//------------------------------// // Part IV ~ Final Call // Story: On The Rocks // by 8_Bit //------------------------------// Oh for the love of… I hate fancy dress. By that I mean, dressing fancy. Like at the Grand Galloping Gala, for example. I performed there one year, with the Royal Aide assigned to me making sure my performance didn’t drift into anything too hardcore. And it being an event held in the royal castle, there was a strict dress code. I was required, strictly, to wear a dress. And I hate dresses. Some kind of suit or tuxedo would’ve been awesome, but nope! Outdated, strictly-defined gender roles had me all dolled up and looking ridiculous. At least the gig paid well. Very well. Like, 'paying for a house deposit in one big hit' well... Fancy dress though, like the kind you get on Nightmare Night? I actually love that. Since we moved in together, me and Octy have done couples costumes every year. Yeah, couples costumes, even before we were official. I guess I should’ve seen the writing on the wall on that one, huh? Last year she was the most adorable lion in Equestria and I was her lion tamer (hehehe), the year before that she was an astronaut and I was a green-skinned alien, and before that… actually, I’m getting off-track here. The point is, I was feeling pretty damn self-conscious when the time came for me to knock on Octy’s bedroom door. After enough hours sat outside, the weather had taken a turn and it had started to rain. Even though we were under the gazebo, Allegra insisted we end the afternoon tea there, and return to the house to start getting ready for dinner. I was confused about how she was so ready to go straight into another meal right after lunch, seeing as I was still stuffed. But I didn’t account for how long it took high society ponies to get ready for their evening meals. My quizzical look when Allegra asked me what kind of gown I’d be wearing was clearly enough to cause her some shock, and she’d ushered me away. Octy had followed closely behind, grinning the whole time. I guessed she knew what was in store for me. And the width of her grin being about a nine out of ten, I figured that meant I was in trouble. Some of the thunder I’d thought I’d heard earlier was now definitely there, getting closer as the clouds turned jet black. When we left the gazebo, I felt the first few raindrops start landing on me, and by the time we got back to the house it had become a full downpour. Luckily we didn’t get too wet. Well, me Octy and Allegra didn’t, but the waiting staff all looked like they’d need to change their uniforms. It was at this point that Allegra had shooed Octy back to her room. And at first, I kept my cool. Until I was led (after miles of corridors) into a walk-in wardrobe about the size of the ballroom in Canterlot castle. Where dresses lined every single wall. Ahh shit. So going by my dislike for fancy dresses, it’s probably a bit easier to understand exactly why I felt so self-conscious. It took her a while to settle on something for me, but Allegra eventually picked out a sparkling red sequinned gown that, she said, went with my eyes. Damn her memory must be good, cause the only time she would have seen my red eyes was a tiny peek through the broken lenses. You know, while she was checking on me after my earlier head-bump. She’d given me some matching shoes that, luckily, I only had to wear on my hind legs. For fashion reasons, practicality, whatever I didn’t care. One less pair of shoes to worry about. But the worst part was when she’d sat me down, tapped a hoof on the floor and more ponies on her staff had appeared out of thin air. Not with food or drink, but makeup, perfume, and hair products. Once again: ahh shit. What even is time anyway? Because I have absolutely no idea how long I was sat down there. Apparently it was barely even an hour but it felt like years. I didn’t realise that the average Trottingham mare had all the skills of a criminal interrogator, but they were unrelenting as they yanked and twisted hair in both my mane and tail, and as they caked my face with weird smelling lotions and powders. My glasses had been the first thing to go, and every time I reached out to grab them, Allegra had batted my hoof away. Honestly, I don’t care what crime it was they were torturing me for, but by the time we were halfway done I was ready to confess to anything up to grand larceny. And when we were actually done, I could’ve bumped that up as far as treason. Not necessarily high treason though, I have my limits. Once Allegra finally dismissed her assistants