//------------------------------// // Prologue // Story: Harmony Redux // by errant //------------------------------// “How in Celestia’s name did this happen?” Octavia asked, burying her face into her hooves as she sat on the cold stone floor of Ponyville’s small jail. Her mane, normally well-kept and elegant, was unkempt and erratic as it fell forward to conceal her expression from her companions. “Well, first Vinyl dared you to do a dozen shots with her,” said one of the cramped cell’s other occupants, a mare and unicorn with a coat of green, tilting her head in thought as she reached back through the dim haze of alcohol-impaired memories. “That was a rhetorical question, Lyra,” Octavia protested as she feebly massaged her temples. “And then you each started to down as many hard ciders as you could after Vinyl said she was the better drinker,” continued the third mare in the cramped space, a beige earth pony with a tail and mane of curled blue and pink streaks that bounced with a jaunty spring as she moved her head. “You were both a good sixteen glasses in when you decided to start making out at the bar. You two actually started to get pretty heavy before the Guards showed up and arrested us for public intoxication and indecency. But I guess you technically won, since Vinyl is out cold,” she said, shrugging philosophically. Turning, Lyra gently poked the white-and-blue mass that vaguely resembled a pony lying on the floor and which comprised the fourth and final mare present. It snorted and began snoring in response to the prodding. “Yup, she’s still out. Bon-Bon’s right, Octy; you are officially a better drinker than Vinyl. Though don’t expect her to take it gracefully.” Octavia stared, mouth agape. “How are you two so blasé about this? We are in prison on the day before Vinyl and I’s wedding!” she demanded. “This is a catastrophe,” she moaned as she cradled her head in her forehooves. “Technically, this is jail. Prison is a lot more serious. And make that the day of your wedding,” Lyra pointed out as she gestured towards the barred window, through which the first tentative rays of dawn were leaking. “And we’re so blasé ‘cause, hey, it ain’t our once-in-a-lifetime special day getting royally bucked up.” “Lyra Heartstrings!” Bon-Bon exclaimed with a scowl directed towards the source of her ire. “I know you’re just trying to lighten the mood with sarcasm, but do us all a favor and don’t. Think of poor Octavia before you go running your mouth at a time like this.” “You don’t normally mind my mouth—“ “Don’t even start with that,” Bon-Bon interrupted, rolling her eyes. Lyra sighed, her sides heaving before she laid a gentle forehoof on Octavia’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Octy. I’m sure everything’ll be ok.” “Ok? Ok! How in the name of lunacy will any of this be ‘ok’?” Octavia demanded. Lyra shrugged. “Well, at least it can’t get any worse.”