Night had fallen on Canterlot. The streets were lit by lamplight and emptied of the usual crowd of ponies trying to trot past one another. The constant murmur of voices, the sound of hooves on pavement, the occasional random laughter, everything that made up a Canterlotian’s life during the day, had fallen silent.
A door slammed open.
“Come on, Tavi! Don’t be angry!” A voice, slightly scratchy, shaking with the remnants of a gut-wrenching, tear-inducing laugh, followed the door’s slam.
A grey mare, an instrument’s case slung across her back, trotted out onto the street, hardly sparing a glance towards her roommate. Her pink treble clef cutie mark shone in an otherwise murky night.
“Taaaavi,” whined the first voice, “please don’t be mad? It was a joke! Jokes are funny!” A white unicorn, purple glasses balanced on her face despite the late hour, trotted out after her roommate. “‘Ha Ha’, Tavi, not ‘Grrrrr, let’s ignore Vinyl.’”
Tavi kept walking.
“Alright, fine, you’re angry,” said Vinyl. The laughter in her voice had thinned considerably. “I’m sorry. Is that okay now? Can we go back and forget about the hot sauce?”
The other mare walked resolutely, the growing flush of pink in her face scarcely noticeable in the night.
“Okay, maybe not the hot sauce. The peanut butter?”
No response.
“The pillow?”
Silence. Tavi’s movements became slightly more measured.
“Was it the alligator? I borrowed him from a friend! He’s harmless!”
Tavi threw a cold, sharp glance at her roommate.
Vinyl smiled awkwardly. “Come back, Tavi? … Please?”
The grey mare let out a sigh. “Just say Octavia, for once. I hate that nickname.”
“I think it’s cute,” replied the other hesitantly.
Another glare.
“Right… sorry.”
Octavia sighed again. “It’s fine.” A few steps passed in silence. “Go back home, Vinyl. I’ll be back before supper.”
“You sure, Tavi?”
The grey mare closed her eyes, calming herself just enough to allow the nickname to pass unchallenged. “Quite sure.”
“... Alright,” said Vinyl silently. “See you in a bit.”
Octavia nodded, walking onwards as Vinyl slowly turned around. The unicorn’s hoofsteps quickly faded out of hearing. Octavia let out a steady breath and kicked savagely at a loose pebble.
Damn Vinyl. Damn Canterlot Philharmonic. Damn stress. Damn it all. She loosed another kick at the pebble and missed it completely. Damn pebble.
The lamps and pavement gave way to trees and dirt. Canterlot Park. One of the last refuges for minds troubled by the city. It was massive, dirt trails wandering through a veritable forest, paved walkways that stretched in the cardinal directions and, in the center of it all, a fountain in the form of Princess Celestia and Princess Luna.
But Octavia didn’t follow a path. She wandered around familiar trees, brushing against bark, pawing at the grass. The air was brisk, just cold enough to cool Octavia’s head. Her mind felt clearer, still slightly groggy, but nowhere near the earlier pressure.
Hooves beat against the grass. The trees gave way to a clearing, roughly circular in shape. It was hardly even a clearing really. Just a space in between trees, one big enough to hold two or three ponies comfortably, not that Octavia needed all of that room.
The grey mare shrugged off her instrument, with a sigh, quickly unzipping it, taking the bow in her mouth as she reared onto her hind hooves and balanced herself against her cello. Octavia Philharmonica was, at the risk of sounding haughty, rather famous in Canterlot. She was the de facto leader of the Canterlot Philharmonic and the lead cellist. She had left the Canterlot Conservatory at the top of her class and, every so often, would serve as a guest lecturer at her alma mater. All by the age of 24! What more could a pony ask for?
Octavia touched her bow to the strings, coaxing out the first waxing note of the piece. The Swan of Tuonela, it was called. The piece that had first gotten her into the Conservatory. It was a haunting tune, almost otherworldly in its simple melody. Octavia’s hooves danced across her cello, breathing life into a composition written by a long-dead composer.
