4th Movement
Lunch in the palace started off as tense when the bearded stallion walked through its doors once more. The looks on most of his future relatives started out as judgmental before Crescendo took his seat.
Whole Note took his seat across from him and next to Harmonic. “Was he rough on you?” the alicorn asked.
“Not really. He just wanted to know how we met and a-all.”
“So I trust that you have come to terms with your son?” Luna asked rather stoically.
Harmonic’s father sighed, “Look, I can tell some of you are still upset with me, but please understand, this is all new to me. I left so I could think this over.”
“You could have said that,” Flurry pointed out.
“I know. I know – it was both foolish and rude of me. And I shouldn’t be the one to judge since this is the future, a different country, and a new rules altogether. Besides, I don’t have much time left, and I don’t want to spend it by shunning, but to get to know all of you, as a father ought to do. So, if it isn’t too much to ask of all of you, is it possible to start this again anew?”
Around the table, ponies looked at one another. The stallion did present an excellent point, it would be anything but honorable to not give somepony a second chance when they have already extended the olive branch to the ones that were offended.
“Okay,” Cloudy said, “Hi there, I’m Cloud View, I’m five years old – who are you?”
Chuckling, the unicorn answered, “Hello there little one, I’m your great-grandfather, Crescendo.” Soon, around the table, amends were made, apologies were given, and the soup was served.
“So Harm,” Page Turner asked, “Are you guys ready for the big dinner tonight?” Crescendo asked what was so special about it, in which she explained, “Here in Canterlot, the Princesses throw a Hearth's Warming Dinner in which she gathers the most influential ponies of the year. And Harmonic came up with the idea a few years ago to throw in a recital at the dinner itself by the students at the… what’s the school called again?” she asked slyly.
“Oh! That’s right,” the Prince said with some embarrassment, “I think I’ve forgotten to tell you didn’t I?”
“Tell me what?” his father inquired before scooping up a piece of potato.
“Well, some time ago, I’ve opened up a rebuild conservatory, or a music school and I… named it after you.” This got the Instrument Maker’s attention. “Yeah, I’ve dedicated it in your name as a kind of remembrance. Anyways, the students there tend to compete to be at this dinner in hopes that they might get noticed by some of these influential ponies that’ll be there.”
“Wow son, that’s actually… such an honor that you would do that for me.” The unicorn then added with, “So this recital dinner thing, do you play at it as well?”
“Only at the very end,” his son nodded.
“Then I hope you intend on inviting me, I want to know after all these years how you sound on that violin.”
“Speaking of violins,” Twilight piped up, “Can I ask you something Mr. Trotivari?” He said that she could, “Maybe for the sake of insurance, could you tell us how you make your violins?”
The yellow unicorn put down his spoon, “What?” Princess Twilight repeated her question, but Crescendo raised an eyebrow, “Why does that concern you?”
“With all due respect sir,” the lilac alicorn clarified, “I’m asking because I just had a thought. What would happen in the future that your son’s violin gets broken? I mean, a Trotivarius violin like Harmonic’s is priceless as it is, and in the future, it’s only going to get harder to replace. Especially when each good quality violin is worth millions of bits and-”
“What did you say?” Crescendo interrupted, dropping his spoon in his bowl. His eyes inflated to the size of cartwheels, and his muzzle hung open. “My violins are worth… how much?”
“Enough to nearly bankrupt a whole country with,” Script said.
It was here that Harmonic’s father started laughing, “Millions!” he guffawed, “My dealers have been swindling me this whole time!” Crescendo laughed like a madpony, “Hey son! Did you hear that? We might have been rich, yet someone has taken all that money away, leaving us nothing but scraps!”
“Dad, calm down, that doesn’t matter anymore,” the Violinist told him. “There’s nothing any of us could do about it.”
“I know that,” his father slumped down in his seat, “But… it’s just so frustrating to hear that my instruments, my work were sold for less than what they’re really worth.”
“But look on the bright side,” Green Hoof said, “Even if you didn’t get the bits you deserved, at least you get to have some kind of immortality of how rare, and incredible the stuff you made is.”
