Movement 1: Moderato. Court of Moon and Sun
The piece opened with a bustling winding melody from the middle reaches of the cello. It was evening in Canterlot. The shopkeepers were closing up and heading home, ready to greet their families – their lovely spouses, their joyful foals, their aged, wise parents. Now was the time for rest and relaxation, the day’s labors done and the night’s entertainment ahead.
The melody grew a bit more free and wild as the evening progressed. Wine flowed freely (and Octavia played a silly, intricate trill, the song of a pony free of cares, giddy with joy, and perhaps just slightly intoxicated), and ponies danced and sang. Overhead, the sun was descending smoothly. All was right with the world.
After some time – a few minutes or so – Octavia brought in the second group of themes and melodies. One, in the higher reaches of the cello, was regal, royal, and strong – Celestia, Princess of the Day, ruler of the land. Her theme gradually weakened a tiny bit – it was the end of the day, after all – but there was no mistaking the solid power at the core of the melody. The middle voices gradually changed to conform to it, following its outline and contours in a grand melodic procession from the mid-range to the highest reaches of the instrument; the voices of ponies who loved their ruler and would follow her lead in all things.
And the third melody, the lowest of the three, began softly but steadily gained power. It was mysterious and transitory, shifting in and out, impossible to keep an ear on, yet a constant presence nonetheless. It built and grew, expanding as evening changed to dusk, and then dusk to twilight. Luna Equestris, who ruled the night, had arrived. The moon rose, and her theme swelled, rising to the middle of the cello. And the three melodies played in a harmonious duet, the two rulers of Equestria presiding over their beloved subjects.
And then Luna’s theme came closer to Celestia’s, and Celestia’s to Luna’s, and they met in the middle, and the three voices sang as one – still distinct, somehow, Octavia kept them just enough apart for that – but in perfect unison. It was Equestria as it ought to be. Perfect harmony and friendship between all ponies.
And then the voices combined into one single, glorious melody that swept over the Court in the audience. Was it a faint rebuke of their greedy schemes? It was impossible to say. All that could be said was that Octavia had captured the idea of unity, of harmony, between Night, and Day, and the ponies in between – the citizenry of Equestria.
The movement ended on a high, uplifting sequence of notes, and a perfect authentic cadence to complete the phrase. Everything was full of promise and hope.
Movement 2: Allegro. Honor of Moon and Sun
The next melody seemed similar to the first; a recapitulation of the townspony theme. It was faster too; it was like there was some sort of celebration going on, and the ponies were moving about and frolicking at a rapid pace. But no sooner had the theme taken form than Octavia brought in another – this one not nearly as pleasant.
It was jarring and discordant, a breakneck set of notes that raced through the concert hall. It disregarded all conventional rules of tonality and harmony, sounding almost chaotic as it darted up and down and overran the rest of the music. There was some pattern to it, though, something that stopped it from just being chaotic noise that not even Octavia could play in an acoustically pleasing manner – or rather, not so much a pattern as a target. It was overwhelming the townspony themes, systematically mimicking them, moving to those frequencies and notes, and supplanting them. The pony theme became more frantic in response, not a celebration anymore but some desperate race.
And then the alicorns arrived.
Celestia’s theme, powerful and strong. Luna’s, mysterious, yet inescapable. They boxed in the discordant mess, straightening out the conflicting melodic lines and restoring unity and harmony. In the space of a few moments, there was one again peace and harmony from the cello. And, slowly, the alicorn themes faded too, leaving once again only the happy townsponies.
But then the discordance began again, and this time, it wasn’t just one single theme. There were multiple threats, represented by multiple lines that eschewed harmony and tonality. One line oozed and squeezed its way along the cello, a creeping mess that swallowed up the higher notes. One jumped and darted about, breaking any other melody that it touched. One seemed to mimic the Ponyville theme until it broke away, and left silence in its wake.
It was difficult to explain how the music sounded good. Any of the lines on their own would have been better described as noise instead of music. But somehow, through Octavia’s superlative skill, there was a musicality even to the chromatic, clashing tones. They worked together in a dark and twisted way, not exactly allied, but perhaps pleased to split up the townsponies among themselves. Together, they had created a new melody, one violent and jagged, which drew the ear in but left the listener disturbed nonetheless.
