her, had discovered everything. Those horrible things that had befallen them all when they had lived upon land, he'd seen every last bit of it. He really did know where they had came from, and what sorrows had finally driven them back to their sea.

"And don't you... don't... you dare speak about those ponies..." she stammered, her eyes red with rage and grief. Despair encompassed her. If he had known about her history with Swift, then he also really did know where their beach was. Had he really destroyed their home after all? Her head now began to ache. Nothing about this situation was making sense anymore.

Meanwhile, delighting in the pair’s misery, Starshot's confidence seemed to shoot through the roof.

"Midnight Swift," he chuckled. "I suppose it was just your luck that such a horrible pony might have taken interest in you and your sea, might have seen something of worth in those disgusting scales."

Aria paused. She felt her sister do the same. Even Sonata's head spun about to stare at the time mage in confusion.

Interest in their sea? Worth in their scales? But neither Swift nor the Fylleions had ever known them whilst they were in their true forms.

“What are you…”Aria began, but then quickly stifled herself when it dawned upon her: The time mage was bluffing.

Starshot hadn’t the slightest clue who Swift was, nor had he ever tracked down their true origins. To do so, he would have had to find their coast first, and the endless shorelines of Equestria, coupled together with their ancient histories, had more than likely proved too formidable a task for him to take on in his current rush toward victory. That and the fact that these Swifts and Fyllieons were ponies probably far too ancient, too unworthy of note, and long dead to ever become traceable without deeper historical context implied that Aria’s assumption was right. The clever son of a bitch was lying. He had simply been using what he had heard them speak out loud in their rooms or across dinner tables in order to fish for more information.

Pushing Sonata's head back around lest she give this new, gloriously useful revelation away with her far too expressive face, Aria gulped down the greatest sense of relief she had felt in years, and forced a belabored frown onto her maw. If it was the embodiment of evil that this wizard sought, then, by Chaos, was he about to get it.

"Midnight Swift was my savior," the elder Siren hissed, forcing a slithering quality into her tone. She made doubly sure to let loose the most powerful Siren growl she could manage in her current state. "He came to me where I slumbered, and did what one does to wake something so magnificent. For each of us, it was the same. Sonata honored the Fylleions as her mother and father..."

The youngest girl's head shot up in shock.

"Ari—"

Aria immediately elbowed her in the gut, decisively shutting her up, and then shoved her head back 'round.

"And Adagio, well, that isn't a story for me to tell,” she stated coyly. In all actuality, Aria had remembered that Adagio’s husband had been an ancient Duke. Lest he prove traceable, she chose not to remind the mage of this until she had a chance to ask her about it. “Only special ponies, ponies of true quality, unlike yourself, could have ever hoped to win the trust, the heart of a Siren, and it is only mortals of true quality who could ever hope to stop us.”

Her eyes bore into Starshot's, proud and unafraid. They grew even more so when the wizard recoiled, sneering at the noxious thoughts that he alone seemed far too eager to believe. He spat to the side, displaying his disgust.

"The vilest of ponykind. May their spirits rot as yours shall when I'm through with you."

"Oh, I beg to differ, Starshot. I'll have you begging for my song yet. I can smell it in you. You've never stopped wanting after our songs, have you?" Aria laughed, making sure her old Canterlotian accent seeped into her words for effect. Though the small, wiser part of her mind continued to warn her against it, she still desired so greatly to wound the mage, to make him suffer, even if it was only a little bit. "Before this story is through, mortal, I'll fill my belly with you just like I did with your pitiful, sniveling, sweet, delicious, tragedy of a wife!"

He was on his feet then, rushing toward them both. Aria held onto Sonata protectively, but in vain. Raising a glowing fist that sputtered with failing power, Starshot froze the youngest girl in a magical stasis once more. Suddenly, Aria found that she could no longer touch her; her arms shot away from her sister's body, and fell away onto the floor.

Bracing herself, she clawed at the wizard's hands as they wrapped about her throat, and brought her face so close that their noses touched. She laughed spitefully whilst watching him tremble with rage, struggling with himself to not strangle her right then and there.

“Aww, what's the matter, wizard?” she cackled. “Did I say something else that you couldn't predict?”

He studied her for a moment, a thought clearly stewing in those searing eyes of his. Gradually, hesitantly, his fingers loosened their grip about her neck. Raising his hand in Sonata's direction, he again removed the spell from about her body. Delighting in the air of faltering courage that the collared immortal was now emanating, he passed her a wicked grin of his own.

“I want you to pay very close attention to this,” he hissed before a beam of gold escaped his raised fist, emitting a powerful strike directly into the center of Sonata’s chest. The girl screeched as pain shook her. Aria, horrified, tried with little success to shove herself forward to her sister’s aid. Starshot, winding his free hand about her long, purple hair, wrenched her back, very nearly snapping her neck.

“Stop it! This has nothing to do with her!” the Siren screamed, clutching weakly at her own chest as the pain her sister was feeling stabbed into her own core.

Starshot grinned.

“Well, that tamed you like a kitten, didn’t it?”

The younger Siren was curling into herself now, her body shook in agony.

“Go on, then. What were you saying about my wife?”

“You're gonna kill her!” Aria cried, panic entering her voice. “Please! I'm sorry I said it. Just stop, please!”

“Oh, you're sorry now, are you?” he chuckled. “Well, that was a rather timely change of heart. Seems somewhat suspicious, wouldn't you agree?”

The burning in her own chest made Aria collapse backward against the wall.

“Please! W-whatever you want. Just tell me… what to… Please, you're killing her!”

The wizard purposely took his time thinking about it, reveling in the older girl’s desperation as she watched her sister wither.

“Well,” he sighed, wearing a perturbed smirk, “for starters, an honest apology would be nice.”

“I'm sorry! I-I am!” the elder girl shrieked, beginning to cry as she watched Sonata go unresponsive under the mage’s assault. She sobbed as she felt the girl’s presence drawing away from her, far beyond the point where she could hope to feel it.

“I don't know. That doesn't really sound genuine to me at all,” the wizard groaned, trying his best not to burst out into a cruel fit of laughter. “You didn't pay attention to what it was you were saying in the slightest.”

Wrenching at her hair in disbelief and shock, still unable to pull herself from his grip, Aria forced her eyes away from her sister, and locked them with the wizard’s. Tempering her breath, she clasped her hands together, and thoughtlessly threw away every last shred of pride she had ever hoped to claim for herself. At long last, this damned smart mouth of hers had brought about her most feared of consequences. She would just as soon be rid of her dignity now if it meant saving her sister from paying a cost that had always been her own burden to bear.

“I'm begging you,” she gasped. “Please. I'm sorry for saying it; I'm sorry that I did it! Take this out on me. You can do whatever you want. Just please don't… Not Sonata... Please!”

“The journal?” Starshot posed, cocking an eyebrow.

“I don't know! I swear I don't know!”

Her voice had all but shriveled into a pitiful, weak, whimper by the time she was through. Something new had left a void in her, and the hole was far too fresh to yet make sense of it. A wide grin cut its way across Starshot’s face as he witnessed all of this. Gradually, he allowed the magic to fade away from his fist. Sonata’s still frame fell limp onto the ground where her sister quickly snatched her up into her grasp, and shook her frantically.

“S-Sonata?” she stuttered, drawing the girl in close. She received no response. Pressing her ear to her chest, she listened for any pulsing sign of life. There was none.

Lost in a state of complete disbelief, Aria was barely aware of the tears that rolled down her cheeks in her scramble to sing a healing incantation over her sister. The collar choked and shocked her, made her gag in agony. Even though she could not release a single note, she dared not give up trying. There was a sudden ringing in her ears as the world around her began to fade away into nothingness. Trembling uncontrollably, she lifted up the front of Sonata’s shirt, and nearly retched when she spied the smoking wound that had been burned so deeply into the girl’s abdomen, that it was all pink and red instead of its natural, pretty blue. In that moment, she finally understood what that fresh void she felt within herself was. Her head slowly shook as she refused to believe what she was witnessing. This was all just a nightmare, a horrible nightmare.

“Oh, no. Oh, no,” she breathed, lifting a hand to gently stroke her sister’s cheek, afraid that she might fall apart if handled anymore than that. “I can't feel her. Oh God, I can't feel her anymore!”

“Now, that is truly a shock,” Starshot murmured, wiping the sweat from his brow as he boredly watched on. “So, you can experience grief from loss after all. I’ll have to remember to jot that down somewhere.”

“Y-you have to… to take this thing off, and let me sing for her,” Aria blurted frantically, not knowing what else to say. “I-I swear I won't… I just need to…” She sighed and trailed off as she spoke, realizing how ludicrous her request must have sounded to the mage.

Starshot flexed and popped the knuckles of his fingers as he shook his head.

“Well, that would be a very foolish thing for me to do, now wouldn't it?” he clucked. “Besides, just look at her. She’s already dead.”

“No! Don't say that!” Aria screeched, unable to accept such a notion, even while in her heart she knew that it was the truth. At last, she keeled over, going completely still save for her heaving gasps for air.

“This is a dream. This is all just a bad dream,” she chanted to herself through her sobs, her eyes stretched open wide. The wizard peered at her with interest, wondering if the girl had finally decided to go mad.

“‘Fraid not,” he sighed, taking a quick glance into his jacket, and then at his watch. "But perhaps today I've taught you enough of a lesson. I must say, you are a rather crude and brash, little thing. Best to mind your manners when you aren’t sure who it is you're dealing with, ey? I recall you telling a girl something quite similar only yesterday," he stated matter-of-factly as a few flecks of golden light began to surround the youngest Siren’s lifeless body. As it did, the force of its power seemed to shove Aria away until she could no longer hold onto her.

“Don't you touch her! Leave her alone!” she screamed hysterically as she scrambled against the power of the light to get to her sister. The Siren froze suddenly, her breath catching in her throat as she watched the girl’s frame sit up in the oddest fashion. Sonata's raspberry eyes shot open, and her arms and legs begin to twitch. Heaves seemed sucked backward toward her chest, screams were shoved down into her throat as if they had never been made at all.

“You haven’t begun to suffer, trust me. That pit of filth that you call your mouth, it will be your undoing. You, Aria Blaze, and your sisters are a cosmic mistake. Have no doubt that I shall soon correct it." Another sinister grin cracked the mage’s face as his arms rolled backward, one over the other in a steady rhythm. “But not today. Today, you may consider yourselves fortunate, as temporary a sentiment as that might be.”

At once, the glow faded away, and just like a toy, the mage tossed Sonata, now very much alive and coughing as she clutched her burned chest, down into Aria’s lap. The elder Siren collected the girl up into her bandaged arms in a fit of joyful sobs. She buried her face into her younger sister’s hair, breathing in the scent, invigorated by the buzz of life she sensed flowing through her once again.

Reaching forward to hook his hand onto the ring about Aria's neck, Starshot cut this tender moment short by yanking the Siren in close.

“Tell your eldest that I want… that… journal,” he hissed. "Oh, and a few words of warning in case you, for whatever reason, might still require them to grasp this point: Don't ever try to force my hand again. Have some patience. I will return soon enough."

With a twist, the metal collar about Aria’s neck came loose. Then, shoving a hand into his jacket one last time, the inner lining let off a powerful glow that blinded them all.

Adagio lunged forward, never missing a beat. Power still flowing through her, she knew that it would not be possible had Starshot not been present. Blinded by light, she prepared to let off a powerful note before the wizard could escape, but alas, in that bright flash of gold, he was gone, leaving only the three of them sitting dazed and weakened in a pool of broken glass, wood, and sloshing crimson.

For the first time since entering the room, Adagio was given the opportunity to look around at the blood, the smashed mirror, Sonata laying in her sister’s lap, tearfully gasping for air, Aria's bandaged wrists, and the dark burn mark about her neck. When the eldest Siren began to grasp what had transpired, she descended into a smouldering fury. Tired, frustrated tears fell from her eyes, and she clenched her fists around the chunks of wood that floated about her fingers. Staring at Aria, she did not know whether to feel confounded, relieved, or merciful. The middle Siren met her gaze without fear despite her clear injuries, and her even clearer mistakes.

"Damn you. Damn you, Aria. Why?" Adagio crowed, unable to hold back her overwhelming rush of emotions any longer. Attempting to pull herself together, she sniffed back her tears, got to her feet, slogged off the filthy water now soaked into her clothing, and moved to fetch the youngest girl.

"Just… just hold on. Let me get Sonata downstairs first."

—-

The night dragged on for so long that eventually Adagio gave up taking hopeful glances toward the clock altogether. Somehow, she had managed to get both Sonata and Aria to the downstairs bathroom to clean up, discovering in the meantime that the entire house now lay in shambles, particularly her bedroom. It would seem that Starshot had taken the opportunity at some point during his home invasion scheme to attempt a search for Star Swirl’s journal himself. Luckily, Adagio remained confident that he would not find it, at least not until she was ready for him to do so.

Dressing Sonata’s wound had proven a little difficult, it having been awhile since any of them had found it necessary to do such a thing. After allowing both of her sisters to dress for bed, she insisted that they both stay with her for the evening before finally allowing herself a moment alone. Ironically, the eldest Siren wasn’t in the mood for a bath that night, for obvious reasons, and ultimately ended up standing under a hot shower trying to wash off the shock of the day with little success.

Meanwhile, in the dark of Adagio's hastily reassembled room, Aria laid back, wordless and weary, amongst a queen-sized spray of frilly purple and gold satin. Too weak and shaken to even attempt to get comfortable, she turned her head in Sonata's direction, looking for some form of distraction.

The younger girl lay next to her, utterly still and silent, her wide eyes staring up toward the ceiling. Every now and then, a sniffle escaped her, and she would shuffle about, massaging the aching wound now hidden beneath the front of her pajamas.

Wanting to relieve herself of her immense sense of guilt, Aria scratched nervously at her own bandages and cleared her throat.

"Hey, Sonata. I'm thinking about rolling myself downstairs to sneak some beer and snacks. Want me to bring you something?”

She received no response. Sighing to herself, she reached out to nudge the younger girl with a persistent toe. It caught her by surprise when Sonata jolted from the touch, choosing to turn away onto her side instead.

"Yo, Toothpaste," Aria pressed, rolling one of Adagio’s many pillows over so that it might land atop the girl’s head. "You alright over there?”

"No, I'm not alright. Don't talk to me, Aria," Sonata murmured, her small voice hoarse and flat. It was a tone uncommon for her, enough so that it startled Aria into attention.

"Well, how else am I gonna get Adagio's shit pillows to resemble something that normal people sleep on without some—"

"You're a liar," Sonata stated plainly, ignoring her sister's useless rambling.

Caught off guard, Aria scoffed at her.

"What?"

"You lied to me. You lied to both of us at the fair today. You made it seem like... like if you weren't..." Sonata paused to swipe at her face. "After everything we talked about… getting through this together, that whole time, you were still planning to..."

Aria sighed again, and allowed her head to fall backward against her pillow. Far too exhausted to keep up a charade of coolness any longer, she picked nervously at the bandages about her wrists.

"I thought it was for the best, Sonata. If… if my not being here could have quelled his anger to slow him down, or if I could draw him somewhere alone where I could take care of him myself, then no one else would have had to suffer. Or at least he would have been easier to deal with had I not succeeded."

This received no reply from the younger girl.

“I… I didn't plan on you two being home. I goofed. I waited for too long.”

Still silence.

"This is mostly my burden to bear, Sonata, and having to watch what he did to you… it only reinforced that notion to me. Please, try to understand, I was only doing it for the—"

"You're lying again," Sonata hissed, her voice gone so cold that Aria couldn’t help but picture the grimace she was probably wearing. "You didn't do any of this for us. You did it all for you. Just like all the other times."

“Hey, you didn't see the extent of what he was capable of! He killed you, Sonata, and brought you back just to toy with me! Just to spite me! Like if it was some kind of game to him or something!” Aria retorted, now feeling defensive. “The guy's dangerous… and he's nuts!”

The youngest Siren shook her head wearily, and turned around to face her sister.

"You’re right. I didn’t catch all of it. The only thing I caught was all the stuff lying around that showed me what you did to yourself. There's a bathtub full of your blood in there, Aria!” Her voice began to tremble. It was clear that she was trying to keep herself from crying. “Gosh, do you know what it was like, to be in the happiest mood I've been in since I don't even remember when, walking home today, and to suddenly feel my arms... and to know…”

This drew the elder girl into a stunned silence. Sonata took the opportunity to continue.

“You never even think about where we'd be without you, Aria, do you? How we'd feel about it. All you ever do is lock yourself away in your own head and grump about you, and frown about your things, and you, you, you. It's like you can’t even escape those old days at all. Don't you remember what Adagio said? We're all part of the same thing. We’re supposed to be trying to do all of this together now. And we’re trying to change. Why can’t you try, too?"

"Adagio loves being dramatic," Aria grumbled, biting one of her nails. "And newsflash: We all think about ourselves. That’s kind of what we do: act self-centered. Don't pretend as if that's my problem. I am trying to change as much as I can. Like I told you, I did this for you, and had I succeeded, you two would have found a way to fix all of this, somehow."

In all actuality, the elder Siren simply didn't want to admit that she was incapable of the sort of change her sister spoke of. She didn't want to admit that Sonata was probably right about her. She wasn’t really one to ask for help, or advice, or tenderness, even when she needed it the most, and that was already a large part of the problem. She refused to consider that she might not be as alone as she deemed herself. Her head was still locked away in those dark and lonely chambers of the Mist estate. Perhaps, in a way, she’d never really left the place at all.

“Aria, I—”

The youngest Siren cut her words short as she found the pain in her chest kicking up the more she strained herself. Instead, she let loose a sigh, one of defeat. Laying down on her side, she rested her head upon the pillow, and closed her eyes.

"Do what you want, Aria, kay? Just know that if there is a next time, I'm gonna follow you. Whatever thing you choose, I'll choose it, too. We'll stay together whether you like it or not. ‘Cause that's how it's supposed to be."

These words startled the elder girl into a silence, and she found herself fearfully staring up toward the ceiling long after Sonata had fallen asleep, and Adagio had finally returned, freshly showered and dressed in her pajamas.

When the eldest Siren moved to stand at the side of her bed, Aria's eyes shifted in her direction. She passed her a mischievous frown, her heart secretly gladdened to be given some form of distraction.

"I'm not moving, Dazzle. Not after all the fuss you made about getting me into this nightmare lair in the first place."

Adagio chuckled, and passed Aria a disarming grin.

"That's alright. I didn't plan on kicking you out or anything. At least not tonight."

To Aria's surprise, her sister then saddled in next to her, pulled her close, and curved her arm about her so that the younger girl's head came to rest on her chest. Then, astonishingly, she began to stroke her hair.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, her voice calm, sure of itself, unwavering. Aria, still lost in a slight state of shock, momentarily fumbled for words.

"I... I... well, I'm as good as one could expect to be, considering..."

Adagio nodded.

"I'll help you redo those bandages tomorrow," she replied, humming with annoyance. "I don't want anything that bastard touched on you. We don't know what he's done to them."

Aria coughed, attempting to think of something else to say.

"I uh... I learned a lot from him, actually. I'm sure it'll help you, but I'm just not clear on how to go about telling you without him—"

"I know," Adagio interrupted, “but don't worry about that now. We'll deal with it all soon enough. For now, just try to rest. You lost a lot of blood."

This strange mix of tenderness and quiet worked to confuse Aria. Her brow furrowed, and she arched her neck up so that she might look at her sister's face to make sure that what she was hearing fit with her expression.

"Aren't you pissed at me? Shouldn't you be telling me how stupid and thoughtless I am right about now? I mean, if I were you, that would totally be what I’d do… I guess."

Adagio chuckled softly.

"Oh, I am super pissed," she acknowledged with a smile. "But, considering the circumstances, I find that relief outweighs anger. I'm even more glad that you're alright."

Contemplating this reply, Aria allowed her head to rest again upon Adagio chest. Breathing in that warm, familiar scent of roses, she felt all of those pent up things she had been packing away in her heart slowly begin to release themselves. The sensation started as a small trickle, a mere crack in her usually stoic facade.

"I told Cookie, you know," she breathed. "I told her everything. Well, everything that I could with that jerk lurking around. I... I didn't think I'd be around to have to deal with the aftermath."

A nervous chuckle escaped her, one the eldest Siren could tell wasn't genuine.

"I was wondering when you'd get around to doing that. Those kinds of feelings don't happen very often for you, Aria. Not like Sonata... and even me to some extent, I suppose. What's it been, almost a hundred years now? Four hundred before that? There's something to be said about you and that little mortal of yours. It's just a shame that it took this..." the eldest Siren's voice trailed off in an attempt to preserve the peace of the moment. Still, Aria felt her inhale sharply, and let off a deep, rattling breath.

A wave of emotion struck the younger girl, along with the realization of all that she had done, everything that she had put at risk. Gripping her hands onto the cloth of Adagio's pajamas, she braced herself as sobs suddenly racked her.

"I'm so sorry that I keep doing this bullshit. I don't know what's wrong with me! It's like I can't help perpetually adding links onto this long, unending chain of eternal fuckups. I-I don't know why I can't just—"

"Stop," Adagio stated flatly.

"Yes! I don't know why I can't just stop and—"

"No, Aria, I want you to stop talking, and listen to me," the eldest Siren pressed, waiting until all had gone silent to continue. "We're past these apologies, now. I've been thinking about it, and I've decided that just the fact that we are sorry, in whatever respect we each interpret that, means that we’ve already grown to be better than those who made us this way. And we’re gonna keep growing. That's what I think. So, our reckoning didn’t quite come for us whilst we looked like perfect angels. So what? Fate has never allowed us to stray far from its path before. If this is how things culminate to end for us, well, then with it, we would be exactly what it was we were always meant to be, even if that is stranded, powerless, filled with burgers, and perpetually in a crappy mood.”

Adagio chuckled and nudged Aria playfully in the shoulder. Absentmindedly glancing over toward her nightstand, she happened to catch sight of a rather ornate and wide-toothed comb, one she especially loved for its ability to work smoothly through her curly locks. Picking it up, she gathered Aria's still slightly damp hair into her hands, and began combing it through.

"Fate gave us meaning as Sirens, each in our own way, and we should embrace that, whatever it may be. Perhaps it is better that we are disliked. If others never understand, then so be it. This is our nature; so, let's just leave it at that.”

Placing the comb down, she then proceeded to braid Aria's hair into one, long cord over her shoulder.

“Now… about what happened here tonight...” Adagio began pointedly. Her tone of voice made Aria cringe with dread.

"Your actions, Aria, as horrifying as they may seem, could very well end up saving us. You're good at that: pushing things along when no one else wants to."

Aria chuckled.

"It’s weird that I keep having to remind you about this lately, but aren't you supposed to be the leader with the ideas or whatever?"

"Only when my path seems clear and without any dangerous threats," the elder girl replied.

"Pfft," Aria guffawed. "Then boy, does your radar need some adjusting because our ‘path’ has most certainly never been ‘clear’."

"Perhaps," Adagio coughed, taking this opportunity to pinch her sister on the shoulder. "But I could say the same for you... except I won't, because I like your radar "unadjusted". It's more useful that way."

Leaving her be for a moment, Adagio ran her fingers through her own mane, and gathered the entire mass together into three bunches lined in one long queue. Picking up the mirror that sat beside the comb upon her bedside table, she admired her reflection within it, and then turned the mirror upon Aria so that the girl could see herself. The younger Siren chuckled.

"You... are such... an immense dork," she snorted. Adagio smiled, and turned to look at Sonata who, by now, was snoring quite loudly.

"Let's wake her up," she propositioned, only to be stopped by Aria's bandaged hand pressing against her arm.

"Don't," the wounded girl objected, wearing a rather guilty frown. "L-let her sleep. She deserves the rest.”

Noting the confidence draining right out of Aria’s voice, Adagio allowed the matter to drop, and turned to her bedside table once again. Rummaging within it for only a moment, when her hand emerged from the drawers it held a red, velvet-lined box. Upon opening the thing, something curved, and shiny could be seen glimmering in the few shreds of light that leaked in through the window. Peering at the object through the near darkness, Aria blinked when she realized it was her sister’s spiked tiara. She started back when the older girl unclipped the circular piece open, and moved to place the imposing thing atop of her violet, not-curly-in-the-slightest head.

“You're crazy,” Aria chuckled self-consciously, moving just beyond her reach. “I can’t wear that thing.”

Adagio grimaced.

“And why not? I wanna see how it looks on you!”

“It's like a bazillion years old, Adagio, and it's official. I don't wanna break it, and then have you bitch and moan about it.”

“Oh, please,” Adagio scoffed with a roll of her eyes. “What’s the real reason, Aria?”

“Because, idunno,” Aria groaned, sitting up straight, and rubbing at her arm. “It’s your frikkin’ crowny thing or whatever. I'm not some noble. I've never been a noble. Not even gentry.”

A thought flashed across the glum Siren’s mind, an image of a lovely lady pegasus, rose-colored like herself, and a rich widow who had loved her from far away. Aria’s heart sank a little more at ancient thoughts of what could have been, but was fated never to.

“It’ll just look stupid, okay? So, just give it a rest.”

“First of all, it's not a ‘crowny thing’,” Adagio clucked, twirling the shining, purple and gold piece about her finger. “It’s a diadem...thing. And secondly, it's mostly fallen apart anyway. The spikes are all that’s left out of all the jewels, and stupid strips of silk they added to make it look less abrasive. Thankfully, I like it better this way.”

Aria’s neck craned around to stare at her.

“Adagio!” she hissed, making a motion that inferred the message: too specific, too loud.

The elder girl shrugged, and swung the large ring about her finger some more.

“That time mage is a dirty knave. Forget him for tonight.” She leaned in toward her sister. “And don't try to change the subject. Come on, Aria. Try it on.”

“No!” the girl hissed again, scooting further on down the bed. “That thing is enchanted. It's bound to you. What if it makes me break out in hives or something?”

“It won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because your stars didn't make me break out in hives when I tried them on,” Adagio snickered, that old, devilish grin spreading across her face.

“It… Wait, what?” Aria gasped blundering back toward her sister, and prodding at her chest with an indignant finger. “What’ve I told you about touching my stuff? Especially those stars?”

Adagio sighed heavily, and rolled her eyes.

“It's too late for all of that now, Aria. Besides, they didn’t even look very good on me, anyway.”

“Dazzle, I'm gonna slug you so hard if—”

“Well, why don't you begin your campaign of vengeance by putting your dirty mitts all over my things?” the elder girl interjected, holding the diadem out once again. “Whaddya say?”

Frowning, halfway through a generous bout of fist throttling and threats, Aria eyed the fine item over, and then studied her sister. Reaching out to snatch the thing up, she clumsily raised it above her head, and forced it down upon her crown where it sat very close to tilting back off to the side. At once, the dour girl crossed her arms and grimaced.

“There. Ya happy now?” she inquired just in time for the diadem to slip down over her eyes. “Geez, this thing is heavier than it looks.”

“Yea, that would be because it isn’t made of plastic,” Adagio snorted, leaning forward to adjust the thing back atop her sister’s head. She didn’t tug it over with a careless, single-handed grip, nor did she remove it and place it again. Instead, she gently reached forward with both hands, and with great care and dignity, slid the thing up and over, clipping it shut. Her fingers remained there on top of Aria’s head, prodding the diadem gingerly with as much reverence as one who had experienced the piece in all its pomp and ceremonial glory might give it. When she was satisfied, Adagio removed her fingers, slowly edged back, and smiled at what she saw.

“It suits you,” she breathed, tapping her chin with an enthusiastic digit.

“Y-yea?” Aria stuttered, twisting her braid nervously. Her sister nodded.

“Very much so. You look like a noble,” she chuckled, promptly leaning over to fetch the mirror. “Here, have a look.”

“N-no, that's okay,” Aria stammered, wrenching the spiked bit from her head, and dropping it into Adagio’s lap. “I don't think I could stand the idea of myself as something like… like that.”

The older girl eyed her over in surprise.

“I don't think I've ever heard anyone put it that way before. It isn’t as if this is all real.”

“Exactly. It isn’t real,” Aria grumbled. “Back in the old times, I wasn’t something to be treated like a lady. At least not until I could force others to treat me well with my power, and even then I still knew that it wasn’t and would never be ‘real’.”

She nervously rubbed at the permanent purple bruise beneath her arm, and motioned toward her nicked skin.

“Look at me, Adagio. Look at Sonata. We weren’t cared for like you were. All of these are thoughts that have stuck with me my entire life. So, why should I lie to myself now, and pretend as if I'm not… idunno… damaged goods? You can’t bruise or break something like what you used to be.”

Adagio cocked an eyebrow.

“Can't you?” the eldest girl chirped. “Ironically, it seems as if those who were closest to me were always the ones who hurt me, who betrayed me the most.”

There was sadness in her voice. She gulped down some resolve as she stared, heartbroken, at the bandages upon her sister’s arms.

“Not all wounds are visible, Aria.”

“Yea, well mine are, and everyone can see them, and know, even if I don't want them to. I can't hide it all behind a smile and wavy arms and hips like you do.”

A look of understanding swept over the eldest Siren. Thinking to herself for a moment, she then gently picked the diadem off of her lap, and sat it atop her own crown with all of the dignity and royal air that one might expect from Adagio. With confidence, she then picked up the mirror and peered at her own reflection.

“Just because you aren't perfect, just because you’re scarred or hurt, just because you're vulnerable, or sad, or abused, or sick, or weak, or poor, or hunted, doesn’t mean that you can’t still think yourself great. I haven’t been a noble or treated like one for a long time,” she began, flipping a perfect, orange curl over one shoulder, as usual. She then spun the mirror about, pointing it directly upon Aria’s face. The girl caught sight of her own reflection, and the unsure hunch in her back, the nervous rise in her shoulders made her recoil into herself with embarrassment. “At some point, Aria, you should allow yourself the opportunity to gaze upon your own glory, and without shame or fear, love it.”

The bridge of Aria’s nose crinkled as she took in her sister’s words. Twisting at her wrists and bowing her head, she allowed her overgrown fringe to hang down like a curtain in front of her face. Feeling her cheeks go red, she hesitated to relinquish that it was, indeed, out of shame.

“I'm going to sleep, Adagio. I just want this night to be over,” she blurted, her voice hoarse and weak. Without looking up toward her sister again, she plopped down upon her side, and turned away.

She never saw the flood of tears that suddenly burst from Adagio’s eyes, and streamed down her cheeks in silence as she fought to keep her gaze away from the fresh bruises and bandages upon her sisters’ bodies. Muffling herself with a palm, she took a few deep breaths to calm her nerves before sitting up straight, and removing her diadem. Staring at the thing for only a moment, she clipped it shut and returned it to its case lest other thoughts, memories far too old and far too painful, rose up from the shadows to wound her as well.

Silk and Secrets

“Vision has really stuck his hoof in it this time, hasn’t he? One would think his allies, witnessing such a horrid turn of events, would swiftly rush to his aid. And so far, how many have?”

“Three.”

“Three! Can you even fathom… three provinces. Why, they could barely provide enough to feed even half of Edinbridle. Hmph. It is a thing to show you who your true friends are, is it not?”

“Quite.”

“And I hear with the air going so cold above the land, the earth ponies can't even prepare the soil for seeding. To be quite honest, if I were they, I would revolt against the nobility as well.”

“Sister, you are mad! You mustn't say such things! Do you realize where we are? The king shall have your horn and your head if he were to learn of it!”

“Yes, yes, I am quite clear on my current geographical location, my dear Countess. As I am clear that the Duke of Edinbridle need only step down if he truly cared an inkling for the welfare of his lands. I find that brother-in-law of ours quite infuriating.”

“There would be no problem with the lands if those blasted pegasi would stop blocking off the sun, and freezing the very air with that confounded flapping.”

“Commander Saga Celine said—”

“S-Saga… Who is he, now?”

“She is a Commander, of course, and she said that more than likely, the pegasi wings alone are not responsible for the type of cold hovering over Edinbridle, especially considering the way the cold is now expanding beyond its borders. This is something new entirely.”

“Of course you would be the one to find the sole female pegasus Commander. I suppose you've even invited her to father’s estate for afternoon tea.”

“There are two female Commanders, for your information, and don’t be silly. Of course I couldn't invite her over for tea…”

“Oh, naturally.”

“Pegasi don't drink tea. It's either hard cider, water, or warmed up mountain lily milk, boiled until it curdles. I had Turq prepare it; she knew how. The Commander drank five whole cups of it with cream. Can you believe it?”

“Wha? Now, wait just one moment, young lady. You invited a Commander to... Moonstone, you irresponsible, little—”

“Checkmate!” the purple mare squealed, straightening the hems on her flowing, green gown. Though ebullient with life, her emerald eyes were dull with a lack of sleep. Rubbing out the tired sting from one of them, she crossed her front hooves upon the table, and passed her gawking opponent a wicked grin.

“Oh, boulders! I contest that, you little sneak!” Adagio bleated, doing her best to keep herself from drowning in the piles of velvet, silk, and embroidery that was her ceremonial gown. Eyes going wide, her gaze momentarily darted back up toward her sister. “And, don't you attempt to change the subject! We shall revisit this entire Saga Celine matter again, do you understand?”

“To be perfectly honest, sister, I am far more concerned with you having implied that I am a liar,” the purple pony scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief at the audacity of her kin. “I challenge you to prove such a thing! Contest away, oh dearest Gio!”

Snickering to herself, the purple unicorn turned away to pass a glance about her sister’s enormous private chamber. Her eyes fell upon an apple green pony sitting quietly in the corner next to a standing silver pitcher. The earth mare was apparently doing her best not to be seen.

“Beryl!” the unicorn chuckled as her opponent brooded over the gilded board before them. “Do step forward, my dear, and pour my sister—oh, pardon me—your new Duchess, and I another cup of cider. We shall both require it if we are to ever finish waiting for her to uncover a flaw in my method!”

Beryl, now as grown as her mistress, far more stalky, and still harboring the gentlest orange gaze, stepped forward cheerfully, pitcher in tow. Her hooves clicked along daintily upon the pristine, wood flooring, and yet the sound made the golden mare’s brow furrow with frustration.

“For Bullion’s sake, Beryl, do try to trot more quietly,” Adagio grumbled. “You've been making that blasted sound all morning. I swear I cannot hear myself think!”

“Y-yes, M’lady. My apologies,” Beryl croaked, never once losing her sense of calm. She had been Adagio's maidservant practically all of the mare’s life, after all. Such scoldings simply rolled off of her back at this age. She knew the Countess usually never meant anything by it. Still, the earth mare would be hard pressed to deny the sting that each reprimand carried with it.

Picking the pitcher back up between her teeth, Adagio’s faithful servant bent to pour her another cup of cider only to find that the first had not yet been drained. Bowing her head apologetically, she turned to the Countess’ younger sister, Moonstone, and filled hers for what must have been the third time and counting. Then, silently this time, she made her way back to her shady corner looking rather stone-faced. Moonstone, noting this, turned to give her sister a perturbed frown.

“Gio, why do you always speak to her in that manner? You must learn to be more mindful of the servants!”

“Do you mean something similar to how you force poor Turq to practice jousting with you once every week?” the elder mare stated plainly whilst patting down more of her ceremonial frills. Her scouring eyes never left the chessboard.

Moonstone bolted upright, an offended look in her green eyes.

“How dare you?” she chirped, turning suddenly to face another young, sea blue earth mare that stood in the opposite corner of the room trying her best to disappear into the wall tapestries. The small, silver tray of refreshments she held between her teeth began to clatter as she felt her mistress’ gaze fall upon her.

“You enjoy jousting, don't you, Turquoise? Tell her!” Moonstone insisted. At the sound of her name being called, the poor servant pony gasped, accidentally dropping the silver platter onto the floor, and sending the food flying.

“Oh, no! I mean, oh, y-yes, My Lady, Moonstone! I-I enjoy it very much indeed!” she stuttered, falling to her haunches to begin cleaning up the mess. Beryl, still moving as silently as possible, trotted over to help. Moonstone, ignoring all this commotion, turned back about to pass her sister a triumphant stare.

“You see? She adores it!”

“Good gold, Moonstone, and are you not a Glow?” Adagio groaned, fiddling a few of the playing pieces upon the chessboard with her magic. “Surely you should know how to deduce when somepony is lying to you by now. We’ve been lying to mother all our lives.”

Moonstone broke out into a raucous laughter.

“That we have, we… Charlatan!” Catching offense, she once again turned to face the two maidservants where they were huddled in the corner. “Turquoise, dear. Have you been… lying to me about the jousting?”

The tone of her voice was aching, full of the pain of betrayal. Turq, wearing a nervous grin and covered in all manners of creams and frostings, was now currently attempting to get her knees to stop knocking together. She couldn't even manage a proper reply.

“Of course she has,” Adagio cut in, her eyes finally trailing upward to look at the jittery earth mare. “Just look at her. The poor thing’s petrified of you!”

“Petrified!” Moonstone boomed, rising to her hooves. Somewhere from the corner, a squeak could be heard, and when all eyes turned to gaze again, Beryl was attempting to pull Turq out from her new, makeshift hiding place behind a grand, oak wood chifferobe.

Huffing to herself, Moonstone turned to face her older sister who was now passing her a smug grin.

“Checkmate,” the elder noblemare tittered, using her magic to flick a lock of her sister’s sharply cut fringe back into place.

“Oh, do shut up, Mare Goldenstalks. And I'm bored of this game,” Moonstone warbled self-consciously, downing her fresh mug of cider, and using her magic to fling the chessboard off to a distant tabletop. “Let’s just get a move on, and fluff ye’ backside for the King and Queen so that this day can finally come to an end. I swear this robe mother has forced upon me is positively suffocating.”

One of Adagio’s hooves tapped impatiently against the table as she braced her head upon the other. It wasn’t a new sentiment or anything, but for the life of her, she couldn't understand why her younger sister refused, with all of her might, to simply grow up. It was long overdue, and she had long since been trained in every appropriate way to prepare herself for marriage just like her sisters, and yet, all she seemed to worry herself with were her own ridiculous, fillyish daydreams. Granted, Moonstone was a tough one as far as noblemares went. She was strong-willed, hard headed, and very, very bright—a quality she obviously picked up from her slightly older sister—but also quite naive when it came to the ways of her elite world, an enclosed place of intrigues, brimming with mortal dangers, betrayal, and broken dreams. A pony with even the slightest amount of real life experience, like Adagio or their eldest sister, Violet, better understood how the fantasies of one like Moonstone were easily crushed underhoof by many who were far more powerful.

It was a fearful thing, worrying that her brash younger sister might say the wrong words to the wrong noble one of these days, and suffer terribly for it, but who was she to talk? On this particular day, fate would have it that she should suffer a great disgrace of her own, one that put her very life and title in danger, one she could not yet muster up the courage to mention to the one noblemare who might listen without judging her unjustly. Instead, Adagio chose to hide her grief and fear behind a show of irritation, and direct it all—unfairly, perhaps—toward her sister.

“Sister, why do you not stop these frivolous pastimes, make haste, and marry? You’ve long since come of and passed age, and you can’t live under the glow of mother and father’s horn forever,” Adagio chided. Moonstone promptly rolled her eyes, and set herself to groaning.

“Don’t you start as well, Gio; I'm far too tired for it, and I simply couldn't bear it if you started with that nonsense. I've told mother a thousand times, I don't want to be married off to some arrogant, stiff-tailed, mare-loathing noble. I have a life to live, first! I want to change the kingdom for the better, and end these petty squabbles like that which rambles on between our… beloved brother-in-law and Commander Debon Air. I don't want to sit about as a foal factory like our eldest sister, Spirits bless her soul.”

Adagio cut her eyes at the younger unicorn, tapping a hoof against her cheek.

“My dear, marrying a ‘stiff-tailed noble’ is how to best influence the changes you wish to see. Like it or not, to have the ear of a powerful pony is your path of least resistance. You'd be surprised what you might accomplish if you would simply accept this truth.”

“Oh, dragonshit,” Moonstone spat, turning away and crossing her forelegs. Both of the servant ponies suppressed their gasps at having been made to witness to such scandalous speech coming from a noble lady.

“I shall do whatever it is that I please, and I will show everypony that a mare left to her own devices is capable of exactly the same thing as any stallion. Why, look at the pegasi and the earth ponies. Does anypony ask whether the pegasi’s female warriors need a seat, or a sip of water, or a nice hat to shade their eyes from the sun when they’re fetlock-deep into an enemy's guts? Does anypony ask a mare farmer whether she might require any assistance with pulling monstrous tree stumps from the earth when the lord of her land is in a rush to profit from her blood, sweat, and tears? Granted, earth ponies do tend to band together as a habit, regardless, but—”

“But you are a lady, Moonstone. You are not like those other, common or barbaric mares,” Adagio sighed, shaking her head.

“And yet, even those ‘common and barbaric’ mares are subject to marriage as well, are they not?” The purple noblemare smiled in light of her own cleverness. “The only time a mare of any race is expected to halt her entire life is when she is in the presence of some stallion who wishes to claim her as yet another one of his earthly possessions, like this table or these sitting cushions! Just sit right on her and weigh her down until she’s full of lumps and tears, worn with age, and well molded to kiss his arse!” Moonstone lamented. “It is so terribly unfair!”

“Moonstone, you are so terribly exhausting,” Adagio shrugged and sighed to herself with finality. Clearly it was of no use arguing with the likes of her little sister. As kind and righteous as she might have been, not only had the younger noblemare still grown to be somewhat self-centered—a Glow household trait if ever there was one—but her revolutionary and quite often crude tongue always seemed to have some difficulty with remembering its manners when necessary. Nevermind that Adagio, her closest sibling, had been married going on four years now to the most stiff-tailed of all known noblestallions. Nevermind that today, the entirety of the kingdom’s nobility had gathered at His Majesty’s palace in Canterlot to witness her husband’s elevation to Duke, and by proxy, her to Duchess by his side, positions that would make them two of the most powerful ponies in the land. With one twirl of her hoof, the golden unicorn could practically have whatever it was that she wanted, but of course, this would never occur to the likes of Moonstone. No, all the younger pony cared for was her own freedom, and ambitions, and pride, all rare and fleeting commodities for a mare of any stature, and all unrelated to obtaining what it was she really wanted: true power.

Adagio cocked a brow as she studied her pristinely shined forehoof. If only her sister could understand what it was necessary for her to relinquish in order to hope to see a day such as today. A splash of blue and the faint trace of a seaside breeze flashed across Adagio’s mind, and for a moment she allowed a small smile to crack her stoic expression as she remembered those days, long gone, once filled with songs and the rolling sea.

“Gio? Gio, are you listening to me?” Moonstone prodded, snapping the golden mare out of her brief reverie.

“Yes! I mean, no, Moonstone,” Adagio corrected herself as she finally rose to her hooves. “I'm afraid there’s far too much to worry after at present. I shouldn’t be sitting still like this.” As she stood, the intricacy and grandeur of her billowing robe, along with its flowing trail was made quite apparent to all who gazed upon her. Naturally, she was a vision—one her sister couldn't help but snicker at the sight of.

“Queen Corona, you look exactly like the cake we gifted to grandmama on her birthday last,” the younger mare chortled, forgetting all of her pitiable complaints from a few moments prior.

“Oh, I’m quite certain of it. With some extra frosting for good measure,” Adagio groaned to herself, hitting a pirouette, and almost falling flat upon her face. “How shall I ever walk in this? My nerves shan’t allow it!”

Seeing her mistress’ distress, Beryl rushed over having apparently pulled a needle and thread from out of thin air.

No worries, M’lady!” the sweet, green mare tittered, flicking her orange braid back behind her shoulder. “I shall hoist those hems half an inch more. You’ll flow like a swan if I have anything to say about it!”

“Or at least waddle like a goose,” Moonstone snorted, pressing a dishonest hoof against her rudely grinning lips.

Adagio and Beryl eyed her over wearily, both having had quite enough of her ridicule. Noting this, the younger noblemare cleared her throat, and turned to inspect herself in the chamber’s oversized, gilded mirror.

“Oh, you two are no fun at all,” Moonstone yawned as she stroked admiringly at her dark violet mane which had grown longer since childhood to now brush past her shoulders. “You'll be glad for my company once they finally arrive.”

Both the heads of Adagio and Beryl shot up to stare at the purple mare in a state of dread.

“Oh no,” Adagio breathed, her words soon transforming into an aching groan. “Oh, Moon, you didn’t!”

“Didn’t what?” Moonstone exclaimed, spinning about to face them. “I haven't done a thing! Do you realize how difficult it was to keep mother and Violet out of your private apartments? Why, Violet’s been awaiting audience in the salon for the past hour, playing Nine Mare’s Morris with her endless supply of daughters!”

“Oh, Spirits. I told the guards I wished to be left alone!” Adagio cried, swiping her hooves down the length of her face. “And what of mother?”

“Has yet to arrive from her chambers, thank Bullion,” Moonstone mumbled to herself, her attentions once again drawn by the mirror as she adjusted the train of her gown. “She must be driving father absolutely mad this morning. Come to think of it, it would be wise for you to down that goblet of cider whilst you are given the opportunity.”

“Ock, you’re absolutely right,” Adagio sighed, pulling herself out of Beryl’s grasp, and leaving a single trail of thread in her wake as she bounded toward the container upon the table. Snatching it up into her magic, she quickly gulped down the entire thing.

“Beryl? Pour me another!” the Countess commanded. “Quickly!”

Eager to do as she was told, the frazzled, green mare rushed off to fetch the silver pitcher, and refill her mistress’ cup. In the blink of an eye, the liquid was all gone again, disappeared down Adagio’s gullet. This rather unsightly drinking caught Moonstone’s attention, earning the mare’s older sister a rather suspicious glare.

“Gio, drink if you must, but are you sure you should be drinking so quickly?” she inquired.

“Yes,” Adagio replied flatly, directing Beryl to refill her goblet yet again. Silly Moonstone, thinking that all of Adagio's woes were to be found in their loud mouth of a mother, and a peerage ceremony. If only she knew what kind of trouble her sister was truly in.

“I was only joking, you know. What about the matter we spoke of on week last?” Moonstone continued, her voice going very quiet. “Has it not yet been confirmed? Are you not still feeling the sickness? I can't believe I didn't ask you earlier. These horrid dreams and lack of sleep have rendered everypony at the estate completely useless, myself included, but I swear I truly am so very excited for you!”

Things descended into an uncomfortable silence. The Countess’ expression went all dark and dull, something that made her younger sister recoil with apprehension. Everything froze, save for Beryl who continued to bustle around Adagio’s hems, sewing as quickly as she could manage. At once, the regal noblemare turned her gaze downward toward the green pony, and cleared her throat.

“Beryl, fetch my diadem. Take Turquoise with you,” she commanded.

Seeing that her mistress wished to be left alone with her sister, Beryl quickly bowed her head in reverence, and cut the sewing thread with her teeth.

“Yes, Mum. Right away,” she murmured whilst bustling her anxious blue colleague out of the room, and closing the door behind them both.

By this time, the look on Moonstone’s face had filled with apprehension as she stood there, shifting her weight from side to side.

“Gio? Well?” she prodded for a reply. At last, the elder mare let loose a long, frightened sigh, and plopped back down onto her sitting cushion at the table.

“I...it appears that I was mistaken. I am not...” the golden mare seemed to choke upon her words. She took a deep breath and started again. “I learned from the queen’s physician only early this morning; I've failed again. I-I was so certain that this time…”

“Oh, Gio,” Moonstone sighed, rushing to her sister’s side to comfort her as the elder mare buried her face into her gold-shoed hooves. “I'm so sorry.”

“What shall I do, Moonstone? How shall I face him today, a failure, yet again?”

“Gio, you didn’t tell him!” Moonstone gasped. “You told him that you were—”

“No, I haven’t! I simply…” Adagio dragged the cider pitcher over toward her with her magic. “I may have told him to keep his hooves crossed, questioned him about tapestry-themes for the nursery, things that hardly interest him on their own, but when presented as clues…”

She poured herself another heaping cup, and this time nursed it slowly.

“He shall throw me out this time. I'm quite sure of it. He shall annul his ties with me after he is made Duke. How could I ever—”

“He will do no such thing,” Moonstone chided her, taking her hoof and sweeping it under her sister’s chin so that they might look at one another. “No harm shall come to you or your marriage, foal or no. I will see to it right this instant.”

Adagio, seeing the sincerity in her sister’s eyes, nodded her head, and wiped her half-formed tears away.

“Good,” the younger mare replied curtly. “We must tell Violet.”

“Have you completely lost your mind?” Adagio hissed, bolting upright. “Violet will tell mother, and then—”

“No, she shan’t, Gio. You must trust me. Violet will know what to do!”

Trying to decipher the secrets hidden in Moonstone’s words, gradually, realization dawned upon Adagio. Her wide-eyed glare of desperation suddenly calmed into a dark look of suspicion.

“She's gotten you out of trouble before, hasn’t she? Moonstone, you irresponsible, little—”

“Pardon me, Your Grace, but if I am not mistaken, you are the one who is currently at risk of being thrown right back into mother’s hooves, a public disgrace, and all because of your own big, fat mouth! Perhaps if you would learn how to—”

The aura of despair that descended upon the golden mare was so heavy that not even Moonstone could avoid its weight. Her lips sealed themselves of their own accord, and after an awkward beat of silence, she leaned forward in an attempt to embrace her sister once more.

“Gio… I… I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Go and fetch her then,” Adagio croaked, edging just beyond her sister’s reach. Longing to be rid of the feisty mare, even if it was only for a few seconds, she turned her head away, refusing to speak again.

At the tone of her sister’s voice, Moonstone’s head instinctively bowed. Silently, she turned, and trotted from the room.

Left to her own devices, Adagio exhaled in relief, and collapsed backward into the middle of the floor. Unsightly or not, this was the first moment she’d had to herself since their arrival at the king’s palace exactly one week ago. This was to be expected of course, considering the current circumstances, but the sheer lack of privacy from not only her servants, but her husband and their families was becoming increasingly maddening. She was in desperate need of some relief which would not altogether be a bad thing except for the scandalous nature of that which brought her the most joy and peace of mind, namely a certain white-coated knight.

Bullion, I wish I could see Lighthoof, even if only for a moment.

Of course, knowing Prance, he would be delighted to hear that she had failed to conceive yet again. It seemed the stallion only became more and more gleeful everytime Adagio told him the awful news, almost as if he saw it as fate attempting to hint at a possible future that could be shared between them both.

And as time passed, the more Adagio hoped that this was true.

With each and every failure, her restlessness and desperation for freedom from such worries and obligations only grew. If only she had the courage to act upon such desires. After all, not even Moonstone, her most courageous and outgoing sister, could go any longer than a week without at least three servants rubbing the jousting aches out of her back with her favorite, overpriced jasmine oils. Once a noble, always a noble, and if anypony should know that, it would be a Glow. Still, it didn't hurt to dream about what a life with somepony like Prance could be like, perhaps off in some comfy cottage in some distant countryside or hidden glen where no one they knew might ever find them.

Of course, ideas like these were implausible when seriously considered. She was going to be a Duchess. Starting today, there wouldn't be a soul in the entire land who wouldn't know who she was.

Looking back upon it all again, what had happened between Prance and herself seemed fated. They had practically grown up together, her parents and the Goldenstalks never suspecting that one as refined as Adagio might ever be so careless as to allow her heart to do something so common as loving freely. Her grand and glorious life had already been decided for her, and like her sister Violet, she was expected to be obedient and stick to the plan. For a while, that is exactly what she had done. In her own defense, she had not even realized that what she had been feeling for Prance was love until they had nearly passed their teens, and she had already been married to the Duke for over half a year.

Of course, the servants gossip about their “improperly chaperoned” walks through the estate gardens at night or their suspiciously flirtish games by the fountain never seemed to bother them at first, because they felt there was no basis to them. Besides, hadn’t they been doing the same thing since childhood? Why should marriage be allowed to dissolve such an amicable friendship? Even Upright could never bring himself to suspect such foul betrayal.

It was in this way that the three had lived in a perpetual state of emotional purgatory for years, Prance and Adagio pretending with all of their might—and doing a horrid job with hiding the fact—that their love for each other grew more and more each and every day, and the two of them mumbling lies and excuses around their pitifully oblivious Lord, Upright Goldenstalks, who eagerly awaited the arrival of an heir that even the servants knew was unlikely to come.

Adagio supposed this was how the other rumors had started, all of those lurid tales about her persistent unfaithfulness and whatnot. Those blasted servants and their endless gossip. It was a wonder that Upright had not begun to fall prey to their viciousness. Then again, thankfully, the Lord was never the type to care about such things which he considered frivolities, but which Adagio knew that, given the right ear, could quickly turn into a dangerous, even deadly mode of attack against her. The words of the common ponies held more power than they realized, and these growing rumors of infidelity, along with the fact that she had yet to produce an heir to the Goldenstalks line, were gradually mixing together into a most poisonous combination, one that she feared would very soon infect the mind of the Lord who held power over her very life. Something had to be done about either a foal or these rumors very soon if she and her position were to remain secure. Otherwise, a horrid thing was sure to happen.

Whining and groaning to herself upon the floor, Adagio was startled into attention when the voice of the guardspony rang out in the hall beyond her chamber door.

“Pree-sen-ting Her Grace, the Duchess of Edinbridle and the Honorable Moonstone Gl—OOF!”

“Oh, shut it, you prattling ninny, and make way! She’s our sister, for Bullion’s sake!” an irritated voice, clearly her older sister Violet’s, exclaimed after apparently having shoved the poor servant out of her path.

Adagio, knowing by her sibling’s irritated and high-pitched tone, that she was already doomed to a scolding, never even bothered to lift herself from off of the floor. When Moonstone and Violet finally entered the room—the latter dressed in a furious whirlwind of lavish, midnight blue silk—they both gawked at the sight of their sister lying on the floor in her mounds of ceremonial dress.

“Unacceptable!” Violet trumpeted, slamming the door behind them. “Adagio Dazzle, I absolutely refuse to hold a civil conversation with you unless you pick yourself up off of the floor this instant, and act like a proper lady befitting of your stature!”

“Good, then that shall save us all the headache,” Adagio quipped, not moving an inch, hoping that all of the gaudy frill that surrounded her might soon swallow her whole.

“But you are mussing your robes! They were a gift from the Queen! Do you realize how expensive—”

“Vee, please. I have promised her that you would not do this,” Moonstone bleated, poking at her sister’s sleeve. “She requires our help.”

Eyeing her elder sister ruefully, Adagio wondered at exactly what point such a quiet, demure, lady of a mare as Violet had transformed into this nervous, neurotic, bossy noblemess.

Breaking out into a sly grin, the golden mare proceeded to answer her own question. Surely, being married to such a traditional Duke as Lord Vision, and ending up surrounded by seven brattish, brutish children—three spoiled sons, and four rebellious daughters—would do that to a mare.

“Moonstone,” Violet hissed in warning, “I refuse to listen to this type of coddling nonsense when the very immortals are here today to witness this… this lump become a contender for the throne.”

This statement caught Adagio’s ear. Curiously, she turned her head in her elder sister’s direction.

“Immortals?” she inquired. “And just what is that intended to mean?”

Violet’s head whipped about so that she might glare daggers into her sister.

“Oh, haven't you heard, Your Grace?” she chirped sarcastically. “The two sisters themselves have decided to bless you with their presence today. Told His Majesty that it was absolutely imperative that they witness this occasion. They shall both be attending your ceremony.”

The golden unicorn shot up in shock.

“What? Why?” she screamed. “Why wasn’t I informed of this? I am hardly prepared!”

“No one save for the King and Queen knew of it. I only just learned of it whilst speaking with Corona this morning.”

“Oh no,” Adagio groaned self-pityingly as she buried her face back into her robes. It would seem that her hastily swallowed cups of cider had begun to take effect.

At first Violet gave her a smug grin, appearing to take delight in her sister’s realization of her own ineptitude. Spinning about to look at her youngest sibling, she was met with nothing but the most furious of stares.

“Violet?” Moonstone growled. “Enough!”

The look on Moon’s face seemed to calm the older mare’s temper. Sweeping a lock of her perfect, snow white mane back into place in its elegant bun, she closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. Upon exhaling, she slowly stepped forward to stand by Adagio’s side. When she loomed over the golden mare, she huffed, and worked her jaw to keep from blurting the first, probably regrettable thought that entered her mind.

“Moonstone has informed me that you’ve found yourself in a bit of a… pickle,” she tittered, her sense of calm sounding completely forced. “Speak.”

Adagio said nothing. She simply sighed.

“I have told you all of it already, Violet,” Moonstone jutted in. “She’s only discovered it this morning. Have some pity, won’t you? Try to imagine how you would suffer if…”

Her voice trailed off, and the three sisters were left in silence. The look on Violet’s face melted into one full of regret and shame. She nodded, bowing her head in reverence.

“Forgive me, Gio,” she croaked. “Sometimes, it is difficult for me to remember that…”

She too trailed off when her gaze locked with her distraught sister’s. Taking a moment to think, she sighed to herself, kicked up her hems, and gingerly lowered herself down upon the floor next to Adagio’s still form. Tenderly, she placed a hoof upon hers.

“Did the physician allow you to keep the spell?” the elder mare asked her gently.

Adagio nodded.

“Give it here,” Violet continued, motioning with her head.

Almost immediately, the doors of the chifferobe on the other side of the room swung open, surrounded in a berry red aura of magic. Inside sat an enormous, violet chest with a silver, crescent-shaped lock upon its front, a symbol of the Glow household. A moment more, and the lock was surrounded in that ruby glow, and clicked open gently. Sitting up for the first time since her sisters had entered the room, Adagio peered into the chest as best as she could from her place upon the floor. Spotting what she had been looking for, she levitated what appeared to be a small, vial filled with a clear liquid toward her sister.

Grasping the small bottle in the hazy, indigo glow of her own magic, Violet peered closely at the thing.

“Oh, Gio,” she croaked painfully, “I'm sorry.”

“I was so sure this time,” the golden unicorn sighed. “I had the illness, and thought—”

“Shh. Nevermind that now,” Violet hushed her, hiding the vial away somewhere amongst her many folds and flaps of silk. “I shall take care of the evidence and the physician. It is only a shame that you weren’t made Duchess earlier. You could have already gained privilege to the royal collection of high level, memory-altering spells that you would have required. Regardless, listen carefully; this is what you must do next. You shall continue to allow the Earl to believe that you are with foal.”

Both Adagio and Moonstone’s eyes shot open in shock.

“What?” they both squawked.

“Trust in me, sister. Do as I say for but a month. No mare begins to show significantly after but a month. Do this just long enough for all of this hubbub to die down. Then, when nopony is looking or suspecting, you shall have an untimely ‘accident’ at the fault of some careless servant. A freshly mopped floor, some poorly cooked stew, it matters not. The blame shall not fall upon your head.”

“Violet,” Adagio gasped, her head shaking in disbelief, “you cannot be serious.”

“Blame a servant?” Moonstone continued. “Have you grown so cold, Violet? What should become of them?”

“To kill an heir? The Earl would surely have them destroyed!” Adagio added, now feeling anger rising up into her chest. How could her supposedly responsible and once caring sister suggest such a cruelty? Clearly, some of Duke Vision’s traits had rubbed off on her over the years.

Violet reeled upon them both, looking quite defensive.

“Pardon me, but I believe I was called here to help save Adagio’s hide, was I not? I never said it had to be an adult servant. It could be a young squire of your estate, or perhaps one of your attendant fillies, a servant of some worth. Surely, the Lord would have more mercy upon them. But you alone, Adagio? I am not so sure. Not with the way you've continued gallivanting about in public with that white stallion of yours.”

Adagio’s head spun about to peer at her sister, not believing what it was she had just heard.

“W… what did you just say to me?” she hissed.

“Now, come, come, Violet! That is most uncalled for!” Moonstone interjected, furiously. “Why is it that you must always do this when—”

“If only we could all be so lucky as to have a husband that kept us as ‘busy’ as yours has kept you!” Adagio cut in, now filled with spite. “When not in labor, flat upon your back, bringing the Duke’s spoiled brutes into the world, then you're flat upon your belly, groveling forgiveness and aid for his sins from all manner of dignitaries, my husband included!”

All jaws in the room dropped. Violet was left utterly speechless.

“Oh, pardon me,” Adagio continued, more than eager to now twist the vicious blade she had planted. “I suppose I should offer you some leniency. You grovel only during the three months of the year in which your belly is flat.”

“You ungrateful…” Violet spat, lunging forward to strike her sister, only to be stopped by Moonstone holding her back by the hems of her silken gown. “How dare you speak to me this way? When I've come here to help you keep your very marriage intact? And after you and your grim Lord have continued to ignore my pleas for reinforcements in Edinbridle? Do you realize my ponies starve and are on the brink of revolt whilst you fool about, skipping through the tallgrass with that commoner without a care in the world? Whilst the entire kingdom goes mad with night terrors of monstrous evils? Whilst Upright continues to hoard his money and supplies like the greedy, selfish—”

“You would do well to keep the Earl’s name out of your viperous mouth,” Adagio growled.

“I want those reinforcements, Adagio!” Violet barked, pounding her hoof into the floor. “Order him a new library full of his dull books, feed him grapes upon a silver platter, rescind your affections for the knight, and give the Earl a blasted foal if he so desires it. I don't care how you accomplish this. Just get it done, damn you!”

Moonstone wrenched as hard as she could upon Violet’s dress. The eldest mare struggled against her with a hind hoof, and turned once more to face Adagio.

“This is my price for fixing the mess you have created,” the beautiful, snow-maned mare hissed. “If only one of us is to fulfill her duties as Duchess, then by Bullion, it shall be me!”

For a moment, Adagio was left shaken. Looking at her sister with deep resentment, her lips struggled to find a proper retort.

“Y...you don't know anything about Lighthoof… or the Earl… or me,” Adagio croaked, her voice shaking, barely audible. It was clear her resolve had weakened.

Violet’s eyes narrowed. Slowly, she shook her head.

“Oh, my sister… everypony knows about you. And if they know that, then just imagine how much more I must know.”

Adagio’s eyes went wide with terror at the dark implication in Violet’s words. The golden mare was so very caught off guard by it, that she broke out into a nervous chuckle.

“What exactly are you saying, Violet? Are… are you blackmailing me?”

Before Violet could reply, the booming voice of the guardspony once again resounded in the salon beyond the chamber threshold. It startled the three mares into attention.

“Pree-sen-ting the Right Honorable Lady Whinnysor!” the stallion bellowed.

“Oh, fresh Tartarus," Moonstone hissed. "Mother has arrived.”

Picture of Perfection

Between the sisters, all transgressions were forgotten in an instant. Turning to wrench her dress from Moonstone’s teeth, Violet got to her hooves, and straightened herself. She secured the physician’s spell her sister had given to her so that it could not be seen beneath her cloaks. Adagio followed suit, smoothing out her own gown as well.

It was true that the rift between Adagio and her older sister had grown far deeper over the years for various reasons, the greatest of them being sheer jealousy and spirit of competition. Adagio was well-liked, and her husband so bland that he was actually seen as agreeable in comparison to the likes of Duke Vision, the tyrant. Violet, though not as admired as her younger sister, had long since proved herself with her grace, wit, and cunning, and had never once failed in reinforcing her image as a perfect lady. She was the picture of diplomacy, and having given birth to an heir—and then some—stood upon a pedestal the likes of which her sister could not seem to attain for herself. However, there was still one thing and one thing only that was sure to bring even these two rival siblings together in camaraderie: disdain for their mother.

“Moonstone!” Violet spat, knowing there wasn't much time left until all chaos broke loose. “The cider and goblets. Get rid of them!”

“Damn!” the younger mare squealed, collecting the items up into her magic, and dashing them wildly out of a nearby window. She then turned to stand in a perfect queue alongside her sisters just as the Baroness was entering the room. Trailing behind the older mare were the servants, Beryl and Turq. The both of them were clutching the sides of a single, red velvet box between their teeth.

The sound of the pitcher Moonstone had tossed from the room resounded against something hard in the garden below. A stallion’s scream echoed up through the window, and the din of it all made the Baroness recoil.

“What in the blazes was that sound?” the aged mare inquired, eyeing her three suspiciously perfect daughters. She never noticed Moonstone nudging Adagio in the leg with a hoof beneath her robes, or Adagio nudging Violet in much the same way. The eldest sister squeaked in surprise as her sibling’s hoof caught her in the rear.

“Nothing at all, Mother,” Violet choked. “We were simply finishing up with Adagio’s robes.”

“Improper! You two should be waiting in the salon,” Starry huffed, turning to pass an accusing eye toward the two maidservants behind her. “As fortune would have it, I found these two lounging in the antechamber, gossiping, and fooling about with your diadem, my dear! You should take care to discipline your servants more effectively! What if they had damaged it?”

Beryl and Turq, eyes going wide with fear, cowered in the presence of the noblemares. As far as they could decipher, the looks all three sisters were now giving them implied terrible punishments to come. Luckily for them, Moonstone, Adagio, and Violet were seasoned actresses, well-acclimated to the tastes of their mother.

Taking a moment to clear her throat, Adagio stepped forward, Beryl now in the crosshairs of her gaze. Before she began to speak, she passed the cowering green mare a wink. Her mother, too busy fiddling about with the diadem case, did not spot this, but fortunately, the servant mare caught sight of it just in the knick of time.

“Foolish fillies! How dare you abandon your mistress on a day as important as today? What would I have done if my sisters had not been here to attend me?” Adagio scolded the two trembling maidservants.

Turq, who had not managed to catch the Lady’s wink, practically collapsed onto her face. Eager to avoid any punishment that might come at the hooves of the Baroness, Beryl fell down beside her.

“F-forgive us, My Lady. We only thought that since you commanded us to—Eep!”

The poor, blue mare’s lament was quickly silenced by Adagio discreetly stomping down upon her foreleg.

“Lazy things. I shall be sure to deal with you after the day’s proceedings. For now, I can't bear the sight of you. I wish to be alone with my mother and sisters. Beryl? You and Turq may take your leave, and await me in the dining chamber. I don’t suppose I could stand to eat any of that food, so you had better find something to do with it before my return. Is that understood?”

Beryl, barely able to maintain her act of distress for want of a good laugh, quickly bowed to her mistress, and rounded about Turq’s trembling body. She snatched her tail up into her teeth, and without another word, dragged the mare away to a side door leading deeper into the Countess’ apartments.

Adagio smiled as they disappeared through the door. Surely, the two could find a way to forgive her that scolding after their fifth helping of custard cake. Her mirth was only half-lived, however. For, not even a full ten seconds passed after she dismissed them both before she heard her mother gasp.

“Adagio Dazzle Glow!”

The golden mare winced, dreading whatever scolding she was now about to claim for herself.

“Yes, mother?” she sighed, turning about to face the aged mare.

“The veil for this diadem. Where is it? And don't you dare tell me you've lost it!”

Adagio sank even deeper into her purple frills.

“Mother, it is rather old fashioned. Only the older ladies of the court wear—”

“Poppycock!” the Baroness exclaimed. “Your accouterments are provided for you by the royal family. You shall wear every last piece; is that clear? Now where is it?”

Straightening her back, lifting her chin ever so slightly, Adagio passed her mother a stubborn but submissive glare.

“Yes, mother,” she groaned. “It is in my chest.”

Without wasting another moment, the golden unicorn’s horn glowed a ruby red as she, again, dug back into the large chest sitting in the chifferobe across the room. Her mind flashed back to the earlier incident that had taken place between Violet and herself, and strangely enough, part of her felt glad that it had happened. Surely, her mother’s hawk-like eyes would have immediately spotted the physician’s spell in the vial from a mile away had it still been there. In the meantime, Violet shifted about anxiously in her own dresses. No doubt she had been thinking the same thing, and it had made her equally as uncomfortable.

After rummaging about within the chest for a few moments, at last, a fine, transparent length of sparkling, purple fabric came floating out and across the room. Reluctantly, Adagio allowed the cloth to fall into her mother’s silver beam of magic.

“Isn't that lovely?” the Baroness murmured to herself. Turning about to eye Moonstone who was currently trying her best not to snicker. “Moonstone, help your sister with this at once.”

“Y-yes, mother!” the youngest Glow exclaimed with a quick curtsy before snatching up the two pieces in a green glow, and racing toward her frilly sibling.

Adagio smirked at the mare. How quickly Moonstone seemed to lose her nerve as soon as their mother beckoned her. What a phony.

“Now, hold still, Gio,” the younger mare murmured as she approached. “This shall hurt me far more than it shall hurt you.” Then carefully, she opened the red velvet jewelry box with her magic, and pulled from it a gorgeous diadem, decorated in purple and gold pointed rays. Raising it high above Adagio’s head, she opened its clasp, and slowly pushed it on. When the golden mare again lifted her head, every eye in the room sparkled in reverence.

“Oh, Adagio...” the Baroness gasped. “It suits you well.”

“She resembles the sun doesn’t she?” Violet murmured. It seemed that even she could not help but crack a smile of admiration.

Wanting very much not to tarnish the piece with the veil floating about in her magic, Moonstone bit her lip, and allowed the fabric to float gently onto the top of her elder sister’s head. Immediately, the youngest mare’s smile faltered.

“Hmph… Not quite the same effect, is it?” she snorted, doing her best to hold in another great laugh.

“I knew it!” Adagio exclaimed with a roll of her eyes. “It looks hideous!”

“Nonsense!” the Baroness cut in, marching forward, and shoving her youngest daughter out of the way. “It only needs a bit of adjusting is all.”

Adagio found it the most difficult thing to do to stand still whilst her head was being pulled to and fro in the midsts of her mother's magic. Not counting her wedding day, this was the most important moment of her entire life, and her nerves had been tested to their brink. Perhaps it was time for a little revenge.

“Stop fidgeting, Adagio, or I'll tear it!” the Baroness scolded as she continued to tug at her mane.

“I hear the two sisters are attending,” Adagio murmured, her hooves innocently clacking together. She held back a laugh when Violet’s head snapped about in her direction, the look upon her face completely mortified.

“Whaaaaaat!” the Baroness screamed, sparks exploding from her horn to light up the room like fireworks. “How did… Who told...”

The aged mare spun about to stare at her eldest daughter.

“Violet, what did you know of this?”

At first she felt slightly regretful, but now it gladdened Adagio’s heart to see her elder sister cower in such a manner.

“It is only hearsay, Mother, and nothing more! Please, calm down!” the mare tittered, her voice rattling.

“Bite your tongue, young lady! I will have none of your stories, today!” Starry exclaimed.

And now Moonstone was snickering. If only the unicorn court could witness such a fascinating sight: an aging Baroness telling a Duchess, well in her prime, what's what.

“Truly, Mother, I swear I do not know. It was simply a word or two that I have heard in passing from the Lord Vision. Nothing more!” Violet now looked as if she might burst into tears. “Please do not tell anypony. I believe he is the only one who has said such a thing. If it is not true, then he would be terribly cross with me for embarrassing him at court!”

The room descended into a tense silence as Starry studied her groveling daughter, her eyes peering and prodding, searching for any traces of a lie. Unable to verify such a thing, she huffed to herself.

“That Lord of yours,” she snarled. “If he would spend half as much time learning to bite his tongue as he does running his mouth…”

She trailed off, unwilling to finish for the sake of her daughter’s honor.

“Very well. Still, if it is a possibility, then it is imperative that you look absolutely perfect,” Starry muttered below her breath, turning to face Adagio once more. Rushing forward, she reared up the hems of her silver robes, and shoved up her sleeves. “Let me have another go at that veil!”

“Mother, no!” both Moonstone and Adagio protested just in time for the guardspony to clear his throat, and let loose yet another bellowing cry from the outer hall.

“Pree-sen-ting the Right Honorable, the Earl of Sardhoof!”

Everypony froze mid step. All eyes went wide.

“Lord Goldenstalks? Here? Now?” Moonstone hissed, looking quite confused.

“W-w-why this is... most irregular,” the Baroness stuttered as she moved to straighten her daughters’ robes with her magic. She then bowed low to the ground and stayed there.

Moonstone, being outranked by the Earl, followed suit by her mother's side. Only Adagio and Violet remained standing by the time Upright barged through the door, looking about the chamber boredly as if there was no question at all that he belonged there.

“My Lord,” both the Baroness and Moonstone chirped in tandem, never moving from their positions. The Lord Goldenstalks calmly sauntered past them, not even offering them a hoof, much less a passing glance. Instead, his eyes locked with Violet’s, and he made haste to approach her, nodding his head in respect as she offered him her hoof.

“Duchess,” he greeted her curtly after taking her hoof in his, and giving it the customary kiss.

“I am most unfortunate on this happiest of days, Earl,” Violet tittered, passing the regally belted and cloaked stallion a smile. “For it is the last that you shall be required to offer me such pleasantries.”

Lord Goldenstalks, not being one for what he deemed ‘useless small talk,’ cocked a brow. An unenthusiastic moan rattled about somewhere within his chest.

“Yes, well. Such is the life we lead, My Lady,” he sighed, directing his icy blue gaze about the room. It eventually fell upon Moonstone and her mother who were teetering uncomfortably in their bowed stances. Waving his hoof, the Earl finally bid them to stand.

“Yes, yes. Rise, rise,” he stated impatiently. “You needn’t destroy your gowns for my sake, Baroness.”

At last, his piercing eyes fell upon his wife. She forced a smile at him, taking the opportunity to give him a curtsy even though he was the last pony she wished to see at the moment. She eyed him nervously as his scrutinizing gaze never left the top of her head.

“My Lord,” she murmured sweetly, edging a bit closer.

“What in Bullion’s name is that thing atop your head?” he clucked, using his magic to snatch the veil away. Adagio, not knowing whether to feel slightly ashamed or utterly vindicated in the presence of her meddling mother, stammered for words.

“I… Well, it is a veil, My Lord,” she began quietly. “It is customary to wear it, you see, when—”

“Nonsense,” the Earl interrupted her, tossing the fine gossamer off somewhere to the side, and directing a foreleg from her head down to her hooves. “This should prove quite sufficient, I think.”

Never once did he appear to notice how radiantly she shone in all of her finery.

“Yes, My Lord,” Adagio muttered with another short curtsy. The resentment in her voice was clear. She didn't dare meet the gazes of her sisters lest she was egged on to say something to the Earl that she'd regret.

There was a beat of silence as they looked at one another. Upright appearing unmoved at first, and then, something within the frigid stallion seemed to shift. Could it be? Perhaps, indeed, he was now actually seeing his wife instead of just studying her as he was prone to do. Adagio could only wonder what type of miracle might have brought about such a reaction. Was it her diadem? The mare, feeling her bitterness melt away, passed him a coy smile. Her cheeks went warm.

“Is there something very important for which you have come to my chambers, My Lord?” she inquired, stroking her long, styled mane.

Sadly, this question snapped the Earl from whatever saccharine thoughts his unaccustomed mind had been attempting to form, and he quickly cleared his throat. Still, when he spoke, his gaze softened, his voice sounded a bit unsure of itself.

“Hm? Oh, yes, well, I… I simply wished to... ”

In that moment, Upright became aware of the many eager eyes now hungrily trained upon him, awaiting his next words with bated breath. Even Beryl and Turq had managed to pop their heads in through the dining chamber’s side door whilst chewing voraciously upon pieces of blueberry pie.

“Can a stallion have no sanctuary away from the prying eyes of mares?” he bellowed with a great flash of his horn. At once, Beryl and Turq again disappeared into the dining chamber whilst the Baroness and Moonstone straightened out their robes, and raced for the door. The both of them bowed low to the ground before turning to exit the room for good. Moonstone made doubly sure to pass her kin a wicked wink as the door was shutting behind her.

Violet, being Duchess, was free to take her time as she left the chamber. The Lord Goldenstalks, bound by the peerage, cleared his throat, and bowed his head in respect one last time.

“Duchess,” he murmured, smoothing a hoof over his sashes, “forgive my outburst.”

Violet nodded graciously in his direction. She daintily swept past the couple, and moved to walk to the stallion’s rear where she could pass her sister an unsmiling glare. Readjusting a fold of silk, she briefly flashed the physician's glass vial directly into Adagio’s line of sight as a warning, and was soon gone.

The Earl looked about nervously after everypony had departed, just to make sure that no one else had been unaccounted for.

“My Lord?” Adagio prodded, attempting to regain his attention.

“Ada, are you sure that it is wise to leave the servant fillies with your provision in that manner? I could have sworn I just spotted them eating—”

“My Lord,” Adagio repeated, reaching out to turn her husband's face toward her. “You were saying?”

This seemed to work quite well. Her hoof descended back to the floor, and even as it did, the Earl’s eyes remained trained solely upon her.

“Right, well,” he coughed—one might think he was suffering from a sore throat that day—“I wish to… to speak with you about a very important matter.”

And then he stood there, staring nervously at Adagio’s smiling face. A few seconds passed, and then twenty before the golden unicorn’s brow furrowed.

“Yes? What is it?” she inquired. Now she, too, was starting to feel nervous.

Spurred on by her persistence, the Earl took a deep breath. It was a rather charming show of vulnerability of a sort that Adagio had rarely seen from him. Fending off her desire to chuckle lest he hide his emotions away from her forever, she cleared her throat, and waited patiently instead.

“Right. Well, Ada, while I do respect your desire to be discreet about the entire matter, I daresay that such an occasion, needn’t require discretion. After all, he—” The Earl stammered, flashing a nervous smile at his wife, “or she, of course, would be our first, and… Well, I suppose that is reason for public celebration.”

As the stallion rambled on, Adagio felt herself becoming more and more confused. At last, after a good minute or so of this, she placed a hoof upon her husband's chest to quell his blubbering.

“Upright, what are you on about?” she sighed.

The Earl seemed regretful for everything he had just said. Now cross with himself, he stomped his hoof.

“Perhaps it would be better if I simply showed you.”

Using his magic to reach into an inner breast pocket, he pulled out what appeared to be a small, blue, velvet jewelry case. Without saying another word, he presented it for Adagio to open.

Flipping the lid with her own magic, the mare’s stomach sank when she saw what lay within: a jade green brooch designed into the shape of a proud, blooming hyacinth.

This pin, in this particular shade, depicting this particular flower, was a well known symbol amongst the nobles of Canterlot. It implied fertility, and was usually worn by expectant mothers-to-be of the peerage for the duration of their entire pregnancy. While the type of green stone used as well as the hyacinth’s design was changed to fit particular tastes, the message was always clear.

An aura of dread descended upon the Countess as she realized what was happening. Gulping down her panic, she forced an expression of utmost joy onto her face.

“Oh, Upright. It’s lovely,” she breathed, not having the gall to do anything but stare at the piece.

“That it is,” he huffed in relief, levitating the pin up into his magic. “It is my mother’s. She wore it whilst she was heavy with… well… with me.”

The pin floated toward Adagio’s chest.

“And now you shall do the same for our son… or daughter... of course.”

Adagio jolted back away from the pin and her husband’s haze of orange magic. Her eyes were wide with astonishment.

“Y-you wish for me to wear this to the Great Hall, My Lord?”

The Earl paused, not having expected the mare to retreat beyond his reach. Snorting a ridiculing laugh, he walked toward her again.

“But, of course. Why else would I gift this to you on such a day as this, Lady Countess?”

Again, Adagio rushed beyond his magic’s reach, this time looking anxious, very much out of sorts. The cool, calm demeanor she was trying to keep plastered onto her maw was quickly crumbling.

“Oh, really, Upright,” she tittered, choking on a very forced laugh. “Do you truly think it wise to... to…”

The apprehension in her voice made the Earl pause.

“Is something the matter?” he inquired, raising his chin, his icy eyes peering at her closely. Adagio’s first instinct was to recoil in his line of sight. Instead, she straightened her posture, lifted her head confidently, and cleared her throat.

“Of course not, My Lord,” she lied. Thinking quickly, she passed him another coy smile, and took a step forward to adjust the stallion’s collar, making sure not to use her magic, but instead, her dainty hoof. “However, do you think it wise to blend these two occasions together? Surely, doing so would diminish the joy of both. Wouldn't you agree?”

The Earl considered this for a moment.

“I tend to think not,” he quipped.

He moved to apply the pin once again. The Countess, overwhelmed with the magnitude of the trouble she had gotten herself into, again dodged out of the way. For just a moment, it occurred to her that perhaps the wisest thing to do would be to confess to her husband, explain everything to him, and hope for his mercy. It would be far easier to do now rather than if she were to embarrass him in front of the entire court in one month’s time.

The notion was tempting. It called to her to relinquish her secret. She was caught up in the fantasy it provided as, slowly, her mouth opened to speak the truth.

“M-my Lord, I… I must beg your forgiveness,” she stammered, taking another step back. “The truth is…”

She gazed into his eyes, seeing nothing but confusion therein.

“The truth is that I… I am not…”

The stallion’s brow creased again. His eyes now seemed to burn. It didn't take long for the golden mare to lose her nerve. She forced a tittering laugh, and flipped a loose curl out of her face.

“I aaaam... not quite sure I can withstand the pressures of the day,” she chirped. “It is the second most significant day of my entire life, as you know, and there is a rumor floating about that the two sisters shall attend. I don't suppose I could possibly bear any more attention than that.”

The stallion remained silent, studying her as he mulled over whatever thoughts were now racing through his head. Adagio passed him a faltering grin, praying that he would believe her tale. All hopes for this wish were dashed when she watched his expression curl into an annoyed grimace. They had been married going on four years now. She knew well what that look meant, and bowed her head in defeat as the pin held within her husband’s magic made its way in her direction.

“This isn't a request, Adagio,” he stated coldly, carefully pinning the jewel onto the left side of the mare’s collar. “You shall don this pin, and you shall soon find the ‘pressures of the day,’ as you put them, quickly disappearing behind a more fulfilling sense of maternal pride. You shall see.”

He approached her, inspecting every bit of her appearance as usual. When he gazed upon her reproaching frown, he reached forward with a hoof, and lifted her head high.

“Chin up,” he commanded. “And try putting on a smile, will you? I shan’t tolerate you looking as if you're attending my funeral.”

The Countess’ mind was ablaze, and for all her might, she could not hide the scorn in her eyes. Before her stood an Earl, this dull, overly serious, and cold stallion whom she had given up her entire life and all of her freedom for. Yet, for all her tireless efforts to provoke some sweet sentiment within him, to stir some passion and mercy for her in his heart, it always seemed that this Lord Goldenstalks would forever treat her as a means to an end more than he would ever feel inclined to treat her as a wife. Though the stallion did not lack perceptiveness, and there were times where she could clearly see him trying to emote for her sake, especially during moments one would think of as intimate, Upright’s well of sentimentality always ended up swiftly running dry.

It drove Adagio mad that she should have to subject herself, as brilliant as she was, to the likes of him and his commands, all because she would forever lack the power to be his equal. Day by day, she found herself growing more resentful of him, even as she continued to hope that on yet another day things might change for the better.

She had grown to love the Earl once upon a time. Now, she only felt constant heartbreak and confusion. It was all suffocating, killing her slowly, and like any creature trapped against its will, she longed for her freedom from him; she longed to leave him before her resentment eventually grew into raging despise. For all the things that he had said and done, she still did not wish to hate him.

Still, on today of all days he would choose to do this to her, and she wanted payment, something, anything, for the sheer humiliation that would eventually come of it all. Her mind landed upon her sister Violet’s threats, and she resolved herself to addressing the matter that very instant. After all, Upright always demanded obedience and perfection from her when it came to upholding the Goldenstalks household and its members. Why couldn't she seek benefit for her own kin as well?

As the Earl leaned in, and jutted a hoof forward to adjust her hyacinth pin, Adagio studied his face, waiting for the perfect opportunity to speak. Realizing after a few seconds that when it came to Upright there probably would be no perfect opportunity, she cleared her throat and took a deep breath.

“I was hoping to speak with you as well.”

“Is that right?” the Earl hummed, barely paying her any attention in lieu of adjusting her pin. “What about?”

“Well, you see,” she continued on, flicking a lock of mane back over her shoulder, “it has again been brought to my attention that you have yet to send aid or reinforcements to Edinbridle.”

The Earl’s gaze quickly darkened, and his hoof dropped away from Adagio’s collar. Straightening his back so that he towered over her, he passed his wife a disdainful sneer. Despite all of this, somehow the mare managed to power on.

“My Lord understands the precarious times in which we live. Edinbridle’s innocents suffer. The kingdom suffers, and we are Vision’s closest and strongest allies.”

As sensible as her words were, the Countess simply could not break through her husband’s chilly exterior, a fact that worked to annoy her greatly. She returned his irritated sneer in kind, and edged forward to boldly prod at his chest.

“One would think that on such a joyous occasion, an Earl of Sardhoof and the new Duke of Buckston would be capable of finding it within himself to extend some of his grace and kindness upon his peers… his very family, no less!”

“Violet has put you up to this, hasn’t she?” Upright inquired calmly, cocking a brow. “Again, begging aid on behalf of her husband, I see. And you, Ada, attempting to play both sides of the fence, as usual.”

Adagio recoiled with indignation.

“And why shouldn't I?” she huffed. “Am I not family and friend to both? As are you?”

“Ada, I shan't have a discussion such as this with the likes of you,” the Earl sighed, refusing to take the mare’s frustration seriously.

“The likes of…” Adagio gasped, donning a grin of disbelief. “Oh, I see. I understand clearly now. I am only worthy of relaying messages that suit me, and miraculously doing it as much as possible with my mouth shut.”

Her magic sparked to flip the front of her gown down straight, snapping the cloth and allowing it to make a loud, startling ‘pop’. She dared face the Earl with a wide-eyed, furious gaze of her own. Upright remained unmoved.

“If I am able to make concession for you and your pin despite my hesitations, then I cannot see why you are unable to do the same for me, your wife, on what is surely a far more important matt—”

“The only important matter is whatever I deem the important matter to be,” Upright hissed, stomping his hoof. It would seem that he had finally lost his temper. “There is no compromise if I do not will it, there is no concession, there is no discussion. Your opinions on politics and war, Ada, are inconsequential to me.”

The mare stood there looking quite stunned. Never before had her husband been so brash with her, and his making her subjection so embarrassingly clear between them both only worked to make her feel like a fool. Her lips bumbled about as she searched for some form of clever retort. Upright beat her to it.

“I understand that you are a defiant pony, as am I. You are of quality, you are educated, and you are respected amongst many of your peers, as am I. But alas, Ada, I am Earl, and I shall soon be Duke, and those things are things you could never attain alone. Not as you… are.” The stallion directed a hoof at her entire body; the implication was clear. “Perhaps, instead of entertaining this futile attempt to defy me, you should try resigning yourself to your position like so many other mares would be willing to do if put in your place.”

Adagio’s eyes snapped open wide, and her head rose to stare at the Earl. What did he mean by mentioning ‘other willing mares’? Was he threatening her as well? First Violet and now this. So much for the bonds of family.

“W-what are you saying Upright?” she inquired, trying to decipher the truths hidden in his eyes. “What ‘other mares’?”

A strange look passed over the stallion. Though he did not smile, he seemed far too eager to settle into witnessing his wife’s discomfort.

“You worry about your power and position, and go about it all in the wrong ways. It surprises me, because I would have pegged you as being far more intelligent than that,” the Earl sighed, shaking his head. “Worry yourself about what is asked of you, Ada. Nothing more. Obsess yourself with the matter of our son. It is only he who can give you the undisputed love and prestige that you seek. Fail to do these things, and it should not come as a surprise when others, wish to dispute your position.”

Adagio stood before him, her jaw hanging open in shock. She was confused, furious, terrified. The Earl was very good with encouraging these emotions within her in his own devious way. His calm demeanor provoked her, and he knew it. He was a clever stallion and a savant with his words. He used them to expertly imply horrible consequences, to plant seeds of doubt within her own mind whilst he himself remained blameless. He regularly chided her for her growing paranoia, and was slow to admit that he was the reason she was often paranoid. He made her question her position, his love, and his faithfulness almost as if he could see clearly her own guilt and unfaithfulness. He forced her to feel like a failure for being emotional and having a temper. Worst of all, he was adept at convincing her into believing that he was always right about her shortcomings.

“The sooner you learn to accept these things, Ada, the happier you shall be. You will see in time that I am right.”

Her entire body shook with offense, as if it wanted to leap beyond itself from the sheer indignity of it all. Attempting to huff out the fire in her chest, she forced herself back up to her hooves, though they trembled terribly.Her pride, her intelligence no longer mattered in that moment. Swallowing the flame that roared inside of her until it drowned itself in her belly, she lowered her head, sighed out the smoke, and nodded obediently. Stepping forward to stand before him, making absolutely sure to keep her gaze directed at the floor, she then cleared her throat.

“I understand now, My Lord. Forgive my outburst. I am a bit out of sorts today.”

Even without looking, she could feel the smug smile the Earl was now wearing. Giving her a satisfied nod of his own, he looked her over once more.

“You are forgiven,” he stated. “I acknowledge that your nerves may be getting the better of you.”

The stallion lifted his chin, and turned about to stand by her side. He inspected and straightened his own uniform before glancing over toward his wife who was sulking and looking rather distant.

“Ada, what have I told you about smiling?” he sighed, rubbing his temples.

As if she were under his spell, the mare’s smile instantly grew wide and beaming, though she could not hide the dark truth burning in her deadened eyes. The Earl presented to her his foreleg, bidding her to take it.

“Shall we?”

Adagio instinctively curtsied. Her teeth gritted and ground together as she attempted to force pleasant words through them.

“Yes, My Lord. I would love nothing more,” she hissed before ambling forward beside him, toward the chamber door.

As they stood before the threshold, awaiting the guardspony to allow them through, Adagio couldn't help but dwell on how much she wanted to distance herself from the Earl. In that moment, she disliked his musk, those striking eyes of his that always dug into one’s heart, the stiff, unnatural feel of his foreleg as he held hers. Doing her best not to cringe, she forced herself to face him, lest she give these thoughts room to fester and turn into hatred. Above all, she must not learn to hate him.

“My Lord… err… Upright?” she murmured just as she heard the guardspony shuffling about beyond the threshold.

“Yes?” the stallion inquired, looking curious, and surprisingly, quite innocent. This managed to momentarily soften the stone that had become Adagio’s heart, and she passed him a sweet smile.

“I love you,” she murmured, wishing so very badly that she meant it. She searched him again for some sign of tenderness, some small affection… anything.

Clearing his throat and averting his gaze back toward his front, the Earl seemed a little less than comfortable. His cheeks went a slight tinge of red. It wasn’t much, but at least it was something.

“Yes, well, Ada,” the stallion blubbered, now gone a bit wide-eyed. “I...erm...I... suppose that I... feel the same.”

The Countess’ smile faltered. She doubted the stallion’s ability to even comprehend what love was. Remembering herself, she quickly forced her grin wide again, and turned to face front. She could now only imagine how much they, as a pair, probably resembled a picture of complete perfection. As the two listened to the tables and chairs of their families and in-laws shifting and turning about in the salon and antechamber beyond the doorway, they both supposed that, perhaps, at least for this occasion, they could pretend to be perfect, indeed.

“Pree-sen-ting the Right Honorable, the Earl and Countess of Sardhoof!”

———

“I can feel you, now. I know you can hear me. You are close, aren’t you?”

“...And who are you?” Adagio whispered to herself. Everything before her eyes was awash in swirls of color. Her head reeled, and her insides all felt hot. Unaware of her surroundings she never noticed her sister edging up close to her, looking at her slack jawed expression with suspicion.

“Gio? Are you alright?”

“We have come to Canterlot castle to see you. Only you.”

“Why?” Adagio blubbered to herself, eyes still glazed and directed toward some dark distant corner. “Out of my head. Do you not know that drawing out the wits of a noble by means of magic is a capital offen… a capital off...”

“Gio, what the blazes are you blubbering to yourself about?” Moonstone whispered, placing a hoof upon her sister’s shoulder.

“There are many in this world who do not adhere to your unicorn law, many who were here long before your kind ever existed. Still, if I have offended you, I do apologize. It was not my intention.”

“Not… your…”

“Gio! Look at me!” Moonstone hissed, cuffing the golden unicorn back into consciousness with a hoof to the side of her head.

Adagio’s eyes snapped open wide, and her head darted about for a moment as she attempted to remember where she was. The space around them was wide and dim save for the soft, afternoon light that lined the lengthy stone corridor to her left. At her right sat a grand, double door. That’s right. They had come down to the corridor outside of the grand hall to await the beginning of their peerage ceremony. From beyond the grand display of oak wood, she could hear the excited chatter of the enormous audience within.

“Goodness, Adagio. What was all that about? Are you feeling ill? Was it the cider?” Moonstone inquired, touching her sister’s forehead. The Countess pulled away, gratefully shaking her head.

“I… I am well, Moon,” she lied, shaking the odd sensation of magical residue from her head. “I was only thinking.”

Ignoring the perturbed frown her younger sister was passing her, Adagio allowed her gaze to drift over to where her husband now stood next to his accompaniment for his audience with the king and queen. It was to be expected that Prance would serve as the Earl’s honor guard during the ceremony, considering that the Lighthoof family had served as knights in the Goldenstalks household for two generations.

Adagio smiled inwardly to herself as she watched her beloved white stallion straightening out her husband’s uniform. He nudged him playfully in the shoulder as the two conversed. Every now and then, his eyes would dart her way, and then inevitably, down toward the green pin that shone brightly upon her collar before he looked away. A guilty feeling tugged at her heart when she noticed the consistent pain in his eyes. He was angry, and yet doing his best to hide it through forced laughter and pleasantries. Adagio wished she could tell him the truth of the entire matter right then and there, but knew that it would be impossible.

“Vision is sitting in the aisle, by the way,” Prance laughed, leaning in close to Upright. “Say the word, My Lord, and I’ll be sure to fly the Goldenstalks banner directly up his nostrils as you pass him by.”

Moonstone, who was serving as Adagio’s escort for the ceremony, let off a grand guffaw.

“Oh, please do it, Lighthoof,” she chortled, never noticing the exasperated glares they were both receiving from the Earl. “I’d give my inheritance to see the look on Violet’s face after something like that.”

“Moonstone,” Adagio chided the younger mare, shaking her head to signal to her that perhaps now was not the perfect time for her antics.

Upright pulled himself out of Prance’s grasp, flinging the knight’s foreleg off from where it was wrapped about his shoulders.

“That won’t be necessary, Lighthoof,” he sighed, dusting his uniform clean. “I’d like it better if the proceedings were to pass as quickly as possible.”

He turned to face the double doors of the great hall when he heard the trumpets blaring beyond them.

“To be perfectly honest, I’ve never much liked these sort of… festivities. This amount of pomp and ingenuine pleasantry hardly seems necessary, wouldn't you agree?”

Prance’s lively, purple eyes cut in Adagio’s direction.

“Yes, well, if only we were all as adept with defining ‘pleasantry,’ as you were, My Lord,” he muttered. Adagio hung her head, and dared not look at him. The sound of his chuckling only made her feel more uncomfortable. What a mess this day was turning out to be.

Placing a hoof over her lips, eventually, the golden mare cleared her throat and stepped forward. It would be for the best if they all acted hastily before things between them turned too sour to hide.

“Alright, Lighthoof, you jester. That will be quite enough of that,” she chirped, taking the white stallion by the shoulder, and turning him ‘round to face front by her husband’s side. Then, pulling Moonstone to her own side, she smoothed her robes out, and stood straight. Two maidservants of the castle, both unknown to Adagio, pulled the trains of their gowns out, and then silently retreated back into their shadowy corners.

“Let's get a move on, then,” Moonstone tittered, nodding for the guardsponies standing at attention by the double doors to open them up. “The sooner this is all finished, the sooner I shall be able to drink myself silly on cider and dance a proper La Colta.”

Adagio grimaced. Prance snorted to keep from laughing. Upright ignored them all as he continued to fuss with his uniform.

“And there it is,” the Countess sighed. “I was wondering how long it would take for you to say something completely inappropriate, Moonstone.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, sister,” the younger mare jested. “I have never said a single inappropriate thing in my entire life.”

“It is a commoner’s dance,” Adagio pressed.

“It is in fashion these days,” Moonstone quipped.

“Allow me to guess which portion of it is your favourite, My Lady,” Prance chortled, ignoring the golden mare’s protestations.

“The portion where I allow a complete stranger to air out the underside of this ridiculous dress, of course,” the brash, purple mare retorted, taking the opportunity to give the knight a good cuff on his flank.

“Of course,” Prance replied, extending his hind leg to cuff her back.

The younger mare gasped, and burst out into a fit of giggles.

“For that, Lighthoof, you shall be my first victim at the ball this evening. Just you wait and see!”

“By Bullion, you two are like children!” Adagio hissed, as she broke in between the two to separate their foalish bickering.

Outside of the hall’s enormous windows, the late afternoon sky was clear. Thankfully, there were still enough money-loving pegasi in the kingdom for the royals to request that they make the day a pleasant one. However, this was the extent to which all niceties with the pegasi went unless they were part of the king’s own guard. Even then, the great hall was void of them considering the dangerous circumstances of the times. Be it cruel or precautionary, today, it was strictly forbidden for pegasi to be present in the hall, now packed with gentry and nobles from all over the land, lest any one of the winged ones decide to prove themselves a traitor to the unicorn king or an assassin to any one of his unicorn subjects. Still, through the grand glass windows of the great hall, one could easily see the entire flock of them calmly preening their feathers whilst sitting upon the great lawn, and passing their grim, scornful glares toward the spectators inside. The sight of them was rather eerie, and set the entire palace on edge. It proved a good distraction when the Earl and Prance finally entered into the room.

From where she stood behind the opened doorway, Adagio could still make out the beauty of the great hall, and the almost ethereal, white, glow that emanated from the raised platform to the front of the room where the king and queen awaited them. Up in the balcony, and off to the left behind a meshed screen sat two shadowy figures, their silhouettes brandishing both horns and wings: the two sisters. When the golden king Bullion beckoned her husband and his guard forward, both hidden alicorns stirred, and turned themselves upon their cushions.

Suddenly, Adagio felt her knees go weak. Her eyes could not be drawn away from the lofty platform. There was a strange heat that crawled over her as she looked at the two shadows up there, the taller one in particular. It seeped up her hind legs, through her belly, past her chest and settled into her cheeks feeling like a flame. The world slowed around her. She could hear voices as tones: the booming, jovial intonations of Bullion as he welcomed the new Duke with honorifics, and the calm, deep sounds of her husband’s voice as he boredly went through the motions of replying. All the while, the one significant figure in her mind remained the silhouette of the elder alicorn sister.

“Ah. So, there you are,” the young mare’s lighthearted voice rattled through Adagio’s skull. It was the same voice she had been hearing upon entering the grand corridor a few moments prior. “I've wanted very much to know if it was true.”

She looked around, wondering if anypony else had heard it. Moonstone passed her a perplexed look upon seeing the deep rose in her cheeks.

“Gio?” she murmured, reaching out to touch her sister’s foreleg.

Adagio, too consumed with the experience, turned back about to look at the balcony, ignoring her kin.

“I… if it was true?” she stammered out loud, now drawing the attention of the two maidservants standing a few steps away.

The voice in her head chuckled lightly to itself.

“I have dreamt that you were very beautiful. I simply wanted to see for myself… You are.”

Increasingly, the feeling of desperation began to fester and grow within her. Something about the enchanted voice’s quality put her at edge, as pleasant as it sounded otherwise. It felt as if she was being threatened, but she knew not why. The fleeting ghost of thoughts she had never thought, memories she had never experienced, began to flash across her mind's eye. Something about… somepony’s white flank… the ornate image of a shining sun… castle ruins…

“Lies,” the Countess dared to hiss, drawing a few strange looks from the spectators sitting near the door in the back rows of the grand hall. “You two have come to… to…”

“Oh, no. Not again,” Moonstone groaned. “Gio, what are you on about, now?” Her eyes darted about as more ponies began to glimpse the spectacle beyond the doorway. The Lady’s eyes were directed upward, lips moving as she stood there frozen and flushed.

A strange moon… an old, gray unicorn and his funny, purple hat… a rainbow in the sky… the sound of screaming, wailing, lamentation.

“Do you feel threatened by my sister and me?” the voice inquired.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Adagio replied quietly, trying her best to sound imposing. “Why are you showing me these things? What is their meaning? Answer me.”

“I'm afraid I am able to see and know only that which you have seen and known,” the voice sighed. “I am not showing these things to you. You are seeing them because we are learning of one another.”

Adagio grimaced.

“Learning of…” She trailed off, shaking her curls in frustration. “Out of my head, with all due respect. Do not continue to torture me this way.”

She received no reply.

In that moment, it didn't matter that somehow the Lady knew that she was speaking with the eldest of the revered alicorn sisters. Animosity for them had been born within her. She knew not why or what she was meant to do with the emotion, but it was pungent and heavy, enough that she could taste it.

“Ponies are looking!” Moonstone hissed, stepping beyond her sister to partially block view of her through the doorway. She absolutely could not let anypony else see whatever sudden madness her elder kin had come down with, especially not the royal family… especially not the new Duke Goldenstalks. Dabbing at the sweat upon the elder mare’s golden brow, she continued speaking to her in a hushed voice.

“Gio…Now is not the time for this…”

“Lady of the Sardhoof?” the voice in Adagio’s head echoed, blotting out whatever sounds her younger sister was making. Its tone had lost its jovial quality. This time, it successfully filled the golden mare with a sense of dread. “It appears that we are out of time, and yet there is so much more on which we should speak. You shall permit me a dance at the ball.”

“Th-that is far too bold of you, don’t you think so, My… Lady… My…” Adagio stuttered, leaning her body forward and jutting her chin up in the direction of the balcony.

“Celestia,” the voice replied. “I am Celestia, and my sister is Luna. This is what you may call us for now.”

At the front of the hall, the new Duke Upright Goldenstalks of Buckston had risen, and stepped aside to the sound of fanfare and hoof stomping. The king turned to return to his throne, and as he did so, Queen Corona, a magnificent, pale blue mare with a horn that looked as fine and brilliant as carved diamond, rose from hers.

Moonstone gawked in terror. She was out of time.

“Adagio, stop it! Look at me, right this instant!” she hissed shaking her sister’s shoulder, and then rushing to stand by her side.

All heads were now turning to face them where they stood in the doorway, Upright’s included.

“Celestia,” Adagio blurted rather loudly as she watched the figure behind the screen in the stands flutter its wings and settle back down into its sitting cushion.

“Worry not, Lady Sardhoof. In time, we three shall eke out the steps of our own dance.”

Adagio was rocked from her glamor. The haze fell away as a dream might if one were to receive a swift cuff to the chest. The sweat on her brow began to cool. Her eyes began to focus. Her chin lowered. She looked out into the immense hall at the confused—and amused—glares she was now receiving. Upright was grinding his teeth behind tightened lips as he glared daggers into her. The gentle, all-forgiving smile of the queen was the only thing that managed to set her taxed mind at ease amidst all of this distress. It was decided then: At once, Adagio made the kingdom’s matriarch her beacon.

“Countess Sardhoof,” Corona began, a soft beam of white light escaping from her horn, “approach the throne.”

Hearing fanfare calling them forward, Moonstone touched the back of her sister’s foreleg, and breathed a sigh of relief when their eyes met. Adagio passed her a tired nod, and together they stepped forward through the doorway.

Author's Note

Moonstone is best pony. ADMIT IT.

Anyway, I'm seeing now that Adagio's chapters are really going to be packed full of my explaining thoughts and emotion which means that it might take a while to actually push the plot along since nobody is just saying what they really mean because they're all snooty and fake, y'know? It seems so obvious now that that would happen, but I never even considered it before. :raritydespair:

The Gilded Cage

“Congratulations, Adagio! Alas, a foal! How overjoyed you must be!”

“Yes. Very much so,” Adagio tittered to the two teenaged ponies before her, one a young mare and the other a stallion. “The Duke and I are most fortunate, and I am most content.”

She took a moment to sip from a small goblet of cider that otherwise floated overhead in a beam of her magic. Her eyes cut across the ballroom’s crowd, and in that moment, a few things became clear to her: Firstly, only an hour into the post-ceremonial festivities, and Moonstone was already blitzed. Presently, she was stumbling about the center of the ballroom, hanging onto the shoulders of Lighthoof whilst trying to escape the conversation of one of her little nieces, a daughter of Violet’s. The white knight, somehow looking both amused and mortified at the same time, was attempting to drag her out toward the garden, probably for some fresh air. All along the way, his eyes locked with Adagio’s.

Don't you dare forget me, she imagined him saying. We have unfinished business to discuss.

“We’re so very embarrassed. Had we known, we would have definitely thought of a more fitting gift!” the teenage mare, Vista Vision, blabbered on to her distracted aunt. “Victor insisted on pearls as if you might not have had enough of those already. I told him that ponies with such superior tastes as ours couldn't be bothered with trinkets like that.”

The two never noticed Adagio rolling her eyes at them, far too busy with passing each other spiteful glances.

“I would have gotten you something in silk, and a lovely pink cotton… like the shade of my mane!” the vain young mare clucked with a flip of her long locks.

After passing her a disingenuous grin, this time Adagio’s eyes drifted toward one roiling corner of the ballroom where her sister Violet stood amongst her other five chattering, stomping, merrymaking children; Lord Vision had left her to the timberwolves, as usual. The distressed mare’s snow white mane had again fallen out of place whilst the gang of adolescents pulled and tugged at her gown. Her pearly pink eyes bore themselves into Adagio with fury from clear across the room, and her head strained in the direction of the refreshments table. The mare was angry, but what else was new? More importantly, she was trying to direct her attention toward something.

Glancing over toward the table, the newly made Duchess caught an eyeful of the most disturbing of scenes. ‘Round the refreshments, and floating about Upright where he stood boredly conversing with some old stiff coat, were a small collection of servants, one particularly bored-looking guard who stood a comfortable distance away with his eyes trained upon the food, a few scholarly youths intent on eavesdropping on conversations which were not their own, and lastly, a buxom collection of young and eligible noblemares. All of them were gorgeous, their teeth were pearly white. The Duchess could tell, of course, since they were all trying their damndest to gain the Duke’s attentions by laughing as loud as possible in response to commentary everypony knew for a fact wasn’t funny in the slightest.

Adagio scoffed, raised a brow, and took another sip from her cup. This all was to be expected she supposed.

Good luck, you throne-hungry harpies. You'd better your chances with the likes of Upright if you sewed an antique map of the Everfree and two gold bits to your hems.

Her eyes shifted back toward Violet who, upon seeing her sister’s lack of reaction, became even more incensed.

“Reinforcements!” she silently mouthed in Adagio’s direction. “Take care of it!”

Then again… perhaps Upright was worth a second look this evening. After all, this new surge of opportunistic ponies that, expectedly, all congregated themselves around Dukes such as he certainly weren’t ever something to ignore.

Her temperature began to rise. Just as she was urging herself to relax, she witnessed one rather bold and lovely pink earth mare clear her throat, and saddle up next to the Duke’s side. Naturally, she earned herself one of his most confounded of icy glares. Alas, this mare seemed more than determined.

Adagio’s goblet nearly tumbled from her magic.

And just who does that strutting innuendo think she is, exactly?

“A… Adagio? Are you alright? You look… sickly suddenly,” Vista mentioned somewhere amongst the background din the Duchess was currently ignoring.

“Do expectant mothers do that at times?” Victor muttered to his sister below his breath. “Turn all purple in the face that way, I mean.”

This statement quickly earned him a discreet kick in the hind quarters.

“Shut up, you idiot,” Vista growled, urging him to be silent. “You're upsetting her.”

The Duchess didn't hear this either. She watched on amidst a livid heat as the pink mare slowly leaned in toward Upright, beckoning him closer with one perfectly dainty hoof so that she might whisper something into his ear.

“Tart!”

Adagio’s goblet went clattering onto a silver tray carried by a passing servant. The Vision siblings both gasped in shock at the sound.

“Y-your Grace?” Vista called out to the Duchess as she stomped away, blinded and deafened by fury. Coughing out her pardons as she shoved past finely dressed pony after pony, Adagio kept her sights locked on that stupid, gorgeous pink mare, and her stupid, stupid deep pink mane which, if all went according to plan, would go unraveling to the floor amongst bursts of ruby-hued magic in mere moments. If she happened to be feeling generous by the time she reached the dessert trays, perhaps she might decide against lighting the mare’s dresses aflame as well.

To be honest, in her rush, she couldn’t decipher what the source of her anger actually was. Perhaps it was the threat of being deposed. Then again, maybe it was the ridiculous amount of audacity it took for anypony to believe themselves her equal in beauty, brains, or talent. Surely, it couldn’t be that she was jealous. As things stood, there was hardly any quality of note within the Duke to be jealous for.

His face was now doing that thing it did when he felt caught off guard. Was that a tinge of red she could now see in his cheeks? No, she had to have been imagining things.

Oh, two sisters save me. He's stuttering.

The pink mare was now attempting to draw the Duke away from the table toward one of the many sizeable doors lining the ballroom. Adagio had never before explored the winding hallways beyond Canterlot castle’s ballroom doors. Yet, considering the numerous tales of suspiciously hasty weddings or lengthy vacations in the country that followed these cider and sweet-fueled castle soirees, one could make a decent guess about the types of things that took place in that “dark and shadowy” beyond.

A few more steps until she could reach out and touch him. Adagio felt her horn beginning to glow…

No you don’t, you silly little—

A strong foreleg caught her about the middle, hooked her into a tight embrace, and dragged her back out into the ballroom fray. She gasped, wondering who might dare to act so boldly toward her. When her gaze sank into a deep, purple pair of eyes, the shock quickly fell away.

“Is it true?” Prance murmured as he held her, cautiously feigning a slow step. The look in his eye was dark, brooding, furious.

“Lighthoof, now is not the time.” Adagio’s eyes darted toward the Duke as she saw him hesitantly pulling away from the pink mare. Naturally, the lovely earth pony playfully protested, and as they both turned, for just a moment, their eyes trained themselves upon Adagio and Lighthoof. The Duke’s expression as he looked at Prance’s sorrowful face was a confused one. The pink mare by his side worriedly leaned in to whisper something to him as she looked Adagio over. This time, the Duke’s expression calmed into a calculating one, as if something had just occurred to him.

“You're being reckless, Lighthoof. Release me! He can see us!”

“What reason do I have to care any longer? Has he not already won?” the white stallion pressed, sounding as if he wished Adagio would choke on his sarcasm.

Still staring off toward the Duke, she witnessed the beautiful creature by his side mouth something else to him. Whatever it was, it must have been quite convincing, because only a few moments later, they both disappeared through the farthest door of the ballroom.

“I must leave!” she protested, trying to tug her hoof out of the crook of Prance’s foreleg.

“No, Adagio! You tell me right now!” the white stallion persisted. “Is it true? Are you...”

“Lighthoof, please. You are putting us both in very grave danger,” she pleaded, choosing to relax into his grip and force a fake smile so as not to draw suspicion. “I will speak with you later on in the evening. I swear it. Just give me a few moments…”

From the refreshments table, she could now very clearly see her sister, Violet, peering at her from behind a hefty goblet of cider. There was something toxic in the purple mare’s gaze, something unquestionably spiteful.

I realize, Violet! One moment!

“The garden, Adagio. One hour,” Prance hissed, not even bothering to force a friendly smile of his own. “If you do not show, I shall be sure to collect assignment and make haste back to Greenwaters this very evening.”

Adagio froze, her eyes locked with his. She looked wounded and momentarily void of all other cares.

“Why do you threaten me this way?” she chuckled without smiling. “Lighthoof, tell me you do not mean it.”

“I grow weary of these games, Gio. It is time for you to decide what path your life shall take. Otherwise, you are only torturing us all, the Duke included,” the stallion groaned as he took a step away from her.

“Lighthoof, you are mad,” Adagio hissed, leaning in close. “I’ve told you many times before that I could never... It is a foolish and foalish dream, this plan of yours. Get it out of your head!”

The stallion said nothing at first. Instead, he passed her a wistful glare whilst turning to leave.

“One hour.”

He was stopped by the gentle tug of magic upon his tail. Turning about to catch the golden mare’s eye, his gaze softened when he noticed an indescribable look of pain plastered across her face. Nothing was said between them for a moment. Eventually, Adagio bowed her head, and gulped down the lump stuck in her throat.

“I swear it. One hour,” she squeaked.

Prance smirked.

“From the looks of it, your ‘infallible’ marriage may require some immediate rescuing, but not the sort that any knight could provide, I fear,” he spat. “Run along now. Go salvage whatever is left of it.”

Gazing toward the floor in shame, she listened to these words and then to his hooves as they walked away across the marble tiles.

It took a moment to compose herself. Soon, the music started up again, washing her away amongst a sea of swirling gowns and laughing faces. Blindly making her way toward the door where the Duke and his “friend” had disappeared, she pushed her way through into the darkness, and gratefully allowed all thoughts of her sisters, her mother, the growing conflicts across the kingdom, and even Prance to fade from her mind.

Leaning up against a wall, shrouded in shadow, she bowed her head, and took a few deep breaths.

At what point had moments made of inner peace and quiet power become foreign to her? She was a Duchess, was she not? This was all that she had ever wanted as a child, and yet now she felt more than ever as if she was being swept away by stormy winds like some common nopony. None of this was the way things were supposed to be, but if only she could put a hoof on who was to blame. Who was it that had brought such havoc down upon her? Had it been her mother? The Duke? Lighthoof? Had it all been her own doing?

“Feh. Ridiculous,” she muttered to herself in the dark.

Crouching down against the towering stone, Adagio fought off the sensation of her insides cracking and falling apart. Refusing to fall prey to the demands of everypony save for herself, she decided that it was time that she acted like what she wished to be. Her ruby berry eyes pierced the darkness as she stood up tall.

I want love, and comfort, and control of myself… I want might, and power, and I want freedom…

By Bullion, these thoughts reeked of the essence of Moonstone.

I want… I want…

The image of something beautiful, and blue, and fresh flashed across her mind’s eye. The thought of the sea alone was renewing, though she didn’t understand why. It filled her with a new sense of power, and the fire built up inside of her belly once again. Though still weak and somewhat fearful, her backbone managed to straighten itself out.

I want that pink pony’s tail for a kitchen mop.

Without considering the consequences, she turned ‘round to face the long, dark hallway before her. It was lined with multiple doors: sparse chambers, probably meant for sick or ailing guests to rest off their various vices.

Making her way down the length of the dark corridor, and forcing her mind into a blank state, Adagio passed from door to door using a small bit of her magic to enhance her hearing so that she might detect the Duke’s voice if he so happened to speak. It took a few minutes, but from behind the twelfth door, she finally heard it. It being his laugh.

To anypony else, it would seem ludicrous to think that something as mundane as a laugh might breed anger and suspicion, but nopony else knew the Duke like she did. Upright never laughed, and when he did, it was usually at the supposition of the wit he gleaned in one of his boring books. For anypony living—a mare much less—to bring him enough joy in a single moment to inspire such a reaction was something that required immediate investigation.

Gathering her robes neatly about her, Adagio stood tall before the doorway. Strangely enough, she allowed her magic to fade so that any sound from within the chamber could no longer be amplified. What did this action mean? Did it mean she was afraid of confirming exactly what she suspected of them? No matter. The problem was going to be solved right now.

She raised her hoof to knock upon the door, and brought it forward. It froze only an inch away from the wood. The silence of the mostly emptied hallway prodded at her. The sound of her own heartbeat was hot in her ears. Something tickled at the corners of her eyes.