The rest of the cloudiness slowly faded away. ItThe process would have been obvious to anypony watching, really; a slow loosening of the muscles in Octavia’s foreleg, the way the cellist began to sway with the music, the slightly glazed look that came into her eyes, but it was almost imperceptible to Octavia Philharmonica. She never even heard the hoofsteps as somepony approached the small clearing, nor did she hear that pony lay on the ground, caught in rapt attention by the cellist’s playing.
Octavia was lost in her music.
***
Luna flew over Canterlot, watching the silent streets with keen eyes. A few ponies hurried here and there, heading home, or finishing up some last minute business, never noticing that the Princess of the Night herself was right over their heads.
Luna let out a sigh. One thousand years had changed many things. And yet, a few aspects went unchanged.
How strange it all is, mused the Princess. Cities have grown giant, buildings soar to the sky, the language itself hath changed. And ponies still fear the dark.
Luna gave another brief glance over Canterlot. Nothing. For the best, in all likeliness. It does make our job easier when no disdainful soul walks the streets… or when no single soul walks the street. She set herself down, landing in the middle of Canterlot Park, right before the statue of herself and her sister. It was one of the few places where the stars were visible. Or, at least, what passed for visible in those days.
The Princess of the Night stared up into the sky. Thousands of points of light stared back. There had once been millions. “The stars shine beautifully tonight,” whispered Luna through a hitch in her throat. She coughed slightly, trying to dislodge whatever was confining her voice.
We must speak to Celestia of a way to lower the light from Canterlot’s lamps. Ponies once found their way through the stars; what are they to do when the stars disappear from sight? Luna let out an exasperated breath. Listen to us, speaking to ourselves. If ‘Tia were to hear of this, there would be no end to her mocking words.
She kicked at a loose pebble, watching it bounce away and clatter into the central fountain. Princess Luna stared up at the two marble alicorns. They seemed so solid, so easily rooted to the spot where they were placed. The Canterlotians had commissioned that fountain when Luna had first returned to Equestria some… by all the stars, Luna wasn’t even sure how much time had passed.
“You may mock us, ‘Tia.” Luna’s voice was as silent as her night. “You may call us senile for conversing with ourselves. But what else have We to do? I, of all ponies, feel lost in the night.”
A thin reed of music floated over the trees. Luna’s ears perked up and she turned towards the sound.
She’s here.
The Princess quietly trotted towards the sound, trying desperately not to be heard.
Octavia Philharmonica stood where she always stood, precariously balancing herself against her cello, slightly swaying to the rhythm of her playing. She had her eyes closed. Luna took her accustomed seat, nestling a distance away from the clearing, behind a tree that would obscure her from sight if Octavia snapped out of her trance.
Luna closed her eyes, listening to the music with rapt attention. Of all the things she had seen in Canterlot, music was the most familiar. Of course, music had come a long way in a millenium, but at the same time Luna could still feel that there was something about the way notes fell, the way Octavia Philharmonica in particular played, that struck her as… familiar. The song stirred a certain nostalgia within the Princess of the Night, even though she had never heard it before, even though the composer, now long dead, hadn’t even been born in her time, even though cellos themselves hadn’t existed one thousand years ago.
Music doesn’t destroy the past, doesn’t replace it with buildings and machines. Music builds upon the past.
Princess Luna wasn’t quite sure how long she sat there. Octavia had long since finished The Swan of Tuonela and two compositions besides that. There was a muffled zip coming from the clearing. Luna sighed quietly, forcing herself to her hooves.
‘Tis time to go, she thought to herself. We have ignored our duties for long enough. Not that there is much for us to do. She stretched out her wings, cramped as they were.
A sudden sound resounded from the clearing. Feathers smacked against bark. Luna let out a startled yelp. The zipping sound stopped.
***
Octavia looked up from her cello case. Her bow had been securely tucked away, her cello snugly placed in its case. She felt infinitely more clear-minded. And a bit cold. Octavia sneezed lightly, taking her hooves away from the zipper to cover her mouth.
Something rustled in the trees, followed by a brief cry.
Octavia started, her gaze immediately snapping towards the disturbance. If Vinyl’s horror movies were anything to go by, this was not a good thing. But it had sounded like a mare. Proper manners dictated that she should see whether this mare needed help.
