The sound of music filled the halls of the Philharmonica Estate.
Octavia strained to hold the cello upright. She had been practicing for quite some time already, but she still had not mastered the piece. It was the last section, a series of complicated trills more commonly found on the lighter violin than the large and weighty cello. The trills should have sounded bright and tinkling, like the sounds of a fast mountain stream bubbling through rocks. Instead they ran together in one tangled mess. The image evoked was not a clean stream, but a mud-clogged canal.
The cellist gritted her teeth and prepared to try again. She had been working on this one piece, the first of Paganeighni's Cello Sonatas, for over two weeks now. She had to master this piece to have any hope of the others -- they didn't get any easier, after all. But she just couldn't make it work.
She briefly shook the leg that she used to hold her bow. It was sore and tired, the fine effort of making extremely precise movements for hours taking their toll. She couldn't help but glance at the clock and notice that it was almost dinnertime. Nopony would find fault in her if she stopped, rested, and maybe even took the rest of the evening off. She could eat, or play a game in the lounge, help Viola and Melody study for their exams, or do anything else she wanted. She was the third child, after all, neither heir nor backup, and so she was free to indulge herself in diversion if she so chose.
But Octavia shook her head. What she wanted was to finally master this piece, and prove -- to herself, if nopony else -- that she had what it took to be a musician. She would not stop just because it became difficult. She would get it done, whatever it took.
And so she brought her bow up and began to play. And... at last... she produced just the sounds she wanted to hear.
The trills were light and airy, and few ponies would have thought the cello capable of such sound. She moved her bow over the strings rapidly enough to achieve the trilling effect, yet with such a light touch that the ornamentation never overwhelmed the main theme. Each trill moved into the next, strictly controlled by the structure of the melody, and no two mixed prematurely. They sounded not like one stream, but several, an entire mountaintop's worth bubbling and tinkling in harmony.
When Octavia finished she collapsed on her chair and almost dropped her cello. Sweat dripped down off her face. Her legs, her barrel, and even her hooves ached. But she didn't care. She had done it. She had mastered, at long last, the Paganeighni Cello Sonata (Number 1).
Then the door opened, and Princess Mi Amore Cadenza walked in.
Octavia was frozen for several moments before she remembered an earlier conversation -- her parents had told her they would be meeting with the princess today to discuss some tax issue -- and her ettiquette lessons kicked in. She threw herself into a bow, bonking her head on the ground in her haste to genuflect. "Princess!"
"You may rise," said Cadenza, her voice gentle and warm. "I apologize for my intrusion, but when I heard your music downstairs, I had to see the artist. You play wonderfully for a filly of your age, Octavia."
The musician flushed with pride. "Thank you!"
"We're so glad you like her music!" said Octavia's mother, the Duchess of Chenneigh, as she entered behind the princess. "She works so hard on it. Every day she practices."
"Yes," agreed the princess. "I can hear that clearly in her art." Turning back to Octavia, she added, "You sound like you truly love music."
"Yes, your highness," said Octavia.
Cadance smiled slightly. "Hmm... might I ask, Octavia, what is it you want to do?"
Octavia blinked. "Do?"
"As your profession, I mean. Do you wish to play the cello as your career?"
Octavia wasn't able to answer for a few moments, but she couldn't stop a smile from forming on her face as she fantasized about what a lovely life that would be. "More than anything," she said.
Cadance looked back to the Duchess. "Her ability is extraordinary. What kind of training does she have?"
"Tutors three days a week. She went to Fillydelphia last summer to study at a music camp as well."
Cadance nodded as she approached the young cellist turned to Octavia. "I might be able to offer some assistance as well."
Octavia's stomach felt like it was turning over. She had heard stories of ponies, very lucky ponies, who were taken in by the princess and taught the finest of the musical arts, but she had never dreamed that she would be chosen. Surely--
"Would you like to be my student, Octavia?"
"Yes!" she yelled, before remembering herself. Blushing fiercely, she said, "I mean... yes. Thank you."
Cadance laughed. "Wonderful. I am pleased..."
Most of the rest of those weeks were a blur. Octavia had practiced, said goodbye to her music teachers and fellow students, been hugged approximately one thousand times by her tearful sisters, and so forth. Of all the goodbyes, there was only one moment that stuck out.
