Music is a bit of a curious subject. It stands as a medium of both artistic value and entertainment, capable of sparking emotional outbursts and frightening questions in some cases while in others appealing to our basest desires for pleasure and stimulation. It is considered part of the school of art and yet is largely defined and measured in numbers, citizens of that alien realm of mathematics. And though much of society recognizes and respects music for all of its complexities and cultural importance, the attitude toward musicians is mostly a mixed bag. Children, for example, are praised for showing musical talent at an early age, but continued interest in the developing that talent is often met with ridicule and jeers at how it’s a waste of time, and while the old classical masters are praised for their abilities long after they’ve turned to dirt, many popular modern musicians who have found success tend to be decried as hacks who have sold their souls and artistic visions and become slaves of capitalism and the artificial pop entertainment industry.
Consider how many well-intentioned but ultimately overbearing parents will push their offspring to learn an instrument, develop an ear for tone and tune, and have a grasp on the strange and mysterious world of music theory, but any mention or hint of a desire to pursue music professionally is often met with tears and aneurysms. Which, to a degree, is a reasonable reaction, given the amount of effort necessary to stay competitive in that field and how low the monetary returns are and wouldn’t you rather do something productive with your life like be a dentist or a lawyer?
Those that do persevere through the guilt-trips and passive aggression in addition to the long hours of practice and high maintenance costs of their instrument of choice will often one day discover a musical note or symbol or something similarly related to music on their flank, and at that point most parents would give up trying to influence the child’s future as it is rather difficult, and somewhat silly, to argue with the physical manifestation of their child’s destiny.
Octavia Melody’s parents were not such parents as from the very beginning they were very much supportive of the young filly’s dream of becoming a cellist by trade. They were however less understanding about her decision to leave for some backwater settlement called Ponyville and move in with that strange unicorn friend of hers who for whatever reason spells her name with numbers instead of letters. True, her roommate’s many eccentricities did occasionally drive her up the walls, and yes, there was a bit of a commute to the best gigs up in Canterlot, and yes, the odd accent all her friends here spoke in could be at times difficult to decipher and hers to them, but Octavia was still very much content, dare she say happy, with her life as Ponyville’s premier cellist.
Now besides the occasional wedding or charity event, there wasn’t much work to be found in such a small town, and so Octavia found herself often leaving for Canterlot for long stretches of time in preparation for a performance at some private concert or opera or at some garden party hosted by the aristocracy. These trips were long and tended to leave Octavia drained, sapping the cellist of any energy for the first couple of days she’d spend back in Ponyville; her inability to sleep on the train ride back and her roommate’s love for loud music with hard beats and overwhelming bass likely didn’t help. Thus it was quite understandable that Octavia, exhausted from her most recent recital, didn’t display the enthusiasm her roommate had when the disk jockey informed her of the job she had accepted on both of their behalves or find much amusement in her roommate’s re-enactment of the local dragon on their doorstep begging them to take the gig. Octavia’s mood only soured once she was informed that payment had already been accepted, a good fraction of which had already been spent, and that the event they were to perform at happened to be this very night in about half an hour.
And so instead of entering a well-deserved slumber, Octavia Melody found herself at the threshold of the School of Friendship’s courtyard, wearing the same bow tie she had been wearing in Canterlot while she played the same octet of quarter notes over and over again. Accompanying her was DJ Pon-3, spelling intentional, on her record mixer providing the bassline and miscellaneous sound effects, nodding her head to the beat.
Spike and Rarity watched the two perform at a distance, unaware that they themselves were being watched by a certain farmer and a certain aerial acrobat. “It looks nice,” Rarity finally said. “The decorations I mean. It really does feel like a gala.”
“Oh, um, thanks. But Pinkie Pie did most of the work.” Spike rubbed the back of his head bashfully. “I just, reined her in, kept her from making it too Pinkie Pie, you know?”
“Ah.”
“Yeah.”
The cellist began her fifty-fourth repeat of those eight notes of the night as the two fell back into silence. Slowly, Spike turned back to face the mare standing beside him, his mouth opening to speak, and discovered Rarity staring directly at him with her own mouth agape.
