Songbird Serenade.
What did that name mean to the creatures of Equestria?
Happiness? Excitement? Mystery?
For the thousands of fans across the land, it meant a reprieve from their daily lives, to lose themselves within the soft dulcet vocals of one of the strangest mares of this generation. The day of a postmare or an office worker became that much more bearable when listening to her music hooked on their belts, gem-players spinning the audio into waiting ears.
One could see the joy her music brought, it commonly made young colts and fillies dance and sing along with jubilation, their parents smiling as the words had hidden depth they'd one day understand better. Even an elderly executive or two might hear one of her songs and hum along contentedly, thinking that not all music of this younger generation was bad.
For others, she brought astonishment and admiration, shock at her extreme success if not outright awe. Her music career was a roaring triumph, she was in point of fact the most successful popstar within the last decade, having sold well over five-hundred thousand copies of her latest album alone. A massive feat for any singer that worked without a record label, which added to people's continued amazement at her tenacity, the sheer might of how she placed herself into her work and never focused on anything but the music.
How could she be so well received?
Some said it was her deep empathy, or perhaps her kindness. She never shouted at anyone, never seemed to get angry. No interviews from her had ever seen her raise her voice to be heard over others, not even when shouted over herself. She simply waited, unendingly patient. She was polite and meek when faced with things greater than herself, humble, in a word. She showed off sometimes for the camera, as any popstar was wont to do, but never did overstay her welcome and she was always gone before long, not tending to do autographs unless she felt she wasn't imposing, and making people only want more from her.
The paparazzi and smear merchants lurked under the despicable surface of tabloid journalism of course, always looking for some large hit piece to take her down a peg and rake in the bits by revealing her darkest secrets, they desperately wanted to find her dirty laundry and air it before the world. But try as they might they could never find a bad word to be said about her, no incidents of her past could be brought to light because no evil dwelled in her shadow. Her closet was bare and free of any skeletons or ghosts, and she was always honest and forthcoming when asked just about anything. She was an orphan, brought to success from her brilliant ability to sing and connect with others, and she'd grown from there.
It upset them, because no one could be so perfect.
The Princesses all had their vices to run small pieces on every now and then, and the daily struggles they endured simply meant that it became a fact that they would put a hoof wrong sooner or later for the press to publish on the front page in high definition.
But not Songbird Serenade.
To be so perfect, must have been bliss.
"You're on stage in ten!" Her manager shouted through the door after two polite knocks, the mare's voice perfectly crisp to her ears. "Good luck, S!"
"I'll need it!" She shouted back with apparent cheer in her tone, hearing the mare leave with a chuckle at the common line. Once the hoofsteps had faded away, she swivelled her head back to the mirror, peering into its open face with a sad smile as her tone grew sombre. "I appreciate it."
She traced the contours of her dainty snout, the crazily layered two-tone mop of black and gold as it hung high over her head and down into her line of sight that most thought was a wig, the smooth brushed pale cream of her glossy coat, big fluffy ears atop her head and preened wings at her sides... but she didn't meet her own eyes. She didn't like looking within those gloomy depths, otherwise she saw too much of herself.
Her vibrant pink bow was absent today, in favour of one that was a deep midnight-purple, accompanying her outfit for this evening. It was an elegant long leather dress coat as one might wear in the winter, but thankfully not as woolly and warm thanks to the absence of a fur lining. Leather was something of an oddity to her, taken mainly from reptiles out east and treated to be as supple as fabric. It was so commonplace now that she barely noticed it anymore when others wore it, but it always caught her anew with slight surprise when the material was hers to wear.
She shuffled it on with little fuss, humming a positive tune while her wings did up the golden buttons, and without thinking too hard she simultaneously reached for the purple bow.
It floated within a bright golden aura.
She caught sight of it and gasped in shock at the distressing sight, the large bow quickly dropping back onto the vanity table as the magic surrounding it immediately winked out and dissipated into wisps of arcane energy.
No! No no no no! Why?! Why now?!
A cold knot formed in her stomach as fear blossomed within her chest, her heart thundering against her ribcage. She felt sick, that shouldn't have happened, not again. She'd had it under control for so, so long, and yet just something as simple at this, without even noticing the warmth of magic, and she'd slipped up. What if it had happened during an interview? What if it had been an interview with one of the Princesses?
