> Harmony Redux
>  by errant
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Prologue
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“How in Celestia’s name did this happen?” Octavia asked, burying her face into her hooves as she sat on the cold stone floor of Ponyville’s small jail. Her mane, normally well-kept and elegant, was unkempt and erratic as it fell forward to conceal her expression from her companions.

“Well, first Vinyl dared you to do a dozen shots with her,” said one of the cramped cell’s other occupants, a mare and unicorn with a coat of green, tilting her head in thought as she reached back through the dim haze of alcohol-impaired memories. 

“That was a rhetorical question, Lyra,” Octavia protested as she feebly massaged her temples. 

“And then you each started to down as many hard ciders as you could after Vinyl said she was the better drinker,” continued the third mare in the cramped space, a beige earth pony with a tail and mane of curled blue and pink streaks that bounced with a jaunty spring as she moved her head. “You were both a good sixteen glasses in when you decided to start making out at the bar. You two actually started to get pretty heavy before the Guards showed up and arrested us for public intoxication and indecency. But I guess you technically won, since Vinyl is out cold,” she said, shrugging philosophically. 

Turning, Lyra gently poked the white-and-blue mass that vaguely resembled a pony lying on the floor and which comprised the fourth and final mare present. It snorted and began snoring in response to the prodding. “Yup, she’s still out. Bon-Bon’s right, Octy; you are officially a better drinker than Vinyl. Though don’t expect her to take it gracefully.”

Octavia stared, mouth agape. “How are you two so blasé about this? We are in prison on the day before Vinyl and I’s wedding!” she demanded. “This is a catastrophe,” she moaned as she cradled her head in her forehooves.

“Technically, this is jail. Prison is a lot more serious. And make that the day of your wedding,” Lyra pointed out as she gestured towards the barred window, through which the first tentative rays of dawn were leaking. “And we’re so blasé ‘cause, hey, it ain’t our once-in-a-lifetime special day getting royally bucked up.” 

“Lyra Heartstrings!” Bon-Bon exclaimed with a scowl directed towards the source of her ire. “I know you’re just trying to lighten the mood with sarcasm, but do us all a favor and don’t. Think of poor Octavia before you go running your mouth at a time like this.”

“You don’t normally mind my mouth—“ 

“Don’t even start with that,” Bon-Bon interrupted, rolling her eyes. 

Lyra sighed, her sides heaving before she laid a gentle forehoof on Octavia’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Octy. I’m sure everything’ll be ok.”

“Ok? Ok! How in the name of lunacy will any of this be ‘ok’?” Octavia demanded.

Lyra shrugged. “Well, at least it can’t get any worse.”  

> Chapter 1
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Octavia shifted uncomfortably on her hooves as she stood in the midst of the creative chaos of Carousel Boutique; innumerable scraps of fabric, half-finished dresses draped over their forms and countless drawn designs littered every available surface.  "How about this, darling?" Rarity asked as her telekinetic aura cinched around Octavia's waist, drawing the flowing dress adorning her into shape. "I think it looks splendid."

"Urk!" Octavia wheezed with creaking ribs. "Too . . . tight. Can't . . . breathe!" she managed despite struggling to draw in even a small breath. 

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," Rarity admonished around a mouthful of sewing pins gingerly clamped between her teeth. She trotted away, curled purple tail swaying, and began rummaging in a drawer of countless bits of fabric and bric-a-brac. "A-ha! Here it is; the last, perfect jewel to complete this masterwork. With this, you'll be the envy of any Canterlot socialite." She turned away from her search and looked back to take in her work. "Oh, my" she demurred as she took in the purplish tinge beginning to show through Octavia's grey coat. "Perhaps we overdid it just a tad on the waist; I suppose it can stand to be let out some, even though we'll sacrifice some of the proper contour for the trail." Her aura dimmed slightly and the fabric clamping over Octavia's lungs loosened, allowing her to suck in a gratefully generous gulp of air. 

"Who in Equestria were you measuring that for, a supermodel?" Octavia asked as she twisted her neck to examine the white dress with electric blue highlights draped over her. "There was no way I could have possibly fit into that without the lack of oxygen causing a stroke."

"Hmph," Rarity snorted. "My apologies; I am accustomed to working with Canterlot fashionistas and models who tend to have fair daintier physiques." 

Octavia's eyes narrowed. "Are you . . . calling me fat?" she asked.

"Hardly, darling. It's just that your earth pony heritage gives your muscles far more definition and makes your frame sturdier, especially around your flanks. I tried to compensate by narrowing the waist of your dress to avoid making it look like a tank, but that seems to have been poorly advised."

"Vinyl likes my flanks just fine," Octavia muttered. 

Rarity turned up her nose primly. "I'm sure I wouldn't know anything about that," she said. "I think I'm going to have to make some adjustments to this design in order to make it fit well without suffocating you. Would you mind coming back around in a few days so we can have another fitting?"

"Provided you promise not to break any of my ribs again, I'd be glad to," Octavia said as she stepped away from Rarity's work area. "And thank you once again for all your help with the dresses; I can never repay you for all this."

"Never mention it, my dear. Anything for a friend," Rarity said absently. The blue light of her magic played over Octavia's coat, leaving tingling sensations that prickled at her skin as the dress simply lifted itself off of her before floating across the Carousel Boutique to settle delicately and perfectly on an empty dress form. Rarity gave it a slight nudge to pull out a miniscule wrinkle before turning back to Octavia. "When are you bringing in Vinyl for another fitting?" she asked.

Octavia sighed and rubbed her face with a hoof. "Trying to get that mare to sit still is like herding cats with a water hose."

Rarity smirked a little before replying, "Well, if anypony can corral that miscreant it will be you, I suspect. If all else fails, just threaten to withhold certain, erm, 'activities,' if you take my meaning."

Octavia felt warmth bloom in her face as she averted her gaze. "I'll keep that in mind. See you in a few days, then?"

"I shall look forward to it." 





"So how's the music coming?" Vinyl asked as she trotted into Lyra's workroom, a sun-filled room strewn with sheet music and bits of paper all over the hardwood floor.

"How nice of you to knock, Vinyl. Do come in," Lyra answered without looking up from the composition that engrossed her attention. Vinyl magically gripped a stack of papers covering the room's only other chair and moved them to the nearby desk before plopping down in the vacated seat. "And please make yourself comfortable," Lyra said, again without raising her golden eyes from scanning the notes laid out in front of her in orderly rows.

Vinyl grinned, reclining easily in her seat. "Thanks.  What's Bon-Bon cooking? It smells delicious; I thought I was gonna drool myself to death when I came in the house." 

"She's testing out a new recipe for chocolate cake. It tastes as delicious as it smells," Lyra said. 

"Lucky you; you always get to taste Bon-Bon's treats."

Lyra's shoulders shook and she finally raised her eyes to meet Vinyl's. "We're still talking about food, right?" she asked.

"Sure thing, harpflank."

"Riiight," Lyra drawled. "Anyway, the music's going pretty well. I've never tried to compose something to go along with your electronic kind of stuff before, but I'm making some progress."

"Hey, Octy does a great job keeping up with my awesome beats on her cello. You telling me you can't do just as well as her?"

Lyra snorted. "Just because you've contaminated one proper musician with your static doesn't mean you're gonna get me as well."

"That's not the only thing I've contaminated Octy with," Vinyl said with a sly smile. 

Lyra’s mouth twitched at the corners, not quite hiding her amusement. "Um, I'm not sure that came out quite right, Vinyl," she said. “It’s not usually a good thing if you contaminate your fillyfriend.”

“It’s fine if you’re contaminating her with awesomeness,” Vinyl retorted. 

“Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night,” Lyra said, leaning back in her own chair and stretching. She yelped as several joints popped audibly. “Ugh, my back is killing me; I don’t think I’ve moved all day. What d’ya say we go down and bother Bon-Bon?”

