//------------------------------// // Lunar Banishment // Story: Melodious Desideratum // by Desideratium //------------------------------// “Okay, we leave you alone for a week, and you land yourself in the hospital.” You look up from your spellbook, courtesy of Royal Riff, who took a trip to your apartment to pick up some reading material, to see an unexpected familiar face. Your old friend Noteworthy is standing in the doorway, a combination of exasperation and relief on his face. Out in the hallway, Lyra peeks out from behind Noteworthy’s vast build, trying to make herself visible. “What are you two doing here?” you demand. You close the book with a sharp snap and set it gingerly on your bedside table. “Well, when you decided to get up and move to Canterlot, we thought we’d come to visit, so you can say goodbye properly,” Lyra pushes past Noteworthy into the room. “I sent a letter,” you say sheepishly. “Yeah, we got it. That’s what convinced us to make the trip.” Noteworthy throws a foreleg around Lyra’s shoulders, and she snuggles up next to him affectionately. You stare at them. “What was that all about? Since when were you two so . . . open about it?” “Wait . . .” Lyra says, her head separating from Noteworthy’s chest. “You knew?” “Always. Notes isn’t very good at keeping secrets from me.” Noteworthy smiles proudly. “Guilty as charged. I proclaimed my undying love for her a few days after you left.” “But that’s not what you’re here for!” Lyra throws you back to the present, a little red-faced. She nudges Noteworthy in the ribs. “What happened to you?” “Nopony told you?” You don’t really want to rehash the details of that night, since the pain still lingers just under the surface of your skin. “Some violinist named Royal Riff said that you were mugged.” “He got that right,” you mutter darkly. “Details?” Lyra inquires. You sigh mightily. “Walking home from the concert. The former conductor shows up with a pair of thugs. They beat my skull in for a while. Any more questions?” “Lyrica?” Lyra looks knowingly at you. “You know her?” “I read it in the news. Some pianist died, and the old conductor retiring. Some piece of work named Lyrica takes his place.” “Frederic Horseshoepin. He was my predecessor, and I don’t want you throwing around his death casually like that!” Your voice has risen. You haven’t realized before, but respect for the old pianist is extremely important to you. The accidental insensitivity on Lyra’s part hits a raw nerve. A tense silence fills the room. Noteworthy and Lyra are staring at you, surprised by the outburst. You’re breathing heavily, and the heartbeat sensor next to your bed is going berserk. “Sorry,” Lyra squeaks. She looks scared. “No . . .” You take a moment to catch your breath. You’ve lost a lot of blood, and you’ve found it a lot harder to draw oxygen from the air these days. “I’m sorry, Lyra. I shouldn’t have lost my temper. You didn’t mean any disrespect.” You take a second to control your breathing, watching your heart rate gradually drop back to normal. “Are you okay?” asks Noteworthy cautiously. “You seem . . . different.” “What do you mean?” “Well . . . back in Ponyville, you were always so . . . quiet. Even around us.” “I’m fine.” “Hey! I thought you stopped using that word!” A muffled voice sounds from out in the hall. Symphony enters the room. She casts her eyes across Lyra and Noteworthy. “You’ve got visitors, I see.” “Yeah. Notes, Lyra, this is Symphony. Symphony . . . Noteworthy and Lyra Heartstrings. They’re friends of mine from Ponyville. Symphony is a violinist in the Royal Canterlot Orchestra.” “A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Symphony nods politely to Lyra and Noteworthy, and then looks back at you. “I was just talking to one of the doctors . . .” “And?” you say eagerly. You sit up as far as your back brace will allow. “Sure you want to know?” “Pretty sure.” “I don’t know, are you?” “Symphony, I refuse to play your little game. What did they say?” “Fine! You’re no fun, but you can leave tomorrow morning.” Symphony sticks out her lip, feigning exasperation. You fall back on your pillows with a dull thump. The soft bedclothes support most of your fall, but the impact still sends a quick jolt of pain up your spine. Symphony sees the disappointment on your face and trots over to your bedside to look you in the face. Her purple mane hangs over you, unpleasantly making it into your mouth. “Hey, cheer up. Just one more night, right?” You spit out a few strands of violet hair. “Easy for you to say. The