• Published 24th Jul 2012
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Symphony for Moon and Sun - GrassAndClouds2



Lyra must help Octavia play a piece of forbidden music. Both will be ruined if she fails.

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(Bonus) The twenty-seventh attempt: Red Magician

(450 years post Celestia)

The instruments hovered on stage, soaring in intricate patterns that did nothing for the sound but served to show off Red Magician’s skill. And, as the violins somersaulted over the cellos and the piano wheeled itself around behind the timpani, the crowd roared its adulation.

Magic had been Red Magician’s talent ever since he’d been a little foal. Telekinesis in particular, using raw magical power to move and manipulate items in the world, had come as easily to him as breathing. By this point, as a young adult colt, he was said to have power unparalleled in the city, excepting only Luna herself. In terms of magical reserves, he would be able to wrestle with the guards themselves. And then there were his spells; why, by this point he probably knew more spells than half the Canterlot scholars; he only had to read them once and they imprinted upon his mind. And for this he was renowned -- feared, even. He was an integral part of Canterlot; his knowledge of magic had been called upon by the guards to help keep out unusual threats or to solve crimes; he had even been praised for his sheer ability and power by Luna Herself. But that was only right and proper.

Music had been Magician’s hobby, not his job, but when he’d learned about the infamous Symphony, he thought it was too good an opportunity to pass up. After all, there were still naysayers in the city, those who didn’t think that his vast magical prowess was really all that impressive. He’d had to talk with one of those recently, an idiotic noble deep in her cups. “Magic? What’s that ever done? Sure, y’can make – make illusions, or mess things up, but ya can’t build anythin’! *hic* All y’all unicorns can only watch when we earth ponies create stuff!”

It was nonsense, but it was such common nonsense that Magician felt obligated to stop it. What could he do, he wondered, to demonstrate that his superlative control of magic would make him the greatest at… well, anything he put his mind to? Well, why not use that magic to play the music that could not otherwise be played? Certainly, he wasn't really a musician, he'd never played in public, but he was a phenomenal magician, and that meant he could do just about anything. That was what magic was, after all. The power to remake and reshape the world however you wanted.

He had transcribed the piece for a large ensemble performance – the Symphony would be played by multiple instruments for the first time in quite a while – and then retreated into seclusion to study the work. He saw it as just a big telekinesis puzzle, a test of using his magic to carefully manipulate a dozen instruments. Yes, it was difficult, but only in the way that remembering an intricate series of directions was difficult. He just had to practice enough to get it perfect. The other musicians might have needed decades to learn one instrument, but his immeasurable telekinetic power would make that quite unnecessary. A few weeks of practice at using the instruments, a few days to memorize the work, and he'd be ready to play.

Luna would love it. The others had failed because, as good as they’d been, they’d had inadequate tools – solo performances of this piece were doomed; it was just too complicated to fit on one instrument. But Magician had the talent to use as many instruments as he wanted. It would be extraordinary.

The instruments settled into an arrangement, the strings above Magician, the brass and wind to his right, the piano rolling to a stop to his left. Magician raised his front hooves, casting a small spell to ripple through his hair and make it look like he’d just absorbed a blast of static electricity. “Red Magician thanks you for your attendance, and will now ASTOUND and AMAZE you! Behold his vast power which will allow him alone to play this piece correctly!”

“Behold!” cried his fancolts and fanfillies from the audience.

Luna looked… cautioning. She sat in her booth at the top of the hall, watching the scene with her inscrutable eyes. She said nothing.

But that was fine. Magician grinned, and his horn glowed – a bright, almost blinding, teal hue. Bows began to move, air began to blow through the brass and wind instruments, piano hammers began to strike. The piece was beginning.

Magician had called it a Symphony for Solo Colt in his advertisements. He felt it was appropriate.

The best part was the ending, the part he’d written himself. It described how Luna had overpowered her sister. And how had she done this? Brute force? Sly cunning? No, of course not! She was Luna Equestris, the most powerful magician in the country. She had won thanks to her superior magical skill. Brute force was for the infantry grunts; cunning for thieves and burglars; but it took an alicorn to overcome another alicorn with magical ability.

And so Luna’s theme transitioned among the instruments, seeming almost… well, magical. It morphed and transformed, overpowering Celestia’s, not in a straight-up bucking match, but in a contest of skill. Celestia’s theme just couldn’t match the transformations that Luna’s did, and it let Luna’s theme run circles around Celestia’s. Luna captured the strings, the brass, the piano, easily deflecting any attack and throwing many of her own.

In the end, Celestia’s theme shrank. It screamed pitifully, but what could it do? Celestia hadn’t anything like the magical muscle of her sister. This was self evident; if Celestia had been more talented magically, she’d have won. But it was Luna that had been victorious, and her theme flared in triumph as Celestia’s was shifted into something unimportant and pathetic, something too weak to bother with – a mare now imprisoned forever in the sun, helpless to touch the world again.

The ending was a glorious testament to magic, the whole ensemble playing in a grand union that resounded throughout the hall. When Magician ended, he allowed himself a grin. Was that not the greatest performance in the world?

There was no applause.

Magician frowned slightly, watching Luna stand. “My princess,” he began. “I would be honored to know your thoughts.”

“My thoughts?” Luna’s smile was razor thin. “That you are little more than a prospective sycophant. My sister had more magical power than me without the Elements; every pony knows this. Foals know that, without the additional help of the Elements, I would have lost the match. Did you think I would be impressed by a lie? Is that what you think of your ruler?”

“My princess,” said Magician, “After all I have done for the city, after all I still do – considering how absolutely indispensible I am – I would hope by now you would know I am no liar!”

“Being a good magician and a hero has nothing to do with the perfidy you just demonstrated,” hissed Luna. “Do you think that helping in the city’s defense gives you the right to lie? About me? Stick to your spells and your detective work, Magician. Never again will I hear you perform.”

She vanished.

Magician could only stare. “Ah – well, I suppose one must allow the princess her little joke. Fillies and gentlecolts, this great work of Maestro’s, this—“

But it wasn’t working. Ponies were backing away from the stage. There were nervous whispers.

“Now – now see here, maybe you couldn’t tell, but I was quite cognizant of Luna loving the piece. She might not be able to admit such, you know the reputation of the work, but it was quite obvious how moved she was, and…”

It still didn’t work.

He reached out to one of his younger fans, but her mother yanked her back. “You’re not associating with him anymore!” she cried. And then the audience was stampeding out the door, as if pursued by Luna’s wrath.

It was not what one would call a rousing success.