with another tap of a hoof, I breathed a sigh of relief. And that’s when I found myself being spun around to face a mirror. Oh. Shit. My mane looked awesome. Kinda… windswept, almost like a pegasus? I ain’t too proud to admit that whoever styled it, they did a freaking amazing job. Rather than the usual spiky way I like to wear it, the fringe was pushed upwards to hold the whole mess of hair on my head up in a bob that’s… kinda leaning slightly backwards? I dunno how to explain it really, I am in no way a professional stylist. But I can say that I loved it, and I might have to consider getting it styled right before my gigs in the future. And sadly, everything from my eyebrows down was… meh. Well, I thought so at least. Like, don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the effort Allegra and her staff put into sprucing me up, but it was way too much makeup. I guess it looked okay, but it felt so thick on my face, I was probably going to clog a drain when I showered it all off. The whole ensemble was finished off as Allegra hung some clip-on hoop earings from my lobes. Which I actually kind of liked. But they’d get in the way if I tried to perform at the turntables while wearing them, so I decided this was probably going to be a one-time thing. Well, all done then! With Allegra needing some time to get herself ready for dinner, I went to leave. Which unfortunately led into a bit of an awkward situation. See, as soon as I made to put my glasses back on, she had protested. A lot of work went into my eyeliner, eyeshadow, eye-whatever, and she didn’t want my glasses to hide all that good effort. Now, I don’t normally do this, but I got good vibes from Allegra. So, after making sure that we were alone (and I mean extra sure, I don’t know how the house staff pull off their teleportation but I didn’t want any of them to overhear), I explained my photophobia to her. She was understanding. But, and this was kinda fair, she did express that she was a little irked when I’d failed to mention it before they put so much effort into my eye makeup. To which I explained my position, I don’t like talking about my disabilities. Especially in a quiet room full of ponies I don’t know. She conceded that this was a fair point, gave me directions to Octy’s bedroom, and said she’d see us both at dinner. Which was in a little over an hour, so I had some time to kill. As it turns out, about half of that was killed trying to find Octy’s bedroom in the sprawl of corridors that snaked around this place. Jeez, all they needed here were maps at every junction, since everything looks the same. Or even some damn signs. ‘You are here,’ and ‘Your marefriend is here,’, etcetera. Turns out I was on the wrong floor. Damnit. Regardless, I eventually found myself knocking on Octy’s door. And in the silence that followed, I started to notice just how loud the rain was as it pounded down on the roof above me. It must’ve been a heck of a storm, cause the wind was howling something fierce as well. Octy opened the door and I immediately felt the blood rush to my face. I’m pretty sure I’ve previously alluded to the attention deficit regions of my brain? Well as I looked at my marefriend in a simple white gown with a lace trim, in my head I suddenly found myself stood with her at an altar. A priest next to us, talking us through our vows. All our friends in attendance. The little diamonds sparkling in her eyes as we lean in to kiss… And then I snapped back to reality. One thing at a time, Scratch. “Oh Vinyl, you look beautiful,” Octavia gushed. “Gee, thanks,” I replied as I stepped into the room, booping my nose to hers. “You couldn’t have warned me about the fancy pants dinners here?” She giggled mischievously. “And deprive myself of that face you pulled when you realised? I daresay I chose the more… entertaining option here.” “You’re a real sadist when you wanna be, y’know?” ”And you’re a fine teacher.” I chuckled as I stepped into the room, and she closed the door behind me. The sight of Octavia in a white gown had definitely caught me more off-guard than I’d like to admit. If I was actually blushing, either she was being too polite to say anything, or she couldn’t actually see because of all the makeup smothering my face. More than likely, the second option. But whether or not she could see the effect it was having on me, I could definitely feel it. My heart was bouncing around in my chest like you wouldn’t believe, and that old saying about butterflies in your stomach? These ones must’ve been dancing to happy hardcore. So I tried to distract