by Meltian
The first quick succession of notes flowed and danced their way through to the outer reaches of a modest, top floor, upper class apartment in Canterlot, just shy of the grounds of Canterlot castle itself. The apartment’s sole occupant muttered to herself before taking a pause, bow held out to her side. That wouldn’t do at all… from the beginning, then. The notes played once again, in perfect rhythm this time, much to the mare’s satisfaction, and they gave way to Für Elise, her own personal arrangement, (for cello, of course.)
It was as she really started playing in earnest that Octavia let her mind wander, her hooves already settling into a familiar rhythm that only thousands of hours of practice could impart. She couldn’t help but marvel at the beauty of music, --All music, she begrudgingly admitted to herself. Unfortunately, Vinyl’s ‘Wubs,’ as she affectionately called them, did count-- in that music itself was a language. Not just any language, mind you, but an international one.
It mattered not who you were, where you came from, what language you spoke, or any of those other trivialities. Everypony still understood and found enjoyment in music. It was a language of emotions, both beautiful and cruel; it spoke of fear, anger, jealousy, joy and excitement, all the way to… love.
The last notes of her piece died out as the bow ran across the strings, the song ending on one last smooth, drawn out note, and then, silence. She gently lowered her hoof, letting the silence reign as her thoughts continued on, head held low and eyes closed. Love was a big one. Countless pieces of music through the generations had been written for the sake of love, and it would continue that many more would be.
She had written many, admittedly, for the sake of her own love, as much as that particularly pony drove her up the wall on a daily basis. She cracked an eye open, taking a glance at the clock resting against the desk on the far wall of the room. It was almost that time. Soon, after nearly a year of preparation, of tutoring consisting of four or more hour sessions at least three times a week, she would be assisting another in doing the same. Her student wasn’t quite there yet; It would still be another month at the least before Octavia felt that she was well-versed enough in her new art to competently construct a composition of her very own (With some creative assistance, at least.)
Of course, she thought to herself as she set her cello down in its usual stand in the corner of the studio, Chrysalis had surprised her quite thoroughly in the past.
She had been quite surprised, obviously, the day that the Queen of Changelings had come knocking on her door. Vinyl had been out setting up for one of her gigs, so Octavia found herself with a rare moment of peace, and as such, had decided to spend her late afternoon with what Vinyl would have called a ‘Jam session.’
The knock on the door had come with a start, pulling Octavia away from blissful reverie. She hadn’t been expecting visitors, and she certainly hadn’t been expecting to come face to face, or rather… face to chest, with the being that only a year and a half prior had invaded Canterlot in a vicious attempt to usurp the throne.
It was different now. Since then, changelings had started integration into society, led by the combined efforts of the Princesses, --Princess Twilight Sparkle chief among them-- and the very changeling queen that stood before her. That did not make the sight before her any less jarring, however.
Chrysalis stood before her, her posture straight, and her head held high. Octavia noted that, whatever her reason, the Changeling Queen seemed to be trying to inflate her own sense of self-importance. It was then, as she finally made an attempt to speak, that she noticed the terrifyingly familiar flyer that Chrysalis held within her magical grasp.
“Octavia Melody? I hear tell that you give… lessons. I’m hiring you, and I want to start right away.”
Thus was the start of perhaps the oddest year of her admittedly short life. She had her doubts at first, of course. What could a changeling, and a Queen at that, have any use for learning the cello? She strongly believed that Music was a language of many different concepts and emotions, but a race whose focus seemed to be on the gathering and making use of love didn’t seem the type to have time for such kinds of recreation.
In the end, bits were bits, and though Chrysalis remained aloof and distant, it came as a great surprise to Octavia that she was picking up on the basics quite quickly. She learned later that as a race that practically lived and breathed espionage, they had to be able to adapt to their surroundings quite fast. It was no less surprising, though.
And so, time went on, and Chrysalis’ visits became just another routine part of the week, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at exactly one PM, just after lunch, and they would go over the previous lesson briefly, followed by a warm-up, and then discussion of what they would be accomplishing that day. Not once did Chrysalis object to what she was being told, nor did she groan or yell in frustration when she hit a snag in their lessons that she just couldn’t overcome. It was only a matter of time before she had begun working through the entire works of several different composers. She was rather stoic, really, and it was another three months into their lessons that a sort of odd friendship had formed, and Octavia had learned Chrysalis’ motivations.
“I daresay that the answer has been in front of you for quite a while now, Octavia,” Chrysalis replied as she tuned her Cello one particularly pleasant afternoon, which they had decided to spend out in the park for their lesson in the shade of a particularly large, rugged oak. It was on this day that Octavia felt that their odd little friendship had reached a point of comfort close enough to pry into the Queen’s social life.
“Tell me, what do you feel when you look upon that odd little DJ companion of yours? I already know the answer, of course, being what I am, but please, humor me.” She grinned that dangerous, off-putting grin of hers, fangs bared, and her teeth on full display. Octavia was sure by this point that Chrysalis didn’t even realize when she did it.
“I-I…. I feel…” She blinked in surprise. That was it, then. Chrysalis gave a curt nod, and her bow glided across the strings of the cello to test the tuning. Satisfied, she started going through her scales.
That was it, then. It felt odd to think about, even considering just what kind of race Chrysalis was, but still, The Queen of the Changelings? In love?
“With… with who, if I might ask?” Octavia sat across from her, tail swishing to rest at her side.
Chrysalis broke into laughter, jagged and maniacal, the kind that Octavia was sure only mad scientists had any right to laugh. She wondered if Chrysalis was even aware of her habit of scaring the living daylights out of ponies; the suddenly empty park must have been some sort of tip-off at the very least.
At last, the laughter died off, and Chrysalis smirked, and stared at Octaiva with lidded eyes as she broke the ensuing silence with three simple words. They were the last three words that Octavia could have possibly expected.
“Princess Twilight Sparkle.”
Octavia chuckled as the clock struck exactly one PM and a sharp rapping at the front door caught her ears. As she trotted out of the room to answer, she couldn’t help but feel some sense of amazement at how much things picked up after that particular conversation. Lessons were filled with much more enthusiasm, their conversation topics branched out into much more interesting places, and her student shared intimate details of her exact plans to woo her beloved Twilight into marriage.
She would have to file ‘proposal via music’ away for a later date.