“Sounds good to me,” Vinyl said as Lyra stood and arched her back, groaning in a mix of pain and relief as her muscles broke free of their stiffness. She trotted out of the room, following behind Lyra’s swishing tail, green shot through with white. Soft carpet muffled her hooves as she walked and she hardly noticed the familiar photographs adorning the hallway. Unearthly, delicious smells invaded her nose as they drew near the kitchen. When she finally turned the corner into Bon-Bon’s domain she had to swallow a mouthful of saliva her body produced in gleeful expectation of imminent snacks. 
Her eyes immediately settled on a bowl full of candy wrapped in yellow and blue. It sat as a lone island of order on the table, surrounded by used measuring cups, bowls thick with congealed icing and whisks dripping batter. “Bon-Bon, can I—“  

“Of course you can have one, Vinyl. That’s what they’re there for,” Bon-Bon answered from her seat at the table, a dozen open cookbooks spread around her.

A brief flash of magic unwrapped one of the candies and popped it into Vinyl’s waiting mouth. Her eyes closed as she chewed, savoring the sweet taste laced with chocolate. “Mmm,” she uttered around a mouthful of creamy confectionary before swallowing with a gulp. “That’s freaking amazing, Bonnie.” 

A blush spread across Bon-Bon’s face and she smiled gratefully. “Thanks, Vinyl. I’m glad somepony other than Lyra appreciates my talents.”

“Bonnie, Octy and I couldn’t be more grateful for your guys’ help. Without you two we’d be going nuts trying to find a caterer and musician.”

Lyra lightly shoved Vinyl’s shoulder. “Hey, don’t mention it. You guys are our friends.”

“Aw, horsefeathers. Don’t everypony go getting sappy on me,” Vinyl protested. “I was gonna ask Bon-Bon how the cake was coming, but if it tastes half as good as it smells there’ll be wars fought for a slice of it.”

“I’ve just about got the recipe figured out. I had to adapt three different batters and create a new flavor of icing, and it’s going to be a pain to make a full-sized wedding cake out of it, but it will be completely worth it,” Bon-Bon said with an idle wave of her hoof that encompassed the chaos strewn throughout the kitchen.

Vinyl blinked. “Oh. Um, are you sure you’re ok with doing all that?” she asked uncertainly. “I told you Octy and I would be ok with a plain white cake with vanilla icing, right? You don’t actually have to do all that.”

“Hahaha,” Bon-Bon laughed with a dismissive wave of her hoof. “I’m a professional confectioner; I actually enjoy the challenge of creating the perfectly customized wedding cake. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime event that deserves a special touch and I’m happy to provide it.”

“Thanks, Bonnie. I dunno—“ 

“Now if only somepony would give me the chance to make my own wedding cake,” Bon-Bon continued, swiveling her head to gaze meaningfully at Lyra.

Lyra looked around desperately, head swiveling until it landed on a clock. “Well, gee, look at the time: I’ve gotta get back to work on their wedding music. See you later, Bonnie,” she said as she hurriedly turned and whisked back down the hallway towards her work room. 

“Lyra Heartstrings! Don’t you run out on me,” Bon-Bon called after her retreating hoofsteps. “We’re not done talking about this!”

Vinyl laid her hoof over her face and sighed, muttering, “You two . . . I swear, I thought Octy and I were an odd pair.”

“What was that?” Bon-Bon asked, turning her head and cocking her ears. 

“Huh? Oh, it was nothing. Listen, I should really be going so I can leave you two alone to ‘work’,” Vinyl said. 

“Well, alright. You know you and Octavia are welcome anytime you care to stop over.” 

“Yeah, we know. Thanks, again,” Vinyl said as she turned and left the kitchen behind, walking the few paces to the front door and easing it open onto a spring day in Ponyville. She set out for home, her hooves drumming a staccato little rhythm on the dirt road as she trotted. Idyllic scenery passed her by as she waved at ponies she knew going about their business in the market, shaded by overgrown trees and light cloud cover. She inhaled deeply; the air smelled of rain and freshly grown flowers and she started humming a jaunty tune as she walked. Finally, her own two-story wooden home loomed into sight. The front door opened at her touch and she let herself in, calling out, “Hey, Octy! You home?” as she plodded into the living room and fell bodily onto the couch. 

“Yes, Vinyl, I’m back from Rarity’s. How are Lyra and Bon-Bon doing?” Octavia answered as she walked in from the kitchen. She sat down on the couch beside Vinyl, pulling her into a short embrace. 

“They’re fine, and they’re both almost done with their part of the wedding.” 

“Good,” Octavia said as she released Vinyl and leaned back more comfortably. “Of course, you know this only leaves one task left to complete,” she said meaningfully. 

“Right,” Vinyl sighed. “I guess we can’t put if off any longer.”

Octavia nodded in agreement. “It’s time . . . to invite our parents.”
> Chapter 2
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vinyl and Octavia sat in their kitchen, early morning sunlight filtering through the open window. The wooden table between them was strewn with scribbled-on bits of paper nestled among the dirty bowls and silverware left over from their breakfast.

The scratching of quills filled the silence, each mare focused on their own scribing. Vinyl glared down at her own sheet of stationary as her writing implement, controlled by her magical grasp, danced across the page, leaving behind lines of fresh ink. Finally, it came to the bottom of the page and she signed her name with a graceful flourish. “There,” she sighed as the quill settled down on the table. “That’s it for my letter. How’s yours coming, Octy?”

Octavia’s writing paused, quill grasped uncertainly in her hoof. She glanced across the table, scowling at Vinyl’s completed missive while her own was barely half-written. “It’s getting there,” she replied before lowering her gaze and resuming writing. 

“Sorry,” Vinyl said, reclining in her chair. “I forgot it takes you a little longer to write stuff by hoof.” She smiled minutely as Octavia muttered quietly, her inelegant appendage smearing a word. “I told you I’d help you if you wanted.”

“No thank you, dear,” Octavia answered absently, dipping her quill back in the inkpot. “I can manage this perfectly fine.” 

“If you’re sure,” Vinyl replied easily. She slipped her hooves behind her neck, supporting her head as she leaned back and settled more comfortably into her chair. 

Octavia continued to scratch at the paper, eventually glancing up to see Vinyl staring at her with a faint smile playing at her lips.  “Just what, pray tell, is so amusing?” she demanded. 

“You’re cute when you’re concentrating,” Vinyl said, her smile widening. “Well, cuter than usual anyway.”

Octavia couldn’t help the small grin that blossomed on her own face. Signing her letter with a slightly-marred signature, Octavia laid down her own quill. She stretched, tensing her back and shoulders against the strain of sitting hunched over. “Well,” she said, “I have my letter to my parents written. How about you?”

“Yeah, it’s done,” Vinyl said.

“Well, what did you tell them?” Octavia asked.

“I told ‘em I’m marrying the filly I’ve been with for the last year or so and they should haul flank to Ponyville for the wedding,” Vinyl answered. 

“That’s . . . essentially what I told my family as well,” Octavia said. “Though with somewhat more sophisticated language.”

Vinyl shrugged, rolling her shoulders with an exaggerated motion. “I guess that’s all of that, then. We’ll mail the letters and invitations later today and wait for everypony to show up.” 

Octavia nodded. “Yes, I suppose so. We’ve already prepared the spare bedrooms for our respective families and the preparations are coming along nicely. There’s not much to do now but wait for the big day.”

“I bet I could think of a few other things we could do,” Vinyl said with a sly grin. 

“Vinyl Scratch, you are so predictable,” Octavia said with a shake of her head. “But I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

“You must not mind it too much if you’re marrying it,” Vinyl replied with a playful wink. 

“That’s true,” Octavia said as she slid out of her seat, landing on her hooves and making for the door.

“Hey, where the heck are you going?” Vinyl called after her. 

“To lay down on the couch, if you care to join me,” Octavia’s voice floated back. 

“But“—Vinyl glanced at the dirtied bowls strewn across the table—“There are still dirty dishes.”

“I don’t feel like dealing with them at the moment. I feel like laying on the couch with my mare and being lazy,” Octavia replied. 