“There’s something I—“
“Spike, I need to—“
“S-sorry, you can go first.”
“No no, I insist, please continue.”
“Okay, um.” A visible bulge forced its way down Spike’s throat as he gulped. “It’s just, I’ve been meaning to say something, like all night. Longer even. And, and it’s, you know how, what I’m trying to say is, what I mean to say is.” Spike shut his eyes and turned away. “Your dress is nice.”
“Oh.” A surge of mixed feelings filled Rarity, relief in that what she was dreading to hear from Spike was being delayed and disappointment in that what she needed to hear from Spike was being delayed. “Thank you.”
“Haven’t seen that dress before. Is it new?”
“This?” Rarity hesitated. Despite herself and her reputation as always fashionable and elegant, she found it too difficult to focus on choosing an outfit for tonight, there being so much on her mind already, and simply decided on first passable attire she could pull out of her personal closet. An air of dread gripped her and sent her heart sinking as she came to realized just what that outfit was. The gown in question was of a thick, insulated, dark purple material with a violet silk vest over the front and the sleeves that reached the ends of her hooves. Cut emeralds were embedded in the cloth, sparkling like distant green stars in a vast purple sky. The skirt was similar, with a lighter colored silk covering over the thicker base and streaks of green embroidery running the length of the train.
“Well, yes, I suppose,” she said with a low chuckle. “It’s just something I’ve been saving for a special occasion.”
A very specific special occasion indeed. The sleeves and shoulders still stretched from all the running Rarity had forced it through were quickly becoming a stark reminder of that failure of a night, and though the one she had been saving it for was now finally able to enjoy it, she received no pleasure from his praise.
“You look rather dashing yourself,” Rarity said, returning the compliment. “That is to say, your suit, you wear it well,” she, recognizing the dangerous potential of her words being interpreted as flirtatious and dire consequences of such a possible misunderstanding after everything that had transpired between the two, quickly added. “It looks,” she was about to continue, but an extra stitch in the suit jacket, right next to one of the small openings in the back that let him stretch out his wings, caught the seamstress’s eye. It was a small detail, one that many would have missed, but then, there weren’t many who could match Rarity’s knack for observation or her ability to discern the differences between shades of black, and so in her view at least the thread in that extra stitch was very clearly lighter than the material of the rest of the jacket.
“Did something happen here?” she asked with a gesture toward the area with the stitching.
“Huh? Oh. That.” Spike rolled his shoulders and took a step back. “Yeah, uh, I was in a hurry and tore it while flying.”
“Did you fix this yourself?“ Rarity inquired. “It’s quite well done.”
“Um, no.” The dragon hesitated. “I went to Fluttershy.”
“Oh.”
Applejack and Rainbow Dash, their dresses and manes somewhat ruffled from their recent tiff, watched as Spike and Rarity turned away from each other in silence. A low groan escaped Rainbow. “Come on, don’t stop now,” she whispered, pulling down on her face. “You were doing so well.”
“Were they?” Applejack with an eyebrow cocked upward questioned. “I couldn’t exactly hear what Spike and Rarity were talking about. You saying you could?”
“Well, no,” Rainbow admitted, “but they’re standing together and finally talking, and that’s more than what we’ve gotten them to do in a while.”
“Not exactly the highest bar to pass.”
“Sure, but it’s still progress. We just have to move it along a bit.” Rainbow Dash tapped her chin thoughtfully. “We need another problem, something only Spike and Rarity can solve together. You think we can stage a kidnapping?”
Applejack opened her mouth with a protest on the tip of her tongue, but before she could speak, Pinkie Pie rushed inside toward her and Rainbow. Her sudden entrance stole the attention of every being inside and a few from those just outside hanging around the courtyard’s entrance, and now all eyes were upon her. Even Octavia in all her experience and professionalism found herself curious and her bow lingering on the same string position, prolonging the note.