Sighing with reluctance, the unicorn agreed, “I suppose that… Twilight isn’t it?” she nodded, “That she’s right, I’m the only one in the world who knows how to make a string instrument correctly, and it may get harder for my Instruments to get properly repaired. I’ll tell you what, after this, I’ll share you my secrets in how I make them. But only on the condition that no one outside of this room knows about it, agreed?”
Twilight was more than happy to comply.
“Now, I do have a question for all of you,” Crescendo added, “Since I have a limited time here, what should I be doing with all of you?”
“Well, since the big dinner is at six,” Celestia thought out loud, “I think that after you spend some time with Twilight, perhaps you could be with Script and his family for a bit. After that, hopefully around three, perhaps you can have tea with me, Luna, Cadence, and Flurry. After that, I suppose you can be with Note’s family; but this of course if completely up to you.”
Harmonic’s father told her that it sounded fair before returning to his soup.
_*_
In the Prince’s room, a Violin and Cello were singing together. Harmonies were practiced one last time with grace for what was about to happen in the next few hours. The melody of high and low strings hummed in counterpoint yet neither instrument offset the other. Hooves and bows synchronized their centuries-old ballet that abides both stallions to produce such music.
“Stop,” Note said taking his bow off the red cello. Harmonic did the same, in which he asked if he needed to rest. “Yeah, let my hooves stop for a sec.”
“Tired already?” His fiancé nodded. Looking at the time on the mantle, he noticed that it was getting close to five-thirty, and the Prince hasn’t seen his dad since lunch. “What do you think he’s doing now?”
“Who? Y-Your dad? I don’t know, maybe he’s talking with our family or something.”
Harmonic sat his violin down on the coffee table, “So… What do you think of him?”
Whole Not leaned back on the couch they’ve been practicing on, “For one thing, I’m impressed he didn’t act like a bully to-tow-toa- (blugh!) towards us. Sorry.”
“It’s alright. I’m actually glad that dad was able to accept the fact that I’m about to marry you.”
The cheeks on the mint green Cellist turned a light shade of pink, “Yeah. It’s almost weird isn’t it?”
“What?”
“Well… the fact that I’m going to officially be y-yours in about a year. Once all my rent is paid for of course.”
“Yet, my offer still stands,” the alicorn wrapped him with a wing, “I could provide the means for us to get hitched sooner you know.”
“Harm, we’ve been over this, I want to pay it all on my own before I move.”
“I know, but I just can’t wait for Your Highness to become my King.” Note tried to hide his blush from that comment, “Besides, a year is still a good deal of a long time to wait for.”
“But you c-can live forever,” the Cellist pointed out. “I’m sure that you’ll be able to wait a bit longer.”
“You’re no fun,” Harmonic sighed, “But if you insist, then I shall do so. Still, once we do become Husband and Stallion, where in the castle do you want to move into?”
“Huh?”
“I mean, the moment you say, ‘I do,’ you essentially become Royalty, and therefor, you can move into the palace. So, which room do you want to move into?”
“Well,” Note put a hoof under his chin, “Would you mind if I did som-something different than what your last husband did?”
“And that being?”
With a warm smile, his fiancé asked, “When we do get married, can I move in with you… i-in your room?”
“Really?” now it was the alicorn’s turn to feel a little flustered, “Are you sure you don’t want a room of your own?”
“Nah, I guess I’m a little old fashioned,” Note leaned in his withers, “Right here. This very room, with you in it… this is all I need.”
Harmonic smiled, “So you wish it, so shall it be.”
There was a knock on the Prince’s door. The Violinist opened it with his magic to find his father there.
“Oh!” Crescendo quickly looked away, “Sorry was I interrupting something?”
“Not much,” Harmonic said, getting up from the couch. “How was your day so far?”
“Interesting,” his father admitted as he walked in, “Now that I’ve just spent some time with everypony, I think I should spend the rest of my remaining hours someone that matters most. I’ve got to say, I’ve learned quite a bit about you.”
His son nodded, “I’m glad you did… But… What do we do now? You don’t have much time left, and this very well may be the last time we’ll be together as a family. Nearly everything I’ve wanted to say to you has been said.”
“Nearly?” his father raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean by that?”
“Hey, Harm?” Note asked as he got up, “S-Should I leave or…?”