Vinyl paused, lips pursed in thought, before shrugging philosophically. “Works for me,” she muttered as she followed after Octavia, settling down on the couch so that she was cradled by her forelegs.  She nickered quietly as Octavia’s hoof ran through her vibrant mane, reveling in the soft touch. Closing her eyes with a contended sigh, she said, “I just realized something, Octy.” 

“What’s that?” Octavia asked quietly. 

“I really don’t know anything about your family,” Vinyl answered. “I mean, I know your mom and dad own a music store in Manehatten, but that’s it.”

Chuckling, Octavia continued to stroke her fiancée’s hair. “There’s not much more to tell, I’m afraid. But I don’t really know anything about your mother and father either.” 

“They’re . . . boring,” Vinyl murmured. “I love them, obviously, but my dad’s a secretary in the Bureau of Equestrian Development and my mom’s an accountant. Nothing really interesting.”

“Really?” Octavia asked incredulously. “I find it hard to believe that a bureaucrat and an accountant produced the wild and untamed DJ who stole my heart.”

“Hey, I’m not that wild anymore,” Vinyl protested. “I started to calm down before I met you, and you’ve done a good job of taming me the rest of the way.”

“I know, love. I was just teasing you,” Octavia said. 

Vinyl squirmed slightly, maneuvering to plant a kiss on the side of Octavia’s cheek. “Heh, I know. But your parents . . . they already knew about us, right?” she asked. 

“Of course,” Octavia answered, face crinkling in confusion. “I keep in touch with my family by letter and phone. They know all about you.”

Vinyl looked away uncertainly. “Good. It’s just . . . I haven’t really told my parents that much about you. All they really know is that I’ve been dating and living with a filly from Canterlot, and that she’s a cellist.” 

“What? Are you worried your mother and father might not approve of me?” Octavia asked, stroking Vinyl’s cheek. 

“No! No, nothing like that,” Vinyl retorted, shaking her head. “In fact, they’re probably glad I’m with somepony respectable.”
“So what are you worried about, then?” Octavia queried. 

“Well,” Vinyl said slowly, “I guess I’m kind of nervous about letting my parents meet the filly I’m marrying. I’m just worried it’ll be awkward or you won’t get along or something stupid like that.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry. I’m sure your parents are just happy that you’re happy,” Octavia said, snuggling deeper into the soft cushions and tightening her forelegs around Vinyl. “You’re worrying over nothing, I promise you.” 

“Thanks, Octy,” Vinyl said as she nuzzled Octavia’s face. “I’m sure I am. I just don’t want anything to mess this up for us.” 

“I understand completely,” Octavia said. “But I wouldn’t be too concerned. Between our family and friends, we are in good hooves.” 

“Well, I’m sure in good hooves right now,” Vinyl said as she settled more comfortably against Octavia. Her eyes closed again, fluttering, as Octavia’s hoof began to toy with her mane once again. 





An earth pony with a light grey coat stood behind the counter of a dusty music shop in Manehatten, strewn with receipts and invoices, idly flicking through the morning’s mail. Running through the usual litany of bills, he snorted and shook his head, causing his grey-streaked-with-white mane to flutter slightly. One particular letter caught his eye, distinctive with its Ponyville return address. Hurriedly, he tore it open with his teeth and extracted a folded piece of paper. A smaller bit of cardstock fell out and fluttered to the counter, demanding his attention with its silver embossing and elegant calligraphy. Curious, his eyes roved over it. 

You are cordially invited to witness the marriage of Octavia Philharmonica and Vinyl Scratch on the 27th day of the 6th month of the Celestial calendar. The ceremony will be held at Town Hall in Ponyville. Please RSVP. 

His breath caught in his throat and his heart seized; he called out into the rows of albums and displays, yelling, “Melody! Come over here!” 

Near the front of the store, a beige-toned pegasus hovered slightly off the floor, using her wings to lightly dust the higher displays. The slight updraft rustled her blonde mane, sending it weaving about her head. Hearing her husband’s call, she landed immediately and trotted back to the counter where she found him avidly scanning a letter.  “What is it, Silver?” she asked. Wordlessly, he pointed a hoof at an elegant-looking invitation lying on the countertop. Leaning over, she pulled it towards herself to read. “Oh, my,” she whispered, looking up at Silver as he sat down the letter. “I can’t decide if I should be happy,” she began, heart fluttering with nervous expectancy. 

“Or be worried for our little filly,” Silver finished for her. Melody nodded and he continued, “I mean, we haven’t even met this other mare. All we know is what Octavia’s told us about her. What if she . . .” he trailed off. 

Melody laid a hoof gently on one of Silver’s own, saying, “I know that we don’t know her. But our daughter does, and if she’s chosen this mare as the one who makes her happy then I think we should trust her.” 

Silver sighed, inclining his head in acceptance. “I know, I know. It’s just . . . parents are supposed to worry about their foals, you know?”

“Of course,” Melody agreed. “But we didn’t raise a fool for a foal. Octavia can take care of herself and make her own decisions.” 

“Right, right,” Silver agreed absently. “I guess we’ll be meeting her for the first time.” 

“Vinyl, you mean?” she asked. 

“Yeah. I wonder what she’s like,” Silver pondered aloud. 

“Hm. Well, we’ve seen pictures of her. That hair of hers makes her look so wild, and apparently she likes the party scene a great deal.” She rubbed a hoof against her chin in thought. “I bet she lives up to the look.”

“What, like some kind of party animal?” Silver asked incredulously. 

“Well, you never know,” Melody defended. 

Sighing, Silver folded the letter and invitation back into the envelope. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”





In the twilit streets of Fillydelphia, a stallion trotted down the mostly-empty streets. The shadows played against his coat, casting its deep blue into an even darker shade. His hoofsteps passed through a progressively more residential district, the small houses divided by narrow strips of grass. Furtive bits of light escaped from drawn curtains, forming pools on the sidewalk that he briefly passed through. 

Finally, he turned up one short walkway similar to its neighbors, trodding on the wooden porch with hollow thuds. Gratefully, he craned his head and clamped his teeth around a key dangling from his neck. It slid into the doorknob, turning smoothly with a twist of his neck. He stepped into the small foyer and into a short hallway hung with photographs of himself, a yellow coated mare and a smiling white filly with a shockingly blue mane that hung in spikes around her face, framing ruby eyes. 

His steps carried him into the comfortably furnished living room where the mare from the photographs reclined on a pastel blue sofa that offset the delicate yellow walls. The couch, a small recliner and a low coffee table crowded near a television set which was itself adorned with more photos and mementos. “How was your day, Radiant?” he asked as he leaned over the back of the couch to nuzzle the side of the mare’s face, ruffling her pale orange mane. 

“Huh?” she asked, startled. “Oh, Cobalt, it’s you. I didn’t hear you come in,” she said, returning the gesture. 

“Is everything alright?” he asked, noting the letter spread open on the table and his wife’s unusual introspection; she normally heard him s soon as he stepped on the porch. 

“I’m perfectly fine,” she said with a smile. “I’ve just had some wonderful news.” 

Cobalt frowned, trying to think of any news she could have been expecting. A few seconds passed before he shrugged, saying, “Alright, you got me. What’s the news?” 

“Our little Vinyl is getting married! Isn’t it fantastic?” she practically squealed, clopping her hooves in excitement. “I can hardly wait!” 

“Married?” Cobalt asked, drawing the word out, testing it like an unfamiliar concept. “Vinyl is getting . . . married?” he finally managed. 

“Mhm,” Radiant purred. “To that dreamy filly she met in Canterlot. Oh, it's so romantic. I wonder if they've thought of adopting a foal of their own.” 

“I . . . I think that’s the least of our worries, honey,” Cobalt said, rubbing his hooves together in concern. “We don’t even know this ‘Octavia.’ How do we know she’ll be good for Vinyl?” 

Radiant tittered, hiding her laughter behind her hooves. “Oh, Cobalt, that’s just your paternal instincts talking. Vinyl and her fillyfriend have been together for over a year now and they’ve been living together in Ponyville for quite a while. From Vinyl’s letters, she sounds perfectly marvelous.” 

“B-but it just seems so sudden,” he objected plaintively. 