“I’m okay!” Pinkie Pie shouted, waving to those staring. “Everything’s fine, it’s all great, we’re all having a wonderful time. Hi Rarity! Hi Spike!” Her waves toward those two were more energetic and forceful, and they continued even after Rarity and Spike waved back. Instead, the gesture’s return seemed to drive Pinkie to wave even more forcefully. The two talked amongst themselves for a short moment, then with a shrug, they approached Pinkie, Applejack, and Rainbow Dash just as Fluttershy entered and made her way to the group as well.
“What’s going on?” Applejack whispered to Pinkie Pie.
Pinkie Pie lowered her voice. “Okay, I know we all agreed to leave Spike and Rarity alone so that they can resolve this weirdness between them, but, oh hey! Spike, Rarity!” she suddenly said as they drew close. “How’s it been?”
“Well, I suppose,” Rarity said. “Spike was telling me about all the work you put into the decorations.”
“Oh cool, you two are talking again. Haven’t seen that in a while. And you’re standing next to each other without running away. Good good, you two should keep that up.”
Spike and Rarity shared a glance before looking away. “So, um, was there something you needed?” Spike asked. He tried to hide the spreading blush on his face as Rarity did the same with the same limited success.
“Right. So don’t want to alarm anypony, but we’ve got an emergency on our hooves. Everything is not fine. It’s not all great, and we are not, I repeat, are not all having a wonderful time.”
“Can’t be that bad if Fluttershy’s not panicking,” Rainbow Dash noted with a motion toward the yellow pegasus who frowned at the jest at her expense. “I’m kidding. Seriously, what’s up? We out of punch or something?”
“Actually, there’s something I—“
“No, because we couldn’t serve punch in the first place,” Pinkie grumbled.
“Wait, really? But those are punch bowls. What else are you supposed to serve in those besides punch?”
“Um, there’s something you—“
“One’s got cucumber water, the other has—“
“Pinkie, the emergency?” Applejack prompted, directing the conversation back on topic.
“Right, right.” Pinkie Pie took a deep breath. “Creatures are getting bored. They’re just standing around in the courtyard looking miserable, and yeah, I get that it’s kind of part of the whole gala experience, but this is still a party, and when we promised these students a party, we promised fun.”
“Everypony, please, there’s—“
“What about the piñata?” Spike asked.
“Already done.” Pinkie shuddered. “It didn’t last long against Yona. We need to do something, something fun and exciting, and we need to do it fast.”
“Okay.” Spike rubbed his claws together. “Come on, what would Twilight do? Okay, let’s see. Maybe, okay, what about this? I’ll talk to Octavia and Vinyl, see if they’ll take any requests. We can try organizing a group dance, like the Pony Pokey or conga or something. And, Pinkie Pie, you’ve got a stash of party games somewhere around here in case of party game emergencies, don’t you?”
“That I do, but it’s going to take a little time to set everything up.”
“Alright, then, um, everypony else, um.” Spike looked around the group, from Pinkie Pie to Rainbow to Applejack to finally Rarity.
“The rest of us will mingle with our guests,” Rarity suggested. “Socializing with the students should stave off some of the boredom and buy some time for you and Pinkie.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Rainbow Dash said as Applejack beside her nodded in agreement.
“Okay.” Spike took in a deep, calming breath. “We can do this. Let’s get in there and—“
“Everypony! Listen to me!” Fluttershy’s exclamation cut through the discussion, silencing the group and drawing their complete and collective attention. The pegasus allowed her breathing to slow to a more moderate rate and herself to calm down. “There’s a giant hot air balloon outside.”
Seconds passed in silence as the group tried to process the words that had just been spoken. “Beg your pardon?” Applejack said.
“There’s a giant hot air balloon outside,” Fluttershy repeated. “It’s right above the courtyard.”
Spike’s stare was incredulous. “A giant hot air balloon? You sure?”
Fluttershy nodded. “It’s covered in bright, flashing lights so it’s pretty easy to see. There’s music coming from it too.“
“A lost traveller perhaps?” Rarity considered aloud. “Or some sort of publicity stunt?”
“Awful late for either ballooning or advertising,” said Applejack with a frown. “But I can’t think of any better reasons why there’d a hot air balloon with lights and music out and about at this hour.“
“Well we’re not going to figure any of this out standing around inside.” Rainbow leaped into the air, and with a quick flap of her wings, she was airborne. “Come on, let’s see if it’s still out there.”
