//------------------------------// // 4th Movement // Story: Symphony of Life // by CrackedInkWell //------------------------------// When Script was around the age of thirteen, the Princes had a conversation that nopony wanted to talk about. The kind of conversation where in public is considered taboo with dirty looks and embarrassment. A conversation that questions what should be kept quiet versus what should be told. It all started when their son came back home from middle school with a few questions on his mind. Questions that have been floating around in his head since his health class had brought it up a few days ago. A conversation in the maze where Script asked his fathers out for the sake of privacy because of the uncertainty of what was to come; a conversation that started with one simple question. “Dad, Pa, what’s clop?” As soon as he spoken those four words, his fathers immediately stopped walking. “Pardon?” Color asked. “Clop, what is it?” Script questioned again. The couple looked at each other, both blushing and giving each other a look. A kind of look that says that neither of them has exactly been looking forward to has arrived. “Script,” Harmonic said gently. “Just, where did you hear that word from?” “From some of my classmates at school, all from what we’re learning in our health class we’re doing for the week. All I can pick up on is that some of them had already tried it and it felt really good. But I still don’t know what they’re talking about or what they did what. I don’t remember it being ever brought up in class and I’m certainly not going to ask the teacher about it. My friends either don’t know or won’t talk about it. So do either of you know?” “Would you give us a moment and stay right here?” Color asked as he pushed his husband to a turn in the maze. Once when they were out of earshot of their son, Harmonic turned to his husband. “Now what?” Harmonic asked. “You’re asking me? I don’t know what to do either since I’ve never done this before.” “Then again, it’s not really teaching him the birds and the bees here; he’s learning that at school.” “I know that. But he’s asking that’s… well…” Color cleared his throat, “private, shall we put it.” “So what do we do? We both know that he’s going to figure out one way or another.” They both stood in silence for a moment. Color closed his eyes and nodded, “I’ll do it,” he said. “Are you sure?” “Somepony has to do it. So I’ll try.” The two of them went back to a sitting Script. “Son,” Color began. “This is going to be one of the hardest and certainly the most awkward conversations that I’ll probably ever have in my life. So if I pause or something like that, just keep in mind that it’s not easy for me to talk about this, however, it has to be done. With that, how about we cut a deal here: if you tell me what you know about sex, I’ll try what I can to (within reason) fill in the details.” Script recalled from memory the past few days from his health class. From diagrams to the development of pregnancy, and even describing what he was told was going to happen to both genders when they or are reaching puberty. When that was done, Color nodded. “Okay, good. Um… Script listen, clopping is something that is done by both genders, not just colts, and it’s actually natural. Everypony will in their lifetime, and if time will tell, you will as well. Clopping, you see, it tricks your,” Color cleared his throat. “Equipment (let’s put it as that) into the illusion you’re having intercourse without doing it with anypony. For personal reasons, I won’t describe how you’d do it since Earth Ponies, Pegasi, Unicorns and yes, even Alicorns have their own techniques when it comes to this. All I can say is… use your hoof.” “Okay?” Script said with a raised eyebrow. “But keep listening, when the time does come, you must keep in mind a few things. First of all, if you do this, make sure you do it in private. Preferably behind closed doors and drawn curtains. Oh! And be sure that nopony’s around. Got it?” Script nodded. “And second, when you get done, you will make somewhat of a mess, so be sure that you clean up after yourself with something that won’t leave stains.” “Clean up what?” Script asked innocently. Both of their fathers blushed furiously, “Trust me,” Color said. “You’ll know.” “Um… Okay? Thanks, I guess. Oh, and can I ask you both one more question? It’s something we’re going to learn tomorrow and I want to hear it from you two first.” His fathers nodded. “Tomorrow we’re gonna talk about the attractions that ponies are drawn to. You know like colts like fillies, fillies like fillies – things like that. So what I’m wondering is, how do I know what I’m going to like? Do you know what I’m talking about?” “You mean how would you know what you’re attracted to?” Harmonic asked and Script nodded. “It takes some