//------------------------------// // The Harmony: Part 2 // Story: For Sonnets and Harmony // by The Wizard of Words //------------------------------// Octavia couldn’t remember a time a room ever felt so still. The floor she walked across was more fluid than the air she breathed. It was as if time had frozen the world, its last act to open the doors separating Octavia the alicorn from her unaware family and friends. Forget the floor, falling to the earth felt like a more forgiving surface. But now was not the time to think, not about how she felt. Not when her friends were waiting for her, not when it mattered most. She drew in a deep breath of stale air, marching through the doorway. She trotted gracefully into the dining hall, head held high and wings tight to her sides. Though she was here only earlier today, having both planned and prepared the room in its entirety with the aid of Luna, it still felt like she was walking into a brand new world. Octavia trotted past the pony who had told her secret, a stallions dressed in dark gold and a coat to match. His expression was neutral, likely more practiced than the rising of the sun. He said nothing and reacted not at all when she walked by. At the railings of the stairway, looking down over the set tables and dining hall, Octavia stopped herself to gaze upon the room. All eyes were on her, as she well expected. Eyes full of wonder, of awe, of shock, and of disbelief. She looked at each and everyone of them, staring at them as she would a new musical piece. She saw the members of the Apple Family, friends she had made not but a few weeks prior. She saw them and many more members of the large family. Octavia saw Candy and Caramel smiling up at her, looking at her as if she were a gift on their birthday. She saw Tart sitting behind them, grinning with his eyes fixed on her. But then across from and around them, she saw other members of the family, members she knew only through name and conversation. A stallion red as the sun and matching Tart’s frame, looking with an expression caught between bemused and confused. An elder mare beside him, far more expressive with her slack jaw and screwed eyes. Then a foal between them, gaping in wonder. Then she saw Fiddlesticks, the friend who had taught her of energy in symphony. She wasn’t staring in joy, in shock, or much at all. Her yellow coated doppelganger was nodding, fixing her alabaster hat as she did so. Confidence, gifted without a word. Drifter sat just beside her, looking almost as bashful as Octavia felt. Almost. He was still as a statue, no different than every other pony in the hall, but still able enough to show something other than terror in his gaze. That was faith, faith in Octavia. Perhaps it was blind, and unfortunately likely so, but it was more faith in her than she, herself, felt. Octavia’s eyes turned scarcely, but they set upon a group of friends she had heard much of, but met only a few. The Former Bearers of the Elements of Harmony, now guardians of sorts for Equestria. There was a pony with an orange coat, adjusting a hat little different than Fiddlestick’s, likely trying to reassess her eyes. A pink maned pegasus, mouth hidden behind her hooves, even more of her body hidden behind her wings. A unicorn with an alabaster coat, her hoof to her chest in shock, likely disbelief. A fluffy pink earth pony, who looked ready to scream with joy, eyes larger than any stomach Octavia had ever seen or heard of. Then there was a pegasus with a mane of rainbows, with strong wings flared and hooves on the table. She stared with pink eyes in wonder, likely fighting an urge Octavia couldn’t understand. She knew that only because of the princess beside said pegasus, Princess Twilight Sparkle. The lavender alicorn was smiling up to her, her eyes full of wisdom, knowledge, and faith. All things she had given to Octavia, through practice or example. All things she needed now. She showed that wisdom now, having a hoof over the rainbow maned pegasus, holding the mare from flying into the air. She had predicted what would come, and acted accordingly. Just as Octavia was to do in music, just as she was to do now. And, ironically, just as the figure next to the six of them liked to change. Beside Princess Twilight, across from the pink maned pegasus, sat the copiously compiled draconequus, Discord. He looked no different than when he had intruded in the waiting room, had no more appendages on him or around him, and was holding no extra dimensional object in his grasp. He only stared up at her, lightly beating the talons and digits of his claw and paw together, waiting. Waiting for what Octavia hoped wouldn’t come. Another small twist of her head, and she saw another group of ponies. This was a group she had been with for a non-insignificant portion of her life. The Canterlot Orchestra, mares and stallions that she had practiced with most days and many nights. Together they had played symphonies written ages ago, celebrated performances that had attracted audiences from across the land, far beyond Equestria’s borders. The members of the strings, that could play any tune swift or slow. The percussionists, able to shake the theatre hall. The brass performers, bellowing tunes that could make one rumble with anticipation. They were all there, every last one of them. Just as many as when Discord performed his chaotic symphony, and equal to the number of ponies Octavia practiced with. They were all staring at her, all with expressions that were far and away from calm or controlled. There was confusion in