“Is somepony over there?” called Octavia, trying desperately to keep her voice from shaking.
No response.
“I’m going to assume that you don’t need any help, then.”
No response.
“Right. Well, I’m going to walk away now. I feel that I should mention that I am well-armed with a cello. It hurts. You can ask my roommate if you’d like a second opinion on the matter.” Octavia slung her instrument across her back, feeling it settle into its accustomed position. She turned around, threading her way through the trees and beginning her march back home.
A few hoofsteps sounded through the clearing. Octavia turned around with a slight smile. Then her jaw dropped.
“We greet thee, Octavia Philharmonica,” said Luna in her regal tone.
Octavia blinked. Then blinked again. Just for a bit of variety, she worked her jaw up and down in an attempt to stop blinking and actually say something. Then she blinked.
“We hope that thou wilt forgive us for interrupting,” said Luna hesitantly, raising her eyebrows slightly at Octavia’s response.
The cellist found her voice. “O-of course Princess!” She swept into a bow. “I’m honored.”
Luna smiled. “The honor stems from talent. And thou art most talented, Miss Philharmonica.”
Octavia nodded, the slightest pink tinge growing on her cheeks. Part of it was from the fact that a Princess had just complimented her playing. Most of it was from the fact that the conversation had slipped into that terrible twilight that comes just before an awkward silence.
Octavia pawed at the grass slightly, glancing around the clearing. She was making an effort to keep from looking awkward, but was failing rather spectacularly. It certainly didn’t help that an alicorn was staring right at her.
“We art glad, Miss Philharmonica.” Luna smiled.
“P-pardon, Princess?”
“Thou art the first pony We have seen this night. We are glad that one of our subjects is out and about.” She looked up. “Even if the stars are not as bright as they once were.”
Octavia followed her gaze upwards. The stars shone down, bright holes in an otherwise perfectly black canvas. She had heard ponies talking about the way Canterlot’s lights had dimmed the stars but they looked bright enough at the moment.
Luna took a breath and closed her eyes. Her horn glowed a deep blue. The light around the mares seemed to dim, forming a perfect circle of shadow.
Octavia’s breath caught in her throat. She glanced up again. Millions of stars shone in a single circle, directly above her head. The rest of the sky hadn’t changed, but it seemed utterly dank when compared to the newly-revealed river of lights.
The Princess fixed her eyes on the sky, then turned to study the cellist.
“It’s beautiful,” gasped Octavia.
Luna’s smile widened. Her spell faded, and light flooded back into the clearing. “Thank you, Miss Philharmonica. We put much effort into our night.”
“J-just Octavia is fine, Princess.”
“Is it?” Luna looked slightly surprised as she turned towards the cellist. “Then thou may refer to us as Luna.”
“I can’t do that!” Octavia put a hoof to her chest, dreading the thought. “That’s borderline disrespectful!”
Luna straightened slightly, looking down at Octavia.“‘Tis far more of a disrespect to reject your Princess.”
“I-I’m sorry Prin-- Luna. I’m honored.” Octavia bowed again.
The alicorn furrowed her brow. “Thou was aware that We were ‘joking,’ as it were? We hath no qualms if thou prefers to call us by our title. Though We would much prefer ‘Luna.’”
Octavia smiled uneasily. “Of course. Luna.”
Luna smiled. “Thank you, Octavia.” A pause. Luna shifted around, a hint of how uncomfortable she was breaking through to the surface. “May I inquire as to the music thou were playing when We first arrived?”
“Which song?” asked Octavia. She shifted her case slightly, feeling the cello wigh heavily on her back.
“The first. Though all were wonderful,” she added hurriedly.
“The Swan of Tuonela?” asked Octavia.
Luna shrugged. “We are not aware of the title. It is why We ask thou.”
“Right,” said Octavia sheepishly. “Of course. Well, It’s a tone poem from about a century ago.”
“Tone poem?”
“A piece of music meant to convey an image, often coming from some poem or story,” replied Octavia automatically.
Luna nodded her understanding.