time,” Harmonic said. “But eventually you’ll figure out by what kind of ponies that you notice the most. Script, neither of us wouldn’t care if you like fillies, colts, both or maybe none of them. What we care though, is to make sure that in the long run, you figure out what makes you happy. If it be with somepony or just by yourself. What you find out liking is something you’d need to figure out for yourself. Okay?” “Okay, dad. Thanks. And Pa, thanks for explaining that for me.” And with that, Script made his way out of the maze. When their son was out of sight, both stallions let out a long breath and relaxed their shoulders. With the Princes still behind, they both slowly made their way too. “Hey,” Harmonic said, giving his husband a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’m actually proud of ya. You did that pretty maturely and given him what needs to be given without saying too much. You handled that very well.” “Ha. Thanks. You did well yourself too. Kinda makes me wish you were around at his age. Oh early adolescence, that was a weird time.” “Yeah. Imagine what it was like for me as well.” Here, Harmonic shuttered. “Those were some dark times. But no matter, that was the past. As of now, we have each other, and our colt is growing up.” “That’s an understatement,” Color muttered. “Oh get your mind out of the gutter will you.” _*_ By the time Script came back to the castle, he arrived much, much later then he wanted to be. He hoped as he made his way through the darkened hallways that nopony would notice. He’d expect that everypony would either be in bed or still be occupied with Luna’s night court to be seen out this late. Secretly praying to the whole universe that neither of his dads would notice that he left home without telling them; given the party, his high school buddies talked him into. Then he finally got to the double doors of his room, carefully turning the handles so not to make any sound and quietly stepped into his darkened room. He stepped over to the lamp on the nightstand in the dark, trying to feel for the switch. As soon as light flooded the room, Script jumped back in shock to the pony that was on the bed. “GAH! O-Oh, hey dad!” Harmonic said nothing. Looking cross, sitting on the edge of the bed, he had his violin in his hooves. With one hoof, he plucked the lower string of the violin. “Uh, I-I-I… Sorry, didn’t see you there.” There was another pluck of the string. “So… What are ya doing here?” “You do realize what time it is right?” Harmonic said softly but in a low voice. Script took a quick glimpse at the clock. “One forty-six?” Harmonic plucked the string again. “Yes. So where’ve you been between dinner yesterday and now, Mr. ‘I’m-going-to-take-a-bit-of-a-walk-so-I’ll-be-right-back?’” “W-Well… Uh…” Script looked into his dad’s eyes. He can see the gears turning in his head, trying to calculate what kind of punishment that was going to be in store for him. “Go on. Speak up. You, sir, have school in the morning, so get to it. Where have you been?” There was another pluck on the string. “Out.” “We noticed that. But care to explain where exactly?” “W-Well… I…” Script’s eyes shifted back and forth. “I-I can’t.” Harmonic raised an eyebrow. “You can’t tell me where you’ve been?” His son nodded. “Why?” he asked. “Is it because of the punishment I’m thinking up for you?” “It’sjustIdon’twanthertoget-” Script said quickly but stopped himself with a hoof over his mouth. “Sorry, I didn’t get that, did you just said, ‘her’?” His dad asked. Reluctantly, he nodded. Harmonic put down his violin on the bed. “Okay, now you’ve got me curious. Who is she?” “Dad, please, I don’t want her to get into trouble too. It’s the first time that I was able to really talk to her.” “From the way you’re making yourself sound, it seems you did a little more than just talk, am I right? Now you tell me my young stallion, what exactly happened?” Script sat next to his dad, “Well, you know that class that prepares us for real jobs when we get out of high school right? Where we go to someplace to gain work experience for a trimester? Well, over the past month, there’s this mare at the library. Page Turner, who has the same class but is from a different school. I didn’t talk to her at first since she’s just so… pretty.” He said the last word quietly. “And?” His father urged him on. “W-Well, ya see, I was just too shy to go up to her without making myself looking like an idiot. But I wanted to talk to her, so I got my friends to help me out. Well, they caught word that Page is going to some birthday party at her cousin’s place. Which was tonight, and I know that I told you and Pa that I’ll be going for a walk because I honestly didn’t think it would take that long. So I got there with my friends there and they helped me introduce me to her. We started talking for