Made it. Adagio rapped on the door no harder than would be expected, of course. And when she looked around while waiting for it to be answered, it was with the appearance of boredom, rather than keeping a lookout. But she did allow herself the indulgence of a deeper-than-average breath, drawn slowly enough to be concealed, to try to collect herself. She was almost certain her reception wouldn’t be a terrible one. Almost.

She’d know for sure soon enough. The first few seconds would make it abundantly clear, just as soon as the door opened. Did it always take people this long to answer a knock? She wasn’t off-balance enough to interpret the wait as an indicator either way, but it didn’t help her nerves.

Her fretting, of which she knew there was still no outward sign, was interrupted at last by the sound of a lock turning, and then the door before her cracked open inwards.

Aria’s face appeared around the door, deep purple eyes Adagio had known her whole life. They, far more than the house Adagio stood outside, were the sign she was home. Aria stepped back behind the door, opening it wider in front of her, and Adagio channeled the reassurance of those familiar surroundings into crossing the threshold as a vessel of confidence, rather than something scurrying.

The living room was just as she’d left it the afternoon before, misinformed in its casual impression that nothing worthy of note had transpired during the hours in between, but nonetheless offering a welcome shelter from the outside world. Spinning to face Aria as the door clicked shut took more courage than Adagio would care to admit to herself. If betrayal was coming – not likely, she still thought, but right now even the tiny odds were terrifying – then she wouldn’t stand a fighting chance either way. But she’d face it, and with dignity.

Standing just a few inches from her, only one detail about Aria mattered at that moment: the red gem hanging around her neck. It shone, a beacon of raw power before which Adagio and her own bare neck were miniscule.

So captivated was Adagio that she barely noticed Aria’s hands flying up towards her. A moment later they were around behind her neck, and Adagio’s own gem touched her chest and she felt whole again, like the colour was flooding back into the world.

Adagio took a long, unsteady breath, as Aria tied the black silk ribbon behind her neck. It was ok. It was all ok.

The air inside was refreshingly cool after the scorching walk home in the midday sun, now she could relax enough to notice it. And for the first time since leaving the hotel, it crossed her mind that she was wearing the same dress as the night before, only now a little more creased and sweaty.

“So, how’d the undress rehearsal go?” Aria asked, stepping back.

Perhaps a couple of seconds too slow, Adagio heard herself snort, though it seemed distant. Aria had no doubt spent the last twelve hours thinking of the joke, to look clever and superior. She hadn’t had to leave the key to her power with someone else while on a mission out into the world alone.

Not trusting herself to give a steady answer quite yet from the relief and euphoria seeping through her, Adagio lowered herself to a white leather armchair and sank back into it. The air smelled of something being cooked. Sausages, maybe? Aria stuffed her hands in her pockets, but stayed on her feet. Adagio might have made something of the body language of that: having to look up at Aria from closer to the floor, as though submitting to the other’s dominance. Like snarling, that was one of those behaviours they hadn’t had to study to mimic, already being common to sirens, humans, and many other species.

Another day, Adagio might have acted to counter it. But right now, she didn’t care. She had her gem back, and therefore all the power she needed.

“Better than even I had expected,” she said. ‘It sounds like a buzzkill we’re better off chasing away’ played through her head again, a moment she knew would stay with her. A human she’d actually been able to relate to? Perhaps even to respect? None of them had seen that coming.

After pursing her lips, she continued, “I don’t think she ever doubted I was born human, in this world. The conversation, the non-verbal cues, the knowledge of worldly things, it all passed the test.” The human behaviours were becoming more automatic by the day, in fact, like how that lip-pursing had been an unprompted response.

“There was one unfamiliar term,” she frowned, “a ‘Wonderbolt’ – I’m still not sure exactly what they do, but I figured out enough from context clues to get by.”

“We can look it up later,” Aria dismissed with a casual shrug – an encouraging sign; she was finding human gestures more ingrained, too. “Ok, part one’s good then: we can pass. And part two? None of it’s much use if we can’t actually achieve anything with it.”

Crossing one leg over the other where she sat, Adagio allowed herself a smirk. “Part two’s good. The human expression would be that I had her eating from the palm of my hand. We can emulate them well enough to manipulate them.”

For a couple of seconds, Aria just gave a weighing look, like she could somehow assess that judgement herself from only Adagio’s three sentences. “Good. I’d hate for all our researching – six months solid, day and night – to have been for nothing.”