food sucks, the service is only passable, I hurt all over, and I have these infernal . . . tubes stuck in me!” You wave a foreleg around, flipping the pair of transparent tubes around wildly. “Careful!” Lyra yelps. You’re not worried about damaging the equipment, but you lower your hoof to put Lyra’s worries to rest. “Just take it easy, okay?” Symphony croons, her face contorted into something that would be appropriate to use around newborn foals. “You wouldn’t want to get overexcited, would you?” “Symphony, now is not the time,” you warn, annoyance layering your voice. The violinist wipes the horrid simper off her face, but continues to grin. “By the way, Vinyl and Treble Clef were over earlier today.” “Come again?” “Treble Clef. Vinyl has taken to calling Octavia that.” Your ears perk up at the mention of the cellist. “What? When?” Noteworthy gives a short bark of laughter. “Whoa! How’s it going, Captain Mood-Swing?” You physically wave his comment away with your untapped foreleg and continue to stare at Symphony. “Around noon. You were asleep,” Symphony replies, examining the remains of your dinner on a metal platter. “Well, tell them I said hi.” “Will do.” Lyra and Noteworthy move closer to you cautiously, as though still nervous about another outburst. “Guys, I’m not going to bite,” you sigh. All it takes is one stay in the hospital for everypony to start treating you differently. So, uh . . .” Noteworthy looks around the room, searching for something to focus on besides your face. “We saw your performance the other day. . .” “It was incredible!” Lyra gushes. “Though . . .” She frowns curiously. “What you were playing wasn’t on the program.” You laugh naturally. “Funny you should mention that . . .” “We kind of . . . improvised.” Symphony beams, still relishing the memory of publicly humiliating Lyrica. “Lyra could tell,” Noteworthy puts in. “When the song changed, she leaned all the way forward in her seat. I bet the pony behind us wasn’t too happy . . .” He gives Lyra a little shake. “Actually, he was probably pretty weirded out by how she sits normally, anyway!” “Notes, I told you not to bring that up.” “Anyway, when Lyrica lost control of you, she started conducting in her seat. Perfectly, I might add. She only stopped when your duet with that grey mare started.” You look at Lyra, who is staring at her hooves modestly. “Lyra, I didn’t know you had that in you! Did you ever consider taking Lyrica’s place? We do need a new conductor, since the old one . . .” You and Symphony exchange dark looks. “Whatever happened to Lyrica? Did they find her after she . . . lost it?” You can tell that Noteworthy didn’t want to say “beat you up”. “Yeah. I guess they didn’t expect me to survive through the night. They wanted to keep it quiet.” You stretch widely, causing several satisfying pops in various joints. “However, since I am very much alive, I could spread the word. From what I heard, she was very surprised when a platoon of Royal Guards showed up at her front door and hauled her to the palace to meet with Celestia.” “I would have loved to sit in on that one,” says Symphony wistfully. “Yeah, me too. Riffs and Octavia got to, and they said it was a little scary. They’d never seen Celestia so mad—Princess Luna had to step in to stop her from sending Lyrica straight to the moon.” “You’re exaggerating,” says Lyra. “Nah. Royal Riff was dead serious. As it turns out, they just banished her to the Canterlot Caverns under the palace. Personally, I would have petitioned for lunar imprisonment.” Noteworthy and Symphony laugh, but Lyra looks stern. “Really now, being banished to the moon is fit for those who . . . I don’t know, try to destroy Equestria or something. Not . . .” “Attempted murder?” you finish. “Well, yeah.” “I know it’s far-fetched. I just think it’s about time we have another one sent to the moon. How long has it been since the last one? About a thousand years?” When Lyra continues to eye you reproachfully, you add, “Relax, Lyra. I’m kidding. She got what she deserved, and everything’s fine and dandy.” Symphony stands. “Sorry to leave so soon, but I’m planning on dinner with Octavia. It wouldn’t be the first time that I’ve ditched her, though, so I’d rather make it to this one.” “Okay. Bye, Symph.” “That’s new.” “Don’t worry. It’ll probably the first and last time I’ll use it. It sounded a lot better in my head than in words. Oh, and if you run into any of the doctors on the way out, could you tell them I could use a drink?” “Sure thing. See you.” “Bye, Symphony.”