their eyes, disbelief as well, but the one expression she so commonly saw in their numbers was the one she hated the most; betrayal. And two ponies that wore it the most were the two she would have traded her life to prevent. Octavia’s mother and father. Former members of the Canterlot Orchestra, master musicians in their generation, retired with honors to raise a foal they had together, to raise Octavia together. They were the ones who raised her from birth. Late-night stories to lull her to sleep, diligent hours of practiced always followed with promises of success, hug and kisses to sweep the worries of the world away, and life lessons delivered through both actions and words. Octavia so frequently saw them smiling together that seeing them in any other light almost looked wrong. Now was no different. Now she felt the same cold dread she had just barely beaten away before come dripping back into the core of her heart. The upturned frown on her father’s face, the quivering lips over her mother’s lips, they were both matched with wide teary eyes. They didn’t know what to think, but they had deserved to know, and Octavia didn’t give them that. Betrayal indeed. She looked away, she had to. Maybe faster than was necessary, likely lacking the grace all the princesses had shown before her, but Octavia could stare at the Orchestra or her parents for a moment longer, not without tears coming to her own gaze. That possibility was far from gone. Instead her eyes settled on another cornerstone of her life, another pair of friends, new and old; two mares that embodied freedom in two different ways. One DJ Vinyl Scratch, as she enjoyed calling herself. It was almost relieving to see her friend donning her usual lavender shades, too thick to see the magenta eyes that lay beneath. Her neon mane was still spiked at odd angles, looking more fitting at a late night bar then a dining hall for royalty. However, all of that, complete with her friend’s near signature smirk, helped Octavia’s uneasy heart in ways words did no justice. Just beside her was another mare that Octavia considered a dear friend, one she had known for less than a few months now. Ditzy Doo, the wall-eyed delivery mare. Only one of her golden orbs was focused on Octavia, the other seemingly looking at the long dinner table she sat at. Her equally golden mane was combed messily, her grin just as lopsided, but she looked every bit the mare Octavia could depend on for kind honesty. It showed all the more with the small foal by her side, equal shades of gray in their coat. It took little time to see the wonder in the filly’s eyes, sparkling as if her horn were alight. It took just as long to see where Ditzy received her motherly instincts from. Doubtlessly, though they had never met, Octavia was sure she was gazing upon Dinky. They would have to speak later… Speak… she still had to speak. Another slow breath of air, the loudest sound in the grand dining hall. If just a pitch higher, Octavia was fearful that her breath would shatter the stillness of the air. And yet she would have to speak, give a speech, talk with a confidence she sorely lacked. How was that to be done? It was only the practice of music that kept her eyes from frantic searching, her hooves from nervous twitching. Spontaneous movements served little purpose and gave few results when handling an instrument as delicate and powerful as the cello. A voice in her mind told her that a speech to her peers would be little different. But she still searched the crowd, slowly and methodically. There had to be something, some small thing to lay her eyes on to give her strength, metaphorical or literal, either were fine. Eager faces, expectant faces, nervous faces, hurt faces, so many faces, but none that gave her strength. Until she settled upon the obvious ones. Princess Luna and Princess Celestia, the royal diarchs of Canterlot and all of Equestria. Unsurprisingly, they looked no different than when she had seen them only a few moments prior, though it felt like a lifetime now. They were both looking to her, the only two to be looking at her with a gaze different than everyone else. There was a hint of expectation in each of their gazes, a tint of curiosity, but more than anything else, Octavia saw serenity. She saw it more in the darker of the two. Luna, looking to her through her ethereal mane, her eyes imploring Octavia, encouraging her, cheering her on with sight alone. And Octavia could feel it. She could feel it as she felt the same diarch’s wing along her back just as it was before. And it felt good. She swallowed the ball she felt in her throat, ridding herself of the last excuse to run and hide. Now was the time to speak. Now was the time to test everything she had been taught, trained, and prepared for. “H-Hello everyone,” her voice came out shaky and uneven. Not a good start. Octavia only just managed to hide the grimace her face so desperately wanted to pull. Perhaps later, when she was evaluating her own performance as she so often did. Later, but most certainly not now. “Let me… begin by thanking you all for coming. It truly means the world to me to know you all could make it.” There were no dishonesties in that statement. For every wide-eyed stare focused on her, a part of her mind told her a pony absence would be even worse. “I know that you must be feeling confused, probably a bit mortified as well. There are probably more questions in your head then you know what to do with.” Octavia wasn’t even sure herself if she was joking or not. “I know that’s how you feel, because