“No, you can stay,” Harmonic turned back to his dad. “It’s just, with everything said and done, how do you say ‘Goodbye’ to somepony that you know you won’t see again?”
“Son,” Crescendo Trotivari, put a hoof around his neck, “truth is, I don’t know exactly what to say either. As much as I do appreciate this unique opportunity for me meeting an older you, I’m not exactly sure if there’s anything I could do or say to make this easier.”
“Aren’t you afraid?” Note cautiously asked, “I mean, with dying an all?”
The unicorn shuttered, “I’m going to go back into the fire, what pony wouldn’t be? Yet, I’ve always known that I was going to go sooner or later, just not like this.”
“Dad,” Harmonic asked, “Is there something that I could do for you?”
“The only thing I want from you is to hear you play on your violin. A sort of musical sendoff is just what I need.”
“Of course,” his son nodded, “For the recital tonight, I and Note will be playing a trio with one of the students at the very end.”
“I see,” the Instrument Maker said, now approaching the cello leaning up against the couch. Looking through the ‘f’ holes, he exclaimed, “Oh that’s right, this is one of mine.” His horn lit up to make the cello stand up. “By the looks of it on the varnish, it’s starting to fade but at least the color is still preserved. But what about the sound,” he leaned his ear on the back of the instrument, listening to the taps he gave on certain points of the Instrument. “Remarkable,” he commented as Whole Note trot in front of him, “Considering its age of… forty-five or sixty so years, the sound box is just as good since the day I made it.”
“I think your son said that it’s o-one of the la-las-last remaining red cellos in the world,” the Cellist told him.
“If I were you,” Crescendo hoofed the instrument over to him, “I keep a close eye on this.” While Note nodded, the unicorn suddenly was struck with a bit of inspiration, “Hey Harm, I have a request from you.”
_*_
The last crescendo of strings marked the end for the young student at the piano as her performance finished on the last climatic notes. This was quickly followed by the applause from ponies in the expansive Ballroom, where among the festive garlands with red flowers, and the giant decorated evergreen, Equestria’s most influential applauded from their tables or where they stood.
The young mare stood up from the piano and took a polite bow, now relieved that her piece with the students went well.
Prince Harmonic, and Whole Note applauded for her performance, they were there alongside the students at the very back of the room near the tall windowpanes. The alicorn Violinist also got up from his place to shake the student’s hoof to tell her that she did a great job.
“And now, Mares and Gentlecolts,” he said as servants started passing out music sheets to the students, much to their confusion. “Before we get to our final performance for this evening, we have a surprise, special performance for all of you to enjoy.
“Now, this next piece, of Vifilli’s Guitar Concerto in D Major, won’t be performed by anyone from the Crescendo Trotivari Conservatory.” At this news, the attendance in the room whispered in confusion. “But for this pony, he is someone who is widely known in the music world, yet this will be his first, and unfortunately, his last recital.
“In fact, this particular pony, for this night only, will be playing for not only for you but for me as well, on the very instruments that he had painstakingly created. For tonight, all three movements of the Guitar Concerto will be performed, by my father, Crescendo Trotivari himself!”
The doors to the back of the Ballroom opened, there, the guest found three ponies there. Two of them were Guards who stood next to the pony in the middle with an old looking guitar in his copper aura. Not to say that the room erupted in amazement, suspicion, and some shock in others.
Many of the guests noticed as the bearded stallion walked in, he did seem to get increasingly nervous. His hooves were shaking and twitched, even his glasses nearly fell off several times in which he had to readjust it.
This didn’t go unnoticed by Harmonic who flew over to his father’s side whispering, “Dad, do you want to back out of this now?”
“No, I-I think I can still do this. I know this is the last minute since I doubt that these ponies really rehearsed this.”
“But are you sure that you can still perform? This isn’t the streets or anything like that.”
“Look at them,” his father pointed out, “They all know I’m here, so there’s no turning back now since they want me to play… Although I admit… This is rather a bit large than what I’m used to.”
“Okay then,” Harmonic said as they climbed up the stairs to the platform. “A bit of advice, don’t focus on them, only the music sheets and nothing else.”