What is the matter with you?

She moved her hoof to knock once again, and once again it froze before completing its task.

Are you afraid of that manipulative, dull…

She heard a mare’s giggle from inside of the room. Something wet streaked down her cheek. Quickly, she blinked the rest away. Her head began to pulse, and the beating inside of her skull became like a crash. Slowly, she sank down to the floor into a heap of tears.

Are you afraid? You, Adagio Dazzle? What could he possibly do to you?

Now she was blatantly lying to herself. The falling tears created a dark, wet spot upon the front of her robes.

What could he possibly do? What could he… What will he do if I dare...

Her eyelids drooped, her mind sank into a deep darkness. Those cruel sounds of laughter echoed on in the dark. With one flash of magic, she deafened herself to them and waited in complete silence.

When the door finally unlocked about forty minutes later, the widening slit of inner light revealed a weary, golden lady standing proudly in the hallway. Her head was lifted, her ruby eyes swollen and red with evidence of hard crying.

The face that met hers was a lone, pink one, so beautiful and fresh and new. Adagio said nothing to her at first. Her eyes scanned the mare from bottom to top, studying the design of her clothing, the style of her mane, the intricate messages relayed by her jewels.

Upon catching sight of the newly made Duchess in the doorway, the pink earth pony’s soft and sweet green eyes went wide. A gasp escaped her, and her already flushed face went completely red. Her lips stammered for words. Before she could even begin her silly length of excuses, Adagio was already grimacing.

“Oh, my apologies, Your Grace!” the mare giggled as she performed a low curtsy. Her eyes glistened. They were filled with stars, and Adagio could only imagine which stallion had put them there. “Please, allow me to congratula—”

The loud, sickening sound of a hoof against flesh resounded off of the walls. Just as the pink mare’s words were cut short, a very clear hoofprint had been embedded into the side of her face. There was a sound of frantic rushing and hoofsteps from within the room, and in just a moment more, the Duke’s astonished face appeared in the doorway.

“Ada?” he gasped, blinking with disbelief at what he was witnessing. The Duchess’ gaze slipped toward him only once. Her eyes burned with a fury so unlike anything the stallion had ever seen that even he recoiled in shock. When the pink mare whimpered and touched her hoof to her cheek, the Duchess’ sights again fell on her.

The stupefied pony took a few deep breaths in an attempt to compose herself in spite of her shame. Her green eyes darted about as her mind churned and wrestled for clarity.

“Forgive me, Your Grace… I...I’m afraid I do not underst—”

There was a flash of a ruby red hue. It haloed itself about the earth mare’s head, and at once, her thick bundle of beautifully pinned pink mane came tumbling down about her into a disheveled mess.

“Ada!” the Duke hissed from behind the poor mare, his own horn sparking. “What in Tartarus’ name—”

More flashes of ruby, and then the sharp sounds of shredded silk and lace followed. Adagio’s eyes threatened to water again as she tore the mare’s fine robes and jewels apart piece by piece. The humiliated thing, stunned completely stiff, eyes wide with shock, could do nothing but stare off into the darkness, willing her lungs to gasp for air they no longer wished to breathe.

When all was said and done, and the pink earth mare stood before her in tatters, Adagio took in a deep rattling breath. Her mind was reeling. She didn’t know what she might say next, and didn’t care if she regretted it for all the pain this pony had caused her in only a few moments.

“Bow,” she commanded, her red eyes sparking.

The distressed lady, mouth hanging open in a silent wail, quickly fell prostrate before the golden one. Her forelegs opened wide into a supplication for mercy.

“F… for whatever I have d-done to offend you so deeply, Your Grace, I b-beg your forgiveness,” the trembling pony squawked. Her voice was drawn hoarse and ragged. “I-I am but a humble subject of the king and all of his peers. I...I beg your mercy. I beg your mercy. I beg your mer—”

“Shut your mouth, you filth!” Adagio barked, magic flashing about her. “Beg for my mercy as I scorch your fur from its hide!”

“No! P-please!”

The poor thing was weeping so terribly now that she began to choke upon her words. Adagio’s grimace only grew deeper. She didn’t know whether she felt sorrow for the disheveled creature or just more disgust.

“What for?” she pressed.

“W… what?” the pink mare stammered.

“Why do you beg for my mercy? What is it that you have done?”

“I… I swear I do not know, Your Grace! I only—”

“Confess, you little—”

“Ada! That is enough!” Upright bellowed, stomping his hoof down upon the stone. The sound of it echoed off of the corridor walls.

The mighty pair towered over the whimpering heap. Their eyes were both filled with rage, and burned with words that they dared not say in front of the likes of gentry or the servants now scattered about the shadowed hallway. Every last one of the onlookers watched on in horror.

A beat of silence passed between the pair.

“Miss Themis,” the stallion finally beckoned to the pink mare, his voice dangerously calm, his eyes never wavering from his wife’s, “you must forgive the Duchess. Her Grace is, understandably, out of sorts this evening. You may take your leave. We shall call upon you at a later time.”

It took less than a second for the ruined mare to gather as many of her tatters and scattered jewels up as she could manage. Without another word, she then disappeared down into the darkness of the corridor.

Once she was gone, the stallion stepped aside, feigning courtesy to allow Adagio entrance into the chamber. Raising her chin, the golden unicorn walked through the threshold. She waited patiently as the door slowly closed behind her with a soft ‘click’.

Taking whatever spare moment she had to find her evidence, the Duchess quickly scanned the room, and discovered, to her surprise, that everything was in order. Not a thing was out of place save for an opened and half finished bottle of cider sitting upon a nearby table. It was joined by two near emptied goblets, and what appeared to be a letter whose seal had very recently been broken.

“How dare you shame yourself in this way?” the Duke hissed.

Studying him, Adagio noted that even his uniform remained as crisp and pristine as ever.

“Curious, indeed,” she murmured, narrowing her eyes at him. “Who was that mare, Upright?”

“Iam your Lord, and you shall acknowledge me as such!” he bellowed so loudly that the golden mare flinched. “It isn’t your place to question anything that I wish to do or any creature that I wish to associate myself with!”

Realizing that he had lost his composure, the stallion bore down upon his shaking forehooves, and forced in a deep breath.

“That mare’s father is a chief magistrate. Since my father’s mishap, they have been keeping correspondence. Themis was simply delivering unto me his news. Ada, What is the matter with you?” he groaned, trying and failing to feign fresh calm. “You will go to her apartments on the morrow, apologize, and compensate her for that which you have destroyed.”

“I… don’t… care about any of that, Up-right,” Adagio growled, her horn sparking. “I want you to tell me now… Is she the one who has caught your eye? When did it happen?”

“When did...” Upright repeated in confusion. It took a moment, but slowly the nature of this accusation dawned upon him. When it did, the stallion’s blue eyes shot open wide. A choking noise escaped his throat as he shook the Duchess’ words out of his ears.

“You’re mad,” he chortled, the humor in the sound completely lost.

“Was it here?”

“No.”

“Then where?”

“Nowhere, you delusional filly.”

“Am I delusional?” Adagio muttered, her voice wavering. Though the corners of her eyes began to itch, she refused herself the comfort of more tears in this moment. “And what of that bumbling blue filly from the farmlands? The one who is always smiling and singing about dirt and cake, and begging for bits. Why do you continue giving them to her? Tell me!”

The Duke blinked. He had finally had enough.

“Ada, I shan’t tolerate anymore of these ridiculous accusations.”

“I want to know!” the mare screamed, rearing up onto her hind legs. Her horn beamed so bright that for a moment, it cloaked the room in a reddish pink. When her front hooves crashed back down onto the ground, one of the goblets upon the table went tumbling onto its side and rolling toward the edge.

Upright remained unmoved as the Duchess menacingly pointed her horn in his direction. Needing to appear as the perfect image of a perfect Duke, as usual, the stallion cocked a brow.

“I daresay, Ada, that your own inadequacies have finally begun to render you far too paranoid. In fact, I’m beginning to suspect these tremendous accusations couldn't possibly be fueled by paranoia alone. Is there perhaps… something you wish to tell me?”

Again, something struck her in the chest. That prodding, searching expression was spreading across the stallion’s face again. There was a rhythmic sound in the room, a small tapping. It nagged at her, grew louder, more irritating. When she looked again, a steady drip of golden drops was falling from the tumbled goblet into a puddle upon the stones.

Her muscles relaxed as she ceded that perhaps the Duke was correct. The guilty always spoke first, did they not? And had she not been the first to throw accusations of infidelity at him all whilst Sir Lighthoof awaited her in the—

She froze. Her tongue went dry. She had forgotten all about Lighthoof, and surely an hour had long passed by now. Yet, the thought of him in this moment of burgeoning guilt made her feel sick to her stomach. Once again, the Duke had been right about her. She was the one who was not fulfilling her duties, and she was the one who chose to torture herself for it by thinking that he might betray her in the same way she had done him.

So, why was she still so furious?

Adagio walked herself over to one of the cushions by the table, lowered herself into a seated position, and turned toward the unraveled letter upon the table. Collecting it up into her magic, she scanned the thing.

Something something the elder Lord… unfortunate accident… sun raising ceremony something… befitting compensation…

She sighed loudly, and closed her eyes. The letter floated back down onto the table where it quickly soaked up the spilled cider.

“My Lord… Permit me to ask something of you, and swear to me that you will tell me the tru—”

A goldenrod hoof was raised to halt her speaking. She obeyed, and waited for the Duke to take a seat across from her. With his magic, he pulled down two fresh goblets from atop the nearby, roaring fireplace, filled them both, and shifted one her way. Adagio recoiled in disgust.

“No. I shan't drink from that tainted swill,” she muttered.

It took a moment for the Duke to begin speaking.

“If I were to say I have never, would you believe it?” he inquired calmly.

Adagio thought about it, and only ended up more cross after concluding that the stallion knew her very well.

“No,” she sighed, shaking her curls. “Only because you have led me to believe—”

“Very well. If I were to confess to such a thing, what good would it do you?” he asked her next. There was an odd look in his eye, as if he were enjoying breaking her down this way.

“I would know the truth,” Adagio pressed, leaning forward. Her horn sparked as her temper waxed hot.

“Well, My Lady, it would seem that you are intent on believing that which you wish to believe, whether it is factual or not. But tell me, what good is a difficult truth when one hasn’t the power to change any of it?” the goldenrod stallion retorted.

Here they went again, around in the same old circle. Adagio sighed heavily, and lowered her head in exhaustion.

“Upright, not this again. Please.”

Surprisingly, this worked to momentarily silence the Lord. Even without looking at him, Adagio could tell that he was thinking hard about something.

“You may ask again.”

Her head shot up.

“What did you say?”

“I said you may pose your question again, Ada,” the stallion urged. “I will do as you request, and speak truthfully and earnestly.”

She studied him for a moment, quite unbelieving. Raising her nose, she huffed.

“Swear it on your estate.”

“I swear it on my estate,” he said without any hesitation whatsoever.

This was a bit surprising. Upright wasn't one to carelessly toss his words about when it came to his family or their property. He claimed he would tell the truth, but in that moment Adagio still asked herself whether it was at all possible to believe him. Ideally, a lie would cost the stallion his inheritance, as was stated, but in reality his promise meant nothing. He would lose nothing for lying to her, and there was no way for her to completely suppose the truth concerning this “matter”.

Then, was there any point in posing such a question to him at all? Such an opportunity could most certainly be put to much better use.

Adagio’s jaw unhinged, on the brink of words. Her eyes bore into his.

“W… why is it that you do not send reinforcements to Edinbridle? Is it… is it because your mother is an earth pony? Do you not wish for Sardhoof earth ponies to be injured? Or is it because Vision despises earth ponies, and you wish to spite him?”

The Duke looked a bit surprised. For just a moment, he appeared almost proud of her resolve to speak on this topic above all else. That look of pride quickly faded as he cleared his throat.

“No. Commoners are dispensable as soldiers, no matter their race. That is the unspoken contract they have signed to be granted the freedom to sustain themselves upon my land. And quite frankly, I do not care what Vision may think or do with his lands or his idiotic mouth,” the Duke sighed, raising his goblet to his lips. “My concern is for what is mine. That is all, and the truth is, Ada, that what is mine cannot withstand the pressures of a pegasi onslaught. Their warriors are vicious. You have seen what they have done to the nobles who come to Vision’s aid. By Bullion, nearly all of the northern kingdom is descending into cold, revolt, and madness. Would you have us added to that list? It is only a blessing that the King is wise enough to stay out of the matter for the time being.”

“To his own detriment,” Adagio interjected.

“You know nothing about the minds of Kings,” Upright quipped, swirling his goblet in a beam of magic. “I believe he is biding his time.”

“The north…” the Duchess pondered to herself, tapping at her chin. “Well, what of the Crystal Kingdom? Couldn’t the king request its aid? He has done so to squash skirmishes in the past, has he not?”

Now Upright appeared quite stunned. The pleasant look about his face transformed into a true, albeit small, smile. His body language relaxed ever so slightly, and he leaned forward toward her. Needless to say, this physical show of interest put Adagio on edge.

“The crystal ponies have never dealt in warfare, only love and affection. You should already know that,” the Duke posed, looking as if the entire conversation hinged on what the mare might say next. “The only fighter of note in that kingdom is the Princess, and her crystal heart is not a permanent balm for strife, not unless we wish to join her ever-widening territories, which I wouldn’t particularly fancy.”

He paused.

“Perhaps you are suggesting that they all trek down to Edinbridle to deliver unto Vision and Debon Air a volley of affectionate embraces and pretty flowers.”

“And why not?” Adagio quipped with a shrug and a sly smile. “Vision appears to be in great need of every hug and blossom he can acquire. Did you see the looks he received this afternoon? No wonder the poor thing departed for home promptly afterward.”

Her heart leapt to hear the sudden sound of the Duke chuckling. Afraid to halt the momentum of the conversation with any foolish or riling remark, she thought to herself again. She wanted to say something of use now, something that would encourage him to perhaps see her as a formidable mind, maybe even an equal. Her thoughts immediately fell upon Moonstone and her tales from earlier on that day.

“What if there was an agreeable pegasus warrior? A commander, perhaps, that was willing to discuss matters?” she inquired, her smile fading.

The Duke scoffed.

“Ludicrous,” he spat, rolling his eyes. “There is no such a thing. A commander is made a commander for their prowess with viciousness. No commander would rather speak than fight.”

Adagio’s lips tightened as something buzzed in her brain. There was an opportunity hidden here somewhere, an opportunity to get everything she currently wanted out of the Duke. But what, exactly, should she say? How could she ensure that he would not simply write her off? Beads of sweat formed on her brow as she finally raised her own goblet toward her lips. Staring intently at the stallion’s face, she shook her head.

“I beg to differ,” she murmured before taking a sip.

It took a moment, but Upright eventually caught on. His eyes went wide, and his goblet nearly went clattering down onto the table.

“Ada…” he coughed. “Do you know a commander? Have you spoken with one?”

She said nothing at first, enjoying the drawing out of the pregnant silence. For once, it was Upright who looked to be on edge. The mare lowered her goblet back onto the table, and looked her husband in the eyes, trying her best not to smile victoriously.

“Tell me, Upright, my love, have you indeed been faithful to me?” she inquired, her voice curling like a songbird’s. She gulped when his entire expression darkened and folded into itself. It would seem that brief glimmer of affection had dissipated.

A heavy silence passed between them both. The Duke was grinding his teeth behind his lips again, clearly resentful of her cleverness. Still, Adagio wondered how much that resentment did or did not overpower his desire to find a solution to whatever threatened the kingdom.

“Yes, Ada.” He seemed to choke on the words. “I have. Upon my estate, that is the truth. I have no time for anything else save that which is required of me.”

Adagio did not feel anything within her heart shift or change upon hearing these words. She frowned with disappointment. It was now Upright’s turn to look smug.

“What is the matter, my love?” he cooed. “Do you find my reply insufficient? Are you still worried? I couldn't imagine why.”

In that moment, Adagio knew that the avenue for all conversation had been closed. She gulped down another bout of screaming and cursing, choosing to stand up tall and take a deep breath instead. Perhaps there was still time to…

“About the commander—”

“No, Ada, I've heard enough from you concerning such matters, I think,” the Duke stopped her, quickly finishing off the contents of his goblet, and standing as well. “But now, I would like to ask you a question of my own.”

Adagio’s eyes went wide. It took a few seconds to regain control of her face.

“Will you answer truthfully, Lady Duchess?” Upright inquired, rounding about her like a wolf poised to pounce.

“Of course!” she laughed, suddenly sounding as if she had raced a mile. “Ask it.”

“Have you been faithful to me?”

The question caught her off guard, and in a moment, she felt her under robes all go damp with sweat. Though she forced her mannerisms calm, the golden mare could not fight off the flush now overtaking her cheeks. Had this inquiry been inspired by something the Duke had seen between herself and Lighthoof?

Blast. She was taking too long to reply.

Please, if nothing else, Adagio, do not falter now.

“Yes. Always, My Lord. I swear it upon all that I love and hold dear,” she lied, gazing straight ahead, perhaps into oblivion. Her pounding heart counted off the seconds it took for the Duke to stop studying her face, searching for lies. Whatever it was he saw there, he did not say. Only a moment more, and he settled away from her, turning to exit the room.

“I will see you in the ballroom, Ada. We have yet to share a dance, and we shan’t deprive the other guests of a sight so befitting this momentous occasion, correct?” His tone was flat. The sound of it tugged at her brain to pay attention, but she was far too exhausted to heed her own good advice. Fatigue had taken hold, and want for a bit of relief now consumed her. Unfortunately, Lighthoof was more than likely gone, Moonstone was probably laying unconscious somewhere in the garden amongst a host of feathered barbarians, and there was no ocean or sea for miles. That left only one avenue open in her quest for peace of mind.

Taking a deep breath, Adagio squared her shoulders, and passed the Duke as defiant a glare as she could muster.

“Yes, My Lord, but first, I wish to give thanks to the king and his subjects in my own way.”

It took only a moment for Upright to decipher what she meant. He shook his head.

“No, I don't think so, Ada. Not tonight, and most certainly not if His Majesty has not requested this.”

The golden mare’s head drooped low.

One thing. One single thing was all she had left to bring her happiness on a day that should have been filled with nothing but. Naturally, the Duke was so very hasty in his attempt to snatch it away. She was tired, and of course there was no use in arguing with him. Thus, she simply chose not to argue at all.

“I am at your beckon call, My Lord. You may command me as you please,” she replied calmly, rising to walk past him and through the door, “except in this matter. For, no noble, not even the King, My Lord, has the power to dissuade a pony from the innate gifts of their mark.”

She waited for that stubborn, tight-lipped look to stretch across his face before exiting into the dark corridor. An hour and a half had passed them by.

—

For all of her efforts marching around in this endless battle of cunning and secrecy with Upright and Lighthoof, in the end, it had all equaled out to the same thing: She had lied to them both.

Her hooves dragged as she entered into the light of the crowded ballroom, and stumbled her way toward the nearest cider-toting servant. She avoided the gazes of everypony she knew as she went by, especially Violet. The day’s theme—subjugation—had made itself absolutely clear to her. Indeed, there was nothing left to do now but drink… and one more thing…

There was still one area in which nopony could possibly compete with her, one way in which she could be the force of power that she wished to be. Amongst all of these smiling faces, the golden mare now felt determined to mold the evening into something more empathetic to her troubles. She refused to suffer alone.

Faceless figures swirled about her as she made her way toward the bottom most step of the raised platform where the King and Queen reclined. Tossing her emptied goblet somewhere off to the side, she gave both of the confused royals a low bow, and then turned to face the crowd, not worried in the slightest that they might stop her. A few of the savvy halted their dancing at once to turn and face her. A rush of murmuring encompassed the room as eyes moved her way, pair by pair. The greenhorns in the crowd did not cease their merrimaking until urged to by the others.

Closing her eyes, she allowed waves of emotion to wash over her. For, whilst her world and the ponies in it did often prove callous and greedy, in this particular moment, in this space, she knew that her feelings were now the only ones that mattered.

A profound sadness took hold of her and budded as she contemplated the day. It blossomed and grew thorns as she looked again upon the spoiled and sybaritic hoard before her. Was this really what she had wanted to become after all? One of these rotten things? And if so, how very sad that was indeed.

The thorns inside of her grew longer, pierced her, and burned in the spot between her chest and neck. Something beautiful cracked open inside of her brain and swelled. Suddenly, all of her frustrations came pouring out into one, definitively gorgeous sound.

Gilded bird in a gilded cage.
Does she figure herself fortunate,
And oh supremely grand?
Knows not hunger nor wind nor rain,
A jewel set in a golden band.

The air seemed to thicken, the lights appeared to dim even though nothing had changed at all. One by one, bodies turned and began to sway in time to the Duchess’ somber melody. Adagio smirked as the irony in her words was lost on the decadent congregation. Some part of her had wished that it wouldn't be, but she still wasn’t surprised that it was. What was one to expect from a room full of ponies glad to be held prisoner by their own riches?

Give me your song, pretty one.
Night and day,
Day into night,
Unlearned lark,
Sing on!

Her chorus expanded to pack the room as well as every heart. When all heads had filled themselves to the brim with her intoxicating melody, they turned toward one another, and began to dance. Even the royal musicians, eyelids heavy in their daze, were compelled to pick up their instruments and play as if they had known the song all their lives.

Painted bird in a rusting cage,
Why ever would you suffer a freedom,
Filled with toil and woe?
It’s here you are safe and here you shall know,
A life of bells and beauty.

They all moved, twirling round and round as if in a trance from which they might never wake. Looking out upon them all, Adagio spied the seven Vision children and their mother, her own mother and father, the entire Goldenstalks clan save for the sickly elder Lord, and the servants going around like nothing else in the world mattered. Even the king and queen had slumped down into their thrones in a euphoric stupor. In the Duchess’ opinion, they were all now made perfect mockeries of themselves.

The only ponies missing from the fray were Lighthoof, Moonstone, and not surprisingly, Upright. As usual, he had taken this opportunity to show her how very little he cared for her gift of music by stepping away into the garden. Pity. Surely, their marriage would get along a bit more smoothly had he chosen to indulge himself in her voice every now and then.

Give me your song, oh, pretty one.
Night and day,
Day into night,
Oh, foolish lark,
Sing on!

Adagio smiled. She still couldn't put her hoof on why her songs seemed to hold such a sway over other ponies, but at this age, after years of using her voice, it was a fact difficult to ignore. Considering her mark, it wasn't far fetched to suppose that this was her special talent at work. However, every time she looked upon the abnormally powerful effects of her song, she couldn't help but suppose that the reasoning behind these abilities was something far greater.

The music rolled on.

Satisfied with herself for the time being, she raised another goblet, and moved to step off of the platform. The melody of her song continued to hang heavy in the air as the court musicians continued to play. Its rhythm rolled about inside of her chest, making the odd mark beneath her robes itch. Hopefully, all those in attendance would continue to dance and leave her be for as long as the sensation lasted. Perhaps now was a good time to retire to her chambers.

A flash of golden light in the middle of the ballroom floor halted her thoughts, and suddenly she felt the warmth of her song draining away in a manner she had never felt before. Something in her spirit was offended at the sensation of this foreign and overbearing power. The fur upon her back raised, and a primal sense of caution consumed her. She recognized this feeling from earlier on in the day.

Who dares...

Before she could turn to see what the source of the light was, she heard the grumblings of a mass of shaken ponies waking from their trance. Those grumblings turned into gasps as through the swiftly parting crowd, two ethereal forms—one white as a cloud and one dark as midnight—made their way to the center of the floor, sat, and waited. It took only a moment for Adagio to realize that they were waiting for her.

The room was under a different kind of magic now. Even the unicorn king himself dared not interfere with the wishes and whims of the ancients. Clearing his throat to catch Adagio’s attention, he urged the golden mare onward.

Curtsying obediently, the Duchess put down her goblet, inhaled some courage, and made her way toward the two alicorn sisters. All eyes were on her as she stood before them. Nopony else dared get so close.

The two were not yet fully grown, both appearing to be teenagers, and Adagio found it odd that she was the one who need look down upon them. The one she recognized as Celestia was nearly as tall as she was, and a pretty looking thing that appeared incapable of wearing anything except for her white gossamer gown and an impish smile. Her younger sister, Luna, was a tad shorter, and for all her deceptive youth, was as serious as the grave.

At once, Adagio became aware of the many curious eyes upon them. She had never before met alicorns. Not many did. Even spying one from a distance was already a sign of immense good fortune. However, she was still a Duchess and the peer to a king. These two were not. Still, everypony present could feel by the sheer amount of magic radiating off of them that perhaps they were something greater.

Her knees bent hesitantly again and again as she tried to figure if she should bow to them or they to her. She performed this motion many times until her cheeks began to go red. As if recognizing her dilemma, the two sisters, in tandem, shook out their wings to full widths, and gracefully lowered themselves to the floor. The entire room went silent and breathless. Even Adagio felt her heart skip a beat.

When the alicorns rose again, they said nothing. Celestia’s pink eyes bore into her, slowly moved to the hyacinth pin upon her collar, trailed downward toward her flat underbelly, and then back up to knowingly meet her gaze. That mischievous grin brightened.

“Play on, please!” the white alicorn begged the court musicians who made haste to oblige her. The music was booming and beautiful, though no one dared dance at a time like this. Ignoring them all, the elder alicorn began to sway. Luna, clearly not fond of such pastimes, retreated a few steps backward. She still watched them both from a distance.

“I'm afraid my sister isn't one for dancing, but I've always wanted to try it with a partner,” Celestia chirped, twirling about in place. The childlike timbre had yet to leave her voice. “I've been practicing, you see. For almost thirty years now.”

“Y-you have!” Adagio coughed, not knowing what else to say.

“I don't know many court dances. To be quite honest, I'm much more fond of country steps,” the white alicorn giggled, skipping a circle around the Duchess. “Still, I think I know enough for a Quadrille. Would you dance with me?”

Though the loose and casual mannerisms of the alicorn seemed rather undignified to everypony present, the smile upon the white mare’s face was infectious and eventually put the room more at ease. The Duchess, however, remained tense. She sighed out a nervous laugh of her own, and graciously nodded her head.

“My younger sister loves those country dances. It is only a shame that she has tuckered herself out before being allowed the privilege of meeting you.”

“She does?” Celestia gasped, her smile going far too bright for dignified company. “Then I’ll be sure to call upon her some other time. My sister only likes to read and frown, so I never have a proper partner.”

Celestia turned toward Luna to jut out her tongue. Almost as if expecting this, the dark mare returned the offense in kind, rolled her eyes, and looked away. Immediately, Adagio’s mind fell upon her husband whose mannerisms resembled the younger alicorn’s quite a bit.

“Not one partner you say?” the golden mare asked.

“Not many fancy a dance with a pony like me, as you could probably imagine,” Celestia grumbled. She narrowed her eyes in Adagio’s direction.

“I can empathize with you, I think,” the Duchess tittered. She then turned about to face the court musicians, and raised her foreleg high. “A Quadrille!”

As the two slowly rounded about each other, all worries for the improperness of such a sight fell out of Adagio’s mind. Yet something about these alicorns still filled her with a sense of apprehension. A part of her felt threatened and bare in front of the two. She didn't know what it was that they saw within her, but she did know that they were absolutely intent on being nosey about it. These strange, timeless creatures, hiding behind the faces of mere fillies, were yet another thing to be closely watched.

“I'm nearly a century old, in case you were hesitant to ask,” Celestia murmured as if reading the Duchess’ mind. “Luna is only eighty-five, and yet takes herself so very seriously.”

The alicorn kicked up the hem of her pure white robe, and spun about to round in the other direction. Adagio matched her movements step-for-step.

“F-forgive my lack of understanding, Celestia,” she stammered, unsmiling. “This is my first time meeting an alicorn. Your kind is very difficult for me to comprehend.”

“Mm. The Queen has informed us that others might feel this way. And then she stuffed us both behind that dreadfully hot screen in her Grand Hall,” Celestia tittered, flipping her flowing mane over one shoulder.

“Great Hall,” Adagio corrected sheepishly.

“Oh. Pardon me,” the alicorn giggled. “Regardless, I do stress that you needn’t feel worried by our presence. Alicorns are still very much present in this world as they have always been; just not in the spaces of ponies like you. Most of our kind choose to remain on the far—”

Luna cleared her throat loudly in an obvious attempt to gain her sister’s attention. Celestia’s head whipped about to look, and when she did, the younger alicorn passed her a strained glare. The white mare giggled, pressing a hoof to her lips.

“Pardon, once again,” she laughed. “My sister is inclined to believe that we mustn’t speak too much about our kind with… well… you know.”

Another twirl, and then the white alicorn leaned in to whisper something.

“But between you and me, I've realized that everypony already knows the alicorns reside near the peak of the mountain’s far side. Literally, they teach fillies that sort of thing in school along with grossly exaggerated lessons on alicorn biology, of course. I'm quite certain that I don’t plan on feasting upon foals every thousand years to upkeep my looks. Yet everypony keeps staring at the both of us as if… well...” She shrugged and laughed, moving away to give herself more room to dance. “Besides, we two aren't the only strange things to happen to this kingdom as of late. We aren’t even the only strange ones in attendance at the ball this evening.”

The alicorn passed the Duchess a knowing wink. Adagio could feel an impending explanation coming on—not to mention, the alicorn’s smile grew even brighter—so she chose to wait. Sure enough, a few moments later…

“The bad dreams have a source, you realize,” Celestia stated as she swayed. “All of the warring as well.”

It took a moment for Adagio to realize what it was she was talking about.

“Do they? Is it perverted magic like everypony says? Do you know how to stop it?”

“Not quite,” the white mare went on, humming merrily to herself in between her words. “Tell me, My Lady, do you believe in spirits?”

The question caught the Duchess off guard.

“Yes, I… Well, I… Errm… I suppose I do.” She thought to herself for a moment. “Is… is that not what you are?”

Celestia burst out into a bright and hearty laughter.

“Spirits, no,” she chortled. Her reply was left at that, leaving Adagio feeling embarrassed for having asked her the question at all.

The dance went on in silence for a moment, Adagio not knowing what more she might possibly speak about with the likes of a creature such as this. After a while, Celestia huffed and passed the golden mare a wide grin.

“When shall you tell your husband that there is to be no foal?”

For the first time that evening, Adagio’s steps faltered. If it wasn’t for Celestia catching her with a single, powerful wing, she would have fallen straight onto her face.

“N...n… How do you know that?” the Duchess stuttered.

The alicorn did not reply, choosing instead to twirl in place.

“You know it is only going to get worse for you the longer you wait. You wouldn’t want to bring such disharmony upon your household, would you?” the white mare giggled as if completely detached from understanding the severity of her words. “Shall we tell him together?”

Adagio said nothing. For a moment she stood still, studying the mischievous creature before her with disdain. That feeling of apprehension was quickly turning into spite.

“Now I understand why I felt so very inclined to dislike you,” the Duchess huffed, refusing to move another inch. She turned her head away in a show of disfavor. “I don’t wish to dance with you any longer.”

“Oh, come now Lady of Sardhoof. Don't be that way,” Celestia bleated, rounding about her again. “There is still so much left for us to discuss.”

“Is there?” Adagio tittered, inspecting a pristine hoof.

“There is, indeed,” Celestia chuckled. “Don't you care to speak on our shared visions?”

“No,” the Duchess blurted instinctively. Then, she decided to actually ponder the question. Those images of night, and crashing, and screaming were blood-curdling to say the least. It would be a lie to say that she didn't wish to know what it all meant—and she had already done enough lying to last her an eternity.

“Y… yes. What do they mean?”

She stood there, anxiously shifting her weight from leg to leg, awaiting the alicorn's response.

“I'll be damned if I know,” Celestia sang mischievously as she twirled. “What I do glean is that we are meant to be aware of one another. Our story together is not finished after tonight, My Lady, and I sense it shan’t be for quite some time. Would you happen to know why this is?”

“Me? Why would I know such a thing?” Adagio crowed, pressing a hoof against her chest. The volume of her voice caught the attention of the onlooking crowd who then began to murmur.

Celestia giggled.

“You had better dance and keep quiet, My Lady,” she suggested. “Wouldn't want to raise any suspicions about the nature of our conversation, would you?”

The Duchess grimaced. This alicorn was certainly past getting on her nerves. Immortal or no, she refused to be spoken to in such a way. Inhaling some calm and stepping out with one hoof, she continued the motions to their dance.

“I don't have the slightest idea what you are talking about. I cannot wield magics like yours. Nopony can. If there is some connection between us, only an alicorn would be powerful enough to—”

“On the contrary, My Lady,” Celestia interrupted, directing a hoof toward Adagio’s chest, right above the hidden spot where her birthmark sat. “You wield something far more powerful than any unicorn I have met before. I sense that you know this. You simply will not admit it.”

For a second time, Adagio was stunned into stillness.

“Your song—What is the magic behind it, I can only imagine?” the alicorn inquired, her dancing slowing down to a sway. Apparently, she had finally gotten around to the topic which she so desired to discuss.

“Th… there is no magic in my song save for the magic that any pony's special talent might contain,” Adagio stammered, truly confused.

“Oh, don't be so modest, Adagio Dazzle,” Celestia pressed. Her mischievous smile had all gone away, and for the first time Adagio could sense the power, age, and wisdom sitting behind those deceptively young eyes. “I know there is something to your song, and so do you. Your magic, whatever it may be, has something to do with my sister and me. The only reason we trek so very far from home is to learn more of our many strong inclinations and visions. This is why we have come all this way to see you, after all. Surely, you’d agree that we have a right to know what this all means.”

For the Duchess, her own suspicions about the nature of her voice had now practically been confirmed by these two ethereals. Still, that didn't make understanding her gift any easier. ‘Sing and watch them all dance whenever you please’ was the general rule on it. If it extended beyond that, Adagio had no clue about it. What she did know, however, was that she refused to be intimidated into responding about it out of fear.

“Y...you seem tense, Celestia. Quite forward all of a sudden,” the golden mare stammered, trying to muster up some courage. “Might you feel that there is some reason to fear me?”

Celestia’s eyes went wide, and she recoiled ever so slightly. As if having heard it all, Luna passed the back of her sister’s head a nervous, tight-lipped look.

“O-of course not,” the elder alicorn stuttered. Now it was she who was speaking loudly and fumbling about her hooves. “What a preposterous thing to say. What should we two have to fear from the likes of you? Nothing at all!”

Adagio’s face broke out into a grin. It was made clear that nopony had ever dared to speak to the alicorn in such a tone. She was obviously not used to replying to such bold accusations.

“I should think that you are correct, what with your being far older and wiser than I,” the Duchess sighed with finality. “There is nothing you should fear from me.”

By this time, the both of them had stopped their dancing. Celestia's jovial mannerisms had now gone all rigid and grim. Her facade had fallen away to reveal something resembling a petulant teenager, scorned.

“If you will excuse me,” Adagio murmured, taking a step backward. “I do believe the Duke is awaiting me in the garden.”

She curtsied low so that no pony who witnessed it might say that she had been disrespectful to the alicorns.

“It has been an honor,” she tittered, feeling proud of herself.

“Y… yes,” Celestia replied as Luna approached to stand beside her. “Likewise.”

The two of them did not even wait for Adagio to turn and walk away before they began to chatter into each other's ears. Their horns sparked in the dim light as whatever they could not say out loud was transferred by way of magic.

Too tired to care, and set on leaving them to their worries, the Duchess turned away, only to feel a tug of magic upon the back of her robes soon after. Turning about, she spotted Luna, the more serene and solemn of the sisters, staring at her.

“OUR SISTER IS—” the dark mare began at the very top of her lungs before Celestia hoofed her in the ribs. The younger alicorn cleared her throat and tried again.

“Our sister is of a more frivolous and coddling nature than We, oh, Adagio Dazzle,” she declared, ignoring her older sibling’s whinny of disapproval. “Thus, allow Us to state things plainly so that thou mightst not misconstrue them. An affront to Us or Our ancient land shall not be tolerated, and ne’er shall it go unpunished. Our kind doth teach that there is a balance to all of nature and a rhythm to all of time. Any creature that giveth reason to believe they are a threat to this balance must be dealt with.”

That hot feeling of unexplained anger began to well up in the center of Adagio’s chest again. She still couldn't put her hoof on why the two sisters brought such emotion out of her, but Luna’s tone of voice certainly wasn’t helping.

“We have heard many great sorrows calling to Us in warning. We believe it to be works of a being with dark magic, pony or otherwise, intentional or no, and are searching for its source. Thy spirit has called us here. Hence, We shall ask thee one final time, Adagio Dazzle: What is the true nature of thy voice?”

The fur upon her back was bristling again. Adagio felt her legs shiver with incredulity, and still could not understand why. Her eyes cut into the sisters, sharp and filled with hatred. For some reason, she was now seeing red.

“This place,” the Duchess hissed so low, the voice didn't seem like her own. “This place is a terrible place.”

Luna raised an eyebrow. Celestia peered on from behind.

“Of what place dost thou speak? This castle?” the dark mare inquired. “Then why dost thou not simply leave—”

“I could never have guessed that such worship of suffering might exist,” the Duchess interrupted. “Had I known, then I wouldn’t have ever chosen to...”

Adagio’s pulse was drumming in her ears. The patch upon her chest was burning like fire. The music bouncing off the walls of the ballroom agitated her. It suddenly seemed crude and simplistic.

“Wouldn’t have chosen to what?” Luna pressed, taking a step forward.

The closer either of them got to her, the more offended Adagio’s spirit became.

“This place deserves its endless sorrows for what it is doing to me. I want you to remember that I have said this.”

“And why is that? Who art thou, Adagio Dazzle?” Luna pressed, her horn now glowing blue in wait.

Something escaped from the pit of Adagio’s stomach: a growling, too low for anypony else to hear. She passed a beaming smile the two sisters’ way.

“Oh, wouldn't you like to know?” she lilted.

All around them, the crowd, though not able to hear the conversation, could now easily see that the interaction between the three mares had gone awry. The Duchess’ body language was fierce, on the verge of becoming something quite disastrous to behold. Luckily, having just then walked back into the room after sensing the absence of Adagio’s music in the air, the Duke Goldenstalks managed to catch sight of this impending debacle. He stepped forward out of the crowd, built up momentum, and was nearly upon her in an instant.

“Savor the sweetness of this time...” the Duchess began to sing just in time for Upright’s hoof to come down firmly upon her shoulder. With his touch, she snapped out of her trance. She spun about in a daze until her eyes met his.

“Ada? What is the matter? You look… sickly,” he muttered, studying her face.

She didn't know what was the matter. One moment she was there, exchanging disingenuous words with two revered alicorns, and the next, she was… gone? Or at least unaware of her words. All she could remember of it was the intense heat, the anger she felt toward such beings of light as this, and still she could not decipher why.

“My Lord, I feel faint,” she croaked, leaning upon his chest. “I need a bit of air.”

“Of course,” he muttered, his face void of all emotion. Bowing his head respectfully toward the two sisters, he then directed Adagio toward the double doors that led out into the garden.

The music in the room calmed down to a low, unsure tremor as the alicorns watched them both leave in silence. Looks of pure suspicion and wonder were plastered upon their faces.

“Ah. Now I understand,” Celestia murmured under her breath as her eyes pierced into Upright. She glanced at her sister and her sister at her.

“Come, Luna,” she implored. “Let us retire. I believe we’ve done all we can do here.”

“But sister!” the dark mare exclaimed. “Didst thou not hear what—”

“I understand, Luna,” the elder mare replied. “However, I feel that is all we shall receive from the likes of her. Let us take our leave.”

The older alicorn turned to depart without another word. Silently, the surrounding crowd split down the middle to make way for her. Luna, still quite anxious, took an unsettled last look toward the departing Duke and Duchess, and then turned to catch up.

When they had all departed, the music played on. Into the night it went as if its rhythms might never cease. The entire strange rendezvous between the Duchess and the alicorns was soon forgotten. Amongst a haze of silk and cider, thoughts of them were relegated to memory to be used as later fodder for gossip.

—-

The evening was cool. This could have been for a number of reasons, specifically: the rising conflicts to the north and east of the kingdom’s seat spreading the chill of hatred into Canterlot, an act of vindictiveness on the part of the pegasi against the ponies in attendance at the ball, or maybe simply because autumn was on its way. For all that could be said about those sky dwelling ponies, one could never suppose that they weren't dedicated to the tasks at hoof. War or no, their weather duties continued on.

Eyes of a different sort were upon them now, mostly the pegasi and a few servants out for a quick break from the ball. However, and strangely enough, the entire night remained silent. Adagio supposed that maybe pegasus kind wasn’t much for frivolous conversation. Upright would probably fit right in if he had felt inclined to associate with them.

The fresh chill running through her bones only upset her more as she walked by the Duke’s side. Her eyes darted about anxiously, and the single sliver of hope left within her wished that somewhere amongst the brush, she’d catch her beloved white knight’s wisp of fur and brown mane. Of course, they were nowhere to be found.

“I shouldn't have gone away for so long a time. I should have been beside you as you approached the sisters,” the Duke stated plainly.

“N...no, no. That is alright,” Adagio began, sounding half distracted. “I find them both rather irritating, actually. It was good that you appeared just as you did to draw me away.”

Upright hummed thoughtfully to himself.

“I see,” he replied. “And what lofty topic of conversation was it that you required drawing from?”

Adagio faltered for a moment, suddenly remembering the politely put accusations the two alicorns had thrown her way. Were they something she should reveal to the Duke? Surely, there would be no harm in it considering the ridiculous nature of all that they had said.

“Oh… oh, well, it was silly, really,” she laughed, shaking her head as if to convince herself that she was right. “They only went on about my singing, claiming that it wasn’t normal, and rambling on about some ridiculous daydream they continue to have. None of it made a bit of sense.”

Things were quiet for a while save for Adagio’s forced laugh. The Duke was thinking again.

“I see,” was all that he muttered before walking on in silence.

The pressure was beginning to build again. The Duchess’ eyes continued to dart about, her heart still hopeful for Lighthoof’s presence even though her head knew better.

“Who is it that you are searching for? Is this pony the one who has made you so upset?” the Duke inquired gently, trying not to disturb the peace of the evening.

Adagio bristled and forced another laugh.

“Oh! N… no one, My Lord. I noticed that my sister and a few others went missing from the fray, and only wondered where they might have—”

“Ah, yes. I saw her being toted away by Lighthoof,” the stallion sighed. “Does she always act that way at these sort of events?”

This time, Adagio’s chuckle was genuine.

“Not always, but quite often. But a noblemare is permitted her share of fine cider, is she not?”

A grumbling sound escaped from the depths of Upright’s chest.

“This I have not forgotten. The mare nearly drank us out of house and home at our wedding reception.” There was an almost joking quality to the stallion’s voice, though his expression remained as stoic as ever.

Adagio again forced a chuckle in the dark. Was this his attempt at trying to make her feel better?

The sound of ruffling pegasus feathers cut into the quiet every now and then. Something about it all made the Duchess’ heart heavy as they both came upon a stone platform to the side of the garden path. Taking a seat, she hesitated to tell Upright that, at the moment, she wished he would leave her alone. The guilt she carried from her lying and dishonesty made her feel sick, and Lighthoof’s face wasn't before her to be used as a balm.

Upright remained standing. The Duchess never even noticed that he was studying her, even as her eyes darted about one last time.

“You shan’t find Lighthoof here. He is gone away,” the goldenrod stallion stated plainly, turning to look off into the night in order to spare himself the surprised look upon his wife’s face.

“O...oh! Has he?” Adagio stammered, trying—and failing—to sound nonchalant about the matter. She slapped a hoof against her forehead.

Adagio, you grand fool.

There was a pause in the conversation, almost as if the Duke were calculating something in his head.

“Yes. A servant has informed me that he has decided to make haste back to Greenwaters, although I do not understand why. He never rejects an opportunity to make good use of a royal ball, after all.” A pause. “You two were dancing. He appeared upset. Did he say anything to you?”

As if predicting her reaction, the stallion's neck snapped about so that he might look at the Duchess’ face precisely at the moment she felt her entire head go red and hot.

More studying, more searching, more calculating.

“That silly stallion is always on his ridiculous quest to outdo his father,” she croaked, waving a hoof at the Duke and forcing a laugh. “I believe he said he was going to request assignment from the king.”

Upright’s entire body shifted around so that he might face her.

“Really? I couldn’t imagine why such a ‘quest,’ as you put it, might be what has rendered him so terribly cross.”

Adagio gulped down the lump now forming in her throat.

“I'm quite certain it is nothing to worry yourself with, My Lord.” Her voice had now gone all hoarse. “Why, only today, he was up to his typically dreadful jokes, was he not?”

“No,” the stallion stated plainly, squaring his shoulders. The silence spread out for a long while this time. “I realize it might not look it, but I do pay very close attention to the company that I choose to keep. I have known Lighthoof all of my life, Ada, and he was most certainly out of sorts this afternoon. I did suspect something was amiss for quite some time now, and this confirms it.”

“Very well,” Adagio huffed, not wanting to protest so much as to appear suspicious. Her tail had begun to flick nervously back and forth. She did not think to stop until the Duke’s eyes began to study that movement as well. “And what does My Lord make of these observations?”

She nearly fainted away when the stallion’s eyes narrowed, their pupils trained upon her. For a moment, it seemed as if his mouth were opening to sling furious accusations her way. She braced herself.

Oh, Celestia… Wait a moment. I don't like her.

“I am not quite certain as of yet,” he tittered calmly, spinning about to again face the garden. He didn’t notice the gigantic exhalation of relief the Duchess released behind his back. “And yet, it does disturb me greatly. I suppose I shall need to speak with him.”

“That is impossible, My Lord,” Adagio muttered, hiding her panic. “He shall be away on assignment. I suggest you simply let it be.”

“Nonsense. Who is to say that his assignment shan’t keep him very close to his home? These are very dangerous times, after all,” the stallion clucked in his typical way. “All I need do is speak with His Majesty, if time permits.”

And then Upright cracked a smile. It was wide and mischievous, but not in a way that would lead Adagio to believe that she was in on a shared joke. On the contrary, something in his eyes made her feel as if the joke was on her.

“You would appreciate his company, and knowing that he is, more or less, safe wouldn't you, Ada?” the Duke continued on. His smile didn't fade.

Adagio felt on the brink of penitent tears. Her lips sealed themselves tight lest they begin confessing. A long silence passed between them before she realized that remaining quiet only made her appear more suspicious.

“We have all been very good companions since foalhood,” she murmured, looking down toward the pebbles on the garden’s path. “You needn't feel bashful for stating plainly that you would appreciate his company as well.”

Good answer.

Without any hesitation, Adagio then stood and turned to leave. The pressure of the conversation had taken its toll, and she was certain that she wouldn't be able to manage another second of it without accidentally implicating herself of some horrible deed.

“I must bid you good evening, My Lord,” she sighed, performing a short curtsy. “I have yet to take a meal, and I’m afraid that presently, I am filled to the brim with cider.”

The Duchess passed him one of her best forced smiles, glad to be rid of him, especially if he was intent on continuing to act like... well... him. She took one step toward the castle before feeling the tug of magic upon her tail.

“Ada, one moment, please,” the Duke murmured.

Spinning about, Adagio caught Upright’s gaze now directed downward to her collar. Hopes of a little bit of mercy and affection were again dashed when she followed the trail his eyes made down to her hyacinth pin. The thing had somehow come loose during the course of the evening.

“Straighten that, won’t you?” he commanded her. “We, indeed, shall be homebound on the morrow, but that doesn't mean I can accept your treating it that way. It is a rare gift that has been afforded you. You should cherish it.”

Adagio’s mind was spouting curses she could no longer comprehend. She realized the inflection in the Duke’s words meant something, but couldn't bring herself to care. Passing the stallion a rueful glare, she hastened to reattach the awful pin with her magic, and then backed away. Spinning about, she marched back off toward the castle alone, intent on heading straight to bed. If fate was in the slightest bit kind, Upright would not join her for at least a few more hours. Still, she never saw the Duke’s icy glare as it followed her the entire way up the path.

Author's Note

Phew! Alright, finally moving on from the worst party ever, and now we are all set up for the juicy stuff... I believe.

And in case any of you are wondering what the full lyrics of 'The Gilded Bird' are (background vox included), here ya go as well as another link:

'The Gilded Bird'

Gilded bird in a gilded cage,
Does she figure herself fortunate,
And oh supremely grand?
Knows not hunger, nor wind, nor rain,
A jewel set in a golden band.

Sing me a song, pretty one.
Night and day,
(Around again)
Day into night,
Unlearned lark,
Sing on!
(Isn't she grand?)

Ahh...
(Forsake the blue sky)
Ahh...
(Forsake green land)
Ahh...
(Never to take flight)
Ahh...
(But isn't she grand?)

Painted bird in a rusting cage,
Why ever would you suffer a freedom,
Filled with toil and woe?
It's here you are safe and here you shall know,
A life of bells and beauty.

Give me your song, oh, pretty one.
Night and day,
(Over and Over)
Day into night,
Oh, foolish lark,
Sing on!
(But isn't she grand?)

Ahh...
(Forsake your blue sky)
Ahh...
(Forsake your land)
Ahh...
(How could clipped wings fly?)
Ahh...
(But isn't she grand?)

Watchers

Dimming sunlight shone in her eyes. Fragrant grasses tickled her sides, and only then did Adagio recall where she was. She stretched her sore legs out as far as they could manage, then nestled in closer to the warm, furry mass lying by her side. It breathed steadily.

Her eyes fluttered open to greet the sight of the sun setting over a distant, grassy knoll. From where she lay upon the edges of the Sardhoof, she wondered if it was possible for such a vision to somehow become mundane.

Legend had it that the alicorns had been the first to raise the sun and moon. Of course, legend had it that the alicorns were the first to do everything. Still, when unicorn-kind had finally gotten around to the task, for some reason, they figured such a glorious occurrence might have required more pomp, more pageantry...and more platforms so one's hooves didn't dirty, more hats or shawls to keep either cool or warm depending on the atmospheric circumstances, and more cucumber sandwiches—naturally. Adagio supposed that it was just unicorn-kind’s way, constantly asking oneself: “How could I improve upon that which is perfect?” and then actually attempting to do so.

Looking at the beauty of it all from the green of a more natural realm, these innate habits seemed unnecessary, silly even. Adagio couldn't help but wonder if earth ponies who witnessed such a thing as sunsets and moonrises every day of their lives ever grew tired of them. After all, they would never have to know the drollness of being called away by lottery to stand upon some ceremonial balcony for an hour, one’s horn aglow in tandem with five randomly selected others. They would never have to learn of the risks, as Upright’s father had six years ago.

Choosing the cheerier path, the noblemare allowed memories of her day to wash over her: watching him train Whetstone, his prodigy of a squire; racing through his field that stretched out to the west of Goldenstalks manor, singing refrain after beautiful refrain just to see him smile. Her grin grew wide when she felt him stir by her side. On this early twilight, at least, she wouldn't have to feel as if another one of her days had been wasted amongst soulless rules and decadence.

Sighing with content, she lifted her head, and allowed it to rest upon her companion’s.

“Wake up, you. The sun is bidding us farewell,” she cooed, jostling the slumbering lump. She received only a rattling groan in return.

“Your obsessive squire shall surely cry mischief if you are not present to tend to his training,” she murmured into a stark white ear. It flicked itself, shooing her away.

“Mrghph… run rrrghf… laps,” the barely stirring thing grumbled.

She smirked.

“Upright returns this evening. If we do not make haste toward the manor, he shall surely realize...”

“Splendid. We shall throw a grand party. Have a biiig cake,” the jostled white stallion yawned as he turned to lay upon his other side. His eyes never opened.

Adagio huffed, stomping a hoof into the soft grass. The mare then made a big to-do about rolling, tossing, and turning to rise. A bushel of apples that had been sitting before them quaked and tumbled out of their neat pile.

“Very well, then I shall leave. I've more important things to do anyway.”

At once, the stallion shot up.

“Oh, no you do not!” he bellowed, trapping her tail beneath his hoof.

The tug urged Adagio to turn and pass him a sly grin.

“Success,” she chuckled. “Lighthoof, you are so very predictable.”

Prance grimaced, his deep purple eyes still glistening from slumber. Bowing forward to stretch out his back, he shook the heaviest dregs of his afternoon nap from his head, and then rolled his way closer toward the mare. Nipping with his teeth upon her tail, he dragged her back to where she belonged: beside him.

“You know the routine. You aren’t going anywhere until you do it,” he chuckled, resting his forelegs about her middle.

The mare let loose a loud sigh.

“No. Not again, Prance. Please,” she groaned.

“Well, that is most certainly fine with me,” he chirped. “I am perfectly content to lay here beside you until evening, if you would fancy it more.”

Adagio grimaced.

“No, no, no. I absolutely cannot.”

“Why not?” the knight inquired, passing her an incredulous look with a single, piercing eye.

“I simply cannot. Not right this instant. My heart isn't in the proper place,” the noblemare clucked, sounding even more tired. “It would only prove stale.”

“I certainly wouldn't mind,” Prance pressed. “I should think ‘stale’ might be allowable under the present circumstances.”

Adagio studied him hesitantly. Finding it impossible to resist the disappointed pout on his face, she sighed and tucked in closer.

“Very well,” she moaned, nuzzling her head into the crook between his chin and chest. “A stale one it is.”

Prance, looking rather proud of himself, smiled when he heard her inhale deeply.

A blossom blooms and stays but shortly.
Swiftly doth its petals fall.
Better to spy the mo—

“No, not that one,” the stallion murmured. “You've been singing that since we were foals. Choose another.”

“Alriiight,” the mare giggled whilst his warm breath tickled the place beneath her chin. “Let me see…”

Be still, be still, ye unsettled mind,
When dark becomes the day.
Those yonder wide and worrisome hills,
Shall recede, shall make w—

“Whyare you so very enthralled with that song as of late, Gio? I hear you singing it every chance you’re given,” Prance interrupted again.

“Well, I wouldn't know, Lighthoof! I suppose the tune is simply close to my heart,” Adagio sighed, shrugging her shoulders. She blinked whilst staring thoughtfully up through the sparse canopy of the woods. “Do you not fancy it any longer?”

“‘Course I fancy it,” Prance chuckled as if the question were a ludicrous one. “Which one of your songs is anything less than captivating? And who might think it so? I would enjoy meeting that pony.”

He paused.

“Even still, choose another. I don’t wish to hear that one either.”

Adagio huffed loudly, and turned to face the stallion.

“I’ve explained to you that I must desire to sing before my song could actually… actually…” She trailed off, not knowing how to finish the thought. “Why do you not scamper off to that little, smiling, blue thing that you cherish so? I am quite certain she would be more than pleased to sing whatever it is you'd like in exchange for a gold bit or two.”

“Sonata sings for me at no charge,” Prance quipped, jutting out his tongue. “Besides, she keeps humming the same tune you do.”

“And which tune would that be?” Adagio inquired, now curious.

“The song you sang only a moment ago, about the moon, and Luna, and whatnot,” the stallion yawned. “She must have heard it during one of her visits. Hasn't quite figured all of the words, however. It is more irritating than it is lovely, I'm afraid.”

With his eyes still closed, Prance didn't notice the shaken expression Adagio was now wearing. Not once had the noblemare ever performed the song anywhere the public was allowed. How, then, was it possible that that blue farm filly could partially sing an already established melody to an already existing tune that she had never before heard? Much less, a song that had been spawned from Adagio’s own mind?

“S… surely you’ve absent-mindedly sung the tune in her presence after you have listened to me,” she posed.

Prance snorted.

“Me? Singing? There is enough chaos in the kingdom as it is.”

Taking a few more moments to ponder that which would probably never amount to any sense, Adagio then shook the matter from her mind. Clicking her tongue against her teeth, she passed her companion a weary look.

“Do you or do you not desire a song, knight?”

“I most certainly do!” Prance exclaimed. “Only… not that particular one.”

She’d had enough. Letting off another exasperated huff, the noblemare attempted to sit up and squirm away from the stallion’s forelegs.

“Alright, Lighthoof. If you are determined to forever be unsatisfied, then I really must be going.”

“What? Why?” the stallion exclaimed, jolting upward. “Do you no longer enjoy my company?”

“I do. Of course, I do. However, I cannot remain where he cannot account for my whereabouts, I'm afraid. Our marital bond does depend on it,” Adagio chirped, beginning toward her silk frock which had been discarded a few steps away into the grass.

There was yet another sudden tug upon her tail, this time more forceful and unforgiving. Turning about, she caught sight of simmering purple.

“Our bond?” Prance inquired through clenched teeth. His voice had gone grim.

Adagio defiantly wrenched her tail away from him.

“Yes, Lighthoof. Our.” She then hurried to wriggle into her frock, now floating about in a pink ruby stream of magic. “Curse these things. They are absolutely impossible to get into without a servant’s aid. Even with magic!”

“I wasn’t aware that your desire to spend time with the Earl had again grown so very strong,” Prance grumbled, sitting up in the grass.

“Where is that Beryl when one requires her assistance?” Adagio rambled on, her entire head completely shrouded in light blue silk.

Appearing spiteful, the stallion lazily nudged a displaced apple with one of his hooves.

“One might make the mistake of assuming otherwise, the way we carry on...”

“How dare you, Sir!” Adagio crowed, her puffy head finally popping through the neck of her robe. “I shan't tolerate such rudeness!”

“Perhaps, this is all simply a misunderstanding…” the stallion continued, ignoring her protestations.

“Lighthoof!” she gasped.

“What with your brand new family on the way, ey?”

The stallion knew immediately that he had made a grave mistake when he witnessed the broken expression that inched its way across the mare’s face. Slowly, the Lady turned about, and slipped into her gilded shoes.

“Yes, well, in that matter, I suppose you needn’t worry just yet, Sir Lighthoof,” the noblemare sighed, trying and failing to sound as if she cared little about the matter. “As of this particular moment, there is to be no ‘family’.”

Of course, Adagio knew that there was no other way for the knight to feel besides gladdened by the news. Thus, she refused to set her heart on receiving anything more sympathetic than his silence.

“A… Adagio,” the stallion began, his voice quavering unsurely. “I…”

“Oh, please. Don't you dare act as if you are apologetic. I know you could never be,” the mare droned, passing him a frown.

Prance released an enormous sigh of relief.

“Oh, good then. My face felt as if it would surely split into two.”

Adagio shot him a deeper grimace.

“I only speak earnestly!” the stallion bleated with a shrug. “I believed you favored that quality in me!”

Stabbing him with a lingering glare, the mare stomped her way across his path in the direction of Goldenstalks Manor, a sizeable smudge of gray stone in the distance.

“You know, sometimes I am inclined to believe that you are as frigid as he is.”

“Gio, one moment. I… I apologize,” Prance insisted, realizing too late that his barrage of tongue-in-cheek humor had gone less than appreciated. Still, the mare did not halt. Upon seeing her turn away toward the open fields, the stallion leapt up, and raced to block her path. “Stop, I said!”

“Out of my way, jester,” Adagio exclaimed, levitating him somewhere off to the side with a beam of magic.

“Oy! Stop doing that! I've told you before that I hate it when you do that! An earth pony’s hooves are intended to remain firmly planted upon the earth, blast you!”

Adagio couldn't help but chortle as she watched the startled knight flailing about within a halo of light before hitting the ground with a dull ‘thud’.

“Oh, dear. Have I upset you?” she gibed, pressing a hoof to her lips. “Well, I suppose that makes us even.”

Tossing a stray curl over her shoulder, the golden mare huffed proudly to herself, and again, began her long walk toward home.

“Just one moment! You have yet to sample the apples!” he called out to her, still struggling to turn himself right side up.

“I've had apples before, thank you very much. The estate grows them,” Adagio sighed, flicking her tail at him as she went along her way. “I'm afraid there’s nothing particularly special I've noted about them. To be quite honest, I do prefer them in the form of a fine cider instead.”

“I meant apples grown by ponies who enjoy growing them, ponies whose calling it is to grow them,” Prance pressed, trotting up behind her. “Not the dreadful lot some horde of servants are forced to tend for their Lord.”

“Oh, really? And what is the difference?” the mare yawned boredly.

“Why… the difference is that these apples contain magic! Are you not aware of this? I assumed everypony knew.”

Her ears perked up at the mention of magic. Her legs stalled. In hindsight, she should have known that the knight might take advantage of her race’s inclination toward wizardry and enchantment if it meant he could spend one extra moment with her.

“Magic, you say? What sort of magic?” she scoffed, never admitting that she was, in fact, a bit curious. “And don't you dare get onto any of that silly, rustic ‘earth pony euphemism’ twaddle. It shan’t sway me, I can assure you.”

She received no reply. After a few steps more, her curiosity won the upper hoof. Turning about, she was met with the type of smug grin that only Lighthoof’s face could wear.

“I suppose you must taste one to find out, mustn’t you?” he tittered, turning away confidently to head back toward their resting place. She hesitated behind him for a moment… but only for a moment.

Biting into the fruit was an ethereal experience. Adagio hummed to herself with delight as the shiny, red orb’s sweet juice dribbled down her chin. For once, she didn't care if any stains ruined her fine clothing.

At once, the sky seemed to open up above her, the air became crisper, more fragrant, the colors of the wood and wildflowers more rich, the song of the late afternoon birds more beautiful. If the very essence of nature could be caught up into the tastebuds, it would surely be delivered by way of this single, extraordinary fruit.

Perhaps the astonishment on her face was a bit too apparent. Prance could manage only a snort as he watched her gorge upon the thing. Then after she had finished the first, she drew three more to her side.

“I take it you like them, then,” the stallion chortled, shaking his head.

“Mrph… ish… extr’ordinary!” she mumbled, nearly choking upon her mouthful.

“Well, there is plenty more. Do be careful not to suffocate before you’ve had a chance to try them,” he continued, waiting patiently for the mare to force her bite down.

“Where on earth did you happen upon such exquisite food, Lighthoof? I must know!” Adagio stammered, her eyes wide with wonder. “I must have these all of the time!”

“At market, of course. All of the farmers and gardeners sell their wares there,” Prance shrugged, looking rather nonchalant about the entire thing.

“And… and all of their food is similar to this?” the mare continued.

“Similar... to... what?” the stallion chirped mischievously, his grin growing wider.

“Similar to… similar to…” Adagio murmured, searching for the correct word, “to magic!”

The knight threw his head back, laughing loudly. Adagio failed to catch the humor in this. She was currently far too lost in the revelation of all that had eluded her for her entire life. This entire time, she had been swallowing down fare tended solely upon noble grounds. There, they had been heavily scrutinized by an ignorant unicorn populous that knew very little about such matters as food cultivation, and distrusted anypony else who claimed to know more.

“‘Tis as if I can truly feel the earth. As if I could see the hooves that made this! As if I could see their face!” the mare gasped. “It is… it is... And you say every earth pony can make such wondrous things? With their hooves alone?”

“If it is in that pony’s true calling to do so, then yes,” Prance stated, smiling warmly. “Not all magics are flashy and loud, though I do realize how very much your kind enjoys such gaudiness.”

Amongst all of these new realizations, something could no longer sit quite right in Adagio’s mind. It was unsettling, pondering upon the lives of those she had rarely been inclined to notice. The Goldenstalks household was filled to the brim with servants, a few of them unicorns, but the vast majority of them earth ponies. Did all of these ponies have a true calling? Of course, they did; every and any pony who had developed their mark had a calling, and yet so many of them spent their days doing exactly the same humdrum nonsense. Were places like Goldenstalks Manor a trap for them? Was she, as a noble, standing in the way of countless dreams by accepting their labors, day in, day out? Surely, everypony’s calling could not have been but to serve her.

Her mind fell upon Beryl, her faithful, lifelong maidservant who never asked too many questions, never seemed to grow angry or weary in her presence, and never retorted to any of the many offenses Adagio had so callously and carelessly thrown her way over the years. The mare had been the very one to pull her from the sea when they were but fillies, and this was to be her repayment? Serving a selfish, power lusting lady for the rest of her days? What might the earth mare’s true calling have been had she not been subjugated by her own strict and rigid society? What beautiful things might she have created? The very thought made Adagio’s heart ache.

“Lighthoof, how… How can they bear it?” She stammered, motioning her head in the direction of the manor. “All of them, I mean. Spending their lives doing that which they do not wish to?”

At first, the knight seemed a bit confused by this question. Gradually, he came to understand, and nodded his head as if having recalled something long forgotten.

“Well… they simply bear it, I suppose. What else is there to do?”

The answer didn't seem sufficient. It wasn't enough. Still, it wasn't as if she could figure a solution to such a deep-rooted problem. It wasn't as if anypony were daft enough to rebel against the unicorn king himself for their right to contentment and true purpose.

Adagio’s eyes began to water as, slowly, her knees gave way, and she sank to the ground. How terribly unfair this world was to them all. But how much more painful it all seemed when one took the time to hope, and wish, and pray for something better. Perhaps, like Prance had implied, it was more efficient to try not to think on it at all.

Seeing her distress, the stallion saddled up next to her in the grass, and pulled her into a warm embrace.

“Come now, Gio. Cheer up, won’t you?” he urged, lifting her chin with his hoof so that he might stare into her pretty eyes.

“How could I possibly do such a thing when nopony in the world seems free to follow their heart? Not even I!”

A gasp, and then stillness. She had said too much.

Prance sat still beside her. It was clear by his silence that the stallion was now pondering something to himself as well. Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity of holding his breath, he spoke.

“Everypony is free to do as they please. Alas, few realize it, and many more simply ignore it, fearing that it might actually be the truth,” he began, his voice very calm. “Freedom is a choice, Gio. Yours included. All you need do is decide upon what brings you joy, and do it no matter the consequence.”

She couldn't bear to reply. Her eyes were set down toward the grass.

“There shall always be rain and stormy weather, Gio. Might as well get soaked doing what you love, ey?” he chuckled softly, sighing into her mane. A long silence, full of all the voices and visions of nature, dragged on. In that silence, there was something, a feeling passing between them both. It was too big, too honest to decipher outright.

“I wonder what it is like, to live as those earth ponies do,” Adagio mused absentmindedly, looking out toward the fading sun. “To live surrounded by a world that you can actually see, and feel, and taste. A real world.”

Prance was silent for only a moment more. His face had gone all rigid, his eyes glassy, as if he were looking into a future no one else could see.

“Come away with me, Gio,” he sighed as if the notion had been obvious. Ironically, once it was said, it did in fact seem like the most obvious solution in the world to them both.

For a moment, Adagio smiled, thinking his words a joke. When her smile was not returned, it quickly melted into a stunned gawk.

“You cannot say such things. We shouldn't even think it,” she choked, her throat going dry. All of a sudden, her own world full of jewels and wizardry, rules and punishments, came crashing back down around her. “W… we shouldn't be here like this, together! What in Bullion’s name am I doing?”

The golden mare leapt to her hooves, looking completely panicked.

“Only that which brings you happiness,” Prance replied gently, wanting to keep her calm.

“That which brings me—” Adagio bleated. “Do you have even the slightest inkling of what would happen if he were to ever discover…”

Prance shrugged and shot her that same grin.

“Rain and stormy weather would be my wager,” he chirped, flicking his tail about.

Adagio, now frustrated, bore down upon her forehooves. Her horn glimmered the slightest shade of ruby.

“It is not a joke, Lighthoof.”

Prance’s smile fell. He now appeared offended, bruised.

“Do you realize what would happen to us? To you?” the mare continued on.

The stallion rose to his legs, and advanced upon her, not caring that she shrank at the sight of him.

“I don’t care,” he replied, his voice’s calm facade masking his rage. “I don't care because I love you more than I could ever fear him or anypony else.”

He stubbornly plopped down to his haunches.

The air went still, nearly unbreathable. Adagio’s legs, having gone weak again, collapsed from under her, sending her crashing to the ground. She could think of nothing to say.

“Say that you don't love me, Gio,” the stallion pressed, his Violet eyes burning. “Tell me that you wish to live that kind of life forever… with him.”

Prance’s demand hung heavily in the air, urging Adagio to panic, to forgo reason for sensation and emotion. She had nearly moved to reply in his favor, to spit out how much affection she held for him, until cold reality again yanked her backward by its sturdy leash. The mare was obliged to think objectively once more. Feeling unsettled within herself, she sighed after much pondering.

“Come. Sit with me,” she requested. Prance didn't move, far too agitated and upset by her hesitancy. “Please, Lighthoof.”

At last, after much hesitation, he made his way over, and sat down at her side. The unsettled rumble in his chest set her on edge. Still, there was nothing to be done but answer truthfully.

“Of course, I desire this life,” she began. At these words, Prance leapt to his hooves, and took a furious step toward his large, stone home, a short distance away. “Please! Lighthoof, please allow me to finish!”

The stallion froze in his steps, shook the excess rage away, and rounded back toward her. This time, when he again sat down, he did not look her way.

“I desire this life, and I also wish to stay beside you,” she finished. Noting the perplexed look on the knight’s face, she opted to continue. “There has always been something about the world that seemed both harsh and cruel to me. I have never possessed the capability of adapting to it as its subject; only its master. I find that my hooves detest labor though its fruits I truly admire. I yearn for comfort and predictability though I find the natural world and its mysteries enthralling beyond measure. I desire leisure simply because it is not toil, and yet a missed childhood spent running and playing in the sun shall forever prove one of my greatest regrets. I desire power that would make it impossible for anypony to curse me with such wondrous things as these, things that I both love and despise. I am a selfish pony, Lighthoof. This is truth. Now, tell me, how might I have all these things in the ways that I desire?”

Prance remained silent as he mulled her words over.

“Well… you don't,” he stated finally. “There is no such life. No matter which path anypony may choose, disappointment shall surely find us all eventually. The best we can do is try to ensure that our own unhappiness is not of our own doing, and does not befall us because we are afraid.”

He gazed at her, all deflated.

“As I said before, Gio: choose. Choose what it is that you desire most, and just see.”

There was something roiling inside of Adagio. It grew quickly, and soon she found herself brooding, angered by the notion that she be required to make such a difficult decision. Her eyes were aflame when she peered at him.

“I defy that. I want it all,” she hissed, much to Prance's surprise. The heat consumed her. Suddenly, she was seeing red. “I defy anything that stands in the way of my having all that I desire. Why can’t I? If I could have the power, then I could also have whatever it is I please!”

The stallion edged back, not quite sure what to make of this reaction.

“My home, my comforts… you!” she croaked, her voice breaking. The sound of her own despair deflated her until she was sobbing beside him in a tired, little heap. “Why can I not remain here and have you as well? Why must I choose when… when I am so frightened and hungry for both?”

Her tears were stalled when soft fur nuzzled her cheek. The knight rested his head upon her back.

“You must choose so that you might become your true self, Gio. Your many trappings and treasures are not who you truly are. They are only the fears that you have piled up all about you. You are not selfish, and you most certainly are not cruel.”

“Is that right, Lighthoof?” she sniffed, her pride returning. “Then who am I, since you know so very well? Enlighten me, that I might have a glimpse at this selfless mare.”

“Do you not remember her?” the stallion chuckled, leaning in closer. “The little filly who chided me about her robes, and then proceeded to ruin them whilst vanquishing me in a competition of ball kicking?”

The tiniest smile—a ridiculing one, albeit—cracked Adagio’s lips.

“Whipped the tail off of you, I did,” she sniffed again.

Prance laughed.

“Do you not also remember the young mare who dreamt of dancing in the town square? The mare who soiled her hooves picking wildflowers for her mane though the Lady of the house would scold her? The mare who sang her entire soul to the King’s court no matter the consequence? The caring mare who cleaned and dressed my wounds after I’d spent the entire day in training? The mare of infinite patience who—”

“Caring? Patience?” Adagio snorted. “I threw double distilled cider on your bruises, and demanded that you to stop crying like a little colt.”

Prance chuckled, though his smile faltered.

“Ye’ bandaged me as well, if I am recalling it correctly, but that is beside the point. The point is that nopony else cared to do even that much,” he murmured, nudging her in the side. “Not even father. He told me to shut it and be a stallion.”

“Is that true? Sir Race said that?” Adagio inquired, slightly astonished. “Bullion, you were but a colt.”

“I was,” Prance sighed, looking off dreamily into the darkening sky. “And yet, I could see you. I still see you... and your heart, despite your claims that it does not exist. That mare is not gone away from you. She is merely hiding, methinks, attempting to protect herself from hurt or harm.”

There was a beat of silence.

“That is why I refuse to be satisfied with the way things are. Though she has had to wear this silly mask all her life, she chose to show me, of all ponies, who she truly was. For that I am grateful. For that, loving her cannot be helped. ‘Tis shameful that you might never understand how very beautiful that mare is. ‘Tis a shame the world may never truly see that mare whilst she leads the life that she does, whilst she resides beneath his roof, his rule.”

The evening had settled in around them. The only light upon the earth emanated from the glow of Prance’s nearby home, and the distant glimmer that was Goldenstalks manor. Adagio sat still, enveloped by the warmth of him as she willed her brain to work, to decide, to force her to say something. Instead, she leaned down, took another bite of an apple, and watched as the sights and sounds of night opened up to her for the very first time.

“I must return,” she eventually murmured, sounding unenthusiastic about it. “Swear that I shall see you here when I come again tomorrow. Swear to me that you shall wait. Allow me some time to… to ponder upon it.”

Prance passed her a faltering smile, noting that the mare had never returned his confession of love.

“I shall remain here, My Lady,” he sighed, looking up toward the stars. “On the morrow, and the next day, and the next.”

His smile turned mischievous. The sight of it was comforting to the mare.

“And on the morrow, we shall see who beats the hooves off of whom in our race across the field.”

Adagio giggled. Forgetting herself, she nuzzled her nose against his.

“You'd better pray for Celestia’s grace now that I've discovered how swift I can be without this accursed frock,” she laughed. The sound was silenced when Prance leaned in to kiss her.

For a moment, she didn't realize what had taken place, only that it felt like fire, and unlike anything she had felt before. Then, upon regaining her senses, she wrenched her head away from him. The look in her eye was startled, terrified.

“You are far too bold, Sir,” she gasped, covering her mouth with a trembling hoof. “You mustn’t ever do such a thing again. If the Earl were to find out...”

“Ah, to Tartarus with him,” Prance snarled, advancing again to press his lips against hers. He pulled her close, holding her there until she managed again to shove him away.

“Lighthoof, please,” she whimpered.

It was so very curious, this feeling. Suddenly, she found that all the strength in her limbs had drained away as a sweet haze traveled up from her hooves all the way to the top of her head. Shoving the stallion away seemed dishonest, irrational, maddeningly silly; nothing in her wanted to be anywhere else but close to him. She could smell the wonderful, earthy scent of him when he kissed her again and again, and deemed it better, more invigorating than the most magic-filled apple. Driven downward, she opened her eyes to find herself surrounded by green on all sides, and of course, her beloved’s purple eyes, like stars up above.

“I cannot,” she groaned, feeling more at war with herself than ever before in her life. She closed her eyes, and turned her head away. Perhaps when they again opened she’d be safe in her dreary bed, beside her dreary husband, inside of her dreary manor, living her dreary life.

“Where is she? That mare I once knew?” the knight whispered, breathing in the scent of the fur upon her belly. “Tell me... What would she say?”

She heard him hold his breath. The air went still around them as if the entire evening were waiting for her reply. Eventually, she worked up the courage to face him again, to stare into those eyes she had come to adore. Sighing out all of the conflict in her heart, she parted her trembling lips to speak. For a moment, she hesitated… but only for a moment.

“I love you.”

Her hooves stumbled clumsily through the lamplit, velvet-lined hallway as she made the trek toward her chambers. She resembled a frightening spectre, and went along as if invisible to the startled servants who watched her pass. Her face was flushed. One moment, she caught herself giggling in euphoria, the next, crying tears of despair. The sweet nectar of everything wondrous that she had only just discovered still clung heavily to her lips. Flower petals fell like pink snowflakes from her curls, leaving a telling trail in her wake.

No… Yes… NO, NO, NO!…

She smiled to herself, though her cheeks were streaked and shiny. Shaking her head, she attempted in vain to fight off torturous memories. Teetering and tottering, eventually she managed to flounder through the manor’s empty solar and into her bower where she knew Beryl would be awaiting her.

When the two mares’ eyes met, they met with complete understanding. Beryl was biting down upon two swathes of fabric that, a moment to prior, she had intended to show her mistress. Now, she simply stood there staring, her bottom lip trembling with worry. When the weeping Countess rushed forward and fell into her embrace, she held her close, gently brushing the petals from her frazzled locks.

“Please, My Lady. Please don't cry,” the maidservant whimpered, holding the golden mare closer.

“Beryl,” Adagio lamented, “my oldest friend, who gave unto me my entire life. I must beg your forgiveness.” Her weary eyes stared down at the earth mare’s cutie mark as if seeing it for the very first time. It depicted a heart-shaped key encrusted with a beautiful rainbow colored set of gemstones.

“W… what for, Mum? Tell me what has happened,” Beryl stammered in shock, her eyes now tearing as well. It was as if she could already see the truth in her mistress’ eyes.

“I’ve betrayed your gift. I've done something unforgivable,” the Countess croaked, her lips stretching into the most genuine smile she had worn in years, “and I’m not sorry.”

And then she laughed and laughed.

—--

“One sea green silk robe—stitched by my personal tailor, of course—and one case of morganite,” the Duchess tittered. “Forgive my not providing emeralds, my dear, but I imagined that these might look all the lovelier against that beautiful fur of yours.”

Adagio stood stark still as a house servant bumbled about her, delivering these precious gifts unto the sheepish pink earth mare now in her line of sight. The mare bowed low whilst gazing shamedly at the floor, then bit her lip hard as if willing her mouth to open.

“My sincerest thanks, Your Grace. I am most humbled by your generosity,” Themis squeaked, afraid to move an inch, or look anywhere in the vicinity of Adagio’s face.

“Nonsense,” Adagio sighed. “This isn't generosity. It is penance! I have done you a great wrong, Miss Themis, and I do intend to compensate you well for your suffering—Oh! Nearly slipped my mind!”

Motioning toward yet another servant standing to her rear, the Duchess urged her forward so that she might plop a large, heavy satchel upon a nearby table. She then lumbered away, rubbing at her back.

“Seven hundred bits,” the unicorn mare stated plainly, nodding her head. When she looked again, Themis had lifted her gaze from the floor. The earth mare’s mouth hung open.

“Y…Your Grace, this is far too much. It is enough that you should be burdened with entering my unworthy home!” she stammered, directing a hoof toward the gigantic and quite lavish flat around her. “I cannot accept all of this.”

“Of course you can,” Adagio chirped, putting on a very fake smile, and waving the matter away with a hoof. “You must! I wouldn't have it any other way.”

With that, the noblemare hitched up her hems, adjusted her mane, and turned to leave, in quite a rush to escape Themis’ presence.

“And do call upon me should you require any other form of assistance. I am obliged to be of service to you.”

Quite literally, this was the truth. It was bad enough that she was made to suffer the embarrassment of facing Themis alone—a feeling that was mutual, apparently—but for Upright to prolong the torture by forcing her to show favor to the mare only seemed cruel. They were not friends. After their evening at the ball, how could they ever be?

“Oh, please allow me to escort you to your carriage, Your Grace. It is the least that I can do,” Themis gasped, bounding forward to draw the door open for the Duchess.

Seeing that the mare was determined to dote upon her, Adagio sighed, rolled her eyes, and nodded her head. No use arguing. It would only prolong the dreadful occasion.

Stepping out into the courtyard, the noblemare proceeded toward her carriage. Upon spotting her mistress, Beryl, who had been standing anxiously by the buggy’s side, darted toward her at once. They met in the space between the carriage and the apartment building’s grand steps.

“Your Grace!” the maidservant panted. “I’ve something to show you!”

It was only then that Adagio spotted the ornately carved wooden box sitting atop the mare’s back.

“You've received a gift!”

“A gift?” Adagio inquired, using her magic to hoist the box before her for inspection. “It is a bit late, isn't it? Who is it from?”

Beryl raised her forelegs to direct her mistress’ attention to a distant point beyond the gates and across the wide, cobblestone road. In that direction stood a sizeable mansion, not too large, unlike her own home, but big enough to assume its inhabitants at least gentry, lower nobility at best.

Taking a few steps past the carriage and toward the gate, Adagio could make out the sprawling yard in front of the home, a rather uncharacteristic amount of green for a large, Canterlot-based dwelling. In the yard, growing thick, and perfectly tamed, were blossoms and all other manner of small shrubberies alike.

The mansion itself ascended for three stories before it tapered off flat at the top where one, large, yellow flag was planted. Upon this flag was a rather ornate depiction of a four leaf clover and a pair of initials too ornate to decipher outright.

“Interesting,” the noblemare hummed, scanning the odd structure. “What did they say their names were? Did they seem mannerly?”

“Forgive me, Your Grace, but I never met them,” Beryl murmured. “Their housemare approached me, and told me that the family of the house wished to pay their respects. When I pressed her for more information, she simply said that they were a wealthy couple, somewhat new to town, and very much private.”

The Duchess hummed to herself as she opened the box—at a bit of a distance—and peered unmoved into the fine vessel. It was filled to the brim with lovely, rainbow shimmered pieces of ebony-colored stone.

“Black opal!” she gasped. However, her astonishment by this discovery quickly fell away in lieu of suspicion. “Curious, indeed. I've never before received such a gift.”

Intent on delving until she got to the bottom of this little mystery, Adagio utilized her magic to momentarily enhance her sight. Then, stepping forward, she peered into the windows of the mansion, now on the hunt for clues to the couple’s identity.

“I've met them, Your Grace,” Themis piped up bashfully. “They are not very young or fresh, but they are kind, quite generous.”

“Or very eager to enter into the good graces of the rich and powerful,” Adagio posed, working her jaw.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that, Your Grace,” Themis giggled. “They are very… how do you say? Down to earth? The wife, she loves to bake, and she and her husband both tend to that gorgeous yard completely on their own!”

“Do pipe down, Miss Themis. I’m trying to concentrate,” Adagio sighed, silencing the already jittery mare for good. Thus far she hadn't managed to catch much through the windows. A maid here, a housecolt there. Still, she did not give up. Her curiosity was only piqued by the absence of this supposedly kind-hearted couple with the strange home.

It was in the last panel that she saw them: a pair of finely dressed earth ponies—which made sense—not young, but not far too old either. They sat a ways back from the dim window facing one another, laughing and contentedly gazing into each other's eyes. There was something both charming and beautiful about such a sight, knowing that riches and time didn't necessarily have to spell doom for love.

A smile barely cracked the Duchess’ lips as she watched them talk over their tea, but almost as quickly, her brow furrowed when she witnessed them both look up as if somepony else had entered the room. Her heart leapt when she discovered who it was: a young colt, rosey-cheeked, with fur the same tone as theirs, though she couldn't quite make out the exact shade. Adagio’s smile grew bright as she watched the lady of the house giggle at the sight of what was surely her playful little son. She picked him up into her lap, and passed him a biscuit from the table. Hugging him close, she began to rock him back and forth, singing some unheard tune into his ear.

Gradually, Adagio allowed her magic to fade. Her eyes were glistening as she sniffed away a warm sensation she had not felt in so long.

That couple—Why couldn't she and the Duke be more like them? They were kind, trusting, close, communicative, and full of love for one another, something she and the Duke most certainly were not. What was their secret? How did they manage to remain so bonded? Was the reason because they didn't seem driven for grandeur or glory like the other nobles she knew? What happened, she wondered, when ponies stopped caring so completely for their possessions, and just a little more for one another?

After a bit of pondering and staring, Adagio finally swiped some moisture away from her eye, and turned to approach her buggy.

“Come along, everypony. We shan’t keep His Grace waiting,” she tittered to the guards who drew the carriage.

“Your Grace!” the four stallions trumpeted with a strong salute.

Bracing onto Beryl’s foreleg, Adagio stepped up into the buggy. “And do remind me to pen a thank you letter to… to whoever those ponies are.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Beryl agreed.

The maidservant turned to curtsy for Themis only to find the pink mare already bowed low to the ground.

“It has been an honor, Your Grace,” she chirped, passing that same, beautiful smile Adagio’s way.

In light of the happy couple she had just witnessed, the Duchess couldn't help but remain in her pleasant mood.

“Trust that I shall surely call upon you again, Miss Themis. Do take care.”

With that, Beryl closed the carriage’s door, and they were off.

The ride back to Greenwaters was silent and rather tense. Leave it to Upright to ruin the pleasant mood of any situation.

The entire time, he sat across from Adagio, silently levitating from a collection of scrolls sorted neatly into a pile by his side. He seemed stoic, deep in thought, and somewhat upset. His quill worked tirelessly as sparks escaped from his horn. No sooner had a document been written or signed did it then bind itself, disappearing off to its intended recipient in a flash of bright orange. Those letters not intended for mailing would fall into a stack on the stallion’s opposite side.

Despite her husband’s usual, tireless work ethic, his mannerisms this evening still put Adagio on edge considering all that had transpired the day before. Straightening her hyacinth pin, she leaned over the side of the carriage to pass Beryl an unsure look—one the earth mare returned in kind. She then turned toward the Duke.

“My Lord, are you neither hungry nor thirsty? We two have been riding for an entire half day and you have yet to—”

“Not right this minute, Ada. I'm in the middle of something,” the stallion grumbled, his eyes never wavering from the page.

The Duchess thought to herself for a moment, then took another deep breath.

“Themis’ new neighbors sent us a gift.” Quickly, she lifted the wooden box sitting in her lap, and opened it for the Duke to inspect. “Black opal! Isn’t it curious?”

“Quite,” the stallion replied, never once looking up. Another letter rolled itself tight, and disappeared in a burst of light.

Adagio raised a brow, hesitating with herself. Gradually, she closed the box of jewels.

“What is it that has you so preoccupied, My Lord, if you don't mind my asking?”

“To be quite honest, Ada, I do,” the stallion huffed, dipping his quill back into its levitated inkwell. “None of it concerns you after all.”

He paused.

“Well, actually, that is a bit of an untruth. Some of it does concern you.”

Adagio and Beryl again passed each other nervous glances.

“I… it does!” the Duchess nearly choked. “And in which way does it concern me, My Lord?”

“Oh, you needn't worry yourself with such things at the moment,” the stallion hummed. It was then that, for the first time since their ride began, he looked up, and passed her that same prodding smile he had given her the evening prior. “You shall know soon enough.”

The stallion then returned to his work as if nothing odd had taken place at all.

Adagio heard her maidservant stumble a step where she trotted beside the carriage. The Duchess’ head felt light. Increasingly, fear and paranoia were beginning to take hold of her. A slight tremble worked its way up from her tail, and traveled into her back.

Upon seeing her distress, Beryl cleared her throat to draw her mistress’ attention. When she had gotten it, she gestured for the noblemare to keep her chin up. Yet both of their expressions were frightened and regretful, relaying secrets which they could not speak aloud.

They reached Goldenstalks manor on the afternoon of the following day, all of them achey, crumpled, and weary. Upon exiting the carriage as it pulled up to the manor entrance, Upright was met by Spitshine, a servant of his household. Without hesitation, the earth stallion rushed toward him appearing somewhat uneasy.

“I take it they have arrived?” the Duke inquired, looking the nervous brown stallion over.

Spitshine nodded frantically.

“Y...yes, Your Grace. They are awaiting you in the parlour,” he stammered, seemingly wrestling with himself over the matter of whether to continue speaking. “F…forgive me, but please hurry, Your Grace. The two of them frighten me very much! The big one seems strong and quick to anger. He may break something...something expensive, and I just dusted that room this afternoon!”

The Duke rolled his eyes at the irritating sound of the servant pony’s whining. Sighing heavily to himself, he turned to face Adagio who was now stepping from the carriage, looking every last bit apprehensive.

“Of whom does he speak, My Lord?” she inquired, unable to hide the coldness in her tone. “Are we receiving guests? Already?”

“I'm afraid I must be off, Ada,” the stallion sighed, ignoring her questions. “If you would be so kind as to join me in the parlour after you are settled, there is somepony that I would very much like for you to meet.”

With that, he turned and walked away briskly, Spitshine skipping along behind him. When they were gone, Adagio turned to Beryl, a wary look upon her face. The maidservant, determined to complete whatever task her mistress might ask of her next, set her jaw and stood up straight.

“Beryl? Investigate,” the Duchess commanded. Without another word, the earth mare nodded, and quickly raced off into the manor.

By the time she had washed and dressed, Adagio felt more tired than when she had arrived. Glancing herself over in the mirror, she quickly adjusted her hems, her mane, and of course, that infernal green pin upon her collar before exiting the chamber.

The hall beyond the parlour door was uncharacteristically quiet for this time of day. The Duchess supposed that perhaps Upright, busy with his oh so very important guests, had not wished to be disturbed by servants bustling to and fro in the corridor. Perhaps he had frightened them all off.

From a few steps away, she could see that the room’s door had been left ajar. Daylight poured from it and into the hall. Another step, and now she could barely make out voices, one of them clearly female, the other male, but neither of them familiar. In fact, upon first listen, they both sounded uncharacteristically grim for anypony that she might have been acquainted with.

Thinking little of this, she approached the door without hesitation, and moved to turn into the room.

Suddenly, a loud hacking noise echoed off of the walls, followed by the distinct sound of splattering liquid. Adagio froze to her spot just beyond the entrance.

“Whot is this swill? It tastes like dirt!” the male voice bellowed. A familiar ruffling noise that Adagio couldn't quite place followed this exclamation.

“I believe it to be tea,” the female voice replied calmly—almost coldly. She received an unpleasant grunt in response.

“Well, it's right disgustin’!” the unknown stallion retorted.

“Please, can we return to the matter at hoof?” an irritated voice, clearly the Duke’s, bid them both. “I've traveled very far today, and would very much like to complete our conversation as quickly as possible.”

Another grunt from the mysterious guests.

“Well, idonno! Can we complete this ‘ere conversation? One would think a fine chap such as y’self could afford to part with a bit of cider upon receiving such very important guests!” the male voice bleated, his tone full of sarcasm. It made Adagio smile to imagine Upright on the receiving end of it. Just who were these two amazing ponies, anyway?

“Would you control him, Miss? Or shall I?” Upright growled, imploring the mare to do something.

“I'd like to see you try it, ol’ frilly fetlocks!” the male stranger bellowed. “Should be good for a bit of a laugh!”

Adagio stifled a laugh of her own out in the corridor.

“He does as he pleases,” the mystery mare clarified in her grim fashion. “Or if there is a problem, we could both leave now, and save you the trouble.”

A heavy silence ensued as Adagio imagined it might after such bold commentary. She heard the tapping of a hoof upon wood, followed by a heavy sigh.

“Beryl? Fetch the cider,” the Duke murmured.

“At once, Your Grace,” a familiar voice replied gently. The sounds of purposeful hoofsteps could be heard making their way across the floor.

“Yea, Beryl, my flower! Do hurry along now, and fetch the cid—OW!”

“Leave the maidservant be,” the grim mare commanded.

Again, Beryl’s hoofsteps made their way toward the door, faster this time. As she approached, Adagio could hear her frantic breath. Turning the corner, the earth mare barreled headlong into her mistress. By some miracle, the both of them managed not to make a sound.

“Are you alright?” the Duchess silently mouthed to the startled mare, stroking at her mane. Beryl nodded, forcing her mistress back, away from the threshold.

“My Lady,” she mouthed in return. “Stay away!”

Leaving no room for a reply, the frantic maidservant then initiated a haphazard game of charades, miming half-formed thoughts and indecipherable messages.

“Slowly, Beryl. Slowly,” Adagio bid her.

Attempting to calm herself, Beryl took a deep breath. This time, she very purposefully raised her forelegs, and began flailing them about like a pony whose tail had just caught fire. Upon seeing the confused look on her mistress’ face, she leaned in close, and mouthed something unintelligible, something that looked like...

“Pigsty sanctuaries?” Adagio inquired.

Beryl shook her head, and prepared to try again. However, the sound of the mysterious stallion piping up in conversation and the mysterious mare groaning to herself with piquing interest, was enough to frighten the poor thing away.

Ever adamant, Adagio did not budge. She was intent on discovering exactly who these two strangers were with as little consequence to herself as possible.

“Shall we continue?” Upright sighed.

Adagio could hear the shuffling of a few pages.

“Now then, what did you say your talents were?”

“As my name implies, I am capable of utilizing sound and its movement to decipher the location of anything bigger than... say… a large rat,” the female voice replied. There was a pause. “Even still, if I am in an enclosed space, I could probably find the rat, as well.”

Adagio heard that strange ruffling sound again.

“Naturally, my abilities do require that I work alongside a partner who knows how to make themselves discreet. He is the stealthiest pony you shall ever know, despite his mouth. No target has ever managed to see him coming.”

Adagio, now rather unnerved, rubbed her hooves together as she listened to her husband grunt.

“None of them?” the Duke inquired.

“Out of one hundred, none,” the female finished. “In summation, I can find anything, and he can catch anything. For what you have brought us on to do, we should prove more than efficient.”

“We also do audits,” the mystery stallion added. One could practically hear the proud grin in his voice. His partner, apparently not as enthused, sighed loudly.

“Bit borin’ of a job, if I do say so myself, Prince Charmin’,” the mare’s partner continued on. “I ain’t anypony’s wetnurse, if you catch my meanin’. Boh, a’least you’re decent enough to pay us well.”

“Oh, I wouldn't call it boring just yet, my friend. Who knows. This Duchess could be full of surprises,” the mystery mare chuckled.

Adagio could now hear her shuffling about on her seat.

“By the way, Sir, are you aware that somepony has been lurking outside of that doorway for the past fifteen minutes?”

“What?” the Duke exclaimed.

Adagio gasped when she heard him rise out of his seat. She retreated backward, but not fast enough to avoid being surrounded by a paralyzing glow of orange magic. It collected her up into the air, and promptly delivered her into the chamber where, to her dismay, she finally met face to face with the Duke’s two guests: a stark white pegasus mare, mane and eyes all a striking silver, and a dark grey pegasus stallion, eyes a poisonous, glistening green. The both of them were clad in a shiny, metallic black.

At last, Adagio understood what it was that Beryl had mouthed to her in the corridor: pegasus mercenaries.

The both of them grinned brightly at her as the pupils of their eyes did that horrible thing predators of the air did when they wished to get a better gander at something in the distance.

“Well, well!” the pegasus stallion lilted, his wings shuffling with excitement. The white mare said nothing, choosing instead to brood as the glow around Adagio’s body dimmed then disappeared.

“Ada, why the jewel are you sitting in the dark?” the Duke chided her, ignoring the pegasi. “Do you not realize how impolite it is to keep our guests waiting?”

“I… I was simply…” the Duchess stammered, her eyes darting about, “adjusting my robes!”

The pegasus stallion snorted at these words, passing her a cheeky grin. His mare partner smiled. Adagio was almost certain that the two could tell that she was lying. Still, mustering up some courage, she straightened her back out, and lifted her horn high.

“My Lord, what exactly are these two… creatures doing in our home?”

The smiles fell away from the winged pair’s faces in an instant. Their feathers ruffled and stood on edge as they eyed her menacingly. Before the Duke could reply, the dark stallion made a big to-do about rising from his sitting cushion to approach her.

“Supposin’ that enormous forehead blemish o’ yours grants you the right to judge others, ey?” he growled, rounding about the Duchess. “And what say you if I call your kind ever sour-faced and tight in the hind quarters, with all of your smelly rules and robes?”

If the insult had not been meant for her, Adagio might have laughed at the distorted, puckered expression the pegasus was now making.

“A pain in my wing,” the large stallion growled, hunkering down low to meet the Duchess at eye level, “all of you Thorns.”

At the mention of that horrid word, Adagio gasped. Instinctively, her hoof cocked backward, then swung forward, its full brunt aimed at the pegasus’ jaw. Before she could land the strike, however, a spark of orange collected about the horrid stallion’s neck, and hoisted him high into the air.

The pegasus choked and gagged as, slowly, the orange glow surrounding his head turned him about to face the Duke. Fire was now raging in the unicorn stallion’s eyes. He said nothing at first, waiting until he was composed enough to speak rationally.

“I warned you, did I not?” he hissed.

The ensnared pegasus, now looking to his partner for aid, only received a weary shrug for his trouble.

“He did warn you,” the white mare sighed boredly.

“Speak to Her Grace in that manner ever again, and I shall be sure to make an earth pony out of you,” the Duke growled. A nearby window magically opened itself up wide somewhere to his right. “Am I making myself clear?”

The dark stallion nodded obediently, desperate for air.

“Very good,” Upright finished. Then, without any hesitation, he tossed the stallion headlong through the opened window. Its panels slammed themselves shut behind him.

Echo laughed with satisfaction at the apparently cruel fate of her partner. Then, as if a switch had been flipped somewhere in the depths of her dark mind, her expression grew grim once more.

“Well, now I'm bored,” she sighed. Rising to her hooves, she turned to face the Duke. “If there is nothing else, then I think I shall take my leave as well. I suppose you can forget the cider.”

“Just one moment, Miss Hum,” the Duke coughed. Rising to his hooves as well, he passed the mare a disingenuous smile. “Since you currently find yourself unimpeded by any prior engagements, I trust that you shall be able to explain our arrangements to Her Grace. Am I correct in saying so?”

Echo said nothing, staring at him for what seemed to be an eternity before rolling her silver eyes.

“Very… well...” she growled through her teeth, turning to eye the Duchess.

“Good. Well, if that is everything, then I think I shall retire for the day,” the Duke finished before rounding past Adagio who still remained startled and silent in the center of the floor. “Ada, you can trust Miss Hum to inform you of everything that you should know.”

Passing her another one of his knowing smiles, he nodded his head, and silently exited the chamber, leaving Adagio and Echo in the middle of what appeared to be a heated staring contest.

Not one for such useless—and bloodless—forms of competition, Echo was the first to speak.

“Your husband…he is very possessive of his toys, isn’t he?” she chuckled, flipping her mane over one shoulder. She received only a disgusted grimace in return.

Sitting up straight, the pegasus spread her snow white wings.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I am Echo Hum, and my partner’s name is...well, was Silent Wing. We two are—”

“I know who and what you are,” Adagio spat. “What I have yet to understand is why you are here.”

Echo smiled. Stepping forward, she began to circle the Duchess much like her partner did, humming to herself with interest as she studied the mare.

“Between us fillies, let me just say that I understand your frustrations quite well. I've experienced similar problems, if you could believe it.”

“Is that right?” Adagio sighed, unimpressed. “And what might those have been?”

“Why, rueing your life, of course. Hating all of the barriers in your way as well as the ponies who put them there to control you,” Echo replied coldly, her dilating and contracting pupils working over every inch of the Duchess. “I solved my problem eventually, of course, and now am free to live the life of my choosing.”

Adagio hesitated.

“I… How?” was all she could manage. “How did you solve this problem? What did you do?”

Rounding to Adagio’s front, Echo lowered herself to her haunches. Something disturbing and deadly lay within her silver gaze.

“The only thing that was to be done. I solved my problem, by removing my problem. Simple.” She smiled when she noticed the noblemare’s growing discomfort. “Thus, believe me when I say that I find it a shame that we could not be on the same side of things in this, our little ‘arrangement’.”

“And what arrangement is that?” Adagio pressed boldly. “Miss Hum, I do believe you are hesitating.”

The pegasus mare chuckled to herself. Her wings fluttered eagerly. By this time, Silent Wing had managed to make his way back up to the parlour window looking a bit bruised and worse for wear. He now hovered beyond it, tapping upon the glass to draw his partner’s attention. Echo, condemning him to the boring task of waiting, turned to face the Duchess once more.

“On the contrary, Lady Adagio. I was instructed to inform you only of that which is required for you to know.” The white mare’s ear twitched as she rose to stand. Her feathers ruffled as she peered beyond the doorway. “And all that is required for you to know is that my partner and I have never cared much for socializing…”

Rushed hoofsteps approached the door.

“But trust that we relish watching.” The white mare’s eyes descended downward to Adagio’s neckline where her hyacinth pin was displayed. “Congratulations, by the way.”

Suddenly, Beryl came barreling in, a half-spilled pitcher of cider hanging from her mouth. Startled, Adagio spun about to face her.

“Shrry! Shrry!” the earth mare bleated, skidding to a stop before her mistress. “Was prndemonium drwn in the—”

She looked about the otherwise empty room, and spit the pitcher out onto the floor.

“Thistle. Am I too late?”

Exasperated, Adagio turned again to face Echo only to find the mare and her companion both gone. The only evidence of them left were the swinging panels of the now gaping window.

———

Tall grasses licked at her legs as she ran past the garden. Fields flashed in raspberry as she transported herself along the way, trying to pick up more speed. The atmosphere felt too thick to breathe. The sound of her own racing heartbeat pounded in her ears as she raced toward Lighthoof’s house. Considering the notices that Upright had sent off during their ride from Canterlot, Adagio could only assume that the knight had long received his reason to linger upon estate grounds. Fortunately for her, she was correct.

When she found him, the earth stallion was sitting out front of his home, angrily sharpening his blade. An unsealed scroll sat crumpled by his side.

Upon seeing the mare approach, he shot up, snatched up the scroll in his teeth, and made his way toward her. They met on the edge of his yard where he spat the unraveled notice onto the ground at her hooves.

“What in Tartarus is this?” he bellowed. “The King releases me completely to his care! No questions, no complaints!”

Her legs were trembling, her head bowed as she tried in vain to catch her breath.

“You did this, didn’t you?” Prance hissed. “You did this to keep me here!”

Somewhere in the dark beyond of the Sardhoof, a branch crackled. Leaves rustled, and then went still. Her heart ached and her stomach dropped at the noise. There was no knowing. There was no telling, not with those two flying wretches. Thus, there need be no turning back now. What she did, she did for Lighthoof’s own good.

“Him,” the Duchess heaved, straightening her shoulders at last. She lifted her head to peer into those beloved violet eyes.

The stallion went silent. Edging backward ever so slightly, he shot her a curious look.

“What?” he inquired.

A gust of wind passed overhead. The Sardhoof’s canopy hissed, and then simmered into silence. Shadowy shapes that could be mistaken for all they were not peered at her through the darkness.

It had to be done now.

“I’ve made my choice, and I choose him. I choose Upright,” Adagio stated, her eyes never wavering, her voice never shaking. “Lighthoof, we shan’t ever meet this way again.”

Author's Note

Couple things I will now randomly throw at your faces:

-Symbolism. I'm heavy handed with it apparently.
-Flashbacks within flashbacks... It's a thing now. I swear.
-Pegasi are pretty badass in my head.
-Why am I so obsessed with Hummy and Sy? (I gave them nicknames :facehoof: )
-It's not as if I secretly ship them together, and have an entire secret backstory about it in my head or somethin'. You don't know what you're talking about. Hush.

Also...

- ...Don't annoy a full grown unicorn. Just don't.

Things Left Unsaid

I fear I am, at last, losing my mind. Far worse still, I believe I deserve such punishment for what I've done to Beryl, for how I've failed Violet, and for we two…

Certainly, by now you are aware of the entire ghastly ordeal if the Duke is as efficient as he leads everypony to believe. I realize you no longer possess the freedom to wander far, but I do hope you have wisely gone away into town or the countryside. Perhaps it is best to remain there, just until tempers are cooled.

Remember, watch the skies.

Rolling the off-white leaf with her magic, Adagio laid the letter onto the desk, pulled a bit of string from its drawer, and bound the scroll. The walls groaned, startling her into attention. Her eyes darted about briefly before she decided to snuff the lamplight out. She levitated the scroll into the air. In one burst of light, the letter was gone.

Rising to her hooves, she rubbed at her tired eyes, and made her way toward her bower door. Standing before it, she could hear a voice leaking in from the solar. Who could it have possibly been? Strangers weren’t allowed so close to her private chambers, after all.

For a moment, she cared enough about her reputation to attempt to straighten her mane and gown. Then she heard it—the tittering and whining of foals.

“Spirits,” she gasped, her legs trembling. Forgetting her appearance, she fumbled with the lock. Yanking the door open, she stumbled past a maidservant standing nearby—one she did not recognize—and fell onto the floor of her solar. Only the silhouettes of her company were visible against the room’s dim, rose red walls. Her eyes strained to focus on the worn and huddled group. Her brain separated the greater mass into its proper sizes and shapes.

Two tiny twins, Vidi and Vici, one a colt and the other a filly, nestled close upon the floor beneath a warm blanket. Vorant, a rather stocky colt of about fourteen years, lay close by with a protective foreleg gripping the younglings. His eyes were open, but half-lidded—Adagio couldn't decipher whether this was from fatigue or sadness. Sprawled across a large cushion, next to a pile of abandoned books, was Verbena. She was slightly younger than the adolescent colt, and wore a deep set grimace although her eyes were closed. Her back rose and sank in a slow rhythm as she slumbered. Finally, upon another cushion, watching over the young ones, sat two teenage mares. They were embracing one another so tightly that if it weren't for their differing mane colors, one would not be able to tell where one of them ended and the other began. Their eyes were red, swollen, and haloed in a hue darker than the rest of their fur. Velvet, the slightly younger mare, was resting her head in the crook of her sister’s neck. Her body wracked itself with broken-hearted sobs. The lovely Vista held her close, running a comforting hoof down her back, then up, then down again. Her cheeks were wet. She sniffled to herself. Her gaze was unfocused, staring far away into some haunting nightmare.

Upon hearing Adagio stumble and fall into the room, Vista stirred. Her shoulders hunched and stretched when she recognized the familiar face. Even so, she remained silent.

The maidservant, in a panic, helped Adagio off of the floor. The Duchess’ gaze never wavered away from her eldest niece. Vista wore a similarly scrutinizing expression.

Adagio dusted off her nightgown, and cautiously leaned in toward the maidservant. “Beryl,” she began, forgetting that her long-time companion was no longer present, “how much time has passed since their arrival?”

“They arrived to the manor very early this morning, Mum, dragging their hooves all the way,” the attendant said. “Poor things. T’was a bit chilly evening last, too.”

Adagio started at the unexpected tone of the servant’s voice. She stared at the earth mare’s face, studying her whilst reminding herself—for the thousandth time—why Beryl was not present.

The servant kept her gaze directed toward the floor, not proud enough to address the fact that Adagio hadn’t a clue who she was. “Watched ‘em for hours, I did,” the maidservant continued. “They never spoke a word. Barely got a wink of sleep. I wonder why they come so late.”

The earth mare was silenced by the Duchess’ stern glare. Covering her talkative mouth with a hoof, the maidservant took a step backward, and tasked herself with trying to look like a piece of furniture.

Adagio’s gaze again turned to meet her eldest niece. The younger mare’s eyes seemed to say: Approach if you dare share my burden. The Duchess did so without any hesitation.

When she stood before her nieces, she took a deep breath, sighed it out, then lowered herself down to gather them both into her embrace.

Velvet began to cry harder. Vista held her closer.

The mares felt limp to the touch, as if they’d had the wind knocked out of them. Closing her eyes, Adagio breathed in the smell of Vista’s mane, trying, with no luck, to remember something, anything happy. She heard Vista sigh into her shoulder, and knew the younger mare was also searching for some small peace of mind.

“Where is she?” Adagio quavered. Silence passed between them for a long time.

“The west wing,” Vista croaked. She barely sounded like a thing that should possess the ability to talk. “Mother went in to speak with the Duke as soon as we arrived. I imagine she is still there.”

The west wing was, by tradition, a Lord’s wing. It was where Upright’s offices and drawing rooms were located, and ultimately, where he chose to spend most of his time. Any chamber of leisure located therein was sure to be stiff, cold, and simply uncomfortable. Adagio imagined that her sister, having just lost her husband and eldest son, had understandably felt naked, too vulnerable. She was a Lady without a Lord now, a Duchess with no Duchy, and a noble with no home. There was surely a bounty upon her head and those of her children. Perhaps remaining close to Upright was all that she could think of to feel safe. Whatever the reason might have been, Adagio was certain that her sister’s decision had not been a passive one, nor had it been a coincidence.

Knocking upon a door was an unfamiliar sensation, but in this case, Adagio thought it the wisest thing to do. Violet’s chamber door creaked open gently. The bewildered little blue servant filly standing behind it curtsied at once, and stepped aside to allow the Duchess through.

“Leave us,” Adagio bid the child.

The little filly curtsied again. She then hurried from the room, closing the door behind her.

In the low lamplight, something stirred inside of a curtained canopy. A dim, silver glow emanated from within. Adagio found its hue familiar. The shadowed lump beneath the blankets appeared odd, a bit too large. Her eyes were taking their time adjusting from the stark daylight shining out in the corridor. Hooves clacked upon wood. The sound was a lonely one.

“Adagio, dear, is that you?” a voice called. It did not belong to Violet, but was nonetheless familiar. It was a mare’s voice, aged and regal.

The sound of it startled Adagio before everything came together in her head. “M...Mother?” she replied.

The soft, silver glow of light brightened. “Come closer, child.”

It was instinctive that her mother’s voice should make Adagio want to do the complete opposite. Still, she urged herself forward, feeling more and more horrible with every step until, at last, she stood beside the bed.

The same magical aura drew back the curtain to reveal her mother within. The older mare was dressed for the day, sewn and buttoned into her robes as if she were attending court and not her grieving daughter’s bedside. One of her hooves stroked ceaselessly against a curled and shaking lump of white mane, purple fur, and thick blanket. Her other hoof bid Adagio forward.

Adagio moved to step through the canopy, but was stopped midway. “No, Adagio. Not this minute,” the Baroness pressed, casting a telepathy spell to relay her message. The silver glow emanating from her horn cast its light upon Violet. The forlorn unicorn lay huddled nearby her mother.

Obediently standing away, Adagio leaned forward to take a better look at her sister. The Duchess Vision's usually regal pink eyes had been zapped of their vigor, and now gaped wide and hollow into some invisible void. Her face appeared gaunt. Tiny scrapes and scratches marred her once pristine fur. Her long, snow white mane flowed freely as it did during simpler times of her youth. Back then her tresses tumbled about her in gentle, milky waves. In adulthood, they sat upon her crown and shoulders as snow sits upon a mountain's grand facade. But now, in the midsts of her despair, the mass only looked deflated and sad, unruly and drained of all life. Adagio’s beautiful sister, once proud and confident, now seemed withered and small where she lay cloaked beneath the wilted length.

Starry’s silver magic enveloped her daughter’s body. Adagio thought the glow to be a protective gesture until she recognized it as an active spell. “What are you casting, Mother?” she asked the aged lady.

“Rejuvenation,” the Baroness said. “She has been transporting herself and the children past wood, glade, and glen since fleeing Edinbridle. They dared not risk going straight by hoof or carriage.” Starry’s expression grew distraught as she stroked Violet’s mane. “Fortunately, her eldest daughters were able-bodied and skilled enough to cast the spell for themselves. The younglings, however, were enchanted the entire way. She very nearly drained her own magic.”

Adagio’s stomach lurched. Six years she had lived to bear witness to the woes of a unicorn drained of its vitality. She could not imagine her own sister suffering in the same fashion as the Duke's father.

Shaking her head to free it from these thoughts, Adagio then forced her gaze away from her sister, unable to bear the sight of her. Soon, a soft, raspberry glow mingled with silver. “Mother, take your rest. I shall remain here with her,” she said through her spell work.

Echoing crackles knocked about the enchanted pathway between their minds. Starry lifted a hoof to wave her daughter’s comment off. “Do not overextend yourself, Adagio. Rejuvenation is a fickle spell. Moonstone shall arrive shortly. She will see to the rest of it.” A pause as the older unicorn’s gaze traveled down toward Adagio’s collar. “You have removed your pin.”

Leave it to her mother to always stick to her interests concerning noblemares’ matters. “Oh, Mother. I am perfectly capable of tending to my own—”

“This, I understand,” Starry interrupted again, her eyes still trained upon Adagio’s collar. “But I think it would be wise if I should stay.”

Adagio’s brow furrowed. Something wasn’t right. “What is it? What is the matter?” she asked, leaning forward.

Starry hesitated, then sighed. Her stray hoof ran across the bed's velvet blanket. “My daughters. My most beloved things in the entire world… and yet, so very naive,” she murmured. The sound of her voice curled about gently inside of their heads, even whilst Starry began to frown. “There was a way to help Edinbridle, Adagio. There was a way. For all I've done to secure your position in life, I would have hoped that you might turn out wiser, more cunning than this.”

In the succeeding silence, Adagio straightened out her back, glad to look down upon her mother for once. “Mother, how could you?” she hissed. She watched Starry wince as the sound burned in her brain. “How could you say such a thing to me? Violet is my sister. I have tried my best to help her. Truly, I have. You know the Duke never listens!”

“You are too defiant. You are far too headstrong in his presence,” the elder mare replied, glancing off toward some far corner. “Had you submitted to him earlier on in the marriage, I cannot believe that you would still be having this trouble with him now when having his ear is so very crucial.”

Adagio gawked. Her ruby eyes bulged. “Submitted to him?” she squeaked, her ethereal voice filled with indignation. “What more could I have done, Mother? The Duke has the power over my life. He knows this as well as I do. When he bids me to be silent, mustn’t I obey?” Adagio’s temper was rising. “When he bids me to enter or leave his presence, mustn’t my hooves walk where he directs them?” Her horn was beginning to spark. The spell work was coming undone. Small echoes of words escaped out from the walls of her mind and into the thick air of the chamber.

“Young lady!” Starry bellowed, recasting the faltering telepathy spell. Her horn flashed brightly. “How dare you speak to me this way? After all I have done for you? For all three of you?”

Adagio scoffed, shaking her head. “Oh, Mother. I am no longer a filly. Let us stop telling these silly fillyish tales. There is no need for you to pretend that everything you have done, everything you have given us, was not solely an investment in yourself.”

Starry rose to her hooves to face her daughter. The Rejuvenation spell she cast over Violet was momentarily forgotten. Her eyes were on fire. “What do you say to me, filly?” she hissed. “I tire of your insolence. This havoc is wrought with your selfishness and your selfishness alone! It is wrought with your childish dreams of a life and a world that does not exist!”

Adagio scoffed at the irony of her mother’s words. Hadn't she recently told Upright something similar?

The elder mare thought to herself again. “Stay away from Moonstone until you have come to your senses, young lady. I shan’t have you influencing her with anymore of these ridiculous notions.”

“Knowing that her life is her own is far from a ridiculous notion,” Adagio said. The defiant smile she wore grew wider. “What shall the alternative give her? A life like Violet’s?” She directed her chin toward her older sister. “Is that at all better?”

“Your sister suffers for your inaction and your lack of charity and conviction!” Starry bellowed.

“Violet was suffering long before this war, Mother! How can you be so blind?” Adagio retorted. “To have forced a mare like that to marry a pony like Duke Vision was truly a sin! Anypony could have told you; you had only to ask them. If I was old enough to know better, I would have told you myself! Look at what the marriage has done to her! Do you desire this for us all?”

Starry audibly gasped. The sound carried through the air. “You shan’t speak ill of the recently deceased, Miss,” she hissed. “And I desire that my daughters should uphold the name of Glow as the dictate of their duty requires of them! I desire that they act wisely, speak softly, and bend the world with cunning as any true lady should be able to.”

“You mean submit themselves as slaves to ponies who, perhaps one day, might fancy hearing about their troubles,” Adagio shot, turning about to make for the door. She was enraged, and could not tolerate anymore of her mother’s delusions.