it’s the same way I felt when I saw myself like… this.” Speaking the words mortified her. It was even worse when she waved one of her hooves over her body, wings lightly shaking to show their presence even more. She bit her tongue to hide a grimace. A blessed murmur ran through the dining hall, light as a spring’s drizzle. It was the first break in the air since her entrance, the first noise made other than her. It almost weird to be thankful for such an odd thing. Octavia put the thought from her mind. She had to focus, now. “I had… no more warning for this than any of you did. I simply woke up in the morning, some months ago, and found myself with a new pair of wings and a horn to match.” Now a grin pulled at her lips. She hated the action even as her body fought her for it. She hoped her distance above the ponies would hide it well enough. “There were no warnings or indications, no promises or trades made. I simply… for lack of a better term, ascended.” Even after months of work that was the only term Octavia could truly think to call this. Changed was too minor. It didn’t have the weight that this did, the weight that currently sat in her stomach, which grew with every second that passed under multiple gazes of scrutiny. “It was frightening, horrific even, not even knowing if I was myself anymore. Seeing a mare in the mirror that looked so similar and yet so different.” Memories that Octavia did not enjoy to see worked their way to her lips. “I thought for the day entire I was stuck in a fever dream, unable to wake up. More than a dozen times I counted the items in my room, looking for any hint that it was all in my mind, yet I never found one.” Maybe as a trick of a fate, maybe as an instinct in her mind, Octavia’s eyes flicked towards Vinyl. More than any other part of the neon-maned unicorn, Octavia saw that her lips were no longer pulled into a confident smirk. She was thinking back to that day as well, probably just know thinking about what Octavia felt. Octavia did the same for her. “It wasn’t until Vinyl Scratch came into my room that I realized how real this all was.” Octavia heard more than saw the rustling of ponies looking towards the DJ pony. Her own eyes were still fixed on the alabaster mare. “She could see that I was terrified, mortified even. And even though she was my friend… is my friend, I could not stop the thought that my life as I knew it was over.” The silence had changed. It was just as prevalent, just as thick. But now, it was made of something else other than shock. It was made of what Octavia had felt earlier. Earlier as in a few moments and a few months. It was made of dread. She could fix that. She had to fix that. “Were I the same mare as I was back then, I would never have been able to show myself to you all as I am now. In fact, I have no idea what I would have done, or where’d I be.” Again, no dishonesty, no lies. “My body changed in the span of a night. But over the past few months, with the aid of friends old and new, my mind began to change as well.” Octavia could see the ponies in the dining hall who knew of what she spoke. She saw Vinyl’s smirk return with a vengeance, Fiddle crossing her forehooves with a beaming gaze, Ditzy smiling with an open mouth, and perhaps most importantly, Princess Luna’s calm gaze. The cellist drew in a slow breath before continuing. “Vinyl Scratch, an enduring friend of mine, made plans to help me within moments of understanding what happened to me.” The unicorn nodded as sagely as she could. It still appeared that she was merely bobbing her head to some unheard rhythm. “From there, she only spent more time helping me with my magic, encouraging me with her music, and never failing to be there for me. I never knew the depths of loyalty until she showed them to me.” The stars was dimmer than the DJ’s grin. “Ditzy Do, a delivery mare I met only through arrangements from royalty, showed exactly how to control my wings.” Octavia grinned. If not for her words, then for watching the small foal Dinky chatter excitedly up to Ditzy. Said mare gaze back at her. “But more than that, she showed me that limitations weren’t real, that all hurdles in life can become strengths. And, all of this, she taught with smiles and encouragement. I never would have expected so much out of another pony. Ditzy showed me kindness in a way only a mother knows how to show.” Dinky was clapping her hooves for her mother. It resounded through the silence following Octavia’s words, but only briefly. “Fiddlesticks of the Apple Family.” Said doppelganger straightened herself up as she spoke, Tart nudging her lightly from behind. Octavia saw Twilight’s hat-wearing friend nod towards her as well. “A mare living a life so opposite to my own, despite looking so strikingly my twin. Even before our first meeting, she organized for me to stay with her family, to live and eat with them without question. Their only request was a bit of music to help their work. Fiddlesticks and I played together, and we did so with unmatched energy.” Octavia brushed over the finer details. “Three days were all I spent in her company, but she showed me more generosity than some ponies do in their entire life.” “Drifter, a pegasus I met by pure chance,” said blue stallion only shook out of his seat when she said his name. He clearly wasn’t expecting to receive any kind of attention. To his credit, Octavia didn’t realize his importance until she thought about it. “I honestly saw very little of him, but whenever I did, he was nothing but honest with what he felt. That honesty gave me