“I hope the few minutes of practice would help,” Crescendo muttered before taking his place at the very center of the platform where the music stand was. Now placing the wooden instrument in his hooves, he glanced at the first few notes. To his son’s credit, the piece he chose for him did seem easy for him to follow. And as he noticed from his limited practice time, each movement moved at comforting speeds in which he could manage to perform.
“Ready Dad?” his son asked, placing the violin underneath his chin.
Taking a deep breath, the unicorn looked only at the music before him, placing his hooves on the strings, he gave a nod; cueing Harmonic to start the concerto.
For the first movement, strings from the student’s instruments and even the guitar bounced with each note. This bubbly melody from the Braeque era was as warm as the room it was played in. Almost possessing the personality of a young, playful filly on the first day of summer. The tiny orchestra made up of students played off from the stallion in which their school was named after. It truly was surreal for nearly all the ponies present in the room to hear the solos from the same pony that carved these priceless masterpieces.
Among the audience listening, where the clanking sounds of china, silver, and cut crystal muted to listen to this unusual performance. Even the Royal Family present, some of them couldn’t help but fall under the spell of Crescendo’s lighthearted performance. Cloud View and Princess Cadence were either bouncing their heads or tapping to the lively beats of both guitar and bowed instruments.
As for Whole Note on his new red cello, his strings danced with pizzicato to accompany his fiancé’s father’s solo. Even for him who has played pieces with this much whimsy, it was difficult not to get intoxicated in this music.
For Harmonic, all he could feel as he played along with the students, Note, and his father was nostalgia. In a way, his dad’s nervous playing was better than how he’d remembered it. There was a sense of peace as the music went on.
Crescendo Trotivari, however, he was doing his best to not only follow the notes but to keep his eyes off of what he assumed to be judgmental eyes from everypony that was listening. Even though he played his own instruments in his lifetime as a form of advertisement, he’d never dreamed of playing in front of some powerful ponies in a place like this.
Once the first movement was finished, there was polite applause, ‘That’s good I suppose,’ the Instrument Maker thought.
On with the slower, second movement, where this time, the atmosphere of the music had changed. While this one was longer than the other three, Crescendo actually like this part because of how relaxing it was. Yes, that was what this movement was, a perfect representation of pausing to take something in.
This simple tune gave the stallion confidence as it went on. With violins and cellos transfigure the moment into something beyond sublime. It was almost as if the orchestra was meditating yet never interrupting the Guitarist’s thoughts of such beauty. Yet the guitar was still creative in its pacing and playful lines of notes as if creating a heavenly fantasy out of the bright greens and reds from the decorations themselves.
Harmonic couldn’t stop smiling seeing his father’s worry melt away, replaced with a smile of his own from the dominant voice of the instrument in his hooves in this musical interpenetration of a daydream.
Once finished, there was louder applause from before. Ponies knock on tables or stomped on the tiled floor before the bearded stallion could turn the page on the music stand.
The final movement started out as a kind of dance while still keeping onto that gentle warmth. Perhaps, the closest thing that came to Crescendo’s mind was like a kind of winter’s solace dance from Cermona. Where there was a lot of movement that twisted and jumped for warmth. Even the conversation with the orchestra from all violins, violas, cellos, basses and double basses were almost a convincing illusion for the Guitarist that he was taking part in a celebration that never ended.
Once again, for the moments where Crescendo had his solo, Whole Note’s cello was there to accompany the background of this spirited dance. Playing a whole-hearted song from a bygone age but still has the sense of a breathing tradition that is difficult to kill.
Yet, the concerto came to a close when both the music and the Instrument Maker took a bow. The only expression that Harmonic could read off his father’s face was a relief when he stepped off the platform and headed towards the table where the Royal Family was sitting at.
“That was quite lovely,” Celestia said as he sat down, leaning the neck of the guitar against the table.
“Oh thank you, Your Majesty,” Crescendo sighed in relief. “To tell you the truth, I was quite nervous being up there.”
“But you did have fun up there, didn’t you?” Twilight asked.
Before Harmonic’s father could say anything, his son spoke up, “And now, for our final performance for tonight will be a trio. For the piano, once will be played by Ms. Alto, myself for violin and Whole Note for cello as the three of us play for you a piece from the late Symphonic Melodies: Romance for Trio.”