The alicorns returned, but this fight was much harder than the last. Celestia’s theme battled the creeping oozing tones, but the mimic moved to fill in the gap. Luna moved to defend, leaving the lower notes where she had been residing, and another monster took the place she left. The alicorn and monster themes ran all over the cello, sometimes barely distinguishable from each other, sometimes widely apart, but all together a gorgeous cavalcade of sound – an epic battle, for solo cello. And, within it all, was still that one thin melody of the townsponies, now reduced to a ragged edge and a few notes at periodic intervals, but still very much present.
In the end, of course, the alicorns could not be overcome. Slowly, one by one, the monster themes sank away, retreating to whatever domain that spawned them. The alicorns remained, and the townsponies sounded in joyous shouts. They were saved again. Their princesses loved them, and would cherish and protect them for all time.
But the ending of the movement was sadder, almost tired. Celestia’s drooped, sagging down the cello, and Luna’s was a hair slow. They were alicorns, powerful, rulers of the country, but… well, they were exhausted.
(And Octavia had hesitated here during practicing, wondering if it would perhaps be more politically astute to make Luna’s theme unblemished. But she’d decided against that. She would play the piece honestly. She was done perverting her music and her ability for the will of the Court.)
The movement ended on a few sad, soft chords… still in a major key, still ultimately triumphant, but the happy atmosphere of the beginning was long gone.
Movement 3: Lento. Lament of Moon and Sun
For the first time in the piece, the middle theme of the townsponies was absent. This movement was a long, slow duet between the sisters Equestris.
The time was unclear; possibly it wasn’t even at the same time. Alicorns were nigh-omnipotent, and it wasn’t inconceivable that it could somehow be day for Luna and night for Celestia. But whichever the case, neither one seemed preoccupied with their Court or their other official duties. The pieces were reflective, deep affairs that required intense concentration.
Celestia’s theme continued, similar to how it had been played in the first and second movements, but it was even more worn now. Echoes of the defeated monsters sounded, little reminders of all the work that the Sun Princess had performed, and what work would remain for the next day, and the next, and the next. There was always some new threat, always some new horrible monster. And Celestia’s theme soared above those echoes, unleashing glorious sequences of heavenly notes, notes resounding the brilliance and beauty of the Sun… at least at first… but then it slowly lowered, incapable of continuing. Could even the Sun Herself fight endlessly, day after day, without letting the pressure get to her?
Her theme faded in prominence, and Luna’s took center stage. Like Celestia’s, Luna’s theme was more worn now. But there was something in it that hadn’t been in Celestia’s, something that strengthened it, prevented it from falling like Celestia’s had. The echoes of the monsters were still there, poking and prodding at Luna’s floating, dreamy theme, but they couldn’t make as much of an impact.
Because there was an echo of Celestia’s too.
Luna’s theme didn’t fight the echoes; one would only waste energy fighting a memory. It just disregarded them, played over them, regarded them as background clutter. And when it couldn’t quite manage this, echoes of Celestia’s song filled the gaps. Luna’s theme, after a bit of quavering, stayed steady and strong. Indefatigable, even.
The two melodies then took equal prominence in a very slow and rich duet. The two voices started out complimenting each other, building to a glorious pinnacle, but then they began to diverge, conflicting. Something wasn’t quite right, although it was very hard to say what. Was Celestia’s theme just a shade off? Luna’s tried to help her, sending a few notes to her so that they could take on some of the music’s burden, but Celestia disregarded them. She was the elder sister, the stronger one, and she couldn’t accept help like that. Her sister needed all her own strength; Celestia couldn’t weaken her. So the Celestia theme studiously ignored Luna’s, and, eventually – far more slowly than Luna’s, but eventually – it regained its power and accuracy.
The movement ended with a duet of harmony between the sisters. It lingered as it ended, with Octavia seemingly reluctant to move on. It was the last time, after all, and thus, like a final goodbye, it could be allowed to drag on a bit.
Movement 4: Vivace. Madness of Moon and Sun
The monsters were back, and stronger than ever. Hateful and depraved themes running all over the cello, leaving the good ponies of Equestria no room, no notes, not even a single frequency to sing.