a while. Well, I can’t be sure how long we talked. She was so funny when she told about herself. And I found her interesting in what she had to say as she did with me. We talked about our schools, the teachers we liked and hated; what subjects we’re studying and all of that. We talked of books, of favorite stories, debating if “Lord of the Horseshoes” trilogy or “The Great Grazeby” was a better story. Dad, we were just so caught up in talking that we’d forgot that there was a party going on. And then we…” “Yes?” Harmonic asked, still hasn’t put down his eyebrow as his son was speaking. “Um… She gave me my first real kiss.” There was a moment of silence between the two of them. Then his father asked, “Is that all that happened?” “Huh?” “You two didn’t…” Realizing what his father meant, Script’s face turned bright red, “DAD! NO! Nonononononono! Dad, I swear it to both of my grandma and aunt that nothing happened! We just make out and that’s it!” Giving a relieved sigh, Harmonic got up from the bed, taking his violin in his aura. “I’ll take your word for it. So then what happened really?” “W-Well, we just made out with each other for a while when I realized what time it was, I told her ‘Sorry, I have to go’ and left. Dad, please don’t be mad at me, I want to see her again.” His dad hummed in thought, making his way to the door. “I’ll let you off the hook for this one time, on one condition.” He turned to his son, “Unless you can bring Page Turner over for dinner, you’ll be grounded for the next three months, understood?” His son nodded. “Good, now go to sleep Script, your Pa would want to hear about this too.” And with that, Harmonic left the room, closing the door behind him. Hours later, Script waited outside of the castle gates, pacing back and forth for that one particular pony. Getting increasingly worried as one minute ticked to the next. “Come on, where is she?” He muttered to himself. “She’s to your right.” Script turned to the sound of the voice, and sure enough, there she was. Smiling at him, still wearing her glasses over her light green eyes that perfectly matched her mane that was tied in a ponytail; the pegasus was nearly slender in form with her darker green coat and an open book as her cutie mark. “Page! Thank you so much for coming.” “Hey, you seemed to be a nice guy, so why wouldn’t I? And besides, to meet with your dads, I’m really curious what they’re really like up close. Not to say both of my parents are extremely jealous.” Script smirked, “For me it’s just another day. Now come on, it’s almost dinner time.” Script lead Page into the castle, through the familiar maze of hallways and rooms until they reached the private dining room. There they found the two Princesses and the two princes at the table. Page Turner, for her part, respectively bowed low to them. “Good evening Your Majesties,” she said. “I agree,” Luna said, “tonight is indeed an excellent night to wake up to. And just whom might you be?” “My name is Page Turner.” “Oh, so you’re the one that our son is getting in trouble over,” Harmonic said. Page blinked, “Trouble?” “From what I’ve heard,” Color joined in, “he came home at nearly two o’clock in the morning on a school night. But depending on you, he might be in deep trouble. Now care to sit down?” “Script, what’s really going on?” Page asked as she took a seat across Harmonic. “They want to know if their son is telling the truth,” Celestia told her. “They want to see if what Script told of last night matches up with yours.” “So please tell us,” Color piped up. “What happened last night?” Page gave an audible gulp, “Um, at the party?” “It’s a good start. And don’t worry, you yourself are not in trouble here.” “Well... beforehoof I only knew Script at the library, for the same class except he goes to a different school then I go to. Up until then, I only knew him as some shy guy who didn’t say much around me. Anyway, oh thank you.” The last remark was to Script, giving her a bowl of soup. “Anyway, I got a letter in the mail from one of his friends, saying that he liked me and wanted to talk to me, except he was too shy.” Here she giggled, “I found it a little bit adorable if I do say so myself. And since my last coltfriend broke up with me almost a month ago, I thought ‘why not’ and send back a reply that I’ll talk to him. Now the problem was that I had to go to my cousin’s birthday party where she turned eighteen and couldn’t miss it. So I wrote that he could meet me there.” “A birthday party that lasts past midnight?” Harmonic asked. “Hey, I didn’t know it’ll go on for so long. And neither did he, as I remember it, Script told me that he just wanted to drop by to see me. Guess he ended up staying longer than he thought. Sorry about that.” The last sentence was towards Script. With a dismissive hoof, Script told her, “Eh, you’re