The three musicians gathered at the center of the platform, with the mare behind the piano once more, and Harmonic pulling up a chair for his fiancé. The couple, once they were ready with their bows in position, exchanged a smile to the other before the Prince told the Pianist to start.
As first, the piano played the first few bars, Whole Note took a breath before he began to play out the melody. All the while, he looked upward at the Violinist, playing not so much for the ponies in the Ballroom as much as he was wooing his beloved. On that red cello, as bright as a Hearth's Warming flower, it sang out to him without ever speaking.
The Violinist, in turn, played out a poem of sound. Although as old as he and the Violin were, its strings spoke nothing but an ode to the other. Soon, both violin and cello couldn’t help but say their love without mentioning the word once. Yet, the sound of love itself from the two alone was all that was needed.
“What do you think?” Crescendo’s attention was turned towards Flurry’s.
“Over what?”
“Them,” she pointed at the couple, “I mean, with my Uncle and his special somepony.”
“Oh…” he turned back to the performance. “Look at him. In all my years of raising him, I’ve never seen him smile like that before. It’s quite rare you know.”
“You must be proud of him, right?”
“Between you and me,” he whispered back, “I still think that this arrangement he’s made is still too weird for me to fully grasp. Wait, hear me out. As much as part of me still doesn’t want to accept this, how can I deny something that would give him that makes him as happy and at peace like that? The colt I knew had grew up in a place of misery, so who am I to say where his happiness comes from? He’s a grown stallion now, and he’s free to do as he pleases. Yet, all I ask is to be sure he’s going to be with someone that will make him a better pony than I last saw him.”
“I think that’s what happening right now,” Flurry smiled. “I many not have mom’s ability is detecting love, but going off by the music alone, I think that this sort of love won’t do anything but grow.”
Harmonic’s father didn’t respond as the three of them played out the final notes.
_*_
How does one prepare themselves to die? What sort of preparation, requests, and wisdom does one do, ask, or share before they depart into a land where none return from? And who is the last pony you speak with before passing on?
These were the questions that the bearded stallion was asking himself the time for him to depart was approaching. Not to say that this was the most sobering hour of his life, but the father of the alicorn already knew who he wanted to spend his last moments with.
On the highest tower on Celestia’s balcony, where the snow and ice were cleared away was a table, a tea set, and two warm pillows. The dying pony’s request, underneath the frosty night and above the snowy landscape, Crescendo wished for only to be with his son and his violin to have tea for the last time. He even had brought up a particular brew in which was done in the way that he was familiar with. The Royal Kitchens put in the particular amounts of particular herbs that he used to make at home.
It wasn’t long until his son stepped into the icy air with his violin and bow in his aura.
“Evening,” his father said, lighting up his horn to pour the steamy liquid into their cups.
Harmonic nodded, “Hey Dad.”
“Have a seat,” he gestured over to the other pillow. “I think you and I should have a talk.”
His son obeyed and carefully placed the violin on the table.
“Here,” Crescendo levitated a blanket over him, “I figured that you may get chilly.” When Harmonic said nothing, his father tried to start up a conversation. “What a day, no?”
“Yeah,” the Prince muttered as he picked up his cup.
“But it was an interesting one,” the unicorn pointed out. “I mean, I’m nearly half a century into the future, you are adopted by Equestrian Royalty, and learned about your… love life and you were an excellent Violinist.”
“I know,” his son said softly.
There was a pause before his father changed the conversation a little. “Um… Script and his family showed me Color’s last painting.” This got Harmonic to look up, “It was the one where it was a family portrait of you, him, and Script before he married Page.”
“And…”
“And, I must say, that portrait was very powerful.”
“Color never finished it,” his son took a sip from his cup.
“Yet, even so, that portrait was the last nail in a sort of idea that I used to uphold.”
“And that being?”
“That a real family consists of a father and mother with their children, something that only a family structure like that could only work. Yet, even if I’ve never met your late spouse, I would have considered him an honorable father.”
“How so?”
“I would imagine that painting is something that would take time, and effort too to achieve such quality. With that painting, and considering that Script told me that he was on his deathbed, the last thing that was on his mind was you and your son. And if that painting was honest, I would have assumed that the three of you were quite the happy family, perhaps, happier than anyone I knew in the village.”
