Pearl is without blame.
Pearl is the only one without blame.
Except, perhaps, Amethyst. The court has yet to rule on her case: Amethyst is a gem delayed in emerging from her kindergarten hole due to poor design, knowing nothing but earthly life, yet still following her diamond. There is hope for her.
For Garnet—
flinch
For Ruby and Sapphire—
Pearl hasn't stopped crying since the earth was finally, utterly, lost. Humans led short, useless, bewildered lives, but they were still living creatures. She'd even come to care about some of them. And there were fish and birds and flowers, and yes, they were messy and unkempt, but they were so vibrant and her diamond had loved them so, like a child playing with a doll house.
Now Pearl lies in a chamber barely large enough for her to stand, nestled in an open oyster shell. She was born in a room like this, manufactured over centuries, and she has been dropped back into her music box to wait. Silent, motionless, she stares across the high towers of homeworld at White Diamond, waiting to catch a glimpse of Pink Diamond.
Interminable waiting. Endless. Maddening. She waits for the screams in her head to soften and fade as she waits for a glimpse of her diamond. She isn't sure how Pink Diamond will change things, but she thinks she must.
After all, Pink Diamond had loved her once.
The first day she'd been brought to Pink Diamond, revealed within her flawless shell, Pearl had made a deep curtsy, eyes lowered, breathlessly eager to serve. She'd trembled, selected from a row of the best pearls by Yellow Diamond as a gift, welling up with ecstasy over being chosen by such a magnificent gem, and there was no tremor in her step even as Yellow Diamond held her shell in a hand strong enough to crush her, no hesitation in Pearl's eyes as she was presented to her diamond.
But Pink Diamond was so...sad. Pink Diamond had side-eyed her, nodded her acceptance of Yellow Diamond's gift and continued to stare out of the viewing screen into the vast emptiness of space. Pearl had frozen, holding her curtsy awkwardly, waiting for a command to stand, to move, to do anything.
Yellow Diamond's personal pearl had snickered once, pitched so only Pearl would hear it.
Was her diamond...broken? Had she been given to a broken gem? Could diamonds even be broken?
"Pink Diamond's pearl," Yellow Diamond had said. "Dance. My pearl, sing something she can dance to."
Pearl was so confused and so relieved to be given a command that she forgot to thank Yellow Diamond. With her gaze solely on Pink Diamond, she raised her arms and turned in place, slowly at first, then sliding into the rhythm that she was given. At least Yellow Diamond's pearl was obedient, and Pearl followed her soft melody and low notes into a gentle ballet in Yellow Diamond's hand.
Pink Diamond did not watch, did not even glance at her. Pearl did not stop—every move was precise despite their rounded edges, every step measured and accurate. And when Pink Diamond did glance out of the corner of her eye, the tiny tilt of Pearl's slippered and ribboned foot brought her gaze up along her leg in its raised arabesque, the pivot of Pearl's hip, flowing with her arm up to Pearl's gaze.
Pearl danced, the song continued, and Pink Diamond sat up straight and watched, her eyes widening as Pearl performed. Not a step repeated, every move fluid, a dance worthy of a diamond. If Pearl would have looked up, she would have seen Yellow Diamond's rare satisfaction.
"Is that what pearls do?" Pink Diamond asked, coming closer.
"She will do whatever you wish," Yellow Diamond said. She'd knelt and tilted her hand, letting Pearl dance down to the floor, and the ballet faded into a formal curtsy, one leg swept back, her head bowed deep.
Pink Diamond had stared silently for a long moment, absorbing this first taste of power over her own gem. She knew this gift for what it was—a test, a challenge to properly behave like a diamond, to satisfy Yellow Diamond that she could command despite being so young.
Though if she had looked up, she would have seen no test, only Yellow Diamond's relief in the simple acceptance of her gift.
"Would you dance again?" Pink Diamond asked her newest possession.
"I would be honored, my diamond," Pearl said, her relief finding expression in her dance, continuing long after Yellow Diamond had left with her own pearl, moving to her own inner music, pausing obediently when Pink Diamond insisted on finding obsidians—"the ones that look like snowflakes, it has to be those!"
To the tune of chimes and strings played by a dozen snowflake obsidians, Pearl danced.
When Blue Diamond called and told Pink Diamond in no uncertain terms that it was now time for her fencing lessons, Pink Diamond had sighed and dismissed the musicians and trudged to the royal training yard, hanging her head the whole way. She ignored her fencing quartz's instructions on the basic steps and fumbled through the lesson, imagining instead her pearl dancing to her favorite song.
Not until after practice, when a cluster of sapphire courtiers complimented her choice of fancy accessory, did she notice Pearl keeping pace at her heels. Pearl held her sword in its sheath, carrying it as if she had been crafted solely for displaying it as a work of art.