ease, and that ease made all the tasks that followed so much simpler. Even briefly, if but a hint, Drifter conveyed the importance and power in honesty.” Octavia was sure she had never seen a pony, be it mare or stallion, look so nervously pleased. “Discord,” Octavia spoke the draconequus’s name with an audible dip her voice. It was a strange comfort, a change not due to nervousness or fear. It was probably just unexpected enough for the mad god to enjoy it. His grin, expanding beyond the edges of long face said as much. “He, in ways only he will ever know, has helped me understand who I know am. Not with lessons or examples, but questions that I had to answer. And answering those questions has shown me more than I ever would expect.” It wasn’t strange, far from it, but the smug look of satisfaction was right at home on the top-hat wearing mischief maker. “Finding joy and laughter where most others see only confusion or fear, that is something I will never forget.” “And perhaps more than any other pony, Princess Luna.” It was impossible to miss the second murmur of noise that ran through the hall. Firecrackers were softer, but Octavia blamed the previous silence. “She has aided me in every way a mare can help another. She gave me comfort when my worries became too great, advice when I didn’t know what to do, lessons in flight, instruction in magic, and even duets between our music. Thanks, be it simple or otherwise, will never be enough.” She felt herself smiling, each memory as clear as the air at night. Her eyes saw Luna smiling as well. She hoped it was for the same reason; she knew it was. “I have made many friends in the months that have passed, friends that I can say with certainty and fact have shown me the true strength in numbers. I can never say with words the thanks I have for them. And Luna, the mare who has only encouraged me to meet and learn with them, has shown me the magic that is friendship.” The weight was lifting in her stomach. It was lifting because, staring at Luna, she felt lighter than air. “They’ve all helped me, in so many ways more than I thought ponies were able to help one another.” Octavia turned her gaze now to the couple in the room she had known for beyond all her life. They stared back at her, gaze far more comforting than before. It was so much easier to smile at her parents when they were smiling back at her. “I owe them all more than I may ever be able to repay.” The gazes were easier on her now. There were still just as many eyes upon her, just as many ponies staring at her with wonder and abandon, but now she saw nothing she loathed. There were no nervous expressions, no hints of disgust, and perhaps most importantly, no faces of betrayal. In the eyes of her friends, colleagues, and family, Octavia Melody saw nothing to fear. To be sure, not all gazes were of bliss. There was still curiosity, confusion, and perhaps a bit of trepidation, but nothing more than she felt everyday so far in front of a mirror. Her words had done a lot, had done more than she thought they could ever do. But it wasn’t enough. Words alone very rarely were. Her parents, the mare and stallion that now gazes at her with forehooves clasped together, had taught her as such. When words fail to go far enough, or the other party remains unconvinced, always show through what is left through action. Language of the heart will trump all else. “My words and testimony will not do justice to what these ponies have done for me, but I wish for you all to know just how greatly they have helped me change, to accept and understand who I now I am.” That was important, because how could they accept her unless they knew she accepted herself? Another soft murmur, the third this time, traveled through the crowd. Curiosity this time, as Octavia knew the question would draw. How else were they expected to react? But that was good, right now at least. It was a curiosity she had seen other ponies cultivate before. Curiosities for a performance always drew the most enthralled of crowds. Octavia slipped lightly to her side, traveling towards and down the staircase. Her hooves hardly made a sound over the fabric that lined the steps. But for each step she took, the sound in the air dropped an audible notch, coming again to the dead silence before she had even reached half way. It was as unnerving as ever, but Octavia expected it. They were focused now, not shocked. They were watching her to observe, not to gape in awe. This was better. It was no different than how the many ponies in the audience would act at a performance hall, watching the musicians in their craft. She could handle that with grace. Her hooves clicked as she walked across the tiled floor, on the ground next to the many tables. All eyes were on her as she marched. She gave her own glace to each curious gaze, ponies lightly muttering to themselves. For more than a few, she would have liked to stop and talk, to chat and explain, but her duty called. It was a job she had sworn to many years ago. Not even a pair of wings and horn would change that. It took little time for her to reach the curtain of the stage, pulled shut and likely ignored. Why think of such a plain thing when so much more was happening? An audience preferred to talk amongst themselves so long as the curtain was closed. But when it was drawn, conversation ceased. This would be the first conversations were already at an end before the drape was pulled. A low cello rumbled through Octavia’s mind, one she had known the sound of since a young age. She felt horn alight with the