• 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 twelfth attempt: Stringer

(200 years post Celestia)

Dream big, Stringer’s mother had taught her. She’d been one of the most successful con mares in Equestria, grifting her way from city to city. Shed amassed fortune and treasure galore, and none of her victims were any the wiser. Everypony, she’d said, could be a sucker if you just played them right – and she was always able to prove it.

She’d passed away a few years back, but Stringer had done her best to continue the family tradition. Blessed with a talent that made her a sort of jack-of-all-trades, she was able to demonstrate all kinds of skills to convince ponies to part with their hard-earned bits. She could cook just well enough to trick nobles into thinking she was a famous chef; she could march just well enough to look like an angry guard that it would better to bribe than to argue with; she could juggle, sing, even walk on her two front hooves. She wasn’t great at anything, except, perhaps, for talking, but that was really all she needed.

“String ‘em along,” her mother had taught her. “Until you’ve got all they have.” And she did.

But this scam would have impressed even her old mare – and that mare had once conned a title, not just wealth but a title, out of a keen-eyed archduchess with more paranoia than rooms in her castle. This would be the scam, the titanic one that would rocket her straight to the top. This was it, baby. The legendary con.

The scene? Canterlot Royal Auditorium. The plan? Play the Symphony for Moon and Sun. Not well, of course, but who would know the difference? Nopony had heard the piece played in many, many years, and none ever spoke of the old performance anyway. Hay, the fifth movement was forgotten, so who was to say it wasn’t mostly a series of glitzy, flashy, and speedy arpeggiations (the sort that sounded a lot harder to play than they really were) around the previous themes? The foolish nobles had no idea what it was supposed to sound like. As long as she didn’t screech her way through it, they’d trust she was playing it right. Luna might know the difference, but then again, Luna wouldn’t be there. Luna, Stringer knew, was abroad in diplomatic talks. She would miss the concert.

The key to the con, though, was ensuring that the other ponies forgot that.

Costume Artist was a very talented actress whom Stringer worked with occasionally, but even the seasoned con artist had to admit that Costume had outdone herself this time. Her Luna costume was absolutely perfect. She looked just like the Princess of the Night, and could act like her too. She would fool them all.

Stringer would take the stage. ‘Luna’ would arrive, in an unexpected appearance – she’d rushed home from her diplomatic duties, she’d say, just to hear this piece -- , and Stringer would play. ‘Luna’ would love it. In fact, it would completely floor her. She would pronounce Stringer the greatest musician in Equestria, bar none. And, given her great love of music, that would imply that nobles who utilized the services of so great a musician might just look a bit better than those philistines who did without.

And that would open so many doors…

The Longest Night Ceremony was in a month. Once Luna favored her, all the nobles would beg her to play for them at that ceremony, in their own domains and fiefdoms. She’d entertain all offers. Hay, she’d accept all offers – as long as they paid in advance. She could make that demand; each noble would know that, if they turned her down, another would snap her up. They would never tell each other that they’d bought her because they’d each worry about their colleagues stealing her away; this would help ensure that they didn’t realize that she was selling the same performance to sixty-odd nobles. Although, why stop at just the one concert? Plenty would want to sign her for long-term contracts too. And… as long as they had plenty of money… she would gladly accept.

She would make tens of thousands of bits. Even splitting it with Costume, she’d be beyond rich. Sure, it would fall apart once Luna returned in a week or two, but by then the two of them would have cashed out and hidden in their safe house in Cavallia, where they could enjoy a life of anonymous prosperity.

But that would be later. For now, she had to sell the con.

Stringer stepped onto the stage just as the fake Luna finished stating how, though she was so busy, she just had to come back and listen to the mare with the temerity to play this piece. ”THIS PIECE DESCRIBES MYSELF AND MINE SISTER. SHOULD THERE BE EVEN ONE SINGLE FLAW, I SHALT NEVER FORGIVE THE ARTIST. PLAY IT, STRINGER… IF THOU CANST!”

Stringer pretended to be afraid. “I – I obey, your majesty!”

She hefted her bow, drew it across the instrument, and –

And suddenly, she felt very cold.

Involuntarily, she looked out at the audience – and she saw a rapidly expanding patch of dark blue.

No! No, no, no! Impossible!

There was a flash, there was a titanic, roiling boom, and then there was Luna. And Stringer suddenly understood why ponies once feared the night.

Costume Artist took one look at the alicorn and tried to bolt, but she seemed to run into some kind of invisible wall. With a flash, her fake wings evaporated, her mist turned to dust, and even her fine vestments crumbled. “Please, stop! Don’t hurt me!”

“Take her away,” hissed Luna.

And then, as Costume Artist was being hauled out by the guards, Luna turned her gaze on Stringer. Her eyes were like thin needles of ice pointing directly at her.

“I have come,” said Luna, in a very angry voice, “A long way to hear this piece. Play it, Stringer. If thou canst.”

And she couldn’t.