Octavia gazed upwards, gathering her thoughts. “It was written for cello, though it’s found its way into the Equish horn repertoire as well.”
“An Equish horn,” repeated Luna.
Octavia nodded.
“And it was based on a story?” asked the Princess. “How familiar are thou with the tale?”
“It was… about an earth pony, from back before Equestria was established.” Octavia furrowed her brow, scrunching her muzzle slightly as she thought back.
Luna stifled a giggle.
“The pony, I can’t quite remember his name,” continued Octavia, “traveled into Tartarus, trying to accomplish a task in order to be worthy of his wife. He was told to kill the swan, but was torn to shreds as he arrived at the river.”
“What?!” Luna jumped into the air, making Octavia flinch.
“Come Octavia Philharmonica, there is not much time! We must depart to save this pony!” Luna turned, spreading her wings widely.
“Princess.”
“Luna!” insisted Luna. “And now is not the time! We must depart, Octavia, quickly!”
Octavia reached out a hesitant hoof. “Luna.”
“What is it, Octavia?”
“It’s a story. A myth from hundreds of years ago.”
Luna froze. She straightened slowly, folding her wings back into place. “Of course. We were completely aware of this. ‘Twas merely a jest. Ha ha.”
Octavia smiled in spite of herself. “I’m sure it was.”
A slow blush spread over Luna’s face. She coughed into a hoof. “And the other songs? Will you tell us about them as well?”
***
“Tavi, where the hell have you been?! I’ve been worried sick!”
“You were asleep when I came in.”
“That’s not the point!” Vinyl disentangled herself from her chair, wiping a bit of drool from her face. “Do you have any idea what time it is young lady?”
“About two hours earlier than you normally get home.” Octavia smiled lightly, walking across the living room and entering her bedroom. She leaned her cello against the wall.
“And since when do you compare yourself to me?”
Octavia rolled her eyes. “Honestly Vinyl, there’s no need to worry yourself. It’s late. I’ll be heading to sleep soon.”
“Dammit Tavi,” growled Vinyl. “That’s not gonna happen. I have to worry about you. We live together!"
“That’s very sweet of you, Vinyl.” Octavia smiled, then gestured towards the door. “Will you please get out of my room so I can sleep?”
“Fine, fine!” Vinyl turned to leave, but paused at the doorway. “Hey Tavi, you’re not still angry about earlier... are you?”
“No Vinyl. That’s in the past now.”
Vinyl breathed a sigh of relief. “G’night Tavi. Sleep tight.”
“Good night, Vinyl.”
The door shut softly.
***
“Good morning, Sister!”
Celestia glanced upwards, smiling serenely as Luna glided onto their tower’s platform. “Good morning, Sister. How was last night?”
“Nothing to report.” Luna smiled brightly, humming slightly as she made her way indoors.
“You’re in a good mood.”
Luna froze, throwing a sharp look towards her sister. “What makes thou say that?”
Celestia’s smile never faltered. “Your entire demeanor has changed, Sister. You’re humming with joy. Literally.”
The humming stopped. “I suppose so. though I have no idea why.”
“Oh, don’t you?” There was a twinkle in the elder alicorn’s eyes.
“‘Tia, please do not subject us to that look.”
“What look?”
“That look. The very same that now touches thine eyes. The same that colored thine face right before the guards discovered their armor had been colored pink.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Luna gave her a doubtful look.
“Luna, what song was that? It sounds quite familiar.”
“I just learned it,” replied the other Princess hesitantly. “The Swan of Tuonela, it is called.”
“It’s a very nice song. And rather familiar.” Celestia touched a hoof to her chin, as if in thought. “Now, where had I heard it? I believe that it was at Canterlot Conservatory, some years ago. Yes, I remember now. It was the audition piece of a grey mare. A cellist!” She turned towards Luna with a sly smile. “Do you remember her name, dear Sister?”
Luna shook her head fiercely, the barest hint of pink creeping into her cheeks. “I must have been preoccupied. And ‘twas so long ago.”
“Yes, indeed. I just assumed that you remembered, given how you acted at last year’s Grand Galloping Gala. You kept glancing over at her. Though I suppose that you were just trying to recall her name. You were certainly considering her cutie mark long enough.”