fine.” “Anyway, we spend most of the time on the back porch on that bench swing, talking away. I guess we both lost complete track of time. ‘Course he started out shy, but once he’d open up a little – well, we just couldn’t stop talking. He told me that he likes to write and that I’m very good at research and editing. We talked about our parents, my mom and you guys… You know, come to think of it, we’ve talked about a lot of things at that party. And I wasn’t bored at all. He listens to me as well as he gave his insights on things, not to mention that we both laughed at our jokes. He just seems so sweet that, without thinking, I gave him a kiss.” The table went quiet. “I didn’t know he ever kissed anypony before,” Page added. “I quickly apologized to him, but I guess that didn’t matter, to tell you the truth Your Majesties… he kissed me back.” Both fathers and elder alicorns noticed that both Page and Script looked away from each other, blushing. “Is Script somepony you might want to see again?” Luna asked. Page glanced over to Script, “Well… I guess so.” Script’s ears perked up, “Really?” he asked. “I don’t see why not. You seemed to be a nice guy.” “And you seemed to be a nice mar-” Script quickly put a hoof over his mouth. Page giggled. “Script,” Color called over to his son’s attention. “I think that for just this once, we’ll let you off the hook. However, you’d need to be honest about where you’re going next time.” The Artist turned to the mare, “So Page, tell us about yourself.” “Well, I’m living with my mom while dad’s in Cloudsdale. He mostly goes back and forth from here to Cloudsdale for business mostly, so we don’t see him much. My mom lives here as a cook for an elementary school, serving out food to the kids there. As for me, I go to Moonrise High School where my favorite subject is Equestrian. Well, Equestrian literature to be exact, where I hope I might become a teacher someday.” “How is your family financially?” Harmonic asked. “We’re around the middle class, just trying to get by. I mean, dad does help a lot each month, but mom’s trying to make enough to live off of.” “And what does your dad do?” “He’s a sales pony. He goes into Cloudsdale because he’s the only one in the little company he’s in that’s a pegasus – that, and it's close somewhat to here.” “Do you have any brothers or sisters?” Celestia asked. “No, I’m an only child Majesty. And before I forget, is it true that Princess Twilight is writing a book?” “I don’t believe I recall anything from Twilight. Even if she was, I think she might have written something to us about it. Why do you ask?” “Because Princess Twilight is rather a kind of role model to me, she has been since I was a little filly. So I tried to find out what I could about her. Learning bits and pieces of her life’s story. How a little filly who once struggled with magic, in the beginning, became a Princess in the end. And it was her that got me interested in reading.” Celestia smiled, “It’s always good to hear that my former student can be such an inspiration to so many ponies like you.” Script’s eyes opened up and his ears stood straight up, “Hey Page, what if I can get to meet my Aunt Twilight?” “REALLY!?” Page caught herself becoming too excited. Clearing her throat, she reinstated: “Sorry, I mean, you would do that?” “Well, yeah. Of course, she might be somewhere in Equestria since she goes to a lot of places more often, but I think I can send in a letter so you two can talk.” A squee, a hug, and high pitch “thank you” later, she let go and simply said, “Thank you Script.” _*_ It wasn’t unusual to see Prince Harmonic with an orchestra. Nor was it uncommon to have him play some classical music, written by him or otherwise. But what made these particular rehearsals rare was that for the first time, Harmonic would not be taking the lead or have a solo part. Instead, he would be performing side by side with the other ponies in the violin section. The conductor for the Royal Equestrian Orchestra had been for the past hour rehearsing the five pieces of music. A movement from two sonatas; a waltz; a concerto; and the premiere of the Prince’s first piano with orchestra piece. During the past two months of rehearsals, it was no secret that the Prince’s husband, Prince Color was getting sicker and sicker. This was noted when the artist was releasing less and fewer paintings to the public. What the Artist was sick from was open to gossip. In fact, nopony outside of Canterlot castle knew what he was suffering. That was until a few days before the concert that Color came with his husband to rehearsals. The orchestra saw that Color seemed to be much paler, and not to say, much weaker. So weak, that it took the help of a few guards plus his husband to even walk into the theater. At one point during one of the sonatas, Color was coughing