myself by looking around at her room, considering this is the room she grew up in, but… it was so, bland? It was almost exactly like the room her parents had put me up in, apart from a few more framed photos hanging on the wall, and a heavy-looking dressing table next to her wardrobe. Me and her, we made our bedroom back in Ponyville a little shrine to… well, us. When we started sharing a bedroom, that is. We’ve decorated the walls with posters, artwork, ticket stubs to shows we’ve been to, and pretty much anything else that we like. Yeah, we both like a lot of different things, but over time it became this awesome mashup of our two tastes. It was her idea in the first place. But this room… it was so devoid of her personal touches that it actually kinda hurt me to look at. The photos on the wall, each one was of her and her parents at some kind of formal get-together. Stiff, formal, proper. Like each picture had been specifically chosen to show the three of them off in a certain light. And I couldn’t help but wonder if this bedroom was actually like a cage to her. A cold, bland space that resists her colourful personality. Only her old trunk in the corner gave off any sense of the room having been lived-in, and that had only arrived today. A floorboard creaked next to me, and then Octavia was by my side, running a brush through her mane. I glanced at her, only for a second, but… well she’s pretty intuitive, and she pretty much knew exactly what was going through my head. “The only problem with a family estate,” she explained. “At least, one that goes back for a number of generations? Every room is historic. It carries with it a piece of the Melody family history. And unfortunately, when rooms are considered historic, putting personal touches on them is a task to be executed in careful moderation and with carefully moderated taste.” “So, no posters?” ”Indeed, no posters. Only a certain number of framed photographs permitted as well, and because of how old the wood is, Father would only let a qualified carpenter place photo hooks. Oh, and regardless of how often I begged him, I was not permitted to have the room painted pink.” I nodded my head in approval. “Pink certainly would have livened up the place.” She walked over to her dressing table and sat down at it, putting her hairbrush in a drawer and pulling out one of her toiletry bags. Ahh, it was the one that carried all her makeup, perfume and other stuff. Well, I knew I was going to be in for a world of silence as soon as that showed up. She’s a perfectionist by nature, and you can’t say a word to her while she’s doing her makeup. Why? She literally won’t hear you. Words go in one ear and out the other. It’s a little creepy, she zones out even more than when she’s working on a new musical piece. With nothing else to do at that moment, I shuffled over towards her bed and sat down on it, careful not to crease the dress Allegra had loaned to me. And I just… watched Octy, as she applied all those creams and powders to her own face. Which might seem a little creepy, if you’re small-minded, but I kinda like seeing the way she fixes her mind on a task and powers on through until it’s done. Apparently I zoned out as well, because it barely felt like a minute passed me by before there was a loud knock at the door. Yet another of the waiting staff stuck his head into the room, telling us (thankfully in an accent that’s easier to understand) that he was here to escort us to the dining room. Oh sweet, I love this game. ”Hey, Octy.” Nothing. ”I smashed your cello and used the strings as a fishing line.” Absolute silence. “Then I killed a stallion for his boots and hijacked a train.” In one ear and out the other. ”And to top it all off, I found the hottest mare on board and made sweet sweet love to her in the dining car.” Not a damn word from her. ”Just give us a few minutes,” I said, turning to the stallion in uniform. “She’s a little spaced out right now, I’ll get her back down on terra firma.” All I got in return was a wide-eyed stare, a nod that must have taken weeks of subtlety training to perfect, and then the door clicked quietly shut again. Stupid move? Maybe. But I ain’t ever gonna turn down the opportunity to mess with somepony’s head. If that exchange ended up getting relayed back to Staccato, it could make dinner a little more fun. Yeah, I’d promised not to stir the pot, but what harm could a little fun do? And speaking of fun, I had to bring Octy to her senses before she drew a total mental blank over actually making it to dinner. She was currently doing