sound. Near in tandem, the soft mutterings of the dining hall turned into quickened gossip. One only needed the mind of a foal to wonder what they were thinking of. It mattered little to think of now. They’re questions would be answered by demonstrations now. The cello in Octavia’s mind grew in volume, her gray aura pulling over the curtains as she did so. With a small change in note, a rise in pitch, the curtains began to draw themselves back. Large and heavy, red with anticipation, the drapes folded themselves against far walls, revealing the items behind. When they became clear to sight, even Octavia felt her breath stolen away. They were the instruments of an Orchestra, laid out in the manner any musician worth her skill would know. The brass near the back, wind instruments just before them, violas up front, the violins to the left, percussion in the far rear, and the near-sacred heavy strings to just the right. It was all exactly as it should be. Octavia and Luna had both seen to it. This was how she and Luna had arranged them, the first things they had organized when assembling the dining hall. Each knew well how to organize the instruments, both having a love for the symphonies and harmonies a well designed orchestra could create. There was, to be simple, no replacement. But what made Octavia forget the breath in her lungs were not the instruments or how they were lain out. It was that none of them were the same ones she and Luna had placed before. The first instruments were all made of well crafted oak, perfectly smelted brass, expertly drawn and sewn percussions for the drums. They looked every bit the part of an Orchestra. These… These all had the design of the night upon them. Each instrument radiated with a dark light that captivated her gaze. The reflected dark hues of blue and black, dotted with white spots that seemed to gleam. The strings created trails for comets, the holes in the flutes made up the empty parts of the sky, and on and on. Simply, Octavia was no longer looking at a simple orchestra, no matter how immaculate. She was gazing upon a collection of instruments designed for, and quite possibly by, the night. But in front of all them, sitting where the conductor would normally stand, was a cello. It was a cello so much like her own, and yet so different from the many that now made up this orchestra. It was not colored as the night, not designed to be a part of the endless sky. It was, by straight comparison, very plain. Just one solid lavender, up and down and likely around. The same four strings, likely pulled and tuned to the most careful of degrees, and a bow of the same color sitting on the chair it leaned on. It was one of the most beautiful things she had ever laid eyes on. It took a moment for Octavia to hear the questions from the ponies behind her; her ears momentarily mute to the sound. Her mind was able to connect quickly where this had happened, when this had happened. Luna was late, late to a party she had arranged and swore to be prompt for. Late to change, or likely redesign, the instruments. Octavia turned to face her, curiosity in her gaze. In the eyes of the lunar diarch, she saw only eagerness. It was… almost surprising. A silent conversation went between them, muted and crystal clear through the many ponies that chatted and gazed upon the Orchestra. Luna had changed the instruments to her night, had substituted Octavia’s cello for one colored as her cutie mark, complementary to her coat. That cello, and the gray alicorn behind it, would control and lead the rest of the orchestra. Luna was asking Octavia to guide her night in song. It was nearly enough to draw tears from her eyes. In the very least, it made her chest quiver with a feeling so similar to nervousness, yet so indefinably more welcome. This was so much more than a small favor or a minor task. This… this was what stories were written about, legends even. Her mouth was dry, forcing her to swallow on nothing to wet it. It was humorous even, because her eyes felt damp and only moments away from spilling. Even her wings quivered, ready to send her into flight. It was the most expressive way she could think of to show joy and appreciation. Ditzy had taught her that. And Luna, through all of her calm actions and graceful appearance, had the tiniest crack in the façade she wore. Through the murmurings that still persisted through the room, through the eyes that looked from her to the lunar colored instruments, Octavia saw the same misty gaze in Luna’s eyes. The same wet expression that so carefully teetered the line of joy and sorrow. Their eyes looked only at one another, not even hinting towards a glance anywhere else. Luna had given her confidence, had given her a path, had even given her a future that at one point seemed so impossible. And now, the lunar princess was offering Octavia what the cellist was sure no other stallion or mare had ever been permitted to do. She could not, and would not disappoint. With the surest of nods, and the calmest of grins, Octavia turned away from the mare, walking up the stage left. The murmurs became whispers, slowly disappearing into nothing. That meant they were focused again. That was good. Octavia felt just as motivated herself. Her hooves clicked as she walked across the stage, reaching the lavender cello. In an action she knew well, better than any other part of herself, she gripped the neck of the wooden instrument, fetlock wrapping around the strings as her other hoof reached for her bow. They felt light as air in her grasp, meant to be there, destined