“That’s because we were,” his son said, putting down the cup. “Color died too soon. Yet in his time that we had raised our Script, as there were some complications as you might expect from raising another, younger pony, to this day, I’ve never regretted it because of all those small, unexpected joys from parenthood. And if Color would here, he would agree.”
Crescendo nodded, taking a few sips from his evening tea, he asked, “Harmonic, is there anything from me that you wanted to know about? Have there been any questions you’ve always wanted to ask from me? If so, I think this is the perfect time to do so.”
His alicorn son thought for a moment, “Just one, how did you and mom meet?”
A gulp later, the unicorn told him that, “To be honest, I never fully knew who Melody was until our wedding night. I was the son of an Instrument Maker and she was the daughter of a silversmith, so before, we didn’t even knew each other that much or even cared until my father found out that the family business was about to go under and needed the money. So, he and the silversmith arranged a deal for us to be married.
“I was against it at the start because I was only seventeen and her fifteen. So you could only imagine how terrified we were that we were getting married to a total stranger for financial reasons.”
“So…” Harmonic asked with caution, “I guess you didn’t really love mom, did you?”
“Was I in love with her like you are with Whole Note? No. But that didn’t mean that I hate her outright. Actually, after the wedding feast was over and we were tossed into a room, we both agreed that we should at least start out as friends. Over time, I learned a bit more about her like her interest in learning about every traditional song in the village, and I to make the instruments to accommodate that music.”
“In other words, you two were like friends who just happened to be married?”
His father nodded, “Exactly. We tried not to fight as often as some of the other unhappy couples. We did keep our distance, as well as trying to find some kind of common ground. So, we thought that the best way to do that is for us to try to have children.”
“So I guess this is where I come in.”
“Only several years later,” his father pointed out, picking up his teacup. “I can’t tell you how many times we have tried and failed. For a long time, we thought that one of us was infernal for some reason. We tried medicines for our doctor to picking up tricks from passing caravans. Yet, nothing worked. I remember times when your mother would get so depressed that she threatened that she would kill herself by drowning in the river. But once we found out that she was pregnant with you,” the bearded unicorn smiled, “we were so happy that we celebrated all night.”
“Now this part, I do know,” Harmonic smiled, “I remember mom used to tell me from here that the night she told you she was pregnant, you two did nothing but sing and play music for so long, that the neighbors banged on the front door to keep it down.”
Chuckling, the father replied, “But they only added the beat of our rejoicing.”
“It’s amazing that they tolerated us for so long, even before I was even born.”
“Ha! You should have been there when your grandfather had played a prank on the tailor! He moved every scrap of fabric into our workshop just to watch him get angry.”
“That’s horrible.”
“I know,” his father grinned, “I remembered him rolling on the floor when the tailor was tearing up his shop looking for the fabric.”
“Wow, we Trotivaries are awful.”
“But the town knows about our mischievous reputation of giving some offense to someone for generations, it all just depends on the pony is all. While each of our family is pretty much a wild card when it comes to upsetting everypony, like you being born an alicorn is no exception, we’re also known in the village for our music or making the instruments to make said music.”
“I suppose,” Harmonic took another sip of the tea.
There was another moment of silence between them. It was at this moment that Harmonic noticed something about his father as he asks, “Aren’t you cold?”
“I don’t think it will matter now,” the unicorn replied, “Since I’m feeling quite war-” Crescendo was cut off when he was engaged in a coughing fit. In which, much to his son’s horror was coughing out smoke.
“Dad! Are you alright?”
“Give me a minute,” he croaked as some more smoke exited his mouth. “Sorry,” the unicorn cleared his throat, “It’s apparent that my time is almost up.”
Harmonic rushed over to his father’s side, hugging him, “You even feel a little too warm.”
“Why do you think I’ve asked to meet out here for?” Crescendo whipped the tears from his eyes. “The heat is growing stronger for me. I apologize that you have to see me go like this.”
“But…” the Violinist shut his eyes tight, “I don’t want you to go.”