something to her eyelashes with a small metal… thing that looked like it was specifically designed for torture. As opposed to being there to spruce up your eyelashes, with the feeling of torture just being a happy little accidental side-effect. I lined myself up behind, her, and the moment she moved it away from her eyes (I didn’t want her to actually hurt herself) I placed both my front hooves on her shoulders. “BWAH!” she yelped, nearly leaping forward off of her seat. “Oh Vinyl, you absolute plonker, you know not to startle me when I’m doing my makeup.” She was talking through gritted teeth, but I could see the traces of a smile in the corner of her lips. “A, if I didn’t startle you, you’d be there all night. And B, while you were communing with demons in whatever trance they put you in, our dinner summons arrived.” Her ears folded back as she let out a groan. “Ohh, but I haven’t even begun applying my eyeshadow yet…” “You look fine, don’t sweat it. It’s not like we’re going out anywhere.” “But I…” “Tavi, don’t sweat it. You look great.” “Fine,” she conceded, giving me a look of resignation through the mirror. “But I’ve only curled one set of eyelashes. Let me quickly do the other?” ”Okay, you got thirty seconds, chop chop!” So, about ten minutes later when she was finished, we found ourselves following the stallion of the house staff through the endless corridors. Octy didn’t know this guys name, as apparently he’d been hired after she’d left for college. To be fair to her, none of them were exactly big on conversation. Not even the one’s she did know. The whole time we were out under the gazebo, the most I heard from any of them were ‘yes ma’am’ and ‘would you care for a refill’. I couldn’t help but shoot glances at her in her white gown as we walked. Oh sweet Celestia, give me strength… We were led into a cavernous space that most ponies would mistake for an airship hangar, but judging by the long table in the centre? That would technically classify it as a dining room, at least by definition and intended purpose. But the size of the place… I swear you could have fit our whole house in it. A giant fireplace at one end of the room was lit, sending flickering orange light dancing across the floor and walls. Although most of one wall was covered in floor-to-ceiling windows, which gave us a pretty good view of the monster of a storm raging outside. At the head of the table was… yep, you guessed it. Old cheerful-face himself, Staccato. Allegra sat next to him, wearing a purple satin dress that pretty much exactly matched the colour of both her and Octy’s eyes. And two more place settings were laid out, sat at the opposite side of the table. While it might have been ‘proper’ to let Octy sit next to her dad, something in my gut stirred uncomfortably at the idea. So, being the doting and chivalrous marefriend that I am, I made a big show of pulling out Octy’s chair for her, and tucking it in as she sat down. The chair one space down from Staccato, that is. As I took my own seat, he narrowed his eyes at me slightly, but I just sent a cheerful grin back his way. Nope, he wasn’t gonna get under my pelt that easily. A minute of uneasy silence passed as by as the waiting staff set glasses of water and empty champagne flutes in front of us. One of the ponies started circling the table, pouring bubbly liquid from a bottle that looked super expensive into the empty flutes. But when he reached Octy, she covered the glass with her hoof and shook her head. “Heck of a storm going on out there, huh?” I said, casting out a line of generic small-talk to see if I could land myself a natural segue into more substantial conversation. And thankfully, Allegra bit hook, line and sinker. “Oh good gracious, isn’t it just? We’ve had somewhat of a deficit of rain as of late, but I dare say the weather team might have overdone it here.” “The weather team back in Ponyville does a fine job,” Octavia chimed in. “It’s been years since they last had to produce a large storm to counter a rainfall deficit. They’ve had a big restructure and things have gotten even better since, and some of the management team are even being pegged as future Wonderbolt material.” “Oh the Wonderbolts,” Allegra gasped. “I’ve heard excellent things about them, we’re a bit far out from their stomping grounds over here but we do hear the odd tidbit through the grapevine. Have you been to see them perform?” Octavia nodded. “Yes, several times now. In fact Vinyl took me there on one of our earliest dates.” “And how do they compare to the Red Arrows?” Whatever Octavia