even. The thought made her smile. Her long gray wings lightly wrapped around the sides of the lavender base, the colors melding together seamlessly, beautifully. It all seemed right. It all felt…. correct. It was one of the greatest comforts she had. “Many of you know me for my skills with the cello,” her words came out softly, but grew in volume the more she spoke. “I have neither improved nor lessened in many handling of this instrument. But with the help of Princess Luna, and all of the friends who have offered me nothing but support, I have learned how to do so much more.” Eyes shut, ears perked, Octavia guided the lavender bow to the strings of the cello. She stopped only when she felt the strings bounce lightly at contact, her hoof bending into a familiar crux. It was almost humorous. She had not an idea of what song she would play, but she felt not even the slightest sense of unease. In fact, she knew exactly what to say. “I ask you, as my dearest friends and family, to hear what I can do.” Octavia felt her horn alight before she drew her bow across the strings. BEGIN The drums were hit twice, silencing any other noise throughout the hall. Their rumble quickly vanished, their noise not meant to linger. But the quick clash of noise they made was swiftly followed, even carried, but another instrument close by. It wasn’t Octavia’s cello. The piano, painted and drawn like the shower of stars on a clear night, played through the air. Its notes were soft, noticed only by silence of the drums, but unmistakably present. They were notes played with purpose, with meaning, for the princess that had offered Octavia this chance. It only made sense that she, or at least her instrument, led the Orchestra of the Night. The drums beat once more, but only once. The piano grew louder with the volume, rising to the challenge then percussions made. Octavia could heard the notes of the key instrument play as clearly to her ears as it did in her mind. She knew her horn was alight, but she dare not look while she played. The night needed her focus, the song her guidance. Her wings flexed across her lavender cello. Another beat of the drums, another rise in the piano’s volume, but now, Octavia joined in. She pulled her bow across the strings, commanding the violins with her gray aura to join in as well. The winds joined just as quickly, the soft grasp of the flute momentarily taking center stage. It played only a few notes, enough to lead the audience in a short dance through the mind. It just as quickly filtered off and away, the violins and her cello rising to match its performance. Her cello grew strong as the flute returned, only to find the violins would not so easily bend now. Their dance turned into a duet, lifted and encouraged by the piano and drums. Every note was played with purpose, no one instrument drowning the other. They lifted, they spun, the encouraged, and even supported, but they never hindered, never faltered. The music only grew in volume, in pitch, in grace. Before all at once, with a clash of cymbals, it fell silent. For a few beats in a measure, the dining hall was as noiseless as the void, not even a breath reaching Octavia’s perked ears. Still as stone, tense as taut rope, every pony, Octavia included, waiting for what would come next. Octavia did not disappoint. The percussions beat the cymbals, crashing to welcome the rise of all else. The violins and strings played dancing chords, opening up for the rise of the brass and flutes. They rose in patience, rising only to allow the piano to sift through. And through all else, the cello reigned supreme. Octavia felt the hollow instrument vibrate and hum with her bow, the strings commanding her as much as she controlled the music of the orchestra. She listened to its requests, following the music it told her to make, and thoroughly agreeing with every sound it produced. The rise, the falls, the crashes, the rides, the music, the symphony. It was perfect. And so she let it soften to a near silent end. Every instrument came to a soft end, all letting their last note jump and fall into the void of noise. All that remained, all that played, was the lunar piano in the recess of the orchestra. Heavenly, like the plane the night resided in. That was the word Octavia gave to the melody the piano left off with. The slow chords it played, accompanied by the rising octaves it listed up and down. Twinkling stars surrounding a captivating moon. It was wonderful, simply and utterly wonderful. So much so that Octavia didn’t want to stop. This was a song of the night, made and led by her magic, offered strength by Luna’s hoof. So as the piano continued to play on, the percussion cut in once more. Then the strings, then the winds, and the brass. Then… all at once, it rose again. Her symphony that was to a new birth, the proof and evidence of who she was now. It showed all of what Octavia Melody was capable of… As the music continued to play, flawlessly repeating it, Octavia could see what it meant to her, what her magic, her magic of the music of the soul, was trying to show. Her journey began without warning, a beat of a drum. It was quick, jarring, and nearly threw her off. But the grace of the night, the uplifting rise of the piano, guided her to a place of peace, it consoled, it lifted, and it encouraged others to help her in that once so desperate time of need. With amazing fluidity, friends and strangers began to help her, the familiar strings to the foreign flutes, all helping her out. They stepped aside when one wanted to speak, but spoke