“Don’t be silly, dear. We hardly knew each other for six months before we were married.” 

“Well, yes, we were. But still . . . “ Cobalt trailed off. 

Radiant shook her head, mane lightly fluttering. “We need to trust Vinyl on this. It’s her decision, after all.” 

Sighing, Cobalt nodded his head in agreement. “So, when is it?” 

“Later this week in Ponyville. We’d better start packing.”





“This is where you’ll be sleeping. I hope it’s ok,” Vinyl said as she pushed open a door, revealing a small room furnished with a bed and a dresser. 

“It’s perfectly fine, sweetie,” Radiant said as she stepped inside and set down her bags. “After that long train ride I’m just grateful to be here.” 

“Yeah,” Cobalt chimed in from behind her. “Ponyville’s pretty far from big-city Canterlot, especially for a . . . a DJ, right, Vinyl?” 

“Yup; DJ PON-3, that's me,” Vinyl said with a cocky tilt of the head. 

“A long way for a DJ and a high-class cellist,” her father continued. 

“That . . . didn’t really work out well. For either of us,” Vinyl answered, looking away and pawing the ground. “But we’re happy here, so everything’s ok!” she said, perking back up. 

“Uh-huh,” Cobalt grunted noncommittally. 

“Well, where’s this filly of yours?” Radiant asked cheerfully, shooting a glance at her husband. “We’ve been dying to meet her.” 

“Oh, she’ll be back soon. Her mom and dad are coming from Manehatten and their train was about fifteen minutes behind yours.”

“So what’s she like?” Cobalt asked, a hint of gruffness creeping into his voice. 

“Huh? Octy, you mean?” Vinyl asked.

“I mean Octavia, the mare that you’re marrying!” he answered. 

“Cobalt, honey, there’s no need to talk to Vinyl like that,” Radiant gently chastised. “But we would appreciate it if you would tell us a little bit more about her.” 

“A-alright,” Vinyl said with an unsure glance at her father. “She’s really smart and nice and she plays the cello really well.” 

An awkward pause filled the space between them as Vinyl trailed off. “Um,” her mother piped up, “we were hoping for a little . . . more detail, maybe.” 

“Oh, right. Well, she was born and grew up in Canterlot. She studied music and she played with an ensemble that performed at a lot of fancy parties and stuff. She pretends to hate my music but I think she secretly likes it. She’s sort of stuffy and uptight when she forgets to be fun.” Vinyl paused to gather her thoughts, chewing her lip in contemplation before her eyes lit up in inspiration. “And she does this thing with her tongue—“ 

“Ok, darling, that’s lovely,” Radiant cut her off quickly. “She sounds very nice.” 

“Yeah, she’s pretty cool,” Vinyl agreed with a wide grin. 

“Just how long have you been dating her? Out of pure curiosity,” Cobalt asked. 

“About a year, I think,” Vinyl answered. “We’ve been living together for most of that, too.” 

“And you get along well, right? No big arguments or anything?” he pressed.

Vinyl’s face creased in confusion. “We’ve had a few fights, mostly when we were thinking of moving here. But we’ve worked ‘em all out.” 

“Have you thought about pre-marriage counseling?” he asked.

“Cobalt!” Radiant cried. “What in Equestria has gotten into you?” she demanded. 

“What?” he said defensively. “I just still think that this is very sudden.” 

“We talked about this already, Cobalt,” Radiant said. “We have to trust our daughter’s judgment, and we are the last ponies to complain about a sudden romance.” 

“It’s ok, mom,” Vinyl interrupted. “I know it’s sudden, but Octy and I have been through more together than most ponies who have been together for years. And anyways, you and dad knew each other for, like, a few months before you got married. Did you guys get counseling?”

“Well, no,” Cobalt began. “We didn’t. But still, just—“ 

“Dad,” Vinyl said softly as she laid a hoof on his shoulder. “I know you’re just worried about me. But trust me on this one; this isn’t some stupid idea we came up with last week.” 

“I know, honey,” Cobalt murmured gruffly as he pulled Vinyl into an embrace. “Your mother told me that we should trust you too, but it’s hard for a dad.”

“I’m sure it is,” Vinyl said as she broke their embrace. “Just wait till you meet her before you start making judgments, alright?” 

“I’ll try my best,” he promised. “B—“ The faint sound of a door opening and quietly chattering voices interrupted him before he could say anything else, capturing everypony’s attention. 

“Vinyl? Are you here?” Octavia’s familiar voice called, tinged with its slight Canterlotian accent. 

“Yeah, Octy; I’m showing my mom and dad their room,” Vinyl called back. 

“Well, hurry up a little. My parents are here as well and we should make introductions,” Octavia answered. 

“We’re coming,” Vinyl yelled back. Turning to her parents, she said, “C’mon and meet my fiancée. You’re gonna love her.” 

“Lead the way, dear,” Radiant said, following after Vinyl with her husband as they stepped down the stairs. After a few hoofsteps they came to a halt partway down the staircase, Radiant and Cobalt looking past their daughter at a trio of unfamiliar ponies who were similarly looking up at them. A mare, a grey earth pony with a mane like flowing ink, stood preeminent among them. A pink bowtie adorned her neck, lending her a dash of sophistication that set her slightly apart from the lighter grey earth pony and beige pegasus shifting uncertainly behind her. “She really does look high class,” she whispered to her husband. 

“Vinyl, why don’t you introduce your parents first,” Octavia offered, waving a hoof at the three ponies paused on the stairs. 

“Um, sure,” Vinyl said, twisting awkwardly to allow a clearer view of the ponies behind her. “Everypony, this is my dad, Cobalt,” she said, gesturing at her father. “And my mom, Radiant.” They each waved a hoof in greeting as their name was announced. 

“I’m pleased to meet you all,” Octavia said with a subtle curtsey. “Why don’t you come the rest of the way down so that I can introduce my family?” 

“Oh, right. I guess we didn’t have to stand on the stairs,” Vinyl said sheepishly, trotting the rest of the way down the steps. 

“Just come on, you silly filly,” Octavia said with a faint smile. “This is my mother, Melody, and my father, Silver Strings. They’ve just arrived from Manehatten. I’ve promised them lunch, so we can all eat and get to know each other.” 

A gurgling noise announced Vinyl’s joy at the prospect of food. “Yay, lunch!” she exclaimed, a happy grin stretching across her face as she trotted into the dining room.

“We’re very grateful for the hospitality, Ms. Philharmonica,” Cobalt said, turning to Octavia instead of following his daughter. “We’d be happy to accept your offer, if it's no inconvenience.” 

" 'If it's no inconvenience,' huh?" Radiant prodded her husband. "Weren't you the one who threatened to start eating the upholstery on the train if you didn't get something to eat soon?"

"I'm just trying to have good manners!" Cobalt objected. 

“Um,” Octavia paused, taken aback by Vinyl’s father’s outburst. “It's no burden at all. Right this way, everypony," she said as she turned and led the way into the dining room, passing through into the connected kitchen as Vinyl's parents took their seats at the table with their daughter.

“Octy, do you need help carrying stuff in?” Vinyl called out.

“No, dear; I’ve got it well in hoof,” Octavia said as she emerged from the kitchen. A serving tray loaded with plates of salad balancing expertly on her back was quickly shifted to the middle of the table and she took her seat. “I hope everypony is fine with a simple salad for lunch.” 

“I don’t even care,” Vinyl said as she poured a pitcher of creamy dressing over her salad. “I’m so hungry I could eat a hay bale.” 

“Don’t,” Octavia warned. “You’ll make yourself sick. Again.” 

“This is great,” Cobalt exclaimed around a mouthful of leafy greens. "Vinyl's got her dad's appetite, so it must be nice for her to be marrying somepony who can make such delicious food."

"Are you calling me fat?" Vinyl demanded indignantly, magically-gripped fork pausing above a plate loaded with a serving twice as large as anypony else's.

“Thank . . . you,” Octavia said with a glance at Vinyl. “It’s really nothing, I assure you.” 