“I was doing nothing of the sort towards Octavia!”
“That was her name,” replied Celestia thoughtfully. “Octavia. I’m glad that one of us remembers. She was rather cute, wasn’t she?”
Luna scowled. “D-Dost thou not have a Sun to raise?! Go about thine duty!”
“Indeed,” replied Celestia. “I should be out, but I’ll be right back and we can have a nice little conversation before Court.” She let out a laugh, turning around and heading back out to the platform.
Luna watched, her cheeks now a burning shade of red, as Celestia’s horn was enveloped by golden light and the Sun began its ascent, mingling for a moment with the stars and the moon. Celestia sighed contentedly and rejoined her sister.
“Well done, ‘Tia. ‘Tis a beautiful sunrise.”
“It has none of the finesse of your night, but thank you.”
They stood together for a moment, watching over Canterlot as the first ponies began trickling out of their homes.
“So, about Octavia Philharmonica.”
“‘Tia!”
***
Luna clapped happily. “Well done, Octavia. Your talent never ceases to amaze!”
Octavia flourished her bow, taking a bow before laying her cello on its side. “Thank you, Luna. I knew there was a reason I keep coming here.”
Luna placed an offended hoof on her chest. “Is it not to bask in our presence?”
“Mmmmmm. No. Definitely to inflate my ego.Which is normally a difficult task as Vinyl’s reaction to my practicing is earplugs.”
Luna reached into a nearby picnic basket, pulling out a carefully-crafted, royal blue cupcake. “‘Tis not the only thing that’s inflating.”
She barely even had the time to regret those words.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” asked Octavia with an eyebrow raised as sharply as a sword.
“We-We were referring to ourselves!” Luna gestured towards the basket. “We have spent many nights eating nothing but cupcakes with thee! We fear that We will be in an entirely different shape soon.” She glanced down self-consciously. “A circle.”
“Says Princess Luna, the most beautiful mare in Equestria.”
Luna glanced upwards. “Dost thou think that of us?”
Octavia turned slightly pink and scratched the back of her head. “Well, that’s what Canterlot voted. I read it in a tabloid.”
“Oh. Of course.” Luna seemed to deflate slightly.
“But,” stammered Octavia, “but it’s not untrue.”
The Princess went wide-eyed, glancing up towards the cellist. Luna gave a warm smile. “Thou art a flatterer, Octavia. We trust thou to inflate our ego as well.” She held Octavia’s gaze for a few more moments before looking up thoughtfully. “We believe that We came across that tabloid as well. ‘Twas Celestia, not us, that took first prize. As she has for the last few centuries.”
“Clearly, there’s some sort of bias in play.”
“Or,” said Luna, levitating another pastry out of the basket, “it’s these blasted cupcakes.” She stared at it angrily before devouring it in a few bites. “A proper punishment must be carried out against bakers and their temptatious ways.”
“They’re just trying to earn a living. Besides, aren’t at least two of the Elements of Harmony quite good at baking?”
“They are traitors. Sugar-coated, frosted traitors.”
Octavia knit her eyebrows. “The Elements of Harmony?”
Luna shrugged and floated out a pair of cupcakes. One went straight to her waiting hooves, the other stopped in front of Octavia’s muzzle. “Come, O muse. Partake of these terrible delights, lest thine princess balloons to twice her size.”
“Charming.” Octavia took hold of the cupcake, carefully unpeeling the wrapper and taking small bites. “If you’re so worried about eating junk food then,” Octavia paused, “then why don’t we go to a proper restaurant?”
“Now?”
“No, not now! I’m hardly prepared for that. I’d need to make reservations and my mane’s an absolute mess.”
Luna eyed the pristinely maintained mane. “If thou sayst so.”
“No, we can’t go today. But what about tomorrow?” Octavia suddenly became very interested in the grass. “Around seven? Unless, of course, you’re busy,” she added hurriedly.
“Not at that time, no. Court would have ended; few ponies would be able to bother us.”
“Then… then it’s a date?”
Luna started. “A date?”