“‘Tis better than being branded the harlot of Sardhoof!” Starry screeched out loud, having finally lost her temper. The words echoed off of the stone walls. “Do you not hear what it is the servants say about you? My goodness, do you and your husband never read their minds for clarity at all? The words of those commoners spread to places like the king’s court! Even now the nobles are talking. Horrid rumors. Adagio, I tell you these things because I, too, was young once. I, too, was foolish. I do not wish to see you live a life of suffering.”

Adagio froze. A fresh, more jarring silence stretched on between them. Her body trembled as she turned about to face her mother. There was now a crack in her once defiant smile. “And why should a pony whose life is her own care for what others might say about it?” she asked out loud. Her voice wavered as Starry approached her. The closer her mother got, the more Adagio could make out the daggers in the older mare’s eyes. “Maybe I prefer that they say such things about me.”

Starry was nearly upon her now.

Adagio’s voice grew louder. “Perhaps I am starting to favor the notion that the Duke might one day be rid of me. At least then I would truly be fre—”

A ‘SLAP’ resounded against the chamber walls. Adagio winced as a sting spread across the left side of her face. Her watering eyes gazed off into the corner, stunned. Being the sharp-tongued, quick-witted mare she was, she promptly caught her senses, and forced a wry laugh. She knew the sound would bite into her mother’s terrible hide.

“I’ve lost the foal. That is why my pin is gone,” she spat. Her eyes were set ablaze. A vindictive grin spread across her lips. She delighted in the sight of her mother gasping for words.

“Why do you smile about it, Adagio?” Starry inquired, her voice shaking. “Why do you smile?” As if by its own accord, her hoof rose to strike her daughter again.

Adagio’s horn glowed ruby, and soon, so did her mother’s foreleg. The Duchess shoved the older mare back and watched as her hooves skid across the stones.

Starry’s legs gave one great quake before she collapsed onto her haunches. Her eyes glossed over as she gazed at her daughter. Her lips parted and trembled. She hesitated, then took a deep breath. “Adagio… You didn’t… plan…” The elder mare’s words trailed away. It seemed she already knew the answer to the question she could not ask. “Perhaps I should have had you carried straight away back to that beach where that servant mare found you.” It was clear that the mare was heartbroken, and that she didn't mean a word of what she was saying.

“Perhaps you should have,” Adagio said coldly, turning to make her way toward the door. “Perhaps the bottom of the sea was where I belonged. Truly, I begin to wonder why it ever chose to spit me up into this wretched life at all.”

The two mares never thought to wonder how this spectacle might have looked to their sole audience. Perhaps they'd figured Violet had been rendered far too catatonic to care. Both of them gasped when they heard her sit up in bed.

Violet’s mane had now grown so long that it would drag along the ground were she to stand. It fell about her in disheveled waves. The one pink eye that glared out from beneath her locks bore straight into Adagio. “Mother? Leave us,” she said. Her voice was hoarse, its coldness terrifying. “I wish to speak with my sister, alone.”

Starry, stunned by Violet’s outburst, fought for words. “I… I… Violet, you are very weak still. I do not think it wise to—”

“Mother, please,” the wilted mare groaned, tugging anxiously upon her blanket.

The baroness’ lips drew in tight. She looked worriedly from one daughter to the next, and then stood up. “I shall be taking the children into the Sardhoof. I am certain that Moonstone shall arrive momentarily. Be on your best behaviour… please.” Turning about, she then headed toward the door, leaving her two daughters in a torturous silence.

Violet said nothing, only stared and stared. Her stabbing, pink eye bore into Adagio’s psyche so efficiently that the golden unicorn felt her gaze being forced toward the floor.

Taking a deep breath, Adagio moved forward. She found that she could only manage one step before her courage failed her.

“You may approach, Adagio,” Violet bid her in a monotone. Whatever emotions the withered unicorn was feeling, her speech masked them well.

Adagio obeyed. Without wasting another moment she hurried to her sister’s side, and then stood there gazing down at the sheets.

“You may sit,” Violet added. With her magic depleted, she reached out with a hoof to draw back the curtain.

Again, Adagio obeyed. Gently, she lowered herself onto the cushions, and slid toward the bed’s center. Only then did she allow her gaze to trail upward to meet her elder sister’s. She imagined her actions might have betrayed whatever sense of guilt she had been feeling about all that had happened in Edinbridle. Some part of her hoped that Violet would notice this guilt so that she might have some satisfaction amidst her despair.

Violet, instead, settled back into her pillows, and braced herself against the bed's headboard. She closed her eyes, and sighed out her aches. “Be a dear and cast the Rejuvenation, won’t you Gio?” Her words were weak, pleading.

“O… of course!” Adagio replied with a nod. In an instant, her horn had begun to glow, and in another instant the glow had surrounded her sister’s body.

Violet winced as the spell hit her, but soon nestled into its comforting sensation.

Only when Adagio thought her sister was again settled did she attempt to speak. “Vee,” she groaned, “I… I do not know what to say.”

Violet said nothing. A small crease appeared on her brow.

Adagio lowered her gaze when she noticed the slight change in her sister's expression. “I tried, Vee. Truly I did.” Adagio’s mind was increasingly drawing a blank. Even she no longer knew whether or not she was telling the truth. “Forgive me. I am so very—”

“Gio,” Violet croaked, cutting her off, “this is what I wished to address. I know Mother, and I know what it is she makes you feel about… about all of this havoc.” The wilted mare gathered her mane up neatly and pulled it to one side so that she might face her sister with some coherency. “Do not listen to her, Adagio. You are not to blame for any of it. This… this all was of my husband’s and my doing. As much as I had grown to love him, I can no longer continue to delude myself about what he… what we had become.”

Adagio grimaced at her words. “No, Violet. You are nothing like what Vision was. You are kind, and forgiving, and wise, and understanding!”

Violet only stared. “Is that what you truly believe, Adagio?” she asked. Her voice remained just as dead as her expression. “Do you believe that I am kind and forgiving, and that my husband alone brought this upon us all?”

“Yes! Yes, with all of my heart! I do believe it!” Adagio said without hesitation. Her voice wavered and cracked. She reached forward to touch her sister’s foreleg.

And Violet stared. No emotion. Her piercing eyes scanned Adagio from top to bottom and then to top again.

Adagio sensed that there was something being said to her in that silence. Yet, amidst her distress, she could not decipher what this message could be. Not caring to wait until she could figure the unspoken words, she lunged forward and gathered her older sister into an embrace. There was a beat in which neither of them moved. Adagio felt a pair of weak forelegs wrap around her middle.

“It is I that now brings war to your doorstep, Sister,” Violet murmured. Her hoof pressed into Adagio’s back.

The golden mare pulled away. The shock that Violet’s words inflicted clouded their true meaning. “W...what?” Adagio stammered.

“There is nowhere else to flee. I no longer know who is friend or foe. I cannot return to father. You know the legions stalk his estate. Many of those nobles who once smiled in my face would just as soon gift me to those pegasi in exchange for protection. It is only our kinship in marriage that shames the Duke into allowing me to stay,” Violet whimpered. “Edinbridle is fallen, overrun with earth traitors who would side with the invaders from the sky. Now, they search for me. They will stop at nothing to have me, and to have my children paraded through the streets of my city in shackles and enchanted rings. Please understand, Adagio, that nopony, not even your husband would fight for us. And how could he? Look at what has happened to any noble who has come to our aid.”

Adagio could hardly bear her sister’s words. The pain was too great. “Violet…” she choked.

“And so…” the older mare continued softly, “I have decided to surrender myself.”

“Violet!” Adagio shouted, shaking her sister at the shoulders. “What are you saying? No! Never!”

“Listen to me, Adagio!” Violet bellowed. Her eyes were sharp, focused, completely coherent. “My story is already ended. My husband and eldest son are dead. I am nothing now if not for whatever parts of me live on in my family.”

“That is not true, Violet,” Adagio hissed, trembling with indignation. “Edinbridle is one of the largest seats of power in the land, and it is yours now. You are Duchess. By Bullion, pull yourself together and act like one!”

“I cannot lose my children, and I cannot lose you!” Violet wailed frantically. “I couldn’t bear to continue living if it were to happen.”

Guilt continued to wrack Adagio. Her head swept from side to side. Her mind was unwilling to accept what her sister was saying. “No, Violet. I shan’t allow it.”

“Then you condemn us all, innocent and guilty alike,” Violet said. “Adagio, everypony in the kingdom knows that we are kin. The horde is on Sardhoof’s doorstep even now, just as they are on father’s. They will burn all of these lands to ashes, and scatter it all with their wings. They will destroy my sons when they get hold of them. And my daughters…” Violet’s head shook violently. “No. It is not within me as a mother to allow such a thing. You can hide the children, Adagio. Mother will take them into the Sardhoof. Vista and Velvet hold no claims to power, and the others are too young to pose a threat. In time the pegasi will forget. Their tempers will cool. But if I remain alive as heiress to an occupied Duchy, they will not stop until they have me. I must surrender. I cannot fathom what other choice there is to make.”

“Stop it, Violet! Stop acting as if we are powerless!” Adagio bellowed, weary of the horrible images that flashed before her eyes. “We shall fight! That is what we shall do!”

Violet seemed confused, but more surprisingly, vindicated. She was silent for a moment. Her sunken eyes were now opened wide. “Adagio, I thought you said you had not the power, nor could you sway your Lord. How could it be any different now?”

“Because I love you. Because I was wrong, and I was a fool, and I had not the grace to understand what might happen. But now I see, Violet, and I shall not let him have peace until he sends troops to the borders. Not you, but soldiers! And we will fight them!” Again, Adagio pressed her hooves into her sister’s shoulders. She hadn’t the clarity to decipher the blank look that Violet now gave her.

“You shall fight. Now,” Violet murmured.

Adagio nodded her head, thinking these words spawned from her sister’s sense of relief. “And you shall remain here under our protection as long as we may fight. I shall see to it.”

Violet glanced down at the rumpled sheets spread out between them. “Your fresh conviction melts my heart, Sister,” she said. “But, I am afraid I have already spoken with the Duke earlier this morning.”

“What he told you no longer applies,” Adagio pressed. “I shall convince him. I swear it.”

Violet’s gaze remained stoic as Adagio pulled her in close one more time. The weary and wilted mare reached up and drew her younger sister against her. “I am so very sorry for all the havoc that I bring upon you, Adagio.”

Upright’s study door glowed in raspberry, then swung open to smash into the already scuffed wall. In the doorway stood an enraged golden lady, a somewhat befitting sight to those within.

Adagio scanned the once wrecked room. The servants of the household had already begun the repairs. Scuffs were covered with smears of sap to be buffed and masked later on. The wood that could not be salvaged had already been pulled up and removed. Torn curtains had been taken down, and damaged books had been carted off to be restored. It was surprising how airy the chamber seemed without the majority of the Duke’s stuffy trinkets and boring tomes cluttering the place.

The Duchess huffed to herself when her eyes fell upon the three ponies occupying the study; two of them she deemed as having no business being there at all. She watched as they lounged about in the corner, their mouths gorged with fruit from the estate orchard and cider from the estate cellars. What they did not enjoy—which was quite a bit—they crudely spat into the air, and blew out of the broken window with lazy wings. Their pinning eyes honed in upon her, unimpressed with her dramatic entry.

“Morning, lovely,” Silent Wing chuckled, rolling a peach pit about in his cheek. “You look a bit worse for wear. Get a bit of bad news, did you?”

Echo lay beside him swatting her tail about, and chuckling with glee. “Find yourself in a bit of a jam?” she tittered, working her way through a platter of strawberries.

Adagio turned away from them both in disgust. Her ire had been reserved for the lone figure brooding in the shaded patch behind a once pristine oakwood desk. “Your Grace,” she stated firmly, sounding more confident than she had in years. “I would appreciate it if you would tell your minions to take their leave. I wish to speak with you about our guest.”

Upon entering the room, Adagio hadn’t the time to consider that something might have been terribly amiss. Now, looking upon the seething Duke, she could see it clearly. His silence was deafening and purposeful. His cold, reddened eyes were trained down upon something unseen in the front drawer of his desk. The eyes gradually set their sights upon her. His brow quivered. The corner of his mouth trembled. For a moment, Adagio couldn't tell whether he might laugh or cry.

Her brow furrowed as she attempted to decipher what the Duke was feeling. Studying his mercenaries, she realized that all three of them were aware of something they were not revealing to her. Naturally, she was set on discovering it, however if living in the house of Goldenstalks had taught Adagio anything, it was the necessity of being tactical about everything. “We should retire to your chamber, Your Grace. I can see that you have not slept,” she said.

There was only silence save for the pegasus duo’s snickering and crude whistling

Adagio bit her lip anxiously, but pushed on. “I realize that we have been cast into a rather precarious predicament, Your Grace, but you must maintain clarity if you are to govern as you should.”

Upright said nothing. His dim eyes bore into her with an expression that seemed somewhat familiar. It took a moment for Adagio to realize that she had seen that exact look upon Violet’s face a few moments prior. It was a look of defeat, a look one wore when denial and self delusion were no longer options.

Adagio, not one to be the target of any ridicule, stole herself, puffed up her chest, and lifted her head. “If there is something that you wish to say, I would beg Your Grace to please do so. The land is in turmoil, and there are things to discuss.”

Adagio listened to the sound of Upright’s desk drawer slowly closing. She heard something small rolling around within it. The entire time, he never looked away from her. And then, just like the automaton she had accused him of being, he arched a brow and smirked in his typical fashion. The change was so sudden that it was startling. Still, Adagio forced her hooves to remain planted to their spots.

“You are correct, Ada,” Upright said. At first, his voice sounded as if he had gone his entire life without a drink of water. He cleared his throat. “And what is it that you would suggest?”

Silence again cloaked the room. Three pairs of eyes watched her hungrily. Something was definitely amiss.

“The war, Your Grace. We must… we must…” Adagio’s eyes darted between the two mercenaries and her husband. “Your Grace, do you truly think it wise to hold council with pegasi at a time like this?”

Two pairs of wings ruffled to attention.

“Don't you two have other matters to attend to?” Adagio asked.

The pair smiled.

“As a matter of fact, Princess, we’ve only recently completed a very important task,” Silent chuckled. “You could say we’re now taking our well earned rest.”

Adagio smirked at them, quite weary of their antics. She turned to face her husband. “Your Grace, how do you know that they shan’t fly straightaway to tell a commander that—”

“He doesn't know, honestly,” Echo said, running a hoof along the length of her mane. Her expression had gone quite serious. “However, despite what you might think of us, Mare Goldenstalks, you must at least concede that a soldier is nothing if not for their word, their honor.”

Adagio scoffed. “You must be joking. Honor? You two? Do you even know what that means?”

Now the pair was frowning.

“You are truly beginning to irritate me, Pretty,” Silent Wing growled. His green eyes seethed.

“Out, you two scoundrels! Begone!” Adagio spat, flashing her horn in warning.

Threatened into attention by the flair of magic, both pegasi got to their hooves, their meals forgotten.

“That is enough, Ada,” Upright cut in. “They shan’t leave.”

“What?” Adagio breathed. “Your Grace, their presence is a conflict of interest. They are the enemy! Their commanders will—”

“Flower, whilst you very well might be educated in the ways of earth dwellers, I am afraid I must inform you that you are blithely misguided on the ways of our kind,” Echo groaned, rolling her eyes. “We are not beholden to any commander.”

“Though I do miss my time in the youth ranks,” Silent added, gazing off dreamily. “Good old days, those were.”

“Shut it,” Echo chided before turning again to face Adagio. “Commanders are only as powerful as the ponies who might believe in them. Trust me, Pretty, we’ve seen many a leader fall from grace for lack of honor and dignity.” She smiled coyly. “It would seem that you simple earth-dwellers are beginning to realize our truths all on your own. Why should we fly back to the legions to help that which needs no aid?”

Adagio bristled. “Foolishness. Am I to believe that you would ever choose to side with a unicorn whilst we war with pegasi?”

“Don't matter to us,” Silent said, feeling comfortable enough to roll back onto his cushion. “We fight for whoever’s paying.”

“That’s ludicrous,” Adagio growled.

“Is it? You don't seem to have the same complaints when pegasi fight on behalf of your cowardly king, do ye’? Thank your lucky stars that your bits are worth something to the sky soldiers. Because Bullion’s honor leaves so much to be desired,” Echo sighed, silencing Adagio for good. “War is sloppy, my Pretty. Any child of the legion knows that. An opponent is an opponent. It matters not what race they were born of. All that matters is their willingness to die courageously.”

“For the ones who await us with wreaths of gold,” the both of them recited in tandem, their eyes gone glassy with pride.

The white mare retook her seat, and bent over to again nibble at her meal. She shrugged. “I'd salute an honorable unicorn if it were possible for such a thing to exist.” She sat up to wink flirtatiously in Upright’s direction. “No offense, Sir.”

By this point, Upright’s face had decisively lowered itself onto the surface of his desk. It was clear he was sifting through the final dregs of his composure.

Acknowledging this, Adagio decided there was little if any time to waste, especially arguing with pegasi. “War, Your Grace. You shall never relinquish the Duchess of Edinbridle unless I, too, go with her. Either you give us both to the invaders or we fight.”

“Ooh! Well, this just got so much more interesting,” Silent Wing sneered, bobbing about upon his back.

Adagio grit her teeth and steadied her nerve as the Duke lifted his head. “And if you dare try to keep me separated from my sister whilst you give her up, I swear I will find a way to break free and go after h—”

“Very well,” Upright replied curtly.

Adagio paused. “W… what?”

“I said very well, Ada. I will gather whatever soldiers my land has to offer. Sardhoof and Buckston will fight,” Upright said. The imperviousness stuck to his brow gave his aura a dangerous quality.

Adagio could not shake the crushing sense that, once again, she had missed something. “Y… yes. And it must be done as swiftly as possible. Two days if not sooner.”

His jaw still set, Upright levitated the pen from his inkwell, and pulled a fresh leaf of paper from his ever mountainous stack. “If it is to be done, then the finest stallions shall be required to recruit and lead an offense.”

In light of her husband’s sudden show of agreeability, Adagio dared not miss her rare opportunity to be heard. “Splendid! And whom does Your Grace have in mind?”

“Stones Throw. He is not quite fresh as a daisy, but he is strong, and knows Sardhoof Forest well. That is very important,” Upright responded immediately, passing an inclusionary glance Silent and Echo’s way. “He resides on the southern edge of the Sardhoof. You will have to fly far.”

“Ayyye,” the two pegasi groaned, rolling their eyes.

Adagio nodded, finding this suggestion agreeable.

“Obsidian,” Upright suggested next, quickly jotting the name down. “Excellent spy according to father. You two shan’t find his home. Go to that pub in town, and ask a few of the patrons for him, perhaps the barmares. Eventually, he shall find you, and hopefully at my gates to save time.”

Silent Wing grinned as he heard the pub mentioned. “Why don't you fetch Mister Stones, Hummy, dear? I wouldn't mind recruiting this Obsidian fellow alone. Pub’s no place for a lady, after all.”

Echo passed him a withering grimace. “If I discover that you've spent all of our earnings on drink and tail again, I swear I shall—”

“I am a gentlestallion, Love. Haven't a clue what you're on about,” the dark stallion coughed, shrugging off his blatant guilt. Unable to meet his companion's gaze, he turned to pass Upright a smile instead. “Anypony else, Princey?”

“Dragon’s Blood Jasper. You will find him at his home near the quarry,” Upright stated, his eyes never having left the page. Increasingly, the Duke seemed lost in his thoughts, suddenly obsessed with accomplishing the task of hurrying into war. “He is a unicorn, and thus neither exceptionally strong nor swift… He likes fire, however. A great deal of fire.”

Echo’s brow arched with intrigue. “That one is mine.”

“I would think it wise if you were to bring a raincloud with you,” the Duke added.

Adagio was at a loss. So surreal was the moment and her place in it that she could barely believe she wasn't, in fact, dreaming. There Upright sat within his dark enclave, prattling increasingly garbled names and commands to himself, excited and willing to enter a war he had been avoiding for months. The mercenaries had already stopped listening to him. Echo Hum and her companion—two would-be turncoats—sat a short distance away beside the shattered window. Surrounding them was their ruin of food. Echo audaciously chose that moment to preen her wings amongst her spoils. Adagio had never known a pegasus to do such a thing in public, amongst strangers no less. Silent Wing rolled about beside her looking far too bored for it to have possibly been the first time he'd witnessed his partner teething at her feathers that way. Through the window, Adagio could just make out the tiny spec of a silver carriage now making its way down the estate’s main path. In it, something was flashing a signal in bright green. Moonstone had finally arrived. On the horizon, far beyond the town and country in the distance, clouds were forming. Thick and gray, they lurched forward in silence and stopped as if forced ‘round some invisible wall. They halted just where the eastern border of the domain would be.

Adagio’s head began to reel. Upright’s voice continued to ramble in the background. She heard his hoof tapping rhythmically upon wood. A perfect, snow white feather floated to the ground, and was crudely snatched up into Silent Wing’s teeth to serve as a toothpick. And Echo sighed at him. And flashes in green haloed the window. And why was Moonstone flashing her horn?

As the silver carriage approached below, Adagio’s mind began to quake. A familiar magical sensation buzzed through her brain.

“Betrayal.”

The telepathy spell hit her like a dart. She could hear Moonstone’s voice in sputters and clicks. The mare was too far away, and the conjuration too weak for clarity.

“Do not… She… Betrayal!”

And the sun shone down outside, surrounded by a ring of thick gray. If it weren’t for the manor sitting atop a large hill, she doubted the impending invasion would have been noticeable at all. The ring of gray made the sky look like one enormous, burning eye inset in blue. Adagio could feel the eye staring through her, searing into every lie, every plot, every scheme, and every dark secret she dared keep to herself. She felt her stomach lurch. Everything about this moment felt wrong.

“What is this?” the Duchess croaked at last. Her eyes blinked rapidly just in case the action should wake her up from this dream. “You three… you are doing something, and… I cannot understand it.” She turned to look at Upright who was still speaking. “What are you hiding from me?”

The Duke’s speech stopped abruptly. His eyes rose from his page. They were still red and exhausted. “Of course somepony must take up the charge,” he said, ignoring the Duchess’ inquiry. “Wouldn't you say so?”

Adagio remained silent.

“Somepony dependable, who is able to meet the invaders at the border. The others would join him soon after, of course.”

Adagio’s brow creased. Silent and Echo’s eyes pinned and flashed, honing in upon her face as if waiting to see how she would react to the punchline of some grand joke.

“Lighthoof is the obvious choice, wouldn't you say so, Ada?” Upright finished. He pushed the words through his teeth lest his forced smile faltered.

Adagio blinked. The room was silent, but she could hear Moonstone’s muffled voice calling from somewhere in the great hall below. She shook her head. “L… Lighthoof? You'd send him to...” she breathed. Her hoof took an involuntary step backward.

The Duke shot to his hooves when he saw her retreat. “Naturally,” he said. He rounded about the desk, and made his way toward the door to shut it. Moonstone’s far away shouting was quickly silenced. “The Lighthoofs have defended the Goldenstalks for two generations. He is the obvious choice, yes?”

“I…” The Duchess forced a very fake laugh. “Of course, Your Grace, but do you truly think it wise to leave the estate unattended? If anything, Lighthoof belongs here upon manor grounds.”

“Do you not wish to protect the life of your sister?” Upright inquired. His eyes were beginning to take on a wild glint.

Adagio huffed. “Of course I do, but—”

“But not at the expense of somepony that you care for,” Upright finished. “No, you wouldn't dare be found at fault for the suffering of a pony who mattered to you, would you?”

Adagio retreated. The pegasi were laughing.

“Like Beryl, perhaps?” the Duke shot. “You couldn't do anything that might cause her to suffer needlessly, could you?”

“Upright, I—”

“And what about me, Ada? Could you allow me to suffer needlessly?” the Duke asked. He said nothing else, choosing instead to await her reply.

Adagio stammered. Her eyes darted between the Duke and his mercenaries, repeatedly.

Her gaze locked with Echo’s. The winged mare huffed, and shot the Duchess something of a pitying smile. “Give it up, Flower. Can you still not see?” she cooed. “He knows.”

Dread descended upon Adagio. Her stomach dropped like a rock. Her head shot about so that she might look at her husband.

The Duke stood before the doorway looking far too calm and composed for somepony in his position. His jaw was set. His head was held high. He looked down upon Adagio as one would a child. “‘I swear it upon all that I love and hold dear’. Is that not what you told me that evening at Canterlot Palace, Adagio Dazzle?” he asked her. “The evening I gifted to you my mother’s pin, the pin you wore without shame? The very evening you accused me of betraying you in the way you have betrayed me?”

Adagio stood her ground, not for lack of fear, but because she could no longer feel her legs. Her heart was pounding in her ears again. These sensations weren’t new ones. Time and again she had found herself feeling these things, and yet this instance was unlike any other that had come before it.

“Answer me!” the unicorn stallion bellowed. His hoof came down upon the scuffed wood flooring like thunder. His horn sparked and crackled like lightning. Even the feathered pair in the corner retreated further into shadow. An angry, full grown unicorn was certainly no laughing matter.

Adagio Dazzle—cunning but not cunning enough, powerful but not powerful enough, and caught at last in her scheming and lying by one far more sly than she. It was only there in that moment that she realized: so great was Upright’s power, so precise his foresight that even in all of his scheming, he had never once lied to her. He wielded a far more powerful weapon in that skull of his. How could she have ever been foolish enough to think she might evade him forever?

Caught in yet another moment of shame, the Duchess Goldenstalks did, of course, what she had been trained to do all of her life when shamed—turn attentions away from herself.

“I did say it. ‘Twas a lie. And now you shall tell me how you have come to know of it,” she said, her head held high. She turned her gaze upon the two pegasi in the corner. They were warily eyeing the window, perhaps wondering if soon they might have to make a dash for it. “You there. How did you discover it?”

“Betray… you…” Moonstone’s voice crackled and hissed in the Duchess’ skull as if in response to her question. Her younger sister had managed to cast a Telepathy spell again.

Upright replied before the pegasi could speak. “Perhaps you might learn a lesson from their kind after all, Ada. Never betray a pony who once was entrusted with your secrets.”

A lump caught in Adagio’s throat. “Beryl,” she croaked.

“We had quite a grand time with that one,” Silent Wing chuckled, rolling up onto his haunches. “Didn't get a wink of sleep, not that there's much of it to be had what with that sleeping terror.”

“What do you mean?” Adagio choked, a horrible thought occurring to her. She turned to face her husband. “What does he mean? What have you done to Beryl? She wasn't to be hurt! You said she would not be hurt!”

Upright took one step toward her. His horn was glowing brightly. “You’ve betrayed me, Adagio. You’ve made a fool of me. You and Lighthoof, both! You swore on all that you held dear that you were faithful even whilst you… You allowed me to believe that we had lost...” Upright’s speech faltered. He bit his lip until he had again managed to compose himself. “Why would you do this, Ada? Did you ever love me at all?”

The question stung Adagio to her core. She scoffed with disbelief. How could the Duke have been perceptive enough to catch her in her lies, and still so blind as to never have deciphered why she would lie in the first place? She took a deep breath. At least in this matter she could afford him the truth.

“How dare you ask me a question like that, Upright?” she breathed. Her brow trembled. “After all that I have done to form myself into something that you might love as much as you cherish your silly books and rules? Of course I loved you.” Her horn sparked, sending a spray of books flying from their shelves. “And look at what I have become for all of my efforts! As much as you might hate me now, Upright, it could never compare to how much I hate myself for becoming this! A liar, a betrayer, and yes, a fool! All for want of your affection!” She stomped her hoof, and bowed her head. “This place, this life was my dream! You were my dream you cold, horrible, silly, silly stallion! And instead of speaking with me, you commanded me. Instead of loving me, you maintained me. Instead of showing me your whole mind and heart, and allowing me to show you mine, you instead demanded that I ‘fulfil my duties’. And now you dare stand there and ask me of love? How could love ever grow here when you have done everything in your power to draw it out like a weed? As if you found the very notion of love laughable? How could you possibly be surprised that this has happened?”

They stood before one another in silence. Adagio's face had gone red with weeping and rage. Looking into his eyes again she forced herself to remember a time when she had adored that hue of blue. She forced herself to remember a time when all she wanted for was his warm embrace. Her heart pulsed painfully. “I've given you my answer. All I ask in return is that you tell me now, Upright. Say that you love me. For once in this horrible mockery we call our marriage, just give me that one small pleasure. Won’t you?”

For the first time in perhaps all of the years they had known each other, it was Upright who could not meet her gaze. He stared down toward the floor in shame, mulling over in his mind the many lost years he and Adagio had wasted.

The Duchess remained steadfast. Her lips drew in tight. Even in that moment, whilst she was most unworthy of forgiveness or love, she begged those words of him. She demanded them. By Bullion, he owed her.

Upright’s eyes opened and closed, and then repeated the action. His tempered breath calmed itself. He lifted his head proudly, and like always, wiped all emotion from his face. Instead of responding to Adagio, he trained his attentions upon the pegasus duo standing to her rear.

The Duchess' head bowed in defeat. She knew what was coming, or rather what wasn't coming.

“After you have recruited the others, I want you to find Sir Prance Lighthoof, and bring him here to the estate,” Upright commanded the pegasi.

Silent Wing scratched at his head with one stray wing. “Err, here's a question: What if none o’ them ponies what you're talking about want to fight in your little war?” he asked. “Climate is right for dissent, after all.”

“I doubt that knight would be very willing,” Echo sneered, cocking a brow yet again.

Upright growled, his patience now depleted. “If they refuse their Lord, then you shall put them in chains, rings, whatever you have, and bring them to me! If they curse the monarchy or otherwise prove themselves traitors, get rid of them. They have no place on my land!” His horn flashed, startling the two mercenaries into attention. “Just make certain that you retrieve Prance Lighthoof alive!”

“Alright, Princey!” Silent Wing exclaimed, only to receive yet another flash of Upright’s horn in response. Catching himself, the pegasus stallion straightened out his back and squared his jaw. “I mean, Princey Sir! We'll get it done.”

“Chains and rings? For that many ponies? Ponies with talent?” Echo added. “That would surely prove far too much weight. We wouldn't be able to fly… Not unless we recruited some help, that is.”

“Do what you must,” Upright replied with a wave of his hoof.

Adagio reeled. A familiar ringing sound drowned out everything that was being said around her. It was only now that she realized its toll had been a warning, one she had always managed to misinterpret.

She watched Upright point, and scream, and rage, hearing none of it. She watched the two pegasi sit up straighter with every flash of the Duke’s horn until they were practically saluting. She was no longer able to decipher the twisted tale she had become part of. So, instead she simply bore down upon her forelegs.

Three pairs of eyes watched as her horn began to glow.

There was a snap of both ruby and orange light. The two mingled together. It happened so quickly that it was impossible to distinguish which spark had come first.

Adagio’s body buzzed as she was caught in her escape, mid-teleportation. Her insides burned and blinked. Upright’s magical halo surrounded her. His entire being gleamed, and the two suns in his eyes burst like novas. Whilst the pegasi wisely took this opportunity to make a quick exit, Upright’s burning aura spread through oakwood, through walls, through stone, past the gardens beyond the window, past the great grasses, and toward the edge of the Sardhoof. Gazing out of the window, Adagio could see the glow growing bigger until at last it had surrounded the entire estate in an enormous, shimmering dome. One more flash, and the dome disappeared, leaving falling sparks in its wake. Adagio’s heart sank when she understood what it was the Duke had done.

“Nopony shall leave this estate lest I allow it,” the noblestallion hissed. Raising his head high once more, he bellowed for his guards.

In they came a moment later: three armored, stallions, large and menacing. They saluted at once, and awaited their orders.

“See Her Grace to her chambers. Keep her there, including during her meals. She is not to leave unless absolutely necessary, and most certainly not without accompaniment. Under no circumstances is she to speak with her sister.”

“The Duchess Vision, Sir?” one of the soldiers inquired.

“Both of them. The Duchess of Edinbridle as well as that merry, meddling drunkard of an heiress. In fact, you shall keep the three of them completely separated from each other at all costs. Do you understand?”

“Your Grace!” the three guards bellowed before moving forward to form an escort circle about the Duchess. Her fair frame was quickly lost in their shadow.

Adagio peered daggers into her husband’s eyes. It would seem that tonight was, indeed, a night of firsts. For the first time in her life, that icy blue could not unnerve her. She understood that all of her fears lay in the notion that she might one day be discovered and labeled a fraud. Now that day had come, and here she was, still standing.

Something old and tightly knotted unwound itself within her chest. She inhaled deeply and felt her muscles relax in a way they never had before. “I shan't allow you to hurt him, Upright,” she said, even as the guard led her away. “Bellow and bluster as you may, I swear we shall find a way to escape you.”

____

Adagio rushed past her solar—now void of children—and into her bower. Once there, she scrambled to her writing desk, and wrenched out fresh ink and paper. Outside of her window, in the beyond, the sky crackled and flashed in orange.

‘Zap!’

Every few minutes, another flash. The Duke was up to wicked work.

‘Zap!’

The Duchess remained frantic as she bore down upon the sheet of paper. She lifted the quill into her magic.

‘Zap!’

Though rushed, the script still came beautifully:

‘You are in danger! It has to be tonight! I shall wait for you by the fountain.’

With one twirl of her horn, the paper rolled into the air. It bound itself with a bit of string, and was gone in a sudden flash of light.

Author's Note

Someone should make a "slap" counter with corresponding chart for Adagio's arc. Which pony slaps which other pony? And approx. how many slaps per character, per chapter? The results would tell you exactly how dramatic each chapter is on the drama meter from a scale of '1 to telenovela'. It's science... or something.

...This arc is driving me insane, guys. There's so much to cover, and I want it covered now. Plus, this might sound weird, but attempting to write the workings of unicorn magic and spells in an interesting way is putting my writing senses in a strange place. I hope it's all still making sense, and that at least you're having fun connecting everything in this arc to Sonata's chapters. I try to leave little easter eggs sprinkled about here and there. That counts as fun, right? Eh.

Cage Break

The dusty tome hit Adagio’s writing desk with a loud ‘THUD’. Flipping it over, she ran a hoof across its curly, gold leaf title: Canterlot Royal Library’s Official Practices and Principles of Privilege for the Refined Lady Duchess.

Adagio scoffed and rolled her eyes.

What a crock.

Still, considering her current circumstances, perhaps it would prove wise not to judge the book too harshly as yet. If her hunches were correct, those orange flashes in the beyond would be Upright busying himself with blocking off every bit of spellwork that might prove useful to her. No further letters in or out unless he allowed it. No teleportation, either.

There would be just one problem with the Duke’s schemes, however. He did not own a copy of the Refined Lady’s spellbook. Only Duchesses maintained that right. And whilst Teleportation and Invisibility would, no doubt, be the first magical conjurations he would prohibit inside of the estate’s magical dome of protection, the ‘Refined Lady’s Heavenly Hoof’ certainly was not.

The Heavenly Hoof—some brainwashed old noblemare, Lady Dapple, figured long ago that it might serve a Duchess well had she the ability to hover ever so slightly above the ground whilst walking in her robes. ‘It complements one’s mareish physique, and is quite pleasing to a stallion’s eye,’ read the passage beneath the spell’s header.

It took all of Adagio’s will power not to set the page aflame immediately. The ability to float, or in this case appear to float, for long periods of time would definitely be useful. A full grown unicorn would much rather teleport as floating for very long or very far usually proved too strenuous a task. Fortunately for all “refined” noblemares, Lady Dapple had put to the silliest of uses something notably ingenious: magnetic force. A magical charge was sent down into the ground, and this in turn would interact with the usually metallic shoes of a noblemare, repelling them upward. A bit of tweaking and the spell would, theoretically, allow one to float as high or low as they wished with little trouble.

Adagio sneered over the page. Take what was useful of the spell and leave the rest, she supposed. That seemed like a good enough philosophy to keep.

A few hours later, she had managed to cast the Heavenly Hoof, but only for ten minutes at the longest. Still, it was better than some of the best levitation spells she had witnessed any unicorn conjure. It would have to do.

Tearing out a few useful pages from the mostly useless spellbook, Adagio then tied up the hem of her robes into a glow of magic, threw a dark evening cloak about her shoulders, and turned to face her opened window.

____

Adagio tapped lightly upon the chamber window's glass paneling. The pony within did not hear her. Her legs shuddered where they hung in the early evening air. She nearly panicked, and her hoof slammed into the window’s ledge, pulling a few pebbles loose from stone. Again, she tapped against the glass, much louder this time.

Hurry, hurry, before somepony sees!

This time a pair of tired, but slightly less forlorn, pink eyes darted about in her direction. “Off with you then! Remember, sugar in my tea. Not honey,” Violet instructed her little servant filly, shooing the child away before she could see what was lingering just beyond the window. Perhaps Adagio might have been happier to see her sister in somewhat higher spirits were she not in danger of becoming a greasy stain upon the garden pathway below.

Once the filly had gone, the Duchess Vision locked the door behind her, and raced toward the window. She unshuttered the thing, and quickly pulled Adagio inside.

“Adagio, what are you doing here?” Violet hissed, her eyes wide. “If the Duke were to catch you, he would—”

“I'm leaving, Violet! Tonight! Come with me!” Adagio panted, pushing herself up onto her haunches. The potent combination of adrenaline and unseen peril worked to enliven every cell in her body. Her eyes were wide and glossy. They darted about, already scoping out what should be packed for Violet’s trip.

Violet stalled and then blinked. “Adagio, have you gone mad? What the jewel are you talking about?”

“Beryl. He had those beasts torment Beryl! She revealed everything to him!” Adagio blurted, not noticing the ever tightening movement of Violet’s lips. “He plans to put Lighthoof on the front line at the border. He wants him dead. We must leave!”

“Spirits, Adagio,” Violet breathed, shaking her head. “Listen to what it is you ask of me. I cannot secret myself about Equestria this way. What about my children? No. I am sorry, but I must remain here.”

“Once I'm gone, the Duke would surely take his anger out upon you. What if he surrenders you to the horde out of spite?” Adagio pressed.

“He shan’t, Adagio,” Violet murmured. “Trust me.”

Adagio frowned. “What are you talking about, Violet? We both know that Upright does not want you here. Now hurry it along. I will not be able to return to you a second time.”

“Adagio…” Violet pressed, looking quite exhausted.

“If I run, you shall no longer matter to him!”

“Stop it!” Violet bellowed.

Adagio was stunned into silence.

Violet let loose a tired sigh, shaking her head. “Adagio, at some point, you must stand alone in your truth. Be honest with yourself, above all. Honesty is what could have set you free long ago. Honesty could set you free, even now,” Violet said. “I understand the difficulty of… of this all, but there is no other way. There never was any other way.” Her gaze softened as she stroked her younger sister’s cheek. “I love you. I never could bear to see you unhappy, not even in the beginning when these horrid matches were made. But what is done is done, and we have come too far to turn back now. I fear our goodbyes have been in the making for a very long time. You would not hear me this morning, but please hear me now. Let us not make our farewells bitter by attempting to evade that which is inevitable.” She held her forelegs out to Adagio. “Embrace me, little sister. Let us remember our time together fondly.”

Adagio thought to herself as the dimming sky continued to flash in orange beyond the window. Being honest with herself—Was it a thing she’d ever been capable of? She had been lying to everypony for so long, herself included, that she was no longer sure which tale she truly had conviction for. “Honesty,” she mumbled, pouting like a reprimanded filly. For just a moment, they were young again. She was a foal in the presence of a youthful and equally naive teenage sister. “The truth,” she said.

She wanted a life of beauty, power, and love, but none of those things were possible in the house of Goldenstalks, especially now. That was the truth. She was an exceptionally gifted and intelligent mare, one whose potential this world could never respect. This she could never accept, but it was the truth. Everypony perished eventually. The choice was now hers as to whether it would happen to her slowly whilst she remained unhappy, or swiftly whilst she beamed with joy, whilst she burned out with the beauty of a falling star. As brief as a happy life would inevitably be for her, she could no longer deny that this is what she desired for herself. She would have power over her own life. She would have the love she hungered for. She would be radiant, and even if just for one second, she would live honestly.

Adagio stepped forward into her elder sister's grasp. She allowed herself to be wrapped in warmth, and relished the sensation of gentle hooves swimming through her frazzled mane. She breathed in the scent of Violet, and committed it to memory. Stroking her sister’s cheek, Adagio stared and stared at her ever beautiful snow white mane and soft pink eyes. She remembered a time when those pretty eyes were fresh, filled with naive hopes and dreams. Those were now long gone. Adagio imagined her own eyes now looked quite similar. She smiled. “I love you, Violet. No matter what may happen, please remember that I love you.”

“As do I,” Violet said, kissing her curls. She paused. “Are you headed away this very instant?”

“No,” Adagio replied. “Not until evening when I shall go to meet Lighthoof.”

Violet blinked. Then she nodded her head. “Of course. Good,” she said with no intonation. “He will know what to do to keep you safe.”

“But first, I must free Beryl. She is in the dungeons,” Adagio added.

“Beryl? In the dungeons?” Violet gasped. “What has she done to deserve such a punishment?”

The Duchess Goldenstalks lowered her gaze shamefully. “I have wronged her. And now I must make things right,” she said, running a hoof down the length of her face.

Violet stood frozen to her spot. By the looks of it, she desired to scold Adagio just as she would have in simpler times. By the grace of Celestia she somehow managed to restrain herself. “Come, then. I shall help you,” she said, hiking up her own hems and rushing to open the window. “That spell of yours, it was Lady Dapple’s ‘Heavenly Hoof,’ I take it?”

______

Moonstone called out to her, again. “Dont… She…” she cried. Her spell was weakening. Adagio could feel the enchanted bridge between their minds fading with her every word.

______

“You there! Stop!” the stocky dungeon guard bellowed. Two mares’ hoofsteps clicked and clattered across damp stone soiled with grime and moss. Down torchlit corridors they raced. Their shadows were black streaks against dingy green and brown.

“Now, Adagio,” Violet panted when the guard’s voice had fallen a comfortable distance behind. “Go now. I will meet you there when I've lost him.”

Too winded to reply, Adagio nodded her head, and veered off to the right.

She wasn't fond of frequenting the estate dungeons, nor had she ever much of a reason to in the past. Still, her position dictated that it was a place she could not avoid forever, not if she and her husband had any hopes of keeping a firm grip of control over their land.

The Pit was a place for ponies who needed to disappear without dying, whatever the reason for that might have been. Perhaps they were filled with secrets and important information. Perhaps they were notoriously bad influences on the other prisoners. Or perhaps, like Beryl, they had been shown the oddest form of mercy: a life when death was deserved, but a life spent in solitude and shadow.

Adagio winced away thoughts of how much she had wronged her maidservant as she veered left, then swung another left down a steep decline of stairs. Behind her, she could hear the guards racing after Violet. Hopefully, she would keep them distracted long enough.

Eyes peered at her in the dark. Through cold bars and rank cells, those gaunt, sickly orbs seared into her flesh. She could feel raging hatred attacking her from every side. Whispers in the dark swore vengeance, hissing out the countless ways in which a pony’s life could come to an end for its simply daring to be brave, insolent, and a commoner at the same time.

The walls reverberated as word spread throughout those hallways of forgotten souls. Adagio could not understand any of it, and yet she didn't need to understand in order to decipher what awful things they were saying to her.

The faces, lost in various stages of decay and destitution, seemed to stretch on forever. It stunned her to remember just how many bodies wallowed down in these pits, completely forgotten by the world. Deeper she went, forcing herself to gaze upon each and every one of Goldenstalks House’s transgressions, forcing herself to take them all to heart. As much as she abhorred the sight of them, they were all part of her.

“It is time we demand what is ours!” a stallion’s voice called from somewhere in the darkness. “Let us unite, brothers and sisters of the earth!”

“Aw, not this again! Shut it, Rooster!” a mare spat at him from across the corridor. “I was just falling asleep!”

Her protests didn't seem to sway the brown stallion in the slightest. Neither did Adagio’s presence as she scuttled past his cell. “We must demand liberation from under the suffocating hoof of the unicorn peerage!" he bellowed.

“‘The unicorn peerage, unicorn peerage,’ he says,” the jailed mare replied. “It’s that crazy mouth of yours what makes me wish I could kiss the grime under the Duke’s hooves right this instant if the bastard would have my cell switched!”

The earth mare seemed a disheveled little ball of scrapes, bruises, and missing teeth. That anypony might treat a mare in such a manner startled the Duchess so that she couldn't draw her eyes away.

The imprisoned mare sneered at the sight of Adagio, despising her judgmental eyes. She hocked up something into her throat, and spat it in the noblemare’s direction. The wet lump caught Adagio right upon the hems. “And what are you gawking at, Princess?” the mare screamed. “Forgive me, Your Grace. If I knew that you was planning on paying us Forsaken a visit, I would have worn my good dress!”

“I… I'm… s… sorry,” Adagio blurted, too shocked to remember the wisdom in keeping her mouth shut. “I didn't meant to—”

“You're sorry?” the mare breathed. “You hear that, lads? Her Grace says she’s sorry! You know how long I been down here, Princess? Yea, me neither! My children probably don't even remember they gots a mother no more! Another day without your guard feedin’ us, and them foals just might end up being right!”

“Hear that, mates? The Duchess says she’s sorry!” a stallion’s voice chortled madly somewhere down the dark corridor.

“Aye, Your Grace! I'll take that pretty dress you're wearing as long as you're paying penance!” one more pony called.

“I'll take the mane and tail beneath! Those sodding guards cut mine clean off!” said yet another.

The entire Pit broke out into a fit of raucous laughter, boos, and hisses. Cell bars clanked. Stones cracked and crumbled. The faces of the wretched swirled about Adagio in the darkness, and despite her best efforts, she couldn't keep a clear head. As much control as she might have lacked in her chambers filled with fineries, the same could easily be said for her down here in the dank and dim. She had to find Beryl and soon before she got lost, or worse yet, went mad.

“Down with her!” the same brown stallion bellowed. “Down with the unicorn peerage!”

Walls began to hiss again. Adagio rushed faster down the corridor, peering from cell to cell. The grim and grimy faces became a blur as she searched for that one familiar trace of pretty green and a long, quaint braid.

Further she ran…

And louder the voices of the wretched grew…

“Your Grace?” a small voice squeaked somewhere off to her right.

The tenderness in the words was enough to make the Duchess halt her steps. She spun about, to take in the sight of a drab, but distinct lime green coat and a lovely flank mark depicting a golden key encrusted with an array of precious stones. “Beryl? Beryl!” she cried.

“Your Grace, is it really you?” Beryl whimpered as she limped to brace against her cell bars.

Adagio lunged forward to hold Beryl’s beaten and bruised face tenderly between her hooves.

“Your Grace, tell me I am not dreaming!” Beryl cried, shocked tears rolling down her cheeks. “I thought I would never see light of day again, much less your face. And here you have brought me both!”

“Oh, Beryl. I've made a horrible mistake. You were correct all along. I've come to make things right. I've come to set you free!”

Beryl, understandably, was at a loss for words. Taking the quiet opportunity, Adagio bid her to stand back. Once the earth mare had retreated into the dark, Adagio lowered her head, and struck the cell’s lock with a powerful beam of magic. The rusty lump went clattering to the ground in an instant. One moment more, and the two mares were huddled in a dirty corner, embracing as if their very lives depended upon it.

“Forgive me, Beryl! Forgive me,” the Duchess repeated over and over. Her hoof ran across the earth mare’s mane and fur as she perused the entirety of the damage that Echo Hum and Silent Wing had wrought. The most distinguishable change, by far, was made to Beryl’s once lovely mane and tail. They had both been cut short, probably to keep them out of the way when her blood had begun to flow. Now the length hung in an uneven mess about her mid-neck. In addition to this, her left eye was ringed with darkness, and a few deep lacerations on her left thigh explained the limp.

Thinking these things the extent of her injuries, Adagio breathed a tentative sigh of relief. It wasn’t until the earth mare turned onto her opposite side for comfort from her leg shackle that the Duchess finally witnessed the true extent of the pegasus duo’s depravity. When she did, her jaw fell slack. For a moment her brain went numb. Bile rose up into her throat, and was choked down, only for it to rise again with double the force. “Why? Why? Why?” she wheezed.

Beryl’s right cutie mark was missing.

It took a moment of thinking and staring and blinking at the raw wound before Adagio’s mind could accept the notion that Beryl’s mark had quite literally been flayed from her side.

Noting her mistress’ distress, Beryl attempted to roll away so that she might hide her shame.

Adagio held her still, and pulled her in close. She wanted to remember. She wanted to see the horror she had brought upon her dearest friend.

“Monst… monsters…” the Duchess croaked. Her stomach churned as the gruesome image seared itself into her memory. She kissed Beryl’s mane, hoping to draw out a feeling of personal guilt for stealing so sweet a sensation. She deserved to feel like a monster, too.

“Th… they were going to take the other, but I fainted away before they could. I suppose it was no longer fun for them after that,” Beryl murmured, not knowing what else to say. “It… it doesn’t feel as bad as it looks, Mum. Honest!” Perhaps it was out of habit that even in this lowly state, the earth mare could not help but try to protect her mistress’ peace of mind from these all too nasty, all too worldly things.

“Shut up, Beryl! Just shut up! You shall never spare my feelings again! Not after this!” Adagio barked. Leaning down, and bowing her horn in the direction of Beryl’s shackle, the Duchess let off a powerful ruby beam, blowing the restraint to bits. “From this day forth, you are a free pony. You may come with me if you'd like, just so long as you run far away from here!”

“C… come with you?” Beryl asked, rubbing at the raw ring of flesh about her shorn fetlocks. “Where are you going?”

“I know you've confessed,” Adagio replied, helping Beryl to her hooves. “And I don't care, Beryl. I'm glad you did it. But now we must go. We must flee or the Duke shall have Lighthoof killed, and imprison us both.”

Beryl took one aching step forward and paused. Her brow was furrowed in confusion. Slowly, her head began to shake. “Your Grace, I… I do not understand,” she said. “I didn't tell those sky beasts anything.”

Adagio rolled her eyes, and attempted to tug the earth mare along by the dirty rags she now used for a shawl. “It's alright Beryl. How could I possibly be angry with you after—”

“‘Tis the truth!” Beryl exclaimed, pulling away, and limping about to Adagio’s front. “They tried to make me talk. They hurt me… they hurt me… all over. Spirits know how much I wanted to confess. But, I am telling you, it never happened! I gave them nothing! That is why they took my mark! They took it, and I fainted away, and when I awoke I was back in my cell!”

Adagio’s heart was pounding out of her chest. Once again, things were moving too quickly. She shook her head in disbelief. “That can't be. That just cannot be,” she whispered. “If you didn't confess, then who…”

“Adagio?” a hushed voice whispered in the dark. The sound bounced off of the Pit’s stone walls.

Both mistress and servant froze, pressing each others’ mouths shut.

“Adagio, where are you?” the voice came again, a bit louder this time.

Upon spotting a flash of stark white in the dim, Adagio realized who it was. “Violet! Here we are!” she replied, drawing the Duchess Vision’s attention. In a moment, all three of them were huddled together against the cold stones.

Violet stared down upon Beryl in shock, taking in all that the mercenaries had done to her. Her brow twitched. She restrained the brunt of the frown she surely wished to point in Adagio’s direction. “Spirits, Beryl. You did not deserve this,” she said.

“Please, Your Grace,” Beryl replied, forcing herself to her hooves. “I'm just so happy to see you here. I only wish to leave this terrible place.”

“Of course,” Adagio said, rushing toward the cell door, and poking her head out to check for a guard. Seeing none, she ushered the others forward. “Violet, where are the guards who were chasing after you?”

“I ran them into that filthy pit of wastewater that leads into the backfield,” the Duchess Vision chuckled, bobbing confidently down the dark hallway. “That Heavenly Hoof is quite useful. Even over water!”

The three hurried along the dark corridor, stopping at every twist and turn to peer around the corner. Voices attached to no faces followed them as they went, groaning and straining, begging for freedom. Bent solely on not being caught, the two noblemares ignored them all. It seemed fitting that Beryl was the first to speak on the other prisoners’ behalf.

“Your Graces, please wait,” she hissed in the dark.

The clattering of hoofsteps faded. Adagio and Violet spun about to find Beryl standing in the middle of the corridor, her head bowed with deep conviction.

“What is the matter with you, Beryl?” Adagio asked. “We must hurry!”

“I… I cannot leave them here,” Beryl began. “The others I mean. Some of these ponies are as innocent as I. Many of them do not deserve their punishments. Please wait a moment so that we might free them!”

Neither Violet nor Adagio could hide their sneers of disapproval.

“Beryl, they are dangerous. They despise us!” Violet hissed. “We cannot simply allow them to walk free.”

“Then I shall release them,” the maidservant pressed. She raised her head high in a manner the two noblemares had never before witnessed. “Many of these ponies are like me. They said the incorrect thing at the incorrect time, and have ended up down here for their mistake. If I were to allow them to stay and rot, I would be as heartless as your Duke.”

Adagio and Violet faltered at the fresh determination in the earth mare’s words.

“Beryl, you shall be caught,” Adagio said. “I cannot, in good conscience, allow you to—”

“With all due respect, Your Grace, you are not allowing anything,” Beryl interrupted. “Do you not remember that you have already set me free? I shall stay behind whether you fancy it or not. I shan’t leave these ponies to suffer!”

Silence cloaked the Pit save for the stray sniffle or cough that echoed along the corridor. Seeing that the earth mare was set on her decision, both unicorns turned, and passed each other worried looks.

“If I truly am to be honest and of my word, then I must say that she can do this. I must believe her conviction,” Adagio said.

Violet nodded her head, and passed her sister a resigned smile. “That you must.”

They both turned to face Beryl who stood stretching the aches and pains from her hind legs.

“Good luck, Beryl,” Adagio said, rushing forward to embrace her. “Meet me by the old fountain once it is completely dark if you plan to escape. I imagine a slew of earth ponies could figure ways to hide amongst the green until then?”

Beryl, stunned that her mistress might believe in her as one would an equal, quickly nodded her head and smiled adoringly. “I’m certain we shall figure the correct thing to do.”

With one more nod, Adagio turned to follow her sister.

_____

It took a while before Adagio noted the unnerving silence stretching on between Violet and herself. A few minutes had passed since they had left Beryl to free the other prisoners, and still there were no traces of the guards. Something began to tickle at the back of Adagio’s mind. “The guards should have returned by now. It isn’t as if that water pit is filled with bog mud.”

“Adagio, please stop mumbling to yourself. You’re making me nervous,” Violet sighed, hurrying along up the stairs toward the dungeon proper.

“Sorry, Vee,” Adagio said. “It is just so very strange.”

“The only thing that is strange is the way you are behaving,” Violet clucked, peeking around the bend, into the torchlit chamber. “Those guards are probably off pulling the muck from their fur.”

“You’re probably right,” Adagio replied. Still, as much as she wanted to agree with her sister, something continued to nag at her. “She said she did not confess.”

“What was that, dear?” Violet tittered absent-mindedly.

“Beryl,” Adagio stated clearly. “She said that she did not confess. Those mercenaries took her mark, and she still did not confess.”

“Remarkable,” Violet muttered. Suddenly, she looked sick to her stomach, “and ghastly.”

“Indeed,” Adagio replied. “Yet the question still remains, if not Beryl, then who?”

Things went quiet again as the two mares cast the Heavenly Hoof spell upon themselves. As they neared the entrance of the large vault, the clattering of their hooves upon stone disappeared.

“I haven’t the slightest idea, Adagio, dear,” Violet replied, her voice lowered to a whisper. “You wouldn’t suppose somepony else might have been given reason to take up disfavor with you?”

“I cannot imagine who…” Adagio trailed off.

They entered out into the quickly fading twilight, and rounded the corner into the shadowed cloisters. Casting their spell again and again, they only stopped when they had floated quite near to the ceiling. The vantage point was terrible from this height, but nopony down below would ever think to look for them up here.

Adagio’s mind began to buzz in a familiar way as she rose higher.

“Betr—” Moonstone’s voice hissed within her brain, once again.

Adagio gasped. “That is who she meant!”

Violet’s eyes went wide. “Who? Moonstone? What was it that she said? W… who did she speak of?” she inquired anxiously. “Somepony close?”

“I do not know. The spell is casted too far away for clarity,” Adagio replied. “The Duke is purposely keeping her away from me. Still, I was able to hear the words “betrayal” and “she”.”

Violet remained silent, apparently lost in thought. They were nearing the edge of the cloisters now. As soon as they were free of them, they would have to cast their spell a few more times to reach the safety of the garden, and eventually the old fountain.

Expended magic coupled with the weight of her own body was making Adagio’s spell cumbersome to maintain. She felt herself reaching her limit, and imagined Violet was reserving her own energy as well considering how quiet she was being. “Vee, I cannot hold the spell much longer. Let us hurry,” she panted.

“I cannot stop thinking about Beryl,” Violet cut in abruptly.

The calm in her older sister’s voice made Adagio pause. “Neither can I,” she replied.

“That a pony should choose to suffer such torments merely to protect the secret of the one who brought them upon her...” Violet shook her head. “I can fathom nothing more honorable, more righteous.”

Adagio felt her cheeks go red. She hung her head so that her mane shrouded her face. “I shall regret it for the rest of my life, Violet. I shall regret all of the hearts I have broken.”

“Shall you?” Violet clucked. Her tone of voice was reprimanding. “After all, you still cannot decipher whoever this mystery pony is that holds a vendetta against you.”

Adagio remained silent.

The edge of the cloister opened up before them, and with it the night. Both mares stepped across an invisible platform made of air and magic toward the garden. The green came up to greet them, Adagio more so than her sister. Maybe upon one of the garden’s stone paths noise wouldn't be a problem, but by the time the edge of the manicured shrubbery gave way to rugged terrain, she would have to muster up enough magical energy to cast the Heavenly Hoof again.

“Don’t…” Moonstone called. The echo seemed to move beyond Adagio’s tired mind and out into the evening.

Violet frowned as their hooves grazed lightly against the sides of rose bushes and tulip stalks. The garden was thick around them. “How do you know you would not forget poor Beryl’s sacrifice the moment you are rid of this place?” she continued. “What’s worse, how do you know you would not convince yourself to weigh the price she has paid and determine it a mere pittance?”

Adagio scoffed, “Violet, you cannot be serious. You cannot think me so selfish that I might ever compare my woes with those of a mare who has been robbed of her mark.”

“It is tragic the things you seem to forget, Adagio,” Violet sighed.

The path was beneath them now. Adagio, gratefully, sank down onto the stones. Her golden shoes hit rock with a ‘clank’. The garden was eerily quiet save for the sounds of crickets and the unnaturally rhythmic gusts of breeze. Adagio wondered if perhaps those winds were spawned on pegasus wing, and had traversed the entire Duchy in order to unnerve her.

Grasses rustled as they went. At times a mouse or frog would dart across their path, betraying their hiding places. Adagio felt anxious. This emotion was understandable, all things considered. However, she just could not shake the distinctly horrible feeling that many eyes were now upon her.

As soon as they had reached the edge of the garden, they stopped a moment to cast the Heavenly Hoof one last time. Adagio stole herself. This conjuration would have to be her strongest. It would have to last longer than what she thought possible. It would have to see her through to the fountain where the hind border of Upright’s estate lay, and hopefully, where Lighthoof was awaiting her.

As they set off into the untamed, Violet looked up at the sky and breathed in the air. She moved confidently through the moonlight, despite all impending dangers. “You did realize whilst you were lambasting the Lord Vision this morning, that I actually did love him, did you not?” she asked quietly. The night around them was too silent.

Adagio stammered, “Oh, Violet. O… of course I knew that!”. The fountain was just ahead, sunken down in between two small knolls. In the dark dip, Adagio could not see what waited there. Upright’s enchanted barrier crackled and hissed in sputtering orange as they neared it.

Adagio frowned at the implication of her sister’s words. Shame was very nearly beginning to weigh her down. The spell faltered for a moment and she sank a few inches more toward leaves and roots. “When I said those things, it was intended as my pitiful attempt to help you feel better about—”

“About the fact that I chose to follow the rules, to obey my husband, and to do as I was told. You thought, Adagio, that in his death, I might have realized my own freedom from the control he held over me?” Violet was scowling now, her pink eyes very nearly burning. She turned to peer at Adagio as they paused just beyond the dip of the hill.

“Do not listen…” Moonstone called.

Adagio was losing her grip upon the spell. Her breath was belabored. As she stumbled forward into the dim, her eye caught sight of something white and rather large darting behind a tree. “He's here,” she exclaimed, bounding forward upon her shoddy spell. When she realized that Violet was lagging behind, she spun around. “Violet, did you not hear me? Lighthoof, he is—”

“There is no spell that Vision has placed upon me, Adagio,” Violet continued, ignoring her sister’s words. “I loved the Lord Vision and I loved my son. And now they are both gone.”

Adagio frowned. Bit by bit, things began to gel within her brain. Abstract pieces finally came together to create a single, terrible truth. Her hooves sank onto the ground as it all dawned upon her, at last.

Lighthoof, having waited far too long, darted from his hiding place and approached them. By the time he was close enough to reach out and touch Adagio’s shoulder, the mare could no longer budge.

“Violet…” Adagio breathed.

“Do not listen…” Moonstone called.

“And you and your husband failed me. You failed us. If my husband and son are gone, it is your fault!” Violet’s horn sparked. “Fortunately, at least your Duke could afford me a bit of his penance.”

“Gio?” Prance muttered. His deep purple eye had gone dark as they studied Violet. His expression had grown quite grim. Cautiously, he reached down to wrap a bating hoof around Adagio’s foreleg and said, “We must move now.”

Adagio’s gaze remained steadfast, directed straight ahead. Something hot began to rise up into her chest, then her face. The fire reflected itself in Violet’s eyes.

Lighthoof was tugging at her legs, then rounding about to nip at her tail. Her hooves left a streak in the dirt as he dragged her across the earth. “Adagio, we must leave!” he pressed through clenched teeth.

And the moon shone down upon the three, and Adagio’s heart had begun to crack, and Violet smiled. Her purple horn glowed in indigo. Dim at first, the light intensified until it shone like a beacon through the trees.

“Do not listen to her!” Moonstone called. The message came clear at last. “She will betray you!”

And Adagio’s heart broke in two. “Violet? What have you done?” she breathed.

“Violet, retreat to the estate!” Prance bellowed angrily, his eyes flashing. Seeing that Adagio was less than inclined to budge, he rounded about again to stand in front of her, blocking the Duchess Vision’s line of sight.

Violet didn’t respond. For a moment, it seemed as if she had not noticed Prance’s presence at all. Then her head bowed. The look she gave the anxious stallion was half dazed, half satisfied. She blinked at him, wearing the most demure of smiles. “Oh. Sir Lighthoof. Hello,” she said as plainly as one might mention the weather.

Her horn flashed, cloaking the scene in blinding light. From the bushes bounded eight estate guards. Two of them pulled out enchanted rings and rushed forward, bent on placing one upon Adagio’s horn.

Two guards pounced upon Prance who easily fought them off with well-aimed hooves to the jaw. Three more rushed to replace their cohorts, this time with ropes in tow. “Gio, run! Hide!” Prance bellowed as he found himself overpowered. A hoof to the maw silenced him for good, and sent him crashing to the ground.

Adagio turned to make a mad dash for the enchanted barrier about the estate, her mind drawing a stunned blank. Violet’s burning indigo beam of magic cut across her path, forcing her into a retreat. Finding herself surrounded by guards with nowhere else to go, she turned about to face her sister. “Violet! How could you?” she cried, as Violet calmly floated down toward the earth. “I am your sister!”

Violet sneered. Her pink eyes narrowed into spiteful slits. Stepping forward she released the knot in the hem of her velvet gown. Suddenly, the Duchess Vision seemed to have reclaimed some of her former glory.

Reaching out with one dainty hoof, she lifted Adagio’s chin so that she might have a gander at the despair carved upon her face. Moving the hoof upward toward the golden lady’s horn, she ran it against the rim of the enchanted ring that sat there, and shoved it down hard. “If you need ask a question like that, then you really do deserve all that is coming to you, Adagio,” she replied.

Then came another blinding flash of light.

Straining her head to the side to see, Adagio’s heart sank when she spotted Upright now making his way toward them, flanked by two of his guard. In their company was her sister, Moonstone. Upon her horn was an enchanted ring, probably placed there the minute Adagio had been recaptured.

Unwilling to allow her captors a moment’s peace, the youngest Glow daughter struggled and wrenched at the magical bindings that held her. “Violet, you absolute scoundrel!” she screamed. “How could you do this? How could you possibly be settled to see yourself as this… this snake?”

Violet never even afforded her sister a passing glance. Instead, the Duchess Vision turned about to stand before Duke Goldenstalks. She did not bow, nor did she smile. Instead, she nodded her head in reverence. “I told you she would prove far too selfish to keep her mouth shut and leave Lighthoof be, and that he would prove far too gallant to follow his better judgement.”

Watching Violet and Upright together in this way made Adagio’s blood boil. Her mind drifted to that morning when she had visited her sister, hugged her, kissed her, and reassured her that everything would be alright. She remembered the look that Violet had given her. That blank, depleted stare. She recalled the supposed discussion Violet had with the Duke when she’d first arrived. Adagio felt sick to her stomach as she realized the discussion had been about her. She remembered Violet’s sparse words, no longer cryptic and mysterious as they had once seemed: ‘Do you believe that I am kind and forgiving, and that my husband alone brought this upon us all?’ Violet had asked her. ‘I am so very sorry for all the havoc that I bring upon you, Adagio,’ she had said. How was it at all possible for her to be sorry? If she was then why would she still have chosen to go through with her plan? What twisted satisfaction did she draw from all of this?

The golden duchess was startled from her thoughts when she saw the Duke shift his weight to his left side. He peered beyond Violet’s shoulder, piercing blue daggers into Prance. With one flick of his hoof, he bid the knight’s captors forward. Hoisting the white stallion up, they drew near.

“Lighthoof, you’ve always had a knack for the art of persuasion, ever since we were young,” the Duke said. There was no inflection in his tone, his face was void of all expression. “If only I’d had the foresight to utilize such gifts for the benefits of the Duchy. Perhaps then you wouldn’t have squandered your talent on this sordid brand of treachery.”

Lighthoof huffed steam where he lay at the Duke’s hooves. The ropes binding him stretched taut as he struggled to break free. His shoulders rolled in circles where he lay on the ground, pushing and pulling at the twine beneath them. “There isn’t a pony alive that does not wish to make haste out of your presence, Upright,” Prance scoffed, shooting the Duke a defiant smile. “Your company is poison to the living and the full of heart.”

Upright cocked a brow at these words. “Is it?” he asked. “And I suppose you are the panacea.”

“Adagio is only one of those who have suffered for your callousness,” Prance continued. “I was moved to rectify the problem.”

“Well, you were most certainly ‘moved’ to do something, weren't you?” Upright taunted him. He waved his hoof. “Very well. If you are so eager to leave my presence, then I shall spare you the trouble of my company.” He turned and looked toward his guards. “To the Pit with him. The Sardhoof’s pegasi problem shall have to wait until he is feeling more conversive.”

“No!” Adagio cried struggling against her captors.

Upright’s eyes landed upon her next. This time they were wide, indignant. “Escort Her Grace back to her chambers,” the Duke commanded his guard. “And this time, make certain that she remains there until I return. Remove her spellbooks, empty her potion cabinet, keep that ring upon her horn! If she escapes again, it shall be you who disappears into the Pit!”

“Your Grace!” the guards responded in tandem, lifting Adagio by her bindings, and beginning the task of toting her away.

Adagio kicked and struggled against her restraints in vain, hysterical at the sight of Lighthoof being dragged out toward the path that led down to the Pit. “Release him!” she cried. “I said let him go, you miserable—”

“My Lord, Duke Goldenstalks, have mercy, I beg of you!” Moonstone cried, looking every other emotion besides submissive. “She is your wife! Are you intent on treating her this way forever?”

She received no response. Digging into his seemingly infinite well of coolness, Upright found it within himself to ignore her. “See Lady Moonstone to her chambers as well. Allow her to collect her things, and then usher her out,” the noblestallion commanded his entourage. “She is no longer welcome at Goldenstalks manor.”

Enraged by this act of disregard, the feisty heiress resorted to more familiar tactics. “What manner of overcompensating, small-snouted, stiff-tailed, tight arsed…” she prattled on never noticing how the Duke’s entire body tensed with her every insult, “sparse-maned, fizzle-horn, foalish, snot-nosed—”

“Gentlestallions?” the Duke suddenly called to his guard. “Away from her!”

“Your Grace!” the mare’s captors responded. Moving as one—as if having practiced it many times before—they stepped away from Moonstone, leaving a wide berth around her.

The mare hadn’t a moment to realize what was happening before she was hit with a powerful blast of orange magic. It flung her high into the air. She squealed, more in shock than pain, as the Duke’s barrier spell opened up behind her airborne body to allow her passage through. Sailing down, she hit the grass with a thunderous ‘THUD’.

“Moonstone!” Adagio screamed wrenching her head about to see if her sister was alright.

Violet, stunned to witness this fearful turn of events, could only manage to hold her ground, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Lighthoof was the first to realize that the mare was still moving where she had landed in the grass. Her robes were smoking and singed, but she was moving. “Moonstone, answer me!” he called out to her. “Are you alright?”

The spirited mare lay face down in the green for only a moment before one hoof planted itself beside her smoking left ear, and then the other beside the right. Lifting her head up, she spat out some grass. Her green eyes rolled much like they did after she’d had one too many helpings from a particularly strong batch of cider. “‘Course I'm alright!” she chuckled. “The bastard’s horn would barely do to spark dry straw!” Struggling to shaky hoof, she feigned composure before walking headlong into the estate’s magical barrier, and falling backward onto her bum. “Come again, you knave! Challenge me with some dignity! We shall see who the better mage is!”

“Moonstone!” Lighthoof hissed, bidding her to be quiet lest she stoke the Duke’s anger again. “Get away behind that tree!”

“Me? Run? Never!” Moonstone scoffed. Her horn sparked and buzzed as she absent-mindedly attempted to let off a beam of magic in Upright’s direction. Failing at this, she opted to stick her tongue out at him instead.

“You have a ring upon your horn, ye’ silly mare! Now, just do as I say and get behind that tree! Over there!” Lighthoof barked, nudging his head in the direction of a particularly thick oak to the mare’s left. His shoulders still rolled and rolled. The hidden hooves beneath his belly pulled at their restraints.

There was something in the knight’s eyes that Moonstone had not the patience to detect until the last possible moment before what happened next happened. Thankfully, she managed to catch the hint just in time. Backing away from the fizzling, orange barrier, she retreated toward the oak that the knight had mentioned. “This isn’t the last of it, Goldenstalks!” she cried, eyeing the Duke.

Duke Goldenstalks, who up until that moment had been busying himself with straightening his uniform, never noticed Moonstone’s particularly sporty brand of robes go flying from behind the oak tree. Nor did he notice Prance’s rolling shoulders finally cease their rolling. Nor did he notice that the knight’s scabbard had been turned about to sit beneath his body. It seemed to make sense, then, that he also would not notice Prance’s earth-reared form puffing with raw force to finally break free from its severed restraints. The curved silver dagger the knight had used to cut them was now bound tightly to his foreleg.

Before the remaining guards could attack, the white stallion let off a loud, reverberating whistle into the night air. “Now!” he cried.

Many things happened, all at once.

The heavy shroud of bushes surrounding the fountain clearing began to rustle and shake. Even as Upright’s horn glowed bright, and pointed itself in Lighthoof’s direction, something close to eighty or ninety rough and ragged ponies—most of them earth, a few unicorn—leapt from their hiding places. Prance’s white hoof landed square into an armored stallion’s jaw whilst, across the clearing, two large, bedraggled earth stallions tumbled the guards hoisting Adagio. They quickly set to work cutting her free with their teeth.

Violet’s indigo volley aimed itself upon Adagio’s saviors before a bright green beam struck her in the side. The Duchess Vision reeled in pain and fell to the ground. When she managed to search for who it was that dared attack her, she was shocked to see Moonstone standing beyond the barrier. Her body was rid of its hindering robes and her horn rid of its ring. Standing by her side was a familiar-looking earth mare with gentle eyes and grass green fur.

“Beryl?” Violet croaked. “How did you—”

“Adagio and Sir Lighthoof are coming with us! Out of our way, Sardhoof and Edinbridle! You shan't stop us!” Beryl cried. Her eyes were filled with uncertainty, and yet in the midsts of her newly-found independence she stood tall and did not recoil in fear.

“Violet, you snake in the grass!” Moonstone interjected. She charged her horn with such raw power that it emitted a crescendoing whirr. Her mane flowed on end. Her voice reverberated and echoed itself whilst her aura increased. “I'm going to make doubly sure that you spend the next year in a tub full of hex-breaking potion for what you’ve done! Get up! Get up and face me!”

The entire world seemed to hold its breath at the mare’s words. All was silent save for the whirring and sparking of Moonstone’s horn. One second more, and every free unicorn on the scene was standing at ready, their horns alight. The earth ponies, wisely, decided to stand watch at their backs. Slowly, a circle rounded about the Duke and his remaining entourage, closing them into a barrier from which they could not escape without injury.

“You are outnumbered, Sardhoof!” Beryl called again. “Let us go in peace! This is all we want!”

The Duke seethed. His horn’s aura sparked and roiled when he saw Adagio and Lighthoof, now both free, race to embrace one another. However, being a pony of logic, even he had to concede that the chances of four ponies defeating over eighty were rather slim. Possible, but slim. And if anything, he was not a stallion to squander precious resources, soldiers included.

Upright inhaled deeply—the hissing sound he made was similar to that of fire being doused in water. He allowed his horn to go dim. “Very well. Go. Get out of my sight. However, I want one thing in return,” he said, his tone gone cold and flat.

“What?” Violet huffed, reeling upon him and stomping her hoof. “Goldenstalks, you are not serious! You cannot simply allow them all to leave! These ponies are criminals! What should happen if—”

“Lady Vision, remember yourself!” Upright bellowed, his horn sparking. “I said they are free to leave Goldenstalks manor. As things stand, we shall not win this fight. But not to worry. They shan’t get far.” He then turned to face Adagio and Prance, a glimmer in his eye.

Adagio shoved herself in front of the knight and charged her horn in warning.

“What is it that you want?” Beryl called from the Duke’s rear, beyond the fizzling magical barrier.

“Everypony may go. Even you Ada, if your heart is truly set on it,” Upright continued, feigning aloofness. “My one condition is that Lighthoof must stay.”

A grim murmur encompassed the crowd of ponies. It didn't take a genius to figure what they were all discussing.

Naturally, Adagio was the first to step forward in protest. “No, Upright! Lighthoof will leave with the rest of us!”

“If you attempt to leave with Lighthoof, I shan't guarantee that the rest of you will remain unharmed,” Upright shot. “Lighthoof stays, and all of you may leave without fear of injury or worse.”

“That thounds like a fair thrade to me,” one particularly toothless earth stallion said.

“Aye, and why shouldn't the knight remain? His family has been guarding the Goldenstalks for decades, hasn't it?” called a far too skinny unicorn mare.

Bit by bit, the crowd began to turn until, at last, they were all but closing in upon Adagio, shouting for Prance to surrender himself.

The Duchess Goldenstalks bore down defensively, her horn glowing even brighter. “Have you all gone mad? Do not allow the Duke to break your resolve! We outnumber them! We can still break free if you would only—”

“Very well,” a voice said from behind her. Calmly and confidently, Prance walked away from his beloved’s protection, bound for the Duke's guards. “I shall stay if that means freedom for them all. ‘Tis a fair trade.”

“Lighthoof! Are you mad?” Adagio gasped, her magic failing her. She leapt forward to block his path. “Do not stay. Please, I beg of you!”

Prance grinned that same warm smile that Adagio loved so. She felt her skin going warm as he reached out to caress her cheek.

“Gio, I want you to be realistic now. Be that strong, sharp mare that I remember. Think for a moment. Look around you. Understand how these ponies have suffered, and then tell me that I should not surrender.”

“But…” Adagio sighed as she gazed out upon the countless wretched: stallions and mares, earth and unicorn, even a few foals. She could not find it in herself to put them all in anymore danger for her own selfish desires. Others had often demanded that she take on the weighted responsibilities of a Duchess. Perhaps tonight was a fine night indeed to do right by her ponies, to be trusted rather than simply adored.

She gazed into Lighthoof’s eyes, her head still shaking in protest. Something wet streaked down her cheek, and was quickly kissed away by her beloved knight. She couldn't bring herself to say the word, but she no longer had to.

Lighthoof smiled, seeing the truth in her eyes. “I love you, Gio,” he said, leaning in to kiss her lips one more time. He then turned around, and continued on toward the guards.

Upright glowered at them both. The tender looks in their eyes worked to make him realize something awful about himself. As he watched their lips touch, he understood fully all the opportunity he had squandered and lost. Here this earth gentry stood, grinning and making eyes at something he had seduced and stolen. Something that rightfully belonged to him, a Duke of the mighty unicorn peerage.

Upright's eyes narrowed as Lighthoof stood before him, waiting.

“Well?” the knight said. “You have me. Now, release them.”

“Very well,” Upright replied. The words escaped his throat as a rasp. His eyes had gone all red again, and if one were to look close enough, one would note how his forelegs now trembled. The unicorn bowed his head. Gradually, his horn began to glow.

The gathering became tense, waiting to see exactly what would come of the Duke’s promises. Lighthoof was the only pony who did not flinch. Like Adagio, he had known Upright long enough to know what he would do.

The enchanted dome around the estate fizzled and hissed. It sparked once, bright as day. Then again, a bit dimmer like the moon. The third time it flashed, the projection of its image remained, then began to fade until nothing at all was left. The cage had been opened. They were all free to go.

The Duke waited, and so did the crowd. They couldn’t believe that things might be so simple, not after all the time they had spent down in the dank and dark. Upright, fed up with the entire evening, reared up unto his hind legs, and flashed his horn menacingly at them all. “Get out! Get out now before I change my blasted mind!” he cried. He didn’t have to speak again.

The entire gathering surged, headed straight for the border of Sardhoof forest. One by one, ponies disappeared into the darkness of the woods until none were left behind.

Even Moonstone, after shaking a threatening hoof in Violet’s direction, decided it would be wiser to stay back. She remained beyond the barrier line beside Beryl. The noblemare took a passing glance at the former maidservant. Her eyes lingered. She smiled coyly. “You look different somehow,” she said, turning away again. “I like it.”

Beryl didn’t acknowledge her statement, too busy staring out into the fountain’s clearing where only Adagio remained upon the estate’s land. The Duchess Goldenstalks’ hooves were glued to their spot as she looked on helplessly toward the two stallions who had torn her world asunder.

Beryl frowned. The look Adagio was wearing worried her immensely. “Miss Adagio!” she called. “We must leave this place! Now!”

“She’s right, Gio,” Lighthoof said, his eyes never wavering away from the Duke’s. “Go.”

Adagio trembled. Her hooves plodded about anxiously. “I… I can’t, Lighthoof! I—”

“Gio! You must! There is no going back to that mare you once were. The time has come for you to live a life of your choosing!” the knight insisted.

“Prance!” Adagio lamented.

“Miss Adagio! Now!” Beryl called from the beyond.

Adagio huffed with resolve, and allowed her mind to go blank. Willing her legs to move, she closed her eyes, and made a straight dash for the oak tree where Moonstone and Beryl were waiting.

Violet, who had managed to remain mostly quiet until now, watched her sister go. Rage boiled in her eyes. “Goldenstalks, this is not at all what we have agreed to,” she murmured just loud enough for Upright to hear her.

Upright’s eyes remained trained straight ahead at Lighthoof. The sound of Adagio’s hooves upon the grass began to fade, little by little. The Duke’s smile grew in tandem with this noise. “On the contrary, Lady Duchess,” he said.

Adagio was near the barrier, now.

“I assure you, you will get exactly what it is you have asked for,” Upright finished, just as Adagio’s hooves crossed the line between estate ground and the Sardhoof.

Her hind hooves had just kicked up those lingering pieces of grass when she heard a crackling and fizzling at her rear. Unable to spin around fast enough, she gazed out toward Moonstone and Beryl whose expressions had fallen slack with shock. A bright glow of orange reflected upon their fur, rising up from their hooves until it was cast against the entire oak tree.

Upon reaching them, Adagio spun about and gazed back toward Goldenstalks manor where Upright’s enchanted barrier had been re-erected, much stronger this time. She peered past it in horror to where Upright stood in the middle of the clearing. His horn was glowing bright whilst a deadly beam of sheer power was blasting into the center of Prance’s chest.

“No!” Adagio screeched, racing back toward the barrier where she pounded, and scratched, and dug to no avail. “Upright stop!”

“You treacherous charlatan!” Upright growled, his body gleaming, his mane caught aflame. “You smile, you laugh, you feed happy lies to the impressionable, never supposing that you might ever have to pay for your deceptions.” He caught Lighthoof’s stunned body up into his magic, and tossed it far and hard where it slammed against the estate’s magical barrier.

Sparks surrounded Prance as he fell to the ground in a daze. Adagio was before him in an instant, pounding upon the magical wall, bidding him to rise. “Lighthoof, get up! Get up and fight!” she begged him as he struggled to get to his hooves. Of course it went without saying that an earth pony who would willingly choose to take on a fully empowered unicorn was probably also suicidal. Still, there was little other choice to be made at the moment. “Fight him, Lighthoof!”

“Yes, Lighthoof, turn and face me!” the Duke bellowed, sending a relatively slow warning blast Lighthoof’s way.

The white stallion dodged to the side just in time. His eyes grew alert once more. His body shook, adrenaline now coursing through his veins.

“We shall free you!” Adagio cried, placing her hoof against the fizzling orange wall of light. “But you have to hold him off! As long as you can manage!”

Prance only had time to look at Adagio once. “Adagio, you need to lea—” he began, only to find himself hoisted up into an orange beam once again, and thrown into a large tree.

When flying branches and jagged shards of bark rained down upon Violet and the two remaining estate guards, they decided that backing away from the scene was a wise decision to make.

Lighthoof reeled where he lay at the roots of the decimated tree before getting back up to his hooves. Shaking the trembles from his body, he stole himself and bore down upon his forelegs. Huffing steam, he pulled the strap upon his dagger tight with his teeth, then made a mad dash in Upright’s direction. Adagio was right. Even if she never found a way to set him free, she was still right. He would have to fight if there was to be an inkling of a chance that he might survive.

Upright projected a powerful beam directly at him. Lighthoof dodged it once, then again, the earth tearing up beneath his hooves. The Duke’s horn sparked once more, and suddenly a hail of glowing orange shards rained down upon the knight’s back. One caught him on his shoulder, gashing it open. Another caught him on his hind leg. He was nearly upon the unicorn stallion when something stung him upon his forehead. A warm trickle slid down the middle of his face. Lighthoof could taste blood. Again, Upright’s horn flashed. Now was the knight’s chance. Now, before the Duke could cast another spell.

With a great cry, Lighthoof dove through the air, his head bound directly for the center of Upright’s chest. The Duke’s horn glowed, and in a moment, a transparent orange shield had erected itself in front of his body. Lighthoof crashed headlong into the shield, ricocheting off of it and onto the ground.

“I’ll crush you where you lie,” Upright growled through bared teeth as the shield of light turned itself horizontally, and careened down into the earth. Again, Lighthoof rolled out of the way, rounding about to Upright’s side. As the magical shield disappeared, it left a deep, smoking crater in its wake.

When the spell had completely dissipated, and the Duke’s horn was recharging itself, Lighthoof got to his hooves. He was so close to the unicorn’s face now that his tail could have touched him were he to spin around.

The earth stallion’s outfitted foreleg crossed to his front, then upward and out. The world slowed down as Prance’s dagger edged up toward the pristine, gilded buttons splayed across Upright’s chest, so symbolic of the guarded and untouched fantasy world the Duke had erected about himself. As the blade met flesh and cut deep, the two tiny suns within Upright’s eyes sputtered and died down to a stunned, icy blue.

The Duke reeled for a moment and then fell backward onto the ground whilst gazing down in shock at his own bleeding chest. His breath quickened as tingling turned into stinging, and stinging into an unbearable searing. Never before had anypony managed to touch him, much less create in him this sort of sensation. He had always been the bookish type of colt and young stallion, the type to stay indoors whilst his peers were busy skinning their knees and rolling down rocky hills for fun. The rough ways of the earth had never seemed significant to him. Tolerance for these hard-earned scuffs and bruises of life’s affections was something, he only now realized, he had never acquired.

Upright’s chest heaved once, twice. His vision blurred in and out before settling on ultra-sharpness. For the first time in his life, the sounds of the earth, and the wood, and his guard’s hooves plodding across grass, and Lighthoof’s menacing face seemed sharper than ever before. A cruel world he had hardly ever noticed now came into focus. Something filled his nostrils. He tried to shake the smell out of his nose before realizing that it was fresh forest air mingled with the heavy scent of two warring stallions. Not knowing what else to do, he clawed at his ruined uniform until it slid off of his shoulders and away into the grass. Blood streaked down the fur of his orange belly, as he retreated away from the white knight. He needed a moment. Just a moment to catch his bearings. A moment that, if Lighthoof was smart, he wouldn’t allow.

“You… you shall pay for that,” Upright stammered. His voice sounded wholly unsure of itself.

Lighthoof grinned, relishing the fresh fear rooted in the Duke’s eyes. The same grin that could so easily put minds and hearts to rest filled the noble unicorn with pure apprehension. His horn sparked and failed. One more time, and its aura died down to nothing.

“And how much do I owe you, Upright? Put it on a tab, old chum!” Prance chuckled, tightening the band upon his foreleg again. The two guards who dared approach him were quickly hoofed and cut down to unconsciousness before the knight continued on his path. “Tell me, can you function at all without your ledger? Your quill and ink?” He huffed steam. The earth-reared muscles in his forelegs twitched as he wiped the trickling blood from his forehead. He was smiling up until the moment his shadow cast darkness over the Duke’s breathless form. “Even still, do ye’ truly think that any of your books could help you now?”

He brought his head in toward Upright’s. There was a beat of silence between them, blue gazing into deep purple.

In one swift motion, Lighthoof’s forehead went smashing into Upright’s face. Again, and a clean muzzle was now dripping blood. One more time, and ice blue was now haloed by a swelling purple.

It was only for self defense that Upright was able to muster enough magic to blast a beam straight into Lighthoof’s face. As the white stallion staggered back, momentarily blinded, the Duke stumbled to his hooves and dove forward, barreling into his chest. His magic, his rules, his constant show of refinery eluded him now. For the first time, the Duke was all gnashing teeth on fur, and torn up earth beneath bloody flesh, and merciless hooves upon bone.

“You lecherous, conniving bastard!” Upright barked, rolling about in the scorched earth with Lighthoof’s blood and sweat-soaked mane between his teeth. “We shall see how useful you are to a mare after I blast you between the stifles!”

“And even then I shall still prove more useful than you ever were, you pompous, limp-tailed git!” Lighthoof quipped, hoofing the Duke across his already reddened maw.

Meanwhile, off by the old oak, Moonstone shook her head as she and her companions looked out at the roiling cloud of dust and leaves. She clapped her hooves together sarcastically. “Well, that’s stallions for you. Well done, Adagio. Hopefully they shall both soon knock the other out cold. Make our jobs easier.” She turned almost boredly to gaze at her elder sister. “Any ideas as yet?”

Adagio’s brow furrowed as she attempted to ignore the warring heap out by the fountain. Taking a deep breath, she settled her mind and focused. “We must disrupt the Duke’s barrier, or at least just enough of it to give Lighthoof a way to escape. But I’ve never seen such a thing done before. I’m uncertain as to how we might possibly…”

“Oh, dragonshit, Gio,” Moonstone huffed. “S’just a bit of magic. Nothing more. We’ve learned hundreds of evasive spells since youth. The Dispel, the Dispute, the Repulse, the Warder, the Dismiss—that one’s my personal favorite, by the way. We simply have to figure which one is the most powerful.”

Beryl stood off to the side in silence, listening to this very unicorn-oriented conversation and looking completely mystified.

“Well, the spell has long since been cast. The Dispute and the Repulse shan’t work now,” Adagio replied. “Perhaps the Dispel?”

Moonstone cleared her throat. “The Dismiss, darling. We shall try that one, together.” She did not wait for a reply before bounding off toward the magical barrier. Adagio and Beryl followed close behind.

Once they had arrived at the border of the estate, Moonstone drew her sister forward to stand before her, and quickly bowed her head. “With all of our strength, now!” she called as her horn began to whirr and glow a blinding green. Her body encapsulated itself within a high-beam of emerald light. Flecks of purple shimmered at its edges. She resembled a glorious shooting star and her halo its sparkling tail.

“Beryl, stand back!” Adagio warned the earth mare as she too charged her horn.

Beryl obediently ran for cover.

The forest sang as its magic was drawn in by the mares’ will. Their manes flowed up into a rush of power, and their eyes flashed white hot. When they both bowed their heads forward to touch their horns, the haloes about them mingled and grew into an enormous, humming and frothing ball of smoke and brilliance. It gushed, spread itself, and heaved forward against the Duke’s magical barrier, crashing into it with a deafening blast. The light emitted upon impact made the world flash white. When the glow died down, and the forest finally hushed its whispering, the two unicorns lay heaving upon the ground. The estate’s magical barrier still remained, steadfast and strong.

“No. Oh no!” Adagio panted, struggling back up to her hooves. “How could that have not worked? It was our strongest spell! What shall we do now?”

Beryl, watching the two noblemares’ plan fail from the sidelines, immediately rushed forward to meet them. “Miss Adagio, Miss Moonstone, I believe I have another solution!”

In the beyond, Lighthoof had somehow managed to round about to Upright’s rear, and collect the noble’s neck into a deadly-looking headlock. Upright gagged and choked until his horn sparked in orange, surrounded the both of them into a halo, and cast Lighthoof off into the crater he’d made earlier. With a savage growl, the Duke dove in after him.

Violet remained standing off to the side, bellowing for the both of them to stop.

“The Duke’s power is returning,” Moonstone stated matter-of-factly. “We should think of something else.”

“Miss Adagio! Miss Moonstone!” Beryl called, reaching into the neck of the tattered rags about her shoulders. “I believe I—”

“What if we simply power rammed the wall?” Adagio suggested, ignoring the earth mare once again. “We build our energy again, and—”

“Listen to me!” Beryl cried, stomping her hoof into the grass. The two noblemares gazed upon her, looking quite stunned. It was only then that the former maidservant removed the hoof she had buried within her shawl to pull out what, at first, appeared to be the strangest and most crudely made piece of jewelry either unicorn had ever seen. It was fashioned from a thin, simple twine, knotted together upon its edge. Hanging from this twine were about twenty or so large, metal rings.

Moonstone edged in closer to take a look. “What is that, Beryl? Oh, dear, did you make that dreadful thing in order to keep sane whilst you were locked away in their Pit? Spirits, the absolute horro—”

“Those are enchanted rings!” Adagio gasped, pushing her overly dramatic sister out of the way—which was fine enough since the true nature of the necklace didn’t entice Moonstone into getting close to Beryl again. “Where did you find those, Beryl?”

“From the horns of your unicorn prisoners. I figured they might come in useful,” Beryl said. “And they have! This was how I managed to escape the barrier in the first place!”

“What?” Adagio and Moonstone cried in tandem.

“Why did you not say anything before?” Moonstone screamed, her horn sparking.

Beryl recoiled, looking rather embarrassed. “Well, because…” she started, “the sensation of using them is rather unpleasant. Rather painful, actually. Most of the unicorns could not bear it. So, I decided to see what you would come up with first.”

“Well, bully for you!” Moonstone cried with a roll of her eyes. Rounding about Beryl, she shoved the earth mare forward toward the barrier. “Now, make that terror of an accessory work before those two kill each other!”

“I cannot by myself,” Beryl said, bowing her head to allow the necklace to slip onto the grass. She undid the knot so that the rings fell free, and then collected three of them into her teeth. “I need one of you to help me.”

Moonstone looked toward Adagio, and Adagio toward Moonstone.

“S’all yours, dear,” Moonstone deadpanned. “Those rings give me the shakes.”

“Thought as much,” Adagio sighed, stepping forward. “I’ll do it.” Bending down, she collected the rings into her teeth. Immediately, she felt their magic-repelling power drain some of the force from her body. Her legs trembled, and she stumbled. Moonstone rushed forward to help her back up, and edge her toward the barrier.

“We both must push the rings into the barrier at the same time. It shall be more painful for you, but you must hold steady until Lighthoof can make it through,” Beryl instructed them both.

“Moonstone? You shall fetch him. Understood?” Adagio commanded her sister.

Moonstone nodded.

“Alright, on the count of three,” Beryl shouted. “One… two… three!”

Adagio shut her eyes and rushed forward until she felt the sting of the metal rings between her teeth repelling the magic of the barrier. Her brain buzzed, the fur upon her face felt hot, and the flesh beneath it burned like fire. The pain was unbearable and yet, the thought of Lighthoof’s smiling face was enough to give her the strength to endure.

The tiniest hole opened up in the magical wall about her mouth. It began to spread until it was a wide and gaping archway, an earth mare and a unicorn duchess on either of its sides.

“Moonstone!” Beryl called, her eyes weeping tears of pain.

Moonstone rushed in through the doorway, headed straight for the crater in the middle of the clearing. When she stood upon its side, she looked down into the darkness and found just as much as she expected: two stallions beating each other senseless amongst the grime. “Lighthoof! Get him down! It is time to go!” she bellowed. She saw Lighthoof’s ear twitch. Had he heard her?

Violet, having seen the amazing feat of the three mares, rushed forward, her horn glowing bright. She shot once at Moonstone in desperation, but the younger mare quickly dodged out of the way.

Moonstone’s horn glowed in green, and soon she had encapsulated herself within her own magical shield. “Lighthoof! Now or never!” she cried again.

And again, Violet directed a powerful beam at her sister, breaking through her shield, and sending her flying into the crater. “You aren’t going anywhere!” the Duchess Vision screamed. “If you presume that I would ever allow you to run away from retribution, then you’ve gone absolutely mad!”

Moonstone landed upon the battling pair with a sickening ‘THUD’. As pained as she was, she recognized this as her best chance to save Lighthoof. Forcing herself between the two, she bucked Upright away from Prance’s body. “Hold onto me, Lighthoof!” she screamed, hoofing the knight across the jaw to snap him out of his blind rage.

As if seeing her for the very first time, Lighthoof’s entire visage cleared up. He blinked once, nodded his head, and rushed round to wrap his forelegs about Moonstone’s middle.

“Have you got him?” Adagio called from the barrier, her voice barely audible amongst the chaotic whirring and clashing of magics.

“Got ‘im!” Moonstone cried as her horn glowed, encapsulating Lighthoof and herself within green.

Violet’s horn flashed bright. She was on the brink of casting a disruptive spell. Upright, lost in his rage, was already flying through the air, Lighthoof’s neck within his sights.

Moonstone breathed deeply and focused on the doorway Adagio and Beryl had created in the beyond. The Duke had banished all teleportation spells within his closed barrier, but perhaps concentrating on the tiny place where his conjurations no longer existed might still work.

There was a flash of light, and a rush in her stomach. When Moonstone again felt grass beneath her hooves, she prayed that her eyes would open to find the barrier doorway sitting right in front of her.

They did.

“Quickly! I can’t hold it much longer!” Beryl hissed, urging them both through.

Prance and Moonstone dove headlong through the opening. The two escaped ponies landed hard in the grass, one atop the other. Moonstone, now groaning and sputtering beneath Lighthoof’s weight, was quick to protest. “Gerroff me ye’ big lummox! Do you realize how heavy your dense earth bones are, you—” She paused. Her eyes popped open wide. Her tail swished back and forth. “Well! That certainly feels different without my robes on.”

By the time Beryl and Adagio had backed away from the barrier and dropped their smoking rings into the grass, Beryl’s fur was steaming and Adagio’s mane had exploded into an enormous, orange frizz. They both turned to approach their companions.

“Are you alright, Moonstone?” Lighthoof gasped, only now realizing that he had landed atop of her. Jumping to his hooves, he helped her up.

“Just splendid,” Moonstone tittered, dusting herself off and edging up closer to the earth stallion. “But I must say, Lighthoof, that I didn’t realize you cared…”

“Errr… ” Lighthoof stammered before his entire body was cloaked in a ruby beam of magic and levitated somewhere far away.

His emptied place in the grass beside Moonstone was quickly reoccupied by Adagio. “Moonstone, have you any shame at all?” the golden unicorn sighed, her hulking mane still sizzling smoke.

“None whatsoever,” Moonstone chirped, daring to pass a wink Lighthoof’s way.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Beryl piped in, collecting her enchanted rings back onto their twine. “But we should probably leave. The Duke’s full power has nearly returned!”

When the ragtag group of ponies looked again into the smouldering streak of scorched earth, both Upright and Violet were standing beyond the crater. Upright, bloodied and beaten, was bearing down onto his forelegs, concentrating as hard as he could upon replenishing his magic so that he might revoke his own spell. Violet stood beside him, fuming and raging, casting incantation after incantation upon the magical barrier to no avail.

“Ugh. They deserve each other,” Moonstone spat, sticking her tongue out in Violet’s direction. “Come along then, all of you!” She turned about and casually trotted off into the darkness of the Sardhoof. “By the way, does anypony happen to know exactly where it is we are going?”

Adagio was the only one who lingered for a moment more, staring out across the clearing toward Upright and Violet. Even after all that had happened, and all they had done, some part of her still felt responsible for the pair’s misery.

________

Once they had trekked far enough away from the manor, and the only light visible was that of the shining moon, they stopped to say their goodbyes. Moonstone collected her sister up into a warm embrace, and then made room for Beryl to do the same.

Even when the enchanted rings around Beryl’s neck stung her chest, Adagio felt no desire to pull away. The question lingered in her mind: Would she ever see either of them again? Looking into their eyes, she knew that they were thinking the same.

“What shall you do now?” she asked looking from sister to closest friend and back again.

“The Duke will want me. There is no going back to a life of servitude after all of this I imagine,” Beryl stated outright. She winked Adagio’s way. “I suppose I shall gather those ponies I freed from the Pit, and see what they now think is the best course of action for the Sardhoof.”

“Oh, I love it, Beryl!” Moonstone exclaimed, clapping her hooves together. Her eyes had gone all dreamy. “A battle-worn beauty! Scarred by hatred and betrayal! With her terrifying necklace of unicorn misery, the Sardhoof leg of the Resistance is precisely the place for her now! The nobility shall tremble when they hear the horrendous ‘jingle jangle’ of her enchanted rings upon the winds!”

Beryl blinked at Moonstone. “A… alright,” she said.

“Um. Pardon me?” Adagio clucked, placing her hooves upon her hips. “‘The Resistance’ you say? ‘The nobility shall tremble’ you say? And what exactly do you suppose we are? Field peasants?”

Moonstone rolled her eyes and swatted her hooves in her sister’s direction. “Oh, Gio, you are so very behind the times. The House of Glow is already part of the Resistance… Well, save for Mother. Father and I don’t tell her anything. Can you believe she still hasn’t noticed? She’s too self-centered to realize that all of our earth pony servants are already turned. And as we have learned, Violet is far too set in her ways to realize that she would never have been put in danger had she simply seen reason and come home to Whinnysor sooner. Why do you suppose all of those pegasi continue to lurk around the Glow estate without harming us? How did you suppose that I was able to invite Saga Celine for tea, anyway?” She snorted. “By asking nicely? Please, Gio. Give me just a little more credit than that.”

When her words finally died away, a strange silence pervaded the empty space between them, a silence in which all four ponies’ fears were realized. Perhaps this, indeed, would be the last time they would ever meet.

“I shall see you at home for tea when this whole sordid mess blows over, alright?” Moonstone wavered, trying and failing to stave off the tears now filling her eyes. She leaned in one more time to embrace her sister.

“Miss Adagio,” Beryl added, stepping forward to adjust the cloak that hung about her former mistress’s shoulders, perhaps for old times’ sake, “I beg of you both, no matter where you may go, no matter what you may do, please be—”

“Be careful,” Adagio interjected, wiping the moisture from her own cheek. “I know, Beryl. We shall.”

Beryl’s brow furrowed in confusion. She laughed politely and shook her head.

Moonstone moved to stand beside the earth mare. “That isn’t what she was going to say, silly filly,” the noblemare laughed as she bid Beryl to take hold of her tail. “She was going to say: No matter what you do, please… be happy.”

The youngest Glow sister gave her kin a playful hoof to the shoulder before she stood back. Her horn began to glow. The rising light of her aura drew the tears from her face until nothing remained but a hopeful smile.

“Moonstone, Beryl,” Adagio stammered, trying to think of the perfect thing to say to them. “I… I shall see you again. I swear it,” was all she could manage. Prance gently nipped at her tail, drawing her away from the force of Moonstone’s magic.

Moonstone sniffed back the last of her lingering sadness and shot her usual cheeky grin Adagio’s way. “You had better. That’s my cloak you’re wearing, I’ll have you know.” Her green eyes went wide as her aura brightened. She gasped and turned to face Beryl whose eyes were squeezed shut. “Your mane! It’s your mane that is different, isn’t it Beryl? Oh, I love it! Do you think you could do that with mine? Wait… What kind of tea do you like?”

In a flash of green, they were both gone.

Lighthoof collected Adagio up into an embrace until she had stopped her crying. “You know, when you say those types of things, things like “I shall see you again,” it is best if you were to believe them,” he chided her gently.

She forced a laugh and nodded to herself, wiping away the last of her tears. “Right!” she called out, inhaling deeply upon the night air. “I suppose we should be off, too, then!” She paused, and turned to face her lover. “Where should we go, Lighthoof? The skies are hunting us, you realize.”

Prance nudged his bruised and muddied nose against hers, smiled, and calmly reached up to adjust her cloak. “You’ve travelled to the countryside before, haven’t you?” he inquired.

Adagio nodded her head as she tucked her curls beneath the cloak’s hood. “Dreadfully boring, but yes. Many times.”

“Do you remember the large field of purple thistle and dandelion you would pass upon the main road. It is only a little ways from the Goldenstalks’ country estate.”

“Yes.” Adagio paused again, then smiled coyly. “Is that your little blue friend’s farm, by any chance? Are you saying that I shall finally be afforded the opportunity to snoop around in her affairs?”

Prance chuckled and saddled in close to the Duchess as her horn began to glow. “Well, if you can remember those fields enough to transport us there, then I suppose you could at least be afforded that privilege.”

“Oh, I’ll get us there,” Adagio hummed mischievously. She bore down upon her forelegs as her horn flashed.

In an instant they, too, were gone.

Author's Note

"Upright’s chest heaved once, twice. His vision blurred in and out before settling on ultra-sharpness. For the first time in his life... shit got real."

You have no idea how strong the urge was to write that ^.

Precipice

Run, rabbit, run,

Through shaded wood and glen.

Get away, my pet, get away,

Or you shan’t pass this way again.

For master fox shall catch you.

The grinning fox shall catch you,

And that shall be your end.

A sharp ache in the side of Adagio’s head reminded her that she had hit the ground. Something soft brushed against the fur of her belly then swept across her nose. How tender the sensation felt before the world became clear again, before she was winded by ropes yanked about her middle, and a ring was shoved down upon her horn. Her eyes fluttered open to catch a wisp of white disappear behind the edges of her mane.

“Stupid. Little. Rrrgh!” a familiar mare’s voice grumbled below its breath.

Reddened skies came into focus, flying silhouettes of ponies dancing within its smoke. The smell of rotted leaves filled Adagio’s nostrils.

There was a trembling in the air. It twisted and deepened into a low, threatening growl, one the Duchess could feel in her bones. The sensation felt entirely appropriate, however. Every second more that the sound dug into her consciousness, the more it called to her, the more contagious it became.

“I should sever the wench’s horn and wear it in my belt,” the mystery mare sniffed from somewhere out of sight.

“Don't fret about it, Hum,” a stallion’s voice eased into the quiet spaces. “The potion should have your wing right as rain in—”

“Shut up!” the unseen mare bellowed. Only then did she roundabout to Adagio’s front. Seeing the Duchess had awakened, Echo Hum lowered her head to meet her gaze. “I'll see that you pay for that horn to the wing, Flower. But for the time being you must excuse us. We've got a little, blue grease spot to wipe from the face of the earth.”

“Sonata!” a second stallion’s voice called.

Adagio’s world grew a little bigger. She looked upon Prance laying in the grass nearby. He tensed against his restraints before a large, grey hoof caught him across the jaw.

“Relax there, friend,” Silent Wing sneered. “Wouldn’t want another helping of what you got earlier, would you?”

“Wing!” Echo called, drawing her partner’s attention away from the knight and out toward the bright and rolling red.

Adagio’s back was toward the cliffside. She could not see Sonata from her position.The low growling that only she could hear grew deeper, more guttural. She wriggled against her bindings. Looking upon Silent Wing, Adagio hoped that the stallion would not do anything brash before she could break free.

She paused when she glanced at him. Something had changed about Wing in those few split seconds. His face had contorted. His green eyes went wide and glossy whilst his wings wilted toward the ground. “What in Tartarus is she doin’? What’s wrong with her eyes?” he wavered. “Them dirt knockers can’t do that, can they?”

Adagio frowned at these words. “Miss Dusk?” she called, receiving no reply.

“I don't know what it is she’s doing, and neither do I care,” Echo hissed somewhere at Adagio’s back. “I shall gut her before she has the chance.”

“Miss Dusk!” the Duchess called again, realizing that her time was up.

By her side, Lighthoof tussled, nipping and gnawing at his chains. His frantic disposition made Adagio feel sick to her stomach. She realized then that she had never seen the knight look so terrified before. He cared for that blue mare deeply, and the pain reflected in his eyes tore at her heart.

That familiar gnawing sensation of guilt and fear began to creep over the Duchess. Innocents were suffering before her eyes, and the one thing they all had in common was their association with her. Now, the Dusk mare would perish. Prance would be brought to swift retribution at the hooves of somepony spiteful. Everywhere Adagio looked lay a trap, another dead end. Perhaps she had been attempting to run from the inevitable after all.

Adagio’s eyes closed for her inability to courageously look upon the world that she had created. For what felt like the thousandth time, she lamented being weaker than the Duke; so much weaker than the forces that he wielded. If only she could have been a little stronger, a little more collected, a little more cunning, maybe then she could have had the power to fix this, too. Maybe she could have—

Be quiet! At long last, Adagio Dazzle, silence! So, you are not the shining example of benevolence that you ought to be. You have hurt undeserving ponies for selfish reasons. You have put yourself first in all matters because you were fearful. You ran when you could not win. So be it, and may Tartarus have you for it when the time comes. But Spirits damn you if you ever believe again that you are too weak! On this night, Adagio, you shall see what you can do instead of fearing what you cannot. You shall put to use that which you have at your disposal, and you shall figure a way free. You've conjured marvelous thoughts even within the vice-like grip of noble bondage, and you shall conjure even greater thoughts still! Now, stop this pitiful self-flagellation and just… think!

There is a bright moment, a blinding space in between great changes of the heart. Existing within it is to experience a second birth into a creature closer to what one ought to be. Like a butterfly on the verge of pushing through its cocoon, in a tiny temporal space, darkness pervades. One is small, warm, surrounded by the false comforts of the little that is known. Then the shell cracks and barely, just barely, something glimmering, and gorgeous, and terrifying, and new begins to peek through…

“Lighthoof. Your teeth,” Adagio said, trying to keep her voice well below the mercenary pair's earshot. She nudged her horn in the white knight's direction. “Lend them to me.”

At first the knight paid her no mind. Beaten, tired, and terrified for his friend, he continued to look out toward the Dusk filly’s cliff with the type of confused panic that made Adagio’s stomach lurch. “Something is wrong, Gio. Sonata… What is she—”

“Lighthoof!” Adagio hissed, writhing in the leaves until his attentions were trained firmly upon her.

Taking a moment to catch his bearings, Prance nodded his head, curled his bound middle, and inched over in Adagio’s direction. Once they lay parallel to each other, he leaned his head in, and bit down upon the ring about her horn. The searing pain did not seem to bother him as much as it had Sonata, and after a moment of tenuous silence, Adagio’s magic had been restored.

Her ropes were the first to go. And when she could stand, she looked out toward the cliff. Her jaw hung slack.

There Sonata sat like a stone, a fixture against a backdrop of boiling red. The unruly winds drifting from the blazing inferno tugged and tore at the mare’s long mane. Her tattered kerchief surrendered itself to the unsettled sky. She appeared wholly self-contained in her own might. Her eyes burned hotter than the flames at her back.

Listening intently, Adagio was stunned to discover that the blue mare had been the source of the growl she had heard. For a moment, the Duchess felt her mind slipping away as those two red hot orbs set into Sonata’s skull bore into her, beckoning her to do… something… She didn't know exactly what the something was, but felt that it was obvious, old, and ingrained within every fiber of her being.

“Fetch Sonata. She cannot fight those two,” Prance commanded, attempting to shake the ring’s residual buzzing from his ears.

“Be quiet, Lighthoof. I know what I am doing. Sonata will be fine,” Adagio murmured, not knowing how, exactly, she knew this to be true, but knowing it all the same. Bowing her head, she touched her horn to the chains banded about Prance’s body, and released him. Standing near to the stallion so that their barrels touched, she then turned to face the mercenary pair advancing upon Sonata. “You two, bird-brained scoundrels!” she bellowed, giving a loud whistle for good measure.

Surprised by the outburst, Silent and Echo turned.

“Have you yet to learn your lesson about leaving unicorns unattended?” Adagio shot vindictively just before her horn flashed.

When its light had dimmed, she and Lighthoof were gone.

______

The woods grew more menacing. The flora and fauna seemed to sense that two beings reeking of death were hard at work amongst them. Lest any of them become the new object of the winged pair’s ire, they had all decided to remain still as could be.

Perhaps it was unwise for Adagio and Prance to remain so close to one another where they lay inside of a tiny ravine. Surely, their odds of evading the pegasi would have increased had they split up. However, Prance could not fight the mercenaries from a distance as Adagio could, and Adagio could not traverse the Sardhoof alone. At the moment, their strongest plan for defense was their partnership.

Doing her best not to make a sound, Adagio turned her head and eyed Prance, just to make certain that he was still there. Prance, nodded his head reassuringly, even going so far as to wave Adagio over.

The Duchess had just made to move when, to her horror, one white-feathered lump decked in black landed silently into a small clearing in the distance. The Duchess took in a breath and held it. It was impossible that Echo might hear her breathing from so far away, but Adagio wasn't going to take any chances.

Wings outstretched, back hunched, Echo Hum seemed a pony possessed. Her ears twitched about whilst her pupils had dilated to such a degree that the silver of her eyes was but a small ring about two pits of darkness. The pegasus mare was a sight to behold.

Anypony could watch a stallion like the Duke fight and see that he had been taught that above victory sat pride. As all unicorns are instructed at one point or another, victory might be tenuous but pride was a choice. Ponies like Upright would rather starve than be forced to eat like a dog. Ponies like he never bowed their heads to hide or evade. Ponies like he—and like most of the nobility—unwisely deemed themselves mountains, tall and immoveable. When they fought, they never supposed that their opponent might be savvy enough to touch them. They never supposed that there would be a reason to retreat or to be quiet. They fought with flair, letting the world see the grandeur of their might, even if it spelled their own doom.

The warriors of the pegasi race were a different story. Of course, having lived the life that she had, Adagio rarely had the opportunity to observe the ways of their combat. However, from the small bits she had witnessed—a drunken tussle in the street as she went by in her carriage, or their games of leisure in the fields beyond the estate—the distinctions were terrifying. So terrifying, in fact, that she was inclined to remember how their kind moved, what awe-inspiring trickery they were able to perform with their bodies so long as their surroundings allowed. This hinted to their race’s extensive warfaring knowledge as well as their physical disposition toward stealth and agility. In these traditions, Echo Hum was no different from her brethren.

Echo rotated in silence, eyes darting about in the darkness, searching, searching. When she turned Adagio’s way, the Duchess could make out an odd clicking emanating from the depths of the mare’s throat. The clicking held a strange timbre, one that Adagio didn't care to dwell on, knowing that it was but another lethal tool in the mercenary’s belt.

Adagio blinked. Her eyes were only lidded for a moment, but when they again opened, Silent Wing was sitting behind his partner. Where had the stallion come from? Increasingly, these pegasi were becoming spirits in their own right, one menacing black shadow alongside a ghostly white spectre.

The dark one spoke. “That them?” The reverberation of Silent Wing’s voice was strong, loud enough for Adagio to hear him even from where she was hiding.

“One moment,” Echo replied, continuing her odd clicking. Eyes unwavering, at last she sat up tall next to her partner, and nudged her nose in Adagio’s direction. “Over there. Northwest. One moment,” she repeated. A pair of shining wings stretched out in the darkness, gleaming even in the lack of moonlight. In a second, they came crashing together at her front, sending a crack like thunder rippling through the trees. The white mare’s ears now stood at attention, listening, listening.

Adagio’s insides spun about like thread upon a spool. The urge to run increased. Still, even when the winds borne off of Echo’s wings whipped past her face, the noblemare forced these inclinations down. Even when Echo’s ears trained themselves in Prance’s direction, Adagio did not budge. Even when a white wing extended itself out to point, Adagio dared not breathe.

“Yes. I hear inconsistency in the Northwest. Not a rock, not fallen timber, but stationary. They are hiding,” Echo murmured. “Very close. Less than fifty wings.”

Adagio watched Silent Wing nod his head. She blinked away the dryness plaguing her eyes, and when they reopened, the pegasus stallion was gone.

Immediately, the Duchess lamented the misfortune of being born with her distinctive shade of fur. Surely, yellow would stand out amongst all of this shadow. Prance’s color would prove itself no benefit. They had to find a way to move and they had to do it soon. At this point, there was no question as to ‘if’ the mercenaries would root them out, only a matter of when.

The Duchess strained her eyes as far to the side as she could manage. Prance was still there, lying beneath a small bush a short distance away. That was good at least. Perhaps if the both of them managed to remain quiet, there was a chance—some slim chance in Tartarus—that these two creatures built for stealth and accuracy would miss them. A minute passed, and then two. Her nerves began to settle. Maybe Silent Wing had gone further off into the woods. Maybe they might be able to—

Adagio’s thoughts stalled when she caught sight of something strange toward the top of the ravine. There sat a particularly tall elm. Around its trunk twisted and coiled a thing, quite large and the same shade of the surface upon which it crawled. Round the trunk it went, descending in complete silence. Impossible to decipher in the shadow, Adagio thought it some monstrous snake or lizard born out of the deepest, dankest bog of Sardhoof mud—until it sneered, baring its white teeth. That stark ivory was enough to give the curling shadow a form so that Adagio’s mind might define it.

She blinked at Prance, attempting to call his attention with her eyes.

The crawling thing unfurled its dark wings and lifted its dark head. Inset into that lump were two poison green orbs narrowed behind mirthful lids.

‘Do not move!’ Adagio mouthed, remaining stiff as a board. Prance, in his attempt to make out what she was saying, began to lean out from his cover of bramble.