No one could know.
A shaky hoof travelled upwards slowly, the soft frog of her hoof brushing something pointed and spiral-ridged, solid to the touch. It disturbed her that her horn was so obvious, and yet with a little clever positioning of her mane no one had ever noticed it. She'd never needed to try wrapping it around with something and tying it into her mane, it was just always perfectly hidden. Her mane had always been wild and concealed it from view, but a breeze of wind or a flip of her mane, flying upside down, and it would be revealed. So she turned her mane into a job, of constantly keeping it gelled and styled, brushed just so and blow-dried, treating and layering it carefully until it had become the iconic mane that ponies recognised from a distance.
Even the two-tone was a subtle illusion, tricking the eyes into looking at one side or the other, and any possible glimpse of anything remotely horn-like between was blended beneath cast shadow and layered walls. It was all smoke and mirrors, a deception to keep herself safe. She ignored the growing pressure in the back of her mind and pushed it down, waving away the dark thoughts that came unbidden. Don't ever engage them, they would take from her endlessly until she had nothing to give. Think positively and ignore the whispering, it lessened its strength.
"Merciful Celestia, please take me away." She hummed quietly to herself, a low mantra to centre herself in trying times. "I will close my eyes and my heart, and become a stone. Please make me a stone."
She repeated the intonation a few more times and took deep breaths to calm her frazzled nerves. She'd stopped herself from having a panic attack at the least, and her heartbeat was slowing. This was an isolated incident, a simple slip of the hoof was all. It would not happen again. She hadn't screwed up like this for over two years, she could easily make it longer before she did so again, because it wouldn't ever happen again! Put on a smile and sing, the night is young and so many happy faces await.
The dark thoughts tried to encroach again, but she forced them back. She imagined those young colts and fillies beaming, and how much she would improve their days and their lives just by performing for them. Positivity and a happy mind weakened the looming darkness that crept all around her, she couldn't ever let it take hold. It lurked at the corners of her vision, always lurking and waiting, whispering its hate in her ears. She refused to look back into the mirror, it would be crawling up the frame and skulking around the edges, trying to get her to fall in by staring into her own depths. She froze as it gently knocked against the glass, she didn't dare look at it.
It was seeping in, bleeding into her vision and threatening to consume, hissing in her ears and promising pain. She got like this every so often, yet never usually this fast, this was her little magical mishap spiking it into action tenfold, and it knew to use her own worries and fears against her. What might happen if people knew? The torrent of attention she got would be exacerbated, and the same negative people that tried to cause the Princesses distress and turn public opinion against them would all come for her as the easier target. What if she was declared unnatural? She hadn't ascended or come from royal lineage, she'd be locked away and never allowed to sing again. All her fears were being brought to life as the spectre loomed around her. There was no winning against such horrendous energy, it could only be held off and delayed.
She snatched the large purple bow off the desk with one wing and quickly affixed it around her head, carefully placing it at the back and wrapping it under her fringed mop, securely around her eyes. She held back her relieved gasp as it held there, mercifully plunging her into the abyss. She would be safe for now. She adored her bows, and it was something else that no one ever seemed to notice when she was out in public; that her eyes were always covered not just by her mane, but by the thick ribbon of her headpieces as well.
Without being able to see, she saw better than she ever did. It was insane that blinding herself allowed whole new realities to open up, and the deeper meanings of things revealed to her, but that was just how she was. When she closed her eyes to the world she felt everything and saw life. She saw so much pain, so much sadness and upset. There were good feelings too, although they were always overshadowed by the overwhelming negativity in everyone's daily lives, and the darkness simply languished in their shadows so it could feast.
It was why she wanted to make them happy. She'd decided from a young age, from her own suffering and torment, that if she had to anguish in her prison that something far more pleasant should come of it. When she gazed into the endless void of sadness that was an abused child's mind, she only wanted to save them as best she could.
The bow was near celestial for her, and she never left without it. Closing her eyes would have worked all the same, however that meant she might accidentally open them at the worst point, so it ensured she'd never open her eyes when the disturbing aura completely surrounded her and made her revel in her tormented thoughts. Letting the bow shroud her in darkness was an extremely comforting safety net.
