Work Text:
“My third wish: Erazor Djinn! You shall live out the rest of time, trapped inside your lamp as you were in days of old!”
"Shahra. I know you're there! Please, stop him! We can start over, the two of us! I swear! I swear it! The world is mine! I cannot be denied by that filthy RAT! WHY?!"
The genie makes his plea to a woman who is no longer listening. The hedgehog takes the last laugh and the lamp is still, silent.
Sonic stares at his reflection in the warm metal, his hands and jaw trembling with the aftershocks of his rage, his hatred, his sadness.
… With an unceremonious flick of his wrist, the lamp clatters to the floor.
He sides off of the throne that isn't his and turns away to lean against its back, shutting his eyes and covering his muzzle with his hand. A few deep breaths, and he begins to feel like himself again.
Footsteps patter behind him, soft and hesitant. The ring on his finger grows warm again, in a way he hadn't noticed until it was gone.
His ear twitches towards the gentle echo of hollow metal near the lamp.
And then whimpering.
Sonic turns his head, looking at the carpet before the throne out of the corner of his eye. Shahra is on the floor with her back to him, clutching the lamp and clearly attempting to be quiet as she cries. He pins his ears back, taking a deep breath.
“Hey,” he starts, turning away from the throne and kneeling down beside her. She has the lamp clutched to her chest, almost tucked beneath her chin. “Hey, it's okay.”
Shahra sniffles, wiping at her nose with the back of her hand. “I-I am sorry, Sonic, I…” Her fingers curve over the lamp, nails scraping against the engravings. “I do not know why I am…”
He tries for a smile and stays silent, waiting for her to find her words. When she does, it's choked and unsteady. “... I loved him. I am… afraid to go on without him. When he called for me, I…” She laughs, quiet and bitter, “I wanted to believe him. I wanted so badly to think that he…”
“That he meant it?” Sonic asks, resting his arm on his knee.
“I still love him,” Shahra admits, “Even after what he's done. Is that… Is that foolish? After all this time, am I still his puppet?”
Sonic’s eyes soften, and he tips his head to the side. “It’s okay to be sad, Shahra. You loved him, even if it was a version of him that wasn't there, and now he's gone. ‘S no crime to grieve.”
Shahra’s mouth curves into a rueful smile all the same, and she lowers the lamp into her lap, staring at her reddened, tear-stained face.
Sonic looks at her, rather than her reflection, and hums. “... Say, Shahra. Would you grant me one last wish, please?” She startles and blinks up at him. Sonic looks away from her to stare at the ring, taking it between two fingers and twirling it back and forth. “I wish for a mountain of handkerchiefs.”
The glow of the ring comes and goes, and the white sheets drift into the room through the open windows, sailing on a gentle breeze. He reaches up to catch one as it sways by and hands it to her. “Here. Blow your nose.”
Still somewhat unsteady, Shahra puts down the lamp so she can take it in both hands. She does as he asks, but it's then too saturated to wipe her eyes with. So, Sonic plucks another from the floor. “Just let yourself cry, okay? As long as you need to.”
As she reaches to take the next cloth, he smiles warmly at her and makes a sweeping gesture to the room. There are hundreds of them, scattered about the floor, drifting through the skies outside. “You'll have plenty of handkerchiefs to help you through it.”
Shahra looks at him with wide, watery eyes, and begins to sob.