said in reply, I missed it. I was busy experiencing mental whiplash as dozens of old memories flooded my brain, core life experiences resurfacing in quick succession one-by-one. Bright sunny days, surrounded by family and cheering crowds as red-uniformed pegasi raced overhead. How had I managed to file these memories away in the dusty corners of my head where I rarely looked? “Oh mare,” I laughed, as Octy finished… whatever she’d said. “The Red Arrows, dude that takes me back. My Dad used to have distant family living in Neighcastle, we’d go visit them a couple of times a year, and we’d always go see the Red Arrows if they were in town.” Octy shot me a surprised look. “You’ve never mentioned that before.” “I haven’t thought about it in years. And I was real young, so the memories are a little fuzzy. But just the words ‘Red Arrows’ bring back so many happy thoughts. Nothing but good vibes and long days out in the sun with the cousins from my Dad’s side of the family.” ”How did you like the aerial displays?” Allegra asked. “Errr…” I fidgeted sheepishly in my seat. “Well, see I don’t really remember much about the shows themselves. I was young last time we went, like six or seven, and… yeah, all the stunts just kinda blurred together. But they were brightly clothed so I could easily spot them in the sky, and doing all this cool stuff I could have watched all day.” Allegra gave what Trottingham society would probably call a ‘polite chuckle’. “Well I suppose it’s not entirely fair to expect a pre-teen to memorise an entire flight show.” ”Well, I can say this much,” I said, as the most important memory hit me like a tonne of bricks. “There was one show, I think it was the last one we did before that side of the family moved to Whinnyapolis. And instead of the rock music they normally played in the background, they tried something different. They played some electronic music, I think some real early era drum and bass? Just… the moment I heard the music, I knew that was what I wanted to do with my life. Make music.” “Is that when you got your cutie mark?” Allegra asked. ”You got your cutie mark trying out a set of turntables in a music shop near your home, as I recall you telling me,” Octavia said. I nodded. “And the only reason I begged Dad to take me was because I’d heard that music at the air show. Apparently I was talking about it the whole train ride home, and they took me there just to shut me up, but once I got my mark they couldn’t not buy me the turntables. Jeez, I can’t believe I forgot all about that.” “Well what a marvellous way to discover oneself,” Allegra gushed. “And a most excellent choice on the part of your parents to take you.” ”Yeah, I definitely owe them for that.” ”Indeed. Please, tell us about them. What do they do for a living?” I cleared my throat. “So, my mom Arpa, she’s kind of… freelance, I guess? She’s generally viewed as an expert in Mexicolt culture, specifically traditional musical instruments. A lot of universities across the country hire her to give lectures and performances. And if there’s any community centres nearby, while she’s there she’ll try and go do free workshops for local residents, just share her love for her heritage, y’know?” “She sounds like a delighful mare,” Allegra said eagerly. “And your father?” “Oh Dad is awesome, he helps so many ponies. He’s one of Manehatten’s most respected…” Huh? Did Staccato just tsk at me?! Just brush it off, Scratch. Octy’s counting on you to keep the peace, stay polite, don’t rise to anything that he does. If he wants a fight, he’s just cast out a net, and you’d be insanely dumb to throw yourself into that net. “You got something you wanna say?” I asked, tilting my head towards him with one eyebrow tactically raised high above the other one. Yep, right into the net. He got me. “Oh no, nothing of any significance,” he replied with a roll of his eyes. “Only, confirmation of what I already expected to be true.” Eerie quiet filled the room. I was only vaguely aware of the rain drumming against the window, and of Octavia and Allegra’s rigid postures. Which, in hindsight, was probably as loud a warning of danger as I could have expected from them at that moment in time. But unfortunately right then, I wasn’t really able to process anything besides Staccato’s words. “And what, tell me, exactly is it you had expected?” I asked, slowly and quietly. For the first time, an actual smile formed on his face. But not a happy smile, no no no, this dude wasn’t going to give me that level of decency. I’ve seen the kind of smile on his face before. This