Such doubt, as ever. Couldn’t just trust that maybe Adagio knew what she was doing. “I was able to try a few different approaches over the evening, and evaluate their success. Intimidation, comradeship, pushing buttons,” – Adagio ticked them off in order on her fingers – “self-depreciation, active listening, hot-blooded eagerness, even vulnerability.” She’d certainly never planned to reveal the details of her nightmare to her target, but the opportunity had been too perfect to pass up.

And it had also felt… freeing, in a way? She wouldn’t burden Aria or Sonata with talk of her dreams, not when they had their own trauma from the event to deal with. But she was glad she’d been able to be truthful with Spitfire about it. To connect with her honestly on that level, for just a moment.

“What did you learn?” Aria asked in a neutral voice, leaning back against the wall.

That not every human was as far from siren sensibilities as the three of them had previously thought? Quite the revolutionary idea. And it led to an even greater one: that being stuck on this miserable planet might not have to mean being stuck with only each other for meaningful company.

It was a stretch, of course. One human, amongst all those they’d encountered or studied. One who she’d most likely never see again, no less. The rest of the humans were probably just as bad as they’d believed.

But if it had happened once, it could happen again. ‘You’ve opened up possibilities I didn’t realise I had,’ Spitfire had said. Hmmmm.

“Blushing is harder to force than you might expect,” Adagio said, leaving her musings on humanity maybe not being entirely inadequate to be voiced another time. What next? “Even expensive whiskey tastes revolting, and its effects take concentration to counter.” That one probably wouldn’t be so useful. “People will tell you all about themselves if you show you’re listening.”

For infiltration, that might be the most vital lesson of them all. She’d hardly had to prompt Spitfire at all on the way back to the hotel, and still received a whole family history. And Adagio hadn’t had to reveal anything of herself in the process.

The walk back, though, reminded her…

“Walking through a city park late at night with no amulet is petrifying.” She didn’t ever want to go through that again, and couldn’t help but shudder. So powerless, so reliant on numbers for safety. Only her quick thinking had cut through that horror and let her pass it off as reluctance to face the rain.

An added bonus to that, supplied by even quicker thinking, was suggesting she could laugh at herself, because Spitfire had opened up more the more companionable Adagio had become. “Physical desire gets you in, but it doesn’t so much bind people to you. Laughter bonds, as do shared frustrations and weaknesses.”

At last Aria lifted her head from her position of listening while staring at the floor. “Just how bonded are we talking?”

Leaning right back in her chair, Adagio gazed up at the ceiling. “Buying drinks,” she said softly, “jeopardising careers,” because Spitfire hadn’t been wrong about reputations in the press, “breaking the law,” she’d considered stealing the car for a minute, Adagio was sure, “sharing a bed,” and being trusted alone in the hotel suite the morning after, “falling in love.”

“In one night?” Aria crossed her arms across her chest, but she also raised an eyebrow. “Not bad.”

“You should see what I could do given a week.”

Before Aria had a chance to respond, Sonata’s voice chirped from the kitchen doorway. “What was her name?”

A glance showed Sonata hovering there in an apron, casting furtive looks back into the kitchen, where, the sizzling sounds suggested, something was being fried. Yes, sausages, Adagio confirmed to herself.

Now she thought about it, she realised she was famished, having foregone breakfast to get home. Time for that soon enough.

“Spitfire.” It wasn’t often a human’s name was worth remembering after Adagio had got whatever she wanted from them. She didn’t think she’d be forgetting Spitfire’s in a hurry, though.

“Ooh, she sounds hot!”

It wasn’t like Adagio picking someone who wasn’t beautiful had ever been a realistic option, but… “She definitely was.” Enough to be stared at on public transport, apparently. What blind monster would have been rude enough not to stare?

Sonata bounced happily on the spot, even clapping her hands a few times in front of her. That she had connected with some human media enough to learn from it was a relief, but slight distaste remained Adagio’s reaction to it being those strange Nipponese cartoons. “And did you like her?”

Seeing humans as people wasn’t in their interest for the immediate future, and Sonata wasn’t one suited to understanding the subtleties of when such things were wise and when not. But Adagio preferred not to outright lie to the other two, because the fallout if the truth emerged wasn’t worth it unless absolutely necessary.

Still though, giving Sonata an honest answer was a risk. “I won’t say I didn’t.” And if both their circumstances had been wildly, unfathomably different, then seeing Spitfire again would have been interesting to pursue.

Sonata gave her a smile with sparkling eyes, rocking on her heels before dashing off into the kitchen again without another word.

With a final irritated glance in that direction, Aria turned back to Adagio. “How did it end, after last night?”