so much that some say that they saw blood. They saw Harmonic abandoning the orchestra to take Color out of the theater. Now it was the day before the concert, where they were practicing Harmonic’s piece when suddenly Script came bursting through the doors. “DAD!” he yelled. “DAD COME QUICK! IT’S PA! HE’S DYING!” There was a silence that followed after Script’s bad news that echo off the walls. Just as sudden as Harmonic’s son’s arrival, so did the Prince got up from his seat and rushed out of the theater. Taking his violin with him, he flew out of the front doors and headed straight to the castle. Meanwhile, his son followed close by from a chariot being pulled by a couple of Pegasi Guards. Harmonic didn’t bother going through the front doors, instead, he headed for his husband’s balcony. He quickly opened the doors, hoping that Color was still alive. He was. There on the bed, with canvas being held up on a stand, his husband was putting a few more strokes of paint with his magic. Color looked up at his husband and smiled. “Glad you came.” “Color, is it true? Please tell me you’re not dying, are you?” Color sighed, “Sorry Harm, I’m-” here, color coughed for a moment. “Sorry about that. But yes. I don’t think I’ll last long,” he wheezed. Harmonic went up close to his bedside. “Color, please stay, Just- Just stay with me a little longer. Script is coming here as we speak.” “I know, I told him to get you,” Color went quiet, he turned towards the painting, “What do ya think?” he quietly asked. Harmonic turned to the painting. It was a portrait of the three of them. Harmonic stood on the left, putting a hoof on Script, now a full-grown stallion sitting down and a wing around Color. But as Harmonic noticed, the painting was unfinished. Color in the painting was only painted half way, and Script was mostly a drawing. “It’s not finished,” Harmonic noted. “Of course it’s not,” Color said, “That’s the whole point of my last painting. You are whole because you have nothing but time to develop such colors. I on the other hoof am left unfinished because I died at the age of thirty-eight and could have done more if I lived longer,” here Color coughed for a moment, Harmonic held his hoof. “And as for Script, I left it as a sketch on purpose because of the potential he has of both of his future and his fiancée. Consider it to be my unfinished masterpiece that’s meant to be left unfinished.” “Always the sentimental one aren’t ya?” “What? Sometimes art is about being sentimental.” The double doors to Color’s room opened to a panting Script. Color smiled at him, “Script, come here.” Their son obeyed. Color could see that their son tried to look stern given the situation, but in his eyes told a different story. “Hey Script, don’t do this to yourself. I know that you must be sad inside, but it’s okay though-” “Don’t try sugarcoating this Pa.” Script said, a tear going down his cheek. “The three of us know that this will be the last time seeing you again.” “True. And I guess you’re right, this isn’t the time to sugarcoat this. But Script, I want to say that we’re proud of you. I’m proud of you. We’ve watched you grow up into a wonderful stallion that Page is lucky enough to be your special somepony. I’m proud that you’ve decided on your own path as a writer. And I’m still with your decision not to hold a royal position, just so you can be with Page and her dream of being a teacher. Although... you as well as your dad must learn not to cry... at least, not alone; when I’m gone... your dad is going to need you as much... as you need him. Grief is something that should never be... traveled alone. Just remember Script, I’m proud of you... and that I love you son.” Color turned to Harmonic, but before he could speak, he once again coughed, spitting a little blood all the while. Harmonic grabbed a rag to wipe off the blood. “Thanks. Harmonic, listen... I know very well that out of all the ponies that has ever harmed you... I’m the one causing you the most pain.” “Color no! Don’t say that, don’t even think that. The years of what we shared, have been the happiest that I could remember. I never once regretted marrying you at all. Because in a way, you saved me, I once thought that nopony would ever be mad enough to fall in love with a freak like me.” “Because to me... you never were a freak, you Harmonic are the kindest pony that I’ve ever met. With you... I’ve seen the world several times over. Help kickstart my art to legendary status... You were there when times were bad... and you were there when it was good. Not to mention that you’ve... introduced Script to me. I never regretted marrying you either... since you show me what it is to be happy... But now I’m afraid that when I go, I might cause you to forget that happiness you gave. Harmonic... listen to me... when I go... you and