was an ‘I was right the whole time’ kind of smile. In one word? Smug. ”I had expected,” Staccato said, leaning forward and playfully resting his head on his hooves. “That my child would present to me a suitor of ill repute. The famed DJ Pon-3, in my very own home, what an honour indeed! A foul mouthed… ‘homosexual’ of little class and prone to violent tendencies. She is easily provoked, has poor table manners, and would act aggressively towards somepony generous enough to open their doors and shelter her. And finally, she lets slip precisely why she is predisposed to act the way she does. Because in a kennel of pure-breeds, she is a mutt. Her mother hails from a land of savages and in-breds, and her father is highly respected in his field, only in a city of ingrates and peasants so the accomplishment is hardly one to brag about. So I ask myself, is it nature or is it nurture? And the universe seemed to reply to me with great clarity, that it is equal parts one and the other. Oh, I had expected you, Vinyl Scratch. And you have not disappointed me one iota.” In the silence that followed, the rain thrashing against the window seemed to intensify. Honestly, I kinda mentally clocked out. I don’t know for how long. It could have been seconds, it could have been minutes. Fuck, it could have been an hour for all I knew. I can only remember the most basic of sensations. My mouth wide open in a gawp, the vein pulsing on my forehead, the adrenaline racing through my heart as I held back with all my willpower against the overwhelming urge to beat this dude into a fucking pulp until his face was an unrecognisable chunk of bloodied flesh. But if he’d been baiting me before, he’d just played his best card. However, if I stayed in that room for just one minute longer, I would beat him to within an inch of his life. And then keep beating for a few more metres. His smug smile had evolved ever so slightly into a sneer, one that seemed to be saying ‘alrighty then, your move’ to me. So against impossible odds, I came back to myself and decided I could rise above this. At least, for now. “Please excuse me,” I said, trembling as I pushed my chair back and rose to my hooves. “I need to use the bathroom.” In my state of… well, trying to maintain composure, I only got the slightest look at the other two ponies at the table. Allegra was wide-eyed, one hoof covering her mouth as if she was trying to process what was happening. And Octy… oh, poor Octy… her eyes were practically bulging out of her head, her jaw was hanging low, and she had long streak running down her face. Like a single tear had smeared her makeup as it left her eye and slid down her cheek. But, I couldn’t stop. I had to get out. Even when the waiting staff started carrying trays of food through the door, I just politely stepped out of the way and made a quick escape once the doorway was clear. What the fuck had just happened? Like, I knew the dude didn’t like me that much. He’d made it pretty damn clear from the moment I got here. But that was just… brutal. Did I piss this guy off in a previous life or something? I wish I could have been trying to rationalise everything that had just happened as I wandered aimlessly through identical looking corridors, but honestly, my inner monologue was in as much of a stunned silence as I was. Oh yeah, identical looking corridors. Which meant I got lost pretty much immediately. After… actually, I don’t know how long I was walking. But after some time, I had to stop and take some steadying breaths. I’d come here to try and understand her family, her upbringing, why she’d never had the courage to tell me about the fact that she was transgender until I stumbled onto it by chance. And while I was starting to figure out exactly the level of hostility she must have had to deal with when she was growing up, I couldn’t begin to unpack why her dad was throwing so much hostility at me. And the attacks aimed at my parents as well? That dude had never even met them, so who the fuck was he to judge?! Yeah it’s becoming cliché at this point, but again, I don’t know how long I was stood there just focusing on my breathing. I just needed to calm myself down, then I could work out how to get back to that dining room. Once back in there I could apologise for excusing myself while food was being served, and for any hostilities on my part today. I was just nervous. Yeah, nervous. Then I could ask him to explain what caused him to have prejudices for both Mexicolt and Manehatten, and methodically break down why my parents break away from those molds