“She left Canterlot. I woke this morning to find a letter.” Engineering exit strategies in one’s sleep? Truly the height of efficiency. Adagio buffed her nails on her dress, though actually the dress probably needed it more.

Aria’s eyes narrowed, calculating. That one was definitely a native siren expression. “You came on too strong, and drove her away?” It was barely a question.

“I pitched it just right,” Adagio scoffed, “and she fell for me.” She rolled her eyes. “That’s what drove her away.”

Interestingly, it was vulnerability that had tipped the balance, Adagio was mostly convinced. It made sense: all the other activities of the evening had been Spitfire in her usual role, fitting with how she saw herself, even if being pulled in new directions. Whereas bringing out a protective instinct had put her in a new role, one she saw as incompatible and retreated from. It did make sense. But still, showing vulnerability had been the overstep that broke it. Adagio would not forget that.

“So,” she concluded, “providing our targets aren’t so successful being single that they’re living their dream, we should be fine.” Spitfire being unique in that respect was improbable, but, from everything they’d previously observed of humans, she was at least rare.

Aria was keeping her eyes on the floor, smirking. “If you say so.”

After giving Aria a glare, Adagio continued. “And it’s better all round this way. She thinks she ended it, so there are no hanging threads.” According to most of their research, the spurner moved on with their life while the spurned dwelled on the past and often sought to rekindle the relationship. In this instance, that meant Spitfire focused elsewhere, leaving Adagio free to move forwards unencumbered by the need to continually check over her shoulder.

And parting ways in the manner they had was no doubt better for Spitfire’s self-esteem, too, which wasn’t an unpleasant thought. Adagio had no wish to hurt someone whose company she’d enjoyed, someone she hoped would go on to succeed with those values they shared. So Spitfire would live her life thinking she’d been in control of their parting, finishing things on her terms, and would never know it was an outcome she’d been pushed into, or how Adagio would have kept pushing until something else made Spitfire snap even if this hadn’t. Winning had been important to Spitfire, and Adagio had no issue with letting her go on believing she’d won.

A deep satisfaction, the kind that only achieving the most successful and complete level of manipulation could bring, coursed through Adagio as she sighed. “I don’t think she ever realised she was in a narrative that wasn’t her own.” Many celebrities wouldn’t, perhaps, being used to every conversation being about themselves.

It probably wasn’t so flattering to learn that you were the could-have-been-anyone experimental subject of a ‘first attempt at seduction’ test for a new body.

A dark, throaty cackle emerged from Aria’s mouth, reminding Adagio that, for all their disagreements, Aria was just as much of a siren as she. Even Sonata would have laughed gleefully at that deft and undetected a twisting of people and events.

“Ok,” Aria said once her mirth had died down, though it still lit her eyes. “That’s it then? We’re good to go?”

Six months of planning, research and training. All coming down to this question. Adagio drew a deep breath, not due to nerves, but to savour the moment. “We are. We move on Canterlot High School in three days.”

At once, the room relaxed. Aria slouched towards the nearest couch and collapsed onto it, as if tension alone had been holding her upright. Adagio remembered her conversation the night before about magic words and their real-world effects, marvelling at the effect on herself, too. For the first time since being home, she noticed the bright colours of the flowers blooming outside the front window, and felt the coolness of the leather against her skin. And while that openness also let in how she and her dress both still smelled of sweat, she could hardly make it out over the thick scent of sausages filling the air.

All the same, if that business was concluded, then it was high time she went upstairs and got changed. Lunch would serve as an impromptu celebration of them being ready to embark on the next step of their plan for capturing Equestrian magic, and Adagio was going to look presentable for it.

She dragged herself to her feet, pausing after standing to stretch her arms above her head. She even let herself yawn openly, since Aria would hardly care. Then she wandered over towards the staircase in the corner of the room, boots silent on the fluffy white carpet. Only when she reached the stairs did she hear Aria’s voice from behind her.

“When did you know?”

One hand already on the ornate bannister, Adagio turned back to Aria. “Hm?”

It was hard to tell if the look on Aria’s face was thoughtful or merely idly curious. Her sprawl across the couch suggested the latter, but her tone the former. “The girl last night. Without magic, you couldn’t have checked your hold on her, so, when did you know? That she was,” Aria rolled her eyes, “you know…”

“Mine for the taking?”

Aria nodded.

Adagio grinned.

“When I walked in the room.”

Author's Notes:

It's a song.

If Adagio someday imagined how Spitfire must have felt through their night together, and crafted that into a song, it'd sound like this.