“Oh, my,” Radiant tittered to Octavia’s mother, Melody. “I can’t imagine what it’s like to have such a gifted and modest and daughter.” 

“Hey!” Vinyl objected around a mouthful of salad. 

“You’re not exactly modest, dear,” Radiant replied with an apologetic smile.

“I’m plenty modest,” Vinyl muttered. “I’m the most modest pony in Equestria. Aren’t I, Octy?” 

“Rather far from it, actually,” Octavia answered nonchalantly. 

"Aw, horsefeathers," Vinyl protested, swallowing another mouthful of fresh greens. "What is this, national pick-on-Vinyl day?" 

"That's every day," Octavia, Cobalt and Radiant said in unison. They shared startled glances for a heartbeat before dissolving into raucous laughter that echoed through the room. 

"Oh, Celestia help me," Vinyl begged as her marefriend and parents laughed helplessly at her expense, clutching their sides and gasping for breath. "Is it too late to call off the wedding?"

> Chapter 3
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"So that's when we decided we were going to have to move away from Canterlot," Octavia explained to her rapt audience, Vinyl nestled beside her on the couch. "We didn't have enough money to survive there after I lost all my ensemble and orchestral work and Vinyl wasn't able to find employment after the fire. Things became rather uncomfortable for us." 

"It sucked,” Vinyl added flatly, memories of weeks of cheap oats making her almost gag from memory alone.

"Well, to put it crassly, yes. It sucked," Octavia agreed. Vinyl’s analysis was crude and succinct, but undeniably accurate. 

"Just how bad did things get for you two?" Radiant asked from her spot on the loveseat, perturbed by the mental image of her daughter busking for bits in the street.

"They were pretty bad," Vinyl admitted uncomfortably, eyes dwelling anywhere but on her parents. 

"How bad is 'pretty bad?' “ Cobalt demanded. He knew a headache was coming on, created by retroactive worry. 

Octavia stalled an answer, torn between flat truth or a comforting lie. She didn’t want her fiancé’s parents to worry, especially over something in the past. But she still owed them the truth. After a few seconds of serious thought, she realized she couldn’t come up with a decent answer. Fortunately, Vinyl took matters into her own hooves. "We couldn't even afford to buy food anymore," she blithely admitted. "We were a week or two from getting kicked out of our apartment." 

"Oh, Celestia and Luna," Cobalt groused, rubbing a hoof across his creased face. "Why didn't you just ask us for help?" he asked, voice pained. "You know your mother and I would have if you’d just asked us, don’t you?”

"I know," Vinyl softly agreed. "That's why I didn't tell you. I said when I left that I'd make it on my own. Or not. Either way, I wouldn't go crawling back home with my tail between my legs." Even as she said it, she knew her pride was a terrible reason to suffer, but she also knew she couldn’t have chosen any other way. That door had closed years ago.

Cobalt opened his mouth, then closed it for lack of anything to say. Leaden silence stretched out taut between Vinyl and her parents, hanging like a heavy shroud. 

Silver Strings cleared his throat, loud and grating in the quiet. "Octavia, honey, you have to know that we’re wondering the same thing. Why didn't you tell us how much trouble you were in?" he asked. If nothing else, he was just grateful to hear something in that room.

"I —" Octavia began before faltering. Swallowing a cold lump of hesitation in her throat, she tried again. "I was ashamed," she practically whispered. "I didn't want you to know. And you and mom have so much tied up in the store. I couldn't ask you for anything." 

"You know we would have found a way to help you, no matter what," Melody assured Octavia, wrapping a foreleg tightly around her husband. It was either that or nurture her daughter to death in front of everypony.

"I just . . . couldn't," Octavia said lamely. "You were both so proud when I started playing with orchestras and my ensemble. You gave up so much to make sure I had music teachers as a little filly and to make sure I got into the Canterlot Academy of Music." Blindly, she reached out a hoof to lay on Vinyl's side, drawing on her warmth and gentle heartbeat. "I couldn't let you know I failed after all of that," she finally admitted, screwing her eyes shut. She choked back small whimpers as Vinyl lightly stroked her mane. 

Her eyes shot open in surprise as weight and warmth engulfed her, her vision blurred by fields of color the same hues as her parents’ coats. "Oh, baby, don't ever think you failed us," her mother cooed to her. 

"We couldn't be prouder of our daughter," her father agreed, his grip tight around her. 

A choked gasp was all that escaped her as she buried herself in her parent's acceptance. Vinyl smiled softly as she pulled herself back from their moment; she had plenty of time to spend with Octavia. Her parents deserved their chance as well. 

“Vinyl, honey,” Cobalt almost whispered from the loveseat beside his wife, “C’mere.” 

Warmth bubbling in her chest, Vinyl softly slid off the couch and folded into her father’s outstretched forelegs. Wordlessly, Radiant added herself to their embrace. “Thanks, guys,” Vinyl finally murmured. “You’re the best mom and dad I could ever have.” 

“Oh, my,” Radiant softly said with mock amazement. “Is our little Vinyl being sentimental? This Octavia must be a good influence on you.” 

“Celestia knows you needed one,” Cobalt added, struggling to keep a straight face as he ruffled her unruly mane. 

“Daaad,” Vinyl protested, worming free of his grip. “What the hay’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you’re a silly filly, and we love you,” Radiant added, pecking Vinyl on the cheek. 

A slightly strangled laugh in a familiar Canterlot accent from behind her reached Vinyl’s ears, painting her cheeks red with embarrassment. “Mom, are you trying to make me look like a foal in front of my fiancée?” she demanded. 

“You do that quite well on your own, love,” Octavia brightly chimed in.

“Celestia’s own truth,” Cobalt agreed, nodding sagely. 

“Why the hay does everyone have to pick on me?” Vinyl demanded indignantly, casting a look full of theatrical betrayal back at Octavia. “I thought you loved me, Octy? Could love be so cruel to me?” 

“Yes. Yes, it could,” Octavia agreed. 

Vinyl hung her head in defeat, letting out a sigh of remorse. “What did I ever do to deserve this?” 





“Vinyl?” Octavia asked the mare sprawled out beside her on their bed. 

“What’s up, Octy?” Vinyl answered, turning her head so that her ruby eyes, glinting softly with moonlight, peered back at Octavia.

“I think our parents’ introductions went well, all things considered. Don’t you?” 

“Well, neither of us got threatened with being disowned or being written out of the will, so I guess it went alright,” Vinyl agreed. It had been sappy as hay, too, but that was probably unavoidable. 

Octavia snorted softly. “I think you’ve been watching too many soap operas again,” she chastised. “That kind of nonsense doesn’t happen in real life.” 

“Speak for yourself, Octy,” Vinyl muttered. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Octavia asked, blinking in surprise. 

“Let’s just say that my parents and I’ve had some problems,” Vinyl admitted uncertainly. “We put most of it behind us before I ever met you, but I still wasn’t completely sure if my mom and dad would be here.” It seemed an awkward topic to bring up, but she supposed the subject was inevitable. 

Octavia gaped at Vinyl, trying to understand. “But . . . your parents seem like such nice ponies and it’s obvious that you love each other. What in Equestria happened that would make you worry like that?” 

A long sigh escaped Vinyl as she considered, twiddling her hooves in absent thought. “It happened when I moved away from home. I worked as a DJ for a year or two in Fillydelphia and I got pretty popular. I wanted to go to Canterlot to see if I could make it big there. My mom and dad, though . . .” Vinyl trailed off, heaving another sigh. She really didn’t want to talk about this. There were better things to do in a bedroom with her special somepony, but they would have to wait. “They said they didn’t mind me being a foal and playing at being a DJ in Fillydelphia, but they didn’t want me to go anywhere else. They wanted me to go to school and become a music teacher. Something safe and stable and boring. They said I was guaranteed to fail if I tried to chase my ‘stupid dream.’ ” 

Vinyl trailed off into silence, awareness turned towards the past. The emptiness stretched on long enough for Octavia to become anxious and she lightly pressed a hoof to Vinyl’s cheek, recalling her to the present. “Vinyl?“ she quietly prodded. 