Pearl still holds Pink Diamond's sword within herself. Sometimes, when she can see through her tears, she withdraws it and joins it fluidly with her dance. She will see Pink Diamond again, and she must stay in good practice for her.
And Steven—
When Pearl thinks of him, she resheathes the sword within herself like the galaxy's gentlest suicide.
At her trial, surrounded by red and blue dust, two rubies had struggled to restrain Pearl from shattering herself, holding her from digging her fingers into the long crack down the middle. As her memories were revealed and her crimes enumerated, she'd sobbed until commanded to stay silent. Her tears hadn't stopped falling, coating the floor luminous with a pearlescent sheen.
The zircon had been merciless in listing Pearl's failures.
"This pearl, this renegade, encouraged her diamond to run away—"
"—gave her the idea of looking like a common jasper—"
"—followed her into battle against Homeworld—"
"—committed the abomination of fusion with a diamond—"
Pearl went limp somewhere in the middle of the prosecution, no longer struggling against the rubies but instead lying prone amidst sparkling dust. The rubies holding her couldn't pay attention to the accusations as they focused on holding up a pearl no less beautiful for weeping.
"Are you implying that a diamond can ever be considered an abomination?"
Sitting at the tribunal, Blue Diamond brought a swift halt to the zircon's speech. The warning in her voice was like a sharp chisel against her gem.
"This pearl," Yellow Diamond said from her own seat, "followed her diamond's commands in letter and spirit, no matter how unorthodox, and gave her full measure of loyalty, obeying her commands even after Pink's...unusual transformation."
Yellow Diamond stood and came closer, tall enough to crush Pearl beneath her boot as she had done to so many other gems. But instead she had scooped Pearl up in one hand, her face softening for one instant. Pearl lay in a heap, her tangle of limbs catching the light just so, exquisite in her dishevelment. Her frozen eyes stared at the empty distance where White Diamond ruled.
"I chose well," Yellow Diamond said to her gathered court. "This pearl is blameless. A model of devotion to her master. You should all seek to follow her example."
A flurry of salutes followed, a chorus of "yes, my diamond."
Pearl wasn't aware of being carried in a palanquin, or of being set down in the small chambers meant for an ungifted pearl. Faint traces of red and blue dust clung to the diamond's hand that held her, and as she was set down, the glimmer of rubies and sapphires floated down around her, coloring the floor with sparkles that only she was small enough to see.
She lay in a cupped shell on a soft mollusk, the rare organic creature inside tended by common calcium carbonates. She doesn't move. Over years, its nacre began to smooth over the scratches she'd suffered on earth.
Pearl dreams of dancing, a crystal blade in her hand.
Pink Diamond did not enjoy learning the basic steps of fencing and wanted to learn the flourishes first. Her quartz teacher tried not to show her exasperation, but Pearl watched by the side of the mat, dutifully holding Pink Diamond's sheath, learning the steps as if watching a new dance, startled when her diamond cried out and sent the quartz away.
"This is boring!" Pink Diamond had dropped the sword on the floor and gone to pout at the window, watching the stars. "What do I need to learn fencing for? I have jaspers and rubies and emeralds..."
Only one thing lifted her diamond's sulks, Pearl had learned. She hid the sheath within herself and began her dance, and as she moved, she gracefully swooped up the blade and used it as a prop. Pearls are forbidden from using weaponry, but in Pearl's hands, this sword wasn't a weapon—it was no more than a ribbon, a baton, a sparkling toy to accentuate her dance.
But she could not help but add some of the fencing steps to her ever expanding repetoire, and Pink Diamond noticed. Watched attentively.
During the next fencing lesson, the quartz was scandalized as a bewildered Pearl was brought along by her diamond as a second student. Pearl couldn't even bring herself to meet the quartz's gaze, and she made no argument at all the very good reasons why she shouldn't be standing there.
"She is a mere pearl—she is not allowed to learn this—she is too frail, too delicate—she may damage herself just by practice—my diamond, it is simply not done!"
Pink Diamond agreed that Pearl would stop if she could not keep up with the lessons. The agate increased the pace and difficulty simply to drive Pearl out, then discovered that Pearl's diligence in dance made the little slave her best student. Pearl treated the teacher's lessons as if they were commands from her diamond, learning the arts of war as if doing so were one more act of devotion to her master. Pearl beamed as the agate took pleasure in how swiftly she learned, and Pearl swelled with pride at being useful—Pink Diamond then practiced without complaint simply to match Pearl.
But the agate was right on one point.
Pearl didn't damage herself.
Pearl destroyed herself.
"I don't want to fight the hologram," Pink Diamond had said, rolling her eyes. "I want to fight you!"
Pearl cringed, her sword still pointed at the floor. "I can't point a sword at you. I'm just a pearl—"
"You're my pearl—" Pink Diamond said, then caught herself, stomping her foot. "I mean, your my Pearl. Your my best friend. I want you to do this with me—it's not fun without a partner. It's not fun without...you."