The alicorns appeared, and at first, all was as it was before, but then their themes began to change. It was mild with Luna’s; perhaps a touch – but only a touch – harder and more determined. But her theme still misted into existence around the bad ones, still took them down and vanquished them, rendering the frequencies safe once again.
But Celestia’s transition was much more significant. It built in intensity, rising to a titanic level. Her theme growing louder and heavier as the stress continued to overwhelm her, Celestia was a mare on fire.
She pounded into the monsters, her melody booming from the cello and blasting over the concert hall. There was no mercy or compassion as she fought, and she didn’t let her enemies retreat either. Luna’s opponents crumbled and slunk away; Celestia’s burned up and vanished. In Luna’s domain, the townsponies sang in relieved happiness at being saved. In Celestia’s, there was relief in their tones, and happiness… but also hints of fear.
The frequency range began to narrow as Celestia cleansed each note and then moved on. Luna’s regions flourished, building once again once the monsters were gone, but Celestia’s seemed oddly muted. Her theme was still regal, noble even, yet it was clear that something was wrong. She was dangerous, somehow, in a way that not even the monsters were.
The two met in the middle, and there was a very soft, quiet section, where the two themes could only chirp at each other. Celestia, with whatever remained of her sanity, horrified by what had happened to her… and Luna, horrified as well. Slowly, Luna’s theme built a little. Notes were sent to Celestia’s region of the cello. She was offering help and aid.
And Corona rejected them.
Her theme flared up again, sweeping up and down the cello, a naked attempt to take the whole country, to grasp it and secure it, to make sure that no monsters could ever return. The townspony theme flared up and then died down to a whisper; even Luna’s theme was pushed back. For a few minutes, all that remained was Corona’s theme, now a burning and fiery rage, that of a queen gone mad and holding her whole country underhoof.
Luna’s theme rose up a couple of times, only to be smacked down. In the end, all that remained was Corona, and the movement ended on haunting, ominous tones. The end, it seemed to say, was nigh.
Movement 5. Presto. Battle of Moon and Sun
(And that was all that was known, the score had been lost and only the title remained; Octavia was moving blindly from this point on. But it didn’t matter. She understood things now; Lyra had taught her what she needed, and her ability would do the rest. Octavia could surmise where the others had gone wrong, and she could do more than simply avoiding their mistakes. She could play the piece correctly.
And so she began.)
The battle between Luna and Corona was as epic and titanic as it had to be. A breakneck magic slugmatch, with burning fire and freezing ice rippling along the cello, crashing into each other and destroying all in its path. Notes pounded into other notes as beautiful scales and chords marched off to war against each other. It was a brilliant, brutal work.
But that wasn’t all it was.
Because Luna’s themes weren’t simply that of a hero fighting a monster, or a trickster out maneuvering a giant. They were reluctant. Restrained, somehow. Luna wasn’t fighting at full power – not because she was stupid, nor as part of some plan, but because she couldn’t bring herself to. This was her sister, after all.
And there was more to Corona than chaotic madness. She wasn’t just another monster with more power and a halo of fire over her head. There were still the remnants of her previous themes in there; those of the pony who had only wanted to protect and shepherd her subjects. Her theme didn’t pound out the few free notes with cruelty, or smother them with cold abandon. When it silenced the townspony notes, it was accidental, a side effect of her battle against her sister. She didn’t’ even want to hurt them; she wanted to protect and guard them, though her theme laid waste to every note it touched. She was still evil, she still needed to be stopped, but she was not some mindless psychopath.
The battle continued as it had to. Luna was pushed back. She had always been the weaker sister, after all, and what’s more, she was handicapping herself. Besides, this was how the legends said the battle went – that Luna had been losing until she’d used the Elemental power. And that was what had to come next – Luna deciding to invoke the power of the Elements and banishing Corona to the heart of the sun, to remain imprisoned forevermore.
But why did she turn them around? Was it with strength and righteousness, a cold fury that brushed aside all qualms and set out to march forwards and bury her ersatz sister?
Was it with cold, calculated cunning, a trickster’s darting and weaving amongst the forest of notes, as if the whole fight beforehand had been some intricate plan?