‘No!’ The word was big and round upon the Duchess’ lips. Prance froze on the spot.

Silent Wing’s shadow curled off of the tree trunk and suspended itself in the air just beyond the top of the ridge. If the pegasus had leaned over just slightly, he would have surely spotted the earth stallion’s coat through the shrubbery. The mercenary’s head darted to and fro as he made his way alongside the ruck. Without the hearing strength of his partner, he seemed at a disadvantage. And yet, he still had his naturally keen eyesight.

Looking past the ridge, clear beyond the knight’s body, the dark stallion appeared to spot something of interest. It took a moment for Adagio to realize from where she was laying that a trail of snapped twigs had followed Prance on his way toward the bushes.

The pegasus growled. A wide grin stretched across his maw as he made to fly over the crevice.

Adagio raised a single hoof in a shooing motion, bidding the knight to roll out of sight. Prance, however, was more inclined to act only upon that which he could see. He did not budge, but instead attempted to get a better vantage point. When Silent Wing flew right over his head, the knight changed his mind, deciding to duck instead.

At any moment, the pegasus was going turn around, and then the knight would be done for. Adagio thought quickly. Brushing her mane about her horn to lessen its glow, the Duchess waited until the mercenary had completely turned his back toward the ravine, then levitated a large stone to her side, and flung it off into the darkness of the woods.

Hearing the stone land somewhere in the distance, Silent Wing bounded off at once. His wings propelled him so quickly that his entire form disappeared amongst the evening shadow.

When things were again quiet, Prance instructed Adagio to approach him. “Transport yourself to Sonata. You two must leave,” he murmured.

Adagio grimaced. “Lighthoof, if you ask me to leave you one more time, I—”

A swooping sound in the distance caught Adagio's attention. Stalling her words for a moment, she peeked over the ridge’s edge only to find that Echo Hum had disappeared. Breathing a sigh of relief, the Duchess turned to face the knight again. Her frown picked up where it had left off. “Please, Lighthoof. The least you could do is show some small desire to remain by my side,” she moaned.

“Adagio, I am more concerned with keeping you unharmed, keeping you free, keeping Sonata alive,” Prance hissed, looking quite irritated. Raising his head, he searched around for any trace of the warrior duo. Finding none, he threw his foreleg around Adagio and drew her out from the bushes.

“Why are you so very determined to throw your life away?” Adagio hissed as they both began the trek toward Sonata’s bluff.

“Would it not be for good reason?” Prance quipped, looking a little hurt.

“Not good enough, Lighthoof.”

This answer stunned the knight into silence.

“Can you not consider for once that I might feel for you what you do for me?” Adagio asked. “What of me do you suppose could thrive if you are gone away?”

“The heart is stronger than you know, Gio. It heals. Maybe not without scars, but it heals,” Prance replied quietly, avoiding her gaze.

All the Duchess could afford him was a furious huff.

They were getting close. The purple and crimson was returning to the sky. The acrid smell of burning wood again punctured through the night air. Upon those noxious fumes, a sweetness pervaded. It was barely noticeable at first, a whisper among the leaves. Then as the cliff came into view in the distance—Sonata’s leering silhouette still set atop its precipice—the sweetness pierced through. It was a single golden thread, low, undulating, something to call out to one’s soul.

Sonata was humming a song.

The tune struck the Duchess as familiar. She was consumed by the feeling that she’d sung it many times before, like what she had experienced when she and the farm mare chanted together in the dark of her cottage. Instead of dwelling on the matter, she turned to look at Prance.

The stallion walked in silence. His ears twitched whilst his glazed eyes were planted squarely upon the singing blue mare in the beyond.

“Lighthoof? Are you well?” Adagio whispered, reaching out to tap him upon the shoulder.

The knight started, and made a great to-do about shaking the haze out of his head. He looked at Adagio, bewildered. “W… what did you say?” he asked.

Adagio blinked and searched the knight for any sign of injury. “I asked if you are well. You were behaving strangely.”

“Do you hear that? That song she is singing?” he interjected, turning his head toward the cliff again.

One of his hooves took far too loud of a step.

Adagio winced. Her eyes darted about warily. “Yes. Yes, I hear it. Lighthoof, you must be quiet.”

“It is quite beautiful isn’t it?” Prance added, a bit louder this time. He took another boisterous step.

“Lighthoof, please! We shall be caught!” Adagio hissed, knocking him in the shoulder with her hoof.

“I wish to hear more,” Prance said, his eyes wide. He lumbered through the leaves, determined to get to Sonata, and paying no heed to how much noise he made while doing so.

The leaves of the canopy crackled about them.

“What are you on about?” Adagio squeaked in a panic, pulling at his tail. She dared not light up her horn again to stop him with magic. “It is but a song. Our lives are in danger! Let us first see that nopony is here. Then let us collect the farm filly and leave!”

A gust of wind without a source ruffled the fur upon their backs.

Prance let off a chuckle, one far too loud to be acceptable. Passing the Duchess a smug smile, he shook his head. “Catch us? Gio, dear, we saw those two pegasi fly off into the woods. They are probably too far away to hear…” The stallion turned again toward his front and froze. His blood turned to ice.

Two emerald green orbs were hovering just before his face.

“Too far away to what now?” Silent Wing growled, his head hanging upside down in the air before them.

Before Prance had a chance to react, Wing’s forehead went smashing into his muzzle.

“No!” Adagio screamed, instinctively retreating away from the scene. Her back bumped into something cold and sturdy. Spinning about, she found herself gazing into Echo Hum’s eyes.

Rebounding off of the mare’s armor, Adagio bowed her head to direct her magic. A clap of thunder and a sudden gust of wind knocked her off of her hooves, slamming her back into a tree.

With the world still swirling, she charged her horn again and took aim. A streak of blazing ruby tore an arc about her. She hoped that it would stave the pegasi off for just a moment longer, just until she could clear her head. “Lighthoof?” she called out into the spinning madness. Instead of a reply, something gripped her on the tail and tugged hard. Thinking the culprit to be Silent Wing, she beat her hooves against its broad chest, trying to get away. Her horn charged itself again. “Get your hooves off of me, you disgusting—”

“Gio!” Prance yelled, setting her upright upon her hooves, and nudging her with his hind leg. “Fetch Sonata! Quickly! I shall hold them off!”

Adagio wanted to protest as usual. She wanted to tell Prance that he stood little chance against such a lethal pair. But in that moment, her own good sense also told her that there simply was no time. Turning about she bounded off toward the light in the distance.

Echo, keen on repaying the one who had damaged what she considered to be a perfect creation—herself—moved to dart off behind the Duchess. Instead, she slammed headfirst into a broad white chest and careened into the ground.

Though bandaged and tired, Prance loomed over her, baring the metal of his dagger in warning. “I shan’t allow you to pass,” he panted, watching as Silent Wing landed a short distance away.

The mare scoffed, looking Prance over and clearly judging him unworthy. “You shan’t allow me to pass?” she spat, rising to her hooves. “You, earth stallion, are just as useless as your pathetic blue friend.” She nudged her chin in Sonata Dusk’s direction, bidding her partner forward.

As Silent Wing spread his wings and took flight, Prance lunged up and out. Managing to catch Silent upon the wing with his teeth, Prance tore him out of the air.

The dark stallion spiraled before hitting the ground. At first, he appeared shocked by the knight’s ability before he broke out into raucous laughter. “I like this one, Hum! There may be a bit of fight in him, yet!” he chortled, shaking out his ruffled feathers.

Hum, equally as intrigued, passed Prance a sly grin. “Well, then. I have reconsidered you, Sir Lighthoof, and I suppose that since you’ve asked me so very politely for a dance, that I should oblige you.”

Prance scoffed at her, his cheeky grin cutting into the mare’s overconfidence like a knife. “Come on then and let's have a go, Echo,” he goaded her on. “I'll teach you a step or two. The both of you even!”

“Oh, I do hope so, Sir Lighthoof,” the white mare chuckled.

Prance watched the pair’s wings expand and their pinning pupils retract. As the two spectres loomed up from the shadows to devour him, the knight could not sink the sudden feeling that opting to fight them alone had been a rather unwise decision. He judged his worries well founded when the pair suddenly shot upward into the darkness and disappeared.

Things remained quiet for a beat. Then something cracked in the air above Prance’s head. The knight assumed it to be the sound of pegasi hooves moving across tree branches until a blinding white light flashed briefly before his eyes.

Prance didn’t realize what he had witnessed until the strip of lightning nicked at his hooves. Fortunately, he managed to dodge the streak as it came crashing down into the ground, leaving a smoking hole in its wake.

Another crack, another strike, and on it went with the knight trying his best to spot the pegasi firing at him from up above. One step. Then another. Stars were flashing before his eyes.

When his shoulder bumped into a tree, it occurred to the stallion that he had just been corralled. He slashed blindly at the empty space before him, hoping this maneuver would suffice as a defense until his vision had returned.

“Very sloppy, knight,” Echo Hum’s voice clucked from somewhere up above. “You should know better than to expend your energy so freely in battle. Is that what Bullion’s stallions have taught you?”

“Get down here, you harpy! Fight me with some dignity! Face-to-face!” Prance bellowed, shaking the last of the flashes out of his vision. He searched around for any hint of white fur up above.

“Is that truly what you want?” Echo tittered. “You should be careful what you wish for, you know.”

“Face me, you hideous wench!” Prance cried. He smiled, raising his blade toward the sky, and hoping his words would get a rise out of the mare.

“Well!” Echo huffed. Her tone had taken on a rather severe edge. “I suppose lacking manners in a lady’s presence is reason enough to come down there and teach you a lesson.”

“You are no lady, Miss!” Prance quipped, readying himself for her attack. Never did he notice the edge of Silent Wing's silver dagger inching its way around from behind the tree to catch him upon the leg.

The knight heard the pegasus inhale sharply, preparing to slice him. Thinking quickly, he slammed himself back onto the tree’s trunk with all of his might, making sure to crack the thing upon impact. Silent dodged out of the way just as the tree came crashing down.

Too preoccupied with trying not to be crushed, the pegasus nearly missed the glint of Prance’s dagger descending upon the space right between his eyes. Far too swift, Silent flapped his great wings, and blew the earth stallion back a few paces. Holding steady, Prance charged the pegasus again, determined to get a decent strike before the scoundrel disappeared back up into the shadows.

Giving one great leap, Prance caught the pegasus by the tail just as he was poised to bolt upward. Pulling with all of his might, the knight dragged him back down. With a wrench of his neck, he throttled Silent Wing against the rocky earth.

Slashing his knife, the pegasus cut the edge of his tail free from Prance’s teeth. Slashing again, he caught the knight upon the cheek. Bringing his dark wings forward, he smashed their bones into either side of Prance’s skull.

The earth stallion reeled and fell. Slashing his blade, he skittered away across dead leaves and dirt.

“Well done, hero!” Silent Wing chuckled, spitting out a crimson glob. “Managed to draw some blood that time. A’least you're a fast learner, ey?”

“Is this how you two fight? Flying away to the shadows the moment you're caught?” Prance panted, scrambling to his hooves.

“You sound a bit jealous, friend. But, if you’re lookin’ for a few more bruises...” Silent Wing sneered, his wings suddenly snapping themselves firmly against his sides. Grabbing the strap of his dagger between his teeth, he pulled it tight, and bore down upon his forelegs, “Well, by all means, don't let these wings stop you.”

Seeing his opportunity, Prance bore down as well. Wing remained utterly composed. Despite his bruises, he did not tremble. The sight of the stoic pegasus appeared wholly unnatural.

The knight sneered. It was clear that this pegasus underestimated him. Yet, he was thankful; there was no situation in which being misjudged was not a blessing. And as his eyes trailed down toward a long, thick branch that lay beside the pegasus’ hooves, Prance could not help but rejoice in his own good fortune.

Bounding forward, he feigned a strike to the pegasus’ face. When Silent lunged to block, the earth stallion rolled off to his side, pulled up the edge of the large branch between his teeth, and swung it straight into Silent Wing’s back. The mercenary went crashing into the ground.

As soon as the pegasus turned about, Prance was upon him, all daggers and hooves. Silent Wing blocked each slash with startling precision, his eyes following Prance’s blade blow for blow.

Finding that he could not match such speed, the white knight raised his hind leg and rammed his hoof into the dark stallion’s stomach. Silent Wing faltered, sputtering up dust.

Seeing his opportunity, Prance slashed once and caught Wing on the cheek, again and he caught him upon the jaw. By the third slash, the pegasus’ wings had shot up to enclose his body within a feathered shield. This was of no consequence to the knight. He continued to slash until he had managed to separate a few feathers and a small puddle’s worth of blood from the mercenary.

At last, the pegasus’ wings shot outward to fling Lighthoof away. The knight hit a tree so hard that its trunk caved in about the middle, and when he rose again, a rip of fresh pain had settled about his spine. Not yet recovered from his daze, Prance cried out in shock when a gust of wind blew him backward again. This time, he landed onto shards of cracked trunk hard enough to draw blood.

Before he could rise again, another gust of wind followed, then another. Managing to open his eyes only once, he caught sight of the dark stallion pummeling him with gales borne of his wings.

When he finally careened into the face of an enormous boulder, Prance imagined his body had taken more than enough punishment. Scrambling around toward the granite mound’s rear, he just barely missed being blown away again.

Instead, a light breeze grazed against his aching back, and before he could turn around, another strong gust of wind again blew him off of his legs. It sent him tumbling head over hoof into the gigantic stone.

Remembering the wisdom in his father’s teachings about never staying still if he could help it, Prance ducked low just in time to miss Echo Hum’s dagger slashing at the place where his head should be. Hoofing her away as hard as he could, the knight ran to the boulder’s other side. By the time he got there, Echo was already floating to the ground before him, her expanded wings shimmering.

Rubbing a hoof across her sore belly, the mare did not wince in pain, but instead smiled with glee. “That's the spirit, Sir Lighthoof,” she growled, shaking out her injured right wing, and readying her stance. “For a moment, I pegged you as a chivalrous stallion.”

“A testament to the sharpness of your intellect, I suppose,” Prance quipped, his gaze darting about. He could no longer spot Silent Wing. The dark stallion had probably gotten away whilst his partner had been fluttering those enormous, shining ornaments of hers. “And where is your companion?”

Echo smiled as she paced about. “Oh, don't worry yourself with him, Sir Lighthoof. He is just fine. And I am so much more pleasing to the eye.”

A familiar clicking sound pierced the air. Prance recalled Echo emanating the same noise earlier on in the evening. Figuring he should not give her the opportunity to find whatever it was she was searching for, the knight rushed forward. The curve of his blade was aimed at her already injured wing.

Echo didn't budge, a factor the knight found strange. Instead, she expanded before his very eyes, her wings fanning out to full length at her back. Even the scruff about her neck stood on end. Inhaling deeply just as Prance’s dagger was set to strike, she gave a great heave, and swept her wings forward.

The swoop of wind that her wings sent barreling into the woods was powerful; Prance could not fathom why the mercenary had hesitated to aim such a fine gust directly at him. As his fitted foreleg continued forward, the powerful bones of the mare’s wings came together to catch him just about the fetlock. There they struck him hard, bruising him. Faltering for just a moment, Prance reared up onto his hind legs, preparing to strike Echo with the opposite hoof.

A crack of thunder boomed somewhere far behind him. He realized only after he had foolishly turned to look, that the sound had been the winds borne off of Echo’s wings reverberating in the deep of the Sardhoof. A fine distraction, indeed.

Prance ducked as he faced her, knowing that the mare would strike with her blade as his head was turning. The dagger met with his forehead. Had his reflexes not been as honed as they were, he would have probably lost a great deal of his flesh.

Forcing his aching foreleg forward, he slashed a vertical line up the mare’s belly, one she just barely managed to dodge. As she attempted to fly herself out of reach, Prance made a dive, caught her by the tail, and rammed her into the earth. Coming down with his blade, he forced the mare into blocking upward.

At long last, he had her.

A pegasus mare’s strength was no match for his own, and for the first time that night, he witnessed a glint of apprehension in Echo Hum’s eye. “What is the matter, Echo darling? I thought you wanted to dance,” he joked pressing her down toward the ground. The knight briefly glanced over his shoulder, wary of Silent Wing. He saw nothing.

“What are you looking for, knight? Afraid of something?” Echo hissed. Her voice wavered despite the sneer she was wearing. Stretching out her wings, she braced their bones into the ground for support. Now as Prance pressed into her from above, her powerful appendages pushed back from below.

Those damned wings. There was much to be said for the might of a pegasus’ wings. Certainly, one could expect such brawn from appendages that birthed thunder and twisters upon their deceptively graceful feathers. Prance knew he would have to do something about them immediately, especially if he could not account for her partner’s whereabouts.

Remembering the mare's injured appendage, the knight shifted his weight so that he bore down upon her right side. He smiled when her eyes went wide and he felt her tremble under his weight. “What was that you were saying?” he spat, pressing down against her dagger until she lay on her side, one wing lying folded beneath her, the other straining uselessly for balance. At last, her strong wing went flailing out from under her. Unable to withstand the force, she fell down onto her back.

Prance’s dagger came up beneath Echo’s chin whilst the mare’s fitted foreleg lay pressed against her own throat. It seemed her only options now were to either be cut or to suffocate.

“You would kill me this way?” she hissed, wide-eyed, stunned.

Prance gave her one good shove onto her injured wing, glad to hear her yelp in pain. “Come now. You aren't going to beg for mercy are you?” he said.

Echo bit her lip. Her silver eyes glistened. “You underestimate me, knight. But I forgive this. Perhaps I have done the same to you. I would have never pegged you as one to kill up close this way.” She smiled cruelly. “A white coat stained with blood is exceptionally disturbing to look upon. You know it as well as I. Wouldn't want your Duchess to see you like thaaa…” The mare gagged against her own foreleg as Prance bore down upon her again.

As the edge of the knight’s dagger hooked itself about the mare’s throat, a gust of wind picked up around him. Having learned his lesson in this regard, he glanced about quickly on the lookout for Silent Wing. Not spotting him just yet, Prance resigned himself to working quickly. Lowering his head, he bit Echo about the fetlock, and tore her defending foreleg away. Pinning the appendage down with his free hoof, at last he pressed his blade against her bare throat. “Your words are filled with fear,” he said to her quite plainly, watching her free wing flap about wildly at her side. “Stop that flapping,” he commanded.

“Then do not hesitate, Sir Lighthoof,” Echo quipped. The boldness of her words did not mesh with the shuddering of her brow. “Do what a warrior must. We shall see who the fearful pony is.” Her wing continued to flail. Again, the wind about them increased.

“I said stop that blasted flapping!” Prance bellowed again. The strong gusts of air were making him nervous.

“You are hesitating, knight!” Echo spat. “Now, who is the fearful one?”

Prance could not say that she was completely wrong. Despite his being a warrior, he wasn't exactly the type of warrior to kill a mare in cold blood, no matter how vile or vicious said mare might have been. This was one distinction of the sky warriors that many a land soldier had fallen victim to—the deception of a fair face.

Prance inhaled and exhaled again and again, trying to work up the gall for the deed.

“You had better do it now,” Echo pressed. “Or I swear if you let me free again, I shan't rest until at least one of those beloved mares of yours is dead.”

That seemed impetus enough.

Hatred filled him up. Steeling himself, Prance set his jaw and squared his shoulders. The wind now nipped at his mane. Inhaling deeply he moved to bear down upon his blade and Echo Hum’s throat.

Something whipped past him, catching him on the shoulder and knocking his foreleg out of place. The tip of his blade scratched the dirt just to the side of Echo’s head, leaving a small nick upon her neck.

There was a pause. The mare looked up at him, and he at her.

She smiled. Her good wing stopped its flapping and folded itself about Prance’s back. “I warned you didn’t I? Now they shall die all for your cowardice,” she hissed, wrenching her wing to the side, and tossing Prance off with it.

Furious with himself, the knight was back on his hooves in an instant. He barreled toward the mare where she was attempting to stand when a grey blur darted around her back and curved in the air. Ducking out of the way, Prance narrowly missed the glinting edge of a blade zipping past.

When the grey blur disappeared, and Prance had turned to rush Echo again, he was enraged to find her gone. “Damn!” he cried, pounding a hoof into the earth.

The wind had picked up again, rustling dead leaves into his eyes. He had to find cover.

Whilst trying to run, Prance’s body hit something that he could not see, an invisible wave that pulled him back toward where he’d started. What was it? Unicorn magic?

A grey blur zipped past, and then white. Looking to his rear, Prance could see them circling around again. Leaves floated upward in clumps and began to spin themselves into an enormous funnel about him. Then, at last, he understood what the mercenaries were doing; after all, only two pegasi were required to stoke up a whirlwind.

Pushing against the compressed air on either of his sides, Prance found that he was no match for its power. The pegasi had trapped him within an invisible cage, and now he had to figure a way out before it was too late.

A white streak zipped past his side. Something sharp sliced him upon the shoulder. Prance flinched, and retreated. A black blur cut him upon his back soon after. A gash appeared upon his belly, then another upon his side. The mercenaries were narrowing the whirlwind with him at its center, and Prance knew that in a moment, he would be but shredded ribbons.

Thinking quickly, he raised his dagger up and out, hoping to catch one of them upon its edge as they revolved around him. It was easily knocked out of the way by a menace he could not see.

Another scratch upon his ear, then his neck. This time they were deep. This time they dripped blood. The old bandages about his shoulder were cut away.

He bucked into the whirlwind. All he needed was to tag one of them; just once so he could disturb their gale long enough to escape it. But the growing pain of his wounds were beginning to make his head spin. He had been cut too many times.

A gash upon his right hind leg sent the knight crashing to his haunches. The leaves swirled about, almost blinding him. When a sharp slash caught him upon his side, he bowed forward into the dirt.

He cursed himself for having hesitated with Echo. Her next strike would surely render him unconscious. The wretched pair would then fly off to end Sonata, capture Adagio, and then deliver them all unto the Duke. After everything that had happened, after his grandiose promises of freedom, and after how hard so many ponies had fought to help them escape, in that most pivotal of moments, Prance had let them all down.

His head was swimming. In his haze, he began to hallucinate. A sound now tickled his ears. Faint at first, it grew louder by the second until it sounded like an injured creature's lament—low, soft, repetitive. He tried to shake the noise out of his head lest it consume him. No success. The wavering hum grabbed hold of the edges of his mind and tugged.

Run, rabbit, run...

The lamenting moan upon the wind had sprouted words, both gentle and compelling. Prance felt his vision beginning to blur, his mind beginning to leave him. Surely, he could not defeat the pegasus pair in this state, but in that moment, he no longer cared.

Through shaded wood and glen…

The winds about him lost their intensity. The next scratch he received upon his thigh was light, disheartened.

Get away, my pet, get away…

“Get… away...” the knight found himself repeating. The words echoed themselves back to him, borne off of another stallion’s lips—Silent Wing’s lips.

“What are you doing, you fool?” Echo Hum hissed. Her voice came from all sides.

The whirlwind slowed down to a halt. As leaves fell to a rest all around him, Prance watched the pegasus stallion descend with them.

His enraged and befuddled partner continued her rounds. “Wing, what do you think you are doing? Get your sorry arse back in the air!” She didn't seem to notice the glazed look that now shrouded the stallion’s face.

Or you shan’t pass this way again…

“You shan’t pass this way again,” Silent Wing slurred. His eyelids drooped as did his wings.

In a second, Echo had descended to stand before her partner. “We had him, you idiot!” she screamed, knocking him furiously about the head. “What in Tartarus is this about?” Receiving no response, she lifted the stallion’s chin so that she might have a gander at his face. The glazed look in his eye startled her. “What… what is this? Is he poisoned?” she hissed, shaking him about the shoulders. When the mare received no response, she turned to face Prance, enraged. “Ugh! I don't need you anyway, you great sack. I'll drag the knight back to the estate myself!”

For master fox shall catch you,
The grinning fox shall catch you…

“The grinning fox shall catch you,” Silent Wing repeated in tandem with the nightsong.

Echo gave him one last shove to the cranium for his trouble. She stretched out her wings, and marched in Prance’s direction.

The stallion sat in a daze, reeling in a bloody, tired heap. Thank Celestia for his training. Such injuries would have surely downed a lesser warrior.

In a moment, the mare was upon him, pressing her dagger against his throat, sneering wickedly. “I am so very tired of you and your tricks,” she spat. A crunching of leaves came from behind her. She did not think to turn around. “I no longer care whether we lose our compensation or not. I consider it a fair price for the pleasure of ending you,” she said pushing upon her dagger.

And that shall be your end...

“That shall be your end,” came a deep voice directly behind Echo’s shoulder. Its owner was so close, that his breath upset the strands of mane upon her neck.

Startled, the mare spun about to see Silent Wing standing right behind her, his poison-hued eyes burning into her own. She grimaced in confusion. “Wh… what are you—”

A dagger slashed her upon her neck. Stumbling backward, she rolled over Prance, and onto the ground. Bewildered, she gazed at her partner who now advanced upon her. “Have you gone mad, you silly stallion?” she screeched, feeling for her fresh wound.

“Run, rabbit, run…” Silent Wing continued. His dagger raised and his wings expanded. He darted toward the mare at full speed.

Dodging out of the way, Echo scrambled to her hooves, completely dumbfounded. Her partner crashed face first into the large boulder at her side. Recognizing the words he was repeating as the same words of Sonata’s nightsong, the mare frantically began stomping her hooves into the earth, trying to drown out its sound. But the soil was far too soft. “Silent Wing! Wake up, you great fool!” she called. The apprehension in her voice was clear, especially when the stallion turned to face her again.

His bruised face now sported a bloodied muzzle which he did not seem to notice at all. “Through shaded wood and glen…” he sneered, his eyes honing themselves upon his partner.

Seeing this, Echo raised her own dagger in defense, spread her wings, and began a slow retreat. “You are not of sound mind, Wing. Now put that dagger down before you do something you shall surely regr—”

“You know, Hum, I'm feeling rather inspired this evening. Not quite certain why,” Silent Wing growled as he advanced. There was a strange quality to his voice, as if it belonged to a wooden puppet that had just recently been granted consciousness. “But bein’ one to trust his gut, I figure I should tell you… You can be quite the nutcracker, you know, love? Gets a bit tiring. Wears on me nerves.” The stallion’s great wings flapped forward. The breeze they made shook Echo off balance.

Go as fast as you can...

“Stop that! We have a mission! The earth stallion is still conscious. He will get away!” the white mare spat, directing a hoof toward Prance who was just now getting to his hooves.

The world had gone mad. A nightsong far too enticing, far too powerful beckoned Prance away. Once—it felt like a thousand years ago—those pegasi had meant a great deal to him. Once, he had despised them. Now, half consumed by beautiful melodies, he could not for the life of him remember why. Nor did he care to decipher the reasons why Silent Wing had chosen this moment out of all moments to turn upon his cohort.

He watched on coldly as the pegasus stallion flapped his wings, knocking Echo onto her rear. The mare was screaming and raging, all words that Prance could barely hear.

Disappear, my love, disappear...

The knight watched Echo stumble back up to her hooves. She tried to flap her wings to blow Silent Wing away in retaliation, but she looked spent. Her wings looked like they hurt.

Again, Silent Wing clapped his wings together so forcefully that it lifted the mare off of her hooves and sent her careening straight into the trunk of a hefty tree. Prance noted that this time, when she tried to stand, she stumbled again and again. Her wings could only carry her a few flaps before she came crashing down to the ground. The knight turned his head away to face the light of the cliff in the distance.

Do not pass this way again...

Other noises swirled about the mare’s screaming—sounds of hooves upon bone and metal upon metal. It all melded together into a ball of audial gray, one which the white knight was quick to toss away without a care.

For master wolf shall catch you…
The wicked wolf shall catch you...

The last that Prance could recall of the pegasi before limping off into the night was the panicked expression upon Echo’s face as Silent Wing loomed over her exhausted and trembling frame.

And that shall be your end.

A gust of wind tugged at the fur upon Prance’s neck as he stumbled through the woods. Every step of the way, he fought off the urge to sit, to rest, to allow himself to be fully consumed by the refrain that surrounded him. His ears flicked the melody away. There was a hint of a smile upon his face, despite his pain. He felt comforted by the undulating waves of music, by Sonata’s distinctly powerful voice.

His legs stumbled. Wiping the excess dirt and sweat from his face, he took a moment to catch his breath and to think about the dear friend that now consumed a rather large portion of his mind.

What exactly had happened to Sonata?

When he’d seen her up there upon that cliff, something had changed. The sweet, playful mare he had always known her to be was gone, replaced by something else, something that drew out terror and planted an endless melody in its place.

In his haze, Prance recalled the familiarity of the feeling Sonata inspired within him. It was exactly how he felt whenever Adagio sang with all of her heart. These two unearthly singers who commanded their audiences with beautiful melodies—had there been a connection between them?

Prance dared not dwell on these thoughts for too long, fearing that they might lead to some unpleasant realization. Instead, he looked toward the red sky in the distance. There he could just make out two silhouettes.
_____

A peace prevailed, the likes of which Adagio Dazzle had never known. Every note, every refrain that escaped her companion continued to bite into her in the sweetest way, tugging at her heart, goading her to join in.

In Sonata’s mane, in her ghostly red eyes, in her beautiful song, the Duchess saw all the parts of herself that had been missing. Sonata had said that she had been born of the sea, singing a haunting melody she could not remember the words for. Sonata had been given the gift of song just as Adagio had. Sonata’s song compelled others, just as Adagio’s did, and when the two of them came together—a meeting fated, no doubt—their songs had melded and twisted and folded into one gorgeous sound.

Looking upon the dark thing that now sat before her, Adagio Dazzle wondered if this was the song magic that she had been attempting to decipher all these years. This terrifying creature—was she one of them, too?

As if hearing Adagio’s thoughts, Sonata stopped her singing, and sat there, staring off into the forest with her all-seeing eyes. After a moment, her head turned to face the Duchess. The noblemare recoiled.

Sonata smiled at her. “I know why you are afraid,” she said, every one of her words resounding like a bell. “You are afraid because you are remembering.”

Adagio frowned, more out of defensiveness than denial. For all she knew, the earth mare was right. “And what am I remembering?” she asked. “What… what are you?”

The blue mare giggled. It was curious how the melody that surrounded her never faded, even when her lips were sealed shut into that silly grin of hers. “I am the same thing that lives within you, silly. That pretty, little, fuzzy shell of yours is beginning to crack open, just like mine. It is no cause for alarm,” she snickered, her crimson eyes flashing.

Apparently, the blue mare could detect Adagio’s confusion. A moment later, her jovial smile faded into a wistful pout. “Please wake up soon, Adagio. I miss you, and I wish to go home. I dislike this place, and I fear I am worse off for having been here.”

Part of Adagio felt like laughing at this madmare. The other half had been whisked away to a time and place she couldn’t quite remember, but missed with a terrible passion. Shades of blue—the ones she had forgotten since foalhood, the ones she had replaced with silk and sapphires—rushed forward to drown her. Suddenly, what swirled about her was not the acrid smell of a poor pony’s beloved possessions going up in smoke, but the scent of sand and surf and…

“Home,” Adagio croaked, not knowing why she had said it. She shook a powerful nostalgic haze out of her head, and when she looked again upon Sonata, the earth mare was staring off into the woods. Her song still echoed in the ether around them as she lifted her foreleg and pointed. When Adagio followed the direction of her hoof with her eyes, at the end of its trail was a bloodied and dazed lump, tripping and stumbling through the forest—Lighthoof.

“He is spared,” Sonata said plainly, “because I know you fancy his company. But keep him away or he shall have no choice but to obey me.”

Adagio felt her heart leap up into her throat. “By Celestia! Lighthoof are you alright?” she screamed, rushing forward to the knight’s aid just as he fell onto his haunches. Using her magic, she pulled him into the clearing and lifted the excess grime from his fur.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Prance coughed, swatting at the noblemare’s magic. He appeared equally as panicked, almost in a rush. “We must leave,” he said.

“Those mercenaries. What happened to them?” Adagio asked, gazing off into the woods.

“It no longer matters, Adagio,” the white stallion groaned, attempting to stand. “We must collect Sonata and leave. Now!”

It was then that Adagio remembered Sonata’s warning. “Wait, you cannot! Stay away, Lighthoof!” she warned him. “You cannot whilst she sings.”

Not caring to decipher the look of disappointment he was now wearing, Adagio turned about to face Sonata. “Miss Sonata, whatever it is you are doing must stop! Come here and I shall take us all away!”

“No,” Sonata replied plainly, the song growing louder in the air about her. “I shan’t leave until I am finished.”

“What are you on about, Sonata?” Prance bellowed, shaking the melodic residue out of his ears once more. “There is nothing left for you here!”

Adagio and Prance recoiled when they noticed a distinct scowl carve itself across the earth mare’s face. Her once burning eyes now smouldered. “Those two, foul beasts. I shall leave only after I am through with them,” she hissed, ignoring the bewildered stares she received in return. The sound of rustling leaves and cracking branches emanated from the woods. Sonata smiled. “Just wait and see. You shall enjoy it.”

The crackling sound in the Sardhoof grew louder, more rushed and chaotic. With this din came the sound of clashing metal and enough frantic screaming to unsettle the soul. As the small collection of ponies continued to stare into the woods, out from the darkness shot a streak of white. It arched in the air, cursing loudly, then hit the ground a short distance away.

A heap of bloodied feathers and half-destroyed armor, Echo Hum strained to stand, and began a frantic search about the clearing. Her eyes were wide, desperate. “Where is she? Where is that little witch?” she rasped, turning in dazed circles. When she caught her bearings, her gaze finally planted itself upon Sonata. “Witch!” the pegasus screamed, limping forward and dragging one of her now bloodied wings behind her. “You deceptive, little shit! I'll rip you apart!” She pulled a dagger from her remaining good wing and clutched it between her teeth. A trail of white feathers followed her on her trek toward the edge of the bluff. Her right wing shivered and twitched as she went.

It was only after the light of the cottage fire had fallen upon the pegasus that Adagio realized her wing bones had been broken. Jutting through the base of the appendage was something sharp and covered with red. The Duchess dared not stare long enough to decipher what it was. “Don't you touch her!” she bellowed, bowing her head and letting off a spark of magic. A ruby red dome of protection flickered around Sonata’s form just as Echo lunged forward, her dagger aimed at the earth mare’s neck.

She and the weapon ricocheted off of Adagio’s spell and into the dirt. Screaming in frustration, Echo dropped the useless dagger, and reared up onto her hind legs. Scraping and pounding at the magic dome, her fury was only met with a mischievous blue grin.

“Your leg doesn’t look very good. You had better get away before he finds you again,” the earth mare hissed, her reddened eyes sparking. Even as she spoke, the wind began to pick up.

“Through shaded wood and glen. Get away, my pet, get away…” a stallion’s voice called through the sound of crashing branches.

Desperate, the white pegasus turned about to take a look at her surroundings, searching for anything that could be used to her advantage. Spotting the discarded lengths of chain she had used to bind the knight and Duchess, she trekked off in their direction. Snatching one length up into her teeth, and tossing the other across her back, the mare headed back toward the clearing.

Out of the darkness zipped a blinding shadow. It streaked through the air faster than the eye could follow, and careened itself into Echo’s side. The force sent her rolling toward the edge of the cliff. Scrambling up to her trembling hooves, she now glared into the eyes of Silent Wing.

The dark stallion’s wings spread menacingly. “No use in running, love,” he sneered, taking a step forward. His dagger gleamed upon his foreleg. “Wasn’t it you what said I could catch anything?”

“Come on then, you daft bastard!” Echo screamed, snatching the chain up between her teeth.

Or you shan’t pass this way again…

Sonata sang on, watching the debacle unfold with disturbing glee.

Without hesitation, Silent Wing charged, his fitted foreleg outstretched, aimed for Echo’s head. Echo held her ground. At the last possible moment—when a glint of silver was a feather’s length from her face—she swung her neck around, and whipped the chain. Its edge flew through the air, wrapping neatly about Silent Wing’s foreleg. With one great tug, the mare brought the appendage down.

Knowing she only had a moment with which to act, Echo stood upon the chain, bore up onto her hind legs, and crashed her hooves into Silent Wing’s snout, again and again, intent on knocking the stallion out cold. Instead, she only managed to draw out more of his blood and ire.

Having far too many good limbs to work with by comparison, Silent raised his wings into the air, drew them up, and blew Echo away from him with one powerful stroke. The mare nearly tumbled away off the edge of the cliff. If it wasn't for her strong right foreleg, she would have probably done so.

By the time Echo had settled onto solid ground once more, Silent was upon her. Nipping her by the tail he swung her about and sent her crashing into the ground, screaming in pain.

Sonata’s song grew louder as the two pegasi tussled toward the edge of the precipice.

Master fox shall catch you...

“Master fox shall catch you,” Silent Wing muttered, bearing down upon his fallen partner.

Ever the true warrior, Echo did not look upon him in fear, but with burning resentment. Even when the stallion took her one good wing in his teeth and extended it out to its full length, she did not whimper or plead.

“I've always fancied your wings. They’re the prettiest I've ever seen. Did you know that?” the pegasus stallion inquired, arching a brow. His wicked grin grew wider. “‘Course you did. They are your pride and joy, aren’t they? I can tell what with the way you slobber all over them every chance you get.” Padding around in her feathers, Silent Wing froze when his hoof touched something long and stiff. “Quite a distraction, though. Imagine all of the training you could’ve done had you not been so preoccupied with these stupid ornaments. Perhaps you wouldn't now find yourself in your current predicament, ey, Hummy?”

The stallion’s grin had grown devious beyond measure. Both of his hooves now rested upon the base of Echo’s shining wing. He looked into the mare’s eyes, hungry for any sign of fear.

Echo trembled. Biting her lip to steady her nerves, she then spat upward into Silent Wing’s face. The stoicism in his demeanor seemed to bruise her deeply. For once, the mare’s brow softened upon realizing the extent of her partner’s betrayal. She took a deep breath. “You stupid—”

She hadn't the chance to finish. Her tortured screams ripped through the night air along with the sound of cracking bone.

At first, Adagio and Prance both turned away, unable to stomach the sight of such cruelty. Their sights were again drawn toward the bluff only when they heard the most delighted of giggles escaping Sonata’s throat.

There the blue mare sat, wearing a glowing smile as she looked down upon the feathered pair. The sight of her behaving this way was unnatural, sickening.

“Sonata! That is enough!” Prance called out to her, attempting to yell above the horrible din
of Echo Hum’s wailing. “Stop this!”

The grinning fox shall catch you...

She sang on, delighting in the sound of Silent Wing obediently repeating after her. Another crack of bone, another peal of screams, another playful giggle.

Prance had had enough. He could not bear the sight of his sweet Sonata turned into this horrid monster. Edging up to his hooves, he began the arduous task of limping in her direction.

Sensing his approach, the earth mare turned about to stare at him. “Stay back, knight,” she commanded.

Adagio rose to nip and tug upon Prance’s tail. “Lighthoof, the spell is avoiding you. You must stay back,” she insisted.

“I shan’t!” Prance bellowed. “Sonata, what is this thing that you've become? This is not the sweet farm filly that I know! You shall stop this madness, this instant!” And yet, even as he spoke, the knight was compelled to flick Sonata’s song out of his ears.

“You're right! I am not this little, furry husk!” the earth mare shouted. “I am Sonata Dusk! And who are you to suppose that you could command me?” Her aura bulged and bubbled. A growl cut through her haunting melody as Lighthoof continued his advance.

“Lighthoof!” Adagio called to no avail. Thinking quickly, she shot a beam of magic in the knight’s direction, levitated him away from the scene and bounded forward to approach Sonata herself. “Miss Sonata, that is enough! Have pity on this mare!”

Had those words actually left her mouth? Had she really begged for mercy on Echo Hum’s behalf?

“Pity?” Sonata scoffed, eyeing the Duchess over. “These two don’t deserve any pity.” She turned again to look upon the pegasi. Echo Hum lay writhing on the edges of consciousness. Silent Wing loomed above her, still dazed out of his mind.

“This is cruel, Miss Sonata. Can you not see that?” Adagio pressed, recoiling at the bloody sight before her.

“It is no different from any other evil these land folk dispense upon each other. And I am tired of being bullied!” Sonata quipped. There was a pause. A smile spread across her face as she looked toward Silent Wing. “I know what I would very much like to see.”

Adagio, noticing this shift in the earth mare's demeanor, moved forward to shake her by the shoulders. “Miss Sonata, please—”

“Drop her!” Sonata said, her eyes boring into the side of Silent Wing’s head. The ethereal timbre of her voice echoed throughout the sky, loud enough to reach Prance’s ears where he lay on the edge of the woods.

“What?” he called in disbelief.

“Sonata, no!” Adagio screamed in horror as Silent Wing snatched up the fainted white mare by the wings, and dragged her the few steps toward the cliff’s edge. He swung his neck around only once.

Adagio had just begun to stoke up her magic when something struck her across the face. By the time she realized that Sonata had hit her, Silent Wing was already sitting upon precipice—all alone. A sickening ‘crunch’ could be heard far below.

“No!” Adagio wailed, turning away in disgust. Her eyes had filled with tears, and she had not the fortitude to decipher why. “By Celestia! What have you done?”

“Nothing worse than what she would have done to you if given the chance,” Sonata shrugged, turning about to face the Duchess. “Now, fetch those chains so that we might bind him up.”

“You cannot kill this way!” Adagio shouted defiantly, her horn sparking with rage. “Are you just as evil as they?”

Sonata blinked at her. “I do not understand your distress. This is how these creatures live, isn’t it?”

“Sonata...” Adagio lamented, not knowing what else to say.

“Fetch the chains! Bind him up!” Sonata bellowed, quite exasperated. Her ethereal voice echoed through the trees.

Stunned and frightened, Adagio bit her lip, grimaced at the earth mare, and allowed her horn to glow hot. In a moment, the length of chain was suspending itself in the air between them. “Here,” the Duchess spat coldly.

“Go on, then,” Sonata commanded, her possessed face void of all expression.

Taking a moment to shoot the earth mare a defiant glare, Adagio wrenched her neck to the side, levitating the chain in Silent Wing’s direction. The length neatly wound itself about the stallion’s form, and locked upon its ends.

“There. It is done,” Adagio said, frowning. “Are you satisfied? Now might we take our leave?”

Sonata smiled and nodded her head. “Certainly. There is just one last thing...” Turning again to face the stallion, she gave a lazy flick of her hoof. “Jump,” she commanded him. “Join your companion.”

“Sonata!” Adagio screamed.

Before the Duchess could account for what she was doing, she had leapt forward just as Silent Wing hurled himself from the bluff’s edge. Catching the stallion by the tail, she threw herself over right along with him.

“Adagio!” Prance shouted, bounding forward toward the cliff’s edge. The closer to Sonata the stallion ran, the slower his hoofsteps became until, at last, he came to a calm and obedient stop right before her. His deep purple eyes were dim and glazed over. His unhearing ears drooped against his brown mane. The earth mare’s nightsong had consumed him completely.

Sonata looked upon him wearily as if he were the most annoying creature in the entire world. She didn't seem worried in the slightest that Adagio had just followed Silent Wing over the cliff toward his doom. Perhaps she had known better; for, a moment later, there was a bright flash of raspberry light, and once again, there Adagio sat by her side, panting and weary. Silent Wing lay on the ground beside her, staring blankly out into the distance.

The Duchess turned her head at once, shooting a look of pure fury in Sonata’s direction. “Now, you listen to me, you petulant, little imp. I shan’t allow you to harm anypony else on this night. We are finished here! The mercenary is bound, his partner is dead, and now we shall leave!”

Sonata frowned. “No!” she spat, sticking her tongue out, defiantly. “I've waited for so long to have any say at all. This place is horrid, and it is filled with horrid things!” She turned again to face Silent Wing. The song in the ether grew louder, stronger. Even Lighthoof was compelled to bow his back before the mare. His head craned itself down toward the earth.

“And if you try it again, I shall bring him back again!” Adagio cried with a stomp of her hoof.

The younger mare’s laugh bit into her. Increasingly, its sound struck Adagio as both familiar and enraging. The blue mare’s unbridled defiance felt intolerable, something the Duchess felt compelled to quell. An itching and burning began to rise up into the noblemare’s chest.

The blue mare turned to look upon Lighthoof. Her burning red eyes bore into him, delving. Adagio watched on with suspicion as the knight’s ears began to twitch. She gasped in horror when he took one tentative step toward the cliff’s edge. “And what if I send them over one after the other? Ye’ can’t save them both!” Sonata laughed, waving her mane about foalishly.

Something in the air shifted.

Sonata, sensing it, turned to take a look at the noblemare. When she did, she recoiled.

There Adagio sat, planted atop the cliff. The Duchess’ eyes now glowed fiery red. Her face contorted into a snarl of pure rage. Whipping about her in the winds was a strange cacophony of sound, a bracing song to counter Sonata’s, and a deep, guttural growl. “What do you say to me?” she hissed, her voice reverberating about them both. “Say it again, if you dare.”

Sonata’s glowing eyes went wide with apprehension. Her lips sealed themselves shut.

“I didn’t think so,” Adagio growled. “As usual, I see that you cannot be left to your own devices. Who is it that has afforded you the freedom to act so frivolously?”

“Oh, Adagio. I… I was so upset...” Sonata stammered, her ghostly voice bouncing off of Sardhoof wood. “And I missed you terribly, and I was only—”

“Retreat, Sonata!” Adagio barked. Her voice cracked like thunder in the air. Her growl made the earth rumble.

The younger mare flinched and bowed her head in submission. Sniffling, she turned to face Lighthoof’s teetering form. Slowly, her dark melody began to fade. With it went the glow in her eyes. With it, the curse lingering about her two enchanted prisoners was lifted.

The ‘thud’ against her chest jostled Sonata awake. Trying to lift her eyelids felt like trying to hoist two over-stuffed bushels of greens upon her back… except with her eyelids.

“Sonata?” a familiar voice called out to her somewhere in the blurry dim. It sounded male, and was weak and tired.

“Prance?” the earth mare croaked. Her eyes burst to life when she saw her friend, tired and beaten, bracing against her. In a confused panic, she drew him close, and helped him to lie down. In that frightening instant, all of her resentment and anger toward him fell away. “Prance! For dirt’s sake, what’s happened to you?” she cried, shaking at his shoulders. Looking around in a daze, trying desperately to remember all that had transpired, her sights eventually fell upon Adagio. “Your Gr—er—Lady—er—Miss Adagio! Prance is injured! We must find help!”

The noblemare was sitting a few paces away, shaking the fog out of her head and looking quite confused. “I… I realize Miss Sonata,” she groaned, stepping forward to meet them. “Now, come along. Let us leave this place.”

It was then that Sonata noticed the pegasus stallion lying a few steps away in the grass. “Miss Adagio!” the earth mare whispered, as if this prevented the mercenary from hearing her. “How on earth did he get all tied up that way?”

“Do not trouble yourself with it, Miss Sonata,” Adagio sighed, coming to rest by Prance’s side. “We are still alive, and that is what is most important.”

Silent Wing jostled and stirred as his consciousness cleared of its fog. His eyes sparked to life at last, and darted about in confusion. Looking up at the trio of traitors, he growled. “Wh… What have you rats done?” He shook about in his chains, concluding this as unwise when he nearly teetered right off the cliffside. Gazing about the skies with urgency, he whistled into the night air. Whatever reply he was hoping for did not come. He whistled again. Still no response. “Where is she?” he spat.

Adagio and Prance gave the pegasus sickened looks while Sonata attempted to hide behind Adagio’s mane. The Duchess steeled herself, and squared her shoulders. Despite her hatred for these monsters, she could not be settled with leaving the stallion like this in his confusion.

“You wait. Just you wait until I get out of these chains, friend!” Silent snarled, writhing about in his restraints.

“Miss Adagio, please don’t!” Sonata whimpered, clutching onto the Duchess’ tail as she moved to approach the pegasus.

Adagio paid her no mind. “Your name is Wing, is it?” she said, listening to him rage and huff steam, waiting until he had tuckered himself out. “Mister Wing, you should know that you had been cast under a spell until only recently. This is why you might not recall the past few moments. And while, in my opinion, you are of the wickedest and filthiest beasts in this world, I still do not think you deserving enough to be left in your ignorance.”

“What are you on about? Just who do you think you’re talking to you pompous thorn?” the stallion barked, inching forward to nip at Adagio’s hooves.

The Duchess took a wary step back, and waited for Wing to be calm once more. She looked him in the eye, and nudged her chin in the direction of the cliff’s edge. Noting this as a sign to take a look, Silent Wing grimaced and craned his neck over the side of the precipice.

The Duchess turned her gaze away when the stallion’s eyes went wide and glassy with shock. No need to have that look stuck in her memory.

“What…” Silent Wing choked, the air caught in his throat. “You did that to her?… You three spits? Impossible!”

“We didn’t,” Adagio replied sternly. “You did, whilst you were under the earth mare’s spell.”

“What?” Sonata gasped, backing further away to hide behind Prance’s teetering form.

“I don’t believe you!” the bound stallion sneered. His expression looked more bruised than angry.

“You said yourself that we could not do that to Echo Hum alone, and we did not,” Adagio finished.

Silent Wing didn’t move again. He was a statue, an inanimate husk teetering on the edge of either rage or nausea.

The howling wind whipped about the huddled mass upon the bluff. When a few moments had passed, Adagio took a deep, decisive breath. “Come along, you two,” she said, turning about to face her companions.

“Wait…” Silent Wing choked at last, nudging himself forward again. “R… release me. She might… she might still be alive.” It seems even he recognized how foolish this sounded. He could not meet Adagio’s gaze when she turned to face him.

“I trust you can understand why I shan’t do as you ask,” she said flatly.

The two stared at each other for a moment. Silent Wing took a deep breath, trying, without success, to calm his nerves. “I ain’t one to beg, Pretty,” he growled, his searing eyes boring into her.

Adagio turned away. Standing amongst her friends, her horn began to glow. “Hold onto me. I shall take us away from here,” she bid the two earth ponies. Her voice was a little more than a weary groan.

Ever the crafty mercenary, Silent Wing’s eyes darted about, searching for something of use. Catching sight of Prance’s tail lying in the grass, he mustered up the strength for one great heave, hoisted himself the distance between his teeth and the tail, and clamped onto it for all he was worth.

Startled into action, Adagio forgot her teleportation spell, bowed her head, and blasted a beam of ruby light directly into the pegasus’ face. “Let him go!” she cried.

Despite this blow and Prance’s subsequent kicks to the face, the pegasus held fast. “You kill me dead first, you worms!” he hissed through his teeth, shaking himself violently within his bindings. “I ain’t ever letting go! You disappear and I go with ye’, I will!” Another violent shake and the chain about the back of his wings began to separate. Shadowy gray feathers began to peek through.

“He is going to break free, Miss Adagio!” Sonata cried, trying to pull Prance out of the pegasus’ grasp. “Do something!”

Adagio sent another powerful blast into the pegasus’ face. When the light had faded, Silent Wing’s eyes had been struck sore, and steam lifted off of his mane. Lost in his fury, he bit onto the earth stallion’s tail even harder, and gave himself another jostle. His left wing popped free from its bindings. Immediately, he lifted the appendage up into the air, and slammed it onto the ground with all of his might. The crack it made was as loud as thunder.

Looking out across what once was the Fylleions’ fields, the collection of ponies could still see pegasi silhouettes stoking the fires of Sonata’s cottage. To their horror, upon hearing the crack of Silent’s wing, a few of them halted in their rounds about the smoke, and turned to see what was the matter.

Seeing this, Prance mustered up the last reserves of his strength, raised his fitted foreleg so that the blade pressed against his tail, and wrenched as hard as he could. When he had cut himself free from Silent Wing’s grasp Adagio and Sonata pulled him beyond reach.

Keeping her eye on the flock of approaching pegasi in the distance, Adagio charged her horn, and drew her companions in close. In a flash of light, all three of them were gone.

They reappeared not too far away, the cliff still well within sight. Silent Wing could be heard crashing his wing into the ground, sounding the call to his airborne brethren.

Adagio leaned onto her forelegs, her face plastered with sweat. A bewildered look was in her eye. “Blast it. The weight is too great, and I've expelled far too much of my magic,” she hissed, turning toward her company. “Allow me to catch my breath. Then I shall try again.”

Silence passed between them as they watched the shadows of pegasus wings cast themselves over the bluff in the beyond.

“I suppose three ponies would prove cumbersome to carry that way,” Sonata tittered, helping Prance as he struggled to stand.

Adagio grimaced. She already knew she’d made a mistake by speaking before the knight ever had a chance to open his mouth.

“Adagio...” he began.

“No,” the Duchess interjected, looking quite cross.

“Well that is hardly fair,” he croaked falling back down to his haunches. “You haven’t yet heard what it is I have to say.”

In the beyond, the flock of pegasi had split into two. One half had descended down below the precipice to fetch their fallen sister; the other came to Silent Wing’s aid.

Even from this distance, Adagio could see the mercenary’s incessant mouth yapping, his neck craning to direct his cohorts toward the woods. This wasn’t good. “I already know what you are going to say, Lighthoof, and the answer is no,” she said, turning about and gathering the two earth ponies together again. “Now, come along.”

Again, her horn flashed. When the group reappeared, Adagio fought down a wave of panic upon realizing that they had traveled an even shorter distance than before. Her head was spinning. She was expelling too much magic for too little reward.

Save for Silent Wing and his fallen comrade, the flock of pegasi no longer haunted the bluff. Instead, their silhouettes peeked through the canopy as they advanced upon the fugitive trio.

“Gio, I know that you can understand why you must...” Prance prodded. The urgency in his voice was clear.

“For Celestia’s sake, Lighthoof, do not ask this of me again!” the Duchess cried. “We shall find a way together!”

“You said yourself that our weight is far too great,” the knight pressed. “It is impractical.” He watched on anxiously as the airborne silhouettes continued their approach. “Please, Adagio. It is only for a time. The Duke is unrelenting this evening. Best to get as far as you can, and I shall meet you again soon enough.”

“Upright shall surely destroy you,” Adagio hissed.

“He shan’t,” Prance replied, shaking his weary head. “Not if I am the only pony alive who will know your whereabouts. If I am gone, he risks losing you forever, and we both know how stubborn Upright is about his possessions.” The stallion attempted to chuckle, but only managed to wince in pain.

Adagio passed him a severely irritated look. If she were one to huff steam, surely she would have done so. “I am not his possession. Not anymore.” Forcing a facade of calm, slowly she parted her lips again. “Lighthoof, you are severely injured, and not of sound mind. Had Upright still wanted me, he would have never allowed me to leave.”

This time Prance did laugh and heartily. He couldn't even afford her the courtesy of an explanation, knowing that it was unnecessary.

Perturbed by his biting laughter, and the sound of pegasi upon the winds, Adagio sighed. “Lighthoof, what was the point if I let you go now? Of your field games, and your beguiling words, and your stupid market apples, and asking me to run with you, and Beryl, and Moonstone… What would all of this have been for?” Adagio whimpered, stomping a hoof into the soil. Sonata flinched where she sat a short distance away, covering her eyes with her hooves for a variety of reasons.

Prance quieted down, and looked at Adagio as if she had asked him the simplest question in the world. “For you, silly mare,” he scoffed. His eyes turned upon the fast approaching flock. “I would relive this night a thousand times over if I knew that you would be free. Please understand, Gio, that in this matter I have always been inconsequential. I've made my choices. I already know who I am. All I want now is for you to be given the same opportunity. And you can have it if only you would learn to let go.”

Silence passed between them as the shadows of wings blotted out the moonlight up above. Adagio could hear their voices calling angrily to her as the pegasi began their descent.

“Blast you, Lighthoof!” she whimpered.

“Miss Adagio, I'm afraid! What should we do?” Sonata squeaked, giving a few futile tugs to Prance’s ears, and opting to wrap her forelegs about his neck instead.

Taking a deep breath, the Duchess dug deep and settled into that calm, collected place within. She absolutely refused to panic or cry again. Such weak emotions were a luxury she could no longer afford herself.

Be honest, Adagio. Be realistic.

She looked toward Sonata, then Prance. She turned to gaze back toward the cliff, now void of all life. The wind tore at her mane. The pegasi were almost upon them. Her brow twitched. She bit her lip, stomped her hoof, and at last gave a great huff. “Lighthoof, if you die, I swear I shall conjure you back from the dead just so that I may kill you myself.”

Under different circumstances the statement might have garnered a laugh or two between the lovers. Tonight, they could only manage weary smiles.

“Understood,” Prance said with a nod of his head. He stroked Sonata's soft blue mane once, then gently broke their embrace. “Please look after this one, won't you?” he added, a mischievous grin shining through his pain.

Adagio nodded in return. “Miss Sonata, hold onto me,” she commanded the earth mare. Again Sonata obliged. When they were set and her horn had begun to glow, Adagio passed the knight one stern, parting glance. “I shall see you again, Lighthoof. Now, you swear it to me!” Though her voice cracked, her gaze never wavered.

“Miss Adagio!” Sonata squealed, her wide eyes directed upward where a pair of pegasi were almost upon them.

“I swear it,” Prance said with all the confidence that could be expected from somepony as brazen he.

Drinking in the sight of the white stallion, of the two, purple pools that were his eyes, Adagio bowed her head one last time, her horn flashing bright.

As You Were

“We are beings destined for greatness. Our hearts are bound for abundance, our minds for ineffable aptitude. Nevertheless, along the path of our lives, many of us may stumble, and be lost to the storm. Aligning the forces within ourselves reveals the light we require to act as guide in our journey. It is the sure path toward inner serenity and the ascension of both mind and spirit.”

Two flickering wicks sliced through thick blankets of steam pressing inward in the dark. The scent of heated rose oil and lavender smoke permeated the tile-lined room. On the floor, beside the brimming tub, a pile of hastily discarded clothing lay scattered alongside a plastic bag filled to the edges with a dozen small, silver paper boxes. Printed upon each of them was the visage of an implausibly elated woman. In her eyes was the promise of contentment via a twenty-minute, five dollar dye job. A third of the boxes had been emptied of their contents.

On top of the bag sat a smartphone, its glowing screen opened to a media player from which an unsettlingly serene female voice emerged. Padding its base was a once snowy towel, now stained to ruin with splotches of marigold and orange.

One slender, buttery arm idled down from the tub’s edge to extend a single buttery finger toward the media player’s volume button. The finger dripped a small puddle of rapidly cooling moisture onto the floor.

“Stress and fear are the creeping gloom. When we feel tense or fearful, we disturb our innate sense of inner balance, hence upsetting our inner guide toward greatness,” the phone blared. “Just as any repetitive positive physical exercise might heal the aches and pains of the body, so might consistent positive mental exercise heal the aches and pains of the mind. When we are feeling stressed or afraid, we should recite these helpful mantras as often as possible to initiate the process of returning ourselves to a state of inner balance. Repeat after me…”

The crackling voice paused for a moment as if allowing the listener either time to mentally prepare themselves for meditation or time to blow their brains out with a grimey pistol, depending on the mood lighting. “Breathe in, breathe out.”

“Breathe in. Breathe out,” Adagio repeated, skimming the surface of the tub water with her fingertips. Her ordinarily thick orange waves and spirals were soaked and hung down into the water in billows of fantastically long undulates. She squeezed one lock between her index finger and thumb, dragging the digits down upon its length. Opening her eyes, she stared at the fingertips and grimaced. The flesh upon them was stained with an unpleasant orange tinge. “Breathe in. Breathe out,” she repeated, closing her eyes and leaning back. This time she thought to actually follow the mantra’s advice.

“I do not surrender. I only surrender to the process,” the perturbingly peaceful female voice said.

“I do not surrender. I only surrender to the process,” Adagio repeated. Increasingly, the glimmer of a smile appeared around the corners of her lips.

“Worrying today is borrowing from my tomorrow,” the media player continued.

“Worrying today is borrowing from—”

“NOOOOOO!” burst the most blood-curdling howl Adagio had heard since that one time in Manehattan she and her sisters had invited a wealthy heiress for Easter after they’d turned her prudish daughter—a tenant of theirs—onto booze and jazz just for fun. Just to see what would happen. Unlike the heiress’ scream, however, this outburst was not even the slightest bit enjoyable or funny.

Adagio gasped and shot to her feet, spraying water everywhere. It was just by luck that she happened to topple the bags and towels atop of the phone, thus keeping it sufficiently dry. The lecturer’s voice seemed transformed into muffled protests beneath ripples of stained cloth.

Thinking Starshot returned to finish them off, Adagio wasted no time with grabbing a towel before stepping out of the tub and rushing to the door. “Sonata? Aria?” she panted, the air suddenly gone from her lungs. Fumbling with the lock, she staggered when something person sized—or more specifically, Sonata sized—crashed into the opposite side of the door before it assumedly realized the thing was bolted tight. Some twisting on the other side of the handle substantiated this.

Managing to wrench the door open at last, the eldest Siren came face-to-face with her youngest sister, sniveling pitifully in the threshold. “Where is he? Tell me!” she screamed, practically shoving the youngest girl out of the way to see into the living room.

“What?” Sonata squeaked, looking confused.

“The mage! Is he here?” Adagio heaved, her eyes darting about. After about ten seconds of searching and contemplating whether it was possible to beat a wizard to death with a shower brush, she realized that the only one present within a forty step radius was her sister. Gazing down at the girl in a fluster, shivering from the chilly living room air upon her bare skin, Adagio breathed a sigh. She hadn’t yet decided whether it was a sigh of relief or disgust. That would all depend on Sonata. “Sonata? You better have a damn good reason for interrupting my bath like this,” she growled. Her eyes flitted up toward the girl’s particularly peculiar hair.

Passing her elder the most pathetic of pouts, Sonata clasped her hands together, and took a deep breath as if preparing to unleash some horrible revelation upon the world—perhaps that the tooth fairy wasn’t real or that her favorite grape-flavored juice boxes didn't actually contain any grape juice at all. “I'm… I'm…” she stammered, beginning to hyperventilate.

“Yes?” Adagio sneered, clasping at herself for some illusion of warmth.

“I'm... old!” Sonata squealed, exploding into a spray of fresh tears.

Adagio eyed her up and down, teetering on the brink of exhaustion. Slowly, deliberately even, she shut the door in Sonata’s face. Relocking the thing, she made haste back to the warm refuge of the tub.

Growing more comfortable with the idea of ignoring her sister’s whining and rattling of the door handle from its opposite side, Adagio settled back down into her bath. Just as she was slipping into womb-like comfort—not that an immortal cold-blood would recall such beginnings—a thought occurred to her. Sonata was pretty strong, wasn't she?

The door broke open, the latch bolt splintering from its recess.

“Dagiiii!” Sonata wailed as she blundered into the downstairs bathroom, smacked on the light, and made a beeline for the tub.

“Sonata! Get out!” Adagio squealed, shooting up to her feet, not too keen on witnessing one hundred and forty-some odd pounds of rampaging Siren barreling straight toward her. The eldest girl snatched her pigment-stained towel from the floor, and held it up to shield her body from what were most certainly unworthy eyes.

“Dagi, why won’t you help me? I'm dying!” Sonata choked, ripping the towel away from her sister with ease, and throwing the stained cloth over her head. “I don't wanna duh-duh-diiiie!” She spun on her heels to go blubber at her pitiful reflection in the bathroom mirror.

“Sonata, you little—rrgh! Listen to me!” Adagio barked, using her hands and soaked tresses for makeshift modesty. “It's alright! I went shopping this morning, and—”

“How can I go to work like this? I can't go to work like this!” Sonata stammered, rushing over to throttle her sister by the shoulders, nearly making her slip. “How can I ever show my face in public again?”

It was evident that the younger girl was entering one of her manic meltdowns, one that Adagio was ill-equipped to handle at that particular moment whilst as naked and soaked as the day she was hatched—at least according to what old Equestrian folklore spoke of her birth. Understandably, the eldest Siren decided to do what she inevitably did whenever she didn't feel up to handling a particularly nasty or irritating problem. “Aria!” She beat a fist against the wall forcefully enough to ensure that some part of the racket would find its way upstairs.

Speedy footsteps rushed down the steps beyond the threshold. Soon after, Aria came stumbling in. “What the entire hell is your problem?” she yelled, then choked upon observing the baffling and bare spectacle before her. “Whoa. Okay, whatever this is, I want no parts of it,” she said, her glazed eyes clearly dissenting with this opinion as they lingered somewhere below Adagio’s neck. “So, uh… I'm gonna just turn around now, and uhh...”

“Seas, Aria. What are you, three hundred? Stop ogling me, grab this plastic bag, and watch Sonata for a second until I can dry off,” Adagio groaned, shivering as she motioned toward the adorably pouty, blue heap clinging onto her for dear life.

Aria’s half-delighted expression faded into full displeasure. “Why? And why does Sonata have a piss-stained towel on her head?”

Adagio growled. Whatever emotional repairs those stress mantras had managed to complete were promptly undone. “Because she saw her hair in her reflection, I'm guessing. And it's not piss,” she hissed through clenched and clattering teeth.

Aria’s features contorted. “Her hair? What are you talking about?” she scoffed, crossing her arms and leaning against the door’s frame.

“Ari, it's the most terrible thing in the whole wide world!” Sonata bawled, burying her face into Adagio’s hair. A tug of unearthly proportions was required to deter her from using the orange mass as a handkerchief.

“Aria, I don't have time for your games,” Adagio sighed, prying Sonata off, and stepping out of the tub. Noting the genuinely perplexed look her rosey sister was wearing, she arched an eyebrow. “When did you wake up?”

“Let's see. About two seconds after you two started screaming bloody murder, and one second after I half pissed myself thinking that wizard nut had come back to finish us off—Can you pack those things away already? They're extremely distracting,” Aria griped, pointing her finger toward Adagio’s chest. She waited until her elder tossed a fistful of hair over herself, and began to get dressed before speaking again. “Now, what the hell did you say happened to the Toothpaste’s hair?”

Adagio passed her middle sister a withering glare, bent over, picked up the plastic bag, and chucked it in her direction.

The dour girl caught it with both ease and indignation. Looking inside of the bag, she studied the boxes of hair dye. The labeling displayed all three sisters’ respective hair tones.

“Just look in the damn mirror,” Adagio groused, rubbing at her temples.

Looking rather bored, Aria turned her head and craned her neck to take a gander at her reflection. In it, she saw her beautifully imperfect self, the bruised shadows upon her face, her bandaged neck and arms, her glimmering eyes, her long purple hair striped with striking green and gray streaks, her...

A gray streak?

Only slightly more intrigued, the middle siren took a closer look at herself. There was now a thick, lock of gray hair flowing down to her waist. It framed her cheek, and hung limp at her side. In spite of this startling alteration where for a thousand years there had been none, Aria’s disposition remained hovering around the general area of ‘meh’. She blinked at her visage.

“Rad.”
_________

Sonata sat sniffling to herself on the couch. Aria was slouched beside her. The younger girl’s head was still draped in a towel, except now the cloth was splotched in a variety of teals and navy blues. Her dampened hair hung down to her waist in disheveled whips, dripping water onto the oversized yellow shirt she now donned.

Garbed in a ratty, oversized hoodie, her hair left undyed, Aria leaned against the couch’s armrest whilst skipping through tracks on her portable cd player. A pair of enormous headphones sitting atop her head communicated to anyone who might be watching that she definitely did not want to talk to them. Nevertheless, every now and then her gaze flitted upward to study her younger sister. Whatever hint of concern might have revealed itself upon her face was buried forthwith under an avalanche of irritation. Despite her headphones, every one of Sonata’s sniffles cut into her flesh like a freshly sharpened blade—oh, the irony.

When Sonata snorted back something vile for at least the fifth time in two minutes, Aria had finally had enough. Cringing, the gloomy Siren slammed her headphones down, and turned to face her sister. “Will you relax? Stop dwelling so much on this stuff. I thought you were good at doing that! Just because our hair is turning gray doesn't mean we’re gonna die right now or something! It's probably just a…” She scratched her gray streak. “A sign of our stuff… you know, our Source thing or whatever draining out because of all the energy we used last night. Right, Adagio?”

As she spoke, Adagio passed in front of the couch, holding yet another plastic bag, and headed toward the kitchen. “Most likely, yes,” she said without looking at either of them.

“See? If we don't expend so much energy then nothing as drastic will happen,” Aria pressed, disregarding Sonata's sniffles.

Again, Adagio passed by, headed toward the downstairs bathroom whilst wringing out her soaked, slightly blue-tinted hands. “Correction: It will still happen, just not as quickly.”

This only succeeded in provoking another bout of whimpering from the sulking blue girl. “We're gonna turn into grandmas! I'm going to have to learn how to knit!”

The bridge of Aria’s nose crinkled. “Sonata, you've been knitting for the past two thousand years. Half of that time with hooves even.”

Sonata balked. “Oh. Right. Oh, dirt. I've always been a grandma?”

“Aw, cheer up, deary,” Adagio replied, perhaps archly. “Want me to get you a butterscotch?”

Sonata’s face lit up. “Mm. Butterscotch. Yes, please!” And then it collapsed into a horrified gawk. “Oh, god!”

Shooting her elder sister a nasty scowl, Aria grit her teeth, and forced herself to take a deep breath. “Your hair didn't even turn that much, Sonata. For Seas’ sake, look at mine! And you don't see me whining about it!”

Sonata ceased her whimpering, craning her head to give Aria the most haunted of glowers. “What is a harbinger of death to she who harbors a death wish?” she said plainly, her voice dropping a few octaves toward a pitch that could only be described as “terrifyingly normal”. Her lips pressed together into a secured seal.

The two eldest goggled her, before recoiling.

“Freak,” Adagio mumbled under her breath. She shook her head before again marching off.

“Thaaaat… that isn’t truuue,” Aria said in the dispassionately duplicitous way that only she could manage.

“You took a knife,” Sonata squeaked, raising a pantomiming fist into the air, “and… and you just—”

“When are you going to fix your hair, Aria?” Adagio interjected, knowing that such discussions as the former could only lead to dark places.

“I'm not going to fix anything,” Aria replied, continuing to eye Sonata out of her peripherals. “I like my hair this way. It makes me look more my age, you know? Distinguished-like. Think I'll keep it like this.”

“Death wish,” Sonata hissed, vindicatively.

“Don't be ridiculous, Aria. If you actually looked your age, you'd be a pile of pink dust sitting next to a sour-faced skeleton,” Adagio scoffed. “And what if somebody sees you like that? It’s not even a color that makes sense on your head. People will know it's real, and then they're going to ask questions.”

Aria scoffed. “What people? I don't give a damn about any people. If anyone has a problem with my hair, well then, they can just suck—”

A loud ringing startled the Sirens half way up the walls before Adagio realized the sound was coming from the landline. “Hold that thought,” she said, tossing up a finger, and reaching for the phone. “Hello?” Her eyes went wide, purposefully planting themselves upon Aria as she spoke into the receiver. “Oh, hi, Cookie. How are you? How’s the… eh... hair?”

For a realized Siren, matters of the heart are of the utmost significance. In that cacophonic organ, ever fluctuating between extremes, gray spaces of sentimentality are rare occurrences. The Siren’s heart either adores or it despises, its love is far too sparse. It can lust or rebuke, but rarely does it simply admire or deter. Perhaps these middle grounds of emotion are a biological implausibility for beings equally born of both ecstasy and disharmony. This would conceivably explain Aria’s immediate tumble from the couch and entanglement within her headphone cord as she flailed her arms about in the universal gesticulation for “I am not home, and quite possibly might never be again.”

“What’s that?... Ah, a note... Oh my, yes that definitely does sound strange... You were worried about her?” Adagio spoke into the receiver, grinning wickedly as she wrapped its cable around her little finger. “Actually, Aria just so happens to be resting at the moment, but I can certainly tell her that you called when she's up.”

Aria breathed a sigh of relief where she lay in her bindings.

“Well, that's a difficult question to answer,” Adagio stammered, her disposition descending into one of worry. Looking around for some sort of believable conversational evasion and seeing none, she opted to kick Sonata in the arm instead.

“Ow!” the youngest girl screeched.

“Sonata, what did I tell you about doing that advanced yoga crap?” Adagio bellowed. “Look, Cookie, I've gotta go save my sister from herself, but I will certainly let Aria know that you called. Bye!” The phone fell onto the hook with a loud chime. Adagio breathed a big sigh of relief, then promptly cut her eyes in Aria’s direction. “Aria, when are you going to speak to that woman?”

“When the sun fizzles out and collapses into a gaping black hole,” Aria croaked, trying and failing to free herself from her restraints.

Adagio pressed her temples, “That mortal obviously cares about you. And I know that you remember our rules!”

“Oh! Oh! I remember!” Sonata chirped, flinging the towel from her head and flailing her arm about in the air. “Number one: Do not play with your meal for too long. Its green tastes better the longer it cooks but the food might become too attached. Number two: If you do choose to keep it as a pet, never give it reason for suspicion.”

“Good girl. That's right,” Adagio beamed, patting the blue girl on the head. She then frowned at Aria. “I don’t care what you do with her, but keep her close, Aria. That means at least staying in touch. When mortals suddenly begin to feel shunned, they get suspicious. When they get suspicious—”

“They start to snoop. Yea, yea, I know,” Aria griped, finally managing to untangle herself from her headphone cord.

Adagio placed her hands upon her hips. “We don’t need that kind of attention around us right now! And if you do… you know… feel things for it—I mean her, then we most certainly don't need that attention coming from her.” She turned away and crossed her arms. “A couple centuries ago, I would've just dealt with your mess quickly, as usual, and called it a day.”

Aria’s shoulders hiked up around her ears. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing,” Adagio tittered with a wave of her wrist. “Just know that I can't be held responsible for what might happen if your little hobby starts coming to our door.”

Aria bounded upward to stick a finger in her sister's face. “How about you back off, and mind your own damn businesses, huh? I can handle Cookie.”

“I'm going to be nice, and hold my tongue today, because I know you've had a long night. But don't expect my sweetness to endure forever,” Adagio mumbled, now inspecting her nails.

“No!” Aria protested, grasping at her elder’s shirt, and pulling her in close. “You got something to say to me, then by all means, Dazzle, grow a pair and say it!”

“Fine! Your carelessness is going to get your stupid, pet mortal killed!” Adagio barked, shoving Aria away and smiling when she stumbled backward. “Might as well beat your enemies to the punch, and knock her over the head with a big rock. I’m sure it would be the kinder option.”

Sonata, who had been sitting between them looking quite pensive, raised a finger. “One time on the Exploration Channel, this guy said that sea bass can grow both male and female—”

“Shut up, Sonata!” both Aria and Adagio bellowed, effectively hurtling their youngest sibling back into a state of melancholy.

Feeling dejected, the soggy blue Siren stood, and quietly made her way toward the kitchen. If the two older girls had not been locked in their match of wits, not to mention wounding words, they might have noticed the sound of sizzling eggs in a skillet, or the smell of frying bacon wafting right up under their wrinkled noses. In fact, the headstrong pair ceased their fighting only after Sonata had led them both toward the table, plopping each of them into their seats.

The girls sat frowning around a breakfast table packed to the brim with all of their favorites: pancakes, french toast, regular toast, scrambled eggs, fried ham, and bacon. All of the necessary beverages were also present. It was only a shame that most of the spread remained untouched and rapidly cooling amongst a trio who—whilst steadfast in their tight-lipped, arm crossed poses—had decided they weren't going to acknowledge each other’s existence.

Sonata, seeing a rare opportunity to poke fun at her siblings, had stacked her own platter high with an array of syrupy, peppery delights. She chomped down on a particularly juicy-looking slice of ham as she addressed the two hard heads “We’ve been through a lot, you know,” she gabbled, taking a big bite of toast. “Wouldn’t it be nice if we could eat breakfast for once without fighting? You two do need to eat. Especially you, Aria. I bet you're super hungry.”

Aria was too busy death glaring a heap of bacon that Sonata had strategically placed directly in front of Adagio. The pallidness of her skin coupled with a pair of purple shadows about her eyes had become unpleasantly conspicuous. Adagio was eyeing down a hefty pot of coffee and platter of eggs that sat before her grimacing sister in a similar fashion.

“Aria, doesn't the bacon look good?” Sonata poked, batting her lashes. “Adagio, I made those eggs especially for you. Don't you want them? Maybe you two could, idunno, help each other out a little bit.”

The elder girls both shot their sister weary looks.

“Geez, Sonata. A little more subtlety and your point might have flown right over our heads,” Aria deadpanned, rolling her eyes. Sulking in Adagio’s direction, she opted to stand up without saying a word.

Seeing the intention behind this action, Adagio followed suit. Slowly, cautiously even, both Sirens shuffled past one another—making doubly sure to shake threatening fists in the other’s face along the way. When they'd reached the chairs opposite to where each of them had previously been sitting, they both plopped down unceremoniously, reached out for their respective platters of bacon and eggs, and with little fanfare, began shoveling it all into their mouths.

“Aw, come on!” Sonata whined, banging a fist against the table. “What happened to the sweet, huggy stuff from last night? Why can’t we ever be like that unless psycho time killers are after us or something? I know you two love each other. Can’t you just keep that going for once?”

Understandably, the blush was showing more in Adagio’s cheeks than Aria’s.

“I… I thought you were asleep during… during…” Aria stammered, twisting a few of her new gray strands about her finger. “I thought you were asleep!”

“I was, eventually. Somewhere right after the hugs and hair braiding. It takes me a while when I'm not in my own bed, okay?” Now Sonata was blushing. “Anyway, we’re not even talking about me! Is there anything besides almost dying that’ll get you two to stop fighting and just be nice to one another? Granted, we were almost turned into tiny, itty, bitty Siren chunks last night… and Aria almost… almost…”

An uncomfortable hush besieged the trio until Aria, once again digging into her infinitesimal well of patience and empathy, managed a loud growl. “Sonata, I'm fine! Stop crying already. You're screwing up my appetite.”

“How are they, anyway?” Adagio probed, staring down into her half-devoured eggs. “You know. Your… those. Do you hurt? Have you changed the bandages yet?”

Flustered, the dour Siren cleared her throat a few times before placing her hands into her lap, well away from anyone’s direct line of sight. “I uh… no. They're still a bit… uh… yea. But I…”

“I'll help you with them after we eat,” the eldest girl offered, unsmiling, still not managing to look up. She poured herself a fresh cup of coffee. “We need to talk about this, anyway. All of this. What happened last night can't happen again.”

The mood at the table shifted. Aria slumped down into her seat. Sonata closed her eyes, covered her ears, and keeled over into her stack of pancakes, wishing with all of her might that all the trouble would just go away.

“Adagio, I know I'm not exactly the most optimistic creature there ever was, but I still feel like I’m being rational when I ask—how?” Aria inquired, shrugging her shoulders. “How can we prevent Starshit from doing anything he wants with us? He can see everything. Hell, he probably knew this conversation was going to happen. How do you beat something like that?”

Sonata was groaning again. The syrup atop her pancakes bubbled about her mouth.

“You and I both know it isn't so cut and dry. Relax, Aria,” Adagio sighed, biting off some more eggs from the tip of her fork. “Sonata, eat your pancakes.”

Neither of the younger girls followed either of those instructions.

Instead of getting irritated, Adagio decided to adhere to some ostensibly good advice she had received earlier that morning. “Breathe in. Breathe out,” she soughed, squeezing the bridge of her nose. “Worrying today is borrowing from my tomorrow.”

Looking around at her forlorn sistren, and conceiving no other way to pull them out of their despair, Adagio reached below the edge of the table to retrieve something, then plopped another plastic bag onto its surface. “I bought us phones,” she declared.

“Fuck yea!” Aria exclaimed, sitting up to bang her fists against the table. Adagio winced. Sonata was screaming again, syrup all over her face.

Together, they changed Aria’s then Sonata’s bandages in the dim of Adagio’s room. Perhaps for tradition’s sake, the eldest Siren allowed herself a moment of vulnerability, and hummed an old healing incantation. Gingerly, almost fearfully, her sisters joined in. Their voices, broken, weary, and worn, told of their troubles. Their heads ached. Their throats burned. Still they sang, and despite the jarring sound of three creatures trying to traverse the frontiers of their damaged bodies, from what seemed like nothingness, just a bit of serenity began to bloom.

Though the morning was crisp and cool, the Sirens’ attic was still comfortably warm. Adagio rolled out a rug onto its dusty floor and bid her siblings to sit which they did eagerly, each of them fiddling away with their brand new box of distractions.

Adagio had to pry the phones out of their hands just to get them to look at her, and when she did, she could have sworn that she heard predatorial growling seeping out from their cores. “Listen, these aren’t toys. They are for ease of communication,” she scolded them both whilst taking her seat. “We have to be able to keep in touch all of the time from now on. I've already put our numbers into all three so there's no hassle. Now, if we’re ready, I’d like to talk with you girls about—”

“Question,” Aria cut in, ignoring the way her elder's increasingly clenched fingers had begun pulling up scraps of carpet and wood. “How did you buy these? I mean, I knew you could if you wanted to, but… I guess what I'm asking is… which useless piece of shiny crap did you have to pry from your own cold, dead hands to afford these?”

Adagio was in the middle of taking possibly the longest breath she'd ever breathed. A few seconds of air sucking later, she managed to look at her sister again without instinctively snarling. “It’s not important right now, Aria. There are much bigger things at stake, and I haven't had a chance to catch up with you since our meeting at the park.”

“Oh! The park!” Sonata gasped, clapping her hands. “Can we go back there soon, Dagi? Maybe at night next time so we can see the stars!”

“Quiet,” Adagio replied whilst pulling three black velvet squares of cloth from her sweater pocket, and tossing them at either girls’ laps. “Here. Hold onto these.” Moving quickly, she made for the attic door, and closed it shut. Then heading toward the window, she pulled the curtains closed until nothing was left but darkness.

“Dagi, it's scary now,” Sonata hissed. The sound of her latching onto Aria’s arm—and the tussle that inevitably ensued—seemed deafening in the quiet blackness.

“Sonata, you're a freaking primordial leviathan. How are you scared of the dark?” Aria retorted.

“It reminds me of the pantry I used to sleep in back when I was—Ow!” A resounding ‘slap’ ricocheted off the walls.

“Will you please zip it?” Aria stressed. Her irritation was forgotten when she felt a calmer, firmer hand take her wrist and draw it under one of the velvet sheets next to Sonata’s. “Adagio, what are you doing?”

Someone’s finger tapped the gloomy siren in the center of her palm again and again. The strikes were sporadic, sometimes brief, sometimes lingering like one would jab a button. Aria didn't know what to make of it until, after a few moments, she realized the order of the strikes repeated themselves. These weren't random, but patterned. And if they were patterned, that hinted toward communicative intent. Then, it dawned upon her. “M-o-r-s-e?” she tapped the pattern into her elder’s palm.

“Yes,” Adagio replied in kind. “Pre-war. Do u remember?”

“Yes,” the middle Siren tapped. “U realize this going take 4ever.”

“You don’t have anything better to do,” Adagio scoffed out loud.

“What's happening?” Sonata squealed in the dark.

“Sonata!” Aria growled, grabbing her palm, and tapping into it. “s-h-u-t u-p y-o-u d-i-n-g-b-a-t!”

“Oh,” the youngest girl tapped into Aria’s palm. “Hey!”

Predicting what would come of this, namely her sisters attempting to hole punch insults into each other's flesh, Adagio snatched their hands, and placed them side by side beneath the velvet cloth. “Stop it,” she tapped.

“Adagio, how spell ‘numbskull’?” Sonata tapped.

“Easy,” Aria replied. “S-o-n-a—”

“I asked Adagio!”

“U already spelled it to ask the question, u numbskull!”

“Shut up!” Adagio stressed, giving each of them a pinch for emphasis. When they had finally settled down, she continued on. “This how we discuss important info now. Don't know how time magic works with visual reality, but think if we can’t see or hear, neither can he. Keep it in dark, hidden under something like velvet. Same for phone messages. Undercover then delete evidence after. Ok?”

“Yea,” Aria replied

“U so smart, Dagi,” Sonata added.

“Good. Now, Aria, talk. What happened with u and mage?”

Aria scoffed audibly. “It's obvious.” Even her fingers leaked sarcasm. “For righteous mage, he sure likes carving up girls.”

“Well, we carved into his wife,” Adagio quipped.

“Seas!”

“I said ‘we’!” Adagio pressed. “Ok. What did u learn?”

“Remember portal u mentioned? The one thought was in woods? I don't think in woods,” Aria tapped.

“Meaning?” Adagio inquired.

“I think he carries portal on himself. Think in this world, his magic limited, like ours. The SOB has tons of it but—”

“Ari—” the eldest Siren griped.

“Ok!” Aria shot. “He carries thing in jacket. Looks like shiny disc. More magic used, dimmer it got, and harder it was to use magic later. By end, magic really troublesome.”

“I remember that, 2!” Sonata added. “Must have been important cause kept looking at it. He changed subject when Ari asked about it. I was all like ‘Hey, don't try ur tricks with us mister—”

“Did he say y he showed up? Why right then?” Adagio inquired, taking a moment to think. “He appear to u later while alone? He promised u something to encourage u to harm urself?”

“No!” Aria tapped. “Not like that. That choice all mine. I was brash and… “ She stopped the code for a moment. An uneasy aura filled the empty space between them. “Not applicable. He stopped me.”

“What? Y?” Both Adagio and Sonata tapped in tandem into their sister’s palm.

“Don't know. Guess same reason he spared Sonata,” Aria replied.

“He put necklace thing on her, 2,” Sonata added.

“What kind necklace thing?” Adagio asked.

“A ring,” Aria clarified. “Like ones to stop unicorn magic. Bigger. Spell reworked for Siren magic. Couldn't sing near him anymore.”

“Seas,” Adagio said. “That means he wants us alive. Probably as prisoners.”

“Y?” Sonata asked. Her fingers trembled slightly. Neither of her sisters answered, perhaps to spare her the extra worry.

“Can’t talk out loud about old days anymore. Our time on land,” Aria continued. “I think he's searching for Source so he can—”

“Destroy it,” Adagio finished. Her hand twitched. “Sorry girls. My fault.”

“We're too old, I think,” Aria added. “I think he going too fast. Equestria too big. Can't find us back then. Don't think he will.” She thought to herself for a moment. “Also, is Duke… your husband… traceable? Find him in historical records?”

“No,” Adagio said outright. “No. Never.”

The succinctness of her response made Aria hum. “Care to expand?” she inquired.

“No,” Adagio shot again. “I don't. U done?”

“Suppose so,” Aria said, self-consciously stretching her fingers. Adagio and Sonata could feel her arms hop as she shrugged her shoulders.

“Alright. He doesn't just want to destroy us in present. He wants stop us in past,” Adagio gleaned. “Before wife. Before everything. Lunatic. Bad idea. Not worthy of his pest uncle.”

“What about journal?” Aria asked, Adagio's comment having jogged her memory. “He was very adamant.”

Adagio scoffed out loud. “I'm sure. But he won't find. Info inside could set him off. Make him volatile.”

“Right. Not volatile already or anything,” Aria said. One could almost hear her eyes rolling. “For curiosity’s sake, what it say?”

Adagio hesitated for a moment before replying. “It explains y we awoke after return to sea. Y we began spreading dark songs.”

“Yep. Might fuck him up a little bit,” Aria replied.

“A lotta bit,” Sonata added.

There was a long pause before Aria took the opportunity to code again. “So, I guess this part where I ask what we're going to do.”

“Shimmer,” Adagio stated. Her candidness was clear, even through Morse. “Shimmer going to help us get home, whether she wants or not.”

“Kay. How?” Aria inquired, unimpressed by the mention of Sunset.

Sonata said nothing, trying to figure how best to keep her fingers from tapping guiltily.

“Working on it. If sympathy route doesn’t pan out then—”

“Sympathy?” Aria shot. “We’re groveling now?”

Thankfully, Adagio’s bruised expression was invisible in the dark. “U didn’t have do anything. Shut it. Just need more time with her.” Adagio could suddenly feel both of her sisters bristling. “What?”

“This gonna be 1 of those weird things?” Sonata inquired.

“What’s that even mean?” Adagio asked.

“She’s asking if this gonna be 1 of your sleazy missions. I'm asking, too. What r u planning? Make ur hair scrambled eggs to her bacon?” Aria chuckled out loud. “Might have problem. Don't think she swings that way.” Both she and Sonata burst out into giggles.

“As if u aren’t devastated, Aria,” Adagio quipped. “We know how much u love bacon.”

This time, only Sonata’s laugh was audible. The sound was stifled by another loud slap. “Oooow,” she groaned.

“Are we done here?” Aria huffed into the darkness. “I've got some embarrassing photos of Sonata to upload to the internet.”

“Jokes on you, Aria. I already did yours like an hour ago,” Sonata hissed.

“What?”

“Listen, u 2,” Adagio said, breaking into Morse again. “I expect u be responsible with those! They are tools, not toys!”

“Kaaay,” the younger girls replied. Even through the code, Adagio could sense the sort of disingenuousness that reeked of troubles to come.

“Now, are we done?” Aria pressed.

“Actually, Sonata is done. Aria, I wanted to talk with you alone for a moment,” Adagio replied.

“Wait, why can't I hear?” Sonata whined. Her worries were forgotten when Adagio felt around for their phones, inspected them until she found Sonata’s, and dangled the contraption before the younger girl’s nose.

“Go fill this up with Shakesmare quotes and lip gloss trends or something,” Adagio said.

Like a puppy, Sonata snatched the device up, and skipped away. “Oh my gosh, I can’t wait to show Peach!”

Adagio faltered. “Sonata, you're not planning on working today are you?”

Sonata passed her elder the most innocent of looks. “Yea, I was. I go most everyday.”

“But Sonata,” the eldest Siren scoffed. “After last night? You're injured. You’re upset. I think it would be best if you took it easy for a day or two.” This garnered a scrutinizing glare from Aria that both Sonata and Adagio ignored for the time being.

“I… I think I should go, Adagio,” Sonata stammered, passing her sister a half-hearted smile. “We… need the money.”

It shocked Adagio a little to hear Sonata outwardly oppose her opinion. “We'll be fine,” she insisted.

“What?” Aria shot. Her eyes bored into the eldest girl.

“Sonata, you can afford to take a few—”

“I don't want to!” Sonata shouted, startling both her sisters into silence. The light on her phone illuminated the sad and weary shadows plaguing her face. “I… I just gotta go, okay? It helps. It really does help keep my mind off of… everything.”

Adagio chewed on her bottom lip. She wanted to argue, she wanted to insist that Sonata stay. For Seas’ sake, the girl had been temporally reversed out of the jaws of death just a half day ago. Still, when the eldest Siren gazed at her face, she could see that dwelling on such thoughts would not sit very high upon Sonata's priority list. As much as she didn't want to, Adagio knew she had to let her go. “Just… be careful, alright?” she said. “If you start feeling tired or upset, or if your energy begins to feel strange, then come home, Sonata. I mean it!”

Sonata nodded, shooting both of her sisters a bright and clearly forced smile. “Uh huh!” she chirped before making haste out of the room. Before the sound of her footsteps had a chance to fade away, they came rushing back with fervor. The blue girl shot into the attic again, headed straight for her middle sister. Before Aria could protest or dodge out of the way, Sonata had snapped her up into a tight embrace. It all happened so suddenly and ended so abruptly that neither Adagio nor Aria had time to figure how to react.

Before any emotion could process, the youngest girl had lifted her lips to kiss her sister’s cheek. “Remember what I said last night, okay? Love you, Ari,” she wheedled before rising to her feet and jettisoning from the room one more time, leaving her siblings in a stunned silence.

Adagio watched her go whilst Aria attempted to collect her scattered wits into some shoddy display that demanded her eldest sister erase the past twenty seconds from memory. They glared into each other, daring the other to address their youngest sister’s all too simple and frighteningly mortal-like shows of affection.

Adagio was the first to crack a smile, “That goofball. I hope she'll be alright.”

Aria regarded her elder closely. Not being a staunch supporter of public displays of affection or emotional support, it took a while before she cleared her throat, and a little bit longer before the flush faded from her face. “Stop worrying. She'll be fine. She's not as dumb as she looks… and acts… and speaks… and looks.”

“I know,” Adagio sighed. Just as she was prone to do, she hesitated to mention the reason for her constant prodding, and worrying, and favoring of the sprightly blue girl. She opted to turn an interested eye upon Aria, instead.

Aria, noticing this look, crossed her arms. “Is this about the scrambled eggs comment? Cause I'm not sorry,” she stated plainly. “Side question: What did you mean when you told Sonata that we'll be fine if she didn't work for two days?”

“I don't know how many times I have to tell you that it isn't important. Why don't you just let it go?” Adagio sighed.

“No,” Aria protested. “I'm gonna wear you down, Dazzle, if only for my own iniquitous desires to deflect my personal anger onto someone else as a result of my borderline sociopathic tendencies.”

Adagio grimaced at her sister. “What have I told you about reading those psychology books, Aria?”

“Can't help it,” the younger girl shrugged. “There are so many head cases under our roof. The blue one alone is a shrink’s goldmine.”

“Look, we're wasting time here. I just needed to ask you some things about last night that I didn’t get to before. Away from Sonata. She gets upset easily,” Adagio said, twisting one of her curls about her finger. “Give me your hand.”

Slightly put off by the fact that whatever was bothering Adagio was enough to tempt her into using Morse, Aria only tentatively surrendered her palm. “Okaaay.”

Turning off the light upon her phone, and covering both their hands with one of the velvet cloths, Adagio then took a deep breath. “So.” A pause in the code. “I missed what happened to u 2 yesterday. Guessing mage altered time around me?”

“Yea. He froze u and Sonata. Bastard wanted let off steam on my hide. Talked lot of shit. My back still on fire. Wish could perform healing incantations,” Aria said. “Anyway, only reason he released Sonata was to test ring on me. Ass.”

“It hurt?” the elder girl inquired.

“U see mark it left?” Aria quipped. “Hell yea, it hurt. Felt like flash frying my soul.”

“How long was I frozen for?” Adagio continued.

“Maybe—Wait, why u asking all this?” Aria inquired.

“Aria, I'm just hoping…” Adagio halted her coding. Even Aria could sense the gears in her head turning. “The way u looked when I woke...” She could feel Aria’s hand beginning to clench into a fist in her palm. “I… think I'm asking if… If Starshot’s mind still… U know our Song sometimes doesn’t fade from a mortal. Not when we sing full power like did for him.”

“Adagio, just say what have to say. Stop sparing my feelings,” Aria responded, sighing out loud.

Adagio took a deep, frustrated breath. “If songs still seeded in him, they might have adverse effect. But same seed could also help us if moment is right.”

“Ok, Ma. Only been Siren forever. Keep telling me what I already know.”

“Aria, I know u r hurt, but—”

“‘Course I'm hurt,” Aria said. “U see what did to my back? Banged up my face while I was out.”

“U were out,” Adagio coded almost frantically.

“Yea. Not sure how long. Think he cracked tooth. Not a cute one. Premolar or something. Spirits help him if he fucked 1 my canines. Good thing I'm used to jerkoffs like that.”

“Aria, u r used to a lot of things no 1 should be,” Adagio said. With a trembling hand, she gripped onto her sister’s wrist. “I just need know if Song still in him. Did he… Did you sense it?”

There was a long pause in the code. When Aria began tapping again, it was slow, hesitant. “I did. It’s still there. I could smell it in him.” A forced laugh rang out in the dark. “That’s all you ask? If Song still there? I don't believe that. What r u planning?”

“Stockpiling ideas,” Adagio replied.

“Uh huh. Cause it sounds like ur planning get close to him,” Aria shot. “I’m not stupid. I know what ur real question is. Adagio, that route only lead to dead end. Mage is broken. Something missing in him now. Wouldn't let me get close even with Song in his soul. Like he carved those emotions out of himself.”

“Ridiculous. His overcompensating with violence shows his feelings still there. We can break him if have to. I know it,” Adagio said, pulling her hands away before Aria could reply. She didn't want to talk about it anymore, but instead inhaled sharply and shrugged her shoulders.

Aria huffed in the dark. “Fine, Dazzle. Be that way.”

“Aria, you can go now if you—”

“Ah! Not so fast,” Aria clucked. “You have yet to answer my two questions.” She snatched up her sister's hand one more time. “What part does Shimmer play?” she coded into her palm.

Adagio grumbled below her breath. “Told you can't say just yet. Tell you when I can.” When she heard her sister growling in the dark, she clicked her tongue against her teeth. “She’s smart. Remember stories about Fall Formal? Also, those books she always carries. Atypical. Knows magic. Girl like that has friends in high and magical places back in Equestria. Has to be. That is all I'm telling you.”

“You're an ass,” Aria said out loud, clicking on the light of her phone. “You're at least going to tell me how you managed to afford these phones and our temporary vacations. And I'm not taking ‘no’ for an answer.”

The two studied each other in the glow of Aria's phone. The gloomy Siren recognized that look on her sister’s face. It was the look of a woman who knew she was fighting an uphill battle.

Adagio rolled her eyes and heaved. “I sold… I sold my diadem. I got out while you two were sleeping, allowed some old miser to downright rob me blind on the estimate, then went out this morning, and got us the phones. The rest will keep us comfortable for maybe a few weeks. There. Are you satisfied?”

Aria looked shocked. Her lips fumbled for words that had not yet come to mind. “I… What? But… Wait a minute. But that thing is bound to you.”

Adagio smiled weakly toward some distant, unseen place. “I know. It will eventually find its way back to me one day. Hopefully sometime before we kick the bucket.” She passed the smile on to her sister. “But we needed the money. I can do without it for now.”

Aria cleared her raspy throat, and scratched her gray streak of hair. Furrowing her brow, she attempted to come to terms with what she wished to say but could barely manage. “That was… that was a good move, Dazzle.” A tiny sound, like a distant but swiftly approaching train whistle, grew in the back of her throat. When, at last, it had crescendoed into a loud groan, Aria parted her lips. “That stupid thing looked like a ballerina’s worst nightmare. I'm glad you got rid of it. It was fucking dumb.” She crossed her arms and looked away, hating every bit of the knowing smile Adagio was now giving her. After a few seconds had passed she grunted over her shoulder. “Thanks.”

“Mm hm,” Adagio hummed, getting up and dusting her clothing off. Reaching down, she helped Aria to her feet.

“Hey since we're rich as King Bullion now, wanna take me out for a pint at Bubbles?” Aria posed.

“No, I don't,” Adagio muttered, her jaw clenching tight. “That's not what the money's for. Besides, I've got to go prepare some things.”

“Prepare what?” Aria inquired, placing her hands upon her hips.

“Things Aria. Why must you make yourself such a nuisance?” Adagio groaned as she stomped past her sister toward the attic door. “You should go find a quiet spot to think about what it is you’re going to tell that mortal of yours when you finally call her. Preferably tonight.” She chuckled to herself, taking one step down the stairs. “If you weren’t staunchly against anything and everything affectionate, I'd tell you to buy another pack of that crap you're always drinking, go over there, and hash things out with her.”

Aria snorted as she followed her downstairs. “You sure you didn't pawn off a piece of your brain as well, Dazzle? That's the dumbest thing you've said all day.”

A glow of tungsten flickered to life, casting its warm gleam upon unraveling violet silks and chipping gold paint. Adagio took a seat at her desk, closed her eyes, and heaved a long sigh. When her mind had settled into as close to a calm as she could hope for, she reached into her bulging sweater pocket, and pulled out the cheap audio player she had purchased earlier that week. Digging around in her desk drawer through organized and bound stacks of leaves in white and off-yellow, she soon retrieved a pair of earbuds. Plugging them into the device, she then stuck them into each ear. Tapping the play button upon the player, she leaned back into her seat, and clasped her hands over her middle. A rather plain female voice began to speak through the buds in a slightly uncertain but still willing monotone. She didn’t sound as calming as the voice featured in Adagio’s mantras, but on further contemplation, the Siren figured that perhaps that was best.

The Equestria that forged me was not the Equestria that you, your parents, or even their parents were born into. For that you have the two Sisters to thank. The Equestria that ripped my sisters and me apart was a harsh and cruel place, a spread of half-realized lands built upon the phantasmic dreams of the simple-minded, populated by clashing clans who had yet to fully understand themselves or each other. I reason—as much as it is possible for a thing like me to do so—that good fortune was on your side for you to have hailed from a world where the alicorn princess has continued to reign triumphant over every turbulent force that has sought control over our homeland. This includes Siren-kind. Celestia has sacrificed and endured much to maintain a wonderful existence for you. It is beyond my comprehension why a mortal with as good a life as yours would willingly choose to stay in such a forsaken place as this.

Sunset, I want you to know that those born of my time, who still happen to be alive, carry scars. As much as Celestia may try to hide these sad things behind, what I imagine, is still her impishly wise smile, it is true. As I recall it, her sister Luna seemed the type to tell you the cold hard truth. Perhaps you could have asked her had she not been exiled. Is she still up there, I wonder?

But I digress. I've purposely kept my words freeform here so that you might feel the scarred soul and the broken heart in me, just as any of you little temporary creatures might feel it, except that we Sirens are both blessed or cursed to feel them over and over, forever. I suppose you are wondering what this ploy is all for. What new scheme I have hatched to trick you. Well, to answer your question, and to be quite frank, the scheme is to hopefully create between us some small form of understanding. Empathy if that is at all possible. Perhaps then you could understand the moral dilemma of creatures like us who were created both ridiculously powerful and ridiculously naive. Creatures like us who, in our astounding innocence and might, blindly chose to carry ourselves down the path of strife and woe, and in doing so happened to find our purpose.

It’s we chaos eaters and strife makers who forge strong leaders like the two princesses. I venture to say that it is strife that still continues to reveal those noble hearts even now. After all, isn't that what we did for you, Sunset? My point being that both of those energies cannot survive or thrive without the other. As you realized your righteousness because of our power, you unwittingly also dealt us a death blow. I'm not here to place blame or instill guilt like I did before. Those few days ago, I was simply doing what was instinctive for me to do. But if you would not have it, which you didn't, I must be settled with trying another way. That way is to tell you that just as we have helped you to thrive, now there is also an opportunity for you to help us to live, if by the end of this story you are so inclined.

Our journey has been long and hard, but I will try to keep it as succinct as possible. I know we may not look or sound it, Sunset, but believe me when I say that we three are old. And being as old as we are teaches one to quickly adapt to languages and actions of times that may not reflect the burden of our reality. It is for safety’s sake, I suppose, so that we may not reveal our true selves by accidentally revealing the peculiarities within our undying minds. You'd be hard-pressed to wrench these protective masks and costumes away from my sisters so that you might see them for what they truly are. But for you, Sunset, I will personally allow those pretenses to fall away. I will allow you to see what a thing like me truly sees. Something to note: I will mention our beginnings only because I feel it necessary. Don't worry, it is impossible for me to lay out the entirety of our life stories in anythimg resembling a timely fashion. I won’t attempt it.

In truth, we are not immortal. Just like you, we had a beginning, only it was very long ago. And we were not created as Sirens. That is a name the mortals gave us after we became what we became, and after we defined you lot as our food. If a Siren has a natural end, I suppose we may never know. But before this world, before our banishment, before our awakening, even before we wriggled ourselves onto dry land for the very first time, long before the fracturing of the three tribes, perhaps long before ponies formed Ancient Equestria at all, there was in my world nothing but enveloping darkness. I only remember bits and pieces of that time now; that I could sense a bigness and two more souls there with me, alive and waiting. I realized myself first. Then, very soon after, one more shining soul joined me in that dark place, her core burning hot. She told me her name was Aria Blaze though I already knew her and she knew me. It took a while, but eventually Sonata Dusk joined us, too. The entire time, all around us three rolled a Song, and I remember distinctly feeling that besides we three and those gentle lullations, there was nothing more to know of existence. Now, we’re too far removed from that time to question whether we might have been better off left to ourselves...

I Do Not Surrender

Her preparations, as limited as they were forced to be, were finished with haste. Why wait to put her plans into motion when the few who mattered already knew that she and her two younger sisters were in dire straits? Better to get this meeting with Sunset over with a day earlier than scheduled. Efficiency was one of her most cherished personal traits, after all. Also, she was driving herself insane sitting about the house, trying to ignore the mouldering carnage haunting the upstairs bathroom. She couldn’t face the thoughts of the previous evening so soon, and the sunny day beyond her window was beckoning her outside.

A trip to CHS it would be.

Grabbing an array of electronics from her desk, Adagio threw them all into a large shoulder bag—save for her new phone which she pocketed very carefully. Next, she opened the side drawer where she kept her shattered pendant’s lockbox. Pulling the container out, she wrapped it into a loose length of velvet, and gently placed it into the bag. Slipping on her sneakers, she then headed out into the hallway, noting instantly the sound of paper shredding coming from behind Aria’s closed door.

Making her way over, the eldest Siren knocked once, and received no reply. That was to be expected. She tried again. This time a loud sigh seeped out through the edges of the frame. Getting there. She knocked one more time. On the final instance, something akin to a small earthquake rumbled behind the door. Glass clinked, wood crashed, teeth gnashed.

“What?” Aria shouted from inside.

Adagio passed the door a smug grin. “I'm leaving!”

“‘Bout damn time.”

“Aria…”

“Adagio…” the younger girl mocked.

Adagio placed a hand upon her hip. “Listen, I need you to keep your eyes and ears open just in case anything happens.”

“Whatever. Bye.”

“That means no headphones. And keep your phone on!” To this, Adagio received no response. Her eyes narrowed. “I'm going to go meet Sunset, if that matters at all to you.”

“Don't forget the syrup!” Aria cackled from beyond the door.

Rolling her eyes, Adagio turned away and stomped off down the stairs. Armed with her bag, her favorite sweater, and a pair of sunglasses, she stopped behind the front door, and took a deep breath. Reaching up, she undid an elastic band that had encircled her wrist, and collected her long curls back into the “all business, no pleasure” style she had grown fond of lately. “I do not surrender. I only surrender to the process,” she breathed before popping on her shades and snatching the door open. With two confident steps, she moved beyond the threshold.

The early afternoon was sunny, indeed, but then again, that conclusion could have also been influenced by Adagio’s having set foot near Canterlot High School grounds. That place always seemed to exude an aura that reeked of teddy bear farts and rainbows. As far as she was concerned, she had done the school a favor by shaking its goodie-two-shoes student body up a bit, teaching them how good it felt to be a little selfish.

She scratched at her nose, readjusted her shades, and plopped down onto the bus stop bench across the street. Reaching into her sweater pocket, she fished around and removed a small candy sealed in plastic colored to resemble a strawberry. Unwrapping the sweet, she popped it into her mouth. “Spirits. Sonata was right about us being old. Why do I even have these?” She tossed the wrapper over her shoulder, and pushed her attentions back onto CHS’s front lawn. How much longer was this going to take? She had timed her arrival as precisely as possible so as not to give any straggling delinquents too much time to I.D. her. And they wouldn’t if only that blasted final bell would ring.

The toll sounded no sooner than she had willed it to. Though it was supposed to be a welcome sound, the Siren couldn’t help but fidget and slide toward the edge of her seat as it blared on. Her hands clasped and lips drew in tight. It hadn’t yet been a full week since her first meeting with Sunset, and still, as clear as that chiming school bell, Adagio could recall the girl’s warning. It had been quite blatant, actually: “Stay away from CHS. This is your last warning,” Sunset had said. Adagio dared not wonder whether she was subverting her own mission by being here.

“Dweeb, stoner, meathead, future serial killer, future serial killer’s victim...” she prattled off to herself, watching the student body pour out of the front entrance in droves. “Come on, Shimmer. Where are you?”

Her eyes darted about behind her shades, hoping to spy that familiar flash of fiery red and gold. She got her wish a few moments later, but not before the triumph of the girl’s approach was dampened by the most insufferable sight the Siren could have been cursed to endure—a bunny. A cute, fuzzy, little jerk face of a bunny. Its owner, a pink-haired angel-eyed thing—what was her name?—Fluttercry or whatever, skipped along anxiously, babbling something to Sunset. Adagio could only imagine what she was harping on about. “Oh, Sunset. I'm so very grateful that you've agreed to watch my spoiled, little fuzz demon for me tomorrow. I'll be very busy hiding under my bed and crying to myself about what a wimp I am, and somebody needs to follow the brat around, force feeding him carrots,” Adagio mocked, chuckling to herself. She watched Sunset reply and mouthed along with her. “Sure thing, Flutter! I'll do anything, anything to make you trust me again. Just tell me what you need. A nice ass kissing? A good boot licking? Assuage my much deserved burdens of guilt, I beg of you.”

Adagio had to cup a hand over her mouth to hold in her cackle. It seemed like all fun and games until both of the girls turned to face the road.

Her eyes locked with Sunset’s, shaded ruby with turquoise.

Sunset faltered momentarily, her lips fumbling for words as she spun to face her shy companion. Luckily, the bunny-toting dope had yet to see Adagio, and was easily drawn off guard. Sunset’s body language was only slightly frantic as she smiled and ushered her friend away with a wave. But Adagio could see the truth in the green plumes that now snaked off of her hair.

As the shy Rainboom disappeared further on down the road, Sunset’s forced smile faded. The gleam in her eyes darkened. She turned her head to pass the Siren a hateful scowl.

“Ahh, there she is. My favorite type of Sunset—the honest type,” Adagio muttered under her breath, watching the mortal traverse the span of the road without so much as looking for a passing bicycle, “the former hellion of Canterlot High.” She stood and clasped the handles of her bag with both hands as Sunset approached.

“What are you doing here, Adagio?” Sunset spat, jutting out her index finger. “I thought I was being very clear when I warned you to stay away.”

Adagio adjusted her shades, lifted her chin, and forced some calm into her shoulders. “Sunset, I need to speak with you as soon as possible. Today.”

“Listen, you can't be here, alright? We made a deal.”

The Siren gazed off somewhere over Sunset’s head in the aloof way her ancient, noble peers might have whilst a commoner was groveling in their presence. “Our deal or your threat, Sunset?”

“Whatever. It doesn't matter what you call it. It was said, and I expected you to listen.”

“I'll leave right now if you agree to meet with me later on today. Perhaps after sunset, Sunset.” The Siren chuckled. “You couldn't possibly have an evening social life, considering the crew you run about with.”

Sunset folded her arms. “I can’t tonight. We agreed that it would be tomorrow, and that is what I’ve made room for.”

“This isn’t easy for me, you know. To be standing here like this,” Adagio said, biting her lip. Her blanching fists twisted about the handles of her bag. “I'm trying to meet you halfway here.”

Sunset blinked and scoffed. “Adagio, I don't owe you anything.”

The Siren took a deep breath. “I am fully aware of that, Shimmer. I, myself, am one for adhering to plans and schedules. Believe me, I wouldn't be asking this of you if it wasn't absolutely necessary.”

“Adagio?” Sunset said, bringing the tip of her finger close enough to the Siren’s collar for it to tickle her flesh. “Leave. Now. I'll talk to you tomorrow.” The mortal girl adjusted her backpack, and turned to leave.

Adagio stomped her foot upon the pavement, allowing her facade of calm to fall away. “There's a… a bathtub full of my sister’s blood in my house!”

This was enough to stop Sunset in her tracks. She turned about and gave Adagio a look that begged for clarity.

The Siren swallowed with difficulty. “I keep hoping that time, gravity, and eighty year old piping will do the job for me.” She forced a weak laugh. “But it's still there, and I just can’t bring myself to…” Her eyes bored into Sunset’s. “I can't ask either of them to go back in there. Not after what happened.”

Sunset made her way back toward the Siren and stood there holding her breath, trying not to look upset over what she had just heard. “So, they're alright? You all are alright?”

Adagio shook her head. “No. We are alive, but not alright.” She felt the lump growing again in her throat. It was getting too big to swallow. “Sunset, I need to speak with you. Today. P…” she stammered, “Please. I can't tell you everything here, but if you agree…”

Sunset could see the tired state of the Siren’s eyes behind her shades. The corner of her mouth drew upward, pulling her lips thin. She seemed to be fighting some silent war within her own mind. “I've got some things to do right after school, but I can make time after five. How about we meet at that cafe near the middle of town. The one on the end of Brittleburn Drive. You know it? Do you think you can stay safe until then? I want you to tell me the truth.”

Adagio was already nodding, trying to contain a genuine smile of relief that she knew would look too eager, too grateful, too degrading—not that any of that should have mattered at a time like this. “Yea. Yea, I do. Five thirty then?” she sniffed, pulling out her phone, and pushing a few buttons. She made sure to cover the surface with her free hand. “You have a number? Here, put it in.”

Sunset hesitated, lifted her pinky to her mouth, and chewed on its nail. “Yea. I'll take yours, too. And don't be late.”

For the time being, things didn’t seem so bad. Actually, Adagio was feeling rather chipper. The emotion being mostly forced was something she had decided to ignore right along with the fact that, more and more, her fate was beginning to rest solely in the hands, or hooves, or whatever of mortals.

Opting to walk instead of taking the bus, Adagio passed quietly into residential rows. Before long, a feeling had swelled in her chest, not quite her magic but similar. It was akin to the sense that wafted about her whilst she had helped her sisters bandage their wounds earlier that morning, except not as pleasant. It was encased within adrenaline, and anxiousness, and even fear. The Siren forced herself to smile. “Worrying today is borrowing from my tomorrow,” she whispered below her breath. Perhaps one day soon, when she said it, she would actually believe it.

To Tartarus with you, Starshot. This moment is mine and the next, and the next. My life is mine.

She gazed up at the trees. A sense of nostalgia struck her hard; something about the way the spackled light shone through the leaves. It seemed perfect, almost too perfect. Looking ahead, she spotted a bus stop bench further on down the street. Then it hit her. She knew this deceptively perfect-looking block well. It was Striker’s.

That brief overwhelming sense of buzzing awareness grew stronger. She blinked, looked around, and found herself wandering a few steps into the block, away from the main road. She looked down at her feet. They were still moving. Why were they still moving? “Adagio, you aren't a character in some stupid kids movie. He doesn't deserve your guilt, and you certainly don't deserve his forgiveness.” Her feet were still going. “Also, you're a heartless witch. This isn't your style. How do you know you aren't just going to stir up some more trouble?” She was a block away from his home now. “Alright, then, me. I've been warned.”

It took three doorbell rings, and four minutes before Striker answered, and when his face popped out from behind the door, it looked like he had already spent an entire five minutes getting angry. “I'd very much appreciate it if you would refrain from ringing my doorbell, or you know, coming here at all,” he said.

Adagio, ever a noble, kept her head high and her expression detached. “Striker, I’d like to speak with you.”

He looked incredulous, but then again, he had good reason to. “You can’t be serious. Let me guess. You're here to apologize?” The door creaked open wider. “It's too late for that, Adagio. I'm not prepared to forgive you. Ever.”

See? the little voice in her head clucked. Told you so.

“W… well, that's… that's just fine. I wasn’t here to apologize,” she lied. “I'm here to… to explain.”

Striker’s eyes narrowed. “Explain? Explain what? How you completely lost your mind last time? I'm not interested.” He moved to shut the door.

Adagio felt that insufferable ache again tug at the heart she wasn't even supposed to have. She had betrayed this man’s trust, and if she were to be honest with herself, she wasn't altogether sorry about her actions. So, why—she asked herself again and again—was she here? Convincing herself that it was for a selfish reason helped a little bit. Selfish Adagio was the one she knew best.