But this too was an issue, as in doing this she only hid herself from the darkness within itself, and allowed herself to be encircled. It was a never ending battle. Look at it and be consumed, or hide with it and be consumed just a little bit slower. There was never any true peace, and only a temporary reprieve, as for reasons beyond her comprehension; in its confines it could not find her. Its own domain was her camouflage, yet, again; it never lasted for long.
She used to feel so safe as a filly when wrapping the ribbon around her eyes, so assured that the creeping shadows couldn't see her if she couldn't see them. And it had worked well, for many years it had worked while the dark thrashed around looking for her, promising her hurt without end, hunting her like a sick game of hide and seek. She'd slept in relative safety, never dreaming but at least resting while it could only bumble around and offer threats. Only one day it had finally evolved, and learned to successfully hunt her.
It would scream.
It would scream and wail, and screech in anger. Its whispering would begin as a low droning eeriness that scratched at the back of the skull, and increase until it reached a fever-pitch, horrendously wailing an incessant and unending terrible pitch of pure despair and hatred that danced through her core and came to life, illuminating her like a beacon and stripping her soul bare to its malevolence.
Then it would torture her.
Her parents had never been around, and she'd simply been alone in the streets and dirty alleys. Strangers would investigate the blood-curdling screams of a filly and find her cut up, as if she'd taken a knife to her own flesh. They would try to help her and offer soothing words, often trying to take her to a hospital, but they wouldn't believe her when she said the wounds weren't self-inflicted. Why would they? She ran, leaving them behind so they didn't have to be involved.
She couldn't tell them about the evil entity that harmed her, because then it would consume them too. She'd noticed with a solemnly profound realisation quite early on that it only had eyes for her. Yes, it would have a veritable banquet of suffering from others' lives, and it readily took everything that it could at all times, yet it had never actually attacked other people directly. It was as if every other creature was within a protective bubble, and it would stalk up and eat their fears, meander around and smash against their defences trying for more, only to then give up and hunt elsewhere for other scraps, and then always come back to the only one that it could sink its wicked claws into.
She knew that if she told someone, anyone about it, that it would jump into them too. The feeling was an uncomfortable spike deep within her core that informed her that was the case, an overwhelming instinct that she felt when she saw people's pain and anguish. To confide in them of the things existence would be to breach their protection, corrupting with but the smallest of holes, and it would be completely capable of slipping in and torturing them as well.
For Celestia's sake, quite literally, she couldn't even talk to another Alicorn about it. If it caused her such pain and misery how could she ever dare to inflict such a curse upon one of the Princesses? She was thankful that she didn't dream, because otherwise Luna would have known. Twilight and Cadence were just as kind and gentle, and they all were better Ponies than her in every way imaginable. They might be able to shoulder the burden too, however there was no sense in it. Why make them hurt at all?
Her conscience wouldn't allow that. If only she should suffer its wrath that everyone else is kept safe from the entity's malignant curse, then she would bear it alone.
And she had, for so long that she nearly broke. But like the darkness that learned to hunt her, she'd adapted too. She learned the only way to fight its endless infernal voice, and the only way to hide herself back in the gloom of its domain, was to sing as loudly as possible in return to its seething. She'd learned that the moments where she laughed or smiled genuinely, as rare as they were, they had given it pause and lessened its choir. She'd utilised it, learning that joy and positivity harmed the darkness, and that happiness was its poison. When she sang along with her audience she would be revealed in a bright flourish, and without fail it would always attempt to swoop in and cut her down, but it couldn't touch her as people's overwhelming love kept its spite from approaching, leaving it tear at the edges like a beast held back by a mountain of flame. When she sang with everything she had and the positivity flowed through the crowd, it would finally kill the dark, and they all became free of its influence.
Positivity killed the darkness. Singing killed the voices.
It was the price of being an Empath. She hated it, she never asked for it, she'd simply just been born this way with this body and this ability. Still she accepted the burden as it allowed her to help people. She refused to let it make her bitter, and allow it to destroy her soul. Everyday she woke up was a day she could save another with her music. She didn't have great powers like the other Alicorns, all she could do was sing, and it had to be enough.
Making sure her hair was neat and the bow was secure, she slipped her hooves into some boots that had been presented with the outfit, taking a deep breath and doing her best to relax. It gnashed around her, softly hinting at the horrors it would visit upon her when it found her again, and she put it to the back of her mind along with it's drawn out keening.