Pearl clutched the sword tighter, drawing in on herself.
"Please, my diamond...I'm not supposed to even hold a weapon..."
"I've already given you permission," Pink Diamond said, waving away her concern. "And you won't hurt me. I'm bigger than you, aren't I?"
That meant nothing in fencing, Pearl thought. That meant nothing for speed and technique and style. Pink Diamond wasn't a dancer. Pink Diamond relied on her shield. Pink Diamond—
Her master touched her chin, tilting her face up to meet her look.
"Don't think of it as fighting," Pink Diamond said, her manic smile intended to be comforting. "Think of it as dancing. It's just a dance."
Pearl trembled.
She didn't 'just dance'.
She'd never 'just danced'.
"...yes, my diamond."
As commanded, she danced. Her steps flashed like light over sparkling dust, and her thrusts always went wide, her slashes intentionally flying past Pink Diamond like a cool breeze. And her diamond laughed and came closer so that Pearl felt her presence washing over her, a diamond's power and authority enveloping her and drawing her in.
To be so close to such power, to move within its rhythm, to join its dance...Pink Diamond invited her to the most intimate and forbidden dance, and Pearl could not disobey. Like a drug, Pink Diamond's presence moved through Pearl and carried her along, as inviting as ribbons, as inexorable as chains.
If Pearl had never picked up the sword, then she would have never learned to fence.
If she'd never learned to fence, Pink Diamond wouldn't have broken the rules.
If they'd never broken the rules, there would have been no war.
Earth would be a colony mined for resources.
Ruby and Sapphire would never have fused.
Pink Diamond would have eventually become adept at her own power in her own way.
And Pearl would have been at her side, occasionally joining Yellow and Blue Diamonds' pearls in mini-concerts for their amusement.
They would have been happy.
Instead Pink Diamond had been encouraged in her rule breaking.
And it was all Pearl's fault.
"Not long now," Yellow Diamond says.
"You'll see her soon," Blue Diamond promises.
How strange, that diamonds try to comfort a pearl.
Loyalty is to be rewarded.
Decades have passed. Earth is a proper colony—nothing remains of its teeming life safe for Pink Diamond's zoo, faithfully curated by Blue Diamond. Amethyst is...somewhere. All other gems she knew are somewhere else. But Pearl doesn't ask. What is the point of knowing? It is not for a pearl to know.
Steven is still Steven.
For now.
They will not let her see him. The diamonds are still unraveling the mystery of his creation and existence. White Diamond's pearl, on the rare instances that she visits, says that they are somehow making Steven age. That if the organic part of him dies, then what is left must be Pink Diamond.
Yellow Diamond's pearl and Blue Diamond's pearl both will not speak to her. When the diamonds visit, praising her loyalty and telling her to keep strong for her master, the pearls stand frozen, unable to look at her. There is no judgment in their eyes, no snickering and no snide comments. Just lowered gazes and silence.
Pearl is cracked, deeply cracked, right down the middle, and the jagged black scar is so deep and wide that she should have shattered. The mark leaves a webwork of cracks radiating out of one blackened eye socket. The crack is self-inflicted, and it will be more decades before resting in her shell coats her enough to hide the wound.
Only White Diamond's pearl, similarly scarred, isn't afraid of her. Two broken dolls, they carry on for their masters, holding themselves together out of sheer devotion.
Pearl sometimes thinks, in the rare lucid moments of her grief, that White Diamond's pearl might sing for her. Pink Diamond won't be allowed to leave White Diamond's side for a long, long—
—long—
—time, and Pearl knows that her dancing must be practiced.
Perhaps, by then, Pearl's arms and legs will be properly healed. Her joints still crack and bend wrong, slipping backward at random moments and leaving her collapsed in a broken pile of limbs.
She had tried very hard to destroy herself.
No one on homeworld questions it. Pearls are allowed their hysteria and terror. Pearls are fragile, delicate things, after all.
As she lays still, arms askew around her head like a splintered halo, she looks out of her chamber, out from her shell, at the grand white palace where her diamond is held.
—where Steven is dying—
And she smiles.
Greg took her diamond away for a moment, but Greg is gone now and Pearl is still here.
"The other diamonds love me," Pearl says to the cold emptiness.
Pink had loved her.
Once.
Maybe she will again.
It is the only hope Pearl has. On the good days, when her body is reformed enough to dance, she brings herself back to her feet, dancing on a floor of red and blue gem dust. She has to put away those memories and practice, rehearse the steps, prepare for a concert in the far future when Pink Diamond is Pink Diamond again.
In her white chamber, confined to the small dais of her shell, Pearl takes short, measured, jerking steps, and her one eye stares at nothing while her black socket absorbs all the light. And she smiles, and she cries, and her tears splash the floor and streak the walls to create a pearlescent sheen.