The rest of the group followed Rainbow Dash out into the courtyard. Crowds of students were murmuring wildly and pointing upward, all with their necks craned and heads tilted toward the evening sky. ”There,” Fluttershy whispered, directing the eyes of those around her with her hoof.
”Good golly,” Applejack breathed as others dropped their jaws or gasped at the sight of the floating behemoth. Too surprised to play the pedant, Spike didn’t bother correcting Fluttershy, that the massive transport above had long since left the hot air balloon classification and had settled comfortably in the category of airship. A good portion of their view of the sky was taken up by the ship’s yellow mass, and those flashing lights, alternating between yellow and pink, threatened to outshine the stars.
“Shot in the dark, did any of you plan this?” Rainbow Dash asked. There was a show of head shakes in response.
Spike squinted at the ship, moving his head here and there as he searched for a better angle. “I don’t think it’s moving.”
“Maybe one of y’all with wings could check up on them,” Applejack suggested.
“Good idea. Rainbow, you’re the fastest out of all of us, wait.” Spike’s eyes narrowed. “Is that a pony? What are they—“
Screams from the students fill the air as the pony-like figure leapt from the ship’s deck and sent themselves plummeting to the ground. Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, Spike, and several winged students readied themselves, their wings spread and knees bent as they prepared for takeoff. Before any of them could take flight, however, a clump of yellow cloth and material shot out of the being’s back that expanded and inflated into the shape of a large rubber chicken. The being’s descent slowed to a leisurely float, and the entire courtyard now packed as those indoors went out to see what was all the commotion watched the being make their way to them.
The gala goers scattered to make room for the being, a stallion they could now determine, and his rubber chicken. He landed with a form that might have impressed even Rainbow Dash had he not suddenly tripped over his own feet as he attempted to bow. He didn’t stay down for very long, having bounced right back on to his feet, and with a shared look of apprehension, the six members of the School of Friendship faculty present approached the newcomer. He was a lanky fellow wearing a yellow shirt, and as he removed his helmet he revealed a messy brown mane, nearly as wild as Pinkie Pie’s, and the widest, brightest grin.
“Heya, party animals!” he shouted, throwing his forelegs into the air. Confetti somehow bursted out of the ground around him. “Are you ready for a good time?”
“Cheese Sandwich?” all six exclaimed with a mix of confusion, shock, and, in Pinkie’s case, relief.
“What are you doing here?” asked Spike, his manners forgotten in his surprise.
The stallion laughed. “Well, Pinkie Pie asked me to be here of course,” he said with a wave directed at the pink earth pony before pulling out an opened envelope. “She sent me this letter telling me about how you were all having this huge party, love the name by the way, prom, prooom and needed my help getting it all set up.”
“Oh.” Spike winced, the enthusiasm radiating from the stallion becoming painful. “So, thanks for showing up, but, um, you’re kind of late.”
“Late? What are you taking about?” Cheese Sandwich zoomed over and threw a foreleg around Spike’s shoulders. “Looks like the party just started,” he said with a chuckle. “I mean, I know I didn’t make the date Pinkie sent me, that was my bad, I had a little trouble getting to Ponyville, but that wasn’t even the date of the party, and I’m here now. Come on, what’ll need old Cheese to do?”
“Everything!” Pinkie Pie answered before anyone else could. “We need everything. Pull all the stops, and stat. We’ve got bored party guests here.”
“Bored guests?” Cheese Sandwich gasped. “Oh boy, this is serious. Let’s get to work. Where’s your party cannon?”
“At home,” Pinkie said glumly. “I wasn’t allowed to bring it.”
“Not allowed? What kind of party is this?” He pressed a hoof to his lips and let out a loud, shrill whistle. A pair of colorful artillery pieces parachuted down to him and Pinkie. The two looked to each other, and a smile slowly creeped across Pinkie’s face.