Time for the concert.
The soft push of her booted hooves against the carpet was everything she focused on as she left her private room and went down the halls, making kind faces to the staff of the venue as they passed her by. She saw their hopes and fears, their elation at being around her and their well wishing for her show to go perfectly. Their souls glowed in her vision, alight with positivity, and outweighing anything bad in their moments of joy. It was making the dark annoyed that there was so little to eat, it was getting impatient in its hunt.
But the second she stepped out onto the stage and heard the chanting of her name, it recoiled from the sheer jubilation of the event. She saw hundreds of souls absolutely blinding in their brilliance, glowing alight with naught but pure excitement and anticipation swirling around them. Each one was a small sun in their intensity, and against such fervour how could the darkness compete? It grew more unsettled as she started to cheerfully speak out and welcome everyone, truly thanking them for their attendance, and it braced itself and roared in anger as she started to begin her performance for the crowd.
She hit a high note halfway through her second song, when she blazed her brightest that day, and as she'd known the chill had travelled up her spine as the darkness lunged to snuff it out, yet each time she held strong in the solid unshakable belief that it would not scratch her. She let the young colts and fillies delight wash over her as she kept the note high, the song's zenith that led everyone to a euphoric state.
The darkness never got within a hoof's distance.
Driving on, she threw herself into the performance just as hard as any time before, consigning the entity to nothing as she lost herself to the music, her dancers performing so admirably along with her. It wasn't until the song ended with the crowd's ecstasy hitting her like a train, her heart hammering in her chest and feeling like it was going to burst from her glee, that she looked around her and saw no signs of the looming creature. She'd done it.
She always shed a few tears during a concert, but not for the reasons people thought. It was only thanks to those that loved her that her worries could be allayed and her energy shared, for without them she was nothing. She saw a filly in the crowd jumping with vivacity, the young girl's eyes shining with such mirth. Her soul was a flaring inferno of light, the hurt she felt within buried deeply and forgotten in this wonderous moment she would treasure and draw strength from.
While she could do nothing at this second to heal her wounds, and make her father pay for what he'd done to her, she could at least offer the filly this small token of her appreciation. When she said her thanks to the crowd, she really did mean it in earnest. There were a few here tonight that were in a similar position as the filly, she'd get her manager to invite them backstage from a 'random' draw later on in the concert, and hopefully give them more pleasant memories for the future trials after passing their names onto social services.
Until then, she let the music flow, and the next song came.
By the time the concert had drawn to a close the music had ended, and the crowd mostly dispersing with their souls positively radiating, and she was starting to feel a little tired. She had a few minutes she could spare for autographs, more small tokens of her love that would be cared for, however she needed to go back soon. The children had come and gone during the break in the event, and she adored their little smiling faces as they told her how much she made them happy, listening to their wishes for the future. She knew what they were going to say, but it didn't mean it wasn't fun to hear it in their own words.
It sustained her until she got back to her private room.
No sooner had it all stopped that the darkness crawled in under the door, leeching from the corners of the room. It was nothing but sickly wisps right now, but the sadness she felt in her chest at its presence was commonplace as it always came back. She had no greater passion for life as when she was singing on stage, and she knew it had to come to an end. The doubts and fears returned and the shadows built back up slowly, like a small fire that slowly spread and choked everything with the heavy smoke.
But it was fine.
She knew she would be fine.
She removed the bow, properly opening herself again to the world and looking at the beaten-down ragged mare in the mirror. Her eyes were hollow and listless, her coat and mane rather dull. Yet, within the reflection of her soul the mare in the mirror smiled back. There was a small iridescent mote in there, of pride and bliss that the darkness could never swallow, and she could only bear to see it after a show when the monster was still reforming. Her smile was defiant in the face of horror, even as a lurching tendril erratically tapped on the mirror to get her attention.
"You'll never win." She whispered.
The dark vowed it would.
Their endless battle resumed.
Author's Note
I put this together on a whim, in that I simply adore the idea that there's a horn hiding under that massive mane of hers, and that Songbird Serenade hiding her eyes is really a cover for something far darker.
Because hiding eyes is sexy, but I made this story, so it has to be dark.
I originally toyed with the idea that she'd cut her eyes out, but that was a bit too close to another of my stories, so I passed that idea by. 