As she swung her bag between the door and its frame to stop it from closing, it occurred to her that her stinging sense of awakeness and anxiety and aloneness had grown again. She could feel it gushing over. Everything was beginning to feel… That’s it. Feel. And too much. Her memories became too big. Breathing became difficult, and colorful spots began to flash before her eyes. “I… my sisters… you see… we…” Her skin began to prickle. Everything felt hot and cold at the same time. The sounds of the world all faded into a high-pitched ringing. “I… I…” She didn't realize she was falling until the moment her forehead careened straight into carpet.

Thank goodness it wasn't hardwood.

“Adagio, wake up.”

“Why… why should I?” Why should she when nothingness seemed so nice, so quiet, so lacking in pain, blood, and homicidal magicians?

“Because I don't want you to die on my couch,” a familiar voice replied.

“I'm gonna sleep here forever,” she groaned, hoping that the owner of that voice was getting as perturbed as he was making her.

“No, you’re not. You're going to get up, and have some of this.”

“Have some of what?”

“Open your eyes first, and I'll show you.”

“No.”

“Are you sure about that answer?”

“Are you sure you've got the balls to ask me that question, again?”

The man’s voice sighed. “Alright. Don't say I didn't warn you.”

Adagio felt an arm hook beneath her neck and force her up.

“Up you go,” Striker shouted, jostling her about at the shoulders.

How could any Siren continue to sleep under these horrid conditions? Adagio’s eyes fluttered open, preset on anger. “Fine, dammit. I'm up.” She looked around her. Though the room was still spinning a bit, she realized she was now sitting upon Striker’s couch.

That stupid, perfect couch—

“No!” she screamed shaking her head. “Stop it! Stop it!” She repeated this command to herself seven more times before realizing that Striker had moved several paces away, and was now staring at her as if he would very much like to call the police. In his hand, he held a mug full of something steamy.

Adagio’s chest tickled as it did earlier. At first she thought it was a song, then she thought she might throw up, and then the words poured forth. “M… my sister, Aria tried to… she cut herself in our bathtub, and my other sister Sonata, some jerk nearly killed her, and Seas, we’re so far away from home. So weak and far away, and it really is all my fault, and I’ve got to find a way to fix it.” At this splurge of words, Striker’s jaw dropped. He took a step toward Adagio as she rambled on. “I have to fix it or else they'll pay for my mistakes, and I keep trying to hope and tell myself that I've got it under control, but I don't. I don't have anything under control anymore, and I feel so… All I can do is hope. But I despise hope, and haven't truly felt it in the longest time, and I don't know what to do or how to feel, and I’m so lost and dizzy all the time, and—”

A hand rested on her shoulder. It's warmth seemed to steady her entire body, and suddenly she could see again. Turning her head, she saw Striker kneeling beside her, holding out a hot mug of what looked like tea. “Here. Drink this,” he said, and waited until she took the mug to speak again. “I won't tell you that it will make you feel better, but I will say that I think you are having some sort of nervous breakdown or shock or something. So, drink the tea or don't drink it, I guess.”

There was a beat of silence between them. Striker was biting his lip, his expression just short of a fearful wince. Adagio gawked at him, slack jawed and wide-eyed. Her mind was fizzling, but the mug of warm comfort in her hand gradually calmed it. She took a sip from the mug, and felt her shoulders relax. When she pulled the container away from her face, she exhaled. “Is this what it was like? What it felt like all the time?” she asked, her voice wavering. “I can't even remember anymore.”

“Shh. Calm down, Adagio,” Striker said. “Is this how what’s like?”

“What it’s like to be mort…” She stopped herself. This was a bad idea, and these waves of emotion were only blinding her. “You know, when you're someone like me, it's easy to forget how big and long and deep and wide the world is. You wake up to wonders enough times, and it all begins to look mundane. I forgot it was like this, Striker. I forgot the world could feel like a budding flower.” The faintest taste of apples lingered upon her tongue, spawned from nowhere. “I feel like I'm seeing everything again for the first time.”

She looked at him, and when she did, she saw that one of his eyebrows had arched nearly to the middle of his forehead. “Uhh. You just keep sipping on that, Adagio,” he said. “And just try to breathe. It'll calm you down. And the warmth will be good for you.”

She was tired of listening to him undermine her even though she understood why he was doing so. She had to agree that she did sort of sound ‘unwell’. So, she stopped her talking and continued to sip. The tea was kind of good. It did kind of make her feel better… a little.

When she lowered her mug for the final time, Striker was quick to draw it away, and gesture toward the kitchen. “Want some more?”

“No. No, I'm fine,” she murmured, shaking her head, her eyes closed.

“Okay,” he said. Adagio could hear him taking a seat on the floor. “Now, we can talk.” Ironically, a minute passed in silence before he spoke up again. “I… I had no idea about your sisters. I’m sorry that all of this is happening to you.”

Damn. So, she hadn’t hallucinated saying all of those things out loud. “It's…” She was going to say that it was alright, but decided not to disrespect her sisters by lying. “I haven’t been completely honest. I did come here to talk about what happened the last time I was here. I'm not sorry for what I did, mind you. I wanted to make you hurt and question everything as much as I did. But I suppose you didn’t deserve that. I suppose you deserve me at least saying that you didn't deserve that.”

Striker didn’t smile nor did he act upon any of the other irritating emotions a noble-hearted mortal like him was prone to. He rested his chin upon his knuckles, and cleared his throat. “That is as close to an apology as I'm going to get from you, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Adagio said, smirking.

“Fine. Then I suppose since we’re both being honest, that I can say this.” He cracked his knuckles and swallowed. “You're beautiful, Adagio. You're the type of girl that… that makes a hundred lives miserable every time you make one happy. But you knew that, or else you wouldn't have done what you did.” He tried to force a laugh before realizing it was terribly timed. “What I'm trying to say is that you crossed a line that I can’t accept because you’re you. What happened last time, can’t happen again. Alright? Regardless of if you did it because you were hurting.” He looked at the floor. “I know you don't believe me, but I understand what it's like to hurt. Clearly not as much as you do, but I can see how we could get here.”

Adagio gave a thoughtful hum, sliding a hand back over her bundled hair. “Fair enough. So, does that mean you still want piano lessons?”

“Uh. No,” Striker deadpanned. “Our time together like this is over, Adagio. But, I suppose if it's an emergency, if you really do need help, that you can tell me.”

He smiled. In that moment, something about it struck Adagio as familiar. She felt her heart skip, and heat rise up into her cheeks. Where had she seen that grin before?

“Can I ask you something then? Since we’re being honest and all,” she said, tipping her chin onto her index finger, trying not to delight in the nervous look about him. She could at least do him the favor of denying her natural instinct to be mischievous just this once. “All of those pretty things that you just said about me, is that how you felt last time?”

It took an entire minute for him to answer. When he did, his response was clear. “It was.”

“Hm. And what about right now?” the Siren prodded.

“Still is.”

Adagio smirked. Striker was purposely being short with her.

Rolling his eyes, the man leaned back onto his arms. “Look, Adagio, I don't expect you to understand what it's like to choose to make a life with somebody else. Single people usually don’t get it.”

Dragonshit. You don't know me, Striker, Adagio thought. She imagined the words in Moonstone’s voice, and nearly burst out into cackles. Cupping a hand over her lips, she stifled herself.

“Most days I remember why I'm the luckiest person in the world to have Cathy and Tess…” He was hesitating.

“And on other days?” Adagio inquired, drawing her knees up to her chest.

“Well... on other days...” His fingers tapped into the carpet. He looked thoughtful, almost regretful. “Look. Ultimately, it's all a choice, Adagio. Making it work with someone all depends on whether both people want it to work. That's how it keeps working. That's how it stays happy.”

Dragonshit, Adagio thought again. This time the voice in her head was her own, and was nowhere near amused. She wanted to yell at him, to ask him what he knew being a puny, short-lived mortal. She wanted to tell him that sometimes no matter how hard you hope, and wish, and try, the person you love is just obtuse, or cold, or preoccupied. Sometimes one’s desire to ‘make it work’ didn't work. Sometimes it was the better choice to let them go, to try something else.

“What kind of day was it last time?” she asked him. She would have been a liar if she told herself she wasn't being a little vindictive about it. “Was it one of those days or one of those other days?” She could see him growing flustered, and the bit of green seeping out of the top of his head answered her question even though he never did.

She smiled. “Cathy is lucky to have you. There was a time I would have given anything to have the one I loved return my affections. There was also a time that I thought I'd found reciprocation with someone else. But for all the trying in the world, we couldn't make it work. It was like the universe never intended for any of us to be together, just intended for us all to hurt.” A pair of purple eyes flashed across her mind. She felt warm. Perhaps that chamomile was beginning to kick in, because when she next looked at Striker’s eyes, she couldn't tell the difference between them and the beloved pair forever seared into her memory.

She slid her way onto the floor to sit before him. One cautious hand rested upon his shoulder. She watched him frown.

“Adagio…” he began.

“I know,” she said. “I know what this looks like, but just give me five minutes, alright? Can I just pretend for five minutes?”

“Pretend?” he asked, just in time for her to lunge forward, wrapping both of her arms about him. Pressing her face into his chest, she breathed in the smell of him, and imagined what it would be like if she could call a wonderful smell like that her own. She resisted crying. There had already been too much of that over the past couple of days. “Put your arms around me,” she said. It sounded like more of a plea than a command. “That's all. I promise, nothing more. Just five minutes.”

She felt nothing at first, and then suddenly, she was enveloped in warmth and comfort and happiness… and unhappiness… and envy… and a powerful heartache. She frowned and sighed into Striker’s shirt. “Thank you. I don't deserve your kindness. Things are just very difficult for me right now.”

“I'm sorry for that, Adagio. I'm sorry things are so rough.” He rubbed her back tenderly. “And hey, if you ever feel like talking more about it, like I said, I'll be around.” A pause. “Buuut preferably let's not meet here again. For… reasons.”

Adagio blinked, then began to laugh. “Today one of those other days?” she asked, her forehead still leaning against his chest.

Striker sighed. “Every day with you is going to be one of those other days, Adagio,” he confessed. “That's why I'm only extending my help to you in serious situations, alright?”

Adagio felt a painful pang in her heart again, but managed to nod her head. “I understand.”

“Do you feel just a little bit better?” he asked.

“Actually, yea. I do.”

“Okay, good, because your five minutes are up,” he chuckled. “And I'm beginning to enjoy this a bit too much.”

“Alright, alright, fine,” Adagio sighed, raising her head. When they smiled at each other, a bolt of electricity hopped between their eyes. A jolt ran down to the Siren's toes. She could tell that he felt it, too.

“I… I wish…” she began.

“Hey. Don't say it,” he replied, shaking his head.

“You don't even know what I was going to say,” Adagio murmured. Their faces had moved closer together until their foreheads touched. Then their noses.

“Yes, I do,” Striker replied, wrenching himself away from her. “Adagio,” he croaked, stumbling to his feet. “I think… you've got to go, now.”

He was conflicted. Adagio could tell because of the green smog now encircling his head. She sat there a while longer, continuing to lament the loneliness of her own existence. Then, eventually, she rose to her feet. “Alright. I understand.” Turning to collect her bag, she straightened her rumpled sweater, and headed toward the door. “Thanks for your time, Striker.”

_____________

In hindsight, coffee was a bad choice. The cold cup of bitter drink sat beside a more recently purchased container of hot chamomile. Behind them both, Adagio’s jittering hands lay clenched upon the table. The sun had mostly set, making it difficult to watch for Sunset Shimmer out of Mocha Joe’s cafe window. Adagio’s eyes darted to and fro as unknown after unknown passed by the glass.

The corner of the cafe where she was sitting was relatively quiet considering the trendy early evening crowd had gathered in full force to pretend they had important reasons to be there. Just a bit of solitude was the best the Siren could hope for at a time like this, but she wondered just how much longer it was bound to last. Tapping her fingers, she took another sip of tea, then pulled out her phone to check the time.

5:38. Where was Sunset?

Trying to hold together just a bit of resolve, Adagio forced down the nagging thought that perhaps she was being stood up, or worse yet, something had happened to Sunset. What if Starshot had deemed it necessary to stop their meeting from happening? What if he had done something terrible to the girl? What if—

Stop it, Adagio. Seas, if Aria and Sonata knew how much you’d begun to doubt yourself lately, they'd never let you live it down.

“Breathe in, breathe out,” she murmured. Covering her face with her hands, she tried to drown out the sounds of people talking, orders being called, horrible “atmospheric” music, and footsteps scurrying over cheap tile. That strange, anxious, empty feeling was growing stronger by the moment. “Please let her be alright,” she mumbled into her palms. “I don't know what else to do if she's not.”

“If who isn’t alright?” a familiar voice asked.

Adagio’s eyes shot open, and nearly teared up at the sight of retina-burning shades of red and yellow. Spirits be praised, I never thought I'd be so happy to see such a tacky color combo. “Shimmer! You made it!”

“Yea, I did,” the fiery-haired girl said, dropping her bag onto the ground, and sliding into her seat. “Sorry I'm late. Had to run some errands for Fluttershy and got behind.”

Adagio grimaced at the mention of the Rainboom member’s name. “Oh? Shame. Good thing you didn't have more important matters to attend to, right?” She inspected her nails. “Like matters of life or death or something.”

Sunset rolled her eyes. “Adagio, I've said before that I don't owe you anything. I'm here because you begged me to be.”

Adagio’s eyes went wide, her nostrils flared. “I did no such thing,” she gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. If she had been wearing pearls they would have most certainly been clutched into oblivion. “I simply requested that—”

“Are we really going to do this, Adagio?” Sunset asked, reaching down into her bag and pulling out a notebook. “I thought you said you were in trouble.”

“I… We are, but—”

“Alright, then. We better not waste anymore time.”

Adagio huffed. “Fine,” she growled, plopping her bag onto the tabletop and upending its contents. Out from the satchel poured a notebook, her portable audio player, an audio splitter jack, and two pairs of earbuds. Plugging the audio splitter into the player, she sat the small box upright, plugged both pairs of earbuds into the splitter, then handed one set to Sunset. The other, she put in her own ears. “Ok, listen up, Shimmer. This is gonna be a long, wild ride. Three and a half hours long to be precise. You're so lucky that I know how to be economic with my words when I feel like it. You listen, say nothing, and utilize the information you hear, to ask me questions afterward by writing them down. Under no circumstance are you to ask me a question about or refer to any of what you hear out loud. Got it?”

“Umm. Okay?” Sunset croaked. Adagio was frightening whilst her mind was preoccupied with one of her schemes.

“Good,” the Siren said.

“B… but can I get a coffee fir—”

“No.” Adagio pushed play, and sat back in her seat, her eyes plastered upon Sunset. Poor little mortal. To someone who had lived as long as Adagio, three hours was but a blip in time. She couldn't imagine what stray thoughts were now beating against Sunset’s skull, trying to remind her that life was limited. This session would probably prove torturous for her.

Adagio cracked a smile.

We’ve lived many lifetimes, and have been given many opportunities for greatness within those lifetimes. I think that if we are to die, it would be alright. Sonata, would probably object to that sentiment at first, but given time, I believe she'd come around to the same conclusion. Dying wouldn’t feel so wrong, I'm sure, if we were to go the way a Siren should. Admittedly, I don't know what that is or how it would look, but it most certainly wouldn't be because we were killed. Not by time mages and not because of our broken jewels. If you look at my sisters and me, I know that you would be able to see that what is happening to us is not natural. It isn't right. We hurt. We starve. We cannot defend ourselves, and it pains to even try. If I don't discover a way to heal our magic, our end will surely be horrible. And I cannot accept such an ending for my sisters. They don't deserve that. Not after all they've endured.

Which brings me to you, Sunset. I remember what I've heard about you, and I know what I've seen. You are from Equestria. You know how to wield a magic that is rivaled only by the Princess. The magic you used on us at the concert reminded me of the type of magic that defeated King Discord so long ago, which leads me to believe that it is similar if not the same. To put it plainly, I believe you know the Princess, Sunset. I believe you have her ear. I know that what I ask of you is not small or simple, but try to understand our urgency.

Ask Celestia to allow us back home to Equestria. We have to heal ourselves at the place where we began. If not, we perish.

Sunset, our pasts may have had nothing to do with each other, but I can say without exaggeration that our future, our lives now depend on you.

The recording ended with the orator giving a shaky, startled sigh. Adagio, completely unmoved, was still staring. By this time, Sunset was hunched forward upon her forearms, head bowed in meditation. When she looked up, her eyes glistened with fresh understanding.

“What kind of coffee would you like?” the Siren asked. “I imagine you've got a few questions.”

Adagio shifted the velvet piece covering her notebook just enough to fit her phone underneath. Reading the question scribbled upon it by phone light, she gave a great huff and rolled her eyes. “Shimmer, are you really going to continue asking me these useless questions?”

“Oh, so we can talk about this one out loud, then?” Sunset asked, looking alert despite the creases beneath her eyes. "So, what did my energy smell like when we were on the bus?”

Flustered by the mortal girl’s enthusiasm, Adagio stuttered, “Uh… w-well, it umm… You smelled like, um… Seas, Shimmer, I don't know. You smelled like apprehension. There's no comparison for it, okay?”

“But it smells like food?” Sunset asked.

“Well, uh. To us. It isn't like your food.”

“But it wouldn't smell like food to me?”

“Actually, sometimes it does. It just depends on the mortal. Sonata has a friend who smells like—”

“Ooh! What do I smell like right now?”

“Shimmer!” Adagio shouted, pounding her fist against the table. Every cafe patron within a five foot radius turned to stare. Tiredly, Adagio allowed her forehead to hit the tabletop and let out an irritated groan. “Can we please talk about something important?”

“I'm sorry, Adagio,” Sunset began, sounding the tiniest bit amused. “It's just that, all of this is so fascinating. I wish there were creatures like you to study back in Equestria. I would’ve loved to research your biology.”

Adagio raised her head to shoot the girl a withering glare. “Wanna cut me open like a frog, Shimmer? Poke around in my guts? See what makes me tick?”

Sunset waved her hands. “Oh, no. I didn’t mean it like—”

“A real question. Now,” Adagio commanded. A moment later, she was reading more of Sunset’s notebook scribbles beneath velvet. She smiled this time, shoved her pencil-holding hand beneath the cloth, and began to write.

‘Starshot is blinded by his own need to despise us. He cannot fathom that we can feel or that we might have once been just like him. Thus, he does not suppose we could have ever been anything except for large, frightening creatures that feed off of mortal energy.’

Finishing her reply, Adagio covered the note, and slid it in Sunset’s direction. The girl devoured her words hungrily, her eyes wide, attentive. A moment later, she was writing her reply.

‘That's good. That gives you time. At least you know he can't alter your present existence.

I want to help you, Adagio. Especially after listening to what you three have been through. But, I can't pretend as if I would feel alright doing it. You three have done some horrible things. And if what you told me about Princess Luna is true, then… I don't know. I still don't know if Celestia has forgiven me. It might be impossible for me to even ask if she has forgiven you.’

Drawing the notebook over, Adagio read the reply then frowned. “Oh,” she croaked. “I see.”

This news was truly upsetting. But then again, Adagio had suspected that Sunset must have thoroughly pissed off the one pony in Equestria that nopony wanted to piss off. Why else would she continue skulking around a world like this if she didn't have to?

Either way, perhaps it was time to push a little harder. Adagio hated that she had to resort to manipulative tactics with Sunset again, but her sisters would always have to be her first priority. Their lives were unquestionably worth one little scheme. “Well, alright then,” she sighed, beginning to pack her things. “If you really can’t do anything, then I suppose that’s that.”

Sunset’s eyes fluttered. She bolted upright in her seat. “W… wait. You're just gonna leave?”

“I suppose so, Shimmer. We get anxious nowadays when one of us doesn't show up for dinner. You understand.”

“But… but what about everything you've just told me? What about that… you know who?”

Adagio forced a perturbed smirk. “What about him? What about any of it? It’s over Shimmer.” She slipped her bag strap over her shoulder. “At this age, I've learned to recognize when I'm beat. I've learned how to bow out with a little grace. Why not pull the thorn instead of just hoping it will grow out in who knows how long?”

“Adagio, you can't be serious,” Sunset breathed. “After all you've been through, you're willing to just let it end like this?”

“It’s called using limited time wisely. I’d prefer to not spend whatever I've got left worrying over something that cannot happen. You were my chance, Sunset, and you said you can’t help, and now we’re done. Simple.”

Stunned, Sunset pondered upon the Siren’s words while watching her walk away and out of the door. Before she could get far, the fiery-haired girl raised her fists, and pounded them upon the table. Standing up, she grabbed her things, and raced outside to block Adagio’s path. “No! How could you say that, Adagio?”

“Because I tried, Sunset. I tried, and now I'm tired. There's nothing more I can ask of myself. I'm not ashamed to admit that I failed. I hate admitting it, but I'm not ashamed of it. I have no regrets for calling it quits. I did all that I could.”

“Well, I'm not quitting, Adagio. And if I can continue to hold out hope as a mortal, then so can you as a Siren! I'll figure this out,” Sunset insisted.

“Is that right?” Adagio asked, placing a hand upon her hip, and giving Sunset a patronizing smile. “And what, exactly, is left as an option?”

“Well, I…” Sunset wrestled with her own thoughts.

Adagio forced down a grin. Come on, Shimmer. Give me a lead.

“I will…” Sunset said, tapping her palm against her forehead.

“Yes?” Adagio pressed.

The girl gasped and froze to the spot. Adagio studied her, waving a hand in front of the girl's eyes just to be sure no one had casted a time spell upon her. “Shimmer?”

Sunset collapsed down to her knees at once, digging through her backpack for her notebook and pen. When she found it, she flipped to a fresh page, removed her jacket, then used it to cover the book as she wrote.

The Siren licked her lips with anticipation as the girl practically shoved the bundle toward her. What would Sunset do? Take her straight to the portal right now, perhaps? Sneak her through to Equestria? Speak to another mage who knew dimensional magic? Eyes wide, Adagio lifted the edge of the cloth and peeked beneath.

‘I'll write a letter!’ it said.

Adagio read the sentence again. Her eyes narrowed. “What?”

“Just… keep reading,” Sunset urged.

‘The Equestrian princess who helped us defeat you, who even helped to defeat me, we're goods friends now. And she is great friends with Princess Celestia. We keep correspondence through letters. I could tell her your story, and see what she thinks about asking Celestia about you!’

Adagio grimaced. Letter writing to ask permission from the somepony who was a friend of the somepony they needed to ask permission from? All this was too sloppy and too drawn out. It didn't sound feasible in whatever short time she had left. “Shimmer, what is this?” she asked, drawing out her pen to write her reply. ‘If you know another willing princess, then she could just get us to Equestria herself.’

“N… no, Adagio. It can’t work that way,” Sunset said after reading her message. She picked up her pen. ‘I can't step on any toes. Hooves. You know what I mean. We've got to work on getting you back into everypony’s good graces. It will take time.’

“Funny you should say that, Shimmer,” Adagio scoffed, “considering that time is the one thing that we no longer have.” Again, she began to write. ‘It has to be quick. Or else something bad will happen. Is that what you want?’

“No!” Sunset protested, flailing her hands out in front of her. “Of course I don't want that!”

‘SO GET HER TO DO IT,’ Adagio wrote, tapping her knuckle against the jacket covered book for emphasis.

Reading this reply, Sunset’s usually bright eyes grew grim. “Adagio, I said I can’t.”

“Why not?” Adagio shouted, motioning wildly with one arm. “Aren't you the one full of dreams, and hopes, and ideas? I thought there was nothing you couldn't do.”

“I’ve… I've learned my limitations. I've learned to respect others’ boundaries. I've worked so hard to regain the trust of those I've betrayed, and I refuse to ruin all of that effort by panicking with you.”

Adagio blinked, then scoffed. “Oh. I get it now. This isn't so much about us as it is about little, reformed Sunset Shimmer not wanting to offend anyone. I should have guessed.”

“You keep putting words in my mouth, Adagio,” Sunset growled.

“How? Why, when I don't even have to?” Adagio shouted. “You just made it clear as day what your first priorities are.”

“Yes!” Sunset shouted. “To my friends and acquaintances. You and your sisters are neither, Adagio, but I'm still willing to help you!”

“But only at a pace that suits you,” the Siren quipped.

“Adagio, take it or leave it,” Sunset barked with a stomp of her foot. “Do you want me to do this for you or not?”

Seeing the girl so angry startled Adagio back into reality—the reality where it was best to stay on Sunset’s amicable side lest she call the whole thing off. Begrudgingly, the Siren nodded her head. “Fine, Shimmer.” She shrugged. “What other choice do I have, right?”

A letter. A spirits-damned letter. We'll be dead by the time any of this pans out. Time for Plan B, I guess.

“There's something else I wanted to show you, though,” Adagio said. “I came here thinking that I'd get my way as usual,” she said, forcing a laugh as she dug into her bag. “I thought that perhaps giving this to you would help you or one of your lofty friends figure something out for us.” Drawing her hand out of the bag, she revealed to Sunset the beautifully carved wooden case in which she kept her pendant shards. Unlocking the box with her key, she revealed the remnants of her Sirenhood to the girl.

Sunset gasped upon seeing the shards, instinctively taking a step back. “Is… is that…”

“It is,” Adagio said, quickly locking the box again, and holding it out for Sunset to take. “I want you to give it to whoever you think is best qualified to have it. Maybe it will help them figure things out. I want you to promise me that you'll at least do that as soon as possible. Alright?”

“Adagio…” Sunset breathed. “I can’t take this away from you.”

“Why not? You've already done it once before. At least this time I'm telling you it’s alright.”

The two stood there in silence, Sunset glancing down at the box, Adagio studying Sunset. The Siren fought down a smile. Once again, she had caught Sunset by the heartstrings.

“Please, Shimmer. Just do this one thing for me. It may be the last thing I ever ask of you.”

Hesitantly, Sunset reached out and took the box into both hands. She held it stiffly, looking as if she were holding a newborn baby.

“Relax, will you?” Adagio sighed, shaking her head. “You can’t break it twice… At least I don't think you can. Who knows with you, Shimmer. You just might find a way.”

“S’not funny, Adagio,” the mortal girl grunted, carefully moving to place the box in her bag.

Adagio smiled. “Alright, I'll stop. But you will do this for me as soon as possible, won’t you?”

Sunset thought to herself whilst she zipped up her bag. She appeared to have come to a decision by the time she stood up straight. “I think I’ll be able to do that, sure,” she said. “I'll ask first, and see what happens. But the rest of it, you leave up to me to try to hash out. Deal?”

Now the Siren was grinning. The little mortal hadn’t even noticed what hit her. Holding out her hand for a shake, Adagio waited until Sunset clasped onto her before drawing the girl in and wrapping her arms about her shoulders.

Sunset’s entire body stiffened in Adagio’s grasp. It was like hugging a block of ice. Determined to keep up her show of sweetness, Adagio rested her chin on her shoulder. “I've gotta go. The girls are probably waiting up for me. But thanks, Shimmer. Thanks so much for helping me. For helping us.”

Sunset briefly returned her embrace without saying a word. Coughing with embarrassment, she pulled away and stared up toward the stars. Her cheeks had gone all red.

“You're welcome, Adagio.”

_______________

Adagio Dazzle was a noble. Well, maybe not a noble, but definitely genteel. Alright, maybe not genteel, but unequivocally she was a lady. Regardless, she most certainly was above hiding in bushes like some highwayman.

Aw, come on, Shimmer. Finish writing in that stupid book, and do something already! I think I'm standing on an anthill.

The exterior of Canterlot High was a tough place to find a hiding spot. Some countryside contractor with big suburban dreams had displayed his inferiority complex all over the place by shaving down every piece of vegetation—save for just two trees—within an entire block’s radius. The only things surrounding the building were its large track and field on its western side, and a recreational lawn spattered with a few outdoor lunch tables on the east. That was where Adagio had decided to hide after tailing Sunset back through town and toward the school. The evening darkness helped to conceal her behind the shadow of the single oak on CHS’ property. From where Sunset was sitting alone on the school’s wide, stone steps, Adagio was certain she would never be able to spot her.

The mortal was currently preoccupied anyway, far too busy with scribbling something inside of the strangest-looking tome Adagio had ever seen a high school student possess. It was large and brown, and depicted something on the front cover that she couldn't quite decipher in the dark. What was so damned important that Sunset needed to be doing this here and now?

A thought occurred to the Siren, an obvious one: Perhaps this was what she had been hoping to witness. Perhaps that tome was an avenue of communication for Sunset’s contact back in Equestria. But how could she know for sure?

As if her thoughts were heard by some unseen power, a purple glow emanated from the book where it sat on Sunset’s lap covered by a piece of cloth, just as Adagio had taught her. The Siren’s eyes glistened with wonder. “Equestrian magic,” she breathed. “How is she using it?” It seemed a silly question after she reminded herself that there was a high probability that a portal to Equestria was located on CHS grounds. She bit her lip, and hunkered back down to wait some more. If her assumptions were correct, and her plan was successful, she would discover its location soon enough.

Ten minutes later, Sunset’s book let off another powerful glow. She read from it intently, as if she’d never before seen whatever was written upon the page.

“Ah, because she hasn’t,” Adagio whispered to herself. Still, that book was no portal, and the Siren began to question whether Sunset would fall for her trick at all.

Adagio inhaled sharply when Sunset tucked the book back into her bag, and retrieved the box containing her pendant. Standing quickly, the girl headed off down the school steps.

Yes, yes, yes!

This was it. The moment she had been waiting for. Of course, relaying messages by magical means could utilize a variety of methods, and Sunset obviously had found hers in that strange book. What was a bit more difficult to do, however, was delivering a very specific item to Equestria, something that couldn't be reproduced like words could. Her shattered pendant was one of a kind, and teleportative telekinesis was an energy zapper, even in Equestria. Wherever Sunset was delivering that box, she would have to do it the old fashioned way, directly, by hand, and hopefully right in front of the portal.

Adagio watched on as Sunset walked the front path of the school, directly up to the monument that stood in the center of the pathway. Her eyes widened and lips sealed together when Sunset dropped her bag before the large sculpture, and proceeded to wait.

“No. It couldn't possibly be that obvious,” Adagio breathed, shaking her head.

It was. A moment later, the back panel of the statue began to glow in white, a swirled pattern churning at its center. The Siren clasped a hand over her mouth to keep from gasping as she watched one purple leg, two purple arms, and an extraordinarily outdated fashion ensemble make its way out of the statue stone. “Oh, you've got to be freaking kidding me,” she groaned into her palm. “That’s the little bitch from the concert!”

“Twilight!” Sunset chirped, attempting to keep her volume at an acceptable level for the time of evening. She lunged forward at once, collecting the Equestrian girl up into a warm embrace. “It's so good to see you, again! How is everyone?”

Twilight chuckled. “I’m happy to see you, too, Sunset! Everyone is just fine.” She reached into a satchel she’d been carrying at her side, and pulled out a book twice as large as the one Sunset had been writing in a moment prior. “Here, I brought this for you. It's a compendium of studies on Equestrian sea life. No Sirens, I'm afraid, but you sounded enthusiastic about it in your letter, and since my library had quadruplicate copies, I figured, eh, why not?”

Adagio could see Sunset’s eyes light up in the most nauseating way.

“Oh, wow, Twilight. Thank you. You definitely did not”—she nearly keeled over when Twilight dropped the heavy compendium into her hands—“have to do this.”

“What do you mean? Of course I did! Do you realize how rare of an opportunity you've given me? A chance to conduct a comprehensive study on a genuine Siren’s biological jewel!”

Adagio's eyes narrowed as she watched Twilight begin to giggle wildly and hyperventilate all at the same time.

“Why, it's totally unheard of! Can you imagine the magical advances Equestria would make because of this? Oh, I can't wait to present my findings at the lecture hall in—”

“Whoa, Twilight! Slow down there a little bit,” Sunset cautioned, placing a steadying hand upon the girl’s shoulder. “You're going to pass out like last time. Besides, remember I said this has to be of the utmost secrecy until we can figure out what's going on. Perhaps come to a decision.”

Perhaps? Adagio thought.

“Oh. Right. Of course. I remembered that!” Twilight very clearly lied, unable to mask the disappointment in her voice. “I meant after all of this is over with, naturally.”

“So, you'll do it, then?” Sunset beamed, skipping in place a few times. “You'll speak to Princess Celestia for me?”

“Definitely! But if I'm to be completely honest with you, Sunset, I think it would be a message better delivered by you… for all of the obvious reasons.”

Sunset visibly shrank. “Oh, really?” she mumbled, looking away. “And what would those be?”

Noting her friend’s apprehension, Twilight stepped forward to place a hand on her shoulder. “Sunset, I really do believe that Celestia is ready to see you again. Hay, she forgave you a long time ago. I just wish you'd learn how to completely forgive yourself. Look at all of the progress you've made since we met!”

Sunset shirked away from her friend's touch. “I know, Twilight. But I… I just need more time. I'm just not ready yet.”

You're not ready? You need more time? Adagio shrieked internally. My life is on the line here!

“I understand,” Twilight said, nodding her head, and collecting the Siren’s pendant box. “But just know that when you are ready, we can speak to the Princess together.”

“You… you'd do that for me?” Sunset asked.

“Of course. That's what friends do, isn't it?” Twilight replied, collecting the girl back into one more embrace.

Far too busy gagging behind a tree trunk, Adagio nearly missed her name come up in discussion.

“So, about Adagio and the other Sirens,” Sunset sighed, feeling redeemed. “Do you think the Princess is prepared to forgive them, too?”

Twilight appeared pensive. “I really haven't the slightest idea. The only ones who would have a gauge on that would be the Princesses and the Sirens themselves. But basing my assumptions on what the Royal library’s single copy of ‘Lost and Elusive Creatures from Equestrian Lore’ says, I'm leaning more towards ‘no, she's not ready.’”

“Drat,” Sunset spat, tapping her cheek with a finger.

“What those three did to the Princesses, to Equestria… Well, let’s just say it's asking a lot to trust them entering our realm again.”

“I know, I know,” Sunset sighed. “But, I promised. I wouldn't have done it if I didn't think there was potential in them to be good. I can see it. I know it's there. It's just their, I don't know, their biology that’s in the way.”

“Hmm. Well, I trust your judgment, Sunset. If you can see potential in them, then I know that will weigh heavily in the Sirens’ favor if… when the Princesses make a decision.” Her brow was knit as she said this. Something else was clearly weighing on her mind.

“But?” Sunset inquired.

“Buuut, if you ask me—and ya kind of did,” Twilight gibed, nudging Sunset with her elbow, “I think attempting to circumvent their nature might not necessarily be the proper way to go. Especially if with their biology out of wack, they look as sickly as you say they do.”

Sickly? The word echoed against the walls of Adagio’s skull. We most certainly do not look ‘sickly,’ you little oaf! Just… tired. Let's see how good you look when a homicidal mage suddenly appears in your bathroom in the middle of the night!

“But then how else, Twilight? We can't allow them back home knowing that they have to wreak havoc to survive,” Sunset asked.

Twilight hummed thoughtfully. “You know, I think they were doing more than surviving back then. I think they were thriving… excessively.” She gently placed Adagio’s pendant box into her satchel, preparing to leave. “Perhaps their ‘survival’ would look a little different than what we would expect. I'm not really sure without getting to conduct a little more research, myself. But I trust you can figure it out.” She passed her friend one more warm smile. “Anyway, I've really got to get going. When I left, Spike was saying something about Pinkie promising to bake some molten gem cupcakes for him in the castle kitchen.”

“Yea, that doesn't sound very safe, does it?” Sunset chuckled.

“It definitely does not. But it was nice seeing you again, Sunset. Maybe, next time you'll be paying me a visit?”

“Hm. I guess we’ll see,” Sunset replied, waving her friend off as she stepped through stone. “Keep in touch, Twilight!”

“I will!” Twilight shouted before forcing half her body back out of the portal, and frantically waving her arm about. “Oh! I almost forgot I marked some chapters in that compendium that I thought you'd get a kick out of don’t worry it's magical ink and will fade once you read the page I'd neverdamage a book that way but check it out okay because there’s this one chapter on sea vegetation and their magical and nutritional properties that I thought would really come in handy if—” Unable to withstand the force of the portal, Twilight was still talking by the time her head was swallowed up by transdimensional light.

Sunset, shaking her head, continued to wave until the light had again faded to nothing. “Nobody quite like Twilight,” she chuckled to herself staring down at the enormous tome still clutched in her hands. Turning around, she hoisted it back toward the steps, somehow managed to fit it into her bag, and lifted the weighted thing onto one shoulder. “Man, I'm going to have one heck of a backache tomorrow.”

From her spot behind the old oak tree, Adagio watched Sunset dig her phone out of her jacket, turn it on, and begin to type something into it with her thumb whilst covering the contents of the screen with her free hand. What was she doing? Was she texting someone?

Then it hit her. Racing to draw her phone out of her sweater pocket, Adagio switched the device to silent mode just in time to receive Sunset’s text message. Breathing a sigh of relief, she covered the screen, opened her inbox, and read the message from beneath the side of her palm.

‘Pendant and request for passage to Equestria delivered. Here's hoping it works. :) ’

Adagio rolled her eyes, but continued reading.

By the way, you should stay in touch! I just so happened to acquire a book on Equestrian sea life that I was hoping, perhaps, you'd be interested in going over with me for the sake of—”

The Siren deleted the message without finishing. “Dweeb,” she muttered, putting her phone away and looking out into the distance. Sunset had left, and everything had again gone dark. Now was her chance!

Darting out from behind the oak tree, she made her way toward the statue. Crouching in its shadow, she took one more precautionary look around the square before rounding to kneel before the panel where the portal was located.

Tentatively, she reached out with a finger, and placed it against the stone. When she saw that nothing was happening, she laid one palm flat, then the other. The stone felt warm. She could hear a low frequency whooping sound escaping from between its borders. Yet, still nothing was happening. “How does this thing work anyway?” she grumbled. Frustrated, she balled her hands up into a fist, and pounded the panel until her knuckles hurt. “Come on! What’s the problem? Does it need an incantation or something?”

Pebbles skittered underfoot at her back. She felt someone’s breath over her shoulder.

“I’ve found that access to intradimensional pathways are only a constant in planes where magic already exists,” murmured a raspy voice at her back.

Slipping onto her side in shock, Adagio shuffled away until her back hit stone. “Who… who are you?” she barked, staring up into a pair of burning gold eyes surrounded by blueish-gray.

Starshot smiled, and bent forward so that his face caught the moonlight. “Give it a moment. You'll remember in a second.”

Adagio’s brow furrowed. Blue hair, gold eyes, blue-gray skin. Obviously had knowledge on time and dimensional magics. He did look a little different without hooves and a muzzle, but in hindsight, it should have been obvious. “Starshot,” she breathed.

“Good to see you again, Adagio,” the wizard said, jokingly offering a hand to help her up.

Slapping the appendage away, Adagio shot up to her feet, and advanced upon the wizard without fear. “So, you think all this is funny, do you? You think you’re so damn clever.” She stood before him, nearly nose to nose. “Well, you're not the only one with a trick or two up their sleeve. Mark my words, mage, there will soon come a day when it will be my turn to laugh at you.”

“So you say,” Starshot smiled, unbothered. “But I can tell you one thing. That day is surely not going to be today.”

Adagio cocked an eyebrow. “W… what are you talking about?”

This time, the wizard chuckled. “Oh, you'll see when you get home. Unless you really do prefer to hear it now.”

A growl emanated from the Siren’s core. She lunged forward to snatch Starshot by the collar. “What… did… you… do?”

“Easy there, creature,” the mage snarled, his smile now gone. “Wouldn’t want to annoy me. Then I might not tell you where your kin have gone.”

Adagio’s eyes went wide. Her grip upon Starshot loosened. “G… g… gone?” she gasped. “What… where?”

“Wuh… wuh… well,” Starshot mocked her, “to put it simply, I have them. Got your little ketchup and mustard-colored friend whilst you were busy looking at that communication device, too.”

Adagio’s stomach dropped. All the strength drained out of her limbs. “Sh… Shimmer? What are you talking about? What did you do with my sisters?” she cried.

“Don't worry, they are all in a better place now,” the mage tittered, curling his fingers in the air dramatically, “a place where you shall never find them on your own.”

“If you've hurt them, I swear—”

Starshot raised a hand to stop her. “They live. But I'm afraid that you are in no position to make demands… or threats.”

The Siren took a deep, shuddering breath, and gulped down some resolve. “Alright. What do you want, then?”

“Well isn’t it obvious, witch?” Starshot scoffed. “I want you. Your surrender, to be more precise. Come quietly, and your sisters will remain unharmed—for the time being, anyway. I'll even do you one better, and release that flame-haired girl as well!”

Adagio was flabbergasted. How had the mage managed to catch all three of them? Sunset was just there a moment ago. And she had just seen her sisters this morning, smiled at them, hugged them. She would have never thought that the mage would strike just hours after the previous night's debacle.

Discreetly glancing toward his jacket, Adagio could spy the hints of a glow escaping from its innards. Her eyes narrowed. She lifted her chin, and straightened out her shoulders. Taking a step toward him, she placed a gentle hand upon his chest. “Oh, Starshot, all this for me?” Her hands slid beneath his lapels, against the flesh of his neck as he passed her his typical, smug grin. “Surely, had you been more direct and less aggressive about it, we could have worked something out. Surely, all of this pain and misery is unnecessary.” There was a tingle in her chest. Her powers were coming alive, but oddly, far too slow and belabored. Maybe it was just because she was tired. Her mind struggled to fill itself with words as she edged close to him, laying her head upon his shoulder. “You know there’s still time if you'd like to change your mind. I most certainly wouldn’t mind it if you

Decide upon obedience,
And do as I say…

“Do… as you say,” Starshot drawled, his entire body going limp.

Moron, Adagio thought, laughing to herself. The fool had unwittingly allowed her to turn him into the answer to all of her problems. Now, all she had to do to find her sisters, Sunset, and a way back to Equestria was to command him to do it for her.

Crack open the door,
And we’ll hasten away…

“And not to some shitty place where everybody is a plastic bag or something. Take me to my sisters, and then to Equestria, got it?” she commanded.

“Sisters…” Starshot slurred, his hand beginning to glow bright.

“Yes, that’s it!” Adagio chirped. Biting her lip in happy anticipation, she held fast to Starshot’s shoulders, and squeezed her eyes shut as he lifted his glowing hand into the sky. Golden light crackled within his fist.

When five seconds passed with nothing happening, Adagio opened one eye, then the other, looking around to see what was the matter. “Is it done? I… Is this the place?” She glanced up to see the mage’s fist still glowing. His eyes were still dim. “What’s the matter with you? Take me to my sisters!” Inspecting the pungent haze of green that always seemed to follow the wizard about, Adagio began to read it, searching for the problem. She breathed its scent in, then froze.

His energy didn’t smell like the guilt and self-loathing that any self-deprecating servant’s should carry with them. It smelled like his usual, ripe, ancient hatred. “Wait a moment. Something’s wrong,” she muttered to herself, watching the light surrounding Starshot’s fist fizzle down into nothing.

A strong hand caught her about the throat, nearly choking her. Stunned, she stared into the mage’s eyes. They were no longer dim, but again scalding gold. “On second thought, I think I’ve changed my mind,” Starshot hissed, shoving her back as he began to roar with laughter.

Stumbling backward, Adagio fell hard onto stone.

“Oh, sweetheart, you should have seen your face!” The wizard chortled, bracing himself upon his knees. “No, truly, it was a tempting offer. It was,” he monotoned suddenly, standing up straight. Not a second later, he snorted, guffawed, and keeled over again. “I'm just kidding! It wasn’t. Your powers are practically worthless with your sisters gone. You can’t draw from them anymore!” He wagged a finger at her where she sat gripping her scraped knee with her scuffed hand. “Oh, my. You lot are very tricky, aren’t you? You're fortunate that I've yet to finish my improvements to the third ring, or else you would be wearing it now. But no worries, it should be ready by the time you arrive.”

“Son of a bitch,” Adagio hissed. “I'm never going anywhere with you!”

The mage’s smile fell away. “You creatures are so very stubborn. Do you realize how much time you waste defying me?” The mage checked his outfitted watch, either for emphasis or out of habit. “And for what? For a show of courage? An illusion of choice? You have no choice, Siren. But I can understand how flustered you must be feeling right now. So, to make things easier, I suppose I could give you your little illusion of an option.”

His jacket began to glow. The light emanated outward until he was surrounded in a golden aura. “Return to me here tomorrow evening… or don’t! That's your choice.” The wizard lifted his arm into the air. Light crackled in his fist. “Just remember all that is at stake.” The light flashed once, and when the glow had faded, Starshot was gone.

Adagio sat there, gawking, colorful circles floating before her eyes. Aria, Sonata, Shimmer, were they really all gone?

She was up in an instant, running as fast as her feet could carry her, cutting through backyards, and down side streets on a beeline towards home. The mage was lying. He hadn’t taken Aria and Sonata. He had only been trying to scare her into going away with him, leaving the two of them lost and injured without her. Her powers had not been working because he’d been wearing enchanted earplugs or something. That had to be it!

“Well, your tricks aren’t gonna work, Starshot!” she panted, racing through the backyard of her house whilst looking up into its darkened windows. Running around to the front and up the porch, she fumbled for her keys. Looking through front windows, she saw only darkness downstairs. No movement. Usually, both of her sisters would be home right now, picking seconds or thirds from the dinner pot. “That’s alright. That's okay. They must be in their rooms,” she told herself, finding the key she was looking for, and trying to steady her hand enough to slip it into the door slot. Looking up again, she noticed that both Sonata’s and Aria’s bedroom windows were dark as well. There wasn’t a single light on in the entire place. Adagio felt heat beginning to flood her face. “It’s okay. They're okay,” she gasped, finally getting the key into the hole.

As she did, she froze.

A feeling had been following her all day. At times it had felt more powerful than at others, but regardless, the sensation was constant. It had been a feeling of nakedness, anxiousness, vulnerability, one she’d thought she had forgotten long ago. At first she had assumed it to be another aspect of her new fleeting life peeking through the stonelike visage of her once endless existence. She had assumed that she was just remembering what it felt like to be mortal.

Standing there upon her porch, shivering with fright, it all became so clear. She hadn’t been feeling the vulnerability of mortality. What she had been feeling was the nakedness of a Siren spirit that had been dismantled and separated. She realized then that this was the sensation of her no longer sharing the essence of her sisters. It was the saddest, loneliest feeling she had ever experienced in all her long life.

Colors around her faded. The smell of autumn dwindled into nothing. Her remaining energy quickly drained away. Her sisters were her power, and she was theirs. They were the key to her inspiration for song, the doorway through which she could see and process the world about her into any powerful melody. Without them, without those crucial parts of herself, how could she possibly see this place as anything more than useless—a big void of insufferable, uninspired gray?

What she had experienced at Striker’s earlier that day was the surge that happened just before a blackout. That meant that even as she had been sitting upon his couch sipping tea, at least one of her sisters had already been taken from her. The other was probably gone by the time she’d met Sunset at the cafe.

Her hand reached up toward the front door’s brass doorknob. It was old, worn down to a patina. Why had she never noticed that until now? Her fingers lingered just beyond it, unwilling to do anything more.

________
She pressed her finger against the doorbell, and waited, thinking that the moment the door opened she might feel something. She was wrong.

“Adagio? What's wrong? What the hell happened to your knee?” Striker asked, giving her a once over in the doorway.

The Siren remained unmoved. She couldn't bring herself to smile even if she wanted to. Her cold, dull eyes scanned the rest of the house at Striker’s back. It was all quiet.

“Ah, I get it now. Cathy and Tes. Cathode… Tesla. She works at a lab, doesn’t she? Afternoons to late night, I assume,” she said.

Striker’s brow furrowed. He scoffed. “Y...yea, but how could you have possibly known all of that?”

“Mm. It's unoriginal, so it's obvious. And I’ve had a long time to develop my intuition about these things,” she replied with a shrug. Reaching up to her tightly bound hair, she undid the band and allowed her curls to fall free. After all, there was no more work to be done. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Sure, but Adagio, it's the middle of the night,” Striker sighed.

“I think I give up.”

Striker blinked. “You what?”

“I said… I… give… up,” Adagio repeated. “I'm tired of fighting every person around me, and every predisposition within me. It seems that's all I ever do now. And I don't want to do it anymore. I'm done fighting.” She moved forward to wrap her arms about Striker’s shoulders, and kicked the door shut behind her.

“Not this again,” the man groaned, patronizingly patting her back. “Adagio, I've already told you that you can’t be here like this.”

“My sisters are gone.”

“W… what?”

“I didn't go inside to look, but I didn't have to. I can feel it. He took them… or killed them. I don't know which. It's the most horrible, empty feeling.”

“Adagio, I think we need to call someone. You're unwell, and if what you're saying is true, then—”

She looked up at him and smiled. Instantly, he froze. “You don't get it,” she hummed, shaking her head. “There’s nothing to be done anymore.” His face was close, so she kissed his cheek, perhaps to make sure he would just shut up for good. He didn't object.

When she pulled away, her eyes had gone sad. The tired shadows about her face were hidden in darkness. “Hey, Striker?” she asked.

Understandably, he was too stunned to reply.

“Just know that this wasn’t my first inclination. I would have probably gone straight to Sunset’s to read that stupid book, but,” she forced a small chuckle, “he took her, too. Right in front of me. And now there’s no one else. And I don't think I'll ever see you again after tonight, and earlier today you looked so much like…” The smile fell away. “ What I'm saying is… this time I really am sorry, alright? Just know that.”

Rising up to her toes, she lifted her chin, and drew him closer.

On the Clock

Somewhere, hidden in a secret place, there is a lonely room. Blanketed in stillness, its furnishings sit frozen, its drapings cloak a single, stirring form.

The body’s muscles are gone lean and wiry with the neglect that heralds a general lack of concern for self. It stirs, wrestling with its own dreams in its sparse bed. Lost in a thing that is not quite sleep, its eyes remain cracked. Its mouth forms soundless words, rhythmic and slow.

It is a song, half-hatched and ancient. The words themselves seem suited for dusty old libraries and crumbling ruin. They are phantoms of times long gone.

The body writhes in its restless slumber. Its hand twitches and flails, feeling for its own face, its own mouth. The words keep coming. Breath quickens, sweat drips, and on the song goes, no longer so pleasant, but as a painful groan. Fingers hook onto lips to seal them shut. The body jolts awake.

___

Starshot woke up screaming… again.

By now he was used to it. The dream was one of his usuals: Cricket’s sweet face increasingly growing ravished by madness and self-loathing as she called out to him for help. Three wicked sisters, always more beautiful with each recurring dream, loomed over his wife’s trembling form, appearing as grand, shining things not of his world. Their eyes, cold and cruel, did nothing but stare as their refrain dragged on. At some point, those beautiful sounds would always drown out Kit’s crying. Worse yet was the moment Starshot found himself singing along, choosing to listen to the undying melody rather than attempting to battle the trio and risk losing the song. By the end of the dream, Kit was nothing more than a dead husk amidst evil. And when they saw that there was nothing left of her, the sisters always turned their eye upon him next. They would bid him to approach, and gleefully he would obey, even as their soft flesh turned to armored scales, their gleaming white teeth into fangs. And still, he smiled and sang with them, on and on until...

Starshot swiped a hand over his head, drawing away the moisture that lingered there. He took a steadying breath before shooting out of bed. Something wet and metallic crunched underfoot. Wincing as he remembered what he had been doing before falling asleep, he glanced down to find the crushed remnants of a large, metallic ring scattered about the floor beside the tools he had been using to build it. “Damn,” he sighed.

Taking another step, he realized that his muscles were feeling rather stiff. Lifting his right arm as fast as he could manage—which wasn't very fast at all—he looked at his elaborate wristwatch. The second counting hand was ticking far too slowly for any increment that might resemble an actual second.

“So soon?” he muttered, rolling his jaw when the words came belabored. He charged his magic, reached for the winding mechanism that sat atop the watch’s face, and gave it two full turns. As the watch’s golden glow faded away and the mage moved his arms and legs about, he found them more sprightly. The second hand on its face was making good time again, as it should. For the millionth time, the wizard warned himself about going too long without casting that spell. The last time he had forgotten, he’d been stuck frozen face down in bed for two whole days whilst his hand strained to charge its own magic.

Pushing a second button, the watch’s face flipped open and slid to the left, revealing three more. All of them were clicking and ticking at different speeds, releasing sparks of gold from their innards. Satisfied that the contraption would be able to serve its purpose, he clipped it back shut.

In his makeshift shower—shadow spells casted just beyond a cistern that hung in midair—the water emptied out whilst soap was still in his eyes. “Superb.” That was his last cistern. He would need to collect more water from Equestria before doing anything else he had scheduled for the next twelve ‘hours’. Clearly, it was shaping up to be one of those ‘days’.

An unremarkable shirt went over an unremarkable pair of jeans, both black. The color had become habit by now, living in a place like this, and moving from world to world the way he did. Black was ageless, and for the most part universal. It all muddled together into a formless mass to those who might have been looking at him from far away. Hardly anyone questioned his attire for fear that their eyes were deceiving them. They'd be wrong, of course, but it barely mattered. Starshot didn't plan on making too many trips to the human world anyway.

A leather strap went about one shoulder. It was fitted with a chain connected to a roundish holster made for something the size of a dessert plate. Up from his nightstand the mage lifted a glass disk, already sizzling and sparking gold. He fitted the disk into the round holster, then reached for his jacket. Its hood was worn out and its body had been scuffed during his ventures. After clipping the plate into the interior of the jacket, he checked its hidden compartments to ensure that all of his daggers were still in place. They were weighted and heavy, but traversing through worlds where one risked losing one’s magic deemed the weapons a necessary nuisance.

Heaving a loud sigh, Starshot gazed longingly toward an array of pistols, rifles, and other elaborate forms of antiquated and futuristic firearm where they had been ‘mounted’ upon the inky blackness near his bed. What extraordinary devices these tendril-wielding, furless creatures were inclined to create in order to make up for their lack of magic. For a moment he considered the ease of carrying one along with him, then ripped the notion from his mind. He had learned his lesson about that after experiencing the heightened terror wrought by four squad cars, all on alarm. He had recently rid the city’s PD of a few rotten Ad Vice detectives who had broken bad, and was celebrating with the most lackluster street vendor mush possible when they all rolled up on him at once, guns drawn. After having spent so many decades completing tasks of this nature, it took all of his dwindling shreds of social understanding to remember why some less informed creatures might have recognized vigilantism as wrong. He couldn’t blame them. Regardless, Starshot had learned something about guns that day. Namely, that ancient firearms were gaudy and weak; modern ones had serial numbers and ballistic experts hawk eyeing them from any point on the planet, and none of these qualities worked to his advantage.

It had taken the mage a temporal count of three weeks to straighten out that entire ‘fugitive’ mess in its timeline, and by that time, he had decided to remain free of such extraordinary weapons. It was much easier that way. Still, they did make for great ornaments for an often troubled mind to ponder over.

Shoving on his boots, Starshot made his way through walls of shadow toward his cluttered desk. Using magic to flip through the pages of his enormous tome, he read what tasks he had laid out for himself then frowned when he remembered the extra chores he was now obliged to tend to. First would come the cisterns and then the parts for ring repair which he would need to fetch from both Equestria and the human world. “Well, the faster I begin…” he muttered, tapping his watch and heading off toward the mirror room. Three large, emptied water reservoirs bobbed up and down through the air, following close behind.
_______

“What is that thing on your foreleg, Mister?”

A purple pegasus filly sniffed at Starshot’s watch as she huddled by his side. The Stockstein rivershore was lovely that day, but her eyes were glued only to the contraption upon his foreleg as if it were a piece of candy.

Starshot grimaced without looking toward her. His horn glowed in gold as he levitated one of the three cisterns he had brought with him. “It's nothing. Go away.”

In the distance, smoke billowed from black spouts stabbing into a hazy sky. That beautiful image of rolling, Equestrian green had mostly wilted into a more sickly yellow around the city of Hackleshire. How times had changed the once lush and lazy little town. In a mere four hundred years, it had managed to transform into the very definition of everything that was wrong with Equestria’s industrial age.

Starshot hated this age, but it was probably fair to say that anypony would, even the ones born of it. And yet somehow this foul place had managed to offer up the cleanest available drinking water free for the taking. Thus, tolerating the time was a burden the mage would simply have to learn to live with.

Starshot wasn't hesitant to admit that he had only walked through the now sprawling city twice, and just when it was absolutely necessary. The only useful things that would come from the half realized, twisted metal jungle were the two decades of Equestrian prosperity that would follow soon after. This, of course, would arrive in tandem with the nation-wide recognition of working class pony rights at the behest of a pair of too old, too fed up Princesses. At least Celestia had made things somewhat tolerable in the meantime by sending her most powerful unicorn mages out across the land to purify the kingdom’s slowly toxifying water sources. Great news for fishes and Starshot, bad news for the once sizeable collection of pony entrepreneurs who had been hedging their bets on selling potable water to the destitute. Those greedy ones were cut down and cut off with ferocity by the Princesses, and Starshot could not say that he wasn't gladdened by it. What kind of monster would put a price on the right to live?

“Sure don't look like ‘nothing’,” the foal tittered, scratching her nose to hide the fact that she was planning on reaching for the watch. “Sure looks like something amazing. What is it?”

“It's dangerous. So don't touch it,” Starshot replied, unmoved. “And I'll save you the trouble of trying to steal it by telling you that your vendor will only pay you two bits for it before accidentally freezing himself forever. It isn’t worth the effort or the trouble. Now begone.” Starshot needn't look at the child’s face to know that she was reeling with suspicion. He lifted his filled cistern out of the river, and replaced it with the final one.

“H… how did ya know… Who…” the filly stammered, flitting around to the stallion’s other side.

“Isn’t pickpocketing an automatic jail sentence in Equestria nowadays? Hm, Little Dipper?” Starshot inquired, reaching into his black saddlebags to fetch what looked like a stick of gum. Unwrapping it with magic, he popped it into his mouth.

Little Dipper panicked. “Please, Mister, I didn't mean no harm! I promise if you forget me, I won't trouble you again!” she cried, hopping again to his other side in hopes of making some form of meaningful eye contact. The wizard’s gaze remained steadfast upon the Stockstein. Even when the filly began to cry.

“Please?” She hunkered down into the grass and whimpered. “I was only going to take it for my sister. She's littler than me and don't get paid at the mill. They only give her a bed and we don't make enough to eat so very much, Mister. Please don't tell!”

Starshot rolled his eyes and flicked his tail. Celestia damn this bleeding heart of his. One would think that the shadow of these emotions would have rotted away long ago. Alas, punishing a hungry child for stealing didn't seem like the right thing to do on any plane.

As the last filled cistern clunked onto dry land, the unicorn stallion’s saddlebags began to glow. Out from one fold flew a small satchel filled with gold bits. It twirled through the space between the two ponies before landing near the filly’s hooves. “It is for food, do you hear me? Not games, not gambling, not extras on the hard cider I know they feed you young workhooves to shut you up at night. Understand?”

“M… Mister?” Little Dipper gasped, blinking at the satchel.

Starshot lifted all three cisterns into his powerful magic and turned to walk away. “If I see you anywhere spending that money on something frivolous I will call the city guard,” he said, flicking his sky blue tail at the filly. “Now, if you are quite finished gawking, I would like to ask you a few questions. Your type knows this city well enough, don't they?”

“Golly! I mean, thanks, Mister! I mean, sure I do, Mister!” the filly beamed, snatching the satchel up between her teeth only to drop it again.

“Good. Would you happen to know the names of the oldest potion maker and magical metalworker in this place?”

“Yea! I think so!” Dipper shouted, flapping her little wings. “Witch Hazel’s down on Fritterfling, near the square. Miss Holly is really nice to the factory foals. Visits all the time to patch us up. Foals always breaking something or other down at—”

“Yes, yes, I'm aware. And what about the smithy?” Starshot interrupted, not wanting to hear anymore of the child’s sad tales lest he be inspired to take action against this miserable age of smoke and gears that had preyed upon her.

“Oh, right!” the filly said, scratching at her soot darkened mane. “Sparth’s, I think. It's a bit farther out, near the eastside mines. Go straight down Fritterfling from Hazel’s to the end and ya can't miss it. I get sent there all the time to make deliveries. That mare, Bellower, is always talking about how that smithy’s been there four hundred fifty years. But Miss Holly’s place is much nicer, and been there longer, and smells good.” She snickered to herself. “Don’t stop them from fighting about it, though. You should have seent the scrap they got into last week; right in the middle of the market even!”

“Alright, alright. Very good,” Starshot said, looking off toward the mounds of smoke and metal in the distance with no intention of approaching it. His horn glowed bright. This time the glow consumed his entire body as his hooves lifted off of the wilted grass. His brow furrowed when he caught sight of Dipper’s grimey, little, awestruck face one more time. Sighing loudly, he allowed his magic to fade. His hooves and the cisterns again hit the ground. “What did you say your Supervisor’s name was, Little Dipper? I think perhaps I’d like to pay him a quick visit.”

The filly cocked a brow. “Why? You ain't gonna tell him you saw me here, are ya?” She gasped. “You can't tell him, okay? I'll get in big, big trouble! It'll be a whipping for me, for sure!”

Starshot worked his jaw. There was an ache inside of his chest; one he didn't want to admit was still possible. “No, Little Dipper. I shan't tell him anything.” His mouth wouldn't need to utter a single word once his hooves were through talking.

Damn this bleeding heart of his. If only he could rip it out.
______

Witch Hazel’s was a quaint little townhouse built in the style reminiscent of Starshot’s own time. No doubt that in his day it had been a multi-level home of gentry before being split up into a commoner’s flat above a stuffy, little potions shop.

Upon his entering the establishment two things happened: a powerful odor of herbs nearly knocked him flat onto his rear, and water began to drip down onto his head.

“Coming! Coming!” an old stallion’s voice called from a back room behind the counter. When he appeared around the doorway, Starshot held back a laugh. The old one was an earth stallion, which wasn't too surprising, and was an entire two heads shorter than him. His hide was gnarled like the roots of an ancient tree. How he managed to get around so fast and speak with such pep, the time mage could only speculate.

“My apologies for the, er, rain. The filly left the entire house covered in watergilly yesterday evening, and they’ve all begun to wilt. Floor’s practically a wading pool up there!” he exclaimed, climbing up onto a wooden box so that he might be able to look his surly, gray customer in the eye. “There! And how might I be of service to you today, young stallion?”

“Yes, I'd like to speak to Miss Holly Thorn, the owner. I was told that she knew how to make—”

“Who is that? Only owners of this shop are me, and my filly, Hazel,” the old one crowed, cleaning some water out of one of his droopy ears with a free hoof. “Can you speak a bit louder, colt? My hearing isn't quite what it once was, and that coastal accent of yours is running a bit deep.”

Starshot ran a hoof down the center of his face. Of course Holly wasn’t here. He had opted into visiting the shop about five hundred years before she was born. “Apologies, sir. Bit of a long morning. Had to have a word with a stallion about his questionable business practices,” he said, shaking out his sore right hoof. “Also, I'm from Canterlot, thank you very much. I don't intend to take up too much of your time. Only wished to know if you carried distilled staunchroot juice. I've used the last bit of my own.”

The old one’s brow furrowed. His hunched shoulders straightened out and squared themselves. “No, I don't carry staunchroot juice. Only the raw herb.” He leaned forward. “Now, why might you be searching for staunchroot, colt? It's powerful stuff. Only thing that’s used for is unicorn deterrent.”

“Well, I'm a unicorn, aren’t I?” Starshot quipped. “It is for a study I happen to be conducting in Canterlot. I was passing through your fine town and heard a great deal about your establishment, sir. Thought I might pay a visit, tout your shop to my peers if things went well.”

The elder’s jaw worked about in that way jaws did when one was doing their best to hold their tongue. “Flattery earns you very little with me I'm afraid,” he said. “But if you have your permit to purchase staunchroot, that might work.”

“A permit? In Canterlot I can purchase all of the—” Starshot bit his tongue. Sure, he could purchase all of the magical ingredients he required in Canterlot three hundred years ago. He was a famous mage, and restrictions on magic deterrents had not yet been implemented throughout the kingdom. Still, he did not necessarily feel up to wasting more time, traveling back further or out farther toward a different shop. “Sir, I am willing to pay you your asking price if you are willing to forget the permit.”

“Afraid I cannot, young stallion. The Princess has expressly forbidden the—”

“Name a price. Any price,” Starshot insisted pounding a hoof upon the counter.

The old stallion must have noticed the sincerity in the mage’s eyes as well as the size of the bit satchel he pulled from his saddlebags. For not a moment later did he rush off down to his cellar, old joints creaking and crackling all the way.

Starshot stood in silence, glancing about the dusty shop, the dried herbs that hung like thick foliage from its ceiling, the rows upon rows of unmarked bottles lining the aged walls. “Quaint,” he said, recalling how homey it appeared when he was studying the place through his viewing spell. It was a shame what was about to happen to it. He checked his watch. “Five, four, three, two…”

An explosion rocked the room. It belched out from the left wall, and extended its reach to the right in front of Starshot’s face. As all havoc broke loose around him, he eyed the dried herbs carpeting the ceiling. They would all go up in flames any second now, ruining the shop for good. He eyed the foundations inside of the walling where the explosion was born. They remained completely undamaged, just as he had foreseen. Fortunately, the building would not be collapsing today, nor would the upstairs apartments suffer any damage considering the far too coincidental spread of watergilly upon the floor. “How very fortunate indeed,” he muttered to himself, rolling his eyes. His horn began to glow.

The old shopkeep, apparently too deaf to have heard the explosion from the cellar, chose that moment to casually trot back into the room, two bundles of staunchroot hanging from his teeth by a string. Upon seeing the state of destruction within his shop, the herbs fell onto the smoking floor with a ‘crunch’. “Oh, dear Celestia, no. We shall all of us perish!” he screamed, taking the opportunity to begin a mad dash about the room, leaping for herbs yet to burn from the roofing, and potion bottles yet to boil upon the shelves. “Spirits save us!”

The room glowed in gold. Everything save for the old shopkeep and Starshot was rendered frozen in time. Even the fingers of the inferno that raged all about them remained still.

“What in Sombra's horn…” the old stallion murmured, looking about mystified.

“Just a moment,” Starshot said, charging his magic again. One by one, each loosened herb leaf and every misplaced vial of potion began a slow trek back to their original positions. After everything had again found its rightful place, the flames receded across the shop and back into the walling from whence they came. When the room was fire-free, the blasted wall’s wood chips lifted themselves off of the floor and latched onto each other to make the structure whole again.

“Wonders,” the shopkeep breathed, his glazed eyes planted upon Starshot.

“Not entirely,” the mage replied.

Not a moment later did a dark magenta mare a few years younger than Starshot rush through the door, flailing her forelegs. A pair of spectacles fastened to a fine link chain dangled about her neck. “Mercy me! Get away, father! Mother! I shall… save…” Her eyes scanned the innards of the shop as it stood as quaint and untouched by Tartarus fire as ever. “...you?”

Her gaze landed upon Starshot whose horn was dimming down to nothing. Their eyes met briefly. In that instant, it was clear that she hated him, and that he couldn’t care less.

“Father, what in dirt’s name is going on?” the mare bleated, looking quite confused.

“Hazel! A real miracle has been bestowed upon us!” the shopkeep cried, rounding about the counter to her side. “This unicorn, a mage of the highest caliber, has just saved our shop!” Without waiting for a reply, the old stallion raced off toward the wall from where the explosion had emerged. He poked around the wood with a hoof, looking for any cracks, dents, or burn marks.

Hazel’s eyes cut toward Starshot. “Has he? And how did he manage such a thing?”

The old stallion shrugged, and made his way back toward the young pair. “Couldn’t tell you. But it was a blessing, certainly! For a moment I could have sworn the smoke smelled of dragon’s blood petals. We would have never been able to put that out! And your entire inheritance would have gone up in smoke!” He eyed his daughter. “Hazel, you should thank this stallion for saving our livelihood!”

Hazel huffed, pushing her spectacles onto her nose. “Well! Thank you, sir,” she griped, forcing the words through her teeth.

The old stallion turned to face Starshot. “How could we ever repay you?”

“Well, if it isn’t too much trouble,” the mage said, his eyes on Hazel, “the staunchroot would suffice.”

“Staunchroot?” Hazel asked, her face contorting.

“Mercy me! I nearly forgot!” the shopkeep exclaimed, waving a foreleg toward the back of the counter where he had dropped Starshot’s purchase. “Hazel, filly, use those good legs of yours and hurry over to retrieve this kind stallion’s items, won’t you?”

Hazel blinked and nodded her head. Bewilderment had finally begun to set in. On her way toward the staunchroot and back, she glanced over her shoulder at the unicorn mage. How very out of place he seemed.

When she stood before him, and dropped the root at his hooves, their eyes met again. “There. Now, I suppose you should be on your way then, sir,” she said. “I'm sure a unicorn with powers of your magnitude would have more pressing matters to attend to. Thus, I will bid you good day!”

“What of payment?” Starshot asked, wearing a mischievous smirk. His horn began to glow as did the lip of his left saddlebag.

“Oh, no. We wouldn’t dream of it! Strictly complimentary, my colt!” the old earth stallion tittered, running about behind the counter to retrieve a large parcel tied with strong twine. “As a matter of fact, here is a little extra, and I threw in some zap apple ale as well. Very good. Very potent. Could keep a stallion your size running for two—no—three days straight I'd wager.”

Hazel smirked at this remark, flipping her yellow mane out of her face. “Oh, good. That should be enough to give him a quick start. Again, I bid you good day and safe travels!”

Before Starshot could finish levitating all of his valuables into his saddlebag, the earth mare was already shoving him toward the door.

“Hold on just one moment there!” the old stallion bellowed, startling his daughter to a halt. He scratched at his mane. “B… before you run off, young stallion, would you allow me to repay your good deed in a better way?”

“No, thank you,” Starshot said, frowning at Hazel as he straightened out his fur. “You've already done more than enough.” He turned away to leave.

“Are you certain I couldn't tempt you with anything else? A hot meal perhaps? We’re a family of humble means, but the wife makes a glorious pot pie!”

Starshot paused in his tracks. His stomach took a perfect tumble. How long had it been since he'd eaten an actual home cooked meal?

“Most of our children have flown the coop save for our lovely Hazel, here, and she'd very much enjoy the company of youth, methinks!” the old stallion insisted. “Isn’t that right, filly?”

Caught off guard, Hazel stammered and shoved her glasses back into place. She lowered her head. “Father! Don't be ridiculous! I am perfectly capable of getting on without—”

“Why don't you spend the night, traveler?” the shopkeep offered, ignoring his daughter. “I'm sure the rest will do you some good.”

The mage huffed, wrestling with his own frivolous desires. There were more important things to take care of other than a selfish belly, and staying any longer could prove dangerous. He had not observed this far into this particular thread of time, and had not the reserved magic to spare to do so now. If he remained, he would be left totally at fate’s mercy. Besides, he had already been gone from the Nowhere for far too long. Even now he could feel every second of passing time washing over his bones. “I'm sorry. I simply cannot…”

His attention was drawn away by a stomping sound coming from the flat above them. A moment later, an old mare’s voice called down from the stairwell.

“Buckeeee! Buckthorn!” she called.

“What is it Rosethorn?” the old stallion bellowed.

“Just where have you stashed the milk from this morning?” she replied. “I need it for the bread pudding!” Hooves could be heard stomping further away, and then suddenly back again. “Hazel, get a move on! You must start on this bread pudding!”

“Coming, mother!” Hazel called, never moving an inch.

“Aw, Celestia help me, Rosethorn. How do you always manage to lose the milk?” Buckthorn replied.

This time, the growl of Starshot’s stomach was audible enough for both earth ponies to hear it. The mage licked his lips hungrily. On second thought, perhaps an evening of rest would be good for him. It might toughen him up, remind him what it felt like to grow older, even if it was just for a day. “Would you have a place where I might store three large cisterns for the night?” he inquired.

“Excellent!” Buckthorn cried, straightening out his crooked back so that he might perform a quick two step. “You may utilize the yard right next door to your liking, my colt!”

“What?” Hazel yelped. “But, Father, that is Mister Dillweed’s yard!”

“Pishaw, filly,” Buckthorn clucked, waving the mare away. “By the time that old coot could make it downstairs to complain, it would already be morning. Now, come along!”

“Buckeee!” Rosethorn called again from the top of the stairs. “Are we having a guest for dinner? What have I told you about inviting ponies on such short notice? Mercy me, I haven't had the chance to tidy up!”

“Rosey, I'm quite certain he wouldn’t care. He looks as if he'd fit right in!” Buckthorn replied, heading up the stairs.

Starshot faltered. Discreetly, he lowered his snout to sniff at his fur. “What’s he on about? Celestia, I don't still smell of factory smoke, do I?” Shrugging this off, he made to move toward the stairwell when a firm, magenta hoof shoved him in the chest, stopping him in his tracks.

“Just who are you, stranger?” Hazel inquired. The spectacles fell off of her nose to dangle about her neck. “What has brought you to Witch Hazel’s on today of all days?”

Starshot kept his cool demeanor. “I'm certain I don't know what you're on about.” He moved to walk around her, and was stopped again when she shoved her entire body between him and the stairwell.

“My parents might be too old to sense trouble, but you don't fool me for a second, whoever you are,” she hissed. Her gaze trailed down toward Starshot’s fetlock where his elaborate watch was attached. She licked her lips, and reached out to grab at it. Her foreleg was halted by a crushing glow of gold. Eyes now filled with regret, she let forth a small squeak of pain.

Starshot remained unmoved. “You, meddling mare, shall stay away from me, and we’ll get along just fine. Do you understand?” he asked calmly.

“You’re hurting me,” Hazel hissed, attempting to pull away.

Starshot did not budge. “Pardon me, Miss. I do not wish to hurt anypony. So, I implore you to heed my warning.” He brought his face in close, and passed the mare a knowing smile. “You smell of dragon’s blood blossoms.”

Hazel was left at a loss for words as Starshot abruptly released her, and rounded about to head up the stairs.

In hindsight, he should have known that such homey comforts would only fill him with melancholy. The cozy flat was awash in warm candlelight when the four of them—including Buckthorn, his wife Rosethorn, and their daughter Hazel—sat down to eat. In the soft glow, the shadows beneath Hazel’s eyes were striking. She seemed far too forlorn for a pony her age.

As Starshot chewed voraciously upon his meal, he tried to ignore how much the setting reminded him of a home he once shared with a beautiful earth mare all his own. It wasn’t helping his efforts that Hazel refused to take her eyes off of him for the entire painful ordeal. He continued to remind himself that she was probably just wishing him dead.

“A unicorn from Canterlot, you say?” Rosethorn asked. “We don't receive such lofty guests very often in this town. What was it that you said brought you here, young stallion?”

“I'm not quite so young anymore, mum,” Starshot mumbled through a mouthful of pot pie. “And like I told your husband, I was on a journey home from the coast. Needed a few supplies for an experiment that I'm conducting. I heard about your shop and decided to pay a visit.”

“Pay a visit? To Hackleshire? Why?” Rosethorn snorted before spooning out an unnecessary extra helping of pie onto her daughter’s plate. Some of it splashed onto the younger mare’s cheek. “This place will never amount to anything.”

Starshot fought down a knowing laugh as he recalled the bustling streets and smoggy smoke stacks he had witnessed beyond the town’s river five hundred years into the future. “Oh, these things are very difficult to predict. I think Hackleshire might have some greatness in it yet.” His horn glowed as he levitated another bite of supper into his mouth.

Rosethorn gasped for what was probably the thousandth time that evening, and clapped her hooves together. “My, would you look at that, Hazel? It is so very interesting to see a unicorn do that. Do you know we don’t get many around here? Have I told you that, young stallion?”

“Only a thousand times, mother,” Hazel muttered into her meal.

Starshot made a mental note to take fewer bites of greater proportion from that moment on.

“And thank Celestia he did show up at any rate,”Buckthorn added. “I don't know what we would’ve done had our shop burned down. We’ve been having terrible luck as of late, sir, but you most certainly have broken that trend. Did you know that only one month ago, some big pegasus brute stormed in with the sharpest wingtips I've ever seen, and robbed Hazel of an entire bushel of invisavine?” He nudged his chin in his daughter's direction. “Hazel, here tends to the shop usually. Isn't so easy by myself anymore.”

“Oh, it was a nightmare!” Rosethorn cried, pressing her hooves against her cheeks. “I don't know what we would’ve done if he’d taken our entire inventory, or done something terrible to our dearest daughter!”

“Mother, it wasn’t so terrifying. I'm perfectly fine,” Hazel tittered, bearing down into her pie to take another bite. “And I know what he would’ve done with the invisavine. He would’ve eaten the entire lot, and gone on a robbing spree through town. They would have never found him.”

“You're probably right. That's what I would do,” Buckthorn mused.

“Stop encouraging her, Buckee!” Rosethorn hissed, nudging a hind leg into her husband’s flank. She waved an admonishing hoof at her daughter. “Zee, do try to keep pleasant conversation this evening. We have a guest. Wouldn't want to scare him off, would you? Like all the other good ones?”

“Mother! For Celestia’s sake!” Hazel gasped, hiding her blushing face in her hooves.

Rosethorn turned toward a bored-looking Starshot and beamed. “You have to forgive Hazel. She's always been the bookish type, you see. Has a brilliant head on her shoulders for herb cataloging and potion-making.”

“Does she?” Starshot asked, his eyes cutting in Hazel’s direction. “Such a brilliant mare might have been of some tremendous help with preventing your shop’s unfortunate accident, if it was an herb-related accident, that is.” He smiled when Hazel shot him a poisonous glare.

Rosethorn eyed her husband. “What accident, Buckee?”

“Never you mind, Rosey. It's nothing to worry yourself over,” the old stallion coughed.

Hazel snorted back a weary laugh. Her head shook from side to side.

“Witch-hazel!” Rosethorn hissed, pounding her hoof upon the table. “Manners! This stallion has just paid you a compliment. Will you not thank him?”

Starshot smiled into his plate, enjoying every moment of Hazel’s humiliation. The younger mare eyed her mother petulantly. Her spoon clattered onto clayware as she cleared her throat and sat up straight. “Thank you for your kind words, sir,” she spat at him, her expression wholly unamused. “I’m sure I do not deserve them.”

“Why would you be sure of something like that?” Starshot quipped, just to add to her misery.

Rosethorn sighed loudly, rolling her eyes. “Our Hazel is brilliant indeed, but it isn’t worth a thing when it comes to manners in the presence of well-to-do company, I’m afraid.” The old mare’s punishing glare cut toward her daughter whose forehead was now bent down upon the table.

“Spirits…” Hazel groaned into wood.

Starshot chuckled. It was only an innocent thing, a common sound at any pleasant dinner table. Therein lay the problem.

A hovering lump of food dropped unceremoniously back down onto his plate. Stew splashed everywhere as the mage gazed off into his painful memories long past. The entire table went quiet.

“Sir? Are you alright?” Rosethorn inquired cautiously. “Is it the pie?”

Starshot’s eye twitched. His lips had drawn tight.

Delight was a dangerous thing. Fondness for anypony or anything was a trap, a handle to be used by one’s enemies. It was a lesson that he had learned the hard way, and was most certainly not willing to endure learning again. In that moment, his deciding to stay for comfort's sake did indeed seem like a grave mistake. It was time to cut supper short.

He forced down his unchewed mouthful of pie, and rose to his hooves, appetite now gone. “May I be excused? My apologies, but I've had a very long day and would like to retire for the evening.”

He could still hear Hazel and Rosethorn hissing angry words at each other as he quickly splashed across the watergilly-strewn floor, and rounded the corner toward his room.

It was the middle of the night and silent as death when Starshot heard a light tapping upon his door. He halted the writing he had been completing in a smaller, more portable tome in order to answer the knock. His stomach leapt into his throat when he saw Hazel standing there in the pitch black hallway, the hem of a rather old fashioned sleeping gown twisting about in her jittery front hooves, and a plate of bread pudding held between her teeth.

They both stared at one another in silence before the mare gently placed her platter on the floor, and cleared her throat. “Well? Will you invite me in or not?” she asked, sounding gentler than usual.

“That depends,” Starshot replied, narrowing his eyes at her.

The mare frowned, picked the plate up again, and barged her way through. “Yr ought to shpeak up a bit more. Can barely hear yr.” Placing the plate down on a stand beside the door, she turned toward the mage. “You left early. Never had a chance to try my pudding. I was quite offended, you know.”

“Really? I would have never guessed it was possible for such a lowly pony as myself to offend you, Miss,” Starshot scoffed. “Nevertheless, it was not my intention.”

The quiet consumed them again. Eventually, Starshot rolled his eyes, and made his way back toward his writing desk. Meddling in the unimportant affairs of common ponies was something he no longer held a taste for. “I'll eat it when I have the time. I'm a bit busy presently.”

“It will get cold,” the mare monotoned behind him.

Starshot tapped a hoof against his horn without ever looking up from his page. “I imagine a bit of fire wouldn't be too difficult for me to conjure up. You managed it just fine.”

Hazel growled, picked up the plate and made her way over toward his desk where she promptly plopped it down before him. The mage barely had time to draw his book out of the way of flying specks of nutmeg and sugar. Glancing in Hazel’s direction, he was astonished to see her peering down at his tome and the loose herbs scattered about his desk with deep interest.

“What is it that you are writing there, sir?” the mare inquired, popping her glasses onto her nose to take a better look. “‘Staunchroot stored within ring compartment delivered to host in micro increments perhaps by elec… e-lec-tronic pulse?’” she read off of the page.

Starshot snatched the book out of her sight. “Madame, do you mind?”

“What is elec… electronic?” she inquired, ignoring his temper. “Is it a unicorn technique?”

“I don't see how that is any of your business,” the stallion growled, levitating his book into the air, turning his back toward her, and again beginning to write.

“Oh, stop being a grump, won't you?” Hazel pressed with no luck. She sighed when he did not respond. “At least try the pudding, then. Perhaps it might even put a smile on that grim face of yours.” The mage still did not seem amused. “I'll leave if you try it,” she insisted.

Starshot eyed the plate and then Hazel. His eyes narrowed. Without looking away, his horn began to glow, and the entire chunk of bread pudding levitated itself off of the clayware and into his mouth. “Vere. Arf you satishfied?” he mumbled out of one side of his cheek.

Hazel remained quiet. The tiny, trembling smile on her face now bordered on humiliated. “Very much so,” she croaked, unable to look at him. Her hooves were shaking again. The spectacles slipped from her face. “Pardon me, sir. I only wanted… to…”

Catching hold of her emotions, she straightened out her back, set her jaw, and furrowed her brow. Rounding about the mage, she stubbornly plopped herself down onto a nearby sitting cushion.

Starshot rolled his eyes and swallowed his mouthful of pudding. “Oh, come now. Be a mare of your word, and leave me be,” he groaned.

“Sir, I am beginning to believe that you do not fancy my company,” Hazel tittered, adjusting the cloth about her haunches and flipping her mane.

Starshot growled. He had absolutely no time for such frivolous conversation. “Well, then, it would seem you are as smart as your mother and father have led me to believe. How would they feel if they were to find you here at this hour?”

Hazel’s eyes sparked. “Do not allow my mother to persuade you into believing that I am a child. You aren’t the only scholarly pony in this house who has license to study and travel and see all of Equestria.” Her resolve cracked. With a defeated breath, she leaned her back against the wall and gazed off to some far corner. “The only reason I am here now is because none of my siblings wished to take over this silly shop. And since I have a penchant for herbs and potions, my life was decided for me.”

Starshot remained quiet. He had gone back to scribbling in his book.

Hazel’s gaze went soft when she looked at him. “Go on then. You pretend like my words don’t matter. That isn’t new to me anymore.” She took a deep breath. “I was invited to study potions in Canterlot once, you know. Received a letter and everything. Signed by Celestia herself. Mother and father made a big to-do about it. They seemed so excited for me until my brother Hawthorn, that whiny foal, decided he would rather not inherit the shop at all.” She scoffed. “Next thing you know, Red Hawthorn’s potion shop was promptly renamed Witch Hazel’s, and my invitation to Canterlot was put aside and forgotten. Mother and Father would no longer give me their blessing to leave, you see.”

“Shame,” Starshot muttered, flipping a page in his book, and continuing to write.

“It was,” Hazel sighed.

“Is that why you attempted to destroy it all?” The mage turned away from his page to eye her.

Thick silence descended upon them. Hazel’s eyes went glassy and red. She looked down into her lap. “Yes. To free myself.”

“It was an irresponsible thing to do. And quite brash,” the wizard scolded her. “Somepony could have been hurt.

Hazel scoffed. “My measurements are always precise. I’d placed the watergilly exactly so that our home would remain. Everypony would have been just fine.”

“You sound like a very selfish mare, Witch-hazel,” Starshot said.

“How dare you?” she hissed, sitting up in her seat. “You don’t know anything about my life. I've given up almost all of my dreams for my parents’ short-sighted desires.” She straightened her hems. “Maybe it is time that I be a bit selfish. Haven’t you done a selfish thing in hopes that it might quell your soul? Even if just a little bit?”

Yes, Starshot had. But he wasn’t about to let her know that.

“The only thing I could not account for was you. Why did you have to show up and ruin everything? On today of all days?” She swiped a hoof across her muzzle. “Just my luck, I suppose. Must be fate letting me know that it has no intention of letting me have peace or happiness.”

Starshot remained pensive even though the ache in the mare’s voice made his ear twitch. When she sniffled, he sighed and gazed at her out of the corner of his eye. “Things might not always go according to plan when we hope it might, Miss Hazel. But that doesn’t mean they can’t still end up alright in the end. Give it time.”

Yes, time. Time was good at revealing all well-hidden truths.

“Maybe you’re right,” the mare replied, running a stray hoof over the grainy wood of his desk. “The entire royal invitation incident was just a great disappointment to me, is all. Probably the greatest in my life. This town is small; only an in between place between Trotchester and the uncharted southwest. There’s nothing to do here but sell trinkets and hot meals to adventurers, make foals, and die.” She turned her face toward Starshot. Her eyes remained lowered. “I have to apologize for my mother’s behavior today, by the way. She can be aggressive when it comes to guests like… well, you. Thinks I'm a spinster that will never give her grandchildren. I think that would serve her right if I didn’t, actually.”

Starshot choked and sputtered upon nothing. He buried his muzzle into his book, scribbling much harder with his quill.

Hazel giggled at him. “I’d had my heart set on meeting so many new ponies, making so many new friends, some that would even be able to help with our shop’s acclaim. But alas, it was not meant to be.” She passed him a sad smile. “You know you’re the first visitor we’ve had in months? The last one was my aunt, Henna. So annoying, that mare. Always eats us out of house and home whenever she stays over.”

The room was quiet save for the sound of Starshot’s writing. Eventually, Hazel sighed, rose up to her hooves, and straightened her gown. “I’m sorry for bothering you this evening. Please don’t think the worst of me. I only desired the company, perhaps a story or two about your adventures. But I can see now that you do not wish to be disturbed.” She moved toward the door. “Goodnight, sir.”

“What do you know of staunchroot?” Starshot inquired casually, his eyes still upon the page.

Hazel stopped in her tracks. Her head turned about. The stallion could feel her coy grin burning into the side of his face. He grimaced. “Well?”

“I know that anypony who purchases it is up to no good, even if they are on official business,” she replied, crossing her front hooves. “I hesitated to ask what your purchase was intended for, fearing that your visit might turn into one not so pleasant.”

“Good,” the stallion said, turning away from his page to return her smile. “Then we’ll just skip that part of the conversation, and you can tell me how one might utilize the plant’s properties to act on another’s magical will instead of its own… perhaps?”

Hazel’s brow furrowed. “Y… you wish to control the ability for another to use magic. Not completely staunch it, is what you’re saying?”

“Well, put simply, yes,” Starshot replied.

“I suppose I could help you figure such a thing, but I don't know. I’m not very good with applying potions onto inanimate objects as variables, either. And I don't wish to disturb you any more than I already have. And it might take a while,” Hazel warned him, narrowing her eyes. “Could take all night.”

Starshot arched a brow. “I’m counting on it.”

The mare guffawed. “You cheeky thing!” Her muzzle lowered down beneath the neckline of her gown, rooted about for a bit, and eventually appeared again clasping onto her spectacles. Gingerly, she wrestled them onto her nose and grinned brightly, the most genuine smile she had given Starshot since he’d arrived. “Well, if we are to expand the books on magical knowledge in a single night, I would suggest that we not do it on empty stomachs. I’ll go fetch the rest of the pudding!”

___________

“Who knows why that mousey filly, Prickly Pear, is always complaining?” The large, muscular stallion brought his steel-shoed hoof down again and again upon the curve of molten metal laying on his anvil. He took a step back to regard his work, wiped the sweat from his brow, and bore down again. “Always going on about that ghastly patch of weeds out back my smithy. Swears they’re important.”

Starshot nosed about the stallion’s metal-strewn workroom. It was dark save for the orange glow coming from the hearth. Everything, even down to the fine wares dashed carelessly into a corner pile, was covered in soot. Above the hearth and bellows—strangely the only clean thing in the cramped room—hung a crooked sign that said ‘Sparths by Iron Jack’.

“Well, if this Miss Pear is the caretaker of Witch Hazel’s, I would assume that she knows what she’s talking about when it came to those ‘weeds’ as you put them.” Starshot’s hoof stroked against some lengths of loose chain before he sheepishly hid the offending appendage at his side.

The large smith stallion let off a laugh so loud, the metal ware hanging upon the walls clicked and clanged together. “My friend, those weeds aren’t important. They're only sentimental to her. She claims her grandmother, some Hazel or something, planted them before my shop was ever built. Said the soil was perfect. Full of mineral. Which, obviously, is why a smith belongs here instead.” Eyeing the thick molten ring that he had finished molding, the stallion gave a decisive huff and nod of his head. Picking up a pair of iron tongs into his teeth he clasped the hot metal and dunked it into a nearby bucket to cool.

He spun about to face Starshot just as the mage was preparing to poke at a fine silver helmet balancing precariously atop a wooden rod. “Poor thing thinks her weeds is in danger cause of all the runoff out my shop as well as the mines down below. I haven't the heart to tell her that she should get down on her knees and thank me; the reason them bushes keep so lush this long is cause I been taking my afternoon piss in them going on fifteen years now.” Laughing again, Jack pulled the fresh, brass ring out of its bucket and flung it with expert precision onto a rack just a hair to the left of Starshot’s head. It clanked against another loop just like it.

Starshot recoiled in shock, not sure if the cause of it was the stallion’s words or his carelessness with the handling of searing hot metal. “That’s… that’s… hm,” he grunted, knowing that the next thing out of his mouth would probably be far from polite.

“Oh, Celestia help me,” Jack sighed, wiping a tear off of—and a hooful of grime onto—his left eye. “Well, that's it for the rings. Are you certain that's all you wanted? Couldn’t I tempt you with a sword or something? Battle axe? A nice silverware dish set, perhaps?”

“No, no. I really must be on my way,” Starshot said, reaching out with one hoof to touch the perfectly smooth and shiny brass rings. He retracted his limb when one of them hissed in protest. “I don't think these are cooled as yet.”

“‘Course they aren’t. Iron family technique. I'd explain it to ye’ but,” the smith scrutinized Starshot and smirked, “you probably wouldn't understand. What with your… er… condition.”

Starshot blinked. “By ‘condition,’ would you be referring to my being a unicorn?” he crowed, only to be cut short by a strong, hefty foreleg wrapping itself about his shoulders.

“We can't all have magic like that to use as a crutch, can we? Some of us needs our brawn,” Jack laughed nearly choking Starshot into unconsciousness, “and some of us needs… well, y’know. Whatever it is you lot do.” He gave the mage one firm thump on the back and walked away to remove his apron.

Starshot looked himself over and frowned when he realized he was now covered in splotches of soot. “Well, then exactly how long do you suppose it will take before the rings are cooled?”

“Oh, they'll be at their best in two hours or so,” said the smith.

“What?” Starshot groaned.

“Now, now. It isn’t all that bad, friend! That leaves us just enough time to get a couple of drinks in you. Just enough for you to tell me what that fine work of craftsponyship is about your foreleg.” He pointed a hoof towards Starshot’s watch.

“I cannot,” the mage protested, drawing one of the rings off of its hook with magic. His neck was wrenched backward before the loop could budge an inch.

“It's decided then!” Jack exclaimed ruffling Starshot’s blue mane.

The grating sound of hoof upon fur wasn’t enough to drown out the wizard’s growling.

_____________

Starshot glared down at the packed plastic bag he was carrying with disgust. “Absolutely ridiculous,” he grumbled around an orange lollipop.

A pistol. Another collectible, as if that were at all something a person like him needed at a time like this. And not just any collectible, but a brand new Colt, bought directly in-shop somewhere in 1882… or something. Could have been 1982 for all he knew.

The wizard rubbed his throbbing temples, adjusted his shades, and pulled the hood lower upon his head just to keep it all encapsulated within comforting darkness. This would teach him a lesson about going cider guzzling with an earth pony named Iron Jack. Hopefully, this current stop, the last on his list, would only take a few minutes. Then, he could scurry back to his bed in the Nowhere for some much needed rest before getting back to his work.

It was a shame that he didn’t feel up to handling those three horrible sisters immediately, but their rings still needed some tweaking, and being away from the Nowhere for too long proved quite exhausting. He'd only been gone from his home for a little over three days, and still he felt aged a proper thirty years.

The wizard sighed loudly, and checked his watch. Where was that damned shop girl with his damned wires, anyway?

“Is that a genuine Colt? In-box?”

The orange lollipop had rolled around in his mouth twice before he realized that the curly-haired woman practically breathing down the side of his neck was talking to him. When he managed to turn his throbbing eyes in her direction, his jaw dropped.

How could he have possibly missed such a glorious moment in all of his daily viewing spells?

“What's wrong with you? Cat got your tongue?” Cookie Dough asked him, leaning her elbow against the glass counter stocked with enough wires, clippers, and other metallic bits and bobs to make even Dr. Frankensteed uneasy.

“I… uh…” Starshot stammered, dropping his candy onto the floor. He licked his lips. “Aren't you Cookie Dough?” He didn't have to see her eyes beneath that cloud-like mop to tell that she was scrutinizing him.

“It depends on who’s asking,” she said, motioning again toward Starshot’s plastic bag, filled with odds and ends, “and why he's got an 1873 Colt Peacemaker in his bag.”

Having momentarily forgotten that he was, indeed, toting around a vintage gun case like a box of chocolates, Starshot passed the woman a big smile. “Oh, this? It's a collectors item. I just picked it up from the shop a few minutes ago.” At least he wasn't lying. He did, however, neglect to mention the fact that said shop had only been in business between 1880 and 1892.

Cookie smiled. “Ah, a collector. It’s old then, right? I've got an old one lying around somewhere as well, though not in as nice shape as yours. Family heirloom or something. A silly one.” She leaned in toward him. “Mind telling me how you know my name, again?”

Starshot did not hesitate, instead recollecting the evening he had spied on Aria and Cookie at her home. “You used to be in a band, right? Can't remember the name anymore, but I definitely remember that hair.”

“Couldn’t be tasked with remembering any of our songs, huh?” Cookie monotoned, sweeping her locks away just so she could narrow her eyes at him. “You remember ‘Vicious’? ‘Deadbeat’? ‘Darla’?”

Starshot’s smile faded. “I'm afraid not. It's rather embarrassing, but my attentions were more focused upon you, you see. For all of the obvious reasons.”

Cookie missed the lapse in his smile. Blinking a few times, she took a small step back and scratched her head. “Oh, I get it,” she laughed. “Well, flattery can get you pretty damn far with me, hon.” She stuck out her hand for a shake. “What's your name, stranger?”

Starshot took her hand, savoring the sensation of being so close to one who would soon learn to fear him. He had to curl his lips inward to keep from bursting out into laughter. “Joe.”

Cookie’s nose crinkled. “That's it? Joe? Not—I don't know—Tanner Hide or Dusty Trails or something?”

Starshot smirked. “No. It’s just Joe.”

“Huh. Interesting,” Cookie replied. “Okay then, Joe. In that case, I am Cookie Dough, and yea I was in Stew Pot for a couple years. You saying you were a fan?”

Starshot’s head nodded as if attached to a rusty lever. His smile was forced. “Right. Stew Pot. What a name.” He cleared his throat. “Like, I said, I just had an innocent crush on you at the time. You know how it is. Owned one album of yours, and about four posters. Got them all from a friend.” His eyes flickered toward the date listed upon his watch. Posters—bands still made those in this timeframe, right? “Never did make it to a show of yours. I was always busy. Something would always come up. It’s all rather pathetic, but there it is.”

Cookie looked at him through her haze of hair, the only clue to her emotions being the voracious chewing she was doing upon her bottom lip. She hummed to herself, stroking her chin. “I see. Well, that's adorable. I remember what it was like to be a teenager with a new crush every week.”

“Four years ago, I was twenty-nine,” Starshot quipped. He neglected to account for his ‘traveling’ by leaving an extra nine hundred years unmentioned.

Cookie balked. She rapped her knuckles against the glass counter at her side. “Err… okay. Little more awkward now, but I guess I can't fault you for that. Well, then Joe in a hoodie and sunglasses… at night... who is—” She closed her eyes and did some quick mental arithmetic “—thirty-three, and likes to collect vintage guns. What brings you to Red Wire’s today?”

Starshot grimaced whilst listening to her. She was making him sound creepy. He was being creepy again, wasn’t he? That was an issue that he had not needed to worry himself over whilst fraternizing with the three sea witches. He would have to be a bit more careful with this Cookie person. “Oh, I'm just picking up some—I forget what they're called—pots?”

“Potentiometers,” Cookie said, nodding. “What for?”

“An… er… electric violin, interestingly enough.” At his own reply, Starshot resisted slapping a palm against his forehead.

“Oh! You play the violin?”

“Actually, they're for a friend. I know nothing about it.”

“Hm. Does your buddy need an expert to put ‘em in?” Cookie asked, looking hopeful. “You know, I have this instrument repair shop near that bar, Bubbles. Always looking for more business in there. I mean, I personally don't know much about electric violin repair, but if you've soldered one pot, you've soldered them all, am I right?” She giggled.

The sound faded when Starshot did not appear as humored. Instead, he had gone near catatonic. A hunch, that sting of deja vu was burning in his brain. He looked through the glass of the shop’s front door and out into the early evening. He peered closely at the brand of bags Cookie was carrying as well as her choice of clothing.

He had seen this all before.

Closing his eyes behind his shades he ran through memory after memory of his daily viewing spells over the course of the past two months. An image flashed across his mind: Aria repairing a guitar named ‘Beauty’. Cookie and the witch playing guitars together in her shop. A bar. The tense twitch in Cookie’s shoulders over a horrible game of poker. Her paranoia and frustration as she pondered deeply over her wretch of a Siren companion, perhaps for the first time ever.

‘Hey! I saw that look! The look that you make when you're going to just make something up. I don't do that with you, Aria. So, don't do it with me. Just tell me the truth.’

‘How old are you? Like, exact number, Aria. Where were you born?’

‘I can't believe I've never asked you all this before. This is what I wanted to chat about. How do you manage to draw all the talking out of me? Me of all people, when I barely know a damn thing about you?’

That night… this night, Cookie had prodded the Siren for personal information for the first time since they had met. A sudden distrust and suspicion had been born within her. This was the night that had led to an unfortunate happenstance upon Cookie’s couch; the night that had ultimately brought Aria to him for the first time, in the middle of some lonely woods, atop a dark mountain.

The wizard bit his lip to keep from grinning. In that moment, he rejoiced that, again, his foolish uncle had been proved wrong. Good things could come from some recreational time tweaking.

He snapped out of his trance just in time to catch Cookie waving a hand before his eyes. “You work with another woman, yes?” he blurted, his tone more pressed than usual.

Cookie blinked. “I… yea, but how did youknow that?”

“I’ve passed by your shop after all, actually. Never went in, but I saw her standing outside with one of those… ” He motioned his fingers in the action of smoking.

“Cigarettes?” Cookie snorted, craning her neck in his direction.

“Yes. Cigarettes.” One of these days he would remember that blasted word. “I know of that woman.”

At that moment, a shop attendant made her way out from the backroom and toward Cookie, a small, brown box in hand. As it shook with each step, the jingle of countless electrical components could be heard from within. She placed it upon the counter near Cookie’s hand, and reached below its surface for a plastic tote. “Here are the diodes you wanted, ma’am, but I'm afraid we’re out of the proper resistors.”

Cookie, far too preoccupied with Starshot, turned only her lips toward the attendant. “Fine, honey. Whatever. Just bag ‘em up, will ya?” She blinked at the wizard. “So what? W… why do you mention Ari—... her?”

She leaned in closer as if preparing herself to recall everything about Starshot’s appearance in case she should need to later on, but by that time the wizard was already retreating toward the door. He took a deep breath as his back pressed against glass. Cookie carelessly tossed a few bills onto the counter, reaching to retrieve her supplies. “Hey, now you hold on just one second,” she said. “What about her?”

Starshot licked his lips. His fingers pressed back against the door. He squared his jaw in an attempt to look disquieted. “Whatever you do,” he said as the doorbell jingled. “Do not trust Aria Blaze. She isn’t what you think she is.”

He turned and ran, even as Cookie raced across the storeroom floor. There was a bright flash of gold as she pushed against the door and raced out into the dark street.

No one was there.
_____________

Starshot re-entered the Nowhere laughing.

A glowing orb of dancing, vibrant light was suspended between his raised hands. Checking his watch again, he rushed over to his work desk and flung open his tome of records. “What are the odds? Why hadn’t I ever noticed this before?” With one twisting hand, he rolled back the projection of time in the viewing spell until it was set to the moment just prior, in the electronics shop. His eyes glistened with intrigue. He must have rolled over that moment in this timeline a thousand times within the past few months, never even suspecting that the hooded, black-clad figure in the shop that night was himself. But to be fair, he was very heavily cloaked. That figure could have been anybody, and what would have been his incentive to ever look closer whilst Cookie was all by herself? She wasn't the one who interested him.

Picking up a pen, he began to scribble upon the page the date and time he had just seen Cookie at Red Wires.

Once again, it appears that Uncle was wrong. Perhaps Star Swirl the Bearded was neither shrewd nor intuitive enough to understand the full potential of temporal alterations. In fact, with every passing moment (or at least the illusion of it) I become more convinced this is so.

His chipper mood endured as he upended one of his freshly filled cisterns and suspended it in black space where it could be magically siphoned and ejected from the void as needed. After washing off three days worth of temporal stink, he was humming with wicked delight. By the time he fell back onto his pillow in exhaustion, he wore a smile. His bed was littered with brass, wire, and stopped potions in various stages of breakdown. One of the rings, the only one finished, was gripped tightly within his fist. As sleep encompassed him, he reached for the winding crown on his watch, giving it three full turns. The band sparked gold as his eyelids drooped.

Twelve hours could not pass quickly enough.

All Mine

...And two double cheeseburgers a large fry and a double scoop vanilla shake with whipped cream will there be anything else okay order coming right up and pick up and enjoy your meal sir come again sir and hi welcome to sammy’s what can I get for you today oh no miss we don't have a play area for children here sorry and pick up order number fifteen hi there welcome to sammy’s what can I get for you today and three barbecue burgers a jumbo basket of fries and three lemonades will that be all fellas and sure I can dance ha you guys are so funny stupid gray hair oh hey peachy no I haven't seen your apron anywhere sorry and pick up order number twenty-two and here are your onion rings one mint chocolate chip shake and one rainbow sherbet shake and one banana split shake what did you say oh you didn’t want onions on your burger I hope no more of the gray grows while anyone is watching me I'm sorry about that I suppose I just forgot to nix the burger onions since you liked onion rings cause they're not really different okay sorry sir ma’am how about some complimentary sundaes I'm so tired my break’s gotta be coming up soon oh Seas it's only been two hours j.r. do this one again with no onions please sorry hey again fellas boy you guys sure are energetic please do you mind not grabbing my hair stupid mortals are so stupid sometimes they’re making the biggest mess here’s your bill pick up order number thirty-five and oh rats I forgot to tell you that the steak is supposed to be rare not medium sorry j.r. and here’s your burger no onions those jerks didn't leave me any tip ooo I wish I could sing them silly oh right the sundaes would you like those now ma’am and I'm sorry sammy I screwed up their order and had to give them free sundaes I promise it won't happen again and yea peachy I'm fine I promise my chest burns so bad or is that my scar ugh I feel a little sick and pick up order number forty and here’s your steak sir rare just like you wanted I hate that mage so much I swear if I ever get my fist in striking distance of his stupid face well I'm glad you enjoyed your meal and would you like your check now sir dirt I’m sooo hungry it’s like breakfast barely did anything for me at all oh right it didn't and gosh pumpkin I'm going as fast as I can I wish I could have a little energy just a little teeny weeny mortal heck I'd even take the overcooked wizard sorry j.r. I'm coming pick up order forty-eight why can't everyone just shut up and leave me alone why are mortals so annoying I need a break okay peachy I know that I look tired for the bazillionth time thanks peachy oh my Seas it's still twenty minutes until my break I'm not gonna make it glad you enjoyed your sundaes folks here is your check I'm not gonna make it I need something I need something where is PATTI I need her face thank you folks come again I need to see PATTI.

“There’s gonna be a real DJ, too. I haven’t met her personally, but she and her pink shades came highly recommended. Oh! And I'm going to bake a cake. A huge one!”

“Peach, what are you talking about? You can't bake your own cake for your birthday.”

“Why not? It's my birthday, and I can do whatever I want, Junior.”

“Don't call me that, Peachy.”

“If I do, I can make it as extravagant as I want to without having to fork up half of my paycheck. And… and Sonata can help if she wants. She's an awesome baker! Remember when she baked all of those pies for you when your dog died?”

“Yea. We couldn’t even finish them all. Had to give like three of them to our neighbors. We paid the kid that mows our lawn in pies that week.”

“Plus, Sonata loves a good party. Whaddya say, Sonny? You think you'd want to help me plan and prepare? No one livens a party up like you… Well, maybe that curly-haired girl from CHS.”

“Oh, yea, I know her. She keeps coming over here and ordering like five brownie milkshakes at a time. I think she’s trying to steal our recipe.”

“Whatever. She's not even of legal drinking age, so it's inapplicable. Sonata is the perfect option. Right, Sonny?... Sonny... Sonata!”

Sonata jolted to attention. “Huh? Wh… I wasn't the one who ate all the milkshake ice cream this time!”

Peach rested her palms flat upon the restaurant table’s surface, scrutinizing the droopy Siren. “Sonny, are you feeling any better yet? I mean, I know the answer to that is no, considering you look like crap.” She tucked a pink-orange lock of hair behind her ear. “But do you think that today you might want to actually talk about it with your friends? We’re all ears, you know.” She passed Sonata a defeated smile, already knowing what the answer would be.

“Oh, I'm just a little tired. Had a long loooong night, you know? But, I’ll be okay,” the Siren replied.

Sonata was most certainly not ‘fine’. Even now, it took all of her might not to poke and prod at the swollen and aching mound of flesh in the valley of her chest. Instead, she rubbed her hands together as she was wont to do these days. Her fingers had all gone rigid, the pale skin upon them now a tinge of agitated red. The girl’s hair, once full of bounce and gloss like herself, had all but wilted like an unwatered flower. Her stamina was dying, and as it did, the hidden beast within her, usually so well encased within its adorable, fleshy shell, was beginning to peek through.

When Peach frowned, Sonata looked away. The sensation of chilling dampness upon the back of her neck reminded her of her long lost dorsal fin distending in agitation. “I'll totally help you with your cake! And your party! It'll be the best!” Her declaration sounded about as genuine as a back alley conman’s promises of good fortune and glory to come.

The corner of Peach’s mouth twitched. She took a sharp inhalation of breath, the kind one takes either before sneezing or telling someone off.

“Peach!” J.R. yelped, interrupting what would surely have become a tongue lashing of epic proportions. Reaching out, he snatched up the annoyed waitress’ arm, and gave it a squeeze. “What say you go get some lunch before your break’s over, huh?”

Finding herself too fed up to draw meaning from the look J.R. was giving her, Peach stood. Raising the hand that was holding the notepad she had been scribbling upon, the waitress slapped it down before Sonata’s tapping fingers.

The Siren didn't move. She barely seemed aware that her friend had budged at all. The lack of response stabbed at Peach. “Please, talk to her. I can't anymore,” she wavered before storming off toward the kitchen.

J.R. felt compelled to give the skin beneath his shaggy hair a few precautionary swipes in case of nervous sweat. After all, what could someone like him say to someone like her at a moment like this? Even as she sat there all worn and withered, Sonata’s aura still seemed to glow. Then again, J.R. did also find it awe inspiring whenever she did that thing where she balanced two pens on her upper lip at the same time.

Incidentally, she was doing that right now.

In his usual fashion, it took a couple gawks before the fry cook could prep his mouth for speech. Sonata, finding his dilemma boring, continued to gaze out of the diner window. One of the pens upon her lip clattered to the table. “Ducklings in party hats,” she said, scratching at her chin. The remaining pen bounced off of the table’s surface and onto the floor.

J.R.’s eyebrows arched one after the other. He cleared his throat. “D...uhh… ducklings in…” His attempt at speech mercifully ended when the girl looked at him. Her raspberry eyes, though ringed in shadow, filled him up with something just short of delight.

“Yea. Tiny little party hats,” Sonata said. “That's what I always think about whenever I feel nervous.”

J.R. chuckled at the thought before realizing that she had seen right through his facade. “I… Who said I was nervous?”

Sonata shrugged, again turning to face the window. With new understanding of her own mortality—in some ways more clear than most mortals would ever know—there just didn’t seem time enough for J.R.’s self-consciousness. “Fine. You’re not nervous then. Suit yourself.”

Things went quiet again. Instead of tan, J.R. was now a healthy shade of red. “You're stubborn, huh Sonny? You just don't know when to call it quits.” He gathered that the surprised look on Sonata’s face meant that she had heard him. “Now, I don't know what happened between you and Patti to make you so preoccupied with her; Peachy won’t tell me, but I do know that if you don't stop, you're going to screw up your relationships with the people who are actually willing to give you all of the time in the world.”

Sonata blinked at him. Notably, the cook looked far more hysterical in comparison to her apathetic coolness.

Thinking that perhaps he had said something too complex for the girl to grasp, J.R. took another deep breath. “What I'm trying to say, Sonata, is that your friends—”

“All the time in the world,” Sonata chuckled, the bridge of her nose crinkling. “You can't give me that. No one can.”

Understandably, J.R. said nothing.

This lack of response only seemed to frustrate the Siren. Her hands rested flat upon the tabletop. “Why do people say stuff like that? Impossible things that they don't even mean?” Her brow twitched. “Is it cause they want others to hurt? To poke at them with crazy dreams that can’t come true? You can’t have all the time in the world, J.R. If somebody could give it or have it, it would’ve been me. Not you. And if I can’t have it then…” She huffed and shook her head. “Forget it. You're just as phony as any other.”

Speaking of phonies, where was Patti? She should have been out on the floor over an hour ago.

J.R. balked. His lips bobbed. “Sonny, I was only trying to say that we're here for you. You should pay attention to those that actually do care. Not retaliate out of spite because of some… some waitress jerk. Peachy and I, we only want to help.”

Something old tickled and tingled in Sonata’s brain. It was unruly, rabid for release, and of that place she always had to remind herself never to speak from, never to unleash for fear that the facade of her assumed identity might fall away. Usually, she was able to listen to the words of mortals and never take the inherent idealism within them to heart. The creatures rarely ever said exactly what it was that they meant when it really mattered. This used to irritate her when she had first ventured out onto land together with her sisters in song, but she became accustomed to it soon enough. It never did seem like a problem again after that. At least not until right now.

“I've never met anyone whose feelings about anything were totally, one hundred percent honest,” she said. “You thingies lie about feelings all the time. It's totally true, and you know it.” Her eyes lazily trailed over toward the red kitchen door. “I don't believe anyone except for my sisters anymore.”

“‘You thingies?’” J.R. snorted.

“But I'll play pretend if it helps you feel better. You say your caring will last forever. Fine. Whatevs.” Her hand rubbed furiously against the flesh of her arm. “But don't blow a gasket when I play pretend that some part of Patti likes me. Even if it's just growing from jealousy. Same thing, right?”

J.R. bowed his head and rubbed his temples. “Sonata, just tell me what’s happening. You look like you haven't slept in ages, your hands are covered in cuts, and I'm not even going to ask what that dark spot is on your neck.” he said, leaning forward. “We don't have to go anywhere, do anything about it, or tell anyone else unless you want to. But holding it in is no good. Tell me what’s happening to you to make you act this way.”

Sonata sniffed. Her trembling hand swiped below her nose. The green seeping out of J.R. was stirring up a growl in the pit of her abdomen. “You wouldn't get it,” she croaked.

“Try me,” J.R. pressed.

The confidence in the cook’s tone surprised Sonata. She noted the way his shoulders squared themselves, the way his brown eyes bored into her in that way the eyes of the righteous did. Those hidden things in her ancient brain began to wriggle themselves free, riding toward her mouth upon waves of fatigue and heartbreak. Her lips parted. “You know, I probably would’ve had to get rid of you if I did this a long time ago.” She laughed at herself, not believing she was about to break the most important rule her sisters had taught her. Even still, something compelled her, drawing her words out like a fish upon a line. “I'm… I'm not who you think I am, J.R. Neither are my sisters. I mean, we are, kinda sorta. But we're also, you know… not.”

J.R. made sure to let no inflection upon his face. “Okay. That was easy enough,” he breathed, sitting up straight.

This response only made Sonata more anxious; so, anxious that she didn't notice the sudden jiggling of the kitchen door’s handle in the distance or the cream-fleshed body that stepped through it, darting straight toward the restaurant’s front door. “We’re uh...” she stammered, not quite sure how to explain being an ancient, ocean dwelling enchantress to a fry cook. “This might sound super crazy, but… you see, my sisters and I, we…”

A whisper of brown and a flash of sapphire blue zipped past the Siren’s eyes. As they did, the world slowed down so that Sonata’s brain might better capture the moment.

There Patti was, in all of her insufferable glory, looking rather upbeat, refreshed even. Her uniform was missing in lieu of a pair of dark jeans, and a cozy sweater. Trailing her like a proud peacock’s tail was an enormous plume of green energy, reeking of spite and ridicule. None of these things would have proved too startling to Sonata if it had not been for the fact that right before rushing out of the door, Patti Mint turned, shot her a vindictive smile, and performed a mock salute in her direction.

Sonata shook her head, turned around, and gazed up at the wall clock tacked into the far corner of the room. It was only noon. Too early for Patti’s break.

“Sonny?” J.R. called, drawing her attention. “You and your sisters what?”

That's right. She had been confessing to J.R. “M… my sisters…” she tried again, this time looking out toward the parking lot where Patti’s brown, flip hairstyle was currently bobbing off toward an alleyway that cut to one of the main roads. The Siren’s brow creased. “Where is she going in such a rush?”

J.R. gazed out toward the lot. Upon spotting the brunette, he groaned. “Sonata, forget her. Just pay attention to me,” he pressed, slamming his hands against the table.