and excel as members of society. Maybe if we talked things out, I could look past the things he’d said about them. Okay, I had a plan. That helped. As my slow breathing began to bring me back down to reality, I became more aware of my surroundings again. The samey-same sections of corridor in the crazy house apparently had one single exception. When I’d stopped to gather my thoughts, I’d rested my hoof against what I’d thought was a section of wall. Now I saw it actually the side of a huge, wooden cabinet. I stepped around it to get a better look. Inside, behind glass doors, were dozens and dozens of photos, sat in frames on the shelves. Now, admittedly out of curiosity, I stepped forward for a closer look. The photos were all of Octy. Young Octy, as she’d grown up. There were so many pictures, and while I recognised some from her album, there were even more that… well, I understood why she hadn’t wanted to keep hold of. Because she was clearly still a colt in them. But as I walked past shelf after shelf of the complete history of her life, I could see that they’d been arranged with love and care regardless of the change that happened when she was seven. Maybe she viewed everything before that as a period to forget, but whoever had arranged these had clearly wanted to commemorate Octy’s journey from downhearted colt to happy, confident mare. So, it was definitely her mom who'd set up this display. There was even an MRI scan framed there. Yeah, seriously. Her mom had printed and framed an ultrasound image of an Octavia who was still in the womb. I couldn’t help but be impressed. Her dad may be a piece of work, but her mom was all kinds of awesome. And that’s when I spotted what was wrong. There, in the scan. Literally, as I went to step away and keep looking at the photos, I saw it. At least, I thought I could see it. It didn’t make any sense to me, but there it was. For a moment, I wondered if it could be somepony else’s scan mixed up in Octy’s pictures. But there, clearly marked, was a timestamp dated three months before Octy was born. So why were there… I yelped in surprise as I heard a well-spoken voice say ‘excuse me please’. Turning around, I saw the stallion from the waiting staff, the one who’d escorted me and Octy to the dining room. He was carrying an empty serving tray. Maybe on his way back to the kitchens? I was stood in the middle of the corridor, right in his way. And for a moment, instinct took over and I stepped aside. I got a ‘thank you, ma’am’ in return. But as he was halfway down the corridor, I called out to him. ”Hey, wait a sec!” He stopped and turned back to me. “Can I help you, ma’am?” ”Yeah, yeah you can. Come here a sec.” Without hesitation, he walked back over to me. As he approached, I gestured to the MRI scan. “This is Allegra’s, yeah?” ”Yes ma’am, I believe so.” ”So why are there two foals?” He raised both his eyebrows. “I… I’m deeply sorry ma’am,” he stuttered. “I assumed Miss Octavia would have informed you? When Lady Allegra was expecting, she was carrying twins. Two colts, Philharmonic and Symphonic. But unfortunately, Master Symphonic passed away before the pregnancy came to term. Allegedly, the doctors said it was a miracle that Master Philharmonic managed to survive.” I felt my heart plummet into my stomach. Allegra had lost a child during pregnancy… Sweet Luna, nothing I’ve ever felt before could even begin to compare to how I felt at that moment. And that was just me being told about it. How it must have felt being there, being her, having a young colt that never even had a chance… just gone. Before even getting to see daylight. And Staccato, losing a son and probably having to support Allegra through it all. Suddenly, I was feeling something for him that up to that point, I never would have expected. I felt sorry for the guy. And Octy… she’d lost her twin brother. Fuck, I didn’t even bother wondering why she’d never mentioned it. I know I’d never want to talk about it, if the pony who was supposed to grow up alongside me had never even lived long enough to get out of the womb. The stallion gave me a look of sympathy. “I’m terribly sorry to be the one to inform you, ma’am. The situation is difficult to wrap one’s head around.” ”Yeah, it is,” I replied. My voice sounded alien to me, almost hollow. ”And to think,” he added. “Losing young Master Philharmonic only a few years later… one can’t begin to imagine the pain they carry with them every day.” Huh? ”What? They… they lost Philharmonic?” The look in his eyes was startling, and for a few moments he just stared at