Vinyl shook her head in defeat. “I was so mad. The next day I just left Fillydelphia. Took all my stuff and went. I left my parents a note. Told ‘em I’d send them a letter when I got settled in so they’d know I was alive. That was all I said to them for almost four years.”

“But your parents are here now, and your relationship hardly seems strained,” Octavia pointed out. “Surely you must have made things right at some point.” If Vinyl was still estranged from her parents, it was a very friendly estrangement from the looks of things.

“I did eventually get back in touch with them,” Vinyl agreed. “After I was successful and making good money. After they couldn’t say I was wasting my life anymore. We just kind of forgot about everything that happened and moved on. Still, I don’t think things were ever completely the same between us. I guess I was afraid they wouldn’t show up out of spite or something. I didn’t actually think they’d do that, but still . . . “ 

“Vinyl,” Octavia began, shifting position so she could lay her head on Vinyl’s chest. “I may not know your family or your past like you do, but I don’t think that the ponies I met here today would be capable of being so cruel to their daughter.” She paused uncertainly, then continued with a soft smile. “At the very least, I don’t believe that they can be all that bad if they produced a good pony like you.” 

“Heh. Thanks, Octy,” Vinyl said sheepishly, a hint of a blush creeping up her cheeks. “I dunno why I’m being such an idiot about this. Like I said, my family and I put all that behind us before I even met you. It’s not like it’s a big deal or something.” 

“Well, you may be a silly filly, but you’re my silly filly,” Octavia purred silkily. “But, I have to ask: why didn’t you tell me that you were worrying about this before now?” 

Vinyl snorted. “Because I knew that I was worrying over nothing. Not that that stopped me from worrying anyway.” She shook her head in bemusement. “I guess I just didn’t wanna bother you with something so silly when there are more important things to worry about.” 

“Vinyl Scratch,” Octavia said, emphasizing her lover’s full name in her seriousness, “Did we not agree to share our feelings with each other rather than hiding them? That includes silly feelings, too.” 

“Yeah,” Vinyl sheepishly admitted. “Yeah, we did. Sorry, Octy. It wasn’t like this was something I meant to try and keep from you. I just didn’t wanna let myself act like I was actually worried about something I knew I shouldn’t be.” 

“You’re forgiven, love. It’s not as if I was angry.  I was merely reminding you that, with our wedding looming, we should be prioritizing our communication.” 

“Well,” Vinyl said with a devilish grin creeping across her muzzle, “there is something else I’ve been meaning to tell you all day. I kinda forgot with all the other stuff going on.” 

“What is it, V—“Octavia began before falling silent as Vinyl’s warm lips closed over hers. 

“I love you, Octy,” Vinyl whispered, sultry heat cracking her voice as she finally released Octavia from her passion. “More than anything.” 

“Oh . . . well,” Octavia panted, “That wasn’t necessarily what I had in mind, but still quite satisfactory.”

“Fist I get picked on all day, and now I’m just ‘satisfactory,’ “Vinyl sighed.  “I’m gonna develop an inadequacy complex or something.” 

“Vinyl, that horn-enlargement infomercial on television last night is the only reason that you know what an ‘inadequacy complex’ even is,” Octavia said flatly. She could remember that Vinyl had seemed quite engrossed by its promises to increase horn length and girth, despite the obvious snake oil. 

“See!” Vinyl cried in faux dismay. “You’re doing it again! You’re making me feel inadequate!” 

“Oh, shush,” Octavia said. “There’s nothing inadequate about either you or your horn.” Truthfully, Vinyl was generally quite satisfying in every way that mattered. Plus, a bigger horn wouldn’t help any of the other areas, like doing dishes properly. 

“Well, good. I’m glad to hear it,” Vinyl said. The reassurance helped her ego sting a little bit less, at least.

“But Lyra’s is still bigger,” Octavia replied cheekily, helpless to resist poking fun at what she knew now was a sore spot. 

“Octyyy!” 


> Chapter 4
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

 “Alright, Lyra. Listen. When you’re making a cake, you have to mix the batter properly,” Bon Bon said as she took the spoon away from the confectionarily-challenged Lyra. “You’ve got to make wide, scooping motions, not stab at it. You’re being too rough.” 

“That’s not what you said earlier,” Lyra said, flicking Bon Bon’s flank smartly with her tail. 

“Eep!” Bon Bon exclaimed, blushing hotly at the sudden intimacy. “Stop that!” 

“Oh c’mon, sweetie drops; you know you like it,” Lyra cooed, nuzzling the side of Bon Bon’s heated face.

Bon Bon coughed delicately. “Be that as it may, we need to focus on making this cake. If we play around too much, the batter won’t be suitably thick and creamy.”

“Can’t have that,” Lyra snickered. “I’m sure Vinyl and Octavia both want it thick and creamy.” 

“Lyra Heartstrings!” Bon Bon yelped, scandalized by her partner’s perversion even though she should be well accustomed to it and never mind that she’d thought the same thing. “What in Equestria is wrong with you? Don’t you have any respect for our friends?” 

“Uh . . . sorry,” Lyra managed to choke out around her laughter. 

“Good,” Bon Bon said firmly as she turned her attention to stirring the batter properly. “Besides,” she mused aloud, “if they liked it thick and creamy I doubt they’d be marrying each other. Stallions tend to be better at providing that than mares.” 





Plucking strings filled the house with a soft melody as Lyra focused on her composition for Vinyl and Octavia’s wedding. It was supposed to be the tune that played while the bride and/or brides walked in and it obviously needed to incorporate something of both mares. The problem was that their personalities were so far apart that it was difficult to musically represent them both.  What she had so far seemed to reflect Octavia well; it was quiet and dignified with just a hint of playfulness to it. But, it was missing something. It lacked any of Vinyl’s energy or forthrightness, and without it the piece seemed—

“That is boring as hay,” Bon Bon remarked as she peeked her head into Lyra’s musical workroom, wrinkling her mouth in partly-feigned disapproval of the lacking notes flowing from within. “Are you trying to put everypony at the wedding to sleep?”

“Haha, candyflank,” Lyra said. “You’re a real Frédéric Clopin, aren’tcha?” 

“No, but I do deal with a dull and uninteresting pony every day.” 

“Aw, Bonnie, don’t talk about yourself like that,” Lyra retorted with a grin, plucking a few errant notes. 

Bon Bon snorted, unimpressed by Lyra’s wit. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, you oversized mint.” 

“You wish I tasked like a mint,” Lyra said. “And there’s normally other reasons that I sleep well, anyway,” she continued, wiggling her eyebrows in what was probably supposed to be a suggestive manner but looked more like a muscle spasm.

“And if you value those reasons, I suggest you get that music sorted out. The wedding is the day after tomorrow and I’m going to need more of your help, what little there is, with the cake later.”

Lyra’s ears flattened in dismay; she liked Bon Bon making sure that she was able to sleep well, after all. 

“Oh, come on! I’m trying my best here! Holding that hostage is below the saddle-line and you know it!” Lyra exclaimed. 

“There won’t be anything below your saddle-line if you don’t stop foaling around and get that song done so that you can help me later,” Bon Bon threatened. Even she knew it was an empty ultimatum, though. She liked being able to sleep well just as much as Lyra did. 

“I bet Octavia doesn’t hold Vinyl hostage like this,” Lyra pouted. 

“And I’ll bet she doesn’t do that thing with chocolate sauce and her tongue that you like, either,” Bon Bon pointed out. 

Lyra facehoofed. “Ok, ok,” she acquiesced. “You’ve got me by the tail, mare. I’ll get it done.” 

“I’m sure you will,” Bon Bon said, gently nuzzling against Lyra’s face. “If anyone can manage it, it’ll be my favorite magical musician.” 

“I’m your favorite magical musician? Really? I kinda thought you’d dig Vinyl more than me,” Lyra asked facetiously. 

“You’ve got a bigger horn.” 





“Lyra, that isn’t going to fit in there,” Bon Bon said sagely, confident in her expertise. 