Cadance had visited Chenneigh to pick her up and take her to Canterlot -- this was a tradition she performed with all of her students, dating back thousands of years. As Octavia was saying her final goodbyes, her mother gave her one last hug, and her father one last bit of advice. "This is a big responsibility," he said. "Do your best... become the virtuoso we all know you can be."
Octavia smiled. "I will," she vowed. "And I won't let you down." She turned from her parents to Princess Cadance. "I will become a musician you can be proud of -- I promise."
Cadance nodded. "I know you will," she said.
***
Proud of...
"No!"
Armor paused. "Are you alright?" he asked Octavia.
The cellist shook her head. "I am fine... my apologies." But her thoughts were scattered. She heard the Princess castigating her for her failures that day. And she heard herself, years ago, vowing that she would make the princess proud of her.
I have to fix this! I can't let her keep hating me, not now, with everything crumbling! She matters so much to me, she's taught me so much... I can't let her die hating me! I have to show her now, do something to prove to her I'm a good pony...
"If there's nothing else, Octavia, we need to get going," said Captain Armor. "Come on, privates. Saddle up in the chariots. I want us to catch up with them by the time they reach the next city." And they began to gallop off.
"Wait!" yelled Octavia, hurrying after them. "Wait, I -- take me with you!"
"What?" asked Armor, his voice confused.
"I can help! I am strong and -- and resilient. I can follow orders. I can help carry supplies or do anything else you need, just please, take me with you!" On some level, Octavia knew how stupid this was, but she did not care. The only thing she could think of was Cadance dying, her last thoughts about how her student was a failure.
"You're kidding, right? We're headed into a war zone."
"I do not care about that! I would go into any danger if it meant I could see the princess again!"
The Guards all looked at each other as they ran. Armor hesitated for a moment, and then turned to his soldiers. "Go on. I'll catch up in five. I want everything ready to go by the time I arrive, got it?"
"SIR YES SIR!" they said, and galloped on their way.
Armor stopped and turned to Octavia. "Run that by me again?"
"I want to help you. I do not care about the danger. But I have to be with my teacher!" Octavia paused to collect herself. "I've served her faithfully for years. Please allow me this."
Armor stepped close to Octavia, looking down. "Octavia?"
He's going to say yes! "Yes?" the cellist asked.
Armor snapped his neck up and glared at her, teeth bared. "It," he hissed, "is NOT ALL ABOUT YOU!"
Octavia stumbled backwards in shock and fell on her flank with a thump. "What?" she managed, completely stupified.
"We're going off to try to save as many lives as we can from two dueling deranged demigods!" yelled Armor. "We might die! The Princess might die! And you want us to spare resources and ponies we don't have to guard you, just so you can try to talk to the Princess and distract her from protecting the nation? What's wrong with you!"
Octavia shook her head. "It is not like that at all! I--"
"Oh, forget it." Armor turned. "I should have expected this from you by now, Philharmonica. Go away."
Octavia managed to get back to her hooves. Dimly, a plan formulated in her mind -- Armor seemed to think, based on his last sentence, that she was selfish or bad in some way; she was not; if she could show him this, he might let her come with him after all. "Expected what from me? Loyally serving the princess? I--"
"No. Complete and utter selfishness, even at the end of the world." Armor turned to watch Octavia over his shoulder. "You shouldn't even be her student anymore. She's been coming up with ridiculous rationalizations to keep you around for months now. I warned her you'd botch this, but she wanted to give you one last chance."
"That is absurd!" protested Octavia. "She has not told me my musical skill is unsatisfactory! On the contrary -- my ability--"
"Remains locked in your rooms, along with you, most of the day." Armor scowled. "What do you think the Princess was teaching you for, Philharmonica? Her own amusement? Your own gratification? She wants her students to go forth and share their talents and skills with the world. I've seen her train up a lot of ponies. She's happy when they master a difficult piece, but she's ecstatic when they move a crowd to tears. Or instill a love of music in a foal who never before knew what music could sound like. When have you ever done that?"