Ignoring what she deemed to be a rather puny show of force, Sonata decided instead to pop up, and race off toward the kitchen door.

Pumpkin, Peach, and Candy were waiting to collect a few late morning orders from Sammy when Sonata stormed in. Marching in Peach’s direction, the Siren grabbed her by the wrist, and pulled her off further toward the locker room entrance.

“Sonny! What's gotten into you?” Peach cried, attempting to wrench her arm away.

Every eye in the room was upon them when Sonata turned around and brought her face up close to Peach’s. “What just happened with Patti?” the Siren inquired, trying and failing to keep her voice hushed. “Where is she off to so early? And why isn’t she in uniform?” What the Siren really wanted to ask was why the girl had appeared so damned jubilant when she should have been miserable.

Hearing Sonata’s concern darkened Peach’s disposition. She crossed her arms and jutted out her lip. “It doesn't matter, Sonata. Let it go.”

Sonata’s irises burned. The sclera around them ruddied to pink. The limits of the Siren’s patience had been reached. How dare any of these little creatures insist that she just “let her concerns go,” as if it were so simple a thing for someone like her to do. Didn’t they realize that she was helping them? Sparing them from her harmful nature by unleashing her antipathies upon someone who actually deserved it? If only people like Peach could understand the favor she was doing them. If only they could understand the lengths to which her malicious obsessions could grow, especially under such duress.

“Hey, hey, girls! Cool it!” Sammy cried, leaving his cook station and marching over to where the two were standing. “Sonata, sweetie, what has gotten into you?”

Taking the grill owner up on his inquiry, Sonata suddenly found herself wondering how she had gotten here, to this place where Patti had become so much more to her than what was initially intended. She was supposed to be only a distraction, a hobby, something to briefly take Sonata’s mind off of her own feelings of helplessness. How, then, had the mortal girl managed to become surrogate for whatever weak grasp the Siren had left on her own identity, her own fortitude? ‘Never allow the food to become attached to you,’ Adagio had told her. But Patti was neither food, nor had she an attachment to Sonata. She didn't need Sonata; it was Sonata that now needed her. She needed Patti so that she might empty out all of the spite and anger she could not otherwise release onto Starshot, or Starswirl, or those stupid Princesses, or those horrible, dead and buried Fylleions. She needed Patti to suffer so that she could remember a time when she was a true Siren, not weak and powerless and abused and gullible like on that ancient, Fylleion shrub farm. She needed to see the brunette’s tired, weary face often, and it always, always needed to look worse than her own. Sonata refused to be the greatest object of everyone’s ridicule and pity ever again. Those days were done.

Ignoring Sammy, she turned to face Peach again. “Do ya wanna take her place, Peachy?” she growled, standing nose-to-nose with the stunned waitress. “You and J.R. are always asking why I give stupid Patti so much attention, always talking about ‘true friendship’. Don't you get it, Peach? I'm the nicest, most generous friend you'll ever have. Don’t you know that you could’ve ended up just like Patti if I didn't like you so much? ‘Patti and me’ are so that ‘you and me’ aren’t a thing. You won't have to hurt. You won’t have to cry. So, just thank me, okay? And answer my question!”

“S… Sonny...” Peachy Keen choked, trying to stave off shock.

“We’re friends, right? So, just tell me!” Sonata screamed. She jutted a finger out toward Pumpkin and Candy. “Are you gonna treat me like they do?”

She felt a large hand upon her shoulder.

“She quit, Sonny,” Sammy said sternly, hoping that the calm in his voice would settle the raging waitress. “She came in to collect her things and she quit.”

Peach was quickly forgotten. Spinning around to face the restaurant owner, Sonata searched his face for some sign that what he’d said was a horrible joke. Finding none, she bolted toward the kitchen door.

“Sonata, wait!” Peach called after her, teetering about on jittering legs. All she received in response was the clattering of the restaurant's front door chime.

“Patricia!”

Patti spun about on her heels just as she was entering the alleyway. She smirked upon seeing who was approaching. “What do you want?”

“You can't quit, Patti. Where will you go? You know there's nothing better around here,” Sonata spat, forgoing greetings and pleasantries in light of her urgency.

“Is that so?” Patti said. “Well it turns out that I found something. Something that pays enough for me to do what I want, finish my classes, get away from psychos like you.”

The Siren edged closer, her arm shooting out to grasp at the mortal girl’s collar. Patti barely dodged out of the way, clutching her purse close to her side. “Don't touch me, you freak!”

Sonata felt hot. Her cheeks burned and her vision went blurry. One moment she thought she might vomit; the next she noted something familiar in the sensation. Her body was straining with itself to do that which was no longer possible. “Yooou-you think that losing me would b-be so easyyyyy,” she stuttered, stomping her foot when the words would not come as she wanted them to. “You know I've chased stupid m-m-moooortals like you for longer than you've even been alive? They all give in in the end. You're stubborn. I get it, Patti. But guessss-s what. So am I!”

There was a trembling in the air, one that Sonata might have recognized if she weren't so lost in her ire. “You just don't understand, do you?” she growled. Her harmless demeanor had fallen away leaving only a trembling, blue container of rage on the brink of explosion. “You… don't… get… to quit. Or leave. You're mine. And I'll keep you for as long as I want!”

With all of the defiance now drained out of her dawdling form, Patti took an unsure step backward, then another. “You really are crazy. You really, really are,” she gasped, the corner of her lip upturned into a diffident smile. “Listen, you stay away from me, okay? The next time I see you, I'm… I'm gonna call the—”

“You think you can just scamper off to wherever you want? You think then this’ll all be over or something? You are s-soooo stupid!” Sonata scoffed. Her last word reverberated through the air. She supposed it was the sound of it bouncing off of the alley’s hollows. “You think that just because those dumb Rainbooms broke our gems that changes things? Just because that lame gray guy keeps making us drain ourselves that I'll stop? I swear to the Seas, Patti, I'm gonna win! Just like I always do!” A familiar sensation of fire grew in her throat. Had anger not blinded her, she might have wondered how such a thing was possible, but as things were, she no longer cared.

“I've done this for two thousand years,” she wavered. She didn’t flinch, even when she heard melody escape her throat. Instead, she allowed emotion to wash over her like a wave. Her eyes pierced into the waitress, filled with the spite she had collected for every mortal who had ever done her wrong. “I've done this for two thousand years!” she shrieked.

Freed from the constricting dictates of secret rules and hidden identities, the Siren inhaled deeply, unhinged her jaw, and sang.

And they all bowed and they all broke,
So tell me why should you be different darling?
You'll devour my words until you choke on them,
Since your kind dooms my kin to starving.

Patti turned and ran. She made it just ten steps past the lip of the alley before slowing to a halt. Sonata smiled. Ten steps and eight seconds, just as she had predicted. Patti was, indeed, no match for her abilities.

Your little world blooms into endless beauty,
And suddenly you find your fears are gone.
A tiny voice inside, it bids you closer.
You’ve found the one to whom you’ve always belonged.
To me. You'll see.

The music swelled to surround them. Patti Mint turned about, her arms falling limp at her sides. The brunette’s eyes dimmed, her head lolled forward.

And I dig deeper with each passing moment.
I’ve hooked your very soul upon my line.
If we're to perish then just one more will witness,
The undeniability of the divine.

Patti’s fears poured from her flesh in enormous plumes. Sinking deeper into the buzz of power, Sonata edged forward, her arms outstretched, eyes darting between the brunette’s face and the delicious energy that surrounded her. It was then that the Siren felt the true nature of her ravenous hunger pains, the anguish of starvation, clenching at her insides. How long had she truly been trying to ignore them? Weeks? Months?

It no longer mattered. She had to feed.

Damn worrying about why this was possible, and damn the public spectacle she had suddenly created about herself. At one time, she had remembered why she could not sing. Once upon a time, she knew that there was something important she was supposed to do if suddenly discovered she could. Now, in the heat of the moment, starved for sustenance, all she could think about was gulping down every bit of energy that neared her. That energy would fix all of this mess. It would quicken her again, calm her temper, ease the pain in her soul, perhaps fill the gaping hole within that seemed to grow greater every day.

I've done this for two thousand years,
Patti one more makes no difference to me.

The green—vast and sparkling, pungent and saturated with life—swirled itself into tendrils aimed at her core. Patti had drawn close enough that the Siren could rest her hands upon the girl’s shoulders while impatiently awaiting what was sure to feel like the first meal she'd had in eons.

You'll see.

For just a split second before the emerald rivulets hit her chest, the wick of Sonata’s life force was rekindled. She puffed up, the rose returning to her deceptively youthful cheeks. Her eyes sparkled. Even her hair seemed to bounce back to life. In that moment, she was divinity again, shining, radiant enough to startle any mortal. Even Patti, in the depths of her daze, looked on in complete adoration.

Sonata smiled and closed her eyes.

I've done this for two thousand years,
Patti, one more makes no—

She choked. There was fire in her throat. She coughed once to clear her passageway, then inhaled. Her ruined core drew upon the meal it could no longer tolerate and the flame filled her again. This time it sent her doubling over around Patti’s shoulders, sputtering up something thick.

The song permeating the air ended abruptly, snapping Patti back to consciousness. The brunette stood there with beguiling words not her own swimming through every corner of her mind. It took a moment for her to remember that there was an entire world around her. For instance, there was Sammy’s, that great, aging box of wood and rust covered in even rustier red paint. She could hear the bell at the restaurant’s front door jingling. Four people whose faces seemed familiar were now running toward her. The group consisted of one lanky cook and three terrified waitresses. Patti looked down, remembering her purse and wondering where it had fallen. She noticed the fifth body clinging to her shoulders.

“Sonata, get off of her!” Peachy Keen cried in the distance.

Her head now clear of its fog, Patti brought her palms in and shoved Sonata in the chest. Having put just enough distance between them both, the brunette swung her arm around, and struck the Siren hard across the face. “Touch me again, loser, and I swear you'll regret it!”

Sonata’s world was blanched white, burning, and it all tasted of blood. She felt her body tilt and her fingers touch what felt like asphalt. Her cheek stung. Voices all about her were calling after Patti Mint’s well-being, but not her own. Nodding, she regained her balance and stood up tall.

So much for friendship that lasted forever. It was just as she had told J.R. A mortal’s best intentions could never be pure and true.

Red flashed before her eyes, and then she was bounding through bodies, pretty brown locks in her sights. Diving through the air, she caught Patti about the waist, and brought her crashing down into a pile of cardboard boxes. Lashing out, Sonata struck the girl again and again about the head as shocked gasps and screams called after her.

“You’re mine!” Sonata barked, half in song, half in utter fury. The shaky melody nipped at Patti, but could not take hold. Sonata watched green sputter out of the girl in puffs. Growling trickled out from the depths of her throat, a beastly sound that her human shell should not have been able to make.

“Holy shit! Somebody do something!” Pumpkin cried somewhere to the Siren’s back.

“Quick! Get Sammy!” Candy pleaded.

It no longer mattered. Sonata understood well that she had done something unforgivable. Perhaps the anger she now unleashed upon Patti was not only a result of her frustration, but also her own stupidity, and for the trouble she would surely bring down upon her already suffering sisters.

She roared, tearing at Patti’s hair until, at last, something sturdy and strong wrapped itself about her middle, and wrenched her away.

“Sonny?” an aged voice called over her shoulder.

“What?” she screamed spinning about.

There before her eyes was Sammy, looking just about as heartbroken as she might have guessed he would in such a circumstance. “Kid, what's gotten into you?” he breathed, searching her face for answers.

They stood there like that, staring at each other for what seemed like forever before Sonata felt her stomach drop. Something leaked out of the corners of her eyes. “I'm… sorry,” she sighed, knowing there was no longer any point.

“K… keep her away from me!” Patti yelled as Peachy, Pumpkin, and Candy helped her to her feet. “Did you hear what that nut was saying? Did you hear her voice? Sh… she's out of her fucking mind!”

Remembering Patti, Sonata turned about, sniffing back her tears. She had to fix this. Somehow she had to find a way. She took one step forward. “Patti, I—”

“Sonata, don't!” Peachy shouted, moving to stand between the Siren and the brunette. J.R. and the other girls soon joined her.

Sonata’s eyes went wide. Her jaw dropped. Was this picture right? Was she really watching Peachy Keen and J.R. standing beside Patti and her friends? Were they more worried for that jerk than they were for her?

“I think you need to leave, Sonata,” Peachy commanded, pointing to the main road. “Like, now.”

None of the others objected; not even J.R. Their expressions ran the spectrum between apprehension and full blown disgust.

Not knowing what else to do, Sonata turned to face Sammy, not so much looking for leniency as much as a chance for redemption. “I don't. I don't know what to say,” she murmured, tugging at the end of her ponytail. “I… I don't know what happened.” It was clear to everyone, even herself, that she was lying.

“Sonny, I think the kids have got it right,” Sammy said. “I think you oughta take some time off. Can't have this type of thing happening around here. Go get your things, Sonny. I'm gonna call you and Patti a pair of cabs. I think maybe you need to… to rest, you know? I want you to take it easy.”

“F… for how long?” Sonata inquired, her hands wringing and rolling again.

Sammy scratched at the sparse patch of hair atop his head. “I'll… I'll call ya. Alright?”

Huffing out the remaining air in her lungs, Sonata nodded her head, and gazed down at the asphalt. The Siren dared not look up to see what kind of looks she was receiving as Patti and the others made a wide berth around her on their way back toward the restaurant. “Freak,” Candy hissed under her breath.

Sonata knew she wasn't wrong.

The implication of her song only occurred to her after she had been sitting at the back of the cab for twenty minutes. Using her powers was obviously not something she should have been capable of doing, but results were results, and now only two explanations seemed feasible. Either a brand new portal had opened up in the middle of the alleyway beside Sammy’s parking lot, —or Starshot was nearby. And if the wizard was close, it begged the question--Why?

Sonata scratched at her chin, making sure to duck low beyond the window’s rim whenever an odd shadow happened to zip by.

Mmmm… okay! That wizard guy wants you alone. Couldn't come after you if Ari and Dagi were around. Duh. But why wouldn't he wait until I was on break or taking a whizz or something?
… Ew, I wonder if he watches people take whizzes. Perv.

A passing lamppost startled the jumpy Siren onto the car’s floor.

Maybe he wasn't there for me. Don't know who else would matter to him though, since everyone there is lame and awful and gross.

She swiped a finger at her nose and made a pout. Why was she even thinking about those losers anyway? They were just a bunch of jerks and fake friends. All she was doing was making herself feel even worse. She decided, instead, to think about what she would tell her sisters when she got home. There was no doubt that they would be furious with her, but it seemed a small price to pay if they’d solve this mystery. At least then she'd never have to think about Sammy Salami’s grill ever again.

Her phone’s vibrate function startled her into attention. Fumbling about in her jacket pocket, she collected the device, clicked the talk button, and pressed it to her ear. “H… hi?” she said, realizing that she had not first checked to see who was calling.

“Sonata!” Peachy Keen’s voice called through the receiver. “Where is Patti?”

Sonata’s nose crinkled. “Oh. Hi, Peachy,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “Idunno. Weren't you all supposed to be taking care of every little hair on her precious little head or something?”

“Sonata, this isn't a game. I want to know what happened. I just called Patti’s house, and she isn't there. The cabby said he dropped her off twenty minutes ago, but she won't pick up her phone or return my call.”

Sonata blinked. Her brain began to fizzle and pop. “W… wait. Why would I know what—”

“Sonata, did you go over there? To Patti’s?” Peachy screamed, on the edge of hysterics. Someone that sounded like Pumpkin could be heard cursing in the background.

“I… I didn't do anything, Peach! Believe me!” the Siren stammered, shaking her head. “I… I don't even know where Patti lives!” A thought occurred to her. She gasped. “Wait! You can tell me where she lives, and I'll take the cab over there right now. I can get to her faster that way.” Surely, such a righteous offer would redeem her in Peach’s eyes, even if just a little bit.

“No!” Peachy cried. The shuffling noise of the waitress’ coat being shoved on permeated the background din. “Listen, Sonata. Just go home. I want you to go home, and just stay there, okay? You're not well. I'll check on Patti.”

“W… why are you talking to me that way, Peachy?” Sonata snorted. It came out sounding like a laugh. “Like if I'm some sort of… some sort of…”

“Sonata, please. Just go home, alright?” Peach sighed. “You've done enough damage as it is. I'll call you later.”

The click on the other line made Sonata pause. She blinked, her mouth still hanging ajar. What in Tartarus was all of that about? Patti wasn’t picking up her phone? So what was the big deal about that? Had she and Peach agreed to call each other when the brunette arrived at home?

Pssh. So, they're best friends now? They have to call each other every two seconds? It figur—

“Shut up, Sonata! Totally not top priority!” the Siren hissed to herself, drawing a wary look from the driver in his rear view mirror.

Why was Starshot at the restaurant?

She clamped onto the sides of her head, and bent over, forcing herself to think harder.

Just to watch me look stupid in front of everyone or something? Just to let me know that he was watching?

As the answer dawned on the Siren, her eyes grew wide.

“Everything alright back there?” the driver called. “You… ah… you feeling sick or something?”

“N… no, I…” Sonata breathed, her attention dipping away as revelation after revelation revealed itself to her. “What is your cab company number?” she asked, remembering she now had a portable phone. Typing the number in as the driver relayed the information, she then pressed the receiver to her ear.

“Jiffy Cab Co.,” a nasally voice said on the other line.

“Hi, yea! I ordered a cab down at Sammy Salami’s Grill for a friend maybe thirty minutes ago, but… ummm…”

Come on, Sonata! For once, be a good liar!

“B-but the driver just called saying he wanted extra cash!”

Eh. That'll work.

“I thought you guys figure all that stuff out beforehand!”

“Y… yes, ma’am, we do! Hold on, let me check my books here,” the man stuttered over the sound of frantically flipping pages. “Okay, we've got two cabs at Sammy’s about ten minutes apart. First one was going to 822 Old Canter Way.”

No. That was her own address. “Not that one,” she replied. “The other.”

“325 Sweetgum Lane,” the man said. The pitch of his voice had somehow managed to jump higher. “Of course it would be Larry driving, that knucklehead. You want I should call him up?”

“No, no, that’s alright,” Sonata shot. “I'm near that place right now. I'll head over and deal with it.”

“Okay, Miss. You or your friend have any problems, tell Larry to call in!” the man urged her before hanging up.

Sonata leaned onto the back of the driver’s seat. “Hey, Mister… uh… driver guy, there's been a change of plans. Do you know how to get to Sweetgum Lane?”

_____

“Patti? Patti, you home?” Sonata called, knocking on the door at 325 Sweetgum whilst ringing the bell. It never occurred to her that she was yelling and making a spectacle of herself in the middle of a sparsely spaced residential block. “Patti! I just want to make sure you're there! Scream at me or something! You can even throw a shoe out of the window if you wanna!” No reply. Rubbing anxiously at her hands, Sonata looked around for some other point of entry. She would have to make this trip quick. Peachy was probably going to show up pretty soon.

Making her way around to the side of the house, she took the opportunity to squint through one of its darkened windows, and found herself gazing into an impeccably clean living room. “Gosh. Didn't know she was such a neat freak,” she muttered to herself. Pressing the sides of her palms around the corners of her eyes, she gazed off toward a shadowed corner of the room where a passageway veered right down a hall. Just for a second, she swore one of those shadows moved. “Patti? Is that you?” she called, tapping lightly on the glass. Receiving no reply, she sighed and rested her hands upon her hips.

That settled it. She would have to break in. Fortunately, this wouldn't prove to be too big of a hassle for someone like her. Rooting around the edge of the house, the Siren found a hand shovel lying next to a small garden plot. Collecting the tool, and making her way back to the window, she jammed what she could of its metal edge into the crack between the pane and the sill. Pulling down with all of her might, she soon heard the loud ‘snap’ of the pane lock breaking. Pushing down again, she watched as the window slid open with ease. Thankfully, Patti hadn't thought it necessary to invest in a security alarm.

Wiggling her way into the living room, Sonata thudded onto its cream-colored carpet, and ended up rubbing her head for two minutes before managing to stand. Dusting herself off, she headed toward the passage that led down the hallway. As she turned the corner, something darted into a side door just within her peripherals. “Patti, please! Just answer me, and I'll leave! I swear! Just say something, and I'll walk out right now!”

No reply.

Edging her way down the hall, Sonata turned to peek into the room where she’d seen the shadow disappear. The first thing she noticed upon entering was that a lamp was lit inside; the second being that this was a bedroom. After entering, she shut the door behind her so that she could hear if anyone were to come in or leave. Drawn to the single source of light in her otherwise darkened surroundings, Sonata glanced down upon the lamp’s nightstand.

It was littered with picture frames and jewelry, the type of jewelry that would never go well with Patti’s color scheme. “Geez. Tacky,” she mumbled before remembering that there was a chance Patti was in the room with her. “Oops. I mean... I didn't mean that!”

After a few seconds with no response, she eyed the photos upon the stand. Her brow furrowed when she noticed that Pumpkin was featured in every one of them. Scratching her head, she looked around the room again, taking in the orange and brown color scheme. Then it occurred to her. This was Pumpkin’s house. Patti must have been staying with her after losing her own rental. “Gross,” Sonata groaned, slamming the nearest picture down flat upon the nightstand so that she wouldn’t have to look at it. As she did so, something fluttered up from the wooden surface and floated to the ground.

Now there upon the green carpet sat a small, white square of plastic. Approaching it, the Siren soon recognized it as an instant photograph, the kind that she used to collect in a shoebox for fun about forty years ago. She picked the photo up and brought it close to her face. It surprised her to find that this particular photo did not feature Pumpkin Spice, but depicted Patti instead.

The mortal girl was dressed in the same clothing that Sonata had seen her wearing at Sammy’s that day, so the photo definitely had been taken recently. Its backdrop was the same wall of the bedroom that Sonata was now facing. What was most startling about the image, however, was the look on Patti’s face. The girl was gazing directly into the camera—or perhaps at the one taking the photo—with a look of shock. The photographer seemed to have captured her in that fleeting instant that exists in the space between realization and terror.

“P… Patti?” Sonata said, her voice nothing more than a squeak. She was hard-pressed to draw her eyes away from the photo, even when she heard a tiny, metallic click come from below her chin. By the time she turned about to stare into two burning gold eyes, the metal ring had already been closed about her neck.

“See? Patience,” Starshot said, shooting the Siren a wicked grin. “Had your sister understood that, she would not be covered in bruises.”

The mage leapt back as Sonata swung a fist at him. He lifted his hand. The appendage glowed bright. “Calm down, little creature, or you’ll get one right where I hit you last time!”

“Where is she? What did you do with her?” Sonata cried, wrenching the bedroom lamp up from the stand and chucking it in Starshot’s direction.

The mage dodged out of the way, sending a blast of magic just to the side of Sonata’s head. “Calm down or I’ll disappear, and you shall never see her again!”

Terrified, Sonata’s body went into its natural mode of defense. She brought her palms up to her cheeks, and rubbed the heat out of them whilst fighting off the sudden urge to sing. She wanted to cry, scream, tear the jerk limb from limb with whatever strength she could muster. Instead, she thought of what her sisters might do in such a situation, and took a deep breath. “Where… where is she?”

Starshot beamed. His smile might have been a pretty thing if he hadn’t already been judged a scoundrel. “Much, much better, Sonata Dusk.”

The sound of her name upon his lips sent a chill up her spine. “Shut up,” she wavered. Her knees were knocking together. “Tell me where Patti is. If you've hurt her I'll—”

“You'll what? Sing?” Starshot scoffed, inspecting the tip of a blade he had drawn from one of his pockets. “Your friend… Yes. Well, she is fine, though I don't know why you would very much care. I was under the impression that you despised the girl.”

“Bring her back,” Sonata spat, tugging upon her metallic collar.

Starshot appeared wholly unimpressed. The knife twirled between his fingers. “I'm afraid that isn't the way any of this is going to work,” he said. He pointed the blade’s tip in Sonata’s direction. “You are the one wearing the ring. So, I would suggest that you listen to me.”

Sonata huffed, giving her collar one more fruitless tug.

“Now, now, no need to feign righteousness. We both know why you showed up here,” Starshot prodded. “You’re in a bit of a bind, aren’t you, little creature? Though I cannot say it isn't warranted.”

The mage wasn't wrong. Sonata’s antics over the past month had given her acquaintances good reason to suspect that she was cruel, a liar, perhaps just the teeniest bit deranged.Now everyone was going to assume that she was the reason why Patti Mint had disappeared.

Sonata puffed up with rage. Her cheeks went red.

“Believe me, you will be blamed for this. And with surveillance and tracking not being very rudimentary in this particular plot of time, it shall prove difficult for you or your kin to run and hide as you might have fifty years ago.”

“What… what do you want, then? How do I get her back?”

Fascinated by what he deemed her mockery of sincerity, Starshot allowed his weaponed hand to fall to his side. “Simple. An exchange. Come with me, and the mortal girl goes free.”

Sonata searched around for some means of escape before reminding herself that escape was not currently an option. “N… n-n… no,” she croaked, if only to let the universe’s record show that she did try to be brave and defiant when it mattered.

Calling her bluff, Starshot straightened his back, and stretched out his arms. An ethereal glow emanated from somewhere within his jacket. “Suit yourself. Goodbye forever.”

“Wait!” Sonata cried, bounding forward.

The mage’s magic receded, its blinding light making way for a victorious grin. “Yes?” he chirped, arching a single, blue eyebrow.

The Siren gnawed voraciously upon her bottom lip. Her hands rolled one over the other until the skin upon them began to chafe. “Will… will you take me to Patti?”

Starshot smirked. “Yes.”

“M-my sisters are gonna find you, you know. They'll figure this all out.”

“Oh, I'm counting on it. In fact, I'm quite certain that they will,” Starshot replied, reaching out toward her. “Time magic, remember?”

Sonata recoiled at the sight of his opened hand, the same hand that had hurt her the evening before. “How do I know that you're telling the truth? You mortal thingies lie all the time. How do I know that Patti isn’t already… already…”

“Dead?” Starshot finished. “Not that you are in a position to question me, but I'll have you know that I try to avoid the death of innocents if it isn’t for the greater good. Patti Mint is of little consequence to the rest of this story, Siren. As soon as I get what I want, then the girl shall be free to go on with the rest of her life in her world.” The mage lifted his chin and sneered. “Otherwise, I'll set her loose in some distant dimension where the fiercest mage shan’t ever dare to find her. Now, come along!” He shook his arm, urging the Siren forward.

Sonata gulped down some courage, and gingerly stepped forward. Reaching out, she took his hand. Her trembling fingers were rendered still in his vice-like grip. The mage yanked her to his side, and she recoiled at the layered scent of him—cinders, worn leathers, and powerful rage. Feeling an arm go about her middle, she tried to pull away, and was steadied by a hand squeezing either side of her jaw.

“Do you wish to spend the rest of your miserable life wandering a dimension where everyone exists in pitch blackness?” he asked her as a parent would an insolent child.

Sonata shook her head as much as his tightly gripped fingers would allow. She felt a tear streak down her cheek. Damn it all, she had meant to put on a Siren’s show of courage, not blubber like a guppy.

“Good,” the mage said. “Then I would suggest you do not attempt to fight or sing during our journey. If I happen to drop you along the way, I shan’t guarantee that you will be found again.” Straightening his jacket, the mage gripped onto Sonata one more time, and raised his glowing arm to the sky. “Hold on tight.”

Sonata barely had a chance to shut her eyes before a crack like lightning momentarily deafened her. A powerful energy drew her up off of the ground and forward. The air whipped past her face with such ferocity that her skin began to sting. For nothing more than her growing terror, she held fast to Starshot’s shoulders, burying her face into his jacket. When at last the crack resounded again and the brutal winds ceased, an unnatural silence surrounded her the likes of which she had not known since the very beginning of her life. Blackness extended beyond her sealed eyelids. Her feet met with solid ground though she did not hear them land.

Frightened and distraught, she whimpered into Starshot’s coat, only to be shoved away mercilessly. Her arms flailed about, searching for something to latch onto for comfort’s sake. She kept her eyes shut, afraid of what they might see were they to open. “D… don’t leave me here,” she cried, taking a step forward in a random direction that was as good or bad as any other.

“Open your eyes,” Starshot sighed somewhere in front of her, sounding rather disgusted.

“No. I don't want to!” she croaked, lumbering forward toward the mage’s voice.

“Fine,” he replied, walking away. “Then you shall be lost to the void.”

“N-no, wait!” she protested, tripping forward and hitting the floor hard. Rolling up onto her knees, she rested her trembling hands into her lap and began to weep. “Adagio? Aria?... P...Patti?” she called quietly.

Only the silence persisted. The darkness endured.

Author's Note

Honestly, do you really wanna hear me give you another inadequate excuse? :ajsleepy:
Regardless, I'm not going anywhere and neither is this fic. :rainbowdetermined2: My non-pony work has just been picking up in a rather absurd way. Honestly, it's kind of suspicious to me. But, there it is.

Otherwise, here is the direct link for the song featured in this chapter: 'To Me'.
And here is the instrumental version:
https://youtu.be/n7qS44q_Ek8
(I post that simple little link to that simple little song as if it didn't absolutely destroy me to get it done. haha)

When to Quit

"Hey Ari?"

"Yea?"

"Something weird's going on, isn't it?"

"Always.”

"Why are you being so nice to us?"

"I already explained this to Adagio, so please—"

"Tell me!"

"Sonata, what did I tell you about bothering me while we were up here?"

"Okay, fine. Don't tell me. I already know it's because of what Adagio said. I know it's cause you think this is all your fault, because of that time dude's wife. Dagi thinks it's her fault, too, even though she won't say it out loud anymore. But you two don't have to feel that way, Ari. We can figure it all out better together!"

Together.

_____

Aria gasped for air. Her head reeled. The pen fell from her shaking hand. An unbearable sadness enveloped her as she keeled forward, bracing herself upon the bed. “Sonata!” she croaked, not knowing why she had done so.

And then the feeling was gone.

She rubbed at her chest, and inhaled deeply. Reaching out, she grabbed her phone which was lying a small distance away on top of her rumpled, flattened pillow.

The text screen remained blank for quite a while. That at least made sense—she hadn’t been having luck with writing much of anything today anyway. Still, the hint of pain left buzzing in her chest was jarring enough to warrant her reaching out to her sister, as uncharacteristic an action as that might have seemed. If only she could calm her mind long enough to figure what she should say to her.

In the end, she settled on a simple, ‘Yo.’ Those who knew her well--Sonata being one of the two--also knew that she initiated conversation only when it really mattered. And a girl like Sonata barely needed much incentive to reply to a willing, somewhat amicable text from a sister like her, anyway. Her response would surely come.

So, Aria turned her focus back onto the other pressing matter at hand. “Holy shit, why is this the hardest thing ever?” She tore another leaf of paper from her notepad, balling it up, and tossing it over her shoulder.

About five hours had passed since she had locked herself away in the dank darkness of her cluttered room to write out what she’d hoped would be a suitable outline for an apologetic exchange between Cookie and herself when they finally spoke. To mention that it was not going well was an understatement.

Tentatively, she picked up her pen and began her ninth attempt:

‘1. Apologize. That comes first and foremost because you are the hugest ass, and you know it. So, just say sorry. It doesn't matter what for. It's for everything.

2. Ask her “What's been going on with She's gonna ask about the fucking letter, you idiot. Do not shy away from that letter or else she WILL get angry. Then she might come over here, and you'll have to listen to the yellow-one bitch and moan about it for days. YOU talk to Cookie about that letter, and YOU ask to go over THERE.

3. Bring beer. Like, the fancy stuff. Like the stuff that tastes like gas station tap water but has contemporary art on the label.
NOTE: Borrow some guap from Adagio for beer.

4. Look cute. That’s always natch, because you're just a cute bitch, but like… be really cute this time. Wear perfume or something.

5. Pet her fucking dog and act like you like it. She'll go easier on you when you tell her you sliced your goddamn wrists open because you're tired of living this shit immortality outside of your monstrous true form. Also, tell her that she’s a really, really big exception to that shit immortality you just mentioned. Tell her she’s amazing, and you were just really desperate and confused, and you kind of just fuck yourself up sometimes by force of habit, and all you wanted was to be near her, and Relax. Too much, too fast is not a good thing. You know that.

6. This would be a good point to change the subject. Segue into the topic of that glorious jackass Starshit and his magical shining hole full of Tell her she's in danger and why. She's not gonna believe you because she just won’t. You can’t tell her your entire story, but idunno, maybe a hug or something might fix it? Cookie likes hugs, right? I don't know. Cookie and Sonata or something… Honestly, if she isn’t baking you the hugest blackberry dessert or sucking the skin off of your skull at this point (hey, a girl can dream) then you're probably screwed anyway. Go home.

Summary: Worst case scenario: she goes on with the rest of her normal, peaceful, SAFE life and never speaks to your dangerous ass again because she thinks you are out of your mind (which she wouldn’t necessarily be wrong about). Best case scenario: anything that isn't that reaction that I just said.

NOTE: Please… please don't find a way to fuck this up again.’

Aria bit her lip, and tapped the pen tip against the pad a couple times before nodding her head. “I think we've got a winner… and by winner I mean, the least shitty loser.” Tossing the pad down onto her bed, she padded over toward her closet, wriggled into the lovely pair of jeans she’d excavated from its depths upon her first visit to Cookie’s, and then headed toward her dresser.

She had barely begun pulling a comb through her locks when the doorbell rang. It resounded two more times before she slammed the piece of bent, black plastic down. “Adagio!” she called out of her open door. “I'm not a maid, dammit! You answer it sometimes!” The chime rang out four more times before she remembered that she was home alone. Sighing loudly, she grabbed her phone, and rushed out of the room.

“What?” she screamed, wrenching the door open only to find an anxious-looking Peachy Keen standing there. The delicious-smelling energy pouring out of the waitress’ head made Aria’s jewel scar ache. “Hey! It's… Peach or whatever,” she mused, reveling in the delectable scent. “Sonata’s not here.”

Peach’s eyes went wide. She leaned into the doorway, forcing Aria back. “She's not? Listen, you've got to help me find your sister, Aria. I think something is wrong!”

Aria’s disdainful smirk faded into a worried grimace. “Wrong? What’s wrong? Isn't she still at that greasy burger joint?”

“No, listen. She… she attacked someone… another girl today,” Peachy said, clasping her hands together. “It's too long to explain, but I think they're both in trouble.”

Aria sighed, dragging a palm down the center of her face. “Let me guess. It was that Mint chick.” That little blue dolt. She had warned her about Patti long ago, and of course Sonata had refused to listen to her good advice.

“Yes! Do you know anything about it? Has Sonata told you anything strange, like why she's been so preoccupied with her?” Peachy inquired, taking another step past the threshold in Aria’s direction. “I know it's so late to be coming to you with this mess, and I'm sorry, but I just didn't think that it would ever get this—”

“Whoa. Please relax. Personal space,” Aria said, holding a finger out to measure an acceptable distance between their bodies. Satisfied that the waitress would advance no further, she trailed a finger across the top of her upper lip, and set herself to thinking. Of course Sonata had said plenty of strange things about Patti since she’d begun feeding her obsession for the girl. How strong her energy smelled for example. This weird penchant she had for remembering what the brunette’s face looked like whenever she cried. Their inevitable futures together as the “best of friends”. That little weirdo was off of her leash again, and Aria couldn’t find it in herself to be surprised that the inevitable had finally happened.

Still, their ways were their ways...

“No. She hasn't ever said anything strange about Patti. Just that the broad was a jerk is all.”

“Okay, well, I don't know where either of them are, and they're not picking up their phones!” Peachy cried, wringing her hands out.

Aria paused. Her jaw gaped just slightly. “Y… you can't… What do you mean you don't know where they are right now?” she asked for clarity sake. She wanted to be absolutely sure about the information she was receiving before decidedly panicking.

“I mean exactly what I said,” Peach pressed. Her hands now clenched into fists. “She and Sonata both took cabs home, and now it seems as if the two of them have just disappeared off the face of the earth!”

“That Mint girl’s place. Y...you check there already?” Aria asked. Perhaps this Peachy chick was just a worry wart. Perhaps she was just over-exaggerating, jumping to conclusions. For all she knew Sonata was down at Sugarcube Corner right now, replacing the hole in her spirit with about five pounds of sweets.

“She was staying with Pumpkin,” Peach replied, pressing a palm to her forehead as if she were about to faint. “Just came from there. There was an open window. Called the cab company, and they said that the driver dropped Sonny off there. So, I climbed inside of the house just to, you know, see.”

“And?” Aria pressed. “What did you see?”

“No one home,” Peach said. “But I found something weird. I… I found a bunch of this, like, sparkly gold stuff in the—”

Aria’s boots and jacket were on in an instant. “Out of my way!” she screamed, shoving past the stunned waitress without so much as a word of gratitude for stopping by. Running toward the edge of the walkway, she cut a quick left toward the main road.

For a bruised up, two thousand year old, habitual smoker, Aria still made pretty good time. Reaching into her pocket while running, she pulled out her phone, dialed into it, and pressed the device to her ear. It rang once.

Then again.

One more time.

“Come on, dammit!” she screamed just before someone picked up on the other line.

“Cookie’s instrument repair an—”

“Mud!”

“Blaze? That you?” Muddy Wheeler breathed. “Well, hell, doll. How you been? You all done tightening them loose screws? Miss me?”

“Listen, Mud, I don't have time for that right now. Is Cookie around?”

“Geez, Blaze. Someone disappears off of the planet for two months, a man kinda wants an explanation. What in the world—”

“Is Cookie there?” Her scream was enough to stop the repair man in his tracks.

“Well, naw. She ain't here. Called in sick this morning.”

“Wait, so she's been home today? All day? Alone?” Aria croaked, her heaving breaths nearly catching in her throat.

“Well, y… yea,” Wheeler replied.

“And… and she hasn’t called to check on you or…”

“Naw. Why would she?”

“Because why would she trust you with her shop?”

Now the panic had set in. Aria found that even she could not answer that question. Cookie would never leave Wheeler alone at her business all day without so much as a phone call. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” she screamed, shoving a few passing pedestrians out of her way.

“What's the matter, Blaze? The way you’re sounding, it's… Tell me what happened,” Muddy said.

Aria mustered up some composure. Things were hectic enough. The last thing she needed was for Wheeler to run off ‘to the rescue’ and get himself killed by attempting to give a crazed mage a noogie. Even he deserved a more honorable demise than that. “I got it, Mud. Just… just stay at the shop, okay? Make sure it's alright. Cookie wouldn't want you to leave, as useless as you are. I just have to talk to her about something really, really important is all. Alone.”

Silence stretched on for a few moments. Then Wheeler gasped. “Wait, wait, wait a minute. Is Cookie called out sick cause she's with somebody? How do you know all of that, Blaze? She don't tell me nothing!”

Aria balked. “What? I… No, I—”

“You going over there to make some big, homewrecking confession, aintcha? Well, screw that, sister; I want to see this. I'm gonna throw a fourth wheel on this situation if you catch my drift!”

Aria balked. “Wha—Four wheels defeats the entire point of the—No, Wheeler, this… this isn't like that! Shut up! Why did I even call you anyway? Just stay the hell where you are before she fires you!” Without waiting for a reply she hung up the phone.

Needing a moment to catch her breath, Aria came to a sudden halt. Bracing upon her knees, she let off a loud scream. If she were to be honest with herself, the sensation was rather rejuvenating. Stretching out her back, and looking around in a far more clear-headed state, she noticed that a few feet away from her was a bus stop. “Oh, blessed Seas,” she said, stumbling over to collapse onto its bench.

Sundown had nearly turned to dusk by the time she arrived at Cookie’s. By then, she had settled into a grim calm.

From its exterior, nothing about the cream-colored house seemed amiss. Figuring it was best to be cautious, she rounded the property from front to back, even going so far as to search through the backyard bushes before ending up again on the doorstep. Staring intently at the painted wood, she fumbled around in her jacket pocket for the old cigarettes and lighter she knew were still there. The lighter sparked once, twice before it lit up. Firing up her cig, Aria inhaled deeply, and along with the numbing fumes, willed herself to take in some calm.

So, why were her hands still shaking?

“The car’s still here. No lights on inside,” she said, blowing smoke. “She could be asleep.” Wheeler said she’d been sick, right? Perhaps she had just never bothered to get out of bed at all that day.

Aria pulled again upon the smoke. Her throat burned, and she did not feel any more relaxed for her efforts. Her brow creased when she realized she would have to break into the house, even before she had ever pressed the doorbell. A gut feeling told her that no one would answer if she were to do so, anyway.

Glancing out of the corner of her eye, she noted that all was calm and quiet next door. Perhaps Marsh was asleep, or better yet, not home at all. Good. That meant the retired cop wouldn't mind it when she smashed in Cookie’s kitchen window.

Broken glass collected into the sink followed by the cinders from her dropped cigarette. Ignoring the scrapes glass shards left upon her already bruised arm, Aria reached through the pane to unhook the lock, then easily slid the window open with the edge of the crowbar she had found inside of Cookie’s car trunk. Hopefully, upon realizing her righteous intentions, Cookie would forgive her for being an acceptable lock pick at best, a master vandal at worst.

Climbing up to slide her slim frame through the window, Aria barely missed the sink before she went tumbling down onto the kitchen floor. “Son of a b—” Her curse was cut short as she listened to a light skittering sound hurrying across the tile and into the next room. Her head darted around just in time to see a white, fluffy tail disappear through the doorway. “Geez. Pudding?” she called, rolling onto her hands and knees. The lighting was dim. It took a moment of rapid blinking and swearing for her lack of pegasus vision before the state of her surroundings became clear.

The scene occurred to her gradually, like pieces of a puzzle coming together. In the kitchen, things were in utter disarray. Plates were dropped from their gaping cupboards and lay cracked upon the floor. Napkin holsters and various food items from the fridge had been smashed against the opposite wall. There had been a scuffle here; that much was clear. “Pudding!” Aria called again, rising to her feet. Her voice came weaker this time.

She heard a small whimper waft out of the living room.

Picking up her crowbar for comfort’s sake, she tip-toed across the floor to brace her back beside the door. Spinning into the corridor, she swung the length of steel out to the front of her body only to find darkness stretching out before her on either side. Her breath was coming faster now. The trace of a strong, familiar scent agitated her nose. Huffing frazzled strands of fringe out of her eyes, she turned to continue her trek toward the living room.

Chaos. The couch, once such an inviting fixture in Cookie’s house—a poofy, cream-colored emblem of warmth and comfort like the shop owner herself—now lay completely overturned, half torn to shreds. Upon further inspection, Aria concluded that the tears had been made by blade.

She gasped. The crowbar hung listlessly at her side as it dawned on her that her worst fears had come to pass. Her face went red hot. The room began to spin. “Please,” she breathed into empty air, forcing her legs forward so that she might explore some more. Picture frames lay cracked upon the floor. Cookie’s guitars as well as her wall of awards were scuffed and in disarray. As she went around the room, Aria could not shake all of the haunting possibilities of what Starshot might have done to Cookie Dough, and all because the mage knew how much the mortal meant to someone like herself. Her free hand instinctively reached beneath her arm to prod at her ancient purple bruise. “Please, please…” she continued on.

The smell of Starshot’s hatred was strong in here. She swiped at her nose a few times. Pudding was whimpering somewhere close by. When she turned to walk toward the rear of the couch, she found a puffy white tail whipping about beneath a fallen curtain. She drew the fabric back. Her crowbar went clattering to the floor.

“No.”

There, about two feet from Pudding’s nose, was a small puddle of half dried blood. Lying near its center was a worn, Equestrian dagger.

“No.”

Her body began to tremble. Reaching down with an unsteady hand, she grabbed up the dagger to study it closely, not caring that stale blood now coated her fingertips. The blade was the proper style and the proper weight. Indeed, it was Starshot’s.

Something wet slid down her cheek. An indescribable numbness washed over her. Even more than usual, the world felt colder, crueler. A growl grew in the depths of her core as she stared at the her reddened hand, the bloodied blade. If anything, this was the stuff that havoc-thirsty Sirens were born of.

Her throat began to burn. Her eyes flashed red. Good. That meant that time bastard was close, and just in time. A deadly song gestated in her brain. Ethereal echoes bounced off of the trembling walls. Today that mage would die. Some way, somehow, it would come to pass.

A terrified whimpering reminded her that someone else was in the room with her. The sound of Pudding’s jangling collar following him around to the opposite side of the couch broke Aria from her trance. The red faded from her otherwise purple eyes as she looked around for the dog. She couldn't help but feel horrible for startling the poor creature after everything he’d probably gone through.

“Pudding, c’mere,” she said, shoving the dagger into her jacket pocket. Eventually, she found the dog cowering with his head beneath the rumpled rug. Gently placing her clean hand upon his back, she gave him a few comforting rubs before he decided it was safe enough to take a peek at her. “Sorry, dog,” she said, scratching the tip of her nose. “Didn't mean to scare you. This is the second time, too, huh? Maybe we could do this whole thing over again, yea?”

Tentatively, Pudding turned and made his way up to her. He sniffed at her hands and hair a few times before giving it all one big, redeeming lick. “Oh, goood. Cause I asked for a shower,” Aria said, rolling her eyes. Wiping her hand off upon the rug, she then stood. “You must be starving, huh? Well, you and me both, buddy.” The dog let out a sad whimper as if to inquire as to why Aria insisted on being so callous. Feeling only slightly guilty, Aria scratched at the top of her head. “I mean, at least we can do something about your empty belly,” she said, spinning about to rush toward the kitchen. “So, get a move on, dog! I ain’t gonna ask you twice.”

Another cigarette flickered to life as she kicked the back door open. “Go in the bushes, okay? Not the middle of the yard. Show a little decorum, will ya?” she said while watching Pudding rush through the opened frame. The pooch took a lap around the gate perimeter just to burn his extra frustrations off before settling down somewhere near a corner shrub. “G’boy,” she muttered to herself.

Sliding a box over to hold the door ajar, she then headed over to the lower kitchen cupboards. Rooting around within them, she came upon an enormous, aquamarine sack of dog food. “Ah. The good stuff. The good stuff always comes in blue… ‘cept Sonata.” She froze after remembering that her sister was probably in terrible trouble. Whatever guilt she felt for having said such a terrible thing was taken out upon her bottom lip which she chewed upon furiously until able to bury her horrid feelings in her subconcious where she usually decided to put them.

She nearly strained her back attempting to lift the enormous sack of food out onto the floor. “Geez. Do you really need a three year supply all at once, Cookie?” Opting to drag the bag out instead, she then grabbed a clean mug, filled it to the brim with food, and emptied its contents into a large bowl. She placed it down onto the ground just as Pudding was walking through the door. He sniffed at the meal, then whimpered.

“What?” she shrugged. It took a moment of reasoning for Aria to theorize what was going on. She passed the dog a weary smirk. “Cookie usually throws some fancy chef crap on top of this for you, doesn’t she?” Pudding wagged his tail as if agreeing with her. “Figures,” she scoffed, shaking her head. Turning to dig around in some more cupboards, eventually she extracted from their depths a brown jar. “Listen, I don't have filet mignon in my pocket, okay? But if you’ll stop being a spoiled brat and eat, I will dump a whole heap of this here peanut butter on the thing. Deal?”

Pudding barked gleefully.

She couldn’t help but crack a smile as she watched him munch down his meal. “Don’t hold back on my account or anything,” she muttered, blowing a puff of smoke out of the corner of her mouth. Searching around, she found a giant, metal dish, the kind typically used at buffets. She filled it to the brim with water before plopping it on the ground beside the dog’s food dish. Then, moving about to the giant food bag, she extended her boot, and nudged it over. Mountains of brown bits spilled out onto the floor.

Understandably, Pudding eyed her as if she had gone mad, but quite possibly in a good way.

“Don't look at me like that. You're gonna make this work for a few days, okay? I'm sure Mud will show up by then whining about his having to work the shop by himself. He likes dogs. He'll take care of you.” Pudding huffed almost skeptically. Aria chuckled. “I know. Ditto.” Then she remembered that she was currently holding a conversation with a dog.

Shoving her pack and lighter back into her pocket, she snatched up the dagger she had discarded near the sink, and headed out toward the foyer.

The acrid scent of ancient hatred still lingered in her nose as she burst out of the front door, on a beeline for Marsh’s. She no longer cared how she looked, or what might happen if he were to expect ill of her. For humanity’s sake, she was forcing a state of calm upon herself, but Chaos help anyone who willingly made themselves a target for her ire today. She had questions that demanded answers, like why would an ex-cop not be able to see or hear the wild scuffle that had clearly taken place right next door? Why, when he had noticed Cookie’s car was not gone, would his instinctive paranoia not force him to check up on her?

“Useless sack of crap,” Aria growled as her fist pounded upon the former officer’s front door. She received no reply. Perhaps he really had not been home after all.

Making a quick trek across Marsh’s porch, Aria attempted to peek through a sheer curtain into what appeared to be the living room. She was astonished to see the television switched on. Squinting to focus, she tried to make out if anyone was watching, and gasped when she recognized the shape of two slippered feet extending outward from a nearby recliner. Marsh was home.

Rushing to the door, she pounded upon the wood, harder this time, yelling at the top of her lungs. “Marsh! I need to talk to you!” Still no response. Finding this perplexing, she moved to the second front window and peered through the very corner where, thankfully, the curtain could not reach. Directly in front of her was the rear of Marsh’s recliner. His head very clearly rose above its height. She extended her finger, preparing to tap upon the glass until, to her horror, she realized that all about him, in a faint haze, glowed an aura in gold. Her fist pounded against the sill. “Fuck.”

As if by clockwork, a loud, agitated bark echoed out from Cookie’s house. Aria gasped, stunned into attention. “Pudding?” The dog barked again before the sound was abruptly stifled into an injured whimper.

Aria was off like a bullet. Flipping the bloody dagger about to grip it firmly by its hilt, she rounded the corner into Cookie’s backyard, and in through the kitchen door. Pudding was not in sight, but his whimpering was audible in the living room.

Aria raised her dagger in preparation, almost certain of what she would find there. When she spotted Pudding leashed and muzzled in a corner, she ran headlong through the doorway, not caring to check for anything that might have been to either side of it. In hindsight, she might have avoided the suffocating yank about her neck by taking a bit of precaution, even with something as simple as a raised fist.

Her neck was always going to be a point of contention with this guy, wasn’t it?

The dagger went flying from her hand. She careened onto the floor as something cold and metallic clamped shut over the loosened bandages about her throat. The sensation was familiar. She felt around until her fingers touched brass. “Son of a…” she grumbled, attempting to pull free. When she saw that she could not move away from the doorway another inch, she turned to find a long strip of worn leather attaching the brass ring to a small anchor that had been freshly drilled into the wall.

“Efficient for controlling unruly beasts,” a familiar voice asked from the area about the overturned couch.

Turning around, Aria watched as Starshot casually lifted the sofa back onto its legs and took a begrudging seat. The growl that had been growing in her chest escaped as an irate roar. “Fucking monster! I'll tear your head off!”

“I, the monster?” the mage said, scratching his head. “An interesting notion.”

Refusing to be settled, Aria grabbed hold of the leather length that bound her to the wall, planted her feet against its surface and pulled with all of her might. When that didnt work, she instead planted her boots into the floor, scraping and wrenching herself as hard as she could toward Starshot. Her eyes were red with rage. She seemed not to care that she was choking herself upon the ring.

“Be still, creature,” the mage said, disgusted by the sight of her wild effort to break free.

“Shut… up!” Aria rasped, while leaving nail marks in the wood. She gave the leash another strong tug. The brass ring pulled the skin upon her neck red. Another hard yank and the hook in the wall gave way just slightly. Loose paint flecks sprinkled onto the floor beneath it.

Starshot’s eyes went wide when he saw the headway Aria was making. He was on his feet at once, his fist glowing bright. Raising his hand, he encapsulated her leash within a golden aura. She winced, feeling her restraint fight against her until it and its anchor shoved themselves firmly back into place in the wall.

When the halo faded away, the gold collected into a fizzling ball of raw energy directed at her chest. Swinging his arm forward, Starshot sent the strike hurtling right into her middle. She fell down to the floor gasping and sputtering for air.

“I said settle down,” he hissed. Straightening his jacket, he then approached her.

“Where are they? What did you do?” Aria coughed, rising back up to her knees. Tears of pain leaked from the corners of her eyes. She was aware of how pitiful this must have looked. It agitated her even more. “Did you… did you kill them?”

Starshot smiled, tapping a finger against his chin. “Considering your current predicament, would it make a difference if I did?”

“Did you? Tell me!” Aria screamed, lashing out for his boots.

The mage stepped out of the way easily, intent on withholding his reply just long enough for a feeling of helplessness to wash over the girl. Only after she had let out a long, defeated moan, her back slumping up against the wall, did he part his lips. “They live.”

Aria scoffed. Her breath fluttered her frazzled hair. “You're a liar,” she croaked. Another pair of crocodile tears fell from her eyes. This time they were real.

“Would you like to see them? Perhaps earn the chance to save them?” Starshot replied. “Well, the mortals at least. Your kin will remain with me.”

Aria’s lips parted, though no words escaped at first. Inhaling sharply, she sat up and ran her fingers through her hair. “Fuck you and fuck your stupid spells. I don't want to see some shiny hallucination you conjure up. Some magic lie. So, you can just—”

“I will take you to them. You could even touch them if that is what you desire for proof.”

Again, Aria went quiet. She looked the mage over. His expression had gone all serious. Dusting her grimey hands off, she rose to her feet. Her leash pulled taut, urging her back. She tried to ignore how familiar the feeling was. “So, maybe you aren’t lying, then,” she murmured. “But you are withholding something. I don’t understand why. You do remember what it is that I said last night.”

“Really, creature, last night might as well have happened ages ago,” Starshot chuckled, finding himself funny. When Aria didn't seem as responsive to his wit, his brow furrowed. “Do you truly expect me to believe that the care that you have demonstrated for your kin could somehow be extended to a being destined to be your food?”

Aria’s eyes were piercing. She did not blink. Her arms lay calmly at her sides. “Try me, asshole,” she said.

Intrigued, Starshot glanced down to find where Aria had dropped his dagger. It lay a few inches away from his foot. “Try to cut that leash, and I will blast you unconscious, disappear, and you shall never see that mortal again. You have only one chance to convince me,” he said, kicking the dagger in her direction and cocking his head to the side. “Now, pick that up.”

Eyeing the dagger, Aria bent down and picked it up, obediently.

“Simple enough,” Starshot scoffed. “Now cut yourself… in the place where you did… before.” It took a few pauses before he was able to get the ghastly request out.

Aria smirked at him. “What's the matter, Starshot? Not squeamish are you?” Without any hesitation, she raised her arm, then the dagger in her opposite hand. Placing the blade upon the flesh of her wrist, she pressed down hard and wrenched back. Starshot gawked. The girl didn’t even flinch. Even as blood poured from her flesh, she just stood there, unmoving, as still as a statue.

A wary smile etched its way across the mage’s face as he raised his glowing hand. Soon, Aria’s arm was glowing as well. A moment later, her wound was gone.

Starshot took a step toward her. “You knew I would save you again,” he said, crossing his arms. “So, this means very little to me.”

Aria sighed and rolled her eyes. “Does it matter? I did what you asked.”

Starshot worked his jaw. His eyes narrowed. “Hand me the dagger.”

Again, without hesitation, Aria turned the blade hilt forward and placed it gently into Starshot’s palm. He pocketed the thing. “There. Now do I have your stupid trust? Now, will you take me to them?”

Shaking his head, the mage took another step forward, then another until the two stood boot to boot. “You are tolerant of pain. I don't know why, but I know you are. So it's easy for you isn’t it?”

“Believe what you want to about my soul, but even Sirens have nerve endings, genius,” Aria sniffed, looking away.

Starshot paid this little mind. At this point he had become accustomed to her mannerisms, and if anything, he had learned that the more Aria Blaze fought back, the more vulnerable she was feeling. “Tell me, creature, what is the thing that you find most intolerable?”

Aria let no emotion onto her face as she watched the wizard rub at his chin. He hummed thoughtfully whilst studying her. When his gaze landed upon her right arm, he froze, passing her a wicked grin. “Ah ha. Take that coat off.”

Aria’s brow twitched. For just a split second, she hesitated—a foolhardy mistake. Starshot noticed it. She saw him notice it. Her fingers twitched.

“Did you hear me?” the mage asked.

Making up for lost time, Aria reached up to her shoulders and tore the jacket from her back. She dropped it to the floor in a rumpled heap. “Th… there, you happy?” Dammit. A stutter. She cursed herself for having said anything at all.

Her heart began to pound when the mage smiled brightly. His eyes remained locked upon the ancient purple bruise beneath her arm.

“Up,” he said.

Aria’s first instinct was to shake her head. It was an involuntary thing, a response she didn't even realize she had made.

“Now,” Starshot pressed.

Inhaling deeply, she squared her shoulders and raised her arm up. It hung there in the air, making her resemble a half collapsed scarecrow. Her knees shook. She felt ashamed of herself for being so weak, so transparent.

“‘You’re touching that thing. You always do that when you’re thinking about the old times,’” Starshot murmured to himself, inspecting the bruise. “That's what your sister said. The ‘old times’.” He rounded about to her side. “Of course, I could hardly expect you to tell me the truth about what she meant by that.” He grabbed her, deliberately pressing his thumb into the tender bruise. “Or more about this Midnight Swift?”

Aria let out an audible yelp. Losing her nerve, she reached around to claw his hand away. “Stop,” she breathed, trying not to sound as terrified as she was clearly reacting.

“Why?” Starshot inquired, gripping her even harder.

“Get off, get off, get off…”

“Was he the reason you act like this? That Midnight Swift? Who exactly was he?”

Aria’s stomach dropped. Before she had even replied she felt her damned tongue—that treacherous thing—beginning to tingle and slip. It was already attempting to say the stupidest thing to Starshot in order to earn her freedom. It was already attempting to tell him the truth. “He was… he was a pony. I told you before,” she grunted, her fingers digging into the mage’s hand. “Let go.”

“Obviously, he was a pony, little creature. And you say he awoke you. How?”

“Told you… I already told you!”

“You told me a bunch of nothing!” Starshot said, losing his patience. He hemmed Aria up against the wall to still her struggling. “But to save your precious mortal’s life, I think that now you should begin telling me a bit of truth.”

Nausea began to set in. Every bad thing she had buried about her life’s beginnings was now threatening to rush up into her gullet.

Noting her fading fortitude, the mage tapped her upon the cheek to keep her buzzing. “Midnight Swift, girl. Who was he? Remember, any difficulty and I’ll make sure that your friend and your sister remain lost to you.”

“W… wha?” Aria stammered. Realization struck her like lightning. So that was the cause of her sudden outburst earlier on in her room. Her spirit felt it the very moment Sonata had been lost, a sensation so much like what she had experienced the previous evening whilst her younger sister lay limp in her arms. “You bas… you bastard,” she growled. “We had a deal. We had a fucking deal!” She flailed out with her free hand in order to tear at his face. Again, he easily dodged out of the way.

“Did we? And what deal was that?”

“You said… that—"

“I did no such thing,” the mage interjected. “Didn’t I tell you that I haven’t the time for anymore of your lies?” He mused on his own statement for a moment before cracking the tiniest smile. “Well, actually I do have the time. I simply don’t wish to give any more of it to you. Therefore…” He bore down harder upon her arm, his fist now glowing gold.

Aria choked. She tried to focus on her natural inclination to rebel, to do exactly the opposite of what she was being told. “Pegasus,” her traitorous tongue spat instead.

“Mm. Occupation?” Starshot inquired.

She banged her head backward against the wall, perhaps in hopes of knocking herself out cold so that she wouldn't have to reply. “C… Commander,” she said.

Her eyelids fluttered. At least she could still manage to give the mage half-truths. Of course, in this situation, they weren’t exactly as good as lies, but she would gladly take however many managed to slip out.

“And you never honored him at all, did you little creature?” the mage asked. He leaned in close until they were about nose-to-nose. “Do you think that I'm some fool? That I couldn’t tell that you hated the stallion? Just like you hate everything else, you wicked thing?”

The bastard’s intuition had bested her again. Aria said nothing. Her eyes shut tight.

“And what did he do to make you so angry, so furious with him that you decided to wreak havoc upon the entirety of Equestria?”

Beads of sweat slipped down her forehead as she struggled for clarity, struggled to decipher what she could still feasibly hide from the mage without dooming Cookie and her sisters. “He… hurt me.” The bile threatened to rise into her throat. Old feelings of self-hatred and disgust cloaked her from head to toe. How very weak she was. If the mage and her sisters had just allowed her to die like she had wanted, surely none of this treachery would have had to happen.

“Why?” Starshot asked.

“Beca—… Dammit… Dammit!” she screamed at herself, again knocking the side of her head against the wall. The mage wrenched her forward by the ring, holding her steady. “Because he was obsessed! Because I wouldn't give in to him!”

A layer of rage stretched itself out over her self-loathing. When she again opened her eyes, her purple irises had begun to glow in the way that only a predator’s could. “Because I could never do anything but hate the bastard. The same way I hate you.”

She willed herself to square her shoulders and push against the very force that Starshot used against her. “I could never willingly give him anything. So, he trapped me, and he tricked me with promises—all lies—and…” A tear rolled down her cheek, not of her own volition. “And I believed him! Like an idiot! I was tired and hopeless, and I believed that if I was good, well-behaved, that he would allow me the little bit of the freedom that I begged of him. He took everything from me, and then he laughed in my face!”

She gave a loud sigh. Her head dropped in exhaustion. The tears flowed freely now. Starshot squared his jaw, as if defending himself from any sympathetic emotion the Siren was trying to draw out of him. “Two horrible souls, and one hath outwitted the other. He should have just killed you.”

“He did,” Aria croaked, peering into the mage’s eyes. She wanted to scream, to challenge him to tell her what he figured might exist of a mare after she had grown up the way she had. Swift had killed her, and from the shreds of her that were left, she had hashed together something new, something else that again resembled a life, but never really was.

After that day there were no longer innocent thoughts of marriages, or trips to market, or exploring the skies only because one had the freedom to. Everything, even the seemingly pleasurable moments, were forever tainted. After Swift, her life was consumed by rage and vengeance, stretching out long and reaching toward eternity. At least that’s what she had assumed. “I learned from him better than from anypony else what claims of love really are. They’re nothing but lies, and all who confess them will eventually end up hurting you. They'll leave you. They'll kill you dead.” She watched Starshot’s eyes flicker. Even while in pain, she could see that her words were boring into his soul. “The only lasting camaraderie is forged in vengeance and seeking vindication. In letting it eat you up until there's nothing else left. Free beings move and separate at will. Become a force, become a purpose like vengeance, and there are no beings left. Only the shared purpose. That keeps spirits, hearts, minds together.”

Starshot’s lips parted as he listened to these words, as if he again might have found it in himself to sympathize with a kindred spirit. Coming to his senses, he again pressed his lips shut.

“Isn't it true, Starshot? I'm not lying, am I?” Aria asked.

The mage bit his tongue. His shoulders fidgeted and rolled. For perhaps the first time ever, in the Siren’s eyes he was able to see a pain that he never imagined could exist there. One to make his own heart ache. “You know nothing about love. You were never capable of feeling it, never held the capacity for it. You know nothing about mortals and their hearts.”

His words hit her like a bullet. A tiny explosion took place within her chest. Her simmering eyes burst into scolding red. “And what did Swift know of love and mortal hearts, you delusion piece of shit? You trying to justify monsters like him?” By and by, every shred of buried pain bubbled up again. As Starshot held fast to her, his fingers began to feel like a large, unforgiving hoof. His skin took on a darker tone in her eyes, a shade of drabbish, dark blue. “He thought he had won. Exactly like you think, Starshot.”

She sneered. A laugh escaped her. “I was so stupid then. So young and stupid! But you know what's funny about it? I don't even think it's possible for me to feel that cold anymore! That foul! That angry at everything. After all of these years, no emotion seems as potent or as fresh as my rage on that day.”

She gripped onto the cloth about the mage’s shoulders and drew him in close. “Know this, Starshot: When your end finally comes, when my chance to finish you finally comes, it won't be careless and sloppy and full of passion and too quick like with Swift. When you look down at all the pieces that I’ll make you cut off of yourself with those stupid daggers of yours, they'll be pristine. They'll haunt you for hours, perhaps days until everything fades to black or I finally decide to sing you daft myself.”

She shoved him away, and tripped down onto the floor laughing. Her bruised arm hung from his hand. “How’s that for some truth?” she shrieked. “Want some more? Ask me what I made that bastard do with his own wings!” Her guffawing was wild, maddened until at last she gave one great tremble and collapsed into a limp heap, her forehead hitting hardwood.

A sickened look befell the wizard as he took a few shocked steps away from her, wiping his hand off upon his side as if the girl’s delirium were contagious. He listened in silence as her rosey fingernails now clicked against the floor.

“God, you're such an asshole,” she sighed, turning her head to stare off into nowhere. Her long fringe splayed across her face, shrouding it in shadow. Her sore arm shivered. “I thought we’d already established my understanding of what a one-up was. I thought we’d made an agreement. I already told you that you could bruise me up all you wanted to, and I wouldn’t try anything funny. I would have come with you gladly if you'd just left the others alone. But, of course, you just don't know when to quit while you're ahead, do you?” She shrugged, pushing herself up onto her knees in order to pass the wizard probably the most foreboding grin he had ever seen. “Eh, I can't blame you, though. I don't know when to quit either.”

Feeling the urge to match his own might to hers, Starshot allowed his fists to glow in gold. If anything, he wanted to see her back down, to disown all of the threats she had just made. “Try as you might, creature. You shall never—”

“What, are we dating or something? Must you win the argument?” she scoffed, rising to shaky feet. Dusting her hands off, she leaned back against the wall. “I don't know what this stupid ‘get the last word in’ crap is all about, but I'm over it quite frankly. So, let's just quit it with the verbal foreplay, huh, and get the hell out of here before someone crashes your lame little party. I want Cookie back home in time for her stupid, frou-frou, French dinner or whatever.” Swiping her dirty fingers through her long, disheveled hair, she then pointed at Pudding, still muzzled and quiet in the corner. “And let the dog out of all that bullshit while you're at it, will you? He’s pissing all over the goddamn floor.”

______

“So, you hate me, right?”

“I think I could. Do you want me to? Because now would be a good time to put that out there.”

“Hmph. Well, that isn’t exactly the desired reaction here, but I’m beginning to remember that you—well, people never do get everything that they want, do they?”

“Wait a minute. You didn’t expect for me to still like you after this, Adagio, did you? I mean, as a person?”

“I thought I didn't care about anything else other than ruining all of this for you, but now that I'm… now that we're here, it's just different.”

“How so?”

“Ugh. You're not supposed to draw the conversation out. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I keep hoping one of us will change our mind.”

“‘One of us?’ By all means, be my guest. You're very good at placing blame on me for all of this, you know. But I'll remind you that the tango’s a two-person diddy, pal.”

Striker burst out into a chuckling fit. Irritated, Adagio swung her leg over his head, turning about to straighten her rumpled blouse and skirt. He was still laughing when she crossed her arms, and sat beside him upon the edge of the bed. “Stop it. Stop laughing,” she fumed. More and more, the hollow feeling spreading within her chest had exactly the opposite effect of what she thought it might. With her innate power drained away, the world became little more than background noise, feathery distortions on the edges of her vision. It left space and time feeling emptier. Most importantly, it gave her leeway to think too much.

Her need to destroy everything seemingly perfect and happy—what had it ever gotten her—besides a full belly, and life-saving favors of course? In the end, with her food source and all the spoils of her powers over greed and negativity gone, what of it had she been able to cherish? It all now seemed a big, fat waste when compared to her two lost sisters.

Suddenly, Adagio found herself wondering why she had felt it so necessary to attach herself to the notion of attaining power over the entire world at all. When all was said and done, and the magic faded away, there would be nothing left that was real. Her trinkets would deplete. Her minions would leave, maybe even curse her. There would be nothing she could really keep close except for her siblings.

Gazing down at Striker, she watched him continue to laugh, his hand pressed to his forehead, and the corners of his eyes glistening. It didn't take long to decipher it as a laugh of pain; pain because, at long last, she had forced him to realize something terrible about himself. She had taught him that even he was capable of cultivating a cold and selfish heart. She was good at teaching mortals that, apparently.

“Stop laughing.” Her chest ached the longer she looked at him. The cavern grew wider. She had done that to him. Why? The more she wrestled with herself for the answer, the more it evaded her. At last, she leaned to the side, and reached out for his face with both hands. One hand squeezed his cheeks, the other cupped over his mouth, silencing him. “What’s so damn funny about what you nearly did? I had nothing to lose in this, but you, Striker?...”

He looked at her without attempting to say anything. When Adagio removed her hands, the corners of his mouth were turned down into a deep frown.

“Good,” she said, passing him a small, vindicated grin. She stood, straightened her hair, and slipped her shoes back on.

“But we didn’t do anything,” Striker said, continuing to stare up toward the ridge patterns in the ceiling paint.

When Adagio turned to look at him again, her smile had grown brilliant, beaming with ridicule and beauty as only she could manage. She raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. There was no need to. Even Striker knew he was telling an untruth. All misdeeds first took place in the heart.

She heard sheets ruffle as he sat up behind her. Her hand rested calmly upon the doorknob as she was about to leave. The pungent odor of despise filled the air, as it rightfully should have.

“Don't come back,” Striker said. His tone of voice had gone all dead. It sounded unlike anything she'd heard him say before. “I never want to see or hear from you again.”

The numb, empty feeling of her broken Siren spirit spared her from what surely would have been an explosion of insults and complaints. She had finally made him hate her; probably the only mortal left with nothing else but kindness to give, and not a thing to gain in return. In a more pensive, emotional state of mind, Adagio might have reveled in ideas about how much she deserved his and everyone else’s fiery hatred, but in her current state, she felt nothing more than a hollow understanding. Her smile grew wider. “You won’t. This time I promise you won’t.”

The door opened to allow her passage through, and gently closed behind.

_______________

The hours flew by then. She swore the number of footsteps it took to get her back to CHS couldn't have been more than two or three. Standing in the shadow of the tremendous, stone stallion, she felt the last of her will drain away.

By the time he appeared in a halo of sparkling gold, the only thought she cared to muster up was the mental image of her sister’s faces.

“Wise decision,” the mage said, waving her forward.

For a moment, something sparked within her, the tiniest flare of defiance. The bridge of her nose wrinkled, she closed her eyes, and exhaled until the last traces of it had all drained away. “Why’d you make me come here? You could have just collected me from Striker’s house, or the cafe bathroom, or anywhere else.”

“Why should I have?” Starshot asked, passing her a smile. “I have the upperhand. You were bound to turn up on the other side of the earth if I'd commanded it.” He looked about their dark, quiet surroundings. “Besides, I'm rather fond of irony. You wanted a portal, and now you've gotten what you desired. Should be a welcome change of pace for you I dare say. It's been a long time since you've gotten to have your way, hasn’t it?”

Adagio did not attempt a retort. She didn't have the energy, and she desperately wanted to see her sisters. Her spirit was calling out for them. She needed them near her. “Just take me to them,” she said, stepping forward to drop her wrist into his hand. “There's nothing left for me in this stupid world, anyway.”

The mage studied her, surprised at the weakness of the limb that now rested in his palm. Adagio’s pretty curls hung like a mourning shroud about her tired face. The ambitious spark that would have raged within her at any other time in her life was now all but gone. “Right away,” he said, drawing her in to his side with ease. “And like I told your kin, if you attempt to—”

“I'm not going to fight you, dammit. Just get me to them, now!” she cried, not caring for the taunting grin that the mage was now wearing. Surprisingly, when his fist sparked and they were both surrounded by a halo of gold, she breathed a long sigh of relief. At least she would finally be leaving this unbearable realm behind, and with it a thousand years of struggling and strife, lying and trickery, all of it leading up to this single moment.

“About time,” she muttered under her breath.

_____

Silence persisted. When her eyes again opened, darkness surrounded her, splotched by what appeared to be mountains of oddities and riches. Starshot was gone.

Turning in a slow circle, she took in the sight of the wizard’s mirror room momentarily losing herself in fantasies of what the old her might have done with such bounty. Her sisters soon came to mind again, ripping all else from her thoughts. “Where are they?” She called out into the darkness. Her voice sounded deadened and flat, as if she were attempting to speak whilst trapped inside of a small, wooden box. “Starshot?”

“Oh, for Celestia’s sake. Walk forward!” she heard Starshot’s disembodied voice call from the darkness ahead. “At least try something before calling for help, won't you?”

Biting her lip, Adagio raised her arms out in front of her, then took a step forward, then another. The blackness ahead had no end.

When her hand disappeared into the blackness up to its wrist, she gasped and wrenched the appendage away. The hand reappeared just as quickly as it had gone. Wiggling her fingers, she dipped them in and out of the hungry darkness. Tempted to ponder on this brand of magic, instead she willed her mind blank, again raised her arms, and pushed forward. Slowly, the darkness swallowed her. She shut her eyes tight, hoping that when they again opened, she would not have become part of the void.

When her eyelids fluttered apart, the first thing she spotted was Starshot bustling about an enormous, messy desk set off to her far right. A small lamp illuminated its surface and nothing else. To her left were scattered stray pieces of mismatched furniture. If her predicament had not been so grim, she might have laughed at how absurd it all looked. “Where… what is this?” she asked.

As if on cue, Starshot spun about to approach her. In his right hand was gripped a familiar, brass ring. When he stood before her, he lifted the thing and promptly separate it into two hinged halves. He held it out at the level of her neck. “You are Nowhere, and it is in the Nowhere that you shall remain,” he said, bidding her forward with a curling finger. “Now, if you don't mind, there are some things we must go over. And your sister, the wretched one, refuses to allow me any peace at all as long as her mortal remains here. Perhaps you might have better luck with shutting her up, but first you must—”

The ring was snatched from him, and clamped tight about Adagio’s throat by her own hand. Astonished, the mage watched her stumble forward, turning about, searching. “Aria? Sonata!” she called, not caring that she had so willingly thrown away the final moments of her freedom. “Please, answer me! Tell me where you are!” Hearing no reply, she spun about to look at the mage. “You said you'd take me to them. Now, take me to them!”

The look on her face was desperate, frantic, as if the very last scrap of her sanity depended on seeing her kin. Starshot lifted his chin. He'd have to remember to work on that last scrap.

“Follow me,” he said, leading her forward, deeper into the pervading gloom.

Blind Spot

“Hey, Sun, wanna hear a story?”

“Um. Sure?”

“Well, you don't sound very sure.”

“Sorry, Sonata. Yes, definitely.”

Sonata Dusk’s fingers worked tirelessly through yellow and red. Though her hands shivered, their precision was unwavering. Her lips were tightened into a grin resembling a blade’s gash, and her back, usually hunched or tilted carelessly, was straight as a pole. “When we lived in Paris, I'd visit the orphanages a lot. Did you know that? I bet you didn’t know that,” she said. When she giggled her teeth clacked together. “Around, er—gosh, that was around the decade reigning anniversary celebrations, sooo—1783? No, four!” She gave an absent-minded tug to the length of hair in her hands.

Sunset Shimmer winced where she sat upon the smelly, metallic floor. “Ow! Watch it. That hurt!”

“Oops! Sorry,” Sonata said, offering a smile as penitence. Her story and fingers continued, both more careful this time. “It was a bad time for the poor. Really bad. You know, it's hard when you're poor in a town or city. To be around plant and animal life and fresh water in the country is one thing, but when all you've got to work with is cold stone, and metal, and garbage...or stealing...” She shook her head. “I couldn’t bear to see those little kiddos like that. Reminded me too much of me, way back when… well… Dagi told you, I bet.”

Sunset nodded. “She did.”

Sonata’s granite-chiseled smile chipped. Her face suddenly felt tired, and she ached at the thought of her eldest sister. “Yea. Well, back then we were doing super well for ourselves. We didn’t have it as good as we used to back in Equestria, but eh. We had big apartments, lots of food, and company, and loads to spare. It was nice. So, when I could, and my sisters weren’t looking, I'd make my rounds to the girl’s orphanages and help out. Write big checks, smuggle the kids sweets, read for them, teach them to sew.” She gave the braid in her hand a playful twirl. “A ton of those girls went on to be really good seamstresses because of me, you know.”

The corner of Sunset’s mouth twitched. “Wow. That's… that’s really amazing of you, Sonata.”

Sonata chuckled. “Bet when I was hounding you in that dark corner back at CHS, you’d have never guessed that about me, huh?”

“You would have won that bet,” Sunset replied.

Sonata arched a brow, feeling vindicated. “There was one little girl at this place near Montmartre. Her name was Alouette.” Her voice creaked around the name as if it were some old, ominous door better left unopened.

Sunset looked up toward the Siren’s face. She found the odd smile still plastered there.

“Big, yellow eyes, beautiful, long black hair, the most adorable thing you'd ever seen,” Sonata sniffed. Her finger hooked, expertly pulling a lock of Sunset’s hair into three. In one, fluid motion, she began to wind another braid. “Whenever I'd visit, I would take her aside, find a quiet place, and plait her hair up with flowers just like this. And she would sing for me. She had the prettiest voice ever… well, for a mortal thingy. It would make the others so jealous. They'd always wonder why I was so sweet with her.”

Sunset’s head tilted. “Why did you favor her?”

“Oh, because Alouette was special. Different, I mean. Completely blind. There’s some science-y, nerd word for what she had now. I forget what it is.” Sonata shrugged. “The others would make fun of her for it, though. Would never play with her. She'd tell me the things that they would say to her. Horrible things. Stuff like no one could ever love her the way she was.”

Sunset folded her arms, tucking her hands within the creases of leather beneath. “Kids can be so horrible.”

“So, I started getting it in my head that Alouette sounded a lot like me when… you know.”

“Yea.”

“And like Aria, which kind of made me even more protective of her. And she liked to sing, and I'm totally a good singing teacher… I think.”

“Yeea.”

“Sooo, I get it in my head that I'm gonna adopt her.”

“What?” Sunset yipped. Her hand knocked against brass bars. She retracted the limb with a hiss.

Cookie and Patti looked up from what they were doing on the other side of the enormous cage—playing solitaire and painting their nails blue, respectively. Both passed the Siren a sharp glare. Patti edged her back against the bars, grating the fibers of her rumpled shirt upon the cold metal.

Sonata avoided the waitress’ gaze, choosing instead to busy herself with more of Sunset’s hair. “They hate me,” she muttered.

“No, they don't,” Sunset replied, shaking the ache out of her knuckles.

“They're scared to death of me. Didn't you hear all of the things that wizard guy told them about—”

“Why don't you finish your story? I really want to know what happens,” Sunset cut in.

Cautiously, Sonata began again. “I thought adopting her was a really good idea, you know? Since Alouette was blind and everything. And since she couldn’t see, she also wouldn't be able to see us never ageing.” The Siren’s head bobbed as she spoke. “But Dagi did make some good points when I brought it up to her. Like how solitary Alouette’s life would have been if she stayed with us. We wouldn't be able to be a part of her life directly or allow any of her friends to get close to us. Whenever we needed to feed, our food would… I mean, the people we hunted, they'd… And holy cow, if they tried to escape we’d have to...”

“To…” Sunset breathed.

The mortal’s disquieted expression urged Sonata toward a gentler tone. “Things just got crazy with us and mortals is what I'm saying. A little girl like Alouette shouldn’t be around stuff like that. And Dagi said even if we locked her in her rooms when we needed to feed, she'd still grow, and start thinking, and asking questions and stuff. Teenagers are too question-y. They don’t listen. Like your Rainboom friends. It’s so annoying.”

Sunset chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Mm hm.”

“Dagi was right, though. I mean, she called me a moron a couple of times, but after she had gotten all that out of her system, I realized she was right. It was too dangerous. If anything ever did happen, and Alouette ever found out the truth about us, we'd have to take care of her; like we did with all the others.”

Sunset’s brow furrowed. “Like… like just sing for them right? So that they forget?”

“Oh, totes! All the time! But our songs are only permanent if the memory is brand new. Otherwise, they wear off eventually, and when they do, the memories return. You should know that by now, silly.” Sonata tapped Sunset lightly on the crown with her pinky. “If she kept secrets from us for too long, we would’ve had to sing to her all the time, and keep her forever like some weird, dozy pet or something. Or sing long and hard enough to drain her dry. But I couldn't do that… let her end up in some madhouse, especially back then.” Her head shook. “Nah. We’d have to kill her. It would have been the nicest thing we could do.”

Sunset fidgeted where she sat between Sonata’s knees. She pulled her jacket tighter about her body.

“Stop squirming,” Sonata ordered, again tapping Sunset upon the head. “But back then, I was a bit of a brat. Just a little stubborn.”

“Shocker,” Sunset deadpanned, twiddling her fingers.

“I know, right!” Sonata snorted. Her fingers hooked around another large section of Sunset’s hair. “Nowadays, I'm way more laid back, but back then, yeesh! After Dagi told me all of that stuff about Alouette, I went to my rooms and came up with a better idea. I decided to keep it a secret from my sisters just so I could prove to them that I knew what I was doing all along.” Sonata bent forward until her lips hovered near to Sunset’s ear. “Spoiler alert: I didn't know what I was doing. That's why I know now that it's always best to just listen to Dagi. With Aria, it's a toss up; sometimes she just tells me stuff to be mean. But Dagi’s always got the right idea.”

Sunset clasped her fingers together. “So, what did you end up doing?”

“I made somebody else adopt her!” Sonata announced, squaring her shoulders. “I wrote a letter to this rich guy who used to invite us to all of his parties. Told him I'd pay him for Alouette’s upbringing if he was game. He was totally game. He gave her a wonderful life, full of friends, and schools, and dresses, and joy. I know that cause I wrote to her twice a week, and she did the same since she could afford a scribe to pen for her and everything. When she got big enough she even began penning them herself. And I sent her gifts, too. All kinds of things, I think mostly because I couldn't ever visit her. Never again. It was just too dangerous. I told her we had moved somewhere far away, but didn't say where. No muss, no fuss. You know how it is. Greater good n’ all. ”

“Yeeeea.” Sunset hummed, tapping a finger against her chin. “That sounds alright, I guess. But you did imply that things ended up differently. I think I'm afraid to ask what happened…”

Sonata tugged at one of the long ropes of braid she had plaited into Sunset’s hair. “Well, I'll tell you anyway if you'd give me a second. Sheesh!” Her shoulders relaxed. “So, like thirty years later—”

“What!” Sunset yelped. Another yank on her braid silenced her.

“Thirty years later, I'm sitting there in the hall one night, sewing dollies—natch—when I hear a knock at the door. Dagi and Ari had just fed, and were resting up in their rooms. I remember because two or three of their humans were still propped up in the corner, all wonky and out of it. They were part of some Romanian traveling circus or something else with a similar flavor like that.”

“Flavor?”

“Yea, like… you know when you’re on a really long trip in between moving, and for that short time you have nowhere to call home? It was that flavor of uncertainty and melancholy. Tangy and confused. So, I think the girls really wanted to keep them around to finish them off later, and—”

“Sonata...”

“Okaaay, sorry! Gosh...” The Siren sighed loudly. “I go to see who is at the door, and—get this—it's Alouette.”

“Wow.”

“Right? So, I totally freak out, cause it's been thirty years, and now I'm waaay cuter than she is. Then I remember that she can't see me, and so I breath a couple of times, and went to go hide the circus troupe in the closet.”

Sunset passed Sonata a weary look.

“What? We had a really big storage closet!” the Siren huffed. “Anyway, I check on Adagio and Aria and they're both still napping. So, I let Alouette inside, and—”

“And? How was she? What was she like?” Sunset pressed, now on the edge of her metaphorical seat.

“She was awesome sauce! All grown up, with a husband and a family, and I brought her cake, and poured her some brandy, and she told me that she was a writer, which kind of sucked cause I’d hoped she'd take to singing, but it was also awesome because she got to travel the world, and be happy, and…” Sonata sighed. “She had come to thank me. To tell me how much she’d missed me. How much she loved me, and that I'd saved her from a horrible fate, which I totally did do, by the way.”

Sunset’s brow bobbed. “Of course.”

Sonata’s smile faltered. “It was still kind of sad, though; even after all of that, I couldn't let her touch me like when she was little. I couldn't let her read my face with her fingers, or even allow her to hear me speak too loudly. She would have figured us out. And if she figured us out, then she'd be in danger.”

“Yea, I know,” Sunset said.

“But it was good at first; everything sweet and warm. I was so happy,” Sonata said hesitating to speak again. Then, something changed in her aura.

Sunset was keen. She noticed Sonata’s grip upon her hair go limp. When she looked up, the Siren’s smile had wilted, her usually beaming eyes had grown dim like tinted windows.

“I'm so clumsy. I should’ve remembered to lock the door. I was just so excited!” Blue fingers twiddled around a few stray strands of red. Sonata’s body hardened like stone as she stared off into some long gone place and time. Her haunted expression bore into Cookie and Patti from the other side of their shared cell. Both mortals squirmed and lowered their heads.

“Hey,” Sunset said, poking a finger into the aquamarine flesh that brushed against her forearm.

Sonata jolted to attention, again forcing her razor sharp smile. “Lou walked in.”

“Lou?” Sunset asked.

“Oh, yea. Short for Loupe. ‘Petit Privé,’ they called him. A boy—well, once boy—we had known a long time before that night. Son of some private investigator. They had those back then, you know.”

“Oh?”

“Mm hm. Nosey little thing. Followed his dad around on all sorts of investigations. Followed his dad around when someone hired him to snoop on us—you know, because weird things keep happening around us. He was even there to see how his dad died, apparently. It was really bad. Monsieur Privé had been getting on Dagi and Ari’s nerves for a long time. They let out a lot of steam on that guy when they finally got the chance.” Sonata shrugged. “Lou was young then. Nobody believed anything he told them about us. Definitely didn't believe his stories about three singing witches drowning his dad in a bog. It was a new age. People were starting to ignore that kind of superstitious stuff. Lou would've ended up in an institution if we didn’t pay to send him away for his ‘own health’. Really really far away. Dagi thought that scheme up herself. Said it made us look charitable and forgiving or something in light of his trying to blame us for murder. She's so smart!”

Sunset was rendered speechless. “Then w… why was he in your apartment all of those years later?”

Sonata snorted. “Gosh, Sunset. I told you already. Alouette had gotten married, and had a family! You really need to keep up.”

Sunset blinked. “Wait. But then that would mean—”

“Uh huh…”

“But, then Lou would’ve had to have planned that for years and—”

“Yep. Turns out you mortal thingies can be pretty nasty, too.”

“Whoa...” Sunset breathed.

“That's what I said!” Sonata shouted. “Except it was more like: ‘My sweet Lord!’ or ‘By the King’s ghost!’ or something goofy like that.”

“Well, what happened next?” Sunset asked, bracing forward, fingers tapping against brass.

“Uh, he tried to kill me. Duh,” Sonata scoffed. “Managed to hit me real good. Knocked my lights out. Stopped up my mouth so I couldn't sing. When I woke up, Alouette was calling him crazy, trying to pull him off of me, but he just kept telling her to touch my face. ‘Come here! Come and touch her! By God, the woman is younger than you were twenty years ago! They’re the witches! The ones who killed my father!’” She shook her head. “I was hoping and hoping Alouette wouldn't listen. That she'd just walk right out, and never come back again. Go live happily with her kiddies.”

“Let me guess,” Sunset began, her eyebrows hopped once before settling low. “She didn’t.”

“Nope. She touched my face,” Sonata said matter-of-factly, dragging a finger down her cheek. “I tried to frown, wrinkle my nose to make it seem older, but Alouette knew. She knew he was telling the truth as soon as she touched my face, my neck, my hands especially. She was so shocked, wanted explanations and the whole nine. It was way too dramatic. Blech. Probably why Aria and Adagio woke up, because of all that stinky, sappy drama wafting through the air.” There were no more stray smiles. Silence dragged out until, at last, Sonata managed to take a deep breath. “I wanted him to leave, to take me with them if he needed to. I just didn't want Alouette to be there anymore. She just couldn’t be there with my sisters. But Lou didn’t care, of course. Every time I tried to sing, he'd stop my mouth up again. It was such a mess.”

“So strange that he couldn't see that he had turned into a cold manipulator just like you three—what with how he tricked Alouette… No offense,” Sunset said.

“None taken,” Sonata replied, steadying the girl so that she might put the finishing touches on her hair. “But I definitely wasn’t the coldest. Not by a long shot. That's why I wanted them to leave, before my sisters woke up.”

“But they didn't,” Sunset added.

Sonata shook her head. “‘Course not. And it was silly to think that even if they did, she would’ve been safe. Their scent, you see… and my sisters…” She gave a little sniff, tugging at her pale blue nose. “It was over as soon as Lou walked in with all of his stinky revenge. I just didn't want to admit it. My sisters had them both wrapped in a song before they’d even come out of their rooms. They were so mad at me; didn't even care that the memory of our youth was still fresh in Alouette. Didn’t even let me say goodbye properly. But at least the end came quick, y’know? It could’ve been way worse.” The Siren made an ominous swooping gesture with her arm, reminiscent of a knight swinging his sword.

“The… the end?” Sunset squeaked trailing a finger down her neck. When the succeeding silence became too ominous, she reached up blindly to give the Siren’s arm a squeeze. She didn’t know what else to do.

Sonata pulled the tie from her own ponytail. Blue tresses came tumbling down about her shoulders as she gathered Sunset’s hair up at the nape. “You know, everyone’s always thought that I was kind of dumb.”

Sunset bit her lip. “Oh? I didn’t realize...”

“I can tell when you're lying, remember?” the Siren shot.

“Errrm…”

“Oh, come on. It's centuries too late for that insult to get to me, anyway. I've been hearing it my whole life.” Sonata smiled, rolling the ends of Sunset’s hair about in her palms. “I know by now why people might think that. I know that the things I do, and gosh, the things that I say… Sometimes even I’m like, ‘Sonata. Did you for real just say that?’”

Sunset giggled. “We’ve all had moments like that.”

“Me more than anybody else I think,” the Siren replied. “But you know, along the way there were so many times that I began to believe that it might actually be true. I would think back, and could never remember a single moment that I didn't need help, or somebody explaining something to me, or dragging me along. After a couple hundred years, I started to suppose that maybe those negative Nancys were right about me not being able to do or think of anything good on my own.” She pulled a bobby pin from a hidden place upon her sleeve, and clipped it into Sunset’s hair. “But now I know better; because of Alouette. For all of the clutter always rumbling about in my noggin’, I was still smart enough to do for her what nobody else ever did for me… Well, ‘cept my sisters, of course.”

Sunset listened to the Siren’s voice crack. Something wet landed upon her shoulder and splashed against her cheek. As it slid down the leather of her jacket, she felt a lump growing in her own throat.

“I made something good out of that little girl, and everyone just wanted to toss her away like trash… like what they did to me. I proved to the whole wide world and to myself, that I was smart, and had good ideas. That I could do something helpful. Alouette made me like myself again. Really like myself. Now, every time I feel low or ashamed I just remember that she happened. Sounds a little selfish, but eh. I am a Siren, right?” She hummed quietly to herself, imperfectly so as to elude the restrictive collar now biting into the flesh of her neck. “Just a shame that she couldn’t stay a little while longer. Shame that she was so… short.”

When Sunset did not hear her speak again, she turned around to find Sonata staring off into the depths of nowhere, wide-eyed, lost, and trying with all of her might to hide long buried despair. Confused about the nature of all that she had just learned, she bit her lip. “Sonata, why did you want to tell me all of this?”

The question drew Sonata out of her tentative trance. Eyelids fluttered as her pupils focused upon the mortal sitting calmly before her. “I… I don't know,” she said with with a shrug. “I think that maybe… maybe I needed to tell somebody because I was starting to feel really stupid again. I was starting to feel like all of this stuff that's happening right now with Patti and Cookie and that wizard guy is my fault.”

Sunset’s brow creased as she looked at the melancholy lump of blue, twirling an aquamarine strand of hair about her pinky. “Come on. You know that isn't true.”

Sonata shrugged, not wanting to discuss the matter further. Exhaling heavily, she again straightened her back. “Aria and Adagio didn’t speak to me for months after that night, not that I minded it. After what they did, I wasn’t too keen on talking to them either. At least not until we were forced back to England. Wanna guess what the first thing Aria said to me was after our ship docked? After all that time?”

Sunset shook her head.

“‘This place reeks of so much misery, it drowns even yours out, Sonata,’ is what she said.”

Sunset’s features pulled taut. “Huh.”

Sonata smiled. “Sweet, right? Aria does have a heart buried away somewhere, believe it or not. But you already knew that.” The Siren motioned her chin in Cookie’s direction. “Heck, a piece of it is sitting right over there.”

Sunset huffed. “That's actually not what I was thinking, but—”

“There! All done,” Sonata interjected, pushing a rogue strand of hair out of Sunset’s eyes. She swept a doting hand over the girl’s romantic coiffure and smiled. “You know, that isn't too shabby paired with your jacket. You could be in a retro magazine or something. Like on the cover!”

“Really?” Sunset laughed, quite relieved to be rid of the prior conversation. “You'll have to show me how to do it myself when we get out of here.”

Sonata’s smile collapsed. She looked away.

Feeling guilty, Sunset placed a hand upon her knee. “You are going to get out of here.”

“Everyone can’t be the hero of the story, Sunset,” Sonata said, forcing a weak smile. “Everyone doesn’t get a happily ever after, even if they are being good.” She thought to herself for a moment. “Don't tell Adagio I said that. She struggles with existential stuff like that.”

“I… I won't,” Sunset replied, drawing her unsteady hand away. She bit her lip. “D… do you think that Patti or Cookie wants their hair done maybe?”

Sonata huffed. “Doubt it. I told you already. They hate me.”

“And I told you that isn't true,” Sunset pressed.

Sonata’s cheeks puffed. Hands balled into fists, she rose to her feet, and turned to face Patti. The former waitress was painting her pinky nail sapphire blue. “Hey, Patti!”

Patti bolted forward onto her knees, and straightened her back. The look in her eye was all fire and brimstone. “If you even get any closer, I swear I'll scratch your eyes out, you monster!”

“See?” Sonata said, flipping a lock of blue hair over her shoulder.

Sunset passed an imploring look the Siren’s way. “Sonata, you've got to give them some time, alright? They've been hit with a lot of information today.” She turned toward the two irate women. “Isn’t that right, you two?”

The other two mortals’ body language managed to let off the vague sense that they wished for another row of bars to magically appear between them all. Cookie was currently busying herself with shuffling her deck of playing cards whilst nursing a fresh, black, right eye—a stark contrast to the inherited white patch that encircled her left. She was in business mode at the moment, her shock of hair pulled back away from her weary face.

Patti simply shrugged. “I've decided that this is all a horrible fever dream brought on by her.” She pointed a freshly painted fingernail in Sonata’s direction. “You and this crappy place are all just figments of my tortured subconscious.”

Sunset sighed. Shaking her head, she turned to face Sonata. “My point is, Sonata, that they'll come around eventually. I learned that you three aren’t all you were cracked up to be. They can learn that, too. But negative thinking isn’t going to help, and you certainly can't be stressed about it all of the time like this, or else you will… will...” She blinked. “Well, I don't really know, but I think it would be best if you remained calm.”

“Why should I?” Sonata sniffed. “It’s not like any of you care whether I live or die.”

“That isn’t true!” Sunset replied. “There are people who are willing to care about you girls, but you've got to learn how to trust us first. To really trust us. Not just pretend that you do. And that means being honest!”

“If you or that little, pink paradox you call a sister would’ve gotten that through your thick skulls a bit earlier, maybe we all would’ve had more time to digest this news. Be a little less pissed at’cha, perhaps,” Cookie added, slamming a row of five cards face down onto the cage floor.

“Try less terrified,” Patti muttered.

Sonata, feeling bruised, raised her hands in Patti’s direction, gnarling her fingers like claws. Baring her teeth, she hissed, and frowned when the two mortals scrambled away. “Yea, you just think I'm going to eat your soul or something. Nothing that might come between friends if you just had some time to think about it, right?”

No mortal within the cage seemed to have a good reply for this.

____

A glowing hole opened up in the darkness beyond. One gray arm poked its way through, then a head. Starshot had returned.

“Ah, good. Here comes freak number two,” Patti said, blowing upon her fingertips. “I'm gonna ask him if he'll give me another cage. I do not feel safe with that thing in here.” She pointed toward Sonata.

Cookie, perhaps out of guilt, remained silent, but it was clear by her furrowed brow that she felt similarly.

Starshot emerged from the void, paying the quartet no mind. As he headed toward his desk, Sonata leaned in toward her two, more dour cell mates. “Wait a minute. You two are scared of me, but not him?” she hissed, stomping her foot. The bars of their enormous cage rattled. “That guy is from Equestria. He's dangerous, too! He’d mush you into little, tiny, glowy pieces!”

“I'll take my chances, seeing as how he isn't the one who tried to eat my soul or whatever the hell it is you three do,” Patti scoffed.

Sonata’s cheeks burned red. “We don't. Eat. Souls. Patti. That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!” As she berated the mortal, a fresh streak of silver slowly stretched its way from her scalp to the end of her hair.

The others watched on in wonder as it happened, but only Sunset managed to lift her finger to point. “Uh, Sonata? Um. Your hair. It's…”

When the Siren’s gaze had finished following the invisible line drawn between Sunset’s finger and her own shoulder, her jaw dropped. She gripped onto the lock that rested there, and tugged hard enough to wrench her neck. “Oh no no no! Not again!”

“Sonata, you're going to make it worse!” Sunset shouted rushing over to comfort the girl. “I told you that you’ve got to calm—”

“What in Celestia’s name are you four doing over there?” Starshot hissed, rattling the cage’s bars with a bright blast of his magic. The four girls went silent, retreating to the rear of their prison as the mage approached. “Well? Suddenly, no one wishes to speak?”

Cookie, the only one eyeing the wizard with disgust, took a bold step forward. “I was just wondering about you, sugar. How’s that arm doing by the way?”

Her attention was quickly drawn away to the blackness at Starshot’s back where the sound of shuffling feet could now be heard. A muffled voice mumbled to itself in the beyond. Something about its tone seemed familiar to Cookie. She nudged her chin in the void’s direction. “You brought another friend? Good. Now all five of us can set around and figure how we’re gonna whoop your sorry—”

“How in the hell am I supposed to get out of here?” the faraway voice screeched. This time both Cookie and Sonata stood at attention.

Starshot smiled coyly at them both. “You were saying?”

“That voice…” Cookie breathed.

It continued on. “Hey, Starshit! Can you get your life together for one damn second here, and—”

“Walk forward, you foul-mouthed reptile!” Starshot shouted over his shoulder. After a few more moments of shuffling and cursing, a fuchsia hand burst through the dim, ringed with light.

“Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!” Sonata cried, barreling forward to push Cookie out of her way. “Ari? Ari, is that you?”

A skinny, mostly black-clad body broke through the void, along with an angry head topped in disheveled purple, green, and gray. “What the hell!” Aria screamed as she tumbled forward into the room, predictably irate. “If you want me so bad, then don't leave me alone in the same room with your stupid mirror, dumbass. I had the right mind to turn around and walk right back through!”

“You could have,” Starshot shrugged, watching the girl struggle to her feet. “But then you'd be lost to the portal forever, I'd wager.”

Aria’s lips curled inward. Her hands clenched into fists. “You know you've sure got a lot to say for a mage who can't even—”

“Aria!” Sonata screamed from the opposite side of the room.

The sound of her sister’s voice silenced Aria at once. “S… Sonata?” she breathed, forgetting that Starshot was there. When she spotted her kin’s pitifully weepy face caged behind brass, she bounded forward. With each footstep her body breathed in life. The closer she got to her, the more complete she felt, and the hole that had once been gouged out of her spirit was at last filled. In that moment, Sonata was all she could see. Aria was drawn to her as one might be to a big, blue, incoherently babbling glass of fresh water after days in a scorching desert.

As her hands reached out, prepared to embrace her sister as best as she could through cold metal, a glowing wall of gold rose up between them, and forced them apart. Aria dug her heels into the blackness beneath her, then stood straight after she had steadied herself. “No! You said that I could touch her!” she cried, banging a fist against the spell magic. “Sonata, you okay? You're not hurt, right?”

“I'm okay,” Sonata squeaked, giving her sister a weak nod.

Patti managed a loud snort. “Well, I guess I'm just chopped liver then,” she muttered beneath her breath.

“You shut up, Mint!” Aria shot.

“Or else what, you freaking reptile? You gonna suck my blood over it?”

“I damn well might!” Aria shook her head free of distractions, namely the sour-faced waitress with the fresh manicure. Spinning about, she jutted a finger in Starshot’s direction. “You promised!”

“Not quite yet, little creature,” Starshot said, his glowing hand still raised. “Not with the others around you. I still don't know what might happen if you and your sister are so close together in the vicinity of food, and in a place like this. Precautions must be taken.” He leaned forward. “I think I'll just observe for a moment, if that's alright with you.”

Aria pushed her hip out to one side. “Do you plan on going back on every deal we make?” she growled.

“Not at all,” Starshot said. “But on this matter, I'm afraid you will just have to indulge me, so to speak. Don’t worry. I'm sure you'll discover some other distraction very soon.”

“Yea?” Aria said, cocking an eyebrow. “And what might that be? Sitting around with my thumb up my—”

“Aria?...” came a weak voice from the rear of the cage.

If the sound of Sonata’s voice had stopped her train of thought, the sound of Cookie’s stopped her heart. An electric charge raced up the older siren’s spine. Her eyes went wide enough for everyone present to see the purple glint within them, even in the dark. Her arms fell uselessly at her sides as she caught an eyeful of the most beautiful thing she could recall seeing in months. “You…”

Sonata nudged Sunset in the shoulder from where they both stood on the other side of the glowing wall. “Oh my gosh, it's happening!” she hissed. It would seem that she had forgotten all about her own woes whilst watching her sister approach the one cage corner Starshot had permitted to evade his magic.

Neither Aria nor Cookie spoke until all that was left between them was a thin row of bars.

Aria’s lips parted first. “Your eye.”

Cookie chuckled. The sound was hollow, and there was no smile to pair with it. “Oh, it's no big deal. That jerk got me good, but not before I got him.”

Aria could feel no joy while taking in the image of Cookie injured and trapped this way. “There was a whole puddle of blood at your place. Everything was broken and torn up. I thought that he had…” Her lips drew in tight.

“Now you know better than to worry about me that way, Aria Blaze,” Cookie said. The words were void of their usual warmth. “That wasn't my blood. It was his. That bastard broke in, and tried to get at me just before I was going to leave for work. Shot him twice in the arm. He ain't the only one with a piece. And I thought that old thing really was broken, too.”

Aria snorted. At last, a smile broke out on her face. “He never checked to see if you were right, huh?” she muttered to herself. “Shocker. Yet another thing old Starshit has failed to predict.”

Cookie’s eyes grew dim. She covered her mouth with a hand so that Aria could not see her lips tremble. “H… how come you didn't call, Aria?” she breathed. “I was so worried about you… and you never even…”

“I-I was thinking about your safety. I didn't know how much he knew. I didn't want to let him know more about how we...” Aria choked. “I just couldn't.”

“Well, you should've, Aria. Because this was no way for me to find out.” She looked away. “But I guess it doesn't matter anymore.”

Aria bowed her head and forced a small chuckle, not knowing what else to do. “A-at least you're okay. I should have known that you could take care of yourself.” She reached through the bars to grasp at the woman’s arm. “That jerk couldn’t—”

Cookie flinched, wrenching her arm away. She took a step back from the bars, avoiding the Siren’s gaze.

Only then did Aria note that the shopkeep was frowning. More than that; she was grimacing. What was that scent threatening to burst from her pores? Fear? Anger? “Cookie? What's wrong with you?” she asked, pressing herself against the bars. The woman stepped even further beyond her reach.

Aria said nothing, only stared in confusion. Her gaze slid toward Sonata who stood to the side looking quite ashamed of herself. By the time her purple eyes landed on Sunset they were demanding an explanation. “Shimmer, what the hell is going on?”

Sunset took a deep breath and a small step forward. “Aria, that mage told us a lot of things about your pasts. A lot of bad things. Things that even I didn't know.”

“And? What is that supposed to mean? What did he say?” Aria asked, already weary of the girl tip-toeing around the truth of the matter.

Sunset struggled for the correct words.

Starshot beat her to them. “It means they're terrified of you,” he said. “I told them about you three. About what you are, what you're capable of. Needless to say, they are reacting in the way that any sane creature might to such a revelation.”

Aria balked. “You don't understand us, Starshot. You never did.” Turning around, she passed a desperate look Cookie’s way. “Cookie, just listen to me, okay? Whatever he told you… it’s all a…” Her eyes met Sunset’s. The girl bit her lip, and looked away. “It’s all a dirty…” Her gaze landed upon her sister who had managed to curl herself up in a corner, knees to her chest.

The youngest Siren shook her head at Aria, imploring her not to tell a lie.

Aria studied Cookie and Patti. Their eyes were filled with fatigue and worry that should have never been there to begin with. Indeed, the least she could afford them now was a little truth.

“Aria?” Cookie said before the elder Siren had a chance to speak. “Who was Cricket?”

Aria’s jaw fell slack. Whatever strength was left in her limbs melted away. “I…”

“What did I tell you about lyin’ to me, Aria Blaze?” Cookie asked, voice low and impatient. Her arms were crossed against her chest. It made her look more like a frightened child than the domineering boss Aria remembered. “Who was Cricket? What did you do to her?”

Stillness of dead air. The only sound audible was the squeak of Sonata’s sneakers as she rocked back and forth in her corner.

Aria blinked. For once, she could see that it was Cookie who was looking straight into her heart instead of the other way around. Her hand instinctively clutched at her chest. Perhaps she was afraid that the shop owner might see nothing there if she were to look hard enough. “She was a mare… from where I come from,” Aria began, her throat dry. “I… relieved her of her mind, her memories, her emotions, her free will, everything. I did it because I was bored and hungry, and she happened to be there, and she happened to taste good, so I…” She swallowed nothing but air. The pain in her throat was sharp. “I didn’t care. But that was before I was sent to your world. It was before I lost my abilities, and before I began to remember what it was like...”

“What what was like?” Cookie asked, not bothering to mask the disapproval in her tone.

“What it was like to be mo—” Aria bit her tongue, remembering that Starshot was present. Even now she could feel the mage burning holes into the back of her head with his golden eyes. “I… I can't say.”

Cookie frowned. “Why? Why can't you say?”

Starshot took a step closer, very much intrigued by Aria’s hesitancy to speak. The Siren took a wary glance over her shoulder. “I just can't.”

Cookie studied her, then shrugged, unmoved by the girl’s discomfort. “What about this Celestia and Luna? What did you do to them?”

The Siren’s lips drew in. Her hands clasped about the bars of the cage. “That was a long time ago, Cookie.”

“Well, then what about Europe? Those soldiers at… what did he call it? The Red… something,” Cookie stammered.

“Redfield,” Starshot corrected her.

“Yea that,” Cookie said. “The Redfield Massacre, Aria? And all of those folks you ‘disappeared.’ And all the women you forced to confess to witchcraft in your stead. Do you know what happened to ‘em? Any of ‘em? Do you even care?”

“Cookie…”

“People died, Aria! It was your fault!”

“Wait, I…”

“Gladiola, Astrid, Flemming, Dustin? You spin them all the same yarn you did for me? Huh?”

“Oh god…” Aria groaned, hiding her face in her hands.

“So, that time at my place, and all that stuff you wrote in your letter, that was all just to what? To trick me? To get me to trust you? So you could use me for something? Or eat my energy or whatever?”

Aria’s head shot up, eyes sparking. “What? No! How would I even be able to—ugh!” Her fists slammed against the cage bars. “Is that what that bastard told you? That I would hurt you?” She paced the cage’s perimeter, willing every bit of affection she had ever felt for Cookie through thin air. “Cookie what do you want me to say? You want the truth? The truth is that I'm an ancient, chaos-stoking, hate-devouring, sea monster, alright? The truth is that I surrounded myself with adoring mortals because I didn't have the balls to admit that I hated myself more than I hated any of them. I wanted an excuse to call myself great, okay? But Cookie, if you can believe those things then you also have to believe me when I say that those things aren’t all that I… we are. Don't listen to that jerk. I can feel other things, too! I’ve felt them for mortals, and I feel them for... I just...” She rounded to the corner of the cage, again reaching her arm through. “You believe me, right? I would never hurt you, Cookie. Don't you believe me?”

Cookie retreated to the opposite corner of the cube, her eyes going wide. “Alright, Aria,” she said. “That’s fine, just… just stay back. Okay?”

“Cookie, just take my hand,” Aria begged her, desperation plastered all over her face. “Just let me prove to you that I won’t try anything.”

“Aria…” Cookie sighed.

“Starshot, open this damn cage, and let me in!” the Siren commanded.

Patti began to scream. Sunset rushed to her aid, bewildered by the spectacle playing out before her.

“A… Ari? Maybe you shouldn't,” Sonata said, squeezing her arms tighter about her knees.

“Shut up, Sonata!” Aria cried, marching toward the cage’s door.

Starshot cocked an eyebrow as he looked toward Cookie. “What do you think, human? Should I let her in, or would you rather stay imprisoned than be near to her?”

Cookie bit her tongue, still aware enough to be ashamed of herself. Her eyes pled with Starshot as the lock upon the cage door began to glow.

“Well? Is that a yes or a no?” the mage pressed.

“N… n… ” Cookie stammered.

“Open it, Starshot!” Aria cried.

“Aria!” Sunset shouted through the din. “You're only making things worse!”

The hinges of the cage door groaned open as Aria rushed inside. She froze just in front of the gaping threshold, staring at Cookie as the woman struggled to press herself farther into the corner. Nothing but air stood between them now. Aria took a tentative step forward, her arms fidgeting at her sides.

“Aria, you s-stop right there,” the shopkeep stuttered.

“I'm not going to hurt you,” Aria said. She took a bigger step, crossing the midway point between them.

“Stay back,” Cookie huffed. The warm tone of her skin began to blanch. The contrast of the white patch around her eye grew indistinct.

“Dammit, Cookie, don't say that to me. You know you don't mean it,” Aria sighed. “Nothing’s changed. I just… All I want to do is... be near you is all. Like before!” She closed the rest of the distance between them. Cookie was so close now that the Siren could hear her frail, finite heart pounding. The acrid stench of cold terror filled the air around them as she reached out to touch her. The mortal’s skin had gone cold. Aria could feel it shivering beneath her fingertips. The scent of Cookie’s fear grew more dense. Aria’s nose twitched at the smell. Her enchanted eyes flashed.

A smack echoed through empty air. Everyone, even Patti, flinched at its sharp reverb. When the echo had dissipated, Aria was left clutching her cheek, face shrouded by a curtain of purple and green.

“Don’t… touch… me,” Cookie hissed. Her shuddering fingers clanked a swift rhythm against the cage’s bars.

When light again shone on Aria’s face, her eyes had gone dead and dark on the inside, their ageless sparkle all but drained away. In an instant, she had become something far older and more threatening than what the mortal woman had ever seen before. “Oh, y-yea?” the Siren breathed, poorly hidden heartbreak in every word. “Well, if it’s that bad, Cookie, then… then fine.” She attempted to bite her tongue, but the same old, petty part of her brain bid her to speak as it always did when she was hurting. It bid her to lash out, to offend. “I… I should’ve…” Her fingers clamped over her mouth, but her lips would not be stopped. “I should’ve sucked the wits outta you when I had the chance!” She watched herself raise her hands like claws, and listened to her own throat let forth a terrible growl. “You're lucky that you never even smelled good enough for me to bother! Why don't you just go ahead then, and run, you coward? Before I change my mind. I can't stand to look at your worthless, insignificant face anymore!” She shuffled backward, allowing Cookie the room to reach to her side, and pull herself to safety toward the opened cage doors.

When the mortal had escaped, Aria rested her reeling head in one shaking palm, not bothering to turn around to watch the cage door slam shut. Her legs gave way as did her lungs, and she went crashing to her knees in a tired, deflated heap. “Oh no,” she moaned to herself, doubling over as if in grave pain. “Oh no.”

“You! You let Patti and this other girl out of there right now!” Cookie cried, urging Starshot over with a frantic wave of her hand.

Starshot frowned at her. “Why should I?”

“Just let me out, Mister!” Patti shrieked, trying her best to hide herself from the two Siren sisters behind Sunset’s leather jacket.

“Let them out,” Aria monotoned at last, her voice gone hoarse. She did not turn around to look at any of them. “Don't torture them like this. Just let them out.”

Passing the entire lot a dull glare, Starshot shifted the golden barrier within the cage one last time, letting it dissipate, and allowing Patti safe passage through. The waitress wasted no time, and soon was standing beside Cookie beyond the cage door, begging Starshot to lock it tight.

Sonata, in the meantime, rushed to her sister’s side. Throwing her arms about her shoulders she pulled her in close. Aria didn't resist, bowing her head into the crook of her kin’s neck.

“Ari, I'm so sorry,” the younger Siren whispered.

Starshot stroked his chin, taking a few steps toward the cage. “What about you? Don't you wish to get away as well?” he called, looking toward Sunset.

Sunset lifted her chin, and placed a hand on Sonata’s shoulder. “No. I'm fine right where I am.”

The mage shrugged. “Suit yourself.” As the lock upon the cage door twisted shut, its golden glow shifted and grew, cloaking Patti and Cookie from head to toe.

“Hey, what is this?” Patti screamed as her feet sank into the gloom that served as flooring. Cookie bowled over beside her, disappearing into darkness up to the knees.

Aria, hearing their shrieks, shot up and raced to the edge of the cage. “Hey, what the hell are you doing? You have us now! Just let them go!”

Starshot shook his head. “Afraid I can't do that, little creature. At least not as yet.” The two women had now disappeared into the darkness up to their chests. “But no worries. I'll be sure to keep them both safe, away from you.”

“Not down there,” Aria said. “Keep them where I can see them!”

They'd both disappeared up to their shoulders now. Seeing that Starshot was determined, Aria turned her attentions upon Cookie instead. “You're going to be okay, alright? He doesn't hurt innocent people.” She shocked herself. If before she had only known her tongue to act on its own accord to ruin all of the good things in her life, in that moment she had learned something else—it could also show mercy.

A pregnant silence passed between Cookie and herself in that last moment; a look of affection filled with all the regret that neither of them could express out loud. By the time Cookie’s lips parted to speak, only her head was visible. “Aria?” she called out before the rest of her was gone.

When they were left again in quiet, Aria passed the mage a poisonous glare. “I hope you're rested up, jackass. Because you've had the last good sleep you'll ever get in this place.”

Starshot only smiled. He turned to face his desk, and conjured a viewing spell into his palms.

The three prisoners leaned in close, intrigued by what they saw within the spell—visions of themselves and the people they knew, zipping back and forth in an indecipherable order.

Sonata licked her lips, prepared to inquire what sort of magic this was, only to be hushed by a yellow finger pushed against her lips.