Octavia waved her hooves in front of her. “Well, a gathering! Time spent together and the like! Certainly not a date… I mean, not if you don’t want to call it that.”
“A date sounds wonderful, Octavia.” Luna smiled brightly. “We will be there tomorrow.”
***
“So, who’s the lucky mare, Tavi?”
“None of your business, Vinyl.” Octavia ran a brush through her mane, trying to get a particularly stubborn strand of hair into place.
“Of course it’s my business! Seriously, we both know that you can’t take care of yourself.”
Octavia looked into the mirror, giving the reflected Vinyl a raised eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Vinyl held up her hooves. “It’s a joke, Tavi, a joke. Hell, you haven’t been on any dates. I don’t have enough past knowledge to make a judgement call.”
“I assure you, Vinyl, she is an outstanding mare.”
“I know, I know. Just looking out for you, doll.” Vinyl bounced slightly on Octavia’s bed. “But what am I supposed to do while you’re gone? I’m gonna be so bored!”
“Read a book.”
Vinyl laughed. “Yeah, maybe I’ll borrow one of those crappy-ass romances you’ve got hidden away.”
“I do not read those types of books!”
Vinyl cleared her throat. “‘You can die too for all I care,’ said Buttercup. She pushed Westley down the hill, just barely able to hear him shout, ‘As you wish!’ ‘Oh, my sweet Westley. What have I done?’ asked Buttercup as she--”
There was a solid thunk as Octavia’s brush collided with Vinyl’s head. A tattered book flew from the DJ’s hooves.
“Put that down!” shouted the cellist.
Vinyl rubbed at her forehead with a grin. “See? You and your crappy romances.”
“If I ever hear you call The Princess Bride crappy again, you better hope that Harpo or Neon are kind enough to take you in.” Octavia huffed, turning back towards her mirror. “Pass me my brush.”
The brush floated itself into the cellist’s waiting hoof. “Your mane’s fine, Tavi.”
“Says you. The only time you touch a brush is when I throw one at you.”
“True enough,” Vinyl said with a shrug. “But you either freak out over your mane or because your date’ll be here in five minutes. I figured that time was the bigger thing.”
“She what?!” Octavia glanced up at a clock. 6:55. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?! She turned again, furiously running her brush.
Vinyl furrowed her brow. “How could I tell you that there were five minutes ‘til seven before now? That doesn’t make sense.”
“Vinyl!”
“Yeah, yeah. I know.” She jumped off of the bed, rummaging through Octavia’s closet before pulling out a black dress, simple enough, with a deep purple pattern, scarcely visible against the black, running along its edge. A silver box, wrapped in a blue aura, followed after the dress.“I don’t have to help you into it, do I?”
“No, but you can certainly get out.”
There was a knock on the front door.
Octavia turned in panic. “Vinyl, that’s her!”
“Yeah. A few minutes early! And you’re still getting ready.” Vinyl shook her head. “Typical mares.”
“Oh, shut up! Just go out there and talk for a bit. And try not to be terrified.” Octavia shoved Vinyl out of her room.
“What do you mean, ‘terrifi--” The door slammed in her face.
Vinyl turned around with a sigh, marching her way to the front door. She took a moment to adjust her lenses and run a hoof through her mane before swinging the door open.
A deep blue unicorn mare stood on the other side of the door, her light blue dress matching her mane perfectly. “Er… hello.”
“‘Sup?”
“W-I am Crescent Moon. I’m here to see Octavia Philharmonica?”
Vinyl nodded and trotted away from the door. Luna, lacking complete confidence in her disguise, followed after her, taking a seat in the living room directly across from Vinyl.
“You’re Vinyl Scratch, right?” asked Crescent pleasantly.
“Yup,” replied Vinyl not so pleasantly.
“Octavia’s talked a lot about you.”
“Good for her.”
Some moments of silence, then: “I’m sorry, have I offended you?”
Vinyl looked at her, one arched brow barely visible over her shades. “‘Course not. I just met you.” She looked away again. “But it’s either this or interrogating you like you’re taking Tavi to the prom. And she’s a big mare who’d beat me if she caught me doing that.”