"I--"
"Never! You sit in your room and practice, and nopony hears a note of it! You don't play for the other students, nevermind Canterlot at large. Maybe you're the greatest musician in the country, but her other students -- the ones you think are inferior, the ones who 'waste time' on their hobbies -- are out every weekend, in clubs and little halls and parks, making ponies happy with song. They've done ten times more with music than you ever will."
"I have my reasons!" Octavia tried to think of an argument. "I cannot play in public yet, I am not good enough--"
"Oh? I thought you said your ability was remarkable." Armor snorted. "You're pathetic. Go home, Octavia. Get yourself a room, lock the door, practice all you want -- and never talk to another pony again. Trust me, we'll all be a lot better off."
He began to gallop away again, and Octavia was paralyzed for several moments in shock. Finally, she shook herself out of it and began to race after him. "Then it is all the more important I go with you! If I have let her down, I have to apologize, accept her rebuke--"
"Too late!" Armor yelled back. "You've had years to figure it out, and now that the world's ending you realize at last that she means something to you? There's more important things going on, Philharmonica, than your own personal redemption." He shook his head. "Yeah, Octavia, the world might end. The Princess might die, and she'll never have known you as anything other than the most selfish of her students, who would rather bury herself in her own work than use it to brighten another pony's day. You know what? That's on you--"
"But--!" Octavia interjected.
Armor's horn glowed, and a pinkish dome surrounded Octavia. She cried out as she ran into it and stumbled backwards with a heavy thump. "--And I am not putting my Guards at risk to watch you so you can make yourself feel better! You've made your bed, now lie in it!" And he was gone, running off into the night
"No! Please!" cried Octavia, hammering at the dome with her hooves. But, though she was strong and sturdily built, she couldn't make so much as a dent in it. It wasn't until she saw the fleet of chariots rising into the sky and vanishing after the alicorns that the dome vanished, and Octavia knew by then it was too late. The Princess was gone, and she had no way to get to her.
"No," she whispered, forcing herself to her hooves. "No. It isn't true. I won't let it be true. Not now, not with everything ruined. He's wrong, I'll prove it..."
With a start, she remembered Pageturner.
"Of course! She's by herself too, all alone in a strange town, and with the tyrants wrecking everything, she must be terrified out of her mind." Octavia nodded. She would go find Pageturner, immediately, and make sure she was safe. The two of them could think of something to do next, finding a train or some other mode of transport to pursue the Princess. They could get out of Ponyville, catch up with Cadance, and Octavia could then do whatever was in her power to help her Princess save the day. Besides, Pageturner had always insisted that she and Octavia were friends. Octavia had never really thought about that too much, but in these circumstances, she found herself desperately yearning for somepony that she could call a friend. Now she could show Pageturner that all that pony's efforts to reach the cellist had not been in vain.
"Right." Octavia looked around and oriented herself with respect to town hall. "She's probably crouched under the covers, scared out of her mind. I will find her... comfort her." She nodded to herself. "Everything is going to be alright."
***
Pageturner was not, as it turned out, in city hall. In fact, all her belongings had hastily been packed up and removed in what looked like a hurry. That indicated to Octavia that she was trying to flee the town, so she dashed towards the train station as quickly as she could.
To her surprise, a train was running. The cellist wondered if the engineers and conductors had been in town and now wanted to return to somewhere where their families lived. A large number of ponies were swarming the platform and packing onto the train; Octavia guessed that most of them were the staff, security, and out-of-town guests for the Vernal Equinox. There were all sorts of ponies, from finely dressed mares and stallions to young foals that were being carted along by frantic parents. There were ponies in construction outfits, train engineers, a janitor crew...
And an orange-coated, pink-maned pony that Octavia knew quite well.
"PAGETURNER!" the cellist screamed, dropping off the stand and fighting her way through the crowd to reach her friend. "PAGETURNER! WAIT!"
The earth pony turned in surprise. "Octavia? What is it?"
"Where are you going?" Octavia asked. "I have been looking all over -- never mind." She grabbed Pageturner and began trying to pull her out of the crowd. "I'm so glad I found you!"
"You are?"