“Shows what”—Lyra panted with exertion, dutifully trying to prove Bon Bon wrong—“you know.”

“This isn’t my first time with this, you know. In fact, one could almost say that I am an expert at this particular task,” Bon Bon said, bemused by her partner’s stubbornness. 

“Buck your expertise,” Lyra grunted, straining herself to the uppermost. “This should bucking fit.” 

“Hmph!” Bon Bon snorted. “You aren’t very good at this, I’m sad to say. I thought you said you had done this before?

“I have! I swear!” Lyra said, desperately trying to hide a blush of embarrassment from shining through her minty coat. “I’m just . . . out of practice,” she finished lamely. 

“Would you like some help, dear? There’s no shame in admitting that you need a helping hoof.” 

“No! I can get it!” 

Bon Bon facehoofed, exasperated by her stubborn-as-hardened-frosting partner. “Lyra, you’re taking too long. Just let me help; it will be better for both of us.” 

“Oh . . . alright,” Lyra finally agreed. She slumped her shoulders in defeat and made room for Bon Bon to join her. 

“Well, first things first. You’re trying to cram all three tiers of the cake into our oven. Do you perhaps see a problem with that?” 

“You normally put it in all at one time,” Lyra said. She had watched Bon Bon bake plenty of cakes at work and she had always put them in the oven whole. 

Bon Bon applied hoof to face, finally understanding Lyra’s logic. “Did it occur to you that the ovens I use at work are much larger than the one here at home?” she asked. “They are built to bake an entire three-tiered cake at one time. The one we are using now is not.” 

“Oh. I guess that makes sense,” Lyra admitted, levitating the deceptively heavy cake pans back onto the counter. Now that she thought about it, it had probably been a bit silly to try and fit the whole thing into the moderately-sized oven in their house. “Uh, I guess we should do it in pieces, then.” 

“That would probably be the best course of action,” Bon Bon agreed. “Put the bottom tier in first. It will take the longest.” 

“Sure thing,” Lyra agreed. Her light green aura briskly levitated the thickest and heaviest part of the cake into the oven, setting the pan full of batter down onto the oven grate and bumping the door closed with her side. “There. That should take about 40 minutes.” 

Bon Bon’s hoof paused in its fiddling with the oven controls as she turned to regard Lyra levelly. “I think we’ve already established your level of baking knowledge, dear.”

“Hey! I know a lot about baking. I’m a well-rounded mare,” Lyra said defensively. Really, she had just spent so much time hanging around the shop where Bon Bon worked that the owner had said he may as well take her as an apprentice.  

Bon Bon’s hoof poked Lyra in the side, sinking into her warm skin with ease and making Bon Bon giggle like a schoolfilly with a crush. “Yes, you certainly are ‘well-rounded.’ I’ll give you that.”

“H—hey!” Lyra yelped, leaping backward from Bon Bon’s prodding. “Cut that out!” 

“I can’t help it,” Bon Bon said, still giggling helplessly. “You’re so soft, like dough that I just wanna knead.” 

“Hmph,” Lyra snorted with an agitated flick of her tail. “Well, this doughy filly’s gonna go work on the music she’s supposed to be composing while that bakes.”

Bon Bon lightly placed a hoof on Lyra’s back, halting her from leaving in a huff. She leaned in closer, inhaling Lyra’s scent, which, to Bon Bon’s eternal amusement, actually was vaguely minty. She nuzzled the side of Lyra’s white-striped green mane by way of silent apology, sensing that her teasing had gone a bit farther than intended. “Well, why don’t you let me help you find some inspiration?” she asked. 

Lyra’s skin felt like it heated up ten degrees under her coat and when Bon Bon lightly bit at her ear, she yelped again, but this time not in dismay. Her head turned to the side, leaving her neck vulnerable to Bon Bon’s nibbling. “Mm,” Lyra moaned gratefully. “I think I need all the inspiration I can get.”



> Chapter 5
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

At a truly obnoxious hour of the morning, a very groggy Lyra followed after a somewhat more alert Bon-Bon as they made the short journey to Octavia and Vinyl’s house. At least she was awake enough to avoid tripping over anything and making a spectacle like she usually did. Early-morning light streamed into her eyes, making her squint in displeasure at the idyllic quietude of barely-post-dawn Ponyville. “I can’t believe that I’m up this bucking early. Vinyl and Octavia had better be prepared to do some serious flank-kissing,” she muttered to herself. “Kissing my flank, that is,” she amended as her brain processed what her mouth had said and found the obvious loophole. 

“Ahem,” Bon-Bon coughed delicately as they came within view of their destination. “If you are finished complaining like the little filly that I forgot you are, just remember that the wedding is tomorrow. I need to finish the cake, you’ve almost got the music done, Rarity needs to do a final fitting for the dresses, and we all need to not go insane.” 

“I know, I know,” Lyra agreed grudgingly. Just because she knew it was necessary and for a good cause didn’t make being up early enough to watch Celestia raise the sun enjoyable. “I’m still gonna complain, though. It’s fun.” 

“Of course you will,” Bon-Bon agreed brightly. She didn’t expect anything else from the silly mare, after all. “But you’re still going to do it, aren’t you?” 

“Only ‘cause you asked so nice,” Lyra asked as she finally stopped beside the unassuming door of Vinyl and Octavia’s resistance. Her hoof reached out and rapped briskly on the door, causing it to swing slightly inwards. “Hey, it’s open,” she astutely observed. 

“I noticed. Just—Lyra, what are you doing?” Bon-Bon asked as Lyra shot her a wicked grin before slipping soundlessly inside the house. “Come back here this instant!” 

In her mind, Lyra slipped through the house in utter silence, drifting like a shadow. In reality she almost knocked over a table and sounded like a herd of buffalo as she “snuck” up the stairs, angling for the location of her still-slumbering quarry. Hurriedly, she pressed her ear against the closed bedroom door. The soft sounds of snoring echoing from within assured her that her targets were in fact still asleep and not involved in any other activities that she would prefer to leave uninterrupted. 

She pushed the door open, creeping into a bedroom still mostly darkened. Vinyl and Octavia were both still soundly asleep on opposite sides of the bed, looking utterly comfortable and content in their repose. Lyra smiled; the setup was perfect to let her take a bit of harmless payback for being dragged out of bed so early.     

“Rise and shine, motherbuckers!” Lyra shouted as a surge of mental exertion activated her telekinesis, grabbing ahold of her victims and tumbling them the short distance out of bed, sending them to the floor with dual thuds that echoed through the house. Innocently, she walked over to where her nearest target had landed in a tangle of grey limbs, long black hair, and enough expletives to make Lyra feel particularly proud. “Good morning, Octy,” she called brightly. “Did you sleep well?”

“Oh, wonderfully,” Octavia grumbled as she rose slowly to her hooves to glare at Lyra. “You are truly a good friend. Remind me to help plan your funeral when this is done.” 

The sound of hoofsteps from the hallway heralded the arrival of more ponies on the scene as Cobalt, Melody, Radiant and Silver Strings all responded in various degrees of sleepiness and confusion. Letting their questions spill over her, Octavia briefly checked on Vinyl, who was worryingly quiet for her. She was still snoring, a euphoric expression plastered over her muzzle as she lay sprawled on the floor. Reassured, Octavia turned to the crowd of ponies who had now invaded her bedroom. “Everypony, this is Vinyl and I’s friend, Lyra Heartstrings,” she said by way of introduction. “She’s helping with the wedding tomorrow. I have no idea why she decided to come and throw me out of bed. Now, I have to go use the bathroom. Why don’t you all get acquainted? And maybe one of you can see if they can wake Vinyl up.”





“Urk,” Vinyl grunted as Rarity tightened the fabric of the dress around her midsection. Her ribs felt like they were going to snap like Octavia’s cello strings when she practiced too much. “Holy hay, if this gets any tighter I’m gonna pass out before we say the vows.” 

“That might not be so bad,” Lyra countered from her vantage point, leaning on the counter and watching Vinyl’s last fitting. “Octavia might have a better time on the honeymoon with you unconscious.”