Script must move on. That doesn’t mean to forget all about me… I’m saying that there’s somepony out there... that needs that happiness that you’ve given me. For you... when the time is right... please find somepony that makes you as… as happy that I had. I don’t want your sadness be permanent... I want you to be happy... I always wanted that from you.” “I’m going to miss you so much,” Harmonic said, now starting to tear up himself. Color lifted a hoof to his face, wiping away the tears. “I know. I think I will too... But you sir, have a lot of healing to do. And speaking from one artist to another... while some of us may die, our art... our good art, will remain forever in the minds of ponies. I have hundreds of paintings and... sketches throughout the world, each and every one of them I... poured myself into. That’s where you’ll always find me... As long as my art is still around... I will never die.” Color coughed once again, “You know Harm, I’ve always imagined dying to be like this. Slow, difficult to breathe... and getting weaker as time goes on.” “At least you can die in peace.” Color nodded. “Harmonic, I have one last request from you. Take your violin... and lull me to sleep. Play me your piano music that I’ve... never gotten the chance to hear. Please... play me your lullaby.” “Of course Color. For old time's’ sake.” Putting the violin under his chin and lighting up his horn, he played out the orchestrated lullaby. Color closed his eyes, smiling, he listens to the sounds of the piano and the orchestra plays that familiar lullaby. As the music played, Script watched his Pa’s chest moving slower and slower. Looking up to his dad, he tried his hardest to keep playing while trying to withhold his emotions back. Not to say that there was a struggle after the tears began to flow. By the time Harmonic opened his eyes, Color whispered: “Applaud now. The symphony is over.” Then he went still. “Pa?” Script asked, but there was no response. “Pa? Can you hear me...? Pa?” Script looked up to his dad, in his eyes, they both knew. Prince Color Spectrum Everfree was gone. _*_ If one lived in Canterlot, they may know that the city does, in fact, have a cemetery. At least, not above ground – since the capital was built on the side of a mountain, the citizens there have over the centuries built catacombs out of the caves and abandoned mines to bury their dead. If one lived in Canterlot, and has relatives in the capital and dies or asked to be buried there, they may end up being there. Celestia had made it possible that if one wished to end up there, rich or poor, they can do so. But when it comes to a death in the royal family, there is a special section in the catacombs that’s dedicated itself to the tombs of past princess and princes, along with their spouses/beloved consorts who were buried. The section is fenced off by a large cast iron fence and gate. Through the gate, at the very back of the large room of tombs, were two statues looking towards the gate. One pegasus stallion, and one unicorn mare, both carved in the finest white marble. It was in this section, lit by lanterns and torches that the burial of Prince Color was taken place. It was here that the royal family, Color’s family, a hoofful of diplomats, his fans, his critics, and nearly everypony who knew Color was crowded in the catacombs to wish him farewell. As a tradition, everypony, even the guards’ armor, wore black. In front of the casket, ready to settle in the city of the dead, stood Harmonic, Script, and the four Princesses. Off to the side were the undertakers, who waited patiently until every single pony had left to place the casket in its’ final resting place. Harmonic stood there motionless; staring only at the casket, not making any other move other than blinking. For a very long time, he’d been like this. In fact, nopony knew how long he’d been standing like that. Even the Princesses had found him like this when they first arrived. Eventually, Script had enough, walking slowly away from the coffin, he looked down at the two statues in the very back. “Aunt Luna?” He asked quietly. Luna turned to him. “Hum?” “Those statues in the back, who were they? I’ve never seen anything like them before.” Luna turned to what Script was looking at. “Oh.” She said, walking away from the coffin, she spread a wing over him, leaned her neck down to whisper: “Those statues,” she pointed a wing towards the bottom of the stone sentinels, “those bases are not bases at all. They’re tombs.” “For whom?” “Script, they were our parents.” Script was stunned into silence for a moment, “I’m sorry.” “It is fine child, Cel and I know exactly what you’re feeling right now. For let me tell you a secret. In our lifetimes, we have lost many spouses, consorts, and, would you believe this, our children.” “What?” “It’s true. Both mine