up when there was more to add. Their talks built on one another, all changing from hints and advice to lessons for life. And at the apex, when none of the instruments knew what to do, they let everything loose. They shouted out what made them great, showed off why they were who they were, made it clear, with crashing cymbals, elegant chords, and loud whistles of wind, just why they were revered, loved, and above all else, alive. They each had a part in the journey, in the winding path, and it was impossible to ignore any one of them. They fell only to rise, each one allowing the deep cello to ring through, its glory only rising with every low chord it played. Then in the end, when everything else was quiet, the piano slowly carried everything else. It let the song finish, and helped the journey come to an end. It ended one journey, but that always led into the beginning of another. The night ended to welcome a new day, and the day rested for the night to begin again. One instrument would calando to allow another to crescendo, only to trade back again. And reaching one end of the road only meant you had to start walking down another. Life was like an orchestra. No matter how grand one performance was, there would always be another to follow. END Octavia opened her eyes, wondering now what her music would let her see. She saw trails of silver and gold. Through the dining hall entire, up and down its entire length, there were trails of golden light and silver linings through the air. Like trails of clouds, or beams of light, they sparkled like shattered diamonds. They hovered, floated, as if connected by invisible strings. But for as a dusty and shimmering as the colors were, it was impossible to ignore what they were, trails. There were without a doubt or thought of confusion trails made from the dusty gold and silver. Lines that darted through the air, reaching from ends of the room to only a few seats. They bend, twirled, and twisted as they needed, but if they could be followed with eyes alone, then trails they were. They didn’t hum or twinkle as Octavia had come to expect of most magic she could see. She didn’t even hear the remnants of her song, as her own magic so often did. Despite the show of the silver and gold, not a sound was made from the trails. They were as silent as statues, but as vivid as a play. And those glossy trails of gilded yellow and polished grey lead from one pony to another. Octavia, hooves still grasped around her cello, eyes the many silvery trails that surrounded her fellow members of the orchestra. They darts from one seat to the next, stretching over the dining table and back, reaching across the room, but most importantly, running right up to her. Her eyes looked down at the many silvery trails that fell onto her coat, the glossy dust of silver that bleed and vanished into her own gray coat. They were neither warm nor cold, taut or slack, or semblance of existence at all aside from sight. But they were there, and they were extending from her, leading to so many of her fellow members in the orchestra. But they were not the only ones. She followed another path of silver, her eyes running up to Vinyl Scratch. Her alabaster coated friend was grinning almost manically at the trails, her hooves running along the dust, playing with it like felines and strands of light. The path of silver that connected them was thick and opaque, impossible to ignore. Octavia’s eyes followed another trail, another strand of silver that ran in a direction other than the orchestra. It found itself connected to Drifter, the single-winged pegasus that had only ever helped her indirectly, but had always done so with few questions. There was a trail of silver that connected, the same dusty gray, but it was almost impossible to say. Transparent, light as air, and out-shined by the multitude of other trails that darted through the air. The difference was clear as the trails themselves, and they extended left and right across the dining hall entire. Friends clear as daylight staring with renewed affection for one another, distance members following thin trails, nearly shocked by who was waiting at the other end. Hooves played through the multitude of colors, spinning them and separating them. Octavia saw the ponies she knew to be the most social nearly drowned in the trails they had. Others, much like herself, was easier to spot and see. Princess Celestia shined as if the day and night were one. Princess Luna, just beside her, glistened like the moon without a star to obstruct it. Whispers of confusion and curiosity were the only sounds made in the dining hall, lightly stopped here and there with excited cheers or laughter. Ponies guessing at what the lines meant, others correcting the confused. But as far as Octavia could tell, by sight and sound, not a pony in the crowd was anything short of joyed to see the work of her magic. Those were the ties of silver, clear as glass or thick as bricks. The paths of gold, however, were impossible to miss. She focused on Princess Cadance and Prince Shining Armor. A thick bond of gold was between them, twinkling like stars in the sun. They were gazing at it is well, lifting their eyes up only to gaze at one another. Octavia looked to another different path, seeing trails of silver that ran from Vinyl Scratch to Fiddlesticks. That made her eyes focus on the path of gold that extended from her yellow-coated doppleganger, a trail that found its way quickly to the blue pegasus beside her. Both gazed at that trail, one with eagerness and the other with dumb