Crescent smiled understandingly. “You care for her.”
“Like a sister.”
“I see.” She paused for a moment. “I have a sister too.”
“No kiddin’.”
Crescent nodded. “Sunny Skies. She’s my older sister. Very heavily protective of any of ‘her little ponies’. Me included. I have to wonder how she’d react if some mare came in to pick up her little sister.”
“You know her better than I do.”
Luna thought for a moment. There hadn’t been many suitors a thousand years ago. There had certainly been many rumors; reports of stallions gathering at the walls of Canterlot Castle, but she had never seen them. Then again, she never had to get up until Night Watch a millenium ago. Though Celestia certainly was… And there were those times where she was awoken by ‘thunder’ on completely clear days.
Crescent shivered. “I’d rather not think about what she’d do.”
Vinyl smiled slightly. “Tavi’s really excited about tonight, ya know?”
“I am too. Excited and nervous.”
“Hey, at least you’re here on time! Tavi’s in her room worrying about nothing.”
“Fussing with her mane?”
Vinyl laughed, shaking her head. “She swears that there’s some hair out of place.”
“There never is.”
“Nope.” Vinyl smiled. “You’re not a bad pony, Crescent.” She glanced over at the bedroom doorway, noting the shadows just behind the doorway. As though somepony were standing just outside the door, trying to gather confidence. “If Tavi asks, I was totally interrogating you and stuff, alright?”
Luna furrowed her brow. “What does thou--”
The door to Octavia’s bedroom opened. She had found her way into her dress. Luna took a moment to simply stare at her.
“Hey,” said Vinyl with a poorly-concealed smile, “eyes forwards, soldier.”
Octavia stood still for a moment, eyes blinking at the mare’s lack of wings and normal, straight mane. Her eyes fell on the strange mare’s cutie mark. Octavia smiled. “Shall we be off, then?”
Luna nodded, not quite trusting herself to speak.
“Goodbye, Vinyl.” Octavia swept past the DJ, walking to the doorway.
“Alright, Tavi.” Vinyl allowed a few moments, just enough for them to step through the door and out into the night, right as ‘Crescent Moon’ was closing the door. “And Luna, you better have her back here before midnight!”
The door shut, then quickly swung back open, revealing a very shocked Luna.
“Thou knows?!”
Vinyl looked back with complete seriousness. “Know what?”
Octavia peeked around the door. “Vinyl!”
“Cutie mark,” said the DJ reluctantly. “You might as well hang a sign that says ‘I’m the Princess of the Night’. And you might not want to mention ‘Sunny Skies’. Most of Canterlot already knows that that’s Celestia. It’s one of the main reasons Donut Joe’s got so popular.”
Luna facehoofed. “Of course. How idiotic of us.” Her horn glowed slightly and the black parts of her cutie mark melted away, leaving only the crescent moon. “Thank you, Vinyl Scratch.”
Vinyl waved a hoof. “Yeah, whatever. Now go on your date.”
***
“No!” said Octavia disbelievingly.
Luna nodded. “We assure thee. Every single one of the guards’ armors, colored pink. Shining Armor was beside himself! He was about to barge into the Throne Room, would have too, if not for Princess Cadence!” She paused to take another sip from her wine glass.
“And what did she do?”
Luna looked around, then leaned in conspiratorially. “Called him ‘cute’. This was a bit before he marriage and Shining Armor was willing to take any compliment he could get from Mi Amore Cadenza. In fact, he liked it so much that he tried to change his armor’s color to a light pink. Celestia had to talk him down to a purple.”
Octavia giggled, taking up the last forkful of her salad.
“Care for dessert?” asked Luna.
“I thought you were trying to watch your weight.”
Luna lifted an offended hoof. “And what art thou insinuating?”
“Nothing! You were worrying about it just last night!”
“This and that are two different matters!” Luna crossed her hooves, looking away with an exaggerated huff. “Thou art lucky that thou art cute, Octavia Philharmonica. We would not forgive any other pony for these indiscretions.”
Octavia rolled her eyes, hailing a waiter and taking a dessert menu. “Oh, come off it. Can we order this strawberry cheesecake? Or maybe a chocolate mousse?”