“Son,” his father said, “Look at me.” He did, trying his hardest to keep the tsunami of emotions back as much as he could. “You need to be strong for me, you hear? It doesn’t matter now if you’re adopted, you are a Trotivari, and now, more than ever, you need to be the stallion to uphold the family name. You need to move forward with no regrets, no remorseful tears, but you need to be strong for your family, and for Whole Note as well. He looks to you for guidance to become a better pony than before. You did this for Script, and you must do it again for all of your love ones. Can you be able to do that?”
“I promise Dad,” Harmonic whipped the tears from his eyes, and with contempt, smile added. “It’s just so hard that I’m losing you again.”
His father coughed but continued, “I’m never dead, my Instruments are what keep my legacy alive. Now, can I ask you something son?” he nodded, “Do you remember the lullaby that I first taught you on that violin?”
“How could I forget?”
“Play for me,” his father told him, “so at least the last sound I’ll hear is the sound of your violin.”
Harmonic’s horn glowed, levitating the instrument underneath his chin. The black chin-rest was cold to the touch; he ignored it while clenching the bow in his right hoof. “Dad,” he said, “There’s something I wanted to tell both you and mom years ago on that night.”
“What’s that?” his father asked as he coughed once more.
“Goodbye Dad,” his son finally told him, now tears breaking their barriers. “I love you both.”
Crescendo Trotivari smiled, “I know. Now, please play.”
Harmonic played for him the lullaby that he once practiced every single night, the same bittersweet tune that he had carried with him for decades. The melody was able to calm his father now he was not only coughing out smoke but slowly turned into a cloud of it. Yet, Harmonic continued on, through the frosty wind on his back and the inferno heat in front of him.
“Goodnight Harmonic,” his father whizzed as the smoke and fire engulfed him. “May your life be filled… with music.” And just like that, the bitter winds of winter scattered the smoke away until nothing remained, not even his beloved father.
Drawing out the last note of the lullaby, the Prince stood there in the Icy night. For the second time in his life, he saw one of his parents, his biological father, go up in smoke. But this time, there wasn’t out of fear, or horror, or even depression that tears were falling from the alicorn’s eyes. Rather, it was a sense of peace, as if everything has now just come to a balance. Whipping his eyes, Harmonic responded in a whisper, “Goodnight Dad, let the night sing you to your eternal sleep.”
“Harm?” a voice shattered the winter air, which nearly made Harmonic jump. He found his fiancé at the door. The mint green stallion cautiously approached him, “Is everything alright?”
Sighing, the Violinist lowered the violin onto the table before nuzzling him, “I think,” Harmonic started as he wrapped him in his wings, “That everything is going to get better from here.”
“So… did you get your wish?”
“Huh?”
“With bring your dad back for a day.”
The Prince nodded, “Yeah, I got my wish. So now, I have everything, and so much more.”
“More?” Note raised an eyebrow, “What could you have more of?”
Harmonic answered his question by kissing him. Quickly realizing, Note pulled away, his cheeks flushing, “You do realize how c-clichéd that was?”
“What? A cliché is called a cliché because it’s always true, no matter how many times you get sick of it.”
The Cellist nuzzled him, “You’re really weird… don’t ever change.”
Smirking, his fiancé replied, “So you wish it, so shall it be.”
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THAT WAS BEUTIFUL THANK YOU FOR MAKING THAT THANK YOU!
6458678 And thank you for making that cover, it really helped tied the story together.
also i just read 24,000 words in an hour i think i set a new record or something, lol
6460489 darn
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WHY ARE YOU SO GOOD AT RIPPING MY HEART OUT AND ATTACKING MY FEELS DIRECTLY?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!
*whimpering on the floor* HE'S MEAN!! NOPONY SHOULD BE ABLE TO ATTACK THE FEELS THAT WELL!!!! *bawls eyes out*
More amazing Harmonic goodness.
Beautiful job.
May your quill never run dry.
Thank you for this amazing story. I love stories like this one it always make me cry and that is what i want becouse my life is piece of fuckin bullshit and... I just need something like this... Thank you.
I just read them all. It can only be described as beautiful...and the ending... im crying like a waterfall while tipping this. We need more stories like this saga.
6895203 Did I mention that I did a spin-off story biased off of this one and another series? Although, I admit that before you jump into that, you should read the other series before attempting the one that has Harmonic in there because it will make a world of sense if you did.
6895203 Edit: Spin-off is a wrong word, more like a cross over.