Was it with sheer magical skill, a massive spell barrage that could nullify even Celestia’s mighty defenses?
No.
(That was what the others had done, Octavia thought; they had been playing for Luna, had wanted to impress Luna, and they either hadn’t understood their princess or they just hadn’t cared and had lied in their music. They had made Luna out to be a mastermind or a heroic soldier, who battled evil without qualm – a saintly figure who never once doubted herself. But none of that was true, it couldn’t be true when it was two close sisters fighting, and how foolish the other performers been, to think they could impress their ruler with a facile interpretation of her history or a flat-out lie.)
Luna’s theme faded; Corona’s ascended. The moon princess didn’t seem to have the power to take down her sister, and what’s more, she seemed reluctant to try. How could she, who still retained her sanity, fight her best and closest friend? Luna seemed paralyzed in indecision.
And then the townspony theme returned.
It wasn’t consonant anymore. It was panicked and racing, just like this whole section, but frazzled and at the edge of breaking entirely. It zipped around, dodging Luna and Corona – for how could it hope to stand in their way? – helpless. It cried to the heavens. ‘Save us,’ it seemed to whisper.
And Luna’s theme took note.
Whatever reluctance Luna was feeling, her melody began to grow stronger. It enveloped the pony theme, encompassing and defending it. She would hate to attack her sister, but she could not see her subjects burn.
And Corona’s next attack was just… blunted. It had no effect; Luna’s theme was unchanged and unmoved. The subsequent blows were similarly useless. Luna had finally been given reason to unleash her full power, and with her own talents and the magic of friendship – the friendship and love she felt for all the ponies in her domain – even Corona could not stand against her.
The ponies cried out again as Corona’s theme redoubled and charged. And, in a reluctant but decisive move, Luna’s theme advanced to meet her sister’s.
They crashed, squarely in the center of the cello.
And there was silence.
(Octavia paused for three measures, counting off the beats with a mental metronome more precise than any physical clock. Three measures exactly, no more, no less, and on to the finale).
(And the finale, of course, would have been played by the others in triumph; one wouldn’t want to offend Luna by implying that her victory was anything less than the most supreme good. Maybe a few would go the other direction and imply that the win was bad or that Luna regretted it. But Octavia knew better; she would play it honestly and truthfully, representing fairly a mare who had been forced to strike down her sister, but who would eventually understand that it was the right thing to do).
Luna’s theme returned, sad – no, distraught. Hopeless and helpless. It mourned, briefly trying to imitate her sister’s before giving up. The mare seemed almost broken.
But then the townspony theme began again. Softly at first, damaged and weakened, but then growing stronger. Soon it was shouting. Luna had saved them, and they were safe. Safe from the Tyrant Sun.
Luna’s theme remained sad.
The townspony theme swelled even more, a rush of joy – and love, love for their remaining princess, who had protected them from the nigh-omnipotent lunatic. They were still alive. Luna’s little ponies, whom she still loved and cared for very much, were still alive thanks to her actions.
And Luna’s theme became calmer. Still sad, still mourning, but now… resolved, in a sense. She had done the right thing. Her inner turmoil was at least somewhat soothed. She had done her duty and saved her subjects. She hadn’t enjoyed it – she’d hated every moment of it – but she’d still done the right thing.
The ending of the piece was not triumphant. It was not the shout of a victorious army returning from war, or the conquering hero standing atop the slain monster. But it was hopeful. It was the townsponies, and it was another day, and they were still alive. And, above them, they still had a princess, one who would shepherd them and protect them, even from her own family.
Octavia finished the piece and bowed.
Now I hear my fate. She took a deep breath. Though she shuns me, castigates me, throws me into space, I will not be ashamed. I played the piece correctly. Of this, I am certain.
When she looked up, she was slightly amused to see that every head in the house was looking at Luna, as if waiting for her to tell them their opinions. She looked up at the alicorn too, and then paused, taken aback.
Were those tears in the Princess’s eyes?
Luna paused for a moment, as if unable to speak, before managing to open her mouth. "Brava," she said. "Brava."
And then Princess Luna Equestris began to pound her hooves in a clap of applause, and the others joined in, and the deafening roar almost knocked Octavia Philharmonica off the stage.