"Yes!" Octavia took her hooves gingerly. "The Princess and her Guards are pursuing the alicorns. They aim to stop them from hurting civilians. And I--"
"Octavia, I really don't care right now." Pageturner jerked her head at the train. "This is the last train. I'm getting back to Canterlot, okay? If the world's ending, I want to be with my friends."
"But--" Octavia blinked. "Pageturner, wait. We can pursue Cadance..." She trailed off, realizing how slapdash her plan had to sound. "Or... we can stay here while we figure out our next move."
"Here? Octavia, this place just got attacked--"
"I'll protect you," insisted Octavia. "You know how strong I am. And I..." She paused. "I cannot go home, not yet. You are my friend, I need you to--"
"Friend?" Pageturner blinked. "Um, Octavia? No. No, I'm not."
Now it was Octavia's turn to stare.
"I've been trying to get you to open up for two years! I invited you to parties, found friends I thought you might like... I even put together that hot air balloon trip with the other students a few months back... but you told me you didn't care every single time. You've been saying for years that we aren't friends, that you don't need friends, all you need is music." Pageturner gestured a hoof at the sky. "Well, fine. You've got what you want. I won't bother you anymore, okay? Never again."
"That is not what I want!"
"What, because the world's ending and you wish you had somepony to be with? Tough." Pageturner turned her back on the cellist. "I tried for years, Octavia. I stayed up nights trying to figure out how to get through to you. I wanted you to have friends. But none of that mattered to you. Even today, when pony after pony was telling me how bad you made them feel, I covered for you. I still believed if you just knew the harm you were doing, you would apologize. But i was wrong. You didn't care about me, you didn't care about any of the ponies in town whose day you ruined in order to set up a concert for yourself, and you don't care now. You're just scared."
Octavia felt as if somepony had hit her in the chest with a sledgehammer. "That is not true," she whispered. "Pageturner, please believe me."
"It doesn't matter. Even if you really want to be friends, it's too late." Pageturner began to move back towards the train. "I'm going home, Octavia. To my real friends. And maybe they aren't great musicians, but they’re happy when I'm happy, and they comfort me when I'm sad, and I'll be a little less afraid of the end of the world if I'm waiting with them. Stay here if you want. I'm leaving."
Octavia reached out a hoof as she began to move onto the train -- now flashing lights and blowing its horn, apparently getting ready to depart. "Wait!"
"You wait. Wait with your cello, Octavia," said Pageturner. "Isn't that the only friend you need?"
Octavia didn't know what to say.
***
Later, the train had left, and Octavia was sitting numbly on the empty platform with tears running down her face. She knew that she should recover her cello from the ruined celebration area. Then she should get inside, and maybe even start looking for a way to reach the princess. But she couldn't make herself move. Nothing mattered to her anymore.
It can't be true! I haven't... gone my whole life without touching anypony, without making anypony better for meeting me. All I wanted was to make good music, is that so wrong? I didn't mean to hurt anypony...
But there was nopony to apologize to. The students, Cadance, Pageturner, all were miles away. Even the Ponyville ponies were all hiding indoors with their families; they likely wouldn't open the door to her, much less listen to her apology.
And so Octavia did nothing but sit on the empty platform and sob.
Maybe it was all meaningless. Maybe I really should just go home in disgrace... seal myself away somewhere. Never hurt anypony ever again, and wait for the end of a world I thought was beneath me.
The cellist heard hoofsteps behind her, but she didn't turn to see who it was. It had to be a Ponyville resident at this point, and they all had reason to hate her -- foal, elder, and everypony in between. She didn't want to deal with it, and she figured the other pony wouldn't want to deal with her either. He or she would walk by, maybe mutter a curse, and then move on.
But instead the hoofsteps drew closer, and Octavia suddenly felt something soft and warm being draped over her body. She realized suddenly how chilly it had gotten and wrapped the cloak around her. "Thank you..."
She glanced up and stared. It was Lyra, the green mare that was in love with the confectioner. "Um."
Lyra smiled, and there was not even a trace of her earlier anger in her face. She sat down next to Octavia and slipped a hoof over her shoulder.
"Why?" whispered the cellist.
Lyra hugged her a little tighter, and it was a few moments before she spoke:
"You look like you could use a friend."