Sunset’s turquoise eyes studied the bubble, flashing in tandem with its every spark. The image of a cabin in the woods was visible within the spell magic, then the interior of an enormous modern apartment decorated in art deco, a pair of fair yellow hands sifting through a stack of papers at a desk, flashes of blue hair, the remnants of songs long since ended, and overly willing mortal meals long since devoured. A smorgasbord of banished Siren existence was splayed out for them all to see—and yet, something seemed to be missing. Sunset’s brow creased as it dawned upon her. “Sonata,” she whispered, tugging at the youngest Siren’s sleeve. “Have you ever seen him cast this spell before?”

Sonata shook her head.

Sunset hummed to herself, and turned to take a seat upon the cage floor. Her gaze landed upon Aria who was still sulking and hunched in the corner, head betwixt her knees. Her thoughts shifted. “Hey, Sonata. Watch that spell for a bit, okay? I've got a hunch about something, but I'll need you to do that for me first.”

“Okay,” Sonata replied, nodding her head. She passed a worried look her sister’s way. The look grew even more distressed when she saw Sunset get to her feet, and begin to approach the sulky girl. Her arm shot out, snatching Sunset back by the hem of her jacket. “Not a good idea right now. Not a good idea ever, really. But right now, definitely not.”

Sunset regarded her for a moment, and then nodded. “I get that, Sonata. But I think we both know it would be even worse if we left her like this… with her own thoughts.”

Sonata’s cheeks puffed in their usual, perturbed fashion before her grip upon Sunset’s jacket loosened. Warily, she let her go, opting to return to the task of studying Starshot’s viewing spell. “Just be careful,” she whispered over her shoulder. “And don't get too close to her mouth. She bites when she's that angry.”

Sunset didn't reply since she wasn't quite sure what to make of such advice. Rubbing her palms together, she made her way over to where Aria was sitting, and plopped herself down a short distance away; close enough to make her presence felt, but certainly not close enough for it to seem intentional, or worse yet, well-intentioned.

The seconds passed. Aria didn’t move nor did she acknowledge Sunset’s presence. Her face remained shrouded by her long, draping locs.

Not knowing what else to do, Sunset let forth a very deliberate cough.

Aria remained still.

Another cough.

Aria sighed loudly. “Shimmer, you cough one more time and I'm gonna lose it.”

“What? N… I just... There was just something stuck in my…” Remembering Sonata’s comment about being able to detect lies, Sunset decided it might not be the worst idea to drop her poor act. She crossed her arms. “Okay, fine. Aria… are… are you—”

Aria’s head spun about. Fresh anger had returned to her eyes. “You ask me if I'm okay, and I'll lose it again.”

Ironically, this show of rage calmed the mortal girl’s nerves. There was still some hope for Aria if she could at least still express her favorite mood—disgust. Sunset’s lips parted to speak.

“Matter of fact, if you say anything else to me at all, I'm going to make you regret it,” Aria stymied her.

Sunset bit her lip and raised an eyebrow. Never would it be said that she had backed down from a threat. She'd seen her heyday for threats, just like Aria had. “I don't think you will.”

Aria blinked, surprised by the girl’s audacity. “I win my bets, Shimmer.”

“So do I, Blaze,” Sunset retorted.

“Look, what do you want?” Aria shouted, one hand flailing through the air, the other rubbing at her temples. “It's bad enough that I’m locked in here with arguably the two most annoying beings in the universe. So, just tell me what I gotta do to get you out of my face.”

Sunset stroked her chin. She shrugged, offering Aria a tiny smile. “Just a talk. That's all.”

Aria’s features flattened. “A talk. Super. And this talk would be about…?”

As if she didn't already know.

“Well, I kind of just wanted to see how you were feeling and,” Sunset took a deep breath, “talk about what you said before. You know… to, uh… to Cookie.”

The flames in the Siren’s eyes reignited. Her glistening white teeth bit down upon her bottom lip. “Swear to Seas, Shimmer. You've got all of five seconds to get the fuck away from me or—”

“Did you know Twilight Sparkle stole my boyfriend?” Sunset blurted. She couldn't figure any better way to utilize those five pain-free seconds than with self-deprecating gossip. Aria looked like the type of woman who appreciated that sort of thing. “I mean, I wasn't into him that much, and she didn't really steal him, and it wasn't really on purpose, but… yea.”

The Siren only looked confused. “The hell are you on about? Who the hell is Twilight Sparkle? What is this supposed to be, Shimmer?”

Across the way, Starshot’s spell had dissipated into a burst of sparks. As he turned to straighten his jacket and walk toward the mirror room, Sonata leaned back from the bars. “Psst! Hey, Sunset!” she hissed, raising an arm, and throttling it about in the mortal’s direction. “Hey, he's leaving!”

Sunset nodded and waved, bidding the younger Siren to stay put. “Be there in a sec,” she said, returning her attentions to Aria. She ran a hand across her hair before remembering it was all done up in soft waves and pins. Her palms pressed into her lap instead. “I guess I’m just trying to say that I… I get what it feels like when someone you care about begins to look at you differently. To look at you as if you're something else, you know?”

Aria’s lips pressed together. Her expression went grim. She turned away. “You don't know anything. God, mortals like you are clueless. Always swear you've got us all figured out. You can't even help yourself, can you?”

“I'm not claiming to know everything about you, Aria,” Sunset said, ignoring the sound of the Siren scoffing at her. “But what is pretty obvious to everyone is that you do have feelings for Cookie. Strong ones.” Again, she inhaled some courage. “Have you ever considered that maybe the emotion that you're feeling for her is… is...”

Aria lunged forward, slapping a fist against the cold floor in front of Sunset’s knees. The mortal girl teetered and tumbled onto her side. “Have you ever considered that maybe I can still rip your throat out, even without my fangs?” The Siren’s lips peeled away from her teeth. “Not. Another. Word.”

“S-so, all of that was an act, then? Another lie. You just faked all of that emotion?” Sunset pushed, fighting off the urge to get away.

“M’kay. You had your chance. Now, I'm gonna ruin that perfect schnoz of yours, you annoying, little twat!” Aria growled, crawling forward. The intent in her tone was clear. This time, she wasn't lying.

“All of those people Starshot told us about, Astrid and whoever else, you never really cared about any of them,” Sunset said.

The air was becoming stuffy. The cage bars appeared to push inward. Aria lunged forward, Snatching Sunset up by the collar, she throttled her about. Her knuckles cracked as her right fist cocked back. “Shut your stupid mouth. You don't get to say their names.”

“Aria, stop!” Sonata exclaimed. No longer able to resist interfering, the youngest Siren rose to her feet and rushed forward to snatch her sister back just as the girl’s knuckles were about to meet with Sunset’s jaw. They missed their target by only an inch, barely managing to scrape skin.

“Let me go! ‘M gonna kill her!” Aria cried as she and Sonata both fell backward onto the cage floor with a loud ‘THUD’.

“That concert should have ended you. You've caused so much misery already, long before even I was around,” Sunset spat, eyes wide. Emboldened by Sonata’s show of force, she scrambled to her feet and jutted a finger in Aria’s direction. All this seemed in rather poor judgement of course, but Sunset had learned long ago to trust her hunches, and right now her hunches were telling her to push forward.

“Shut up!” Aria screeched, clawing at the ground, her eyes flashing red. Sonata tightened her grip across her sister’s chest, and balled her hand into a fist against her sternum.

“You could never feel the emotions that we do. You just deceive yourself into thinking you can,” Sunset continued, knowing she did not mean what she was saying. The bitterness in her words surprised even her. “Those poor people. Poor Cookie. I feel sorry for them for ever getting mixed up with something like you.”

Aria let out a grunt. Her face changed hues, from fuchsia to a deep, troubling purple. Unable to compete with her sister’s strength, the elder Siren collapsed backward into an exhausted lump of tears and frustration. Her body curled in upon itself until she was nothing but a little sobbing ball upon the floor.

Shocked, Sonata released her at last and stood up to give her room. She passed Sunset a confused gawk as if to inquire how this torment could have possibly been necessary or fair.

“Come here, Sonata,” Sunset bid the younger Siren quietly. “Let's give her a minute.”

Sunset and Sonata sat hip to hip and in silence, eyes trained forward upon Starshot’s work desk. They both pretended not to notice the elder Siren finally sitting up behind them, and crawling into a corner, tear-dampened hair stuck to her ruddy cheeks.

Sonata pulled her knees up to her chest, and rested her chin in the nook between them. “How could you say those things after what I told you? After everything you know now? You were lying to her.”

Sunset didn't look at her, only ran a thumb repeatedly across her bottom lip. “I'll stop lying about you three when you stop lying to yourselves.” She flicked a speck of dust off of her fingertip.

Sonata’s brow creased, but she remained silent.

“Just give her a minute. You'll see,” Sunset added, feeling the Siren’s look of confusion burning into her. “In the meantime, why don't you tell me what you saw in Starshot’s spell?”

Sonata’s eyelids fluttered as her mind was ripped from worry and hurtled headlong into recollection. “Oh yea. It, err… it was just… stuff, you know? Houses and trees and mortal thingies and…” She knocked the flat of her palm against her forehead. “Gosh, I'm sorry I can't remember much of it. None of the pictures really had anything to do with the others. It was all just super random stuff from our past.”

“Oh, that's alright,” Sunset said, giving her a reassuring smile. Her eyes darted between Sonata and Aria. Aria, by that time, had managed to rise to her feet and was now steadily pacing about the cage’s opposite side like an agitated tiger. Every now and then, the elder Siren’s glassy-eyed glare would flash in the pair’s direction. “Just tell me if you remember seeing any images of this place… the Nowhere or whatever he calls it,” Sunset finished, chewing at her bottom lip.

Sonata tapped a finger against her chin, her raspberry eyes gazing off dully to one of the cage’s upper corners. She shook her head. “Actually, now that you mention it, nope. There were a few night scenes, but none that looked like this place,” she said.

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “You're sure? You have to be sure. You didn't see one image of the Nowhere? Not even one?”

Flustered, Sonata moaned and ran a hand over her fringe. “Aw, man. Pressure, much?” She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her fists for five seconds before again shaking her head. “Nope. Not one. You'd think he would have a lot, too. This place is super weird. It would be something you'd notice, right? Sunset?”

Sunset was too busy peering ahead into nothingness. Her eyes were wide. Her fingers twiddled against her chin. The hint of a smile lingered around the bottom half of her face.

“Sunset? You there?” Sonata repeated, waving a palm before the mortal girl’s eyes. Still no response.

The Siren’s persistence could not draw the mortal back to her wits. So, a speeding purple fist decided to take its chances.

Aria’s knuckles careened themselves into the back of Sunset’s carefully erected hairdo. The mortal went flying forward, her forehead knocking against the bars.

Startled to find her older sister looming over them, Sonata rolled onto her side to evade a similar punishment. “Aria! Wait, I—”

“Shut up, Sonata, and fall back for a second will ya?” the elder girl cut in, shaking her sore fist. Her eyes were trained gleefully upon Sunset’s pained form now wriggling about the floor. “I gotta talk to ketchup and mustard here for a second. Like… alone.”

Nodding obediently, Sonata scuttled as far away as she could manage, glad enough to be able to leave without any bruises.

When she was satisfied with the distance between them, Aria plopped herself down next to Sunset’s sprawled body and smiled. “You done?”

Sunset groaned. “You sucker punched me!” she cried, running a hand over the back of her head.

Aria rolled her eyes. “Aw, quit being a baby. I didn't even hit you that hard.”

“I think I might be bleeding,” Sunset sputtered, finally sitting up. Her collapsed hair fell all about her in waves.

“Nah, that's just the ketchup,” Aria chuckled. Too impatient to wait until Sunset had gathered her wits about her, the Siren reached forward to flip the girl’s hair out of her eyes, and pointed a crooked finger at her reddened nose. “How old are you, Shimmer?” she asked, drawing in closer.

If Sunset had not been in such pain, she might have been less shocked to feel three fingers trailing about her jawline. Flustered, she blinked and pushed Aria’s eager hands away. “W… what?”

Aria snorted, waving the girl’s worry off. “It doesn't even matter. Whatever you might say, you're still just a kid. Even if you were a hundred years old, you'd still be just a kid.” She tilted her head to the side. “So… you a virgin, whippersnapper?”

Sunset’s jaw fell slack. “Huh?” she choked. Suddenly, the cage around them seemed even more cramped.

A sly grin etched itself across Aria’s face as she peered at the haze of green bursting from the top of Sunset’s head. “Hol-ee shit, you're totally not. I’d know that smell anywhere. That’s the scent of a pretentious, little, do-good liar. Aw, man. How many of those kinds of mortals have I made miserable for my dinner?” Her eyebrows danced mischievously. “And extremely happy for dessert?”

Sunset grimaced, frantically brushing her long hair down to curtain her increasingly sweaty brow. “Oh... my god.”

Aria broke out into a raucous laughter. The sound managed to travel, even through dead air. “I knew you were just bullshitting my sisters and me with all that goodie-two-shoes grandstanding.”

Sunset, who by this time had managed to turn three different shades of red, clenched her fists and hitched her shoulders up. “I don't know what you're talking about, Aria,” she hissed, avoiding the Siren’s gaze. “Just… what, exactly, is the point of this?”

“Yea, okay. Whatever you gotta tell yourself to sleep at night, Shimmer,” Aria said, tucking her overgrown fringe behind her ears. “Regardless, if you can remember wanting something as badly as...well…” She winked. “Then you can almost imagine what it’s like to feed.” She scratched the bridge of her nose. “Well, that is if the feeling was good but also completely different in its nature. Don't get it into your head that my meals are all some kind of twisted kink thing, because they're not, okay?”

“Is that your point?” Sunset inquired, quite irritated with the Siren’s rambling. “Because I’m not getting it.”

Aria grimaced, rubbing at her temples. “Okay, look. Negative energy is sustenance. It's life. It’s like when a land dweller holds their breath underwater for a really long time and then finally breaks through to the surface. Or like, coming in from a blizzard to a blazing fireplace. You know? It's everything you thought you wanted all rolled up into this warm ball in the pit of your stomach.”

Sunset rolled her eyes.

The Siren grit her teeth. “Stop being difficult. I know you understand me!”

“Fine,” Sunset sighed. “I do, but I'm still not understanding your point.”

“Well, what is better than that feeling, Shimmer?” Aria asked her. “Is there one for mortals?”

Sunset worked her jaw, not too keen on revealing anything with her facial expressions. “I wouldn't know anything about that. Sorry.”

Aria passed her a dull glare. “We’re going to deal with your pretentious lying habit later, buddy. For now, I'll just tell you that there isn't one for mortals, but there is for Sirens.” She leaned in. The purple of her eyes glowed hot. “It's all of the good things, Shimmer. The things we three never developed the stomach or the core for. Energies like love, and empathy, and…”

Sunset hummed to herself.

Unsure about the mortal’s reaction, Aria felt her own defenses rising. Vulnerability was never an easy act for her to handle after all. “Look, if you're going to be a hard ass about it, Shimmer, then I'll just quit while I'm ahead and see how much progress I can make by decking you in the skull again.” She shook her knuckles at the girl.

Unphased by this threat, and far too preoccupied with the whizzing and whirring in her own brain, Sunset casually pushed the fuchsia fist out of her face. “So, you want to eat positive energies, but can't?”

Aria scratched at her hair. “No. I want to consume negative energies. I don't know what I want to do with the positive stuff. I can't even smell it, but still I want it. It just radiates off of people, you know? I can feel it. It fills me up in a different kind of way. I… I don't know how to explain what I felt for all of those mortals the wizard told you about, but—”

“So, you can love. Big whoop, Aria. I already knew that,” Sunset said, passing the Siren a look far too sappy for words.

“Wait. Just a second ago you said that…” Aria began, suddenly realizing that Sunset had managed to dupe her into having a heartfelt conversation. She smirked at the mortal. “Well played, Shimmer. Well played. Looks like a bit of us is beginning to rub off on you after all, huh?” Sunset’s smile only grew more affectionate. Hence, Aria decided that it was time for a change of tone, lest she end up spewing old peanut butter all over the cage floor. “Besides, positive energy just looks like it tastes amazing when you watch a mortal experiencing it, yea? Like… sometimes light and fruity like souffle’, or sometimes really heavy and smoky, like good barbeque. Sucks that we can't have it.”

Sonata’s stomach complained somewhere behind them. “Yea,” the youngest Siren sighed.

“Sucks that we probably can't have any energy ever again, come to think of it,” Aria finished.

“What do you mean? Just learn to!” Sunset beamed. “Aria, this is amazing! Why didn't you tell me all of this before? When we figure a way to get you three out of here, then we can just work on healing you, and training you to survive off of good energy instead! That would be perfect!”

“Shimmer, you're not listening,” Aria sighed, one finger now tapping against her lap. “We aren't going to get out of here.”

“Then you can explain everything to Cookie ,and… Don’t you see? Things can still work out.”

“Eat rhubarb leaves, Shimmer. A whole lot of ‘em.”

Sunset blinked. “Eat… huh?”

“Rhubarb leaves. Incredibly poisonous in the right amounts, but the roots are perfectly fine for human consumption,” Aria said, flicking a piece of dirt from under her fingernail. “It's the same idea for us. Our bodies just don't work with positivity that way. We’ve developed ourselves to move and function on negative energy. Negative energy is what we feed upon. I don't even think our bodies could learn to draw on anything else at this point… if we were still whole, that is.”

“Oh,” Sunset sighed, swiping a hand through her hair. “I just figured that if we could get you three new crystals that you might be able to have a new start with it all.”

“Even if the crystals were new, our biology would still consist of the same, ancient sack of chaos-addicted flesh and bone,” Aria stated. “Ever see a heavy addict purge off of their stuff? It ain't pretty. And they don't always make it. Now imagine a lifetime of addiction multiplied by two hundred.”

Sunset frowned. “But the possibility—”

“Multiply it by two hundred, I said,” Aria pressed.

Sunset went quiet, and gazed toward the floor. “I see…”

“You sound disappointed. Good,” Aria said. “At the end of the day, if you or anyone else lets us out of here, we’re probably going to be up to the same old shit until we inevitably croak. Just face it, Shimmer. There’s no reforming us. So, stop daydreaming about it.”

Sunset remained silent for a few moments longer. “But… but you said that you can love. By what you described, I...”

“Oh, I can do more than that, Shimmer,” Aria hummed, passing Sunset a look devious enough to urge the mortal girl a few inches farther away. “I can categorize love, just like anything else. But what's more, I can love tons of things equally and at the same time. And I can still feel it even years after…” Her voice wavered, gaze lingering in her lap. “Years after its object is gone. Centuries after, even.” She turned to face Sunset. “That's why I try to avoid the stuff in the first place—love. I mean, besides the whole ‘being a Siren’ bit, love is trippy; really heady on the highs, and painful on the come down. But I guess sometimes that kind of energy is damn strong. Sometimes it can't be denied.”

“You mean like with Cookie?” Sunset inquired, leaning away just in case Aria decided to lash out at her again.

She didn’t.

“Yea, ketchup. Yea. This one’s really gonna sting for a while,” Aria chuckled to herself. Gazing off toward Starshot’s work desk, she let out a big huff of air. “So, what was so damn important about that spell he always uses anyway? That stupid time bubble thing.”

“The, uh... Oh! Right!” Sunset chirped, nodding her head. “I didn't think you were paying attention to us.”

“You always assume things, Shimmer,” Aria replied. “That's your first problem.”

Sunset smirked, huffing some loose hair out of her eyes. “Well, in this case, I believe my assumptions are correct.”

“Presumptions,” Aria corrected her. “I assume that you have evidence, and so that would make whatever shitty thing you're about to say your presumption.”

Another roll of Sunset’s eyes as she glared at Aria’s prideful smirk. “Alright, Shakesmare. How's this for a world shaker: Old Starshot can't view time or anything else if it happens in the Nowhere.”

Aria blinked, then grimaced, rubbing at her forehead. “I'm sorry. For a second there, I thought you were going to say something that actually made sense. My bad.”

“Aria, listen. I'm being serious. Adagio told me that this guy has been after you for a thousand years. But if he’s mortal and the only thing he's got going for him is time magic, then it stands to reason that—”

“He stopped time on himself,” Aria gasped, her eyes as wide as dinner plates. “That son of a bitch froze himself and waited it out or something?”

“Not quite. At least I don't think so,” Sunset said. “Now, I didn't have very long to study the intricacies of Star Swirl’s time magics before I left Equestria for good. It was forbidden magic and all. But I do recall the basics! Mostly about how Star Swirl’s mirror directed and reflected itself onto different times and planes. When turned, it would trigger a reaction in the grains of its glass which would then alter its refractory wavelengths to angle the—”

“You're losing me, Shimmer,” Aria groaned, head falling back, jaw lolling open.

“Okay, how do I explain this in a way that you can understand?” Sunset muttered to herself, pulling her jacket off. “Ah! You can play the guitar, right?”

Aria scoffed. “Yea. Your point?”

“Great. I play, too,” Sunset said moving her arms up against her body, mimicking holding an electric guitar.

Aria’s lips pursed. She felt the back of her neck go hot and sweaty. Sonata may or may not have snickered somewhere in the distance. “Tch. Who cares, Shimmer? Y-you think that makes you hot shit or something?” the elder Siren clucked, crossing her arms. “It doesn’t.”

“Harmonics,” Sunset said, opting not to wonder too deeply about what Aria’s insults might have implied. “They're only easy to perform where the string can be split into halves, thirds...”

“Uh huh.”

“And on those points where the nodes—”

“Equal zero on the wavelength,” Aria finished, cocking an eyebrow. “Didn't know you were into music theory, Shimmer. Thought that was our shtick.”

“I'm into scientific analysis,” Sunset retorted, letting her hands fall into her lap. “So, close enough.”

Aria’s eyes rolled. “Right. Nerd. So what does all of this have to do with this place?”

“Well, pretend that this place is the node. The sweet spot in the halfway point of the string. Either side is on a different curve of time, but right in the middle everything stops. It's zero. There’s nothing.” Sunset paused. “Are you getting it now?”

“The Nowhere,” Aria breathed. “Nothing exists. Not even time. That idiot has been hiding in here like a dirty rat for all this time?”

“No time, technically,” Sunset corrected her.

“If you're going to be a smartass, Shimmer, you should really learn how to block a punch,” Aria quipped. “So, that's why Starshit hasn't aged!”

“And why he can't view this place in any of his time spells,” Sunset added. “Because there is no time here. Everything is stagnant. I imagine our movements and those clocks and stuff are all illusions he made. You know, for practicality’s sake. So, he can know when to get up or go to sleep, or eat, and stuff like that.”

“Oh, ho, ho, Shimmer, I could kiss your stupid mug!” Aria shouted, lunging forward to clamp onto Sunset’s cheeks. “Do you know how useful this info is, you little braniac?”

“Urfm… Mm hm,” Sunset muttered, her cheeks again going red hot. “Mind lerrting go erf mrr face, perhrps?”

“Sonata and I could probably handle this bozo from here. Adagio just needs to stay away, stay out,” Aria said, shoving the mortal girl away and pounding a fist into her palm. “When you get out of here, you've got to find her and tell her that.”

“Uh… Aria?” Sonata piped up behind her. When Aria turned around, she saw that the girl was pointing toward the darkness in the distance.

“What is it, Sonata?”

“Look,” the youngest Siren replied, directing her sister’s attention toward the roiling blackness in the beyond.

Starshot’s black clad body stepped in surrounded by a halo of magic. With not so much as a word, he raised his arms. In a moment, his prisoners’ enormous cage was cloaked in a blinding aura.

“Hey! What the—” Aria shouted as the entire box jerked backward, sending all three girls tumbling onto their knees. With little fanfare, another wall of blackness was erected before them, cutting off their view of anything but more darkness. They were left in silence.

“W… why’d he do that?” Sonata squeaked, not yet emboldened enough to move.

Her sister shot up to her feet, running to kick the bars as hard as she could manage. “Hey! What gives, Starshit! Answer me! What about Cookie and Patti?” Still no reply. Worried, she turned to look at Sunset. “Hey, Shimmer, you don't think he might have heard us or something? Like, while we were alone?”

Sunset shook her head. “I don't know. I don't think so. Not unless he was nearby to begin with. And I don't think he respects any of us enough to suppose we might figure him out, but I think after this time it would be best to be careful, and not speak about this stuff out loud.”

Aria worked her jaw. “Huh. You know morse by any chance?”

“Morse code? No. Why?”

“Nevermind,” the elder grumbled, promptly returning to her kicking and screaming. “I'm gonna kill you, you gray fossil! You lanky, old sack of lies! Just you wait and see!”

“Aria, that isn't helping,” Sunset sighed, running a hand over her hair. The sore spot Aria’s fist had left on the back of her head had hardened and risen into a painful welt.

“I don't care!” Aria shouted, turning to face the darkness. “You hear that, Starshit? I hope you do! You're gonna get an earful every night for as long as you let me breathe! We had a deal! You let the mortals go!” Her fist pounded against the bars one more time before she fell to her knees, set on catching her breath before another round of threats.

“You done?” Sunset inquired, crossing her arms.

“No, I'm not done, Shimmer,” Aria spat, wiping some sweat from her forehead. “You should be frigging thanking me. I'm trying to get your sorry ass out of here, too, you know.”

“How? By throwing a temper tantrum? Starshot doesn't care, in case you haven't noticed that by now.”

“Well, alright. You go ahead and tell me your amazing plan then,” Aria snapped, rising to her feet and dusting off her hands. “What spectacular feats of the mind shall Sunset Shimmer perform in order to finagle us out of this eternal shithole?”

“Well, it’s certainly going to be a bit more complex than us having one big showdown, Aria,” Sunset sighed. “I promised Adagio I’d help you, and I intend to keep that promise, but—”

“But at your own pace,” Aria laughed, facing the other way. “Everything and everyone has to wait on Sunset, right? As if Adagio isn't pulling her cheese puffs out as we speak, trying to plan something to get us out of here.”

The blackness rolled and twisted at her back.

“Aria...” Sunset wavered. This time, her voice sounded shocked.

“But nooo, we’ve all got to wait for her royal fakeness, Sunset Shimmer, to get her feels and hunches just so, first.”

“A… Ari?” Sonata added to the discomforted refrain.

“What?” Aria cried, spinning about. Her arms dropped to her sides. Her mouth went slack and silent when in from the darkness stepped one perfectly dainty yellow leg, then another. The leg ran up into swaying hips, and those eventually led to a frazzled mass of orange, striped with hints of silver.

Aria stared beyond the bars into a pair of tired, ruby eyes. “A… Adagio?”

“Aria…” Adagio sighed, rushing forward just as Starshot was entering the chamber behind her.

The mage looked sickened, even pained to witness her press her two younger sisters’ faces between her palms, running affectionate fingers through their hair. With a flick of his wrist, he opened the cage door, and hastily turned away.

Adagio rushed into the cell, her arms opened wide. Wrapping Sonata in a warm embrace, she stroked her faded blue locks.

“Dagi, we were so scared!” Sonata whimpered, burying her face into the crook of her sister’s neck.

“It's alright, Sonata,” Adagio interjected, pushing the girl to arm’s length so that she might inspect her properly. “Are you two okay? What did he do?” She passed Aria a worried look. If anyone were to feel the brunt of Starshot’s rage first, Adagio was willing to bet that it would be her.

The middle Siren shrugged, her arms crossed tightly as if she were trying her damnedest not to hug her sister as well. “He hasn't done anything yet. Just put these stupid things on us,” she said, flicking a fingers against her own metal collar. The sound her fingernail made against it was sharp, tinny. “W… what about you? You okay?”

“I'm fine now,” Adagio chuckled. Though she seemed flustered, she still managed a smile. “I couldn't feel you two after he took you. I thought that he had...”

The sound of a throat clearing came from a few feet away. Starshot stepped forward. “If we’re all quite finished here, the mortal girl will take her leave.” He motioned Sunset forward with a finger. “Now.”

Sunset hesitated, passing a wary look Aria’s way.

The middle Siren nudged her chin in the direction of the gaping cage door. “Get outta here, Shimmer. The sooner you leave the sooner he’ll let the others go, too.”

Sunset didn't budge.

Her inaction piqued Adagio’s interest. The eldest Siren looked from kin to former enemy and back again, trying to decipher what secrets had been shared between them.

“Don't worry, Shimmer,” Aria pressed, gritting her teeth. “That’s what you said, right? Follow your own good advice then, and get the hell out.”

Sunset took one sluggish step toward the door, ever cognizant of Starshot’s scrutinizing gaze. Each succeeding step was slower than the last until, finally, standing in the doorway, she froze. Her eyes closed, fists clenched, and remained that way just long enough to unnerve all who watched her.

Spinning about, her eyes shot open, boring like daggers into their blue, weepy object. Sunset hastened back into the cage, much to Starshot’s surprise. She reached out, stretched her arms about Sonata's middle, and pulled the girl in close.
Four gasps, three stammers, and yet no words.

“S-Sun…” Sonata began, trailing off into a squeak. Not knowing what else to do, she returned the mortal’s embrace half-heartedly. The sensation of something wet upon her shoulder enticed her deeper into the hug.

Sniffling, Sunset swiped a hand across her face, and pulled away. She raised her fist, and passed Sonata a reassuring grin. The smile was returned twofold.

By the time the other two Sirens could fathom what had just happened, Sunset had already turned, and was now barging her way toward Adagio.

The eldest Siren raised her hands in defense, hoping that a mild shooing might prove sufficient in stopping the mortal in her tracks. “N… no no no, you don’t need to—” Her breath was stifled by a strong grip about her middle. Her eyes, tortured, slid slowly in her grimmer sister’s direction, begging for help.

Aria, praying to whatever deity that Sirens pray to, had just barely managed to leap out of the mortal girl’s path on her beeline toward Adagio. Both sisters hissed in some primal form of Siren protestation, their eyes wide and gleaming.

“Right. Alright, you little… thing,” Adagio stammered forcing a laugh that was very clearly not genuine. Her stiffened fingers, making her hand appear more like a plank of wood, tapped lightly in the space between Sunset’s shoulder blades. “You can let go of me now.”

So, Sunset did. Politely, the mortal girl took a step backward, clasped her hands in front of her body, and at last turned to face Aria.

The middle Siren resembled a cornered animal, open to the idea of chewing through its own limb in whichever way that might aid it in escaping some terrible fate. Sunset had barely taken a step in her direction before Aria decided that perhaps, in this particular case, an offense might be the best defense. Her arm shot out, fingers clasping about Sunset’s collar. Dragging her in close, she peered into the mortal’s stunned eyes. “I don't do hugs, red. So, unless you’re gonna snog me real good in front of all of these losers, then I would suggest you turn around and beat it.”

“Er… I, uh...” Sunset stuttered, her eyes darting about, looking for some source of help she knew was not there.

Aria’s brow twitched. Her clenched fingers slipped with sweat.

“Look, Aria, I just…” the mortal girl continued.

“Ketchup, I do weird things when I'm put in stressful situations, okay? So, quit stressing me out, huh?”

“Um, right!” Sunset squawked, snatching her collar out of Aria’s grasp, and flinging her head back to force a laugh at the brass ceiling. When she looked at her again, the Siren had crossed her arms tightly before her chest, creating her usual impenetrable barrier made of rosy flesh. “I just… I just meant that… well…” Her eyes flit toward Starshot and back. Her lips drew in tight, her voice grew quiet. “Well, you know what I mean.”

“I do,” Aria said.

“And you know that I'm still—”

“We know,” Aria sighed.

There was nothing more to be said. Looking around the cage one last time, Sunset nodded her head at the trio, and turned to leave.

Her boots had barely scraped against metal before she felt a tug on the back of her jacket. Her head snapped around to find Aria’s fingers clenching onto its hems.

“Hey, Ketchup, do me a favor when you three get back, huh?” Aria said, her voice gone hoarse.

“Aria,” Sunset breathed, her gaze darting between the Siren and Starshot. “Do you really think you should say—”

“Tell Cookie for me,” Aria cut in. “Can you do that?”

Sunset blinked. Her brow furrowed. “Tell her what?”

Aria shot the mortal a winning grin. “And after you tell her that, tell her the come down’s gonna be a bitch. She'll enjoy that some way, somehow, I guess… I hope.” Her smile cracked, and again she was left looking wilted.

Finally understanding the Siren’s intent, Sunset nodded, “I'll tell her.” Shifting her body so that her back was toward Starshot, she raised her hands to her front. To the three sisters’ surprise, her fingers began to curl and flex, each digit wrapping about each other. In a sequence of intricate motions, she formed the signed words for ‘but soon’.

‘But soon,’ she signed again, ‘you’ll be able to tell her that yourself.’

“Alright, you four!” Starshot screamed, collecting Sunset up into a halo of gold, and flinging her from the cell before locking the cage door up tight. “You’ve wasted enough of my time!”

“You will!” Sunset called to the three as she was dragged backward through darkness. Her image quickly faded into nothing through the shadow, but her voice persisted.

“I promise!”

To Good Use

The fire in Aria’s chest wasn't something that particularly phased her at the moment. It was more irritating to watch the calm radiating off of him. One would think that the mage might at least manage to show a bit of caution whilst fiddling around with the cold, restrictive mechanism that encircled her neck, what’s more, turning his back to her afterward. Yet, there he sat at his desk as he usually did nowadays, writing something down in his enormous ‘book o’ ego-driven drivel’ as she liked to call it.

“Almost. Just one more moment,” Starshot murmured more to himself than to her. The coolness of his words, the slow, rhythmic sound of his breathing made palpable Aria’s desire to disrupt him. She wanted to sing, even if it could have no effect on him. In truth, part of her just wanted him to feel off guard, to be as nervous in her presence as she had learned to become in his.

Her mouth remained shut. By now she knew better than to disobey him so candidly. Placing her right thumb and index fingers upon either side of her face, to the rear of her cheeks, she rubbed at two dots of pain that lingered upon them. That's where he would often squeeze when she would ‘get out of hand.’ It was surprising how effective that tiny shock of pain could be for getting her to remain quiet… but not too quiet, obviously, since she was the Siren that she was. “Listen, you've kept me up all day… Night? W… whatever. Can you just hurry it up so I can get back to my cage, and continue silently wishing a blight upon you?”

The mage didn't speak. He didn't move. To Aria’s dismay he seemed totally unphased, leaving her to wonder if he had heard her at all. She huffed. Ignoring others should have been considered a sin that no one but she was allowed to commit. The feeling of smallness that it created within her jogged something ancient in her memory. It was torture. She crossed her arms. “Alright, well I'm tired. So, I'm done.”

“No, you aren’t,” Starshot murmured without looking at her. He appeared to be putting the finishing touches upon his notes.

Aria started at having been heard. “Yes. I. Am.” She turned to face pitch black shadow, and began to walk, not quite sure of where she was headed. A tingling blanket of gold lassoed itself about her middle, drawing her back to whence she had come. As it spun her around, her eyes crossed the wizard’s briefly before she found sudden interest in her own bare toes.

“Alright, now. Gently,” Starshot bid her, reaching out to tweak the ring about her neck once more. “And spare me the tricks, Siren. They’re only a waste of time.”

For a moment she did nothing, toying around with the idea that perhaps she might get away with being her gloriously surly self. Some part of her—the sensible part—knew it was a foolish notion. Slowly, her lips parted. Following a loud, irritated sigh was the sweetest, lingering G note she could muster. Her eyes still could not meet his, but she watched on as one of his hands rose from his side, up and out of her field of vision; probably to ring the dregs of her melody out of his ears.

“Alright, another,” he said.

This time she sang a B-flat, just as prettily. She wanted to smile at the sound. It was perfect after all. And it had been a while since he had allowed her to sing.

Though she couldn't see Starshot’s face, she knew that his eyes were closed, that he had been whisked away to some sweet memory of which nothing but shades and dust remained thanks to her. The ring about her neck emitted a soft glow. There was no shock, no choking this time, only the slight soreness that occurred when one had definitely sung a few notes too many. Still, the collar warmed the rosy skin beneath it, and Aria couldn’t help but fend off a smile. This was the one comfort that the torturous device could offer her.

“Last one. On a crescendo,” the mage said. His voice cracked in between the words.

The melody died down, as did the warm golden glow about Aria’s neck, leaving them both in cold darkness. “No,” she said, an icy sharpness flinging itself off of her stale melody’s final refrain. “I told you. I'm tired.”

Whatever sweetness her song had left to linger in the atmosphere was sucked into a sterile, almost clinical coldness. Aria realized, then, that she had made yet another mistake.

“Sing, Siren,” Starshot commanded her, foregoing his weary sigh this time. His tone remained lethal.

Aria felt her bottom lip tremble of its own accord. It had been doing that quite a bit lately. She took in a deep breath and leaned in toward him, her index finger directed toward the center of his chest. “Whatever delusion you have about owning us isn’t my concern, Starshit. You may have the power to force me to sing while I can manage it, but even you can’t fix a Siren with shot vocal cords.” She spun about, crossing her arms. “I'm tired. I can't sing anymore or else I'll hurt myself, and if I do that, I'm of no use to you, right? Simple as that.”

There were no sounds at her back at first, a fact that proved nerve-wracking. She wondered what type of pen the mage was planning to prod into the flesh on her arm, which patch of long, graying hair he’d snatch at first. Again, pure stubbornness kept her still. Eventually, she began to hear papers shuffling about a desk, glass vials clinking against one another, and at last, the distinct sound of body weight lowering itself into a leather-upholstered seat.

“You're right. Go on then,” the mage said.

Aria blinked once, fighting the powerful urge to spin about and confront the wizard about the fact that she did not enjoy feeling confused. Instead, she lowered her arms to her sides, cleared her throat, and took one cautious step toward the inky darkness ahead of her. Then, another. She was three steps in before curiosity finally got the best of her. “Why?” she asked, peering at him over her shoulder.

“Because your collar is ready,” the mage said. “It serves no purpose for me to continue prodding at it all by my lonesome. I believe it's time to move on with my work, finally.”

Aria cocked an eyebrow. “Move on to what, exactly?”

She received only a knowing smile in return. Starshot leaned forward in his seat, his palms running across his knees. Lifting one hand, he flicked his wrist in the direction of the empty space behind her. A gash of golden light was cut into the dim, and the darkness opened up like a wound upon dead flesh, revealing a large, gilded cage. In the cage’s belly, upon its scuffed floor lay two figures, one blue and one yellow. Their heads were topped with multiple streaks of silver now just as Aria’s was. Both figures remained still where they lay, draped in simple frocks made of black linen. The shifts Starshot had given them hung long enough about their bodies to touch their shins. Their knees were bent in a futile effort to recycle some sense of warmth in their crude home.

Aria stared at them both, her sisters, who she could not recall loving more than she had learned to love them these past few months. She felt her stomach turn a bit. “M...move on to what?” she repeated, much quieter this time.

“You know, creature, out of the Sirens three, you are by far my favourite to tease. Really, you shouldn't make yourself such an open and willing target for the frustrations of others. Child’s logic I’d think, but…” The mage shrugged.

Incensed, the purple Siren lifted her chin. “Is that supposed to hurt my feelings or something? Or are you expecting me to scrounge up a sense of gratitude for having entertained you?” She smirked. “You haven't got what it takes to ever endear me to you like that, so just fuck off.”Starshot didn’t move, only continued to smirk in his way, shaking his head pityingly. “So, then what does it take, Aria?”

The Siren cringed. She hated it when he spoke her name. The irony of her preferring that he call her ‘creature’ was not lost on her. Her life had been too long and she had seen too much of it to not recognize the signs of someone being groomed to submit, even if that someone was herself. But, even if the ending to this tale was inevitable, she would at least show the mage that it wouldn't come easily. “You don't have the talent. Trust your elders,” she spat.

Running her fingers upon her collar, they hit an odd, loose groove on their trek across its smooth metal. The Siren nearly gasped as a wicked revelation dawned upon her. Turning about, with three large, swift steps she found herself standing before the mage. Her bare toes tapped atop the leather of his boots. One pink arm shot out to snatch at the hem of his jacket. It drew him in close. “You know, I just thought of something. Considering all the years you've spent in here alone, I bet it cheers you up something powerful to have other living, breathing things about your home nowadays. Especially living, breathing things that look like we do,” Aria hissed, raising one leg, and burying the sharpest part of her knee into the mage’s thigh. A familiar vibration gestated in the depths of her throat and began to seep out, barely noticeable, from the divide between her sealed lips. She felt the mage’s strength betray him under her touch. Boring her weight upon her planted knee, she leaned forward. Her lips turned toward the mage’s cheek. She chuckled when his eyes glazed over, and fought off a mischievous shriek of delight when he finally came to his senses.

The gloss over Starshot’s eyes retreated. Reaching out, he twisted close the clasp he had left open upon Aria’s collar, and shoved her away. His clenched fists glowed in gold as he shot out of his seat, stammering. “Wh-wh… Y-you!..”

“A-dur-duuur! Ha! Too easy! I almost had you again that time, and I was just fooling around!” the Siren lilted, slowly getting to her feet, and straightening out her frock. “Still making those same stupid mistakes, Starshit? You’ve really got to remember to keep track of these collars if you're planning on keeping us here. They’re the only thing standing between you and our wrath after all.” She grinned. Her canines seemed particularly pronounced. “But you knew that already.”

“Get out of my sight, creature,” the mage huffed, trying to catch his breath. “Now.”

Aria rolled her eyes, and began pacing a circle about him. “God, you take yourself so fucking seriously. It's so lame.” She sniffed. “Face it, wizard, you're not even half the mage that Star Swirl was. You and I both know that you're a careless, habitual blunderer, but don’t feel bad about that; all mortals are, especially ones as old as you. It's intrinsic to your nature, because your lives are all so short. You feel there isn't enough time… and you're right, of course. There isn’t.” She paused her pacing and placed her hands upon her hips. “Even with all the gifts you were given, you're still prone to rush, to be impatient. I understand. You're, what, pushing a century old now in that fake, dapper bod of yours? You've got to get shit done so you can die in peace, right? But do you understand that one day soon you will screw up in some gloriously stupid way? And do you understand that when that happens, we'll be ready?”

During the course of her rambling, Starshot had, predictably, turned to face his work desk, attempting to ignore her. She couldn't blame him. How many times were they to have some dramatic verbal showdown? It was getting old even for her. The difference was that it was her sisters’ lives that now depended on talking to the mage until she could decisively root out his weakest spot and exploit it. “You know this doesn't have to be all paranoia, and cold experimentation, and boredom,” she said.

“Who says I'm bored?” Starshot spat. His shoulders bobbed as he forced a chuckle. His tired eyes wavered.

“Well, resentful then,” Aria sighed. “Stress isn't good for your type, you know. Unicorns. It makes your magic short out as you age. I've seen it happen, man. Also, there’s this whole heart disease thing...”

“Your bribes won't work on me,” Starshot drolled, his back still turned. “So, whatever web you believe you are rambling me into, I advise you to just save it. Your golden age has long since ended. Your days are numbered. You should learn to just accept these things.” The sound of a ruffling sheet of paper cracked the silence that followed. “You may return to your cell. I'm done with you for today.”

Aria’s bottom lip jutted out for having been dismissed so plainly, and without even the dignity of a parting glance. “Bull-shit,” she hissed, her gaze going icy cold. She stepped toward him again, fists clenched. “What, you think I can’t smell you lying to me? You think I can’t sense all the places my magic has been in you, just like you can? Where my magic still is?” She pushed her index finger into the center of his spine, inspiring him to spin around and slap it away. “I hate mortals like you. You’ll lie yourself all the way into your own grave, but somehow find the stones to accuse me of not being true to myself.”

“Your cage. I’m not in the mood for a lecture from a madwoman,” Starshot growled. His glowing fist pressed against Aria’s frock in the space just below her ribcage. But instead of warding her off, the emboldened Siren drew in closer. The heat seared into her stomach. Holding fast to him, she sucked in the pain through her teeth, and swallowed it. “I'm not a woman, and neither am I pony, but I definitely do hope you continue to make that mistake. That's how you'll screw up in the end.” She smiled. “To live is to feel unspeakable joy and unspeakable pain; I should know. Everything and everyone knows that. Even if they can’t empathize, they can sympathize. You've felt unspeakable rage and unspeakable sadness because of us, and you want your revenge. I understand, but your end’s still going to come as sure as the sun’s gonna rise, pal. It’ll come.” She cocked her head to the side. “But that ending doesn't have to be so terrible, you know.”

Starshot moved to protest. She stopped him with a single, violet glance. A tiny sliver of smoke rose off of her singed linens. It curled itself in the space between their noses. Her abdomen trembled in pain. She knew in a little while it would be burned raw. “What’s done is done. We're broken. You're broken. And there's no one else left alive to judge you except we Sirens, Starshot. So, let’s just be honest with each other for once.” She placed her hands atop his shoulders, the way a mother would to her child. “You're stretched too thin, your life too long. Tell me you're tired, and I can take the pain away, forever. I can take your last moment, and turn it into the most glorious minute of your entire life if you want; a moment filled with sweetness and all the songs that I know you’re starving for. And hey, I’ll sing whatever you want. Audience’s request; doesn’t get any better than that. All you have to do is say ‘yes,’ and well… you know… take this collar off of me, obviously.”

A look of terror had managed to sweep its way across Starshot’s face. Good. That meant that, at last, he was listening. Who in their song-enchanted mind would want to say no to as good an offer as hers? Nobody. But perhaps she could stand to sweeten the deal a little bit more. “What if I spoke to my sisters? Would you like to see what Sonata sounds like? Her voice is the purest. Or I could talk to Adagio if you'd prefer her to do it instead.” Nudging her chin in the direction of her shoulder, she directed Starshot’s attention to the gilded cage where her sisters now lay silently in shadow. “Or… all three of us maybe? In harmony. Just for you. One last time. Whaddya say, mage? There’re so many unfortunate saps out there who die alone, afraid, hungry, betrayed, unloved. But you, my friend, you could be one of the few who get to die absurdly happy. Utterly content.”

She shrugged when Starshot clawed his way out of her arms, shaking the smoke off of his hand.

“You lot make me sick,” he hissed, looking as if he'd just been spun about ten times. “Is it always the same drivel with you? Do you always fling your wretched voices, and lies, and bodies at everything to solve all of your problems?”

Aria placed her hand upon her hip and tilted her gaze up toward the inky blank hovering where the sky should be. “Shapeshifting ourselves, our personalities, our songs to our advantage is kind of our shtick, so yea. Whatever about me catches your eyes or ears favorably is, unfortunately, usually bait, and the best kind; the kind you always fall for. The kind you will eventually fall for… like they all do.” She winked. “I could always just transform into a giant dragon, and bite your head off if you would prefer that. But I know you like me better this way, and… well, don't fix what ain’t broke, you know?”

For the first time since she had arrived in this dank place, Aria looked upon Starshot and watched him curl into himself. Maybe, at last, he had realized what he had gotten himself into by pursuing them so restlessly, by bringing them here. A mortal had never successfully managed to coexist with a Siren before, much less three of them at once; at least not without ending up as dinner a couple nights a week. And Starshot wasn’t a fresh catch by a long shot. Their song was already nailed to his brain, and would always be there. Aria had to admit that even her interest was now piqued to see what might become of one who was offered so much honey for the risk of a single, fatal sting. “You ok, pal?” she asked him. “You look kind of sick.”

Starshot didn't respond. Instead, he quietly turned his wide-eyed glare back toward his desk. His fingers brushed across its surface listlessly, feigning business.

Aria smiled. She couldn't fathom a more opportune moment. “Close your eyes,” she cooed gently. “Be at ease.” Her smile transformed into a grin when, as she had hoped, Starshot’s shoulders hiked up to the level of his ears. His entire body froze upon his hearing what were far too familiar words. “Ah, so you do remember it. The very first one; Sonata and I sang it just for you… waaay back… Do you remember where we were? The grand hall?”

“Shut up,” the mage whispered. The words came out as a half gasp.

“Give us your heart, sir,” Aria continued. “And lend us your ear. Reveal unto us those delicious things that you—”

“Shut up,” Starshot choked.

“Okay, obviously I can't sing the words with this collar on, but hell, my speaking voice doesn't sound that bad does i—”

“Shut your rotten, cursed mouth, witch!” Starshot cried, reeling upon her. His eyes were ablaze. As usual, so was his dominant fist.

In a flash, the darkness lit up in gold, enough to stun even Aria’s sisters to attention. She gasped, stumbling a few steps back, gripping her sore belly. When she looked upon him again, she did not expect the mage to be wearing a triumphant grin.

“I've changed my mind,” Starshot said as the light died down about them. “You three shan’t be getting anymore rest for a while.”

Aria gazed at him, perplexed.

“Why the confusion, Siren? You wanted to know what those collars are for. Why I'm keeping you here. What I'm planning. Lucky for you, I've decided now would be an excellent time to show you.” With a flick of his wrist, the door to the enormous cage which held Sonata and Adagio crashed open. “Move those feet. We’ve much ground to cover.”

________

They lined up in the dark side-by-side and barefoot, tired and huddled close for warmth, Sonata more than her elders.

The youngest Siren scratched and tugged at her collar, her eyes darting worriedly to and fro. Starshot stood before them, conspiratorial glee seeping from his grin. He waited for them to be still and somewhat attentive before he waved his arm in a large arc. A bright splash of light burst forth in front of them, and as the dizzying spots faded from their view, in their place glowed a countless number of what appeared to be translucent imaging screens. Each screen, about the size of a holiday card, was lined next to another into long rows, stacked about twenty high.

Once the shock of seeing so many moving images at once had worn off, the sisters leaned in to take a closer look. It took a few moments for them to realize that the images they were seeing were all bits and pieces of captured timeline from Equestrian and earth history. Some of the images were foreign, strange, clearly drawn from a future that they had yet to see. Other images were quite familiar, even to the point of heartache. This was noted by Sonata who, by chance alone, managed to catch a small glimpse of an old Greenwaters bakery she'd often frequented in her early years. She could not decipher how old the current visage of the place was at the time she was witnessing it, but her lips pursed inward anyway whilst she tried to hide her guilty expression.

“Some of these places you know. Some you don't. Correct?” the mage asked, drawing a broad line from the left end of the rows to the right.

The three sisters remained silent, cautious, watchful.

Starshot rolled his eyes. “Fine. Play coy, as usual. The point is that this place, Equestria, was once my home. Was once your home.” He flicked his wrist. The images flickered, and when they shone bright and steady again it was clear that something small had changed in each of them—a change for the worse. Now, instead of a peaceful Equestrian highland meadow filled with playful pegasi, a battle raged on upon those hills, winged clan against winged clan. Innocent earth ponies caught in the path of stray gusts or strikes of lightning either ran for cover or remained where they lay broken in the grass.

In another image, a row of ponies lined up in chains before a nameless, mustachioed unicorn lord who paced the grounds before them. The lord went along slowly, meticulously, deeming each one fit or unfit to serve him. Those marked as unfit were dragged away in chains toward a cellar door that led to nopony knew where. Those who had been spared could only shed tears for their companions.

Cruelty after cruelty, hardship after hardship played out before them all, none of them easier to witness than the last. Starshot turned to the three sisters, offering them a look of disgust. “I'm sure all of this wailing and gnashing of teeth makes you hungry, doesn't it?” he asked. “Wouldn't it be wonderful if I could offer you just a whiff… just a taste of the noxious suffering that you love?”

Perhaps, for their piercing hunger alone, the three sisters glanced toward him. The pitiful glow of hope that lingered about their faces was quickly snuffed.

“Too bad. You shall starve, and I shall enjoy watching every moment of it,” Starshot said.

Sonata whimpered, not used to being shown this escapeless brand of cruelty. She gripped the loosened cloth about her belly as Adagio took her free hand in her own and squeezed.

“You’re disgusting,” Adagio wavered. “All this talk of cruelty as if we are the ones who invented the stuff. We aren't cruelty’s mothers; we just conjure it! The potential for evil in both pony and mankind has always just… been.”

“And I suppose you had just been doing everypony a huge favor by exacerbating the problem,” Starshot quipped. “Of course, you are absolutely blameless.”

Adagio went silent, holding tighter to Sonata who was now sobbing.

“You've never been hungry, mister, whoever you are!” Sonata shrieked through tears. “You couldn’t have. If you had, you would never—”

“Sonata, don't, ” Adagio chided her. “Don't say anything to—”

“No! He’s a jerk, and he needs to know!” the bawling Siren shrieked, wrenching her arm out of Adagio’s grasp. She straightened her robes and took a few cautious steps toward the mage, her index finger jutted in his direction. “When you plan on doing something final to somebody, you just do it! You don't lock them up or tie them down in some dark place to starve! You just… just…”

“A lecture from the glutton of the three,” Starshot ridiculed her.

Ego bruised, tired, and humiliated, Sonata lifted her chin and mustered up whatever dignity she could. “We had a purpose for doing what we did in Equestria. Even I figured that out a long time ago. And if anypony needed to… to die, we did it quick or we made sure they never knew it. You don't just starve people… watch them just waste away for fun. It's sick.” She snapped the hem of her robe. “So, just get it over with! If you're not a monster, then prove it!”

Starshot regarded the blue Siren with interest. This was the first time she had confronted him in such a manner, and his curiosity was beginning to get the better of him. “You are very passionate on this matter Sonata Dusk. Is there any particular reason why?”

Sonata said nothing else, only looked toward the ground, clasping her hands at her front.

“I watched my wife waste away because of you three,” Starshot continued. “Not from starvation, but something that ran much deeper. Something that made me realize that even if I could keep her body alive with food, nourishment, love, it would never again make a difference. You dare to lecture me on cruelties?”

He took two swift steps toward Sonata, snatching her up by the collar. Aria raced forward to stop him, only to be rendered frozen in her position with a single beam of his magic.

“She was very sweet,” isn't that what you said when you swilled down her will? Isn’t it?” Starshot hissed as Sonata tried to break free from his grasp. He threw her to the ground, and pointed an accusing finger right back. “You, Sonata Dusk. You shall starve, but fear not; one of your sisters will perish right along with you.” He feigned a pitying expression. “So, you won't have to be alone.”

Releasing Aria’s body from his magic, he made a beeline toward her and Adagio. “This all is quite simple, you see. I've been watching you lot for a while now, since you've lost your abilities. As incapable as you assume I am with figuring you three out, I must say, your mysteries’ solutions are still not lacking in terms of low-hanging fruit.”

Rubbing out the aches in her neck, Aria then struggled to her feet. “What the hell is he on about now? Can you speak like you aren’t a sphinx?”

Starshot waved his hand in the direction of the time portals. “This unfair suffering that plays out before you is abhorrent to me. Ever since my run in with you three, I've never been able to stomach too much of this sort of thing. Don't get me wrong, there are obviously some necessary cruelties that exist, but the majority of them…” He shook his head.

Aria and Adagio passed each other withering glances. “Okay, and?” Aria shrugged.

“For many years now I've been completing a bit of a sidejob, you see. Something to keep me preoccupied during my quest for you, something that gave me a brilliant idea.” Starshot tapped his chin. “I've been researching, and traveling, and breaking my body to stop injustice and needless cruelty wherever I could find it one incident at a time, which while I agree may ultimately be an endeavour in futility—”

“I'll say,” Adagio sighed. Aria snorted beside her.

“—is not an endeavour without its merit. One that is justifiably worth sustaining, but maybe not too feasible all alone.” He pointed at the girls, and took one beguiling step toward them. “Praise Celestia that I have been sent all of the answers to my problems with you three masters of wills, and minds, and hearts. How would you like to do something good for a change before you die? After all, if what you say about your having a soul is true, wouldn't you appreciate the opportunity to wash some of its filth away before it's too late?”

“Dude, it was too late a thousand years ago,” Aria mocked him, pressing her knuckles into her hips. “Why the hell would we ever want to help you now? After everything that's happened? We’ve been sitting on that forsaken, magicless rock—that your uncle so assholishly banished us to by the way—just wasting away for a millenia.”

Starshot appeared unamused. “Right, well, I believe it was my mistake that I have weaved together for you the illusion of a choice.” The next step he took was one of impending doom. “You see, you three are mine now, and in exchange for so graciously not striking you and your supposed loved ones down where you all stand, what you will be doing for me is work… until you can no longer.”

Adagio crossed her arms, “Doing what, exactly?”

“Fixing a broken world, of course,” Starshot scoffed. “Fixing your past messes, and then some.” He approached Adagio to hook one finger into the space behind her collar. “You can control will, and that is what you will do until the day you die—use your powers for something good.”

The Sirens seemed confused by the latter notion.

Starshot sighed, directing their attention to the wall of unfortunate time threads before them. “My uncle was a fool. You can change what is terrible with little consequence. You can try to make sure that no innocent has to suffer. You three will use your remaining power to manipulate these ponies of every race and every era into ceasing the suffering they inflict upon one another. Simple!” He tapped the eldest Siren lightly upon her chin.

“You are aware, Starshot, that we are unable to bring out the good in ponies, only the bad.” Adagio belabored, her weary eyes following his pacing across the floor.

Starshot shrugged, unbothered by this news. “You are creative temptresses; I say this from experience. You could use antagonism to prevent disaster in a myriad of ways. I'm certain you've done it before at some point.” He clapped his hands together decisively, giving them a sickening smile. “I will be accompanying you on our forays, of course. To make sure you stick to the job, so to speak. Remain under control while your collars are opened.”

Three pairs of eyebrows bobbed with interested. “I… I see,” Adagio breathed, passing a knowing glance toward Aria.

Aria, catching the hint, stepped forward. “W… whatever, man, just… Just do what you gotta do, but I'm tired of standing here listening to you lecture us. I'd much rather we all were standing in Equestria right now, anyway.”

“Is that right?” Starshot chirped, passing her a smug grin. “Well, sorry to disappoint you but we shan’t all be going anywhere together. I like to travel light, meaning I will only be taking one of you at a time. Less hassle, less threat, more control.”

The sisters seemed deflated by this news, and the lost notion that they might have been able to strategize a group escape had they all been set loose together in Equestria.

“Why the frowns?” Starshot blinked. “Cheer up, little creatures, you all will surely find redemption in your good deeds, and for one well-behaved Siren, a life a bit longer and a little less abhorrent than that of your sisters.” He waited a moment for the girls to inquire into exactly what he meant, but his impatience got the better of him. “I've observed, that in a realm of limited magics, you three must ration what's left of your energy and abilities. It confused me at first, trying to figure why your abilities returned whenever I was near, and why your siblings looked worse for wear whenever any one of you used them, but eventually, I learned to stop searching for too many reasons so much as quick solutions, hence your collars.”

Aria jingled hers against her collarbone. “Are we gonna get leashes for these, too?”

“Try me, and we’ll see what I come up with,” Starshot quipped. “A muzzle for you, maybe.”

Aria took a step forward, never one to be bested with insults. “I swear you get your rocks off to this, you sick fuck. But just you wait. The second you let me off of this collar in Equestria, I'm gonna—”

“Aria!” Adagio stopped her.

“No, no!” Starshot said. “I want to hear it. Go on, Aria Blaze. Give me the exact reason why you shall starve and suffer along with your blue kin.”

Sonata reached out to grab Aria’s hand, giving it a gentle tug to get her attention. She shook her head. “Ari…”

Aria, contemplating the sad predicament of her younger sister, bit her lip and inhaled a ragged breath. “Stars, just take Sonata, then,” she exhaled turning about to face the wizard again. “You could never trust me. We both know that. So, never take me on any of these… trips. Let me stay behind, and let Sonata use my energy while she's with you.”

Sonata’s brow furrowed. She tugged harder at Aria’s sleeve. “A-Ari, what are you doi—”

“Shut up, toothpaste! This is for your own good!” Aria shouted. “Sonny’s a good girl. She won't give you any trouble. Right, Adagio?” She spun about to stare at her eldest sister.

Adagio stood in place, motionless, her ruby eyes dim, glossed, very clearly contemplating dark things.

“I said, isn't that right, Adagio?” Aria pressed, desperate to save the sister who, in her mind, was the least deserving of harsh retribution.

Adagio didn't budge. The silence lingered on for many more seconds before she inhaled deeply, and set her gaze upon Starshot. “No. Take me,” she said.

Aria’s jaw fell open. Starshot cocked an eyebrow, intrigued.

“What the hell are you saying, Adagio?” Aria breathed. “Are you serious, right now? Are you really going to sell us out like this? Are you really willing to do that to her?” She tugged at Sonata’s robes, pushing her toward their elder.

Adagio paid them no mind, only continued to look at Starshot. “I'm the savviest. I can be useful to you in tricky situations. I am not purely driven by emotion like my kin. I know when to ration my power, and I am wise enough to understand that betraying you while I am alone would not be in any of our best interests. I am your clear choice.”

Her sisters stood there, stunned. Sonata had begun to cry crocodile tears again. With all the old feelings of betrayal welling up inside her chest, she bid herself not to wither to dust where she stood.

Aria gawked, furious, her fists clenched. “Bitch,” she hissed. “You bitch! You're seriously going to do this to us? Now? After all we've been through? After all the trouble you've gotten us into? After all these centuries? This is how you end it? For a couple more chances to look into a mirror and eat that useless mortal garbage?”

Adagio said nothing, pretending as if Aria wasn't there.

“Oh, so now we don't exist again, ey, Adagio Dazzle?” Aria chuckled bitterly, tears beginning to streak her face, too. “Fine. That's fine. I just want you to know something. Know that I hate you. If I was ever unsure about it before, I'm not anymore. And you deserve it. Everything that this asshole wizard has accused us of being is true for you. You really are cold. You really are an empty witch! Well, I hope while you watch us starve to death you'll be able to stand yourself for those five extra minutes you’ll get as a reward, you hag! I hope you'll be satisfied then!”

“Do we have a deal or not, Starshot?” Adagio asked the mage, ignoring her sister's words.

Aria, frustrated and filled with indignation lunged forward to slap her elder sister across the face, throttling her by the collar. Her actions were halted by a bright beam of gold.

Starshot stepped forward amongst them, his movements slow and thoughtful. Turning his head to look at Aria, he nodded. “You will not strike her again, or I shall activate your collar. Understand?”

Aria, shaking with tears, shook her head. “Fry me then, you son of a bitch. I hate you both so much,” she muttered to herself.

Starshot said nothing more, only waited until the distraught Siren inevitably gave him a nod of surrender. She fell to the ground, limp.

The mage looked upon Adagio. He studied her dispassionately as she gazed straight ahead into emptiness, perhaps all that was left for her. She didn't shake. She didn't even seem to breathe. Maybe, at last, she really had gone all cold like stone.

“I'm afraid I cannot make things that simple for any of you,” Starshot sighed, inspiring a gawk of surprise from all three. “I’ve weighed my options, you see, and while pitting one of you against your kin to prove to you the depths of your own betrayal might have seemed a tempting notion to begin with, I can't say that it would be as satisfying as a slower alternative.”

“W… what exactly are you saying then?” Adagio choked.

Starshot leaned in, a triumphant grin on his maw. “I am say-ing… that I'll take my chances working with each of you, for a slower burn toward your fates, if that makes any sense, Adagio.”

A quiet chortling could be heard behind them both. When Adagio looked toward Starshot’s back, she caught Aria laughing heartily where she sat upon the floor.

“Wow. This is rich!” the purple Siren bellowed, clapping her hands. “How does it feel, you backstabbing succubus? How does it feel to be bamboozled?” She swiped at a stale tear. “Oh, I've got to hand it to you, Starshit. That was good.”

Starshot didn't address her, only continued to stare calmly into Adagio's eyes, lapping up her frustration, her understanding about what she had just done. “It hurts to be alone, doesn't it, Adagio?” he asked.

“Bu… Y… you just said that…” Adagio stammered.

“He lied!” Aria exclaimed, spreading her arms out wide with a show of sarcastic fanfare. “And it was awesome, Adagio. I for one thank our crazy, gray,shitlord for showing us the type of creature you really are.” She got to her feet and dusted off her hands.

Adagio’s brow furrowed. She moved to say something but chose to bite her tongue instead. “Aria… I…” she stuttered, eyeing her sister with a look of desperation, a look that Aria no longer had the mindset to notice.

“Don’t even, Adagio,” Aria hissed. “Don't ever.” She turned toward Starshot, hands upon her hips. “Well, I'm in my right ol’ suicidal state of mind again, and for once, I don't even care! Perfect. Well done, Starshit. See me back to my dank cage, will ya?”

Still languishing in the tortured look hovering about Adagio’s entire being, the mage finally raised one arm to direct the fuchsia Siren forward. Sonata lingered behind for a moment to look into the eyes of her eldest sister who had chosen to cut her too deeply for words. Her eyes were dim, red with tears. She clutched at the cloth over heart.

Adagio, her mouth still fumbling for words, could only shake her head. “Sonata. Wait a second, please, just—”

“Blue!” Aria bellowed above their whispering.

Without another moment’s hesitation, Sonata swiped at the stray moisture about her cheeks and ran off toward her middle sister.

“Coming, Adagio?” Starshot snorted, attempting to hold back his amusement. “After all, you're the one with the long, long day tomorrow.”

A Stable Mundanity

The air was thick and pulsing with an old, familiar melody. Adagio Dazzle watched the deep, teal waters crash against the rocks on the shore. She was in a daze. Something wasn't right about this place, but she couldn't put her hoof on what. The emotions running through her—that of a profound sadness hovering silently beneath a rather plastic and fragile sense of joy—seemed inexplainable. It felt quite valid to be feeling these things, but for the life of her she couldn't remember why. Turning her gaze back toward what lay before her, her eyes met with a deep purple pair belonging to a rose-ish pegasus. The questioning look on the other pony's face made her nervous. Somehow she just knew that she had missed something.

It took a moment for the pegasus to speak. When she did, the words came labored and slow. "Well? If it were to be done again, knowing what would happen, would you?" she asked as she scratched the strange shadow of a birthmark between her chest and neck—a birthmark almost identical to Adagio's. The pegasus' expression almost pleaded for a reply.

Adagio blinked. She remembered this question too, and even though she couldn't recall what it was about, she had the feeling that it was something bad, something that held much weight depending on what her reply would be. She found herself unable to answer. Instead, she felt very much like crying.

Gazing down at her lap for a moment, and then staring back up at the glum pegasus, she was met with a tired look of frustration. Thus, it surprised her when the other pony seemed to fall into a state of meditation, running her hoof through one of her purple and green pigtails.

She then decisively reached out to touch her lap. "It's fine. We are alright," the pegasus said sounding a bit unsure of herself. The words echoed as Adagio felt the pony's hoof graze lightly against her. The touch was cool before it began to tingle, then burn. Something hit her in the chest as hard as a brick, and suddenly she was falling through blues and wisps of green, flashes of fire, and choking darkness. A buzzing in her ears became louder and louder until she swore she might go mad.

Adagio awoke with a start, jolting upward in her bed as the penetrating buzz of the alarm clock echoed against the walls of her skull. No matter how many weeks or months passed, it seemed that accursed digital shriek was something she would never get used to, especially considering what the sound of it had come to signify.

Reaching over to bang her fist against the off button, she finally took a moment to breathe deeply, and release a long, telling sigh. Her shoulders slumped as her eyes roamed about her body, remembering her arms, her fingers, her legs, and the burning scar that now lay in the space between her chest and chin where her now shattered pendant once sat. She glanced toward the slivers of light peaking in through the ribs of her window blinds. Scratching the unruly orange mop that sat atop her head, she gingerly rose to her feet, braced herself for a moment as she cracked her back, and slowly made her way out into the hall.

Dragging her fingers against the wall as she turned the corner, she hissed when they snagged upon a splinter protruding from a rough, worn patch upon its surface. For a house that had been charmed away from its previous owners about fifty years ago, things mostly seemed to be holding up well—not counting the essentials, like plumbing and wiring, which Adagio insisted on having maintained every two years anyway. Still, there were a couple flecks of chipped paint, worn wood here and there, and an iffy boiler in the dusty basement. She supposed that these weren't cause for immediate concern, especially since it was still summer, and especially considering the three girls' relatively new, dire, monetary predicament. Sucking upon the pained digit, Adagio eyed the patch sharply, and continued on her way.

Her morning routine was committed to memory at this point. First would come a knock on Aria's door at the end of the hall, then a quick tap on Sonata's as she headed toward the shower, and finally the inevitable second bang on that insufferable Aria's door after leaving the bathroom. Sonata was never any trouble when it came to getting up for work in the morning. While she was definitely not the brightest individual anyone was sure to meet, one thing amongst a few others that Adagio had always admired about the cheery, blue-haired girl was her tireless work ethic. She wasn't prone to complain or question, and even after they had lost their powers, she never once objected when Adagio had given them all the news that they would have to begin to make their living just like everyone else. In fact, it was Sonata who had first obtained a small job as a waitress to support her sister sirens whilst they were all fighting through those, first, emotionally draining days directly following their defeat at the Battle of the Bands.

At first, Adagio wasn't sure if any of them would pull through the crushing depression, the fighting, and not to mention the horrible physical symptoms of withdrawal from their no longer being able to feed on negative energy. In its place, the girls had to gradually learn to consume more cooked food than they usually would, something that their systems were definitely not ready for. One minute they would be hurling curses at each other, the next they'd be hurling up their dinners. However, despite their inability to consume this energy, they were still, for some reason, able to see it as it floated from and around its sources, venomously green, delicious smelling, and completely unattainable to them. Perhaps it was their fate kicking them while they were down for them to be further cursed with the ability to perceive that which they hungered for the most without ever being able to devour it again.

Between all these things were the tears. It had been dreadful, to say the least. There were a few times Adagio had been on the brink of leaving them both to their own corrupted devices, but fortunately she hadn't. Looking back, she didn't suppose that she would have been able to make it through the guilt that was sure to come afterward if she ever did leave. She wondered to herself whether this was actually a selfish decision or not, and in the mean time, recognized that while nothing would ever be able to heal the wounds of their profound loss, at least now she could breathe easier knowing that their lives had finally reached some sort of stable mundanity.

The warm water against her goldenrod skin was more than a comfort. Showers were life giving to her. After all this time living in this land-bound body, any moment spent in her beloved element was a moment worth cherishing. It was truly one of the highlights to her day, surpassed only by her ritualistic evening bath hour at which time it was expressly forbidden for anyone in the household to disturb her.

Feeling refreshed after washing away yet another evening's worth of haunting dreams, Adagio quickly wrapped her hair and body into two fresh towels, and headed back out into the hall. She began to hum to herself, but no sooner had she, did her brow furrow. The cracking, unfamiliar sound that escaped her throat was something that still broke her heart. Her greatest talent and her greatest love had been to sing, just like her companions, but she refused to let the tragic circumstances of their situation get to her, at least not right then. Even without their powers, she still considered herself the former sirens' leader, and knew that she couldn't allow herself to fall into a state of complete listlessness and despair right when they needed her the most. There would come a time for true grieving, a time to sit down, and actually comprehend what her life had turned into, but not now. Not for her.

Her eyes brightened when the enticing aroma of coffee and bacon wafted up from downstairs. Pausing a moment, she turned her head to face the steps. "Scrambled eggs, Sonata?" she called to the girl she knew was currently bustling about the kitchen.

"They're coming! Black pepper and cheese, right?" Sonata's cheery, though hoarse voice called from below.

A small smile escaped her. Turning about, feeling a little more chipper, she was suddenly met, again, with the off-putting sight of Aria's closed door sitting still and silent at the end of the hall. Grumbling to herself, she marched over, and banged loudly upon it, twisting the expectedly locked knob for emphasis. She knew that this would alarm the dour girl lurking within into consciousness at the threat of her personal space being invaded. "So help me, Aria, you're not going to be late, again!" she cried. "Don't make me pick the lock like last time!"

To her utter surprise, Aria's door swung open as Adagio hurled her fist at it one more time, almost making her fall into the room. The look on the rose-colored girl's face was nearly homicidal, and the fresh, dark circles around her tired eyes certainly didn't help this. She was clad only in her underwear; the worn, gray, oversized shirt of some obscure band; and a pair of ironically cheery, yellow slippers that clashed horribly with her skin. Her hair was loose, disheveled, and hung down to her waist in purple and green waves. Slowly sticking an indignant finger into the center of Adagio's chest, she prodded her as she spoke. Her eyes sparked. "My time slot got shifted. I start in the afternoons now. Do not. Come into. My room. Ever," she croaked painfully, her throat raw. She wasted no time in slamming the door back in Adagio's face.

The orange-haired girl huffed to herself, but decided it best not to get into an argument with her sister so early in the morning. Right before she turned to walk back to her room, she heard Aria's door crack open again. This time only a small, fuchsia nose and one purple eye peeked through the slit.

"Is that bacon she's got down there?" Aria rasped, her tone no less rude.

Adagio crossed her arms, and raised an eyebrow. An amused smile spread across her face. "Maybe, but I'm feeling extra hungry this morning; so, I'm not sure if there will be any left overs," she teased as she finally turned to head back to her room, waving a hand at the angry purple eye that watched her go.

Breakfast was relatively silent as usual, but the three girls were far too familiar with each other to feel anything resembling discomfort about such a thing. Sonata, who was currently flipping through a fashion magazine as she picked at her plate, had fixed up a reasonable batch of bacon and pancakes with a single platter of scrambled eggs set for Adagio. Adagio, fully dressed for the day in a knee-length black pencil skirt and frilly white blouse, ate quickly and daintily unlike Aria who, after somehow managing to drag her unwashed, underwear-clad body downstairs, now sat slumped over her plate, shoveling forkfuls of bacon and pancake into her already overpacked mouth. Adagio stared at her with a forkful of eggs hovering between her lips, uneaten. Her eyes trained on the half-naked siren before she put down her fork, and picked up the nearby coffee pot in order to top off her mug.

Despite what Aria Blaze might ever have been willing to admit out loud, it was clear to both Adagio and Sonata that she was the least able to cope with the loss of their powers, not to mention their beautiful voices. Oh, it had definitely taken a while for reality to set in, considering Aria's affinity for striking out in anger at that which she deemed confusing and unacceptable. However, after that first week and a half of rage, and countless half-formed plans for retaliation that always fell through, the dark cloud of realization moved in to overshadow all else. For the entire first month after their defeat, the pinkish girl had been utterly inconsolable, and Adagio, the peer whom she found more tolerable, could not get a word in with her before random objects and spiteful curses were hurled in her direction. Sometimes in the middle of the night when Adagio would make her secret trips to the attic where she stored a millenia's-worth of cherished belongings—things she liked to visit to reminisce, especially during these tough times—she would pass by Aria's room, and hear the faint sounds of muffled sobbing. At first, the protective instincts that Adagio never liked to admit she had would kick in, and she would always feel the need to venture forth to comfort the girl. However, time had proven to her that this was not a good idea, especially now. She knew that Aria at least partially blamed her for what she deemed the utter destruction of their lives. Perhaps she was correct in thinking so.

Still, it was never good to leave someone like that in their deeply depressive funk. Sure, knowing Aria, some of her reclusive ways were par for the course, but lately a few of her actions had begun to worry her companions. The usually aggressive and razor sharp girl had become even more reserved and reclusive than usual. She hardly spoke of her own volition anymore, and would quite often disappear for long swathes of time, sometimes returning home clearly drunk, disheveled, and exhausted. Her sense of humor had become even more grim and cold as she would now find amusing that which others would deem slightly disturbing. Sonata burning a finger upon a hot pot, for example, would inspire mirthful laughter, while accidentally receiving a static shock to her own finger would set her to chortling. At first it was annoying to the eldest former siren, but then gradually it dawned on her that maybe, just maybe, this was Aria's way of beginning to get comfortable with the idea of her own vulnerability, and more troubling, her own mortality. Of course, the other girls were immortal, like herself. Thus, it was made plain that a siren's mortality could only exist when the siren decided it should. Though such thoughts terrified Adagio, it was undeniable that Aria's current state had become a problem to which she could not foresee a happy conclusion. The girl needed a distraction from her own thoughts. So, in addition to forcing her to get a job—a concept which was obviously met with much resistance—Adagio also decided to be mindful to try to communicate with the other girl in whichever way seemed possible, even if she hated her for it. Therefore, when small opportunities for interaction presented themselves, she decided she would take them. Some way, somehow, Aria and Sonata would know that they were all still here and still living.

Placing her mug down, Adagio smirked at the sight of the sulking girl once again. "How difficult would it have been to put on some pants, for chaos' sake? I know we're all going through a great deal right now, but you don't have to eat as if you've completely given up all self respect," she chided before rolling her eyes, and taking a bite from her plate of pancakes. "Besides, you know you're going to barf again if you stuff yourself that much."

To this, Aria slowly raised her head, and turned it to stare lazily at her elder. Her mouth was packed to bursting, but for a moment it appeared as if she might actually say something to her. Adagio raised an eyebrow, waiting for the inevitable rebuttal or snide remark, and instead was met with a loud, disgusting belch after which Aria turned her attentions back toward her meal.

"You're revolting," Adagio sneered as the dour girl raised a middle finger toward her in return.

Sonata's snickering, which had been tittering since Aria's gross display, was suddenly silenced at the sight of her rude gesture. She seemed to quietly be praying for calm to prevail as she glanced between the both of them. Anyone could see, looking at her own weary, darkened eyes, that she too had been taxed by all the goings on of the past few months. "Oh, come on, girls. Don't fight. It's Friday! I hear that new vampire movie that came out is pretty good. Why don't we go check it out tomorrow?" she posed gently, trying to change the subject.

To this, Aria sat up straight in her chair and laughed, small bits of pancake escaping from between her lips. She forced her mouthful of food down, and turned to Adagio who had already risen to her feet, mug in hand, preparing to head out. "Yea, Adagio. Why don't you go check out the frilly vampire movie with her?" she chortled, completely ignoring Sonata's bruised expression. "You two could make it a date!"

Adagio had been maintaining her composure all morning, but for some reason the obnoxious sound of Aria's forced laughter was the tipping point. Slamming her hand against the table, making all of the dishes on top shake, she passed the pinkish woman a serious and unamused expression which demanded nothing less than complete attention and respect. It was a look that even Aria knew not to test. Taking off a pair of sunglasses that hung from her neckline, Adagio placed them upon her face. Then, without missing a beat, she turned to walk briskly toward the door. "Sorry, Sonata," she called back without a second glance. "Some kid I teach just started cram school on Fridays. His dragon of a mother thought it would do the poor bastard some good to have his piano lessons on Saturdays—double time. With me. That level of bitchiness is admirable. Besides, we've gotta save the money."

After she put on some black flats and a sweater the same color as her eyes, she picked up a stack of notation booklets, and turned to leave. Sonata, too distracted with her own thoughts, stared only for a moment at Aria who now looked into her plate with an expression even more tired than the one she had come downstairs with. Turning her attention back toward the eldest siren, Sonata quickly bolted upward, and raced to stop her from walking out of the door.

Even with her body blocking Adagio's path and precious time of the essence, Sonata still found it troublesome to find the proper words for what it was she had wanted to say.

Knowing that the younger girl didn't usually put that much thought into her words, Adagio immediately became suspicious. Once again, one of her sleek, orange eyebrows rose slowly, twitching in expectation of that which was sure to annoy her."Sonata," she said in a cautioning tone. "What is it?"

"I... Well..." the other girl began.

"Spit it out! I've gotta go!" Adagio yelled, threatening to push past her.

"Weeelll, you see, I was just thinking that perhaps we've been cooped up in the house for too long, and it's not good for us to just work and stay home, and work and stay home all the time, and we should really try to get out this weekend, you know? Like to the movies or a restaurant or camping, or—"

"No," Adagio interrupted harshly, pushing past her, but not before plopping her empty coffee mug down in the blue girl's hands. "We simply can't afford that right now, and you know it."

Sonata turned as she walked past, a heartbroken expression upon her face. "Adagio, it's just this one time!" she pleaded. "I... I think it would do us all some good!"

"I said no!" Adagio yelled with finality as she turned onto the sidewalk, and headed down the street. "And I don't want to hear about it, again!"

Gripping feebly at her own shoulder, Sonata bowed her head. She then headed back into the house, slamming the front door behind her.

She and Aria now sat at the table, both in a glum state, picking at what remained of their breakfast.

Thinking that she might finish the rest of Adagio's eggs, Sonata had placed them beside her own plate, only to end up picking at those as well. After a while, she glanced upward, remembering that Aria was still there. "Want these?" she posed, raising the plate of half eaten eggs toward the glum, rosy girl.

Aria stared at her for a moment as if contemplating whether or not it was worth it to get a verbal jab in while Sonata was feeling vulnerable. She decided against it. "Pass 'em here," she stated, reaching for the plate, and immediately digging in.

Sonata looked at her curiously, a memory clearly having dawned on her.

Aria, catching her eyes twice between mouthfuls, managed on the third glance to address her staring. "What is it?"

"Have you been having dreams?" Sonata asked gently, beginning to twist the end of her blue ponytail around her finger.

Aria looked her over, and then cocked an eyebrow. "Of course I dream, genius. Though, lately the theme is mostly about how that bitch Adagio ruined our lives," the dour girl croaked before focusing her attention back onto her plate.

"Come on, Ari. You don't mean that. You know that Adagio has always tried her hardest for us," Sonata gently chided, not wanting to get the other girl's temper up. She immediately knew she had failed when Aria's head snapped upward to gaze at her, fire in her eyes.

"How can you still believe that?" she hissed at first. "Seriously, Sonata, how on Earth can you still believe that? That bitch? Adagio has only ever tried her hardest for herself!" She banged her fist on the table, making Sonata jump in her seat. "Despite what she may tell you, despite whatever lies she may tell herself, we're just her accessories. We've always just been her accessories. A means to her end." She said this last bit almost as if she were crushed to hear herself speak it out loud. By and by, she picked up her fork, and began to eat once again.

It appeared as if Aria's words had only served to confuse Sonata, considering the slightly contorted expression upon the younger siren's face. Aria already knew what it was that proved difficult to understand, but she refused to mention it. She refused to acknowledge that perhaps what had happened to them at the Battle of the Bands at the hands of those stupid, stupid Rainbooms was, in all actuality, none of their fault. Especially considering their own natures, and their need to harvest and feed upon negative energy for sustenance, it would seem that what had happened was simply the result of some good timing and some very bad luck.

A sudden look of profoundness washed over Sonata's face. It didn't happen often, but during the few times it did, one was able to see clearly the two millennia's worth of depth that lay beneath that seemingly naive exterior. As much as could be said about the other girl's processing abilities, Aria still had to admit to herself that the endless lives' worth of experiences they had acquired in this world was something that they all had in common. They had just decided a long time ago to express it in very different ways. Sonata's go-to choice seemed to be relentlessly attempting to drive everyone around her insane with silly commentary. "We are what we are, Ari," she began in a low, unwavering tone. "Adagio will be Adagio, and you know that we aren't much better. You know that we're the same."

"Well, we aren't sirens anymore, are we? We aren't vessels of chaos, anymore. Hell, we can't even sing worth a damn, anymore!" Aria hissed, cutting straight to the point. "And now that we're no longer sirens, what does that make us? Answer that, oh sage. What is our purpose? What are we here for now? To live out our eternity toiling away like a bunch of those pitiful saps out there? At least they're given the pleasure of dropping dead after half a century or so!"

Everything went dead silent as the air became as thick as the pancakes Aria had dug back into.

Sonata looked calmly into her lap, either unable or unwilling to process what the other girl had just said. Instead, she chose to change the subject. "I dream of the beach. The one from the beginning, where we met. Do you?" she posed.

Aria's gaze tellingly snapped up to meet her own.

"It's just that, lately I've been hating to sleep. Lately, the dreams just don't stop. I feel like... something horrible is going to happen. I've gotta get out of this place for just a second! Somewhere, anywhere besides this place and Sammy's," Sonata blurted, resting her forehead tiredly in her palm. "Idunno, I feel like I'm losing it or something, you know?" She shrugged, looking up, and pointing a tired yet syrupy sweet smile in Aria's direction.

At Sonata's words, the tiniest flicker of concern flashed across Aria's face, but not one the blue haired girl would have ever noticed. Taking a moment to breathe deeply, Aria swallowed her mouthful of food, and gently placed her fork down beside her plate. She then dusted off her hands.

For a moment, Sonata thought that maybe she might say something encouraging.

"You know, Sonata, you're asking me a lot of questions way too early in the morning," Aria muttered, turning onto an unexpected offensive. "Do I do this to you? Do I pop up, dripping hearts and shrill sounds all over the place, asking you a bunch of questions first thing in the morning?"

Sonata stiffened in her seat. "No, but—"

"Okay, then. So, could you please just give it a rest?" Aria yelled, after which the room fell into another depressing silence, only to be broken by the sounds of her continued munching.

After a moment of watching Sonata's sad face stare down at her half-eaten pancakes, Aria sighed heavily, and rolled her eyes. She leaned back in her seat. Resting a hand on her full belly, she glanced the younger girl over once again. Perhaps it was only to clear the air of the previous conversation that she finally spoke up. "You know you can still go to that thing, or whatever it is you were talking about, right? Your glampire flick," she began.

"No, I can't. Adagio said that we have to save our money," Sonata replied, her voice leaking disappointment.

At this Aria only scoffed, rolling her eyes, once again. "Our money. Right. Leave it up to Adagio to lay claim to every damn inch of everything that someone doesn't plant a flag down on first. She's got some nerve, considering she refuses to sell all that old, useless jewelry she's got stashed away in the attic. We shouldn't even have to work. Listen here. Adagio isn't the one showing off her 'gals' to those greasy dudes down at that ol' burger joint for two dollar tips," Aria stated, crudely grabbing her own breasts, and squeezing them for emphasis. "You are. Far as I'm concerned, you should be able to do whatever you want with your money." She sneered before reaching forward to snatch up the last piece of bacon, and chomping down on it.

The question of whether to disobey Adagio didn't often occur to Sonata, but it was clear that it had at that particular moment. Her eyes, so similar to the eldest siren's, went wide, and slowly she began to nod as if convincing herself of something. "My money," she breathed.

"S'right," Aria agreed, pointing at her with the bacon strip.

"Yea!" Sonata yelled, rising to her feet, and slamming the table. A glimmer of confidence grew in her eyes. Catching sight of Aria one last time, she raced around the table toward her sister siren. Her arms instinctively opened, preparing for an embrace. "Let's do it! Let's go out together! We do need a break, right?"

"Ah!" Aria protested, holding out her bacon defensively, and wielding it like a sword. She almost fell backward out of her chair in an attempt to get away from the impending hug. "No touching rule, remember? Touching bad!"

"Oh, right," Sonata giggled, quickly putting her hands back where they belonged: at her sides.

After the seated girl was absolutely sure that her sister would not attempt another embrace, she relaxed back into her seat. "Okay, number one," she began, feigning composure. "I don't like you."

Sonata's face fell into an adorable pout, one that, at least today, was incapable of penetrating Aria's energy-starved, and possibly hungover psyche.

"Number two, I've got plans. There's a horror movie marathon on Saturday, and I don't wanna be disturbed."

"Ok, well... I mean... thanks, Aria. You don't think Dagi will be too angry, do you? It's been such a long time since we... you know. She'll understand, right?"

Aria stared at the doe-eyed girl with an expression that begged the question: What do you think? Taking one last chew at whatever remained in her mouth, she sighed before rolling her eyes, and returning her attention to her nearly empty plate. "Sure, she'll understand."

It wasn't until Sonata had skipped back upstairs to grab some things before work, and then quickly headed back down and out of the front door, that Aria finally reached across the table to grab what was left of the cheery siren's pancakes.

"Idiot," she mumbled to herself before picking up her fork. Before she could put a single mouthful between her lips, she felt a terrible tremor in the pit of her stomach, and tasted a strange sweetness upon her tongue. She gagged, and dropped her fork. Covering her clamped mouth with her hand, she bolted up out of her seat, and raced across the room toward the nearest toilet.

___

"There's my favourite waitress!" the mustached, tan-hued, white-haired wall of a man cried in a heavy city accent as Sonata rushed into the half-empty establishment.

She quickly tore off the jacket that she wore over her work clothes: some black shorts along with a black waist apron, and a red shirt with 'Sammy's' emblazoned across the upper right chest. "Sorry! Sorry, I'm late!" she huffed as she picked up an empty tray from the counter, and rushed toward the back of the restaurant to get to her locker.

The mustached man smiled, and shook his head as he watched her pass. "It's only a minute past ten, my dear. Take a breath, why don'tcha? And tell that kid of mine to bring his tail out here!" he said as he moved to head back behind the grill to turn some of the sausages that had begun to sizzle.

Pausing at the doorway to the back rooms, Sonata decided to take the man's statement to heart. She inhaled almost too deeply, and then let out a long, loud breath. Afterwards, she popped up to smile at Sammy. "That did feel good! Thanks, Sam! I'm on it!" she exclaimed with a genuine smile as she disappeared through the door.

In the dull gray back rooms, a far contrast from the bright red and white main floor of Mr. Sammy Salami's Diner and Grill, Sonata rushed to her locker, took a moment to carefully enter the lock combination, and popped it open. The interior of her locker looked exactly as anyone who knew Sonata might suppose it would. It was covered in photos of her sister sirens, favourite celebrities, a few mismatched pieces of old jewelry, pink socks, and one cracked mirror having long outlived its usefulness. Practically throwing her jacket inside, she reached into the locker, and pulled out her name tag which she immediately began to wrestle into place.

Just at that moment, the nearby back door swung open making her jump. She pricked her finger with the tag pin, and cried aloud, bending over, and sucking on the sore finger.

At the same time, in from the back parking lot rushed a tan-hued, green-haired young man, far too tall and far too skinny. He waved his arms apologetically, clearly having heard Sonata's cry of pain. "Sorry, Sonny! Didn't mean to scare you, there. Just taking out the trash!" the young man exclaimed, forcing an embarrassed smile, and backing up into the open bathroom door to wash his hands.

Sonata forced the pain in her finger down, and plastered her own smile onto her face. "Oh, it's okay, J.R. It's nothing, really. Just a poke!" she muttered, turning her attention back toward the pin, and finally getting it into place.

"Junior! That you?" Came Sammy's loud, booming voice from out front. "Get ya rear out here! We've got a ton of orders waitin' for ya!"

Poor J.R.'s attention was torn in every which direction. Choosing, hesitantly, to finish speaking to Sonata, he tried to glance over her shoulder at the offended finger, then rung off the excess water from his hands. "You sure? Hold on a sec," he said, reaching into the mirror cabinet, and popping out a band aid. Hustling over quickly, he held it out for her to take.

Glancing down at the band aid, Sonata noticed that it was covered with small, pink hearts. Her eyes brightened, and she gleefully took it from him. "Cy-oote!" she exclaimed, opening it up, and quickly wrapping it around her aching finger. "Thanks, J.R.!"

Fighting off the heat that threatened to overtake his entire head, J.R. scratched the back of his dome, and smiled. "Eh, it suits you," he laughed, his cheeks turning red.

Sonata smiled sweetly at him, and suddenly the tan-colored boy found himself lost in her gaze.

His smile widened at the sight of her. Slowly, his lips parted, and it seemed as if he was fighting with himself to find the right words to say.

"Junior! I'm not gonna ask ya again!" Sammy called once more from out front, a twinge of irritation leaking into his voice.

"Oops! Gotta go," J.R. exclaimed bashfully, backing up toward the front rooms. "See you, Sonny!" He immediately disappeared through the door, but not before miscounting the distance it took to keep himself from accidentally slamming his back into it first.

Sonata smiled. Shaking her head, she closed her locker, preparing to head back out to the floor. "Kinda goofy, that kid," she muttered to herself, admiring her band aid one last time before walking away.

Trial and Error

Earlier that day, whilst brooding at the kitchen table, the plan had seemed quite clear to Adagio. She would be having three private classes that afternoon, and at each of them, would conduct a number of experiments to test whatever effectiveness, if any, was left in her shattered pendant. These enterprises were to be carried out in a variety of ways. For example, whilst instructing little Filene Forte, her first student of the afternoon, Adagio had begun her trials by attempting to sing an incantation outright as she clutched the box. Unfortunately, it seemed that the force that opened the lyrical wellspring in her mind, like the rest of her musical powers, no longer functioned in the way that she deemed it should. She could only gape down toward her own mouth in horror as it fumbled over her crude, unappealing words.

Filene, Filene,
Won’t you come and obey,
M-my wishes and… whims,
On the… menu to—

"Oh, dear Discord..."

Obviously, this horrible excuse for a song had no effect on the little girl who stood there in Adagio’s shadow looking quite confused and afraid. The former siren then quickly excused herself to the bathroom to have a good vomit. Alright, so maybe lyrics would not come as innately to her as they would an undamaged siren. All this meant was that she would just have to apply a little more effort and preparation, that’s all.

When she returned from the restroom, her hair was gathered up into a large bun once again. Adagio couldn’t put her finger on why, but for the past two days, the feeling of her hair, hot against her body, and constantly brushing against her shoulders, had begun to irritate her. Like the extra fat on a slab of meat, or a hedge full of overgrown rose bushes, all of a sudden, the giant, orange mass had become somewhat of an unnecessary nuisance that drew her away from the extremely serious matter now at hand. Just like any other irritant, it needed to be out of the way; thus, she quickly resolved herself to keeping it up like this, at least for the time being.

Upon entering the living room where the piano was located, Adagio patted little Filene on the head whilst reassuring herself that the girl was far too young for any of the previous incident to have latched onto her long term memory. Surely, she’d forget the former siren’s singing had ever even happened.

“Go ahead, short stuff,” she said boredly as she took her place by Filene’s side at the piano bench. “Whatever it was we did last week, from the top.”

As the girl fumbled through her notes, much to Adagio’s dismay, the former siren bided her time by penning out fresh lyrics in her notation booklets. By the time the lesson was over, she had jotted down something that wasn’t as technical or beautiful as any of her siren incantations, but was still acceptable. Patting Filene on the head one last time, Adagio was quick to let the girl know how much work she still needed despite barely having heard a note of her playing. After all, if she were to err on the side of reason, then it was more likely than not that the child was just as lousy as any other 'mortalling' who had only known music for but a moment of their lives. Adagio bounded upward to leave. There was far too much to do today, and in too little a time.

Brownie, a little piano prodigy and whiz kid, was the student she tutored next. His mother, Ms. Bits, was a rather domineering, frightfully strict woman who, as far as the former siren could tell, was always trying to squeeze more tutors for skills no one really needed into her son’s life. Try as she might, the woman seemed unable to break him; however, this didn’t mean that Adagio didn’t find great humor in witnessing her many attempts.

The curly haired girl had to admit that despite the best efforts of both his mother and herself, what Brownie was able to pull off during his piano lessons was quite admirable for a mere mortal child. He had even, on one occasion, managed to outplay Adagio by a single note, purely by mistake. Of course, this didn’t sit well with her. Clearly, this kid was begging to be crushed. Consequently, she would enjoy torturing Brownie with the most difficult piano pieces she could find, just to see how his mother would react when he did happen to play that one incorrect note time and again. Every week was a new delight; concertos, sonatas, waltzes, and ballades would be passed his way in stacks along with a very quick deadline, all for Adagio’s wicked amusement.

“D. It’s a D sharp, Brownie!” she groaned. “How many times do I have to tell you?”

In truth, the boy had successfully gotten through six pages of a rather complex nocturne before, to Adagio’s glee, he stumbled right at the finish line. Looking rather exhausted, having played the tune no less than ten times during the session, the child turned to look up at his instructor with weary, pleading eyes. A cruel smile spread across her face as she leaned over to face him at eye level.

“A-gain,” she bid him, at which point Brownie released a heavy sigh, and started playing from the top.

Adagio had been having so much needed fun that she’d nearly forgotten about her experiment. Fighting off the urge to watch Brownie crash and burn one more time, the curly haired girl reached into the small purse she had brought along that day, and pulled out her gem box. Cracking it open, she poured the shards into her palm, and held them tight. She was willing to tolerate the sharp pain of the broken fragments if it meant discovering, or rather rediscovering, something about her powers.

Glancing at Brownie fuss and fume over his nocturne, Adagio decided that now would be the perfect time to test her abilities. The piano playing was boorish, and lacked intimacy, as usual for mortals; thus, she figured that if she were to sing quietly, no one would be able to detect her influences upon them. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes, and squeezed her palm tighter around the shards.

From the pits of your mind,
I rise up and call to you.
Answer and obey me,
Do what I say to d—

“Ms. Adagio?” Brownie interrupted her, his piano playing coming to a halt. Adagio’s eyes shot open, irritation splashed across her face. For a moment, she had almost lost herself in her song. It had even nearly given her a comforting, familiar feeling reminiscent of her wielding Siren magic.

“What, Brownie?” she hissed.

“I… I don’t think I can play while you’re singing like—”

“I’m not singing! I’m… keeping track of your dynamics. Now, start over!”

The boy was startled into playing, delving deeper into the sheet music which, at this point, he had practically memorized. Taking a deep breath, Adagio turned around, and closed her eyes once again.

Your will flies away,
Like a bird in the winds…

Brownie, trying to speed through the nocturne, was nearing the end of the piece. As he approached the portion that he could never seem to get right, Adagio found her attention wavering between her own words and his playing.

And as I b… bore deeper,
Your…

One of her eyes popped open to angrily stare down the child as the tempo of the song began to slow. She felt her hands balling up into fists, the shards grazing her even deeper. Shaking her head clear, and closing her eyes again, she powered on.

And as I bore deeper,
Your little mind sp—aaAAH!

“D! It’s a D. Sharp. Brownie!” she interrupted herself, banging her fists down hard upon the board as the boy, once again, muddled up the ending. Aborting her mission, she quickly snatched up her gem box, placed the shards back inside, and turned to face the child. “For Chaos' sake, if I knew you were planning on butchering two hundred year old classics, I would have given you “Chopsticks” instead. Out of my way!”

Adagio, brandishing her curvaceous hips like a battering ram, bumped the boy clear off of the bench, and reseated herself in its center. Brownie, too exhausted and shaken to do anything but cower in Adagio’s line of sight, rolled away onto the floor, practically limp.

Her nimble fingers made the nocturne look easy. As she flipped through its pages, it was made clear that she had not even needed them to play. Staring daggers into Brownie’s eyes, she cleared a quarter, then half, then three quarters of the complex song until finally, she reached the portion that the child simply could not get right. Pausing, she pushed down hard upon the little, black key again, and again, trying to drill the point into the boy’s head.

“See? Far from rocket science,” she said, then leaning in to whisper. “So help me, Brownie, you’re gonna get this right. If not this century then the next. I’ll be here, you know!”

Brownie who, by this point, could only manage a frantic nod of his head, never expected the other voice that soon came booming from somewhere inside of the kitchen.

“Me too!” Ms. Bits could be heard yelling from the other room. Adagio smiled with satisfaction. By thunder, if the propensity for loving mortals still existed within her, that woman would have her heart.

The former siren sighed to herself later on as she walked down the street, headed toward her final lesson for the day. Twisting a frazzled finger through a loosened curl, she shook her head in frustration. So, the lesson at the Bits’ didn’t quite go as expected either, but it had only been the first day of her trials. Surely, things would soon turn around. Surely, Brownie would not always be able to pull her attention away so easily with his failures. Still, somewhere in the depths of her mind, Adagio knew, and perhaps didn't want to acknowledge her desperate desire to see some effect, some sign of progress as soon as possible.

As she walked, the girl wondered to herself if the urge to torment those who were weaker and more vulnerable than she was just too tempting to ignore. If this was the case, then she would have to be more realistic about which students she decided to test her capabilities on. Fortunately for her, the next and last student on her list wasn’t another tiny, snotnosed brat.

Striker was almost perfect—for a mortal. It was something even Adagio had to cede. He was the perfect cook, the perfect handyman, the perfect aspiring electronic musician, notably handsome, and obnoxiously humble about it. In addition to all this, he also happened to be the perfect young father. Of course, all of these things would not be complete without a perfectly gorgeous wife and home to go along with them. Even Adagio could only presume that had she, in the dawn of her life, had any desire for a common, yet comfy existence, this type of thing would have suited her well. Coming over every week to be subjected to the kind of warm contentment that seemed to float about Striker and his home filled Adagio with an emotion that she couldn’t quite place; it hovered somewhere between amused fascination and enraged jealousy.

He had been one of Adagio’s first students, and whilst he was hardly the greatest musician as far as technicality and ability were concerned, his love for the art was profound. It made her smile, and reminded her of a child experiencing pain or eating sweets for the first time. She found it all quite endearing and much needed, though she could and would never reveal this to anyone else. Being around her sisters for such a long time, she had all but forgotten that such depthful passions could exist in the mortal realm. In hindsight, it seemed so obvious. These creatures couldn’t wield musical magic, and most of them weren’t anything like the few superstars who belted out their sonic garbage in exchange for green paper and short lived notoriety. Why else, then, would the rest of them love music except for the joy it brought them?

She accepted that such a love mixed with such a power as a siren’s could not survive for long without, at least partially, becoming corrupted. If anyone could harp on about the ways in which Adagio, since the beginning of her life, had been driven to use her gift to gain what she desired, she would have been the most capable of doing so. Regardless, this did not stop her appreciation for song, and it did not hinder her from feeling refreshed to find someone new who was so infatuated and in love with music purely for the pleasure that it brought them. It was easy for Adagio to forget the inevitability of a siren’s perversion when she was present in Striker’s happy, little world.

Upon their meeting for the first time, she remembered that he had given her a rather in depth tour of his sprawling home studio whilst very nearly talking both of her ears off.

“This is my signed record collection. I’ve only got ten, but they’re all gems. This is my state-of-the art soundproofing. It just looks like foam, but you could crash a car in here, and no one outside of this room would ever know.”

Finally, after much babbling, the man walked over to what appeared to be a silver, eighty-eight key, electronic keyboard, glided a hand over its surface, and beamed with pride.

“This is my newest, and most prized addition. It’s actually why you’re here. I’ve tried playing around with it with what little skills I have, and its been disappointing to say the least. Well, I guess I mean I’ve been disappointing. It’s only a waste if I don’t learn how to play it, right?”

Full of skepticism, Adagio walked over to the instrument, and ran her fingers over its surface. She then pressed down onto the board, playing through a short, yet expectedly brilliant piece before admiring the fact that the keys were almost weighted like the real thing. However, never one to give too many compliments, especially to a modern twist of convenience on what she deemed to be a perfect instrument, she spun around to face him. The usual smirk was plastered upon her face.

“It’s no Steinway, but it’s not bad,” she sighed. “I suppose I can teach you on this.”

Striker beamed at her, and she felt the need to roll her eyes to save herself from genuinely smiling in return.

One would think that Striker, or anyone who was married, really, would be put off by Adagio’s looks, and the fact that they would often be left alone for long periods of time every week. Even someone like him must have known that this particular play’s setting and characters would, in any other circumstance, make for quite a scandalous performance. The former siren could not say that the notion of kicking up a little worry in this perfect little home didn’t slightly excite her chaos-starved heart. Yet, to either her increased astonishment or comfort—she couldn’t tell which—nothing ever happened. Striker, she should have known, would always act like the ideal gentleman that he was. Despite the fact that they would often sit rather close upon the studio seat, she never once caught him turning to lose himself in the smell of her perfume. Despite their fingers often bumping into one another’s upon the board, it seemed that he had no desire to take her hand in his. Even as she would toss about the usual insults that she threw at all of her students when they inevitably disappointed her, he always remained jovial, and took it all in stride. The negative energy that floated around him never exploded to give credence to any lustful thoughts or bitter frustrations he might have had about the former siren. Though this did often work to annoy her, Adagio had to admit that she also found it quite impressive.

To her dismay, when she entered the house that day, a sickly feeling seemed to descend upon her. Striker smiled brightly, as happy to see her as could be expected, and this only made her feel worse. It took her a moment to realize that what she was experiencing was guilt. She looked down at the bag she carried which contained her gem box, and bit her lip. She knew that the very real potential that she might, on this particular occasion, purposely bring chaos into his happy home was necessary if she wished to realize her abilities. The emotion was startling to her. At what point had she begun to care about the happiness of mortals?

“Adagio! You’re early today,” The green-eyed man said, moving aside to let her in. His genuine grin stung her, and she edged away as she entered.

“Yea, well, my last lesson ended early. The kid passed out from exhaustion or something. Idunno,” she shrugged, taking off her sweater. This drew a laugh from Striker until he could see, clearly, the grim and detached shadows splashed across her face.

“You alright? You look kind of… sick,” he asked worriedly, moving to stand in front of her. She didn’t want to meet his eyes, but slowly forced herself to look at him. Irritation began to grow inside of her as she regarded his expression. He actually cared about how she was feeling. Her, a broken, immortal, devourer of negative energy.

What a fool.

She rolled her eyes.

“Cripes, Striker, stop being such a damned saint all the time, will you? It's nauseating,” she said, then tossing her sweater into his hands before walking away toward the studio in a huff.

___

“That was better. It barely sounded like a cat running across the board this time,” Adagio sighed, trying to hide a self-indulgent smile. Striker began to laugh, and ran a hand over his jet black hair.

“Wow, did you actually use the word ‘better’ in a sentence? You’re getting soft,” he quipped.

Paying his words no mind, she swatted a hand in his direction. By this point, the man knew that this meant to slide over on the seat to give her room to play. Once again, she zipped through the concerto without glancing at the sheet music.

“See my wrists? They haven’t fallen. Keep your wrists up. Remember, that it is forte until page three when we move to piano,” Adagio began, once again showing off her prowess by playing impeccably while speaking at the same time. “Don’t just hammer the entire, damn thing like a circus bear. You have to follow the story of the music. It’s a tune dedicated to a secret lover. Can’t you hear it?”

Losing herself in the music, she smiled. This was one of her favourite concerto pieces despite its simplicity. Sure, it had been painful to listen to Striker butcher it for the first two weeks of him playing the thing, but as it came together, she found herself feeling something akin to pride in his progress. Of course, a mortal could never truly perfect or understand such a piece unless they were its creator. However, because she didn’t hate the man expressly as she did most of these “walking food bags,” she resolved herself to the attempt of making him understand. Maybe, out of curiosity, she wanted to know whether or not the propensity for loving music as deeply as a realized siren were possible in him. Her eyes went dreamy, and it seemed as if she had floated a million miles away as the song progressed through its stages.

“Here there is majesty; they discover their love for each other, and it’s unlike anything else they’ve ever witnessed. Then the despair at being wrenched apart. Short, sparse notes. Dark. Sharp. There is nothing in their lives that can fulfill them like each other,” she continued. Now, forcing herself to return to reality, she turned to face Striker who seemed to be observing her fingers with awe. His head nodded in amazement as if he finally comprehended what she was speaking of.

“Come here,” she commanded. “Now, you try playing from page three.”

She slid over quickly, hoping that in his new aura of understanding he might be able to improve upon the tune. Striker set his hands upon the board, and picked up the light, rolling melody from where Adagio had left off.

“Remember, piano. Here, they wait, and meet in secret. Soft notes. Don’t tap the keys, you idiot!” she exclaimed, swatting at his hands. Striker immediately corrected his mistake. “There. Slow. Legato. Long, drawn out like the night. Pianissimo here. You can hear their soft touches in the dark. Gradually it gains volume and power as if day approaches. Their frustrations at having to be parted grow, once more, and—”

“It’s like it explodes or falls apart,” Striker interrupted her, his head still nodding as he played, lost in his own thoughts. “The notes sound desperate, like running footsteps.”

Adagio’s gaze snapped to his face, her eyes wide. She slowly nodded her head in agreement.

“They run, and are caught. The ending, fortissimo, finally falls to a piano. The notes slow down, and end abruptly.”

“A struggle, and then… something bad happens. I can’t tell what. What is it?” Striker asked, trying to decipher what he was playing. Adagio’s head nodded slowly as her gaze seemed to float away to some distant place. She never even noticed her own eyes beginning to grow glossy with tears.

“They’re caught, and they die together,” she murmured as the song ended, and Striker placed his hands in his lap. The two of them seemed lost in the land that they had imagined, both watching the lovers that had now become so real in their minds, lying there, cold and stiff. For Adagio, the song implied far more than Striker, or anyone else but her sisters could ever know. A memory from long ago sunk in, and planted itself within her head. Despair seemed to grow on her face as the images became more and more vivid.

“It isn’t quite a happy ending. For them, there could be none, but in a way, there is peace because at least they had found a way to escape together.”

Her voice shook, and was so quiet that it startled Striker into turning to stare into her eyes. Noticing the tears therein, his brow furrowed. Clearly, the song wasn’t all the girl had been thinking about as she sat there. Something very real was on her mind.

“Adagio? What’s the matter?” he asked, opting to wave a hand in front of her dazed eyes instead of touching her, something she might have found inappropriate.

“Hm? Oh,” Adagio sighed as she snapped back into the present. She swiped at her own eye, and sniffed back her feelings. Looking away from him, she forced a smile. “I got lost for a moment. It’s one of my favorite pieces after all.”

It was clear that Striker wasn’t buying her story. His brow remained furrowed as he watched the former siren make a poor attempt at keeping a disapproving smile upon her face. Every time she tried, it seemed to melt into melancholy. Slowly, he reached his hand out to touch hers as she was gazing at the floor. When she felt his fingers upon her own, she instinctively snatched her arm away.

“Don’t,” she blurted ominously, staring daggers into his eyes. There was a long beat of silence before she decided to stand.

“Excuse me a moment,” she croaked before picking up her bag, and casually walking out of the room.

In the restroom, she rubbed her temples as she leaned over the sink basin, yet again splashing water upon her face and neck. Why was it that she was beginning to memorize the decor of all of her students’ bathrooms? Why did it seem as if, gradually, she was losing her fortitude to deal with these simple creatures, and their simple lives?

Sinking down to sit on the edge of the bathtub, she inwardly chastised herself for ever thinking it might be a good idea to teach Striker that piece in the first place. Those ancient thoughts, now so intertwined with her beloved concerto, came to mind once more . Then she shook her head free of them. What was done was done. What was the point of constantly despairing over that which she could not change? This question seemed to make sense; thus, it always annoyed her to acknowledge the fact that she had been asking herself the same thing for over two thousand years.

Glancing down at the bag that sat at her feet, Adagio sighed to herself as she realized that she had been neglecting that which she could possibly change long enough. She had not yet attempted to use her powers on Striker. Slowly, this understanding began to enrage her. How dare she allow herself to get lost so completely in the mortals’ silly, little world of tiny distractions to the point where she might forget her own beloved pendant? Disgusted with herself, her ire was then directed onto her seemingly irreproachable student.

That perfect little man, with his perfect little life was an offense. Why was it that someone like that got to enjoy themselves while she, someone far more beautiful, intelligent, and talented, had not been given the same opportunity? It would seem that he lived without a care in the world, and acknowledging that, she now resolved herself to trying her hardest to inject some worry into his life. No one was flawless, and if it were up to her, no one would live without experiencing deep regret or pain. Life was full of the stuff, and to somehow make it through unscathed seemed unnatural, reprehensible. She couldn’t fathom how, earlier, she had managed to feel anything resembling remorse about bringing chaos into his home.

Reaching into her bag, she pulled out the wooden box, cracked it open to ensure the safety of the shards, and then slammed it back shut. She stood, gathered the rest of her things, and exited the bathroom confidently. Her drive was restored, her anger renewed. She swore to the universe that if any powers remained inside of her, she would find a way to get to Striker.

Upon entering his studio, she found him absent-mindedly tapping at the keyboard, looking rather dejected. Knocking against the wall, she waited until he turned to look at her before she placed her hand on her hip. A devious smile grew upon her face.

“Enough of all this sad stuff. Why don’t we try something loud and fast, hm?”

She couldn’t help but laugh when she noticed Striker gulp down a lump caught in his throat.

___

The bus ride home was far more productive that day if she did say so herself. Adagio sat mulling over her notes of lyrics, records, and trial reactions, lost in such a haze of meditation and paper that she never even noticed her usual bus companion, Sunset Shimmer, gazing intensely upon her from across the aisle. There were far more pressing matters to attend to besides what sour expression “ol’ bacon-hair” was giving her today. For instance, there was the business of her trials with Striker which had proved to be quite fruitful.

Upon her return to the studio, she had broken out a new piece of music for him to pour over whilst she sang her “incantations”. The piece was quite loud, ensuring that she was less likely to be heard from where she decided to stand in the corner. She used the excuse that she did not want him to get used to her babying him during every lesson as the reason why she had decided to linger a ways back. Thinking nothing of this, Striker had begun to play.

At first, she had gotten the same disappointing results as she did with Brownie when she realized that, perhaps, the incantations did not work because they weren’t being heard. Thus, despite the ragged state of her voice, she resolved herself to singing in front of Striker in hopes that something might happen. Shooing him out of the way, as usual, she took her seat, and sang her odd song, disguising it as a piece she planned to have him learn later on; however, this only resulted in even more nervous and confused stares, not to mention inquiries as to whether she had begun taking some new form of medication. It was frustrating. It was humiliating. She thought she could endure rejection, but then she remembered that she’d never before been rejected for her music.

She had turned upon him, inquiring as to whether or not he had been feeling any strange sensations, or whether any random urges had entered his mind at all. He had denied it, edging away from her uneasily. The urge to throttle him became nearly unbearable. How could he not have felt anything? The bond was still intact, the wellspring still unbroken!

It was then that she had noticed herself beginning to sweat, her heartbeat beginning to race. Adagio felt like she had gouged herself in the chest all over again. Rarely had she ever felt anything resembling desperation or panic, but the constant reminder that she had little to no control over what was happening to her, little to no say about the way her world might turn, seemed to batter her worse than any physical blow she’d ever received. Feeling her face growing hot, she approached him.

“You’re either lying or don’t know what you’re talking about,” she began in a low murmur, pointing an accusing finger in his direction. Striker held his hands up in defense.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied trying to keep the calm in his voice.

“I’ve been singing, albeit poorly, but still it doesn’t have any effect? How can that be? That’s impossible. My music has never been rejected,” Adagio continued, not realizing that she had absent-mindedly made a rhyme. “Striker, come on. You have to understand… You have to feel...

This is what I need. This is the only thing left,
That can prove to me that my bond is still r—”

She gasped, and clasped her mouth shut with her hand, realizing what had just happened. Staring into Striker’s eyes, she saw nothing but the same confusion and fear as before, but in that single, spectacular moment, it no longer mattered. She watched as he silently edged toward the studio door, and opened it, a stern look gathering about his green eyes.

“Adagio, I think it’s best if we end it here today. I think you need to go home, and rest.”

She hadn’t remembered how she’d managed to get outside without forgetting all of her belongings. She did remember throwing up in the bushes on Striker’s front lawn before ambling her way toward the bus stop. It was there that the wellspring of ideas began to pour out of her. She was quick to pull out a pen, and let them all fall upon paper.

Perhaps it was the feeling of fear or desperation that had influenced her. Maybe the musical inspiration would only come when it was in her own defense. Or maybe, her powers were just weakened, and needed a bit of help, something to open the emotions. Alcohol perhaps? No, that didn’t seem like a sustainable concept at all. Perhaps more than one voice was now necessary for the incantations to actually prove useful. Should she pose these ideas to Sonata and Aria? Immediately, she decided against it. Such presuppositions were sure to ignite anger and confusion from her sistren unless she could prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that their powers were, in fact, still functioning. As much as she wanted to tell her companions about what had happened, even she knew that action with no result was useless no matter which part of the multiverse they existed in.