“Do they serve tiramisu?” asked Luna hopefully, craning her neck for a peek at the menu.
“I’m not quite sure.” Octavia sidled closer to Luna, turning slightly to allow the Princess a view of the menu. The cellist pointed out something that looked like ice cream. “That looks good.”
“Hmmmm. What about this?” Luna pointed at something on the menu page closest to her, but pulled her hoof away before Octavia could see it.
“What? This?”
“No, this.”
Octavia leaned in a bit closer. “I’m not quite sure what you’re pointing at.”
Luna took her chance, quickly placing a peck on Octavia’s cheek. The cellist shot away in shock.
“We apologize,” said the Princess with a grin, “‘twas just a figment of the mind.”
Octavia placed a hoof on her own cheek. She could still feel where Luna’s lips had landed. “You… you kissed me.”
A flash of worry crossed Luna’s face. “W-Was it not wanted?” Luna’s voice picked up speed as she went on. “We apologize, We thought that the mood had--‘Twas not our intention to make thee--”
“No,” interrupted Octavia. “It’s fine.” She smiled up at Luna. “Unexpected. But not unwanted.”
“Then,” began Luna uncertainly, “then may We kiss thee again?”
“Without the trickery this time?”
Luna’s eyes gleamed slightly. “This time, yes.”
Octavia leaned forward, her eyes half-closed. Luna mimicked the gesture, bridging the gap between them. Their lips met. They stayed that way for a few seconds before breaking away. Awkward smiles all around.
“Would you care for dessert?” The waitress stood at the edge of the table, floating a pad of paper and a pen before her.
Octavia and Luna nearly jumped out of their seats. The waitress smiled pleasantly.
“Tiramisu, please,” mumbled Luna.
The waitress nodded, turning towards Octavia. “And for you?”
The cellist kept her gaze on the table, her face growing redder by the second. “I think we’ll just share.”
***
Back in the park. The same clearing. Their clearing. No cello this time, unfortunately, but that hardly seemed important. They say in the grass, huddled close to each other. It would take ages to get their dresses back to working order.
“Why were you hiding?” asked Octavia.
Luna had dropped her disguise. “Hmmmm?”
“Back when we first spoke. You were hiding behind that tree.”
“Ah, yes. Well…” Luna cleared her throat. “We were simply listening to thine music.”
“You could have done that from out here.”
Luna grinned sheepishly. “We had grown used to hiding.”
“Elaborate.”
“As thou commands.” Luna pawed at the grass self-consciously. “‘Twas not the first time we had heard thee play, Octavia. We had been here some half-dozen times before then, right behind that very same tree.”
“That’s… rather creepy.”
“Would you rather that the Princess of the Night swooped down on thee in the midst of a performance, demanding to know what thou were playing?”
Octavia pretended to think for a moment. “No. I think that I would have been sent running.”
“‘Twas what We believed,” said Luna with a nod. “So we sat behind that tree and listened to thee played and We returned whenever We didst hear thine music.” She smiled down at the cellist. “We were glad, Octavia, that another pony was enjoying our night. And our happiness grew upon seeing that it was thee.”
Octavia nuzzled against the Princess, sighing contentedly as they staved off the night’s chill.
“That night,” continued Luna, “the night that we met, We were in a particularly grim state of mind. Thine music soothed it and thine presence made it disappear altogether.” She draped a wing over Octavia. “We are glad that our clumsiness brought us closer to thee.”
Octavia smiled. “I’m amazed that you’re capable of being clumsy.”
“Dreadfully so, we fear. And what of thee, Octavia? Why were thou here that night.”
“First chair of the Canterlot Philharmonic, guest lecturer at the Conservatory, roommate to one of the most eccentric ponies in all of Equestria who had decided that practical jokes were a good idea. Take your pick of reasons.”
Luna nodded. “And the other times? Thou were not suffering from stress every time that thou came here, were thee?”
Octavia shook her head.
“Then why?”
The cellist turned towards the Princess with a questioning glance. Octavia craned her neck slightly, kissing Luna softly.
“You were here. What other reason do I need?”