“For the record, I prefer Vinyl conscious. She’s much more malleable that way,” Octavia chimed in from her seated position as she waited somewhat patiently for Vinyl’s fitting to be over.

“I suppose that makes sense,” Lyra retorted. “Marshmallow-flanks is probably too heavy for Octavia to mare-handle.”

“Hey! Just ‘cause I’m white and soft doesn’t make a marshmallow!” Vinyl objected plaintively. 

“I dunno,” Lyra debated. “According to reliable sources, you taste good when coated in chocolate.”

“Ahem,” Rarity pointedly interrupted. Sewing needled clenched between her teeth, she turned to regard both mares calmly. “I do beg your pardon, but I am trying to concentrate here. This is delicate and artistic work, after all.” 

“Sorry,” Lyra apologized with an easy and entirely unrepentant smile. “I didn’t mean to get under your coat.”

“I have nothing against passion,” Rarity continued as she turned her attention back to the dress, sewing needle flashing at worrying speeds past Vinyl’s skin. “I am merely trying to avoid unnecessary distractions. We are on a deadline, after all.” 

“We know how tight the schedule is, Rarity. We could never tell you how incredibly grateful for all of your help in pulling this together,” Octavia said. “We could have gone clear to Canterlot and not found a better designer and seamstress than you.”

“Don’t mention it, darling. It’s my pleasure to contribute, however slightly, to the loving union of two ponies such as yourselves,” Rarity said, flattered enough that her smile sparkled like the diamonds adorning her flanks.

“That’s fine and all, but do you think you could maybe keep an eye on what you’re doing?” Vinyl asked worriedly as Rarity’s needle passed at high speed past her skin, ruffling her coat with each pass even as the seamstress’ attention was locked onto the other mares in the room. 

Rarity didn’t even bother concealing her un-ladylike snort. “Please, give me some credit. It is more likely that you would forget how to produce your music than that I would accidentally prick you.” 

“Ow!” Vinyl yelped as the wickedly sharp tip of the silvery needle lightly jabbed her on the side, not even breaking the skin. “What the hay, Rarity?” she demanded as she twisted her neck, trying to see if she was bleeding from the grievous wound.

“On the other hoof, it is very likely that I might administer a punitive measure to a difficult patron,” Rarity said smugly, fully focused on her efforts to finish a difficult hem. 

“Hmph,” Vinyl complained. “What was that for?” 

“Oh, she doesn’t really need a reason,” Octavia said with a grin she didn’t even bother to conceal. “I’m sure that you’ve done something to deserve being punished for, anyways.” 

“Oh?” Lyra asked with an entirely-too-interested grin. “Why don’t you tell us more about this ‘punishment’?”

“Lyra—“Octavia interrupted. 

“Does it involve whips and chains?” 

“Lyra—“ 

“Or hoofcuffs?” 

“Lyra—“ 

“Or maybe a bridle? Those are fun,” Lyra babbled on without concern or shame. 

“Lyra!” Rarity, Octavia and Vinyl shouted in unison, each completely unwilling to hear any more about the perverted lyrist’s version of “fun.” 

“What?” Lyra asked innocently. “Can’t a mare be curious?” 

Rarity’s eye held a threatening gleam as she regarded Lyra with very forced patience. “Lyra, darling, I have nothing but admiration for your relationship with Bon-Bon. However, I would prefer to not hear about the more . . . intimate details.” 

“Why?” Lyra asked cheekily. “You might learn something.” 

Rarity only smiled, and Lyra never noticed the faint glow of magic that infused several scraps of discarded fabric littering the floor of the Carousel Boutique. She did, however, notice when those bits of fabric wrapped around her muzzle in a blur, effectively silencing her.  “Ummph . . . hmmph mmph,” she grunted in annoyance as she futilely pawed at the tensile bonds with her hooves. 

“I would be considerably more satisfied with this arrangement if I didn’t suspect that she would enjoy this under other circumstances,” Rarity observed dryly. “Still, at least this way I should be able to finish this in relative silence.” 

Octavia glanced sideways at Lyra, who was sitting with a pouty expression on her face, having given up on dislodging the strips of fabric around her muzzle. Rarity’s magic had transformed them into a solid band that was more resilient than steel and twice as strong. Of course, Lyra’s own magic could have undone them with a little effort, but she apparently hadn’t made that mental leap. Or else she really was enjoying the impromptu bit of restraint. Either way, she was being quiet and seemed mostly content with the situation. “Remind me to tell Bon-Bon to keep her on a shorter leash in the future,” Octavia said. 

“Careful, Octy,” Vinyl sniggered. “Don’t give her any ideas.”

“For Celestia’s sake,” Rarity groused as she put the final few stitches into Vinyl’s dress. “Does anypony have any sense decency or decorum? If you must indulge in lechery, then at least save it for the bachelorette party.” 

That statement seemed to dislodge something in Lyra’s brain. “Mmph mmph mmhm!” she grunted determinedly, waving her hooves excitedly as she tried to get their attention. 

“She certainly seems earnest about something,” Octavia said uncertainly. “Do you think we should let her talk?” 

Rarity’s needle flashed a final time through the artful fabric adorning Vinyl’s body and Rarity stepped back triumphantly to eye her work. Nodding in satisfaction, she turned to regard Octavia happily. “We may as well, darling. My fabulous creation is finished!” 

“About time,” Vinyl said gratefully. “My hooves were starting to hurt from standing here.” 

‘I’d say it was more than worth it,” Octavia said as she rose to her hooves. She inspected her betrothed carefully, amethyst eyes roving across every inch of Vinyl’s body. The flowing dress of dove-grey hugged her form perfectly, emphasizing and concealing as necessary. Gentle blue highlights that echoed the lighter shade of her mane marked the hems of the dress, forming a flowing tracery. Octavia was fairly sure that she stopped short of drooling, but only just. 

Her approval did not go unnoticed. Lyra only looked on with her usual grin while Rarity was practically dancing on her hooves waiting for a final verdict. “Well, darlings, how do you like it?” she asked in a voice that masterfully concealed the trepidation of an artist revealing her efforts. Her voice couldn’t, however, conceal the slight twitch of her left eye or the slightly manic grin. “It is simply divine, is it not?” 

“I—um—yes,” Octavia stuttered before managing to take her eyes off of Vinyl. “Yes, it’s gorgeous.” 

“Hehehe,” Vinyl giggled like a schoolfilly at Octavia’s stunned expression. “Did I act like that when I saw Octy in her dress?” 

“If I recall correctly, you stood there for a good 30 seconds without moving or saying anything. When Lyra asked you what you were thinking, you blushed a deeper red than your eyes. I actually considered using the shade as an accent for you dress,” Rarity answered brightly. “It was rather . . . romantic, truthfully.” 

“Oh. Um, well,” Vinyl flailed, trying to preserve a part of her dignity. “It was your fault for making her look so good,” she finished lamely. 

“Mmph!” Lyra interjected again, motioning at her bound muzzle with imploring forehooves. 

“Oh, alright,” Rarity sighed as she focused on undoing her magic. “Behave.” The narrow strips of fabric binding Lyra’s salacious tongue unwound themselves as if possessed of their own minds, spooling into orderly rolls. 

“I almost forgot!” Lyra spouted as soon as her mouth was free. “Bon-Bon and I wanted to do the bachelorette party for you two tonight!” she exclaimed with a zeal normally reserved for the fanatical and the insane. 

“Lyra, what—“Octavia began to protest. 

“Aw yeah!” Vinyl exclaimed with undisguised glee. “Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about!” 

Octavia applied hoof to face, knowing that she should have predicted Vinyl’s reaction. The DJ was probably the last pony in Equestria to ever turn down a party. The quieter life of Ponyville had calmed her down a little bit, but not that much. Even the thought of Vinyl’s usual drunken antics was starting to give her a headache. Still, she usually managed to enjoy herself too, even if she regretted it later. A small smile crept across her face as she nodded agreement. “That does sound like it might be fun. A harmless distraction from all the stress of wedding planning couldn’t possibly cause any