Lost so deeply in her work, Adagio didn’t catch Sunset Shimmer finally getting to her feet, and casually walking over to seat herself behind her to get a better look at what she had been doing. Had she not heard one of the buckles on the girl’s leather jacket click against the chair, she would have never even noticed. Her eyes going wide at the sound, she quickly covered all of her papers over with notation booklets, and spun around to glare directly into the fiery-haired girl’s eyes. Sunset only seemed fazed for a split second before her moxie returned. She settled into her seat, arms crossed defiantly.

There was a brief pause as they both lingered on the fact that they had not spoken to one another for months, not since the Battle of the Bands. The last time they talked, Adagio had been a different, less desperate, more confident siren. She still had her powers, and at least an inkling of respect from her compatriots. Today, she had little to none of those, and it was Sunset Shimmer who was the one to be blamed for ending a two millennia-long legacy. Adagio’s mouth gawked open, and closed repeatedly as her eyes scanned the girl, trying to decide exactly what her first words to her should be. Her face settled into a resolved grimace.

“I’ve lost my ability to draw attention from you mortals, and yet your obsession with me somehow increases. I must be the luckiest girl in the world,” Adagio murmured, sarcasm leaking from her voice. Turning back around, she began to put her papers away. Sunset remained unmoved. The scrutinizing look she was giving the former siren never eased up.

“You know me,” Sunset began. “Whatever grabs your interest, grabs my suspicion. What is it that’s got you so distracted there, anyway?”

“I’m sorry,” Adagio said with a covert roll of her eyes, “I must have missed the part about oweing you explanations.”

“That’s fine. I’ve got time to kill,” Sunset replied, purposely leaning forward onto Adagio’s seat, and resting her head upon her folded arms.

Adagio resisted letting out an audible growl. Clearly, the girl was trying to get under her skin. Regaining composure, she spun around, and brought her face close to Sunset’s. That sly, signature smile was plastered upon her face.

“You sure you want to be seen with me like this? People will talk you know. They might think we’re a secret item.”

“I thought you knew all about me,” Sunset retorted with a snort. “If you did, you’d know that I never cared much about what others said about me.”

“Good. Then you won’t mind this: Keep your tacky jacket, and your expired hair out of my personal affairs, and we’ll get along just swimmingly. Got it?”

Adagio climbed up onto her knees in her seat, edging toward the amber-skinned girl. Sunset, not being one to take threats lying down, leaned in some more as well.

“Or else you’ll do what? Oh, wait, that’s right. You can’t do much of anything anymore, can you?”

Adagio visibly faltered for only a moment, but long enough for Sunset to take notice. Detecting an aura of sadness surrounding the former siren, she could not help but feel a little guilty. Adagio didn’t bother to respond at this point. Her gaze fell toward the floor, and she turned around in her seat to sit quietly. Sunset wrestled with herself over what she should say next in order to make things right. Realizing that nothing she said would be able to do such a thing, she resolved herself to sticking to the point.

“Look, I… I’m just making sure you’re not up to no good. I’m not going to sit here, and pretend like I don’t know what you were capable of in the past. We’re both Equestrian. We both know the stories. I can’t allow anything like that, or what you pulled at the Battle, to happen again,” she said, accepting the fact that there was no way this conversation could be anything but uncomfortable.

“Why? Because you’ve sold yourself the lie that you’re now a good person, and that people actually accept you? Please, Sunset Shimmer. You and I both know that bad memories are hard pressed to fade, and old habits die hard. I wonder how sparkly your reputation is back in good, old Equestria.” A glimmer of amusement had entered Adagio’s voice as she said this.

Sunset felt her muscles stiffening with anger. Choosing to take the higher road, she took a deep, calming breath, and regained her composure. Her words now came slowly and carefully in an attempt to not inspire more impatience within either of them.

“No, that’s not it. I just wanted to make sure that—”

“So, you’ve made sure! Now, go away,” Adagio spat. There was a pause. She didn’t bother to begin packing her papers away again until she heard the sounds of Sunset reluctantly getting up, and moving back across the aisle to her original seat. Then, turning to face the window, the former siren sighed to herself whilst lamenting her currently obliterated vigor for her secret project. It was even more annoying that it had been Sunset who, once again, had found a way to ruin things for her. Even now, she could feel the girl’s gaze still burning into the side of her face. There was no way that she could continue her work under this nosey wretch's watch. Perhaps her evening spent at home would not be as bad as it had been the night before.

___

Aria sat on the recliner, rolling a toothpick around in her mouth as she flipped through the channels on the T.V. The sound of screaming and chainsaws filled the living room as she found what she had been looking for. Fortunately for her, her horror movie marathon had not yet ended. Yet, despite her delight at the sight of some good, old fashioned, grindhouse gore, her eyes couldn’t help but occasionally dart upward toward the kitchen where Sonata was now fixing dinner. The younger girl had remained in her state of deep introspection ever since their encounter with Patti Mint earlier on. Usually, something like this would not be enough to draw any of Aria’s attention, except for the fact that, right now, Sonata was cooking food that they would all have to eat. From where Aria was sitting, the combination of all of these factors made for quite a harrowing viewer experience, enough to draw her away from the blood and guts currently on the tube.

As she watched each time Sonata reached into a nearby cupboard to grab something in a bottle, Aria worked out in her mind whether or not that particular ingredient made sense with the others she was using.

Salt and garlic powder. Harmless, enough.

The powders disappeared over the edge of a large, bubbling pot that sat on the stove. Expectedly, the blue girl reached into the cupboard once again.

Cayenne and… cinnamon? Well, cinnamon can be savory I suppose. Geez, not so much, you idiot!

Aria bit down hard upon the edge of the toothpick, nearly breaking it. Her hands gripped the rests on the recliner. She watched in dread as Sonata reached up one more time into the cupboard, and nearly choked when she saw the girl absent-mindedly pull down a bottle of chocolate syrup. Popping it open, she moved to turn it over the boiling pot before Aria bolted upward, and raced toward the kitchen to stop her.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she yelled, putting herself between Sonata and the pot. The younger girl looked at her in confusion.

“What do you mean? I’m making chicken and dumpling soup,” Sonata answered plainly.

“With chocolate syrup?” Aria asked, pointing to the bottle in her hand. Sonata glanced at the thing, and then proceeded to laugh bashfully.

“Oh! How did that get in my hand? Could have sworn it was honey.”

“Honey?” Aria croaked. “Why the— You know what? Nevermind.”

The dour-faced girl stared into the bubbling pot just to make sure that the current ingredients looked acceptable. Breathing a sigh of relief, she turned to give her sister a questioning look.

“No, actually, I do want to know. Why do you need the honey?”

“I was trying to thicken it up. I’m so used to brothy soups. That’s the only kind I’ve ever made. There was this guy on T.V. who made his thick with something, but I can’t remember what. I was thinking maybe I should try it so it will last longer,” the younger girl blabbed on, squirting a bit of chocolate syrup onto the tip of her finger, and popping it into her mouth. “Mm! Good!”

Aria rolled her eyes. With a sigh, she reached upward toward her hair, pulled it back, and tied the entire thing into a long ponytail. Edging toward the cupboard Sonata was standing in front of, she used her slender hips to bump the girl out of the way.

“Beat it, sister. I’ll show you how it’s done,” she stated, then reaching up into the cabinet.

Taking the opportunity to turn the entire chocolate syrup bottle over into her mouth, Sonata quickly gulped the sweet, sticky liquid down, wiped her lips with the back of her hand, and glanced again at the older girl. Aria was now standing before her holding a large, white paper sack in one hand, and two, small, golden cubes in the other.

“Flour and bouillon—your two best friends,” Aria stated matter-of-factly as she turned, plopped the two cubes into the enormous pot, and then yanked open the sack of flour. Leaning against the counter with her hip, she unceremoniously tipped the sack over the pot, and began to sprinkle it in. The intrigued smile on Sonata’s face slowly melted into one of apprehension as she stared at the amount of flour Aria was adding. The elder girl, who had been boredly gazing into a corner, caught Sonata’s eye, and shrugged.

“What? We didn’t have cornstarch!”

“No, that’s not it,” Sonata began cautiously. “Um, are you sure that you should be using that much?”

Aria stopped pouring, and huffed in the blue girl’s direction.

“What is the most people… or ponies, that you’ve ever cooked for at one time?” the dour girl asked her, placing a hand on her hip.

“Umm… like... fourteen?” Sonata replied, taking a moment to quickly think over the past millennia and a half.

“Right. I’ve made meals for a hundred, multiple times. We’re not exactly rich as kings here. There are tricks to this sort of thing,” Aria quipped turning her attention back to the pot, and beginning to sprinkle the flour again. Sonata giggled.

“I keep forgetting that you were a lunch pegasus once. I still can’t imagine it,” she murmured, being careful not to delve too deeply into stories about the girl’s roots. Aria grimaced.

“I was not a lunch pegasus,” she growled, finally folding over the flap of the flour sack. “I was a frikkin scullery pegasus.”

Pushing past Sonata again, whilst taking a moment to snatch the chocolate syrup out of the girl’s hands, she placed both items back into the cupboard, and closed it shut.

“Stir it around, cover the lid, and let it boil for ten minutes,” she commanded whilst heading back toward the living room to catch the rest of her movies. “And how about saving your spaciness for your own time, okay?”

By the time Adagio walked through the door looking rather grim and pensive, Sonata had already set the table for Aria and herself. When she spotted the expression on the curly-haired girl’s face, the youngest siren figured it wise not to speak for fear of being reprimanded. Her eyes darted toward Aria whose entire being had grown dark and indignant at the very sight of the eldest girl. Sonata knew then that it would be best to stifle herself from addressing either of them. The feeling of nervousness that descended upon her made her reaction quick and instinctive; the relieving visage of Patti Mint’s face popped into her mind’s eye once again. Soon enough, even she was brooding.

As Aria watched Adagio remove her sweater and purse, hanging one up, and plopping the other onto the floor, she rolled her eyes in disdain. She had been hoping to quickly eat her dinner while finishing her movie, and then disappear upstairs before the eldest girl ever arrived. Aria grimaced as she acknowledged the fact that her plan was now shot, as was her current mood. Having made a habit of mentally deleting herself from situations she had little patience for, she silently got up off of the recliner, strolled over toward the table, took her seat, and began to eat.

After Sonata had whipped up a bowl of soup for Adagio, and placed it at her spot on the table, she took her own seat, and waited for the eldest girl to sit down. Looking into her lap, she began to peel sticky bits of flour from off of her fingers as her mind continued to wander.

Adagio, not in the mood to tolerate the loud sounds of screams and knife stabbing blaring from the television, didn’t think twice about walking over to turn the thing off. She never noticed Aria bearing down, gripping her spoon tightly with rage, still too spiteful to say even a word to her. Turning about, the eldest girl then walked toward the table, looked at the two moping girls, and figured that it was her own presence that was causing the trouble. Resentfully, she thought to pick up her bowl, and head upstairs if that would be sure to end the silent crisis, but at the last minute she decided against it. Why should she let anyone make her feel self conscious for simply existing? After all, none of them were perfect, either.

Clearing her throat, and slowly taking her seat, Adagio picked up her spoon, resigning herself to also eating in silence. As each of the girls looked about the table, unwilling or unable to talk, the events of their day replayed themselves over in their minds. Gradually, something akin to shame descended upon them all as they each came to the realization that their own pride had made it easy to speak with everyone and anyone else, even sworn enemies; however, it had rendered it nearly impossible for them to say a word to the ones they knew best, the ones who needed to hear their voices the most—each other. Now, sitting so close to one another, the three former sirens, eternal sisters bonded by seas, strife, and song, had never been more aware of how very distant and alone they had become.

A Shadowy Place

Three pairs of eyes bore into each other.

In an instant, a powerful beam of berry red-hued magic had blasted through the window, burning so brightly that, for a moment, Sonata found herself blinded. When her vision returned, the frame lay empty, its wood sparking red. Feeling something tugging at her tail, the earth mare spun about to find Lady Adagio pulling her toward the main room with her magic.

"Come on, little imp!" she cried. "It's time to leave!"

"But... where did she go?" Sonata breathed, more interested in the current whereabouts of their pursuer. One angry glare from the Lady set her priorities straight, and at once, she turned to follow.

In the blink of an eye, something white, silent, and blindingly fast zipped straight down from above the Lady. Four ivory hooves careened into her back, and the yellow mare went crumpling to the ground with a single shriek of pain. As Sonata raced to where Echo Hum was now looming over the Duchess, the white pegasus spun about, and with one, swift wing, lashed the mare repeatedly until she fell backward onto the ground, shivering.

"Don't test me you lying, filthy dirt-dweller," Echo hissed, using her extended wing to motion toward the reeling earth mare. "I am running on very little sleep and a lack of patience at the moment."

As her vision cleared, Sonata could see Echo again approaching the Duchess where she lay before the fireplace in a heap of fine velvet. Both mares seemed haloed in the red glow emitted from the hearth's embers.

"Really, Mare Goldenstalks?" Echo snarled, her attentions now set fully upon her target. "Is this where I shall have to inform the Duke that I found you? In this hovel?"

Echo reached down into the satchel at her side, and pulled out what appeared to be a large, thick ring. It gleamed in the moonlight as she edged closer to the dazed Duchess, and with one decisive push, shoved the thing down firmly upon her horn.

"That should take care of that," the white mare sighed once the deed had been done. She reached again to her side for some rope.

As Sonata watched this entire sequence of events take place, a myriad of emotions befell her. Terror was the first, naturally. They had been found out, and now everypony, the Duke included, would know that she was a traitor. The only thing she could now imagine awaiting her in the very near future was an executioner.

Guilt soon followed. Surely, shame would come upon her family because of what she had done; the livelihoods of everypony she had ever called friend was at risk as far as she was concerned. For, who would want to do business with the friend of a traitor? Sonata's mind planted itself firmly upon the thought of Begonia and her foals. If something were to happen to her or her children simply because they were friends, she didn't suppose she could ever find a way to live with herself.

Finally, there came anger, with herself for being so silly as to have ever trusted Echo Hum and Silent Wing's motives in the first place, and with the two pegasi for turning their vicious attentions onto her closest friend in return for just a few gold bits. She was equally incensed by the fact that never before had she seen Echo Hum look as gleeful as she appeared to be right at that very moment whilst gazing upon the injured Duchess. The earth mare's raspberry gaze sharpened and went hot like fire. Her hooves shook as she rose, but not from fear or weakness.

Across the way, the Duchess seemed to be coming to. Echo had already planted a firm hoof upon the mare’s back to keep her still whilst she used her teeth to bind her hind hooves with the rope.

"Get your vile hooves off of me, you wretched, winged bitch," the Lady slurred, attempting to raise up off of the floor. Echo merely hummed through her teeth with amusement, and forced the unicorn back down. She gave the end of the rope a tug, drawing a heave of pain out the Duchess.

"Why, thank you, mare," the pegasus murmured in that cold, near monotone of hers. "That's the sweetest thing I've been called all week."

"That's 'Your Grace' to you," the Duchess spat, now stable enough to lift her head. She tried to let loose a beam of magic, only to receive a shock from her backfiring powers in return. Traces of the misfired spell sparked around her face, making her head reel.

Seeing her defiance, Echo's expression darkened. She shoved the unicorn's head back flat against the floor, and leaned in close.

"I wouldn't try that again if I were you. You're liable to make your head explode."

"I command you to—" the Lady growled, only to be cut short by the white mare’s biting laughter ringing off of the walls.

"I hold no allegiance to you," she cackled, "or your little king." Quickly, she began to wrap the rope taut around the rest of the Duchess' hind legs. "Make no mistake, had your husband—dashing personality by the way—not promised a hefty sum for your safe return, you, My Lady, would now be very much dead."

"W-what of the white stallion?" Lady Adagio gasped, now looking quite sick to her stomach. Echo only smiled in return whilst knotting the rope. This, of course, worked to unnerve both Sonata and the Lady a great deal more.

"Please, tell me! What of the white stallion?" she cried again, her wavering tone betraying her desperation.

Looking at the Duchess lying helpless and distraught, Sonata felt her emotions now overpowering her. She bore down, digging her hooves into the flooring just as if she were pulling more roots from the earth.

"Ah, yes, Sir Lighthoof," Echo finally sighed. "Fear not for your beloved. I'm sure Silent Wing is taking very good care of him as we speak. The Duke has requested that we deliver the earth stallion safely unto him as well, so that he might dispense upon him his own form of justice."

She sighed longingly.

"I'm almost disappointed that I won't be around to witness it."

Echo shot a taunting smile at the Lady. Her grin quickly faded when she noticed that the mare’s expression had collapsed into one of hopeless anguish. The pegasus cocked a brow.

"Oh, come now, mare. You'd probably do well to forget him. Things didn't resolve very smoothly with your previous beloved, now did it? A bit of a messy thing love is, wouldn't you agree? I myself have never been very particular to it. Like to keep my wings free of all that unnecessary emotional baggage, you see." The white pegasus grinned, fluttering her wings against Lady Adagio's nose as she rounded about to her front.

"Out of my face, you gloomy wench! You reek of misery," the Lady whimpered, trying her best to cut into the pegasus' cold heart to no avail. "Is this what invigors you? Ruining lives? Is this what gives you meaning and purpose? How very sad that is, indeed!"

"Ohhh," Echo cooed, reaching under the Duchess' chin with the tip of her wing, and raising it to look into her eyes. "Such self righteous things for a sullied, undignified mare to say after she has already ruined three lives all on her own."

The pegasus then dropped the Lady’s head back onto the floor, pulled a second rope from her side, and prepared to wrap it around her top half.

"Oh, yes, I've heard all about you, Lady Adagio, and all of your little... preoccupations. You're quite the popular one with ambitious stallions, aren't you?" she scoffed, caring not about the fresh tears beginning to streak the Lady’s infuriated face. "But, I'm sure if I went about presenting my croup to everything with four legs and a piston, I'd be quite popular as well, wouldn’t you ag—?"

There was a sickening crunch as a pair of hooves met with Echo's side, sending her flying into a far wall. Sonata shook out her two hind legs as she watched the stunned, white mare slide down onto a pile of dust and cracked brick. Lady Adagio gazed up toward Sonata in shock. Quickly, catching her wits, she took the opportunity to reach down, and begin unraveling her bindings.

"Don't you talk about Our Lady that way! She is the finest, most honorable Lady in all of the land, she is!" Sonata screamed.

"That's enough, Sonata," the Duchess hissed. "Let's g—"

"Come again, ye overgrown turkey!" the blue mare continued, rearing up to jab at the air with her forelegs. "I'll slug you in the gut so good you'll lay a hardboiled egg!"

She watched on as Echo shakily got to her hooves. The Duchess had already begun to pull anxiously at Sonata's tail with her teeth.

"Sonata, now is not the ti—"

"Oh, come on! With those hollow birdie bones? She can't hurt me!" the earth mare bellowed until, at last, she witnessed Echo Hum's vision clear, and her expression darken into one of pure fury. Reaching to her side, the pegasus drew something sharp and shiny from its sheath. Lifting her dominant hoof, it took all of one second for her to bind and strap the curved blade tightly around the appendage with her teeth. It was at once clear that she had done this a million times before. Bearing down, the pegasus flared her wings, and presented the readied dagger to them both.

"I should have known a traitor would act as a traitor, even if it is only a silly, little farmer’s daughter,” Echo growled. “You, earth mare, there is no reward for. I think I shall deal with you first."

Now seeing the dagger clearly in the moonlight, Sonata gulped down her failed courage, and took a few steps backward toward the doorway.

"Time to leave!" she cried, yanking Lady Adagio by the tail, and urging her into the main room.

Once there, the Duchess directed Sonata toward the ring upon her horn.

"Take it off! Quickly! I can't touch it myself!" she cried as they both watched Echo racing through the doorway. Sonata lunged forward, and grabbed the thing with her teeth. As she began to draw the ring off, a shock shook her so forcefully that her eyes began to water. Time stretched as the pain spread to every muscle, yet still, the ring seemed to move at an unbearably slow pace. By the time it had budged but an inch, Echo had careened into Sonata's side, slashing at her skillfully with her blade.

Sonata missed the first three strikes by pure luck. The fourth struck her upon her flank, almost making her legs falter. Bowing over, the blue mare put her weight upon her front hooves, and swung her hind legs around in Echo's direction. The pegasus, proving far too swift to be caught in such a way whilst guarded, edged backward, and spread her wings wide. She brought the great things forward, clapping them together with such force that the sound they made was like the crack of thunder. Sonata, stunned by the blast, was blown back against the wall so hard, that a few of her paintings came loose, and went sailing across the room.

"That humbled you a bit, didn't it?" Echo cackled, her silver eyes gleaming with bloodlust. Sweeping her wings back, she then used them to propel herself toward the dazed, blue mare, her dagger aimed directly for her heart. It was all Sonata could manage to squeeze her eyes shut and hunker down.

There was the sound of rushing hoofsteps, and then a forced exhalation of air. A loud 'THUD' reverberated somewhere beyond the blackness of Sonata's clenched eyes. When they finally opened, she was met with a shocking sight. There Echo Hum hung, pinned and writhing against the far wall upon the end of Lady Adagio's horn. Sonata had to admit that the thing looked far more menacing when it was covered in blood, jutting clear through the base of a pegasus' wing. Echo screeched as the Lady wrenched her neck sideways, sending the mercenary mare crashing down to the floor in a shivering, feathery heap.

"It is also a horn, you know, you stupid harpy!" the noble mare cried, then taking her chance to dash to Sonata's side. On the way, she bent down to snatch up her cloak which lay in a heap in the middle of the room.

"Your Grace—" Sonata gasped.

"Get it off!" the Lady interjected, jutting the still ringed, now bloodied horn into Sonata's face. Not taking a moment more to reconsider, she reached forward, bit down upon the ring, and pulled with all of her might. Her brain screamed. Her skin burned. Her eyes felt as if they would melt right out of their sockets, and then finally, after what seemed like a thousand years, the deceptively innocent-looking bit of enchanted lead went clattering down onto the floor.

"Right!" the Duchess cried as they both watched Echo Hum getting to her hooves once more. Her once pristine white fur was now smudged with red, a factor that seemed to enrage her.

As the pegasus dashed toward them, a spray of bloodied feathers in her wake, Sonata could see the Duchess' berry red magic beginning to glow intensely. Her expression folded into one of deep concentration.

"Hold onto me!" the Lady cried. Sonata leapt forward, hooves outstretched. The image of the golden mare seemed to flicker before her as if she were becoming translucent. As her hooves grazed against her fur, there was a sudden flash. Sonata's eyes were blinded again, and her body felt as if it was floating away. This sensation only lasted briefly, however, before she felt herself beginning to fall.

She landed hard against something soft, and at once, it let out a great puff of air. In the brief moment before her eyes fluttered open, Sonata could only sense darkness around her. When she finally rose up and looked about, there was nothing but quiet and woodland surrounding her. Instantly, she fell into a panic.

“Lady Adagio?” she hissed. “My Lady, Adagio! Where are you! Please, answer me!”

Her cries became more and more desperate as she turned about on top of the soft mound until, finally, the thing beneath her hooves groaned. Sonata yelped, and froze in place. Glaring down at her hooves, she noticed the mound was made of something black and fuzzy.

“Gerroffof me, you idiot,” the lump croaked. Sonata leapt back, landing hard upon her injured side. As she scrambled away from the thing, the black fuzz atop the giant bulk shifted, and finally slid off to reveal Lady Adagio looking thoroughly tattered and worn. Her face was smudged with dirt, and her robe had been torn. Those usually perfect curls were now a mess of frazzled coils. Still, Sonata was overjoyed to see that she was safe. Lunging forward, forelegs outstretched, she gathered the elder mare into an embrace.

“Your Grace! Are you alright? Where are we? What happened?” she cried. After a moment of not hearing a response, the earth mare glanced upon the Duchess' face to find that it had gone a tinge of purple. She released her grip, giggling bashfully. “Oh, dear. My apologies.”

The Lady gasped greedily for fresh air as she held Sonata away at foreleg’s length.

“Do not... ever… do that… again,” she rasped, then collapsing onto the ground. “And keep quiet, will you? I could only manage to transport us to the edge of the Sardhoof. We’re still quite near your farm.”

She directed a hoof toward the nearby treeline in the distance, urging Sonata to take a look for herself. When she peered through the brush, the earth mare could see her cottage, a small bump upon a hill. Coming from that direction, they could both discern the enraged screams of Echo Hum, and the distinct sounds of breaking furniture. Sonata’s jaw dropped.

“My home! She’s wrecking it!”

Instinctively, she moved forward in the cottage’s direction, only to find herself hindered by Lady Adagio’s hoof shoving her back into a seated position.

“Are you completely daft? You cannot return now; you shall be caught! We must find Lighthoof!”

Sonata, knowing in her heart that the Lady was right, gulped back her own seemingly selfish worries, and nodded her head.

“Let’s hurry, then.”

___

In the darkness, surrounded by nothing but the evening sounds of Sardhoof Forest, it was quite difficult to decipher exactly how much time was passing them by. Still, deeper into the woods they went. At first they kept silent, the heat of their encounter with Echo still clinging to their memories. However, after a long time had passed with bloodthirsty pegasi nowhere in sight, they finally managed to relax into something of a casual conversation. This mostly consisted of Sonata riddling the Duchess with nosey questions, much to the noble unicorn's dismay.

"Does your mane really grow that way?"

"Yes."

"Goodness... Does your sister, Lady Moonstone, really joust in the Canterlotian annual tournaments?"

"On occasion, yes."

"Amazing... Who's the better kisser? Prance or—"

"Enough!" Lady Adagio cried, silencing the evening sounds around her. She turned upon Sonata with a dangerous look in her eye. "Listen, impy. It's maddening enough that I should have to tramp through the Sardhoof in my good robes; I don't need to feel as if I'm doing it under interrogation as well! Leave me be!"

This immediately hushed Sonata, and they both managed to travel for quite a while longer in near silence. This didn't seem too terrible if one could, for instance, take notice of the beauty of the evening woods along the way. Though not entirely familiar with the part of the forests they had been walking through, Sonata still had some semblance of their whereabouts, and at least could pride herself on being acclimated to such an environment. The Duchess, on the other hoof, seemed to have her heart set on grumbling under her breath for the entire trek.

“My poor robe,” the tuckered unicorn lamented. “This one was my most cherished.”

Not watching where she was going, the noble mare took what she thought was just another step forward, and suddenly sank shoulder deep into a sizeable puddle of mud.

“No!” she moaned, pulling her foreleg out, and dramatically flinging herself onto her back. Flaring her magic, she attempted to clean the filthy appendage now covered in all manners of muck. Sonata, who had managed to make it past the mudpit unscathed, turned around, and gazed curiously upon the unicorn.

“You’ve never really traveled the woods by hoof before, have you?” she inquired, taking a step closer. Lady Adagio turned her head to stare coldly at the earth mare. In this position, her tattered robe, frizzed hair, muddied fur, and bloodied horn seemed more glaring than they had at any point prior.

“What on earth could possibly inspire a question like that?” she deadpanned before a large lump of mud slogged off of her hoof, and landed squarely in her face.

Sonata giggled. Shaking her head, she trotted to the Duchess' side, and pulled her up to her hooves. Removing the old handkerchief from about her own neck, she then got to work scraping the mud from the unicorn's fine, yellow fur.

“Ah! Not so hard, you wretch!” the Lady whined, reaching forward to thump Sonata on the top of her head when the earth mare scrubbed at her cheek too roughly.

Rubbing the now sore spot atop her scalp, Sonata noticed the Duchess’ eyes suddenly go wide. The older mare's gaze directed itself toward her chest, and when Sonata looked down, she realized that the Lady had been staring at her ghastly birthmark. Letting loose a gasp, she bent forward to hide it.

“I know it’s hideous. That’s why I wear this—”

“That is the spitting image of my birthmark!” Lady Adagio gasped, quickly pulling down the collar of her distressed robe so that Sonata might see.

The earth mare's eyes went wide. She dashed toward Lady Adagio, squealing, and reaching forward to bite hold of her collar to get a closer look.

“No, no! Wait!” the Duchess protested, but far too late. Sonata, in her excitement, pulled down upon the delicate fabric, accidentally ripping the entire thing right down the center of the Lady’s back. The poor, abused robe slipped clean off of the yellow mare’s body, and finally fell in two expired lumps to either side of her. Lady Adagio sighed heavily.

“Well, I suppose that would be the end of that."

“Srry,” Sonata apologized, spitting out the clump of velvet between her teeth. "Got a bit excited."

“Oh, no, no, it’s perfectly fine!” the older mare chirped, cocking a brow. “If fate is kind, perhaps my head shall be next.”

“You mustn't say such things, Your Grace!” Sonata cried. “What would everypony do if something were to happen to you?”

Lady Adagio blinked, looking quite stunned, almost thoughtful.

"I'm sure I wouldn't know. Live happily ever after, perhaps?" she muttered, shrugging to herself.

"That isn't true, and you know it," Sonata retorted with a stomp of her hoof.

Sonata saw something indecipherable flash in the other mare's eyes before she turned her head away, hiding her face behind a tangle of orange curls.

“Yes, well. I suppose we had better continue on then,” the Duchess mumbled. “The sooner we find Lighthoof is the sooner I can get this filth cleaned off of me.”

Sonata watched as the unicorn picked up her black cloak, flung it over her back, and headed further off into the woods. Thinking to herself for a moment, a brilliant idea then struck her.

“I know where you can wash up!” Sonata cried, drawing another hushing hiss from her companion.

“Where?” Lady Adagio inquired.

“There’s a spring in these woods. I suspect I’m the only one who has ever managed to find it, so you’d have your privacy as well! Would you like to go?”

The yellow mare seemed to think for just a moment before she nodded her head.

“The Sardhoof is endless. Searching for Lighthoof wherever this spring is would be just as good as searching anywhere else. Might as well afford myself the opportunity to wash off whilst we look.”

Sonata smiled, and rushed forward to take the lead.

Of course it took all of one hour not only for both of them to get lost on this trek—Sonata having realized she'd never before made it in the dark—but for the two of them to also become separated. The earth mare spent all of her time alone, worriedly calling out the Duchess’ name, and watching the canopy for any signs of angry pegasi. The Lady's wanderings proved far more productive, however. Not only did she eventually come rushing back through the trees toward Sonata looking quite clean, but miraculously, she had also managed to find Prance. The white stallion trotted close behind her, and as he neared, Sonata could make out haphazardly wrapped bandages bound around his barrel and right shoulder. There was a slight tinge of purple that encircled his left eye.

Upon seeing that neither of them had been too severely harmed, Sonata rushed forward to embrace Prance. Wincing away his pains, the stallion began to laugh. The sound of it worked to calm her nerves, be it ever so slightly.

"Prance! You're alright! I'm so happy to see you! Did Silent Wing find you?"

"Clearly," the stallion coughed, rolling his eyes. He then returned the mare's embrace. "It's a relief to see that you are well. We were worried that Echo Hum might have found you."

"Oh, you don't have to worry about me, Prance! Didn't the Lady tell you how I struck that giant yard fowl a good one?"

"No, she didn't!" Prance guffawed, his eyes going wide. "Tell me quickly, what sort of face did she make?"

"It looked like this!" Sonata laughed, then twisting her features into a comical grimace. Prance bent over chortling, again pulling the mare close.

"I know that right hind hoof of yours all too well! I could have warned that flying hag all about it!"

Sonata didn't seem to care for anything else but the happiness she was feeling at the moment, gathered up gleefully in Prance's embrace. In fact, she didn't think she might ever let him go if she hadn't felt Lady Adagio's hoof suddenly come between them, prying them apart.

"That will be quite enough of that, thank you very much!" the yellow mare clucked, pursing her lips.

"Oh, My Lady, would you like one as well?" Sonata asked, deeming herself quite rude for ignoring the unicorn. She was a lady used to having quite a bit of attention, after all. However, upon approaching her, Sonata instantly found herself again being held at foreleg's length, a yellow hoof planted firmly against her forehead.

"What have I told you about doing that?" the Lady grumbled, pushing her away.

"Oh, yes," Sonata giggled. "Pardon me. I forgot."

"Leave her be, Adagio. She's only being affectionate," Prance chided her.

Both mares' eyes went wide. Sonata, never having heard anypony speak to a high ranking noble in such a manner, decided it would be best to keep quiet, and stare listlessly toward the ground like the obedient commoner she was. Her ears twitched and turned downward as she figured that a good slap lay somewhere in Prance's very near future. Instead, she heard the Lady huff loudly.

"Let's get going," the Duchess grumbled, beginning to walk away. "This night is crawling with far too many pegasi. We must keep moving."

Following close behind, Sonata gazed toward Prance with a perplexed expression.

"What does she mean? Are there more mercenaries about?"

"Eh, a few," Prance chuckled with a wink. Sonata found it amazing the things the stallion could smile through. "But we didn't meet anymore of them. That isn't what she means."

"We happened upon two more near the spring you had mentioned," the Duchess added.

"Two more pegasi searching for you?" Sonata gasped.

"I don't suspect so," Prance murmured, his brow creasing. "One of them was asleep beside the water. She wasn't wearing any armor."

"Oh, what does that matter?" Lady Adagio cut in.

Prance winked in Sonata's direction, again.

"I must admit, I did find the other one a bit... unsettling."

"Why?" Sonata inquired. "Did he try to hurt you?"

"No, he simply sat there upon a stump in complete silence, watching us from the shadows. You could barely even see him," Prance replied, shaking off the chill that had now managed to collect about his fur. "At first we supposed that they had both been cut and banished, but I didn't see any wounds."

"Barbaric," the Duchess piped in. "Of course they continue to leave all of their unsavory characters down here upon the earth where we should be made to live with—"

"Their wings had not been cut," Prance insisted. "Perhaps they were just traveling through."

"I still tend to think there was something off about the stallion."

"Well, be that as it may, he helped to guide us in the proper direction," Prance quipped.

"Just barely," Lady Adagio grumbled. "What grim creatures... Straight out of Tartarus, they are..."

"That is a bit harsh, don't you think?" Prance interjected. "They are pony folk just like you and I. Many of history's finest warriors were pegasi mercenaries."

"Oh, that's all dandy until they aim their wings and daggers in your direction, isn't it, Sir Lighthoof?" the agitated unicorn spat. "Why can't I ever meet a pegasus that is a simple cook? Or a nice musician?"

"Down here, most of the demand is for their warriors, not their cooks. It does pay well."

At these words, Sonata witnessed Lady Adagio halt her steps, huff with exhaustion, and spin about to face Prance. Half gladdened that the two of them had stopped making such a ruckus, the earth mare breathed a sigh of relief.

There was a deep-set grimace now plastered upon the unicorn's face, but looking toward Prance, Sonata noticed that he did not seem to be the slightest bit worried. The sly grin he was wearing was proof of this.

"Are you really defending pegasus-kind whilst two of those flying curses are currently after our heads?" Adagio hissed, poking a hoof at Prance's chest. "I'll have you know, Lighthoof, that I did not plan to leave my estate behind, and go rolling about in the stinking Sardhoof mud just for you to defend the very villains I've been warning you about since—"

She was silenced with a kiss. Prance confidently leaned in further, pushing the yellow mare backward onto her haunches. Her forelegs rose to rest against his chest, and the frown upon her face quickly curled up into the most content of smiles.

Once again, Sonata's jaw had practically hit the ground. Her entire face went red, and after a long, long while of watching the two doing whatever it was they were currently doing with their faces, she figured that perhaps it might be best to hide herself beneath the Duchess' cloak. Clearing her throat, she clenched her eyes shut, and made an attempt to garner their attention with a wave of her tail. When that method failed, she settled for addressing them directly.

"Erm, so sorry to interrupt, but I feel I must remind you two about the flying mercenaries searching for us. Angry Duke? Pain of death? Remember?"

This seemed to do the trick. Sonata soon heard the both of them cough and sigh out their pardons. When she finally peeked at them again from beneath the cloak, they had both straightened themselves out, and already headed a few more steps forward.

Things were much calmer then. The two of them walked side by side, smiling and murmuring to one another. Sonata was content to just follow close behind as long as everything remained quiet. After a long time—she knew not how long—it came to her attention that their pace was beginning to slow significantly. It was no wonder. Their night had been filled with nothing but worry, pain, and running, after all. Even she was beginning to feel quite dizzy with fatigue.

"Perhaps we should stop," Lady Adagio posed. "I am in desperate need of some water."

"I think I spied a creek a little ways back," Sonata mentioned. "Perhaps we could—"

"You expect me to drink from the ground?" the Duchess cried, rolling her "r"s dramatically. The look upon her face was incredulous.

"Nevermind," Sonata sighed, turning about to face Prance who had gone off to rest by the foot of a large oak. "Where is it that we are headed? How much further?"

The stallion smiled, and cleared his throat.

"We're bound for Canterlot. There are enough ponies there that we should be able to hide amongst them quite easily."

"Canterlot?" Sonata gasped. Not only was the earth mare unable to fathom being in a city as large as that of the seat of the unicorn king's throne, but she also felt quite hesitant to even travel in its direction at all. "Won't we have to head north to get there? What if we are caught in the battle at Edinbridle?"

Prance scoffed.

"The conflict is no longer only confined to Edinbridle, if that is what you are concerned about." He looked at Sonata's frightened expression, and immediately felt remorse for having said such a thing to her. "We should be able to move around Vision's realm without trouble. Don't worry, Sonata. I've done it many times before."

Sonata was not quite convinced. Still, she knew that she trusted Prance, and again chose to believe that he would always have her best interest at heart.

"Well... w-when shall we return?" she inquired, her voice small and shaking. The air went quiet save for a few creaks and cracks coming from the branches above. Both Prance and the Duchess glared at one another.

"What? What is it?" Sonata asked becoming more anxious by the second.

"Sonata," Prance began gently as he took a step forward. "You see, with the way things are, the Duke will most certainly be searching for us for the rest of his days. We are wanted now. There is a bounty upon us."

"Yes, upon you two," Sonata pressed, already disliking where this conversation was headed.

"By morning, the Duke shall surely know that you were the one who aided us. Perhaps even sooner than that," Lady Adagio added.

"What we're attempting to tell you, Sonata, is that there shall be no going home. We have to leave this place... for good," the white stallion finished.

"F-f-for..." Sonata couldn't bring herself to even say it. At once reality came crashing down upon her in all of its weighted dreadfulness.

Of course.

She was an outcast now, a criminal; yet, still, she had never even considered the notion that she might actually survive being caught up in the middle of an ordeal such as this. Now that she was forced to think on it, the earth mare had to cede that being labeled as an enemy to a Duke would surely mean spending the rest of her life in hiding. This meant no more farm, no more cottage on the hill, no more singing in public anywhere, and worse yet, no more seeing any of her companions. Her mind immediately landed upon Begonia, Petunia, and Peat Moss. As soon as she envisioned their faces, large, hefty tears began to fall from her eyes. Had Sonata known whilst having pie with her dear friend that it would be the last she saw of her, she would have tried harder to remember the event a little better, play with the children for a little while longer, spend a little more time...

"Oh, no," she croaked, her eyes shutting. She felt her hind legs give way. What of her parents, her beloved little family who she would give the world for? How would it be possible to now live knowing that she could never again see them? How could they continue on comfortably if she could not help to provide for them? They would suffer because of her. It all seemed unthinkable. This wasn't something that she could simply leap and flow around like she always urged herself to do. After this, there could be nothing greater or brighter that she might hope to flow toward. A loss like this would surely kill her; and surely, all things considered, she would have preferred that it did.

"I cannot. I cannot do this," she whimpered, the tears now coming faster as her panic grew. Something hot ignited in the center of her chest, and she began to shake. How could she possibly have been so foolish? Why, in Bullion's name, was it that she had always deemed it so unnecessary to think her own decisions through to the end? This was why she was always getting into trouble. If she had only just told Prance that she couldn't possibly...

Wait a moment.

Was this all her doing? Surely, she had not the power or mettle to create such dangerous noble scandal, herself, had she?

For once in her life, Sonata pondered on what would have become of her had she the heart—or lack of it, rather—to have gone about getting what she wanted the way ponies like the Duchess did. How much easier might her life have been had she the smarts and will to make advances upon a stallion like the Duke just as the Duchess had feared? And how much colder might she have become if she did it whilst knowing that others would probably suffer because of her decision? Does a pony like that hold the capability to consider such things at all? Did this mean that the Duchess, maybe even Prance had been cold? After all, if it weren't for them, she would have probably been lying in bed right now, belly full of biscuits. Morning and the fields would await her on the other side of night whilst she remained wrapped in the peace she had only recently begun to taste for the first time in her life.

"No..." she breathed, as her mind opened up to new, less than savory possibilities that she had never before considered. Her eyes clenched tight. Prance moved forward to hold her, seeing her distress.

"Come now, Sonata. It will be alright! We will still be able to get by with—"

"Get by?" Sonata scoffed, bounding to her hooves. Her eyes were aflame in a way they'd never been before. "I've only just 'gotten by' my entire life, Prance! And now that I've finally found some small piece of stability, now that I can finally afford to breathe easily, it's all wrenched away from me forever?"

Her body began to quake.

"At least you two have known it! You two grew up with comfort, and games, and families who never—" she still didn't want to admit it, "—never tended to you harshly. You were never put to bed hungry! Smiling and skipping along in your fineries whilst your wretched parents trotted about, hitching up their noses, and spitting in my direction because I wore old rags! Calling me rubbish!”

"Sonata... what are you..." Prance murmured, quite stunned.

The blue mare forced a sharp laugh of disbelief. Her head shook as she realized that all these years had gone by without her ever having reminded Prance what his mother had said about her when she was but a starving, mute filly. She had never let on just how much his mother's cruel words had impacted her entire life, and all to spare the stallion's feelings. It struck her as quite telling that he would have forgotten that such a thing had ever even happened. Now, a seed of suspicion had begun to bud within her, and she couldn't help but wonder if a hint of that same penchant for his mother's carelessness ran through his veins as well.

She watched as both Prance and Lady Adagio’s expressions folded into ones of confusion, and for once, she didn’t care. Even she stunned herself with the spew of words that had managed to escape her mouth. Perhaps it was because it no longer mattered to her if they were baffled or offended. None of this mattered anymore.

“If you were bored, and wanted to throw every good thing you've ever known away, why should that matter to somepony like me? Why draw me into it? I didn't want to be a part of something like this!"

Sonata saw Lady Adagio's mouth turn down into a sneer. The noble mare took a step forward.

"How dare you? And after I revealed all of my heart to you? You know that every one of us is giving up our known comforts to—"

"My family and farm are my entire life, not a comfort!" Sonata barked, shocking the Duchess into a tight-lipped silence."What do you expect for me to do with you in Canterlot? Swim behind you both whilst ye ride boats across the pond? Clean up after your meals? Sit silently and obediently in the corner until beckoned? Oh, I'm sure you'd love that!"

She turned her furious glare upon Prance, once more.

"You said you were my best friend! You said that you wouldn't let harm come to me! You told me you wanted me to be happy and safe! You always say that you know what’s best, and never even consider my feelings, my past, my fears, ever since we were foals, and you told the former Lord Goldenstalks about my singing. You never even considered that the only reason I go along with everything that everypony else wishes of me is because I didn't want it coming to this. I didn't want to be thrown away again, and hated! I didn’t do any of these things because I enjoyed them!"

When Prance finally pushed forward, Sonata shoved him back.

“Don’t touch me!” she cried, retreating away from them both. “You two can do whatever it is that you wish. End up starving on the streets like I used to, for all I care. Dig through a rubbish pit for your supper, and see how good you like it! I’m not going back to that. I’d rather die! I’m going back to my farm!”

“Sonata, wait!” Prance bellowed, stunning her into stillness before she could run away.

“What is it?” the incensed earth mare pressed, completely void on patience. At once, she noticed the glint of something in those violet eyes of his. “What? Tell me, Prance?”

The white stallion sighed, and glanced backward toward Adagio who passed him yet another knowing look.

“Oh, stop it with your stupid secrets!” Sonata bellowed, pounding her hooves into the dirt. She looked impatiently from one to the other.

At once, the white stallion took a deep breath, and took a step forward.

“Sonata,” he began slowly. “Y...you have judged me as often having been careless with your heart. Indeed, I had always thought never to put it before what I saw as opportunities for your progress, for your success. I thought, in the end, that those things brought you the happiness you wanted and very much deserved. Perhaps my vision has been skewed by the ambitious life that I have led. For, it seems that I wanted and pushed you to do things that you did not always desire for yourself. I made a promise many times to protect you and your heart. It would seem that I've failed a bit in that regard, yes?"

That old, familiar smile cracked his lips. Sonata, drawn into the comfort of that grin, felt her eyes beginning to leak.

"For doing so, for hurting you in these ways... in this way, I am truly sorry, my friend. Looking upon it all, I don’t suppose that it should be possible to forgive me for what I've done wrong. But for all that you deem that I have done right, could you find it in yourself to hear me this one, last time?"

There was a pause. His voice began to tremble as he took in a ragged breath.

"Right now, Sonata, you must trust me. There is no going back to your farm. To do so spells certain doom. Canterlot is our only option now.”

Sonata sniffed, her gaze falling toward the ground. Prance always did have a way with words. He always knew how to sway her, even when it was unintentional. This was the part where she was supposed to nod her head, turn around, and follow him obediently. This was the moment when she was supposed to convince herself that her own ideas weren't good enough, that she wasn't good enough all on her own.

Her mouth slowly opened as she fought with herself over what to say. Words, most hated and cruel, formed upon her tongue. Everything in her wanted very much to force them back, but for once she decided to put those feelings of guilt and shame to the side.

“Have you finished?” she exhaled, sounding very much as if she had not wanted to say it. Her eyes were tearing freely now as she turned about, much in the same way she had done when Prance and she were sitting under their favorite oak. Shakily, she took a step, then another until she began to make headway on her trek back home.

“Sonata, what are you doing?” Prance gasped, running up to tail behind her.

“For once, I’m doing what I choose," she quavered, her voice coming a bit more confidently. "I’d rather return to take my chances begging for the Duke's mercy than to leave my life behind. My cottage awaits. Even one small moment's peace before I head to Goldenstalks manor should be enough for me.”

“I told you, you cannot,” Prance urged, his voice now low, nearly threatening.

“And I’m telling you, it no longer matters what you say!” She reeled about, her raspberry eyes boring into him until it was clear that she was understood. "You two had better leave."

Sonata turned again, and quickened her pace, intent on losing the stallion. In his desperation, Prance shook his head, and planted his hooves firmly in the soil.

“It’s gone!” he cried. The words echoed throughout the night, silencing the sounds of the evening into stillness. Sonata froze in her steps, and slowly turned about. An expression bordering on hysterical had already begun to spread across her face.

“W… what do you mean ‘it’s gone’?” she breathed, her chest now heaving. By this time, Lady Adagio had managed to catch up to them both. She stood by Prance’s side, looking anxiously from one to the other.

"Sonata... please," Prance pleaded as he watched his beloved friend's eyes go wide. Her head began to shake as she stumbled away from them on unsteady hooves.

"You're lying," she whimpered as tears again began to fall. The Duchess took this moment to step forward.

"He speaks the truth," she stated decisively. "We saw it using my magi—"

"You're lying!" Sonata screamed one more time before turning to run. Blinded by her tears, she allowed her hooves to do the work as the sound of Prance calling her name faded into the distance. As she ran faster and faster through the woods, she felt the flesh beneath her fur beginning to burn and singe. Time slowed, and the sounds of the evening echoed around her.

A creek, a log, a low hanging branch—The world now appeared to her in flashes as she watched her hooves moving of their own accord in a slow rhythm: up, down, up, down. Upward, higher and higher she went. It took a moment before it dawned on her that she was climbing something.

The heat that seemed to encompass her body wormed its way into the very center of her chest, and began to grow. The burning inside of her felt good, and so real that she swore she could smell smoke. There was a glint of red before her as the woods opened up onto a grassy ledge. She recognized those hills in the beyond, but why had the sky gone so crimson?

Rushing forward, really not caring if she were to go tumbling from the cliff's edge, Sonata bounded up to the top of the ledge, and froze to the spot when she looked out into the night.

Her eyes trained themselves upon a distant hill. They honed in upon a place where a tiny cottage once sat, lonely but happy, and surrounded by endless green. Sonata heard a scoff of disbelief escape her own throat as she noted that the hill was no longer lonely. Instead, it now crawled with shiny, glinting figures, soldiers in full armor, pushing themselves through crowds of country folk. Some of the common ponies had gathered in the spot to witness the ruckus whilst a few were being toted away in chains. Sonata couldn't bear trying to figure who they were. It was already obvious that they would be ponies she knew well.

The cottage was not the same as she had left it. Smoldering at the center of a raging inferno the tiny skeleton of a house could only barely be seen. The fire rose up toward the skies where encircling it was a host of winged figures—more pegasi. One flock was using their very particular talents to feed more air to the flames. Another group was flying about them in an even wider circle, moving thick clouds about so quickly that they seemed only an extension of the fire’s roiling smoke. The puffs poured water down around the inferno, drenching the fields, and protecting them from further damage.

Sonata felt her chest heave. In this setting and from this distance, those pegasi did look quite like the monsters out of Tartarus that Lady Adagio had mentioned.

"Tartarus," she murmured to herself, her head reeling.

As the plumes of smoke wafted into the reddened sky along with the ashen remnants of her life, the blue mare couldn't help but feel that her broken heart should have floated upward right along with them. Her raspberry eyes went dim, and the corners of her lips curled upward into an expression that had no name.

The sensation of such rage was a new one. Never before had she allowed herself to feel it with such hopeless abandon. Then again, never before had she ever felt, without a shadow of a doubt, that all hope for her future had been lost. She imagined there was a first time for everything.

The scent of smoke filled her nostrils. There was a humming in her ears, and her vision began to blur and dim until she feared she might pass out. That was when she heard a voice call to her through the haze. She turned to spy a white stallion and yellow mare running in her direction. Their hooves moved at an impossibly sluggish pace.

Her ears twitched. The winds picked up, and the branches up above were cracking like thunder, much louder than before. The shadows of the wood leapt out to surround them all.

Good.

Perhaps they would consume her, take her somewhere she didn't have to worry anymore, or work... or think. After all, there was no starting over from this place where she now unwillingly found herself. Nothingness was what she had come from, and now it seemed as if nothingness was all that was left for her to have.

The shadows were sprouting wings, one set gray, almost as dark as the night, the other set shining like the moon. They closed in toward the stallion and unicorn mare in front of her eyes. It seemed that neither of the two saw the figures darting out from the darkness towards them.

It was only then that those two shadows grew faces, familiar faces, utterly despised visages that made Sonata's stomach lurch. The sound of hooves crashing into the flanks of the two earthbound ponies was sickening.

As they both rolled away onto the ground, sputtering spittle and blood, Sonata allowed the feeling of utter disgust to fill her as she gazed upon Echo Hum and Silent Wing. The two pegasi had descended upon Prance and Lady Adagio with ropes, chains, and enchanted rings. In her daze, Sonata could just make out their wings flapping to and fro, blocking the two lovers from her view. Still, the only thing that she could fathom at the moment was how much she hated them—all four of them—for ending her everything, for making her like a ghost for the second time in her life.

Turning her entire body toward the tangle of ponies, the light began to dim before Sonata's eyes once and for all. The sky haloed her in red as she planted herself down atop the cliff, and sat stiff as stone. Something green and hazy began to grow on the edges of her fading vision just as she saw Silent Wing turn to approach her. The world flashed once in a shade of furious red, and faded to black.

Coming to Light

There was rumbling in the Northern skies. Though the sound’s source was rendered invisible by a thick wall of nimbostratus, anypony with half a wit to their name could guess where it emanated from.

Two earth mares, one red-orange, the other green, stared up at the ominous clouds as a strong gust of wind rushed past. A fury of flapping wings and stomping hooves could be heard overhead. They both clutched to their few scraps of clothing until the din had waned.

And then, something completely unexpected: The skies in the distance began to clear, slowly at first, then with fervor. How long had it been since anypony had seen that particular, far off patch of blue? What did it mean if now they could?

Cautiously, the orange mare turned to the green and blinked. “You see that, Miss Beryl?”

“Mmh. That I do, Miss Blossom,” the green replied. Her gaze was still on the horizon. “‘Twas over Edinbridle, I believe.”

Begonia Blossom cocked a brow, and adjusted her straw hat. The brim’s shadow hid the dark circles about her eyes. “A question, Miss Beryl,” she said, leaning in. “What are your thoughts on the earth ponies of those Northern lands?”

Beryl cut her eyes at the other mare, and forced down a grin. “The traitors, you mean.”

Begonia shifted about uncomfortably, clicking her tongue against her teeth. “Right, right, deary, but what do ye’ glean from ‘em? From their ruminations? Do you suppose there might be something to it all? Earth ponies deciding things for themselves?”

There was an odd tinge in Begonia’s voice. One could assume that she had already made up her mind about the entire matter.

The grin Beryl had been stowing escaped her. Somehow, it managed to be both polite and mischievous at the same time. “Miss Blossom,” she murmured, letting her gaze fall to the ground. “I do believe this conversation to be inappropriate, all things considered.” She motioned behind her to Goldenstalks manor, a dark and jagged smudge jutting out of the ground in the distance. “Perhaps it might be wiser to continue with our previous order of business.”

Begonia passed the servant mare one of her most unimpressed smirks. “Order of business,” she said, rearing up onto her hind legs, and leaning upon the fence that cut a line between them. “As you wish, my dear. The Duchess is absolutely mad. How's that for appropriate conversation?”

The country mare fell back down to all fours fiddling with the edges of her hat. It was clear her mood had deteriorated. “It is enough that nearly all of my posy blossoms are plucked. Now, I hear that Our Lady wishes that I tend to her garden for midday? Exactly what sort of miracle is Her Grace expecting?”

“Mother, I can see cake! They're going to eat cake! Please, may we go?” cried a little blue colt as he raced along the fence toward his perturbed parent. He watched on as servants beyond the Goldenstalks fields moved various pieces of furniture and refreshment to and fro from the estate garden.

“Quiet, dear. Mummy’s talking,” the gardener mare said. She reeled about to address Beryl once again. “I'm worked to the bone as is!”

“I can assure you that you shall be handsomely compensated for your trouble, Miss,” Beryl said, raising a hoof in mock surrender.

“Well, it doesn't bloody matter how much ye’ pay me to complete an impossible task, now does it?” Begonia retorted.

“Mother!”

“Peat, not now!” she bellowed. Turning about one more time, she leaned in so close to Beryl that now the servant could easily make out the weariness plaguing her face. “Miss Beryl, you understand don’t you?”

“Unfortunately, I do not, Miss Blossom,” Beryl said, huffing a strand of mane out of her eye. “The nature of flower rearing is not a particular forte of mine. However, Her Grace wishes only for a temporary patch, and not large like the others. Not for show. And, of course, you shall be granted privilege to Her Grace’s potion cabinet to aid in your efforts.” A pause. “Er… you do know how to utilize potions for plant rearing, I presume?”

This news seemed to settle the gardener. “In a pinch,” she sniffed. Her nose crinkled. “The entire potion cabinet, you say?”

“S’right, Miss Blossom. Whatever it is you might require to grow the blooms she has requested,” Beryl hummed. She leaned in close to whisper, “And I’m certain that Her Grace would not mind if, oh say, a love potion or two went missing in the fray. These little accidents are bound to happen amidst a rush, after all.”

Begonia worked her jaw. Clearing her throat, she turned tail, and flicked the bushy mass into Beryl’s face. “Fine,” she chirped. “But I still expect full payment up front.”

Her pretentiousness fell away upon hearing the distinct sound of jingling coins within burlap. Spinning about, she found Beryl dangling a near-bursting pouch from her teeth.

Tossing the sack at Bea’s hooves, the maidservant shot her a smug grin. “And that's just the first half,” she lilted.

Not too proud to pounce upon the satchel, Bea inspected its contents whilst glancing up at Beryl’s grin. The servant pony seemed fresh, calm, not worried in the slightest as to the affairs of the world around her.

Bea huffed. Satisfied with the amount within the pouch, she pulled a bit from within, and tossed it Peat Moss’ way. “Peat, dear, go buy some sweets for you and your sister,” she said.

The colt was halfway to the roadside before his mother had finished giving the command.

Beryl, confused by Begonia’s hostility, pulled her shawl tighter about herself, and took a step back in the direction of the mansion. “Well, if that is everything…” she wavered.

“Look at you. Face as fresh as a field daisy after a spring rain,” Bea grumbled, rubbing at her tired eyes. “Faces like that hard to come by anymore out where I'm from.”

“Are they?” Beryl asked. Another step backward. “Well, I wouldn't know anything about—”

“‘Course you wouldn't,” Bea interrupted. “Rumor has it that nopony on the estate gets the bad dreams.” She paused. “Is it true?”

“I…” Beryl hesitated for a moment, wrestling with herself over what to say.

“Living under the roof of His and Her Grace is quite useful to an earth pony in such times. Is it why you do not mention those who revolt? Are you afraid to live like the rest of us?” Begonia inquired.

At last, Beryl turned, and quickly march off toward the mansion. “I’m sure I don’t know what it is you're talking about,” she huffed.

“Don't you? Think yourself better off for working the estate, do ye’?” Bea bellowed after her. “Think you can just ignore what's happening to our lot on the outside, and it will all go away?”

Beryl continued on without faltering. The country mare’s attempt at shaming her was proving futile. “I have considered them. I consider them to be quite misguided,” the maidservant shouted. “And everypony is having those dreams. Not only commoners.”

Bea gawked. “Commoners?” Slowly, a laugh grew in her chest until it echoed loud through the manor fields. “‘Tis a fine day. A fine day indeed when an earth pony forgets where she came from!” She leaned upon the gate. Its wood creaked under her weight. “You think that fancy dish rag your mistress gifted you for clothing gives you a bit of clout?”

Realizing the error in her wording, Beryl spun about. “You misunderstand me, Miss Blossom. I would never imply that—”

“Where do you hail from, mare? I can smell the sand behind those ruddy ears!” the country mare said, pounding upon the fence post. Her exclamations grew louder when she saw Beryl’s fur begin to bristle. “Haysford? Billet, is it?”

“The shores of Whinnysor, and proud of it!” Beryl finally shouted, stomping a hoof into the grass.

“Ah! Seafaring blood!” Begonia mused, glad to have goaded a response out of the servant. “And tell me, how does a filly who stinks of seaweed come into the company of one such as the Duchess?”

Having finally had enough, Beryl marched her way back toward the fence post. She made sure to jut a hoof directly into Begonia’s face when she arrived. “That isn't any of your business, is it?” she growled, a vindictive spark in her eyes. “All that matters now is that I am on this side of the fence, and you are not.”

This quip momentarily silenced the gardener into a seething simmer. Beryl smiled at the sight of Bea huffing steam. “So, if you are finished with your futile attempt at pulling sympathy and penance from me, Miss Blossom…” The defiant look in the maidservant’s eye, surprisingly, melted into one of understanding, “perhaps you might simply tell me what more it is that you want, and I shall see what I can do.”

Bea stammered, not quite sure how to meet the other mare’s words playing the part of an acquaintance. Her head snapped about at the sound of little hooves racing closer.

“Muvver, look!” Peat squealed, making his way back up from the road with two satchels hanging from his teeth. “He grve me two ‘stead o’ one!”

Begonia’s steely visage melted at the sight of her little son.

Beryl gulped, also noticing the shadowy circles that haloed the young colt’s eyes.

The country mare turned again to face the servant. Her mettle had all but fallen away leaving nothing but weariness and worry in its wake. “Rumor has it that your estate ponies do not have the bad dreams,” she repeated sternly. Her lip trembled. “Is it true?”

Beryl took a deep breath. “Yes. ‘Tis true,” she said, her gaze falling to the ground.

“The Duke and Duchess,” Begonia continued, “they hoard the secret to peace of mind, and do not share it with the masses who toil on their behalf.”

“That is a lie!” Beryl huffed, her eyes wide. “Goldenstalks is a natural sanctuary. There is no spell or potion to aid us in that regard. If there was, His and Her Grace would never allow the ponies of the Sardhoof to continue their suffering. Our Lord and Lady are good ponies. This I know in my heart.”

Begonia scrutinized the servant mare. Again, her tongue clicked against her teeth. “You sound very sure of yourself,” she said. “Your master and mistress are not your friends, you delusional little thing. How very sad it is that you cannot see that the day they betray you, too, swiftly approaches.”

Beryl stared at her for a moment, lost in thought. She entertained the idea of retorting angrily before concluding that there was truly no point in arguing with the mare. Sighing, she passed both mother and child a warm smile. “A place to rest up and perhaps a bit of dessert as well. How does that sound to you?” she offered. “Her Grace has grown quite fond of your talents, Begonia. It would be a shame if the beauty of your flowers were to suffer for want of something so very basic and well deserved.”

Begonia hesitated, caught off guard by this small show of kindness. “Alright. I shall try for midday today,” she coughed, attempting to hide the sudden blush in her cheeks with the brim of her hat. Her eyes darted about when the succeeding silence became too awkward. “I… I understand the peonies, and the hyacinths, but may I ask... why evening primrose? On such short notice? It has such a plain blossom, and they do only bloom at twilight. If I am able to make them bloom at all before noon, I can assure you that the petals shan't last the day.”

Beryl shrugged, running a hoof across the end of her braid. There was a twitch in her brow before she shook a few bad inklings away. Certainly, there was no time for worrying. “Her Grace can have strange tastes at times. Perhaps she favors the primrose’s shade or its scent.” She smiled thoughtfully to herself. “I shall be sure to ask her.” Her gaze trailed down toward Peat Moss who was already halfway through one of the satchels of biscuits. “And I shall personally see to your piece of cake as well, little master.”

___

“Chancellor… Grub… Rooter!”

“No! Pop, you are poking fun at me again, aren’t you? That couldn't possibly be his name!”

“Indeed, I am not! Those charlatans not only wish to elect their own leader, but would also be satisfied with following the orders of a filthy ball of grime called... ugh… Grub! By Bullion, the pony probably collects infectious vermin for a living!”

“Dreadful!” Parasol, a stately, cream clay-colored unicorn exclaimed. She pressed a hoof to her chest, nearly teetering from her sitting cushion. “Celestia, I think I shall faint.”

Popinjay, a foppish, royal blue earth stallion, flipped one of his long white curls and sighed. “All mad, them. I truly believe it. How could one ever expect to maintain civilized society if ponies are given the freedom to simply choose their leaders? How could one ensure that they would be of the proper stock? Why, we might as well live like barbarians amongst elusive elements, just like the… flying ones.”

Parasol mumbled something about Luna and somepony rolling in a grave.

Remembering his tea, Popinjay pulled his cup closer so that he might bend down to take a sip. It seemed they were both blithely unaware of the weary look they were receiving from their third tablemate, the golden Duchess.

“Spirits bless those poor, wretched souls,” Parasol said. She absent-mindedly levitated her earth companion’s cup toward his lips the way a mother might feed her foal. “You shouldn't mock them, Pop. They are blinded by ignorance. We mustn’t mock the poor and uneducated.”

Adagio gazed upon them both, her face blank, but her insides roiling with despise. These two were fortunate that she had more important matters to tend to today. Otherwise, she might have chosen to outwardly express her disfavor.

“Your Grace? The tea you have requested,” a black and white splotched servant announced from the Duchess’ rear, pulling her from her ireful thoughts. After filling her cup, he placed the pristine, porcelain pot down upon the white tablecloth in front of her, and straightened out his back. “Will there be anything else?”

“N...no, Patchwork. That should be all for now, thank you,” Adagio said, now far too preoccupied with staring down into the murky liquid.

The surprised expressions on the faces of her noble “companions” went wholly unnoticed until Patchwork skittered away.

“You never cease to amaze me, Adagio,” Parasol said, leaning over the table. “Always so generous to her servants, wouldn't you say so?” She passed a glance Popinjay’s way.

“It would seem that Her Grace is cultivating a heart for charity,” the stallion snickered, gliding a manicured hoof down his finely groomed cheek. He moved to pull the sugar dish closer to himself.

Parasol levitated some into his cup instead. “Oh, you mustn’t do that, Popinjay. Collecting things with your teeth is so very common. Now, I've told you before, simply tell me what it is that you want, and I shall retrieve it for you.”

“Parri, you are too good to me,” the stallion yawned, never even bothering to look at her.

The sarcasm leaking from each of his words broke Adagio out of her short-lived, tea-driven trance. It took all of her might not to shoot the both of her table mates a grimace. As far as she was concerned, the rather dizzy Duchess Parasol Pride and her opportunistic, hanger-on of a companion, Popinjay, deserved each other. Both vacuous—though Parasol’s disposition was considerably sweeter than her mean-spirited friend’s—the pair seemed determined to reflect into Adagio’s face all that she continued to dislike about her position in life. Still, there was no avoiding them. Parasol was a peer, after all.

“Civility is not charity, Mister Popinjay,” Adagio clucked, levitating the table sugar closer to herself. “It costs a pony nothing to show gratitude to those that would serve her well.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” Popinjay moaned. He bowed his head whilst passing Parasol a wink that she had not the wits to decipher. “And what, may I ask, has dear Patch...work served you? Is it tasty?” The stallion gasped. “Is it expensive?”

He reached out with a foreleg—much to Parasol’s dismay—intent on drawing Adagio’s pot closer to himself. The Duchess Goldenstalks started up at once to snatch it away. Both Parasol and Popinjay gawked.

“Mister Popinjay, I would advise you to remember your manners in my presence!” the golden unicorn squawked. Her hoof shook as she manually forced down the lid of the pot.

“Well!” the stallion gasped, trying and failing to hide his loss of nerve. “My apologies, Your Grace, for forgetting myself. It shan’t happen again.”

“I should hope not!” Adagio huffed, lifting her cup toward her lips out of habit before she remembered what it contained. It wasn't long before she was, again, staring into its depths.

“Oh, he didn't mean anything by it, Adagio. I'm sure of it. Popinjay is only a bit excited to be here. Isn't that right, Pop?” Parasol said, her sleepy eyes blinking rapidly. She adjusted the disingenuously provincial wreath of daisies that sat upon her blonde-maned crown, then directed her magic downward to raise her cup toward her lips. “Now, let us forget all of these dreadful things, and enjoy each others’ company, shall we? Your garden parties are always to die for, Adagio.”

She wasn’t wrong. Ever since her ascension to Duchess, Adagio’s garden parties had become a far more frequent and lavish occurrence. However, despite the fragrant, sun spackled beauty into which she would dash her guests about every two weeks or so, the Lady Goldenstalks dared not reveal to anypony besides Beryl and Moonstone the true nature of these events.

It had been over a month since Upright had taken on a Duchy, and over a month since Adagio and Sir Lighthoof had been able to visit with one another in the way they used to before the Duke had set his flying hounds upon her. Even now, the Duchess knew that if she were to pay close enough attention, she might spy out of the corner of her eye a swift movement among the tall grasses or a quick shadow passing overhead that would surely appear to have no source if only she still cared enough to look up.

These parties of hers were some of the few chances she was allowed to see her beloved knight, to dance with him the way they used to, to sit and speak with him despite their being unable to express much more beyond formal pleasantries. “Sir Lighthoof,” she would greet him, hoping that he heard the sorrowful regret in the words. “Your Grace,” he would reply, his offers of freedom hanging heavier in the air around them with each passing meeting. Even now, from across the garden’s clearing all packed with pastries and white linen frocks, she could see him staring holes into her from where he anxiously stood guard beside a mostly untouched refreshment table.

The Duchess passed him a weak smile, bobbing her cup in his direction. Prance turned away from her. He worked his jaw, suddenly appearing very sick. Adagio couldn't blame him.

The time in between their meetings felt long, increasingly torturous. Moments spent in one another’s company were fleeting. Adagio had become listless in the in-between. Thus, she resolved herself to finding appropriate and necessary distractions. In that first month, she had poured herself so very much into her garden, her parties, and cooling her husband’s suspicions with ever-waning sweetness, and she did it so thoroughly that the other great lie she had been telling the world was almost foolishly forgotten.

It was Beryl who, casually, had first taught her about such things as evening primrose. At the time, Adagio remembered feeling a twinge of disgust direct itself onto her maidservant, despite the plant being mentioned absent-mindedly and only in passing, and despite it merely being her effort to make a helpful statement. While most ponies outwardly lambasted such unsavory mares business as being evidence of a heartless villain, the truth of the matter was that such knowledge was secretly valued by many. When the time was appropriate for it, nopony ever needed an explanation as to why.

Now, staring down into the murky liquid in her cup, Adagio couldn’t help but snort at the irony of her predicament. For all intents and purposes, there was no reason to subject herself to such physical punishment. Yet she knew that if her cover up was to be successful, it would also have to be thorough. A terrible fall or rotten stew was out of the question. Whichever pony happened to be in the vicinity when this took place would surely be blamed. To Tartarus with what her sister, Violet, had suggested. Adagio had not the coldness to willingly send an innocent to suffer for her own mistakes. Thus, something of her own doing was required. Considering that, if evening primrose was not in her blood stream when the estate physician next examined her, the ruse would surely be uncovered.

Naturally, she had taken care of the other details in her scheme as well. In what would seem yet another act of betrayal, she had requested that Beryl order the rearing of a list of blossoms, evening primrose included, into a far place in the garden where no pony might think ill of them. Then, whilst that grumpy country gardener had gone off for a late breakfast, Adagio had taken a quick walk through the patches. Pretending to be wholly unaware of the primrose’s nature, she had plucked a few petals from each patch to be used as tea. Then, after using her magic to dry them, she had crushed the lot, and passed it off to the kitchen staff as hyacinth and pansy meant only for her consumption. Simple enough.

The first bit of her party had been arguably enjoyable, all over-cooled cakes, barely wilted roses, and light talk with an increasingly distraught Lighthoof. Then, much too soon, the sun had begun its decline, and at last, Adagio knew it was time.

Oh well, she thought to herself, finally raising her cup to her lips. Surely, at some point I've done something wicked enough to warrant this punishment. Perhaps the Spirits might consider a few of my debts repaid.

Unceremoniously, she gulped the liquid down. It was bitter without sugar, but she supposed that perhaps she deserved that, too. Shaking away the tingle crawling up her back, she quickly poured herself another cup, downed it, and continued on until the entire pot was emptied.

Looking oddly at peace, she dropped the container down onto the table, and looked up at her stunned tablemates. Their gawking faces had gone somewhat hazy around the edges. Warmth overtook her cheeks.

“Your Grace was quite thirsty!” Popinjay coughed, trying to hide his snickering.

“‘Tis truly a shame, Mister Popinjay, that I should never have the pleasure of witnessing you sample such a tea,” she quipped, chuckling at her own cleverness as she watched the stallion’s entire face go red. The warmth was now spreading down through her chest, into her legs, up her back. She began to sway as a tickle grew in her stomach.

“Adagio, dear, are you feeling alright?” Parasol inquired. “I must say, your eyes do appear a bit… glassy.”

She could feel the sick gestating in her stomach. The sound of Parasol’s voice instantly became intolerable. The sheen of the gaudy world around her fell away. “Oh, Parasol, do shut up,” she grumbled, teetering too far, and accidentally flipping her emptied teapot onto the ground. It shattered to bits, drawing the attentions of everypony in the nearby vicinity, Prance included.

“W… w-w… what?” the Duchess Pride squawked in disbelief, unable to fathom that anypony might speak to her so rudely.

Seeing this commotion as reason to rush to her side, Prance quickly headed Adagio’s way. “Your Grace?” he murmured as he crouched down beside her, bracing her shivering back with a sturdy foreleg. “What is the matter?”

All he received in response was a dizzy smile.

“Oh, Lighthoof! So glad you've decided to join us,” Adagio said. Her head lolled forward for just a moment before she popped up straight once again. “I'm perfectly well. I suppose the tea was just a bit too strong.” She passed a meaningful glare Prance’s way, one which he deciphered as being mischievous.

The knight’s brow furrowed with quiet suspicions as he stared down at the brown and off yellow dregs now soaking into the ground. “Your Gr… What...” he stammered.

“The Duchess is unwell!” Parasol whined, tugging at her pale mane with her hooves. She glared vindictively at Adagio. “She is saying things that she does not mean! Do something, soldier!”

“Your….voice is so very... irritating,” Adagio slurred in between hiccups, again reeling upon the palomino mare. At last, she gave one final heave. Her raspberry eyes shot open wide, and her cheeks puffed out to resemble a chipmunk’s. Casually, politely even, she turned her head to the side, bent over, and retched onto the garden’s flatstone. Then, keeling back, she passed out into Prance’s grasp.

“Adagio!” the knight cried, forgetting the formalities of her address.

The air was filled with gasps, shocked chattering, and crashing porcelain as the entire gathering rose to its hooves. A few of the estate’s servants, Beryl included, rushed forward to help upon witnessing this chaos.

“Her Grace is ill!”

“Celestia, help us. The tea is poisoned!”

“This is surely earth pony treachery! Back, you scoundrels!”

“Somepony fetch the physician! Quickly!”

“Your Grace!” Beryl screeched, pushing past guest after guest to crouch at her mistress’ side. “Your Grace, are you alright?”

“It was her tea,” Prance said, attempting to keep the calm in his voice. “Can you decipher it, Beryl?”

The servant mare, ignoring the growing cries that she not be allowed to touch the Duchess for fear of treachery, pushed her long braid back, and bent over to stare at the tea dregs upon the ground. “I-I do not know, Sire. I am not knowledgeable in flowers. I don't think I can—”

“Beryl! Try harder!” Prance commanded, briefly losing his patience.

Nodding her head obediently, the maidservant bent down low to peer at the spilled bits of herb. “Yellow flowers. Pansy perhaps. I cannot be certain! I-it's been boiled, and… M-maybe that gardener mare would—”

“Gardener?” Prance cut in, now irate. “Which gardener is that? What is her name?”

“It was... Oh, dirt!” Beryl cried, still studying the swill. “She was reddish, almost. Had a young son with her! Be… Be…”

“Begonia…?” Prance breathed, now utterly confused. “Begonia Blossom?”

“Y-yes!” Beryl exclaimed. “The Duchess always allows her to manage the flowers for her garden parties. She…” The maidservant’s words finally trailed off when she sniffed the dregs from the Duchess’ broken teapot. She gasped quietly. Her body went stiff as realization descended upon her. When again she rose, her gaze brushed briefly over her mistress’ green, hyacinth-shaped pin before drifting over to Lighthoof.

When Prance looked upon the maidservant, her fur was bristled, and her pupils had shrunk to the size of dots. He watched on as she waved a few more servants to her aid.

“Quickly! Quickly, now! Up! Get her to the manor! Fetch the doctor!”

The trial was painful as Adagio knew it would be. The worst part? She was constrained to insist on spending it alone. Despite Beryl’s dedication to her, the only ponies the Duchess could allow to know about her own body's ineptitude were her sisters, ponies who truly understood the severity of her predicament. Unfortunately, neither of them had been in attendance to the party, nor had she heard from the pair in quite a long time. If she had not been running herself ragged with worry and sickness over the past month, perhaps she might have taken the opportunity to fret after their well being instead.

Of course, like most horrible things, eventually the throes of her illness and pain subsided. By this time, the sun was kissing the horizon, and the evening glories had begun to bloom. After her body had settled down into a far more tolerable heavy sweat, the Duchess called from her bed for Beryl to enter her chamber.

The maidservant who, expectedly, had been standing vigil at her mistress’ door, rushed in, frantic to aid in whichever way possible. “Have you been drinking the water? Here, let me help you out of that robe! Lands, Mum, why is your window shut?”

“Beryl, please come here,” the Duchess rasped, waving the earth pony over from the now opened window. Indeed, the fresh air seemed to renew her just a bit more.

Beryl, looking terrified, slowly made her way toward the bedside. She did not wait for permission to speak. “Y… Your Grace?” she began, her eyes the size of dinner plates. “Tell me. H… how could this have happened? Please tell me that this was a mistake… a horrible mistake.”

The pain in the earth mare’s eyes stabbed at Adagio. Still, there was no turning back now. “Yes. It was an accident,” she mumbled through perspiration and heaving breaths. “Forgive me, Beryl. I thought they were pansies.”

“Don't you lie to me, Miss,” the maidservant hissed through fresh tears, her head shaking from side to side. She reached forward to press her hooves against her mistress’ shoulders. “Don't you lie! You requested that I bring on that gardener to plant those primroses this morning! You planned all of this!”

The earth mare began to descend into panic and anger in a way Adagio had never before witnessed. Perhaps it was brought on by her own natural inclination toward self preservation. She knew well what could happen if the Duchess were to blame her for this debacle.

Adagio, rightfully, felt ashamed of herself. However, caught in her lie by a lesser pony, and quite cross for it, her learned response was only to retaliate. When Beryl shook her frantically, she reached out at once, and shoved her back onto the ground. “Beryl! You forget yourself!” The words both stung and soothed her. She hated what she was implying, and yet, it felt good to lash out at something weaker than herself.

Shocked and stunned, Beryl teetered backward. Her legs gave way and, soon, she fell down to her belly. She cleared her throat, and wiped her tears away. “P...pardon me, Your Grace,” she said, bowing her head.

Obliged to lie there looking pitiful, she sighed out her frustrations, and passed the Duchess an expression of concern. “And… and what of the foal?” she squeaked.

The best Adagio could manage under such duress was to give her maidservant a spiteful glower. Reaching down toward her collar, the Duchess, at last, relieved herself of the burden of that accursed, green pin. Unceremoniously, she tossed it across the room for a heartbroken Beryl to collect. “Call upon Silver Slate, and then deliver that unto His Grace,” she sniffed, straightening the mess that was her mane. “Do not linger there in his presence, Beryl. Return to me as quickly as you can.”

Under dictate of Duke Upright Goldenstalks of the Sardhoof, Goldenstalks manor was a relatively calm—even if tense—place. His father, though expectedly regal and rather old fashioned, had since his youth possessed a somewhat lackadaisical nature that reassured his household he, too, was of ponykind. On the other hoof, his only son, Upright, though beloved by his parents, had always seemed off, rather strange in his youngest days. Still, though completely self aware to the point of self exclusion and ever too serious for his age, the odd, bookish colt had somehow managed to grow up into a powerhouse of a royal peer. Efficient, hardworking, and dedicated, Upright had become one of the most respected leaders in the kingdom. Enough so that everypony else deemed his talents vast enough to outweigh his one, great fault: his austerity.

The stallion wasn't known for his kindness or sociability. Nor was he outwardly passionate about anything besides his work. But if there was ever a pony who could know that he did, indeed, possess a warm and beating heart somewhere beneath that cold exterior, it would be his wife, Adagio Dazzle.

On a rudimentary level, Upright was an excellent husband; to this the Duchess could attest. He provided for her, he defended her, he even made means to spoil her. The only thing in which he was lacking, and in which Adagio found herself wanting, was for a show of his love.

She had known ponies similar to this, creatures who were only able to show affection through material means. Occasionally, she even got it into her head to suspect that her husband was exactly like them. And then, every time she would come dangerously close to giving up hope, something would spark. Perhaps, those ice blue eyes would soften as they silently passed one another in the corridor. Sometimes, when he touched her in that stiff way of his, his hoof lingered, and she could feel the living warmth of him. She watched on often as he wrestled with his own tongue to say words that his brain was inclined to dissuade him from. These tiny moments of transparency were brief, but still enough for her to know that more was possible, and that without a doubt, the Duke was merely unwilling to meet her halfway.

Herein lay the crux of their problem.

Adagio despised being underestimated and subjugated. She hated being owned and maintained like a fancy piece of clothing, rather than being cherished. Upright, however, was a stallion very adept at maintaining and owning things. It should have come as no surprise, then, that he might grow frighteningly neurotic when his possessions or plans, Adagio and their baby included amongst them, came under threat of either new ownership or dictation.

The evening she returned the Duke’s pin, Adagio could not predict what would happen, but she did know that it would be wise to hunker down.

The sun had nearly set on the estate, and the guests had all gone away, retired off into town where their lavish homes or rented rooms awaited them. The hallways were emptied of life, save for the occasional maid pattering quickly toward some small chamber of refuge. There was a ticking in the air, not unlike a clock counting its way toward something dreadful. Many supposed that perhaps the sound might have magically emanated from the Duke’s own seething brain as it brooded alone in the dark of his study.

When the first crash echoed through the manor halls, nopony was shocked. Those who were daring enough to investigate afterward would discover a once pristine vase of golden flowers sitting crushed and ruined in the mud, having been dashed through the study window.

Sparks of orange as bright as day flashed from the room and down the hallways. Walls trembled. A howl shot like an arrow through the air. Gildings were flayed from their mouldings upon the ceiling. A door could be heard flying from its hinges in a blast of magic. It crashed into wreckage and splintered against some unfortunate wall.

“Who is responsible?”

Bodies rushed to and fro to get out of sight lest they pay dearly for simply breathing. Hushed whispers swelled until every corridor hissed and moaned.

Adagio lay in her chamber, listening. On her left side, slowly sifting through a set of vials with his magical aura, was the estate’s fossil of a physician, Silver Slate. On her right stood Beryl, one hoof resting upon her mistress’, the other tangled tightly into the sheets. The earth mare’s ears twitched restlessly. Her tail flicked itself back and forth as she gazed off into some hidden part of her own mind.

Adagio’s eyes remained closed as she was far too busy concentrating on keeping her stomach from turning. Praying, in her naivete, that Upright’s rampage would soon pass, she hadn't the energy to note Beryl’s expression growing darker, more tense with each boom and crash.

“Who is responsible?” the echoes rang through the estate. “Beryl!” he bellowed.

The earth mare flinched at the sound of her name. Adagio, feeling this reaction underhoof, stroked the green fur of her maidservant’s foreleg. Perhaps the manor might not make it through the night unscathed, but as long as nopony was hurt, the Duchess figured that everything would be alright… eventually.

“The evening primrose has done its work, Your Grace. That much is certain,” old Silver Slate groaned. His crude spectacles were almost shaken from his nose by a sudden blow that rocked the manor. Weakly, he adjusted them with a glow of magic.

Beryl shook her head. “This is my doing. I am a fool.”

“Beryl,” Adagio sighed, rubbing her aching temple. “That is enough.”

With resolve, the maidservant leaned forward toward her mistress. “Your Grace, this is madness. It must end.”

“Beryl, you are to stay by my side as I have instructed,” Adagio said, wincing with fatigue.

“But, Your Grace, somepony shall surely be injured if—”

“Beryl, I have spoken!” The Duchess shouted, pounding a hoof into her bed. She reclined back into her cushions after giving a great, sickly cough.
The maidservant bowed her head in submission.

Seeing this, Adagio turned away, confident that the earth mare would not protest again. “Am I still whole?” she asked Silver Slate. “Shall I ever...”

“Beryl, stop, now,” a voice identical to Adagio’s echoed within the servant mare’s skull. Beryl’s head shot up. Her eyes darted about the room until they landed upon her mistress. Out of the corner of her eye, the Duchess was passing her a knowing look. “Do not worry yourself over this matter any longer.”

More raging from the beyond. The sound of the Duke’s hoofsteps were becoming erratic as they lumbered through the hallways back toward his study. His howls grew more furious.

Adagio’s lips continued speaking out loud whilst the voice in her mind trained itself upon her servant.

Beryl shivered. Her expression seemed to beg for the ability to reply to her mistress in kind without Silver Slate hearing. Adagio nodded her head in understanding even whilst her mouth still addressed the aged physician. “Send your thoughts to me with focused intent. I shall hear them,” the Duchess said inside of the servant mare’s head.

Beryl nodded. Her lips drew in tight. “Please, Your Grace. Something must be done. I am so very confused and afraid.”

Adagio sighed out loud. Silver Slate could still detect nothing amiss.

“Beryl, I am weak and weary. This spell is troublesome. I shall confess, but heed my warning, you must take this secret with you to your grave.”

A pause. Beryl’s eyes had gone wide with terror.

“There is no foal. There never was, and I fear there never shall be,” Adagio said. Their eyes bore into one another’s.

“What? Do you mean to say, that this entire time…” Beryl replied. Her initial thought trailed off when Adagio nodded.

“The Duke is the type to drive himself mad over want of an heir. If he were to ever discover that I could not…”

Beryl had set herself to thinking, mulling the past four years over in her head. Her brow finally furrowed with anger. “So. I was correct, then. Your Grace, what have you done? Surely, an innocent shall suffer for your lie!”

She received no response. “Do you not care for them at all?” she pressed.

The Duchess turned away.

Beryl leaned forward, bearing down upon her mistress’ hoof. “Why do you not simply confess to the Duke? He loves you. I can see it in him. I am certain he would understand if—”

Adagio’s eyes popped open wide. They burned with rage. “No!” The internal shout banged off the walls of Beryl’s skull. “You naive, little fool! Nopony is going to tell the Duke anything! And nopony shall be harmed if you do as I say!” A fearful waver had entered the Duchess’ ethereal voice.

Silver Slate prattled on. “I cannot decipher a reason as to why this might hinder or endanger any future attempts,” the frail physician hummed, too old to note anything odd about their close-knit gathering of three. “However, you certainly should wait before trying again, Your Grace. One month at minimum, lest you do yourself permanent harm.”

Beryl was now trembling furiously as she listened to the Duke carry on beyond the threshold, calling the names of any and every servant who he could recall. “I trusted you, Your Grace. I figured you to be far greater than all of these petty things,” she said. Now, her ethereal voice was wavering as well. “I tolerated, even aided in your associations with Sir Lighthoof because I thought I understood your melancholy. I did it because I never thought to imagine that you might so freely put my life in danger. How could you use the information I have entrusted to you to the detriment of every servant of your estate? How could you?”

Adagio scoffed out loud.

“‘Petty’, sayeth she,” the Duchess’ ethereal voice crowed. She turned her face away. “If only you knew better.”

Beryl’s fur stood on end. “He will have somepony’s life for this. You know it as well as I do. Why do you not simply confess?” She received no reply. “With all due respect, Your Grace, you have been married only four years! You are young and fresh still, with all the time in the world to—”

“I shall hear no more on it, Beryl!” the Duchess bellowed. Her horn sparked, nearly calling Silver Slate’s attention away from his own, self indulgent rambling. “It is done. You shall remain silent on all of these matters. Do you understand?” Adjusting her sheets in a tizzy, she turned away for the final time.

Beryl trembled with indignation. Her fur bristled. The booming and crashing continued on. Finally, huffing with resolve, the maidservant spun away, and without another word, raced for the door. She nearly toppled old Silver Slate over as she went.

“Beryl, return to me this instant!” the Duchess hissed, sitting up in bed as she watched the mare fly from the room and disappear into the corridor’s darkness. Realizing the maidservant’s intent, dread descended upon Adagio. Wasting no time, she mustered up some strength, and forced herself up onto her hooves. There was a terrible trembling in her limbs, and a sallow coloring about her eyes.

“Your Grace, you must rest!” Silver Slate urged, shuffling toward her as she skittered for the door.

“Quiet, old stallion,” the Duchess hissed, setting her sights upon the darkness beyond.
___

The moon shone brightly into the wreckage of Upright’s study. What the noble stallion had not destroyed had been scattered around in the evening breeze blowing through the shattered and gaping window. The sound of tempered breath mingled with the wind. A stone paperweight carved in the image of a leaf was collected up into an orange aura, and dashed itself to bits against the doorway. The threshold opened just a moment after.

In stepped Beryl. Gently shutting the door behind herself, she pulled her embroidered shawl neatly about her shoulders. Clearing her throat, she attempted to gather the Duke’s attention away from where his muzzle was currently buried somewhere behind his scuffed and scratched oakwood desk. “Y-Your Grace, please. That is quite enough,” she said, crouching low to the ground.

In the darkness, a goldenrod head popped up to stare at her. The Duke’s usually impeccable mane had fallen out of place. His uniform was disheveled, torn in some places if one were to study it closely enough. The way his eyes bore into the mare, gaping and bewildered, made him appear deranged. “You've come!” he stated, rushing about the desk to stand before the maidservant. “Quickly, tell me what it was that you saw. Who was it that fed Her Grace that poison?”

An orange haze of magic shot from his horn. It desperately wriggled and writhed, trying to snatch at Beryl’s fur. The mare dodged out of the way just in time to be caught by the shawl. The worn, embroidered length ripped away from her neck and sailed across the room. “Your Grace!” she gasped, backing toward a nearby corner.

Fortunately, the offended look she was wearing proved enough to settle the stallion’s nerves for the time being. Perhaps, somewhere in the back of Upright’s mind, the knowledge that he was being watched and judged proved enough to return him to his senses. Clearing his throat, but making no effort to fix his clothing or mane, the Duke lowered himself to his haunches. His back straightened out, and soon he looked something of his noble self again. “Right. Tell me all that you know, Beryl,” he repeated, calmly this time, “so that the traitor among us might be rooted from his hiding place.”

Beryl, gulping down a rising sense of terror, shook her head, and lowered her gaze to the floor. Nearly all her life, she had served as Lady Adagio’s protector. Despite what she knew in her heart about Sir Lighthoof and the evening primrose, she no more desired to betray her mistress’ confidence than she wished to cut off her own limb. “Your Grace, I can assure you, there is nothing to tell,” she said. “The yellow of evening primrose is a very common bloom color. Most likely, it was mistaken for pansy or dandelion.”

The Duke’s left eye twitched.

“Dandelion or…” He scoffed, taking a step toward her. The sound of his hoof upon wood made the mare shrink. Shadows splashed across his increasingly maddened face. “I never wondered what the plants were mistaken for, Beryl. I want a name. Was it Patchwork?”

Beryl hesitated. The danger she detected lurking in his words set her on edge. “C-couldn't be, Your Grace. P-Patchwork is a butler, nothing more. He isn't specialized in knowing about that sort of thing.” Her cheeks grew hot. She prayed the guilt plastered across her face wasn't apparent in the dark.

“Ah, yes,” the Duke said, nodding his head. “Lila, then. It must be Lila. She has the motive, after all.”

Beryl recalled the estate’s longtime resident floriculturist. Lila had been a fixture at Goldenstalks manor ever since she and Adagio were but fillies. The maidservant had not forgotten the tale Lila had told of the first day she had ever met the future Duchess. Beryl remembered the pink mare displaying her bruises and repeating to her the humiliations that awaited any servant who might dare to anger a noble, especially a Goldenstalks. Even Upright’s father, as reasonable as he may have seemed at any other time, did not hesitate to dispense upon her, a commoner, punishments reserved especially for those deemed incompetent, and thus unwittingly treacherous.

Lila's story was told as a warning when Beryl was very young. Thinking on it all again, in that moment the maidservant could not deny how very similar those words had been to the warnings Begonia had given her earlier that day:

Your master and mistress are not your friends, you delusional little thing...

Shaking her head free of these harrowing thoughts, Beryl met the Duke’s gaze again. “Lila. No. Never,” she breathed, eyes wide. “Lila is gentle, rendered completely docile since our youth, Your Grace. She barely speaks. She wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t she?” Upright pressed, raising a brow. It was clear that he was growing impatient. “And how are you so very sure of this?”

The mare gulped as she sensed the sharp spears of Upright’s rage threatening to turn upon her next. “B-because Lila was not one to rear evening primrose,” Beryl replied, trying without success to stave off her trembling. “Those flowers were only just put into the ground this morning, Your Grace.”

A pregnant silence passed between the two. Realization slowly descended upon the Duke. “That gardener!” he hissed, his maddened eyes darting about. “The one with two foals, yes? Where is she now?”

“Your Grace...” Beryl wavered.

“Guards!” the Duke bellowed.

“Your Grace! I can assure you it was not her doing!” Beryl sputtered as the Duke took yet another step toward her, then another. “She has labored for the estate on many occasions with no prior problem. There is no reason she should be unhappy with Her Grace.”

“Then she is unhappy with the state of the Duchy! With me! That is motive enough!” Upright quipped. “Guards!” he cried again.

Heavy hoofsteps could be heard making their way toward the study. A moment later, two armor-clad earth stallions rumbled into the room. “Your Grace!” they shouted. With a salute, they raised their heads in tandem, and awaited further orders.

“Find that gardener who tends to Her Grace’s gatherings,” Upright commanded them. “She resides off in the countryside. Red of color. Has two young foals. Bring all three of them to me. She shall pay an equal price for that which she has taken from me.”

“Yes, Sire!” the guards bellowed, turning about at once, and rushing from the room.

“By Celestia, no!” Beryl squawked in horror upon realizing the Duke’s dark intention. “Your Grace, please! This was all just a terrible, terrible mistake!”

To her shock, Beryl felt her neck strain as she was suddenly yanked upward by her braid. Struggling to raise her head, she soon discovered that the length had been wrapped in a hot, orange glow. Her words were stifled by shooting pain as she found herself eye-to-eye with the Duke.

“A mistake?” he hissed, rattling her about by the mane. “Beryl, I do believe you know more than you are letting on. Explain yourself, mare.”

She breathed through the stinging now spreading across her entire head. Her vision blurred as tears welled up within them. Her forelegs flailed about in a pointless attempt to break free until, at last, she surrendered to all of these sensations, and braced forward upon the Duke’s chest in defeat. “I must… must confess,” she stammered, blinking past agony.

“Confess to what, Beryl?” Upright growled, drawing her body away from him. Her back hit the wall. “You have lived by Her Grace’s side since your youth. You are her most trusted servant, one to never be suspected. Tell me, mare, was this your doing?”

Beryl could smell the growing heat of Upright’s magic singeing the end of her braid. “Must tell you,” she continued on, her eyes squeezing shut, “the… the Duchess… she...”

“Yes?” Upright prodded.

“She has been—”

The study door slammed open to reveal a trembling, sweat-laden lady standing in the corridor. Ignoring the shocking scene before her, Adagio took a few slow steps forward. “Beryl. There you are. I was worried after you, you foolish filly,” she croaked, forcing a grin that appeared more threatening than pleased. Her eyes drifted onto Upright. “My Love, why do you not release her?”

“Return to your chambers at once, Ada,” the Duke said, his gaze never wavering away from the servant mare. “You are unwell, and Beryl and I were speaking privately.”

“Nonsense,” Adagio scoffed, scuttling her way further into the study. “Whatever Beryl feels obliged to say, may be said in my presence. Isn’t that right, Beryl?” She passed the mare a grim glare.

“She knows who it was that fed you that poison,” the Duke said, tightening his aura’s grip upon the poor mare’s mane.

Beryl whimpered.

Adagio flinched at the sight of her beloved maidservant struggling to break free. She willed herself calm. “Ridiculous. This was simply all a mistake,” she sighed. “I pulled those petals thinking them pansies.”

“No!” Upright protested. “This mare has revealed to me that the poison was reared only this morning. Whoever did such a thing intended for this to happen!”

Adagio faltered as she realized she had arrived too late; Beryl had already revealed too much. Her eyes blinked rapidly as her mind raced. Body aches wracked her. The smile faded from her lips. “What did you say?” the Duchess breathed, looking upon the servant mare. Her eyes were filled with sorrow.

“Oh, Beryl,” an ethereal voice again resounded within the maidservant’s skull. “What have you done?”

“Tell him, Your Grace,” Beryl replied through the magical bridge strung up between their minds. “The Duke has intentions most foul. Th… that country mare’s children…They... Innocents shall suffer! Tell him or I shall!”

“I cannot allow that to happen,” Adagio said.

Beryl’s eyes bore into her mistress’, full of regret and sorrow. She braced forward upon the Duke again. Those same soft eyes were now full of purpose. “My Lord, the Duchess is—”

A flash of raspberry light lit up the room, and at once, Beryl found herself lying upon the floor. A stinging sensation ripped through her side. Before she could make sense of what had happened, Adagio was upon her, ripping and tearing at her head, her mane. Beryl’s ears detected frantic screaming, ferocious accusations of betrayal. Her mind, however, swam with apologies and supplications.

“Beryl, do not interfere. I, too, lament for those few innocents, but you do not understand what shall happen if all is revealed to the Duke. Harm shall surely come to us all. I beg you, my friend...”

“Who was it? Speak! Who has done this to me?” Adagio cried out loud. “Tell him it was the gardener... or Lila,” she pleaded on through the spell magic.

Poor Beryl could do nothing but repeat Begonia Blossom’s warning over and over in her head as she fended off the Duchess’ blows: Your master and mistress are not your friends, you delusional little thing. How very sad it is that you cannot see that the day they betray you, too, swiftly approaches.

Heartbroken, the maidservant shot her gaze toward the Duke. “It was…” she began.

“Beryl, I beg of you,” Adagio’s lament rang on within the servant mare’s brain.

“It was I!” Beryl screamed at last. “It was I who told the gardener to rear the primrose! It was I who led Her Grace to the blossoms for her tea! I do confess it!”

The room fell into a sickening silence save for Beryl’s tempered breath. Her eyes darted about wildly, and her forelegs blocked her body from any more impending blows. Just as she had begun to trust that she was safe, a golden hoof struck her hard across the face.

“Bitch!” Adagio screamed. Her eyes teared as they stared down at her, full of regret.

Beryl was filled with righteous indignation. Her gaze had gone dark and daring. “There it is. Now, tell him. Will you not tell him for my sake?” she prodded Adagio’s mind.

Upright stepped forward, cloaked in furious silence. The blue of his eyes smoldered in the dark. For a moment, he seemed lost in his rage. His horn glowed bright, and his head had begun to bow in Beryl’s direction to strike before, thankfully, he remembered himself. “Guards!” he howled, his horn dimming. Again, hoofsteps resounded down the corridor.

“Spirits, Beryl…” Adagio lamented. “Do you still not understand? Your bravery and strength are qualities which I do not possess.” Slowly, the Duchess stood up, and backed away to her husband’s side. “I cannot confess. I am sorry.”

Beryl’s hardened expression melted into one of terror as, finally, she realized the extent of her mistress’ betrayal. A moment later, another triad of estate soldiers burst into the room, saluted, and awaited command.

Both of the nobles’ shadows cast themselves over the battered servant mare, blocking out all moonlight.

Upright inhaled deeply, and closed his eyes with resolve. “Beryl, you were entrusted with Her Grace’s safety, and have betrayed that trust many times over. This brand of treachery is beyond my ability to pardon. Nor can I, in good faith, ever again entrust you with the safety of any peer of His Royal Highness.” The stallion’s gaze fell to the floor. “Take her. You know what to do,” he commanded his guard. He then turned toward the open window to save Beryl the indignity of his gaze.

At once, all three of the guards were upon the struggling mare who, rightfully, began to scream for her very life. “Mercy!” she cried, digging her hooves into the scuffed wood flooring as she was dragged across the room. Her supplications seemed directed toward the Duke; yet, her eyes remained planted firmly upon her distressed mistress. “Save me! Save me, I beg of you!”

She was silenced into a coughing fit by a strike to the gut.

“Stop that racket!” one of the soldiers barked, helping his partner to hoist the spent mare across the third’s back. “His Grace has heard enough out of you!” After a final salute, all three stallions turned and headed through the door.

Adagio trembled. The sound of her own broken-hearted weeping echoed off of the study walls.

“Please,” Beryl begged one last time. Her foreleg reached out in the direction of her mistress.

“Wait! Stop!” the Duchess cried at last, rushing forward to halt the guards.

Upright’s ear twitched at the sound of his wife’s voice crossing his orders. He spun about to stare. “Stop?” he asked. “What the jewel for?”

“What… what she means to me can no sooner be forgotten as could her betrayal,” Adagio breathed. “She has wronged me in a way that I cannot forgive, and yet still, my heart weeps for her.”

“Ada, you mustn’t let your emotions control you in this way. You are still unwell. Return to your chamber,” the Duke said, on the verge of turning away once again.

“I shall not!” Adagio protested, stunning him into silence. Again, she turned toward the doorway where Beryl had mustered up enough coherence to look upon her. “I cannot forgive what the earth mare has done to me, but perhaps a small mercy is still possible, a mercy on behalf of all that she once meant to me.”

A beat of silence cloaked the room.

“And what do you suggest, Ada?” the Duke inquired. He spoke in a monotone. Any expression upon his face was hidden by evening shadow.

“The pit,” Adagio wavered, trying to keep up her facade of resolve. “Take her to the pit. Do not harm her, but allow her to live out the rest of her days in the dank and darkness.” The Duchess unsuccessfully attempted to gulp down the overflow of regrets now caught in her throat. “I wish to never see her again.”

Her lip trembled. “Sweet Beryl,” she lamented to her servant through the spellcasted pathway. “Forgive me. I have not the mettle to see you perish.”

Beryl’s gaze grew scornful. “Any of my sufferings to come shall be your fault!” she replied, attempting to wriggle herself from the guardstallion’s back. She was rendered still and silent by his two partners. “If your father, the good Baron, could see what it is you have become, he would be ashamed! What is it that you believe you are doing, Adagio?”

The Duchess was stunned to hear the maidservant address her as an equal. Then again, she had to concede that in this of all moments, it was warranted. Smiling so faintly that no one besides the two of them could detect it, Adagio said, “Foolish filly.” She sniffed away the last of her tears. “I am saving your life.”

They only had time for one last, painful parting glance before the Duke then stepped forward. With a wave of his hoof, he beckoned the guards out. “Very well. Away with her,” he said.

Upright did not turn again to face his wife until the soldiers’ heavy hoofsteps could no longer be heard in the corridor. When at last he did, he gave her a pointed look. Clearing his throat, he conjured up some magic to pull together two torn sitting cushions, a once toppled table, and a nearby bottle of cider that had rolled from under his desk. Fetching two glasses from some dark cabinet, he presented a hoof to Adagio, bidding her to sit.

Finding this suspicious, the Duchess did not comply. Instead, she watched on as the Duke took a seat without her, uncorked the bottle of cider, and poured himself a glass. The sip he took was drawn out. His glazed eyes lingered in some far corner as he pondered to himself.

It wasn't difficult for somepony who knew Upright to determine the mood of his thoughts, especially if that somepony happened to be his wife. It was clear to Adagio that the stallion was still brooding inside of one of his more dangerous auras, and at that particular moment, she decided she had not the energy remaining to entertain any of them. Turning about to face the door, she took a step forward, praying that she might be able to walk away unnoticed and unbothered.

She should have known better.

“Shall I pose the question or shall you offer the answer, then?” the Duke’s voice inquired from behind her.

Adagio frowned. Her foreleg froze in the air, midstep. “Your Grace, I am weary. Speak your mind plainly.” She could almost feel his icy glare boring into her back.

“Very well,” he stated. “What was it that you said to her?”

The Duchess’ heart skipped a beat. She warded off the tremor that threatened to wrack her entire body. “Upright,” she sighed, “I haven't the slightest idea what it is you are talking about.” She turned to face him, feigning righteousness. “It has been a dreadfully long day, and now I wish to retreat to my bower. You may join me if it pleases you, and if you are quite finished destroying all of your—”

“Do you take me for a fool, Adagio?” the Duke asked. Strangely enough, the calm in his voice proved more frightening than any alternative.

Adagio, caught off guard yet again, forced some indignation onto her face. “I do not take you for a fool, Your Grace,” she chirped defiantly. “I take you for a pony who has driven himself half mad for want of a perfect and obedient world!” Boldly, she took a step toward him, even as he rose off of his seat in shocked fury.

She was indeed sick, exhausted, heartbroken, and had just condemned her oldest friend to an existence of darkness and shame—all because of him. At long last, the time had come to confront the Duke’s troubled mind, and attempt to lay it to rest, whether that might require more lying or just a little bit of something else. A flame began to lick the spot between her chest and neck as fresh anger grew. It was a strangely familiar sensation.

“That world in which everything goes according to your plan does not exist, Upright! It never has! Even if it did, this could not grant you the freedom to burn it all down for its unwillingness to bow to you!” Again, she was trembling. Again, her head reeled as the uncontrollable fire began to take hold of her mind.

“Just who do you think you are speaking to?” Upright hissed. The magic upon his horn emanated so powerfully that its aura sparked and hissed. His eyes no longer burned solely in blue. Somewhere in their cores were now two small suns.

The sight of him only poked at Adagio’s temper. As her self control waned, her horn began to glow in raspberry. “A wind-up automaton! A block of ice!” she cried. With her last shriek, she felt the grip on her temper fade, and suddenly the world flashed in red. Something inside of her chest began to waver and hum.

“A fool who, for his simplicity, shall pay a heavy price.”

Something had changed about her voice, but in the midsts of her rage she couldn’t decipher what. The walls echoed following a crack of orange lightning. Something hot burned its way so near to her hooves that smoke and ash rose up from the wood flooring just beyond them. That deep vibration within her core faltered making way for a more familiar sense of fear.

What the jewel was she doing? Had she completely lost her mind raging against Upright in this way?

Stop, Adagio. Have you gone mad? she bid herself until, at last, she regained her wits. She stood there exhausted and aching just before the study’s door, staring with terror into the Duke’s blazing eyes. “U… Upright...” she gasped.

The gleaming noblestallion stood frozen to his spot, more than willing to allow her the freedom to grovel. “Go on,” he bid her.

“I… Forgive me,” she finished. Bewildered and confused by her own boldness, she could manage nothing more than a low, off-kilter bow. She imagined that anypony who might have happened to gaze upon her at that particular moment would have judged her to be completely transparent. If the Duke would have chosen that minute to strike her down where she stood, even she would have had to admit that he would be correct in doing so.

Considering this, she turned about, and headed toward the door.

“‘Tell him, Your Grace. Tell him, or I shall’,” Upright said, mimicking Beryl’s tone. The glint and gleam of his enchanted aura faded away to nothing. He waited for the Duchess to face him once again, and smiled when she looked as if she might be sick. “That is what I heard within your telepathy spell. What is it that Beryl figured you should tell me?”

Adagio could no longer think straight to respond, too busy warding off the crushing urge to flee. “T-telepathy spell? And what telepathy spell would that be?” she stammered. Even her tone of voice betrayed her failing nerve. “I casted no spell, Your Grace. Perhaps the mare’s guilt was too strong. Perhaps she had rendered herself delusional.”

Another pause as the Duke inhaled deeply. Then, as if absolutely nothing spectacular had just taken place, he turned about, casually headed back toward the table, and took his seat. His hoof tapped against the wood surface. “The skies to the north grew clear this morning,” he said, oddly.

Adagio's brow furrowed as she wondered where this was going. “Y… yes, they did,” she replied. She was too proud to acknowledge what amount of selfishness it required to not have wondered after her sister and Edinbridle when she had seen it happen. “And what of—”

“Edinbridle has fallen. Vision is dead,” the Duke stated plainly.

For perhaps the fifth time that evening, Adagio's heart stopped. Her lips fumbled about for words as, increasingly, her mind drew a blank to spare her any further torment. “M...my sister…” she muttered. “Is my sister… Is she…”

“Your sister and six of her children have fled the Duchy,” Upright replied, refilling his glass of cider. “Her eldest son, Victor, remained to defend the land, and unfortunately, also perished. I was not to tell you any of this until the Duchess Vision’s whereabouts were confirmed. However, I thought that on this matter, your right to know outweighed the wishes of even the King, himself.”

Vindictively, Upright took another sip from his cup and gazed off through the open window. “You did have a right to know, Adagio,” he said, this time more so to himself. “And I, at least, can manage a bit of honesty on your behalf. It is a shame that you cannot do the same.”

Adagio's mind was spent. The sound of the world faded, and in its place grew a high pitched ringing that she couldn't help but imagine as the concentrated wailing of all the poor souls whose lives she had ruined—from Beryl, to Lila, to Lighthoof, to her sister, and her children. Everything before her eyes became a blur. Without saying a word, she turned about, and stumbled hoof over hoof toward the door. It seemed more and more that in every way, she had proven herself a disappointment, a liar, and a mare not to be trusted by those closest to her. Yet, even after acknowledging all of this to herself, she was still too fearful to tell the truth, to be honest and courageous and dependable for once in her life.

I am selfish and a coward. It is I who deserves that pit.

The darkness of the corridor stretched out before her. Quickly enough, she found herself wishing it would transform into a large, carnivorous mouth, one that, ideally, would swallow her whole. Closing her eyes, she stepped forward into the corridor, and soon disappeared around the bend.

The Duke, as usual, studied her every movement as he watched her go.
___

All was still. He sat there in the dark, brooding. Adagio had been gone just a few moments, and in light of this, Upright had decided that it might be pleasant enough to drink just one more glass of cider alone, then another, and another. After he was through, he casually turned his head to face the gaping window, and peered out onto the waxing moon. “I know you’re there,” he muttered into the darkness. The silence stretched on. His brow creased. “Enter now, and you may have what’s left of the drink.”

At once, there was a rumbling beyond the window, then the distinct sound of clacking hooves upon stone.

“Just a moment, you idiot! My tail is caught in your belt!” an irate, female voice hissed from beyond the sill.

“Apologies, Hummy, Love,” a stallion’s voice replied. “You know I can't refuse a complimentary drink.”

“Stop calling me thaAA—”

In through the window and onto the study’s ceiling walked an all too casual-looking Silent Wing. Dangling by her tail, which was currently caught in the stallion’s dagger-laden belt, was a mortified Echo Hum.

“‘Ello, Prince Charmin’!” Silent greeted the Duke, peering down at the half emptied bottle directly below his head. “Is all this for me, then?” His wings ruffled themselves. His hooves clattered joyfully upon the ceiling. “You must forgive our snooping. This town tends to get a bit boring. Must find some way to entertain ourselves when we’re quiescent, and well...” He shrugged. “You lot are an absolute cache of entertainment. In’t that right, Hummy?”

Echo, who in the meantime had been bouncing about wildly by the tail, came dangerously close to smacking her forehead directly into the Duke's frowning maw.

The Duke massaged his aching temples, and leaned away from the mare’s swinging body. “Anything yet?” he asked, ignoring Silent words.

“No,” the pair replied in tandem.

“At least not anyfing interesting,” Silent said.

“Soon, though. I'm quite sure of it,” Echo added, shoving her swinging mane out of her face. “A mare knows when another mare is trying far too desperately to keep a secret, and that one is keeping many.” She crossed her forelegs, and rested a hoof upon her chin. “There is certainly something elusive going on between her and that knight.”

“Oh, g’day to yooou, Sir Lighthoof. And how doth the morning find ye’? Oh, very weeell, M’lady, Graciousness, Mum. Not too hot nor cold, wouldn’t you agreee?” Silent tittered, mocking noble pomp before rolling his emerald eyes. “Those two have definitely gone at it behind a bramble bush or three, and not in the elusive way. More furious-like, I'd wager.”

“Neither of them make haste to confess it, I'm afraid,” Echo finished with a sigh. It took a moment for her to decipher the bruised and tortured aura that had befallen the Duke upon hearing their words. Her gaze softened, and she pressed a hoof against her breastplate. “Oh, dear. You love her still, don't you? How nauseatingly romantic!” She reached out to tap the Duke encouragingly upon his cheek. Instead, her body’s constant swinging forced her hoof directly into his muzzle. “Right. Buck up, then! You are a Duke, are you not? Plenty more like her to be had, is what I say!”

“Idunno, Hummy. Did you get a gander at those eyes whilst she was scolding ‘im?” Silent posed, trotting about the ceiling in a circle. “That mare, something ain’t right about her. Roiling up a nimbus worth of bloody lunacy, if you ask me.”

“Well, nopony did ask you, did they?” Echo quipped, her dangling body again coming to rest before the Duke’s nose.

Upright studied the ridiculous spectacle before him as both pegasi passed each other petulant frowns. Trading in foul suspicions for his own inner refuge of stoic dignity, he took a deep breath, and raised a brow in the mare’s direction. Ice blue promptly bore into cold silver. When all was said and done, it was Echo’s face alone that had turned a slight tinge of red.

“Well, it is hardly polite to stare,” she deadpanned, turning her head away. Snatching one of the blades from her hilt with her teeth, she propelled herself upward to slice away the trapped tip of her tail. Like a swan, she floated down to stand beside the Duke whilst dusting her black armor off. “Was there something else that you wanted from us? Otherwise, we shall be on our way.”

Silent landed at her side with a loud ‘THUD’. Licking his lips, he snatched up the opened cider bottle with one large, eager wing.

“Actually, there is,” the Duke replied, grimacing in the winged stallion's direction.

“It'll cost ye’ extra,” the two pegasi said in tandem, one nursing at his drink like a newborn foal, the other taking a step away from the first in disgust.

“And do try to make it somewhat entertaining,” Silent added.

Upright rolled his eyes. Again, he gazed beyond the study window. “There are a few small tasks I would like for you to complete. On their way to the countryside, as we speak, are two of my personal guard. I want you to stop them before they reach their destination.”

Like second nature, the noble managed to magically draw a blank sheet, a quill, and a miraculously untoppled inkwell from somewhere amongst his study’s wreckage. Levitating the objects onto the wooden surface before him, he then began to write. “Show them this, and bid them to return,” he said, raising the first leaf to Echo’s face. After a few moments, he flipped over onto the second. “Then I want you to fetch that maidservant away from her imprisonment down below. The rest of your orders are written clearly, I should think.”

Echo leaned in close. Her avian eyes pinned and flashed as she focused intently upon the words hovering before her nose. Silent Wing sat up behind her to take a look for himself. A strange clicking sound escaped their throats as, more and more, they were drawn into the document's words. By the end of the letter, two pairs of grand wings stood at attention. Devious smiles were exchanged.

“Got to admit, Princey, we had you pegged for a bit of a bore,” Silent chuckled, leaning back onto his wings to finish the dregs from his bottle. “Didn’t think you had it in you, quite frankly.”

Echo rounded about the Duke, grinning. Her tail licked across the noble stallion’s back.“Speak for yourself. I knew he couldn't be that great of a disappointment.” A pause. “Though it wouldn't hurt to hear you call for your dirty doings out loud.”

Flicking her tail about the Duke’s face, the white pegasus then headed for the gaping window. “Such a sweet, little earth mare, too. I believe I might have actually found something to enjoy in this forsaken lump of dirt you call a town.” She turned to face her partner, who was currently attempting to lick cider dregs from dry glass. “Come along then, Wing. Let us make haste before somepony else takes first crack at her.”

Standing in the moonlight’s cast, the mare’s unfurled ivory wings sparkled and shone as they prepared for flight. Before taking off, she turned to face the Duke one last time. “Just to be absolutely clear, exactly how much fun arewe permitted to have with her?” she inquired.

Silent Wing licked the cider from his lips, and nodded his head, also eager to know the answer. “No refunds for missin’ limbs, there, Princey.”

Put off by the pair’s delight in their own depravity, the Duke sneered, and turned his gaze away. “No permanent damage to her body,” he replied.

The mercenaries’ expressions decayed into half frowns.

“Otherwise, do with her as you please. Just make sure that she earnestly reveals to you everything that she hides from me,” the Duke finished.

The pair’s grins revived themselves. “And then some, Princey. You can be certain of that,” Silent chuckled, spreading his dark wings, and following his partner through the window.

Feathers caught the evening breeze. Two shadows briefly disturbed the moonlight, and disappeared off into the night. As the Duke watched them go, his eyes naturally drifted downward, and far out into Goldenstalks’ fields. There sat a lonely knight’s cozy, stone house.

Author's Note

Another extra long chapter for an extra long break. No better way to start the new year off than with way too much dark drama. If the tale reads a bit differently to you this time, it is because I'm trying a different writing technique. Have been reading more formally published fiction and learning how to order paragraphs along with quotes. At least in the standard sense. I'd like to hear thoughts on how it feels. Does it feel too jumbled? Let me know if I should go back to the usual spacing. ALSO:

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