Octavian History

by Hasashimi

Chapter 1: Not so Musical History

Chapter 1
Not so Musical History

“I’m here grandmother,” I call from the end of the dark corridor, “Where are you?”

“In the living room dear,” a voice replied, “Walk down that hallway and turn a left.”

The path had a lack of lights and the only source was through the handful of small windows. Itchy dust fell onto my gray coat and made me flinch a few times. The floorboard creaked under my hooves. The house on the outside looked like Fancy Pants owned it himself but this hallway was like a scene in a horror movie. Grandma called me here but for no specified reason, she just said that I needed to “learn about my flesh and blood.” It’s probably some science article that she read off of the “newly discovered” internet.

I turned the corner to see a beautifully decorated room with my grandmother sitting on the couch with a smiling face. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, reflecting the portraits of my ancestors which were probably noble musicians. Flowerpots and tables were set at random places in the room while a soft, hoof-made carpet spread across the floor. The walls were cream colored and had faint, red flowers painted on it.

“Come sit down dear!” my grandma called.

I trotted over slowly to marvel the room’s beauty. The couch had some floral patterns that made little bumps which made the couch rather uncomfortable at times. My grandmother still had that bright smile on her face. Her pure white coat began to grow gray and her mane was untended. Even her piano cutie mark seemed to have lost some of its keys.

“Sweetie,” my grandma grumbled, “do you know why I called you here?”

Her sweet inviting smile disappeared and her face was straight as a board. I knew that it was supposed to be something important. I shook my head.

“Well then,” my grandma said, “I’m telling you the story of your ancestors, you are old enough to know now Octavia. Before you create false hope, I will tell you that this is no happy story. You were just a 17-year-old mare when your mom had passed away.” My grandma lowered her head, “That isn’t all that happened, are you ready to listen?”

How could my ancestors be “no happy story?” They were just musicians...right? She’s probably just scaring me. I nodded in agreement and shifted myself to get comfortable.

“Good.” She took a deep breath, “Your father had left you when you were just a little filly. To him, a younger, fresh mare was better. After that, several murder cases were reported and the culprit was always your father and his brand new fillyfriend. When you were 17, your mother had committed suicide but you already know that. If you noticed, not one of them became a musician. “Mommy” spent her time at home moping about and you were the one that had to get a job.”

This was rather surprising but this bad phase only happened to my parents... right? I have a musical cutie mark, so did her grandmother, this was a musical family.

“Your grandfather was a stallion that I wish I had never met. He flirted with the other mares at his work place and eventually grew insane due to drugs and alcohol. Your grandfather... killed your mother’s two sisters... my fillies. He even had a swirl cutie mark. He was later thrown into death row and killed.”

This was rather shocking, I thought he died due to playing the trombone and having asthma.

“Five generations of your ancestors were assassins and bandits. At that time, they were wanted for 1 million bits per pony. I think it was about 1000 ponies that they killed in their lifetime. Fillies are raised as killers you know? They even targeted Princess Celestia herself.”

I flinched a bit, after all that I heard, I didn’t know if I was supposed to be scared or happy.

“Octavia... you and I are the only ones in this whole family with musical abilities. Those portraits on the walls are cropped wanted pictures. Sweetie... that cutie mark... isn’t real.”

I looked down at my flank. Of course it was real! How could it not be? My grandmother put her hoof on my cutie mark and began to rub it really hard. It kind of burned as well. She removed her hoof and there it was. A gray blank flank. I looked up at her with teary eyes. Music was my life! How could it have been fake?! Am I a grow mare without her cutie mark? Has my life been a lie?

“I’m sorry my dear,” she apologized, “this was the only way that you could learn. Even my grand piano that was made by me was created with elephant tusks. I killed those poor elephants with my own bare hooves and some unicorn magic. You are supposed to carry on this dangerous legacy.”

She pointed at me with a stern look. I was terrified of her. Adrenaline burst through my veins and a voice in my head finally called to me. “Run Octavia, run,” the voice called. That’s what I did, I ran as fast as I could to escape her. I wasn’t coming back to this place, I’m making my own history happen.