astonishment. And she saw that same trail of gold run between the ponies that had raised her. Her mother and father, hooves against one another, gazing at the trail as if it were confirmation of their vows. In all likelihood, it was. And those same eyes looked back to her, and Octavia saw the trail of gold that led from them. A trail of gold, a clear tie, that ran between her parents and herself. Octavia gazed at it, smiling with all the joy her heart could contain as she looked at her parents. Their eyes never wavered as they looked back to her. But that was not the only trail of gold she had. As the many other ponies in the dining hall followed their own paths, hooves playing deftly to the strands of color that ran to and from them, Octavia followed another path of gold that ran from her gray coat. It was thin, hardly worth notice compared to the band that connected her parents or the rulers of the Crystal Empire, but it was not possible to ignore its existence. A string of bright gilded gold, silent as every other string in the now glittering room, ran from Octavia Melody to Princess Luna. Mute as the colors that connected them, the two stared at one another. The humming of activity of ponies around them was forgotten. They simply looked to one another. Two alicorns, ruler and cellist, gazing from the dusty gold string that connected them to one another again. The line was immutable, impossible to ignore. It was there, a clear trail and line that connected them, shining in a color that connected to only so few others in the room. It was weak, small, like a song still in its rise. But it was there, and Octavia knew from sight alone, that neither of them wanted it to go away. And, together, they smiled. “Oh how I love to see the new being embraced,” Discord mused to himself, twisting his claws about the silver strands that extended and grew from his slytherin torso. It stretched like taffy, bent like taffy, but when he let go, it always returned to the same straight line. A part of him bet it tasted like taffy as well, sea-salt flavored. He chuckled again, plucking the strands of silver like the strings of the cello. A part of him was almost disappointed to not hear it make a sound. “But this is just the beginning,” he told himself again, a reminder for what he already knew. His grin only grew with the words, his paw and claw splitting one of the silver strands, separating it like spun yarn. He was playing cat’s cradle with the silvery dust in no time. “Who knows what wonderful little things that Octavia could do now? Maybe she’ll be her own little source of chaos. Now how grand would that be?” “It would be very rude to wish for such a thing, Discord.” The voice of his shy friend made Discord drop the strings of silver he was playing with. They melded back together in an instant, all without even a pop of sound. They did dust the air with silver, which was a fun sight to see. “Octavia has just done a very brave thing. It would be inappropriate to hope she does this too often in the future.” “It would be?” Discord asked as if appalled, dragon claw sliding to his throat as he did so. One of his talons caught a spare string of gold as he did so. It looked almost like a necklace. “I thought she did a splendid job of showing how easily brand new shakes up the old, showing what lies beneath with ears over eyes.” As if to demonstrate his point, Discord flipped his forelimbs over his head, instantly swapping his pupils and ears. Fluttershy appeared patiently unimpressed. “Oh come now, Fluttershy,” Discord spoke on, a light flash and bang returning his eyes and ears back to their original, if slightly crooked, positions. “Look around you. The little gray cellist has just given me one of the greatest shows I’ve seen in a good long while, and all with me doing little more than asking a few questions. And as far as my old eyes can see, no pony seems anything but pleased by it.” He wouldn’t have made a point unless he knew it was right. And, when Fluttershy turned her head to see the friends around her, she too saw that there was not a single frown in the crowd. Every mare and stallion, of every age and family, were smiling brightly and pleased, looking from one another as they played with the ties that bound them. Together, Discord and Fluttershy saw as the members of the Orchestra plucked the silver lines between them, likely similar to how they would handle their own instruments. They watched as Cadance and Shining twirled their hooves about the thick golden bond between them, bright enough to make the candle light moot. But more than that, they watched as Princess Luna and Octavia Melody spoke to one another, their bond of silvery gold dancing about their hooves with practiced ease. Fluttershy heard Discord chuckle again. The draconequus held back a mirthful laughter, held back by the promise he had made to the princess and cellist. A rare deal, but one he was obligated in multiple ways to keep. His mismatched eyes focused on Octavia Melody, on the alicorn so different, so strange, and all together more enjoyable than he ever dreamed she could be. For a god of mischief, that was gift by itself. “Nothing new is ever seen with grace,” he spoke cryptically as ever. “It’s only when it proves its worth that it is called the norm. And the new norm, no matter how different, is always tended to be loved.” “Discord… that doesn’t make much sense.” Fluttershy noted lightly, but far and away from chastely. Discord only grinned crookedly before responding. “Oh Fluttershy, the greatest things in life never do.”