“Let’s get this party started!” the two screamed, and with a tug at the trigger the cannons showered the courtyard with confetti, streamers, and balloons. At the table of refreshments, the trays of cheese cubes and crackers were blown away and replaced with stacks of cupcakes, bags of chips with containers of dip, and much much more as the clear liquid in the punch bowls became bubbly and carbonated, with one turning purple and other bright red. Loudspeakers fell from the sky belting out heavy beats and loud dance tracks along with a completely inflated bounce house shaped like Twilight’s castle as Pinkie and Cheese stirred something into the fountain water, turning it chocolate.
And all Spike could do was watch as the gala, all that planning and time, the sacrifice he foolishly made, devolved into chaos. His legs turned to jelly, and he fell on his backside.
“Spike!” Rarity rushed to the dragon’s side. “Are you alright?”
“Y-Yeah, just, yeah.” Spike swallowed. “Just a little overwhelmed.”
“Well, no one’s looking bored anymore,” Rainbow noted, gesturing to the crowds of cheering students dancing to the music. “So emergency dealt with?”
Applejack ducked her head just in time to dodge the beach ball that had been tossed in her direction. “Doesn’t look like much of a gala anymore, though.”
“Should we try to stop them?” Fluttershy asked, barely audible over the noise.
Spike’s voice eluded him for several moments before it finally returned. “I don’t, I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe we—“
A geyser suddenly erupted from the fountain and out of the fountain stepped a long snake-like being drenched in chocolate. The creature gasped for air. coughing and pounding their chest as liquid cocoa was expelled from their ears and nostrils, inciting grimaces of disgust from the dragon and the four remaining mares. As the creature shook off the excess chocolate, a set of mismatched limbs was revealed, with a scaly lizard leg paired with the leg of a goat and a raptor’s talons with a lion’s paw. The horns on the being’s head were just as absurd, there being both an antler and the twisted screw of a goat horn
“Discord?” the six sans Pinkie Pie exclaimed with a mix of shock, apprehension, and, mostly from Rarity, continued nausea at the chocolate still leaking from the draconequus’s facial orifices.
A pair of misshapen yellow eyes sprouted from the goat horn with a loud pop. The horn cracked open, and from the opening grew a single fang. “Eh, not exactly,” the horn spoke in Discord’s voice.
“That could’ve gone better,” grumbled the rest of the draconequus, their voice different from the horn’s, more feminine and with more snark than smugness but still oddly familiar. The draconequus wiped off the last of the chocolate, and there on the creature’s head was Twilight Sparkle’s mulberry face with her ever recognizable look of irritation.
“Twilight?” Applejack said slowly, the first one to recover. “What’s going on? Why’s your head on top of Discord’s body?”
The strange amalgamation sighed as they brushed down their body, revealing the purple fur of Twilight instead of Discord’s brown that they were familiar with. “It’s too long and complicated to explain right now. We need to—“
“Oh please,” the goat horn scoffed, “what’s so long and complicated about us having to share a body to escape Tartarus after Tirek and that brat of an ex-student, I blame the lack of corporal punishment by the way, managed to steal exactly half of both our magic and left us to rot after we solved the friendship problem they were having.”
“Wait wait wait, hold on a sec,” Rainbow Dash said with a hoof raised. “Are you saying Tirek and Cozy Glow are out? Like out-of-Tartarus out?”
If a horn could ever look smug, this one certain did. “Well, no, I certainly didn’t say exactly that, but I do hope that was heavily implied. Because I most certainly was implying that.”
“But all of you should’ve known this,” Twilight’s voice said, becoming frantic as the gestures the body was making as it spoke. “I sent Spike instructions to evacuate and inform Princess Celestia in my last letter. Didn’t you get it?”
All turned to Spike. “Um, was that the letter you sent on the day we had finals scheduled for?” he asked.
“It might have been.” The draconequus with Twilight’s face nodded. “Yes, yes, I think so. Why? Did something happen?”
Spike and Applejack shared a quick glance. “Not important, not when we’ve got a pair of power hungry, magic stealing villains running amok,” Applejack said. “Twilight, I’m thinking we—“
The airship above burst into flames with a resounding boom.