and Celestia have buried our own children over the centuries. All of them, at one point in their lives, died in the end because none of them were born an alicorn. Princess Cadence is extremely lucky that her foal was born an alicorn, so she may never know the heartache.” “But, how do you deal with something like that? That with everyone you loved ends up dying in the end?” “Well, when one grieves, we all know that we cannot turn back the clock, so we have the choice to either standstill or move forward. You will miss your father, there’s no way around it. But one cannot just look back if they’re able to move forward. While death can be tragic, it is by no means, the end of the world. For when one ends, another shall begin.” “Maybe you can tell dad that, that is when he’s ready to listen.” Time passed, one by one, each and everypony left the grave site, leaving only Harmonic and the undertakers. To the undertakers’ surprise, the prince had at last moved. His horn glowed, summoning his violin and bow by his side. He took it in his hooves, and played for his husband for one last time. _*_ For three years, Harmonic’s violin, the world’s most perfect, most famous Trotivarius masterpiece was silent. So did his music in that regard. Harmonic still went about with his duties as a Prince, but with his own compositions, there was absolutely nothing. Knowing his father, Script knew that he was miserable. Three years after his Pa died, Harmonic was rarely happy about anything. Not at his wedding, not even with the birth of his daughter. He was now concern for his father’s well being. One evening, Script went back to his old home. Taking the advice from his wife, he went up to the castle to have a talk with his father. He went up to his father’s door and knocked on it. It opened to his father at the fireplace. “Evening son,” he said, “Is there a reason why you’re here?” “Dad, I need to have a talk with ya.” “About?” Harmonic asked, picking up a poker, prodding at the burning pieces of wood. “Mainly about you. Dad, I’m getting really concern for you. You’re never happy. Ever since Pa’s passing, you have hardly been seen outside of doing your duties.” “What do you expect me to do?” he questioned, putting the cast iron stick back in its place. “What do you expect for me to do, when the love of my life is gone forever?” “Dad, you move on. Remember how Pa used to paint after he gets done with one painting, does he just stop painting?” “Well, no-” “No, he moves onto another painting. Dad, you can’t just live in the past, you won’t be happy again by moping over something that has happened. Pa himself said that you should move on, so why don’t you?” “Why? Because Color was the only pony that I’ve ever met who truly made me happy. I’ve never run into another pony like him.” Script sighed, “Have you ever thought that maybe that there might be ponies like him out there? Look, I know you’re going to say ‘but there’s nopony out there for me who’s like Color.’ But let me give you something that Pa has once told me.” “And what’s that?” “‘You can try at anything, and fail a thousand times, but the true failure is when you stopped trying.’” “So what do you want me to do? Huh?” “Try again,” his son deadpanned. “With whom?” Script shrugged, “Dad, I truly don’t know. But you’ll never know unless you try. Maybe a Guard or something. But dad, I want you to be happy again. And don’t do this for me, do it for Pa. He would want this.” There was a silence for a solid minute. Sighing, Harmonic said, “For your pa’s sake, I’ll try.” _*_ Two weeks later, Harmonic was in his room once again, this time, instead of eating with the Princesses, as usual, he had a table set up for two. There was a knock on the door, Harmonic opened it with his magic, and sure enough, the pony he’d been expecting had arrived. The pegasus guard trotted in, after giving a salute, he asked, “You sent for me sir?” “I have. Take off your helmet and have a seat.” Obeying, the guard took off his helmet, revealing his charcoal black coat and a white main. He sat down at the table, placing the helmet next to his plate. “What is your name?” Harmonic asked. “Mountain Wings sir.” “There’s no need to call me sir, for now, you do know, of course, why you're one of the few who volunteered right?” “Well,” Mountain blushed a little. “I do. I’m aware that you’re looking for a somepony to have a date with. I volunteered because, well, I’m the only gay guy in my regiment. And I’ve been feeling, well, somewhat lonely lately since my last breakup.” “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” “Not at all si- pardon me, Harmonic, I came here hoping for something better to happen in my life.” “So do I. Now then, shall we have some dinner?” And who knows, maybe he could be the one to have my love again. Harmonic thought. Two Years Later...