me, his mouth wide open as his jaw bobbed up and down, trying to produce words that never made it out. His ears drooped as he made to walk away, but I grabbed his hoof before he could. ”Ma’am, I…” ”Just tell me what you mean, why did you say they lost Philharmonic?” “Miss Octavia was adopted by the Lord and Lady after Master Philharmonic was killed in an accident.” My entire body felt like it had turned to solid ice. “What accident, what happened?” ”I’m terribly sorry ma’am, I don’t know,” he jabbered as he wrenched his hoof free from my grasp. “The whole incident happened long before I was hired, young Mistress Octavia had already left to attend university when I started here.” “But.. but that’s…” “Ma’am I cannot apologise enough,” he added, backing away from me. “But I must return to my duties.” I was only consciously aware of watching him turn to scurry back down the corridor before I whited out completely. The next thing I knew, Octavia’s face was inches from mine, her eyes wide and full of tears as she was desperately calling out my name. ”Vinyl, please, answer me!” ”Octy,” I gasped. Why did it feel like I’d been suffocating? “What… what’s going… on?” ”Oh thank Celestia, I think you were having some sort of panic attack. I came looking for you a few minutes after you left the dining room, and I found you here. You were hyperventilating, I was calling for you but it was like you couldn’t see or hear me. Oh… oh Vinyl, what happened?” “I… I… uhh…” I stuttered. My mind fumbled for an explanation. And then my eyes fixed on the framed ultrasound picture in the cabinet behind her. “Octy, were you adopted?” Her face… oh mare, when I’d started coming back to her, her expression had shifted to one of relief. But asking that question, the shift from relief to absolute horror was instantaneous. She let go of my shoulders, which I hadn’t even noticed she’d been holding onto, and took a step back. In her panic, she bumped up against the glass door of the cabinet behind her. ”Wh… why would you ask that?” she asked, her voice trembling. I recounted everything that the stallion had said to me, and watched her carefully as I did so. The look on her face, the subtle shaking of her head, her eyes looking at pretty much anything but me… I’d say we were onto a subject she’d been desperate for me not to find out about. And once I’d finished explaining, I just had one question for her. ”Is it true?” “Vinyl…” she whispered, biting her lip as her eyes locked onto a spot on the floor between my front hooves. ”Octy,” I sobbed, my voice breaking. “I need to know what’s happening here. Please, I’m sorry if it hurts to talk about, but can you just give me some damn decency and not lie to me?!” Her eyes locked with mine. Her tears were flowing freely now, and I could feel them rushing down my own face too. I hated seeing her like this, her lips trembling and her eyebrows creased. But I couldn’t stand it any more to have her keep me in the dark. When she spoke, her voice was strained, like she was carefully examining every word before she said it, as if one wrong step would set off an unstoppable tsunami of tears. ”Yes, I did lose my twin brother before we were even born. But no, I am not adopted. The adoption story is a cover-up that Father came up with, rather than admit his child was transgender. Philharmonic Melody was run over and killed by a carriage while out on a family excursion, and in their grief, they visited a local orphanage where they found a little filly who resembled their lost child almost exactly. That was the official version of events that Father told everypony. Mother was strongly against it, and would have preferred we stuck to the true story. But Father deemed it better to have ponies think his surviving son had been stricken down by cruel fate, than admit I was besmirching the family name by transitioning from male to female.” My mind reeled as she finished talking. The words she’d said… I understood the words themselves, but when combined, the finished sentences just didn’t make sense to me. Her dad… had told the world his child had died, rather than openly admit that she had been born in the wrong body. Put on a pretence of adopting a young filly who miraculously resembled his lost son, instead of just being honest and celebrating Octavia’s commitment to transitioning and becoming her true self. He'd made her live her life with the pretence that she hadn't been born to them, because he didn't want ponies to think his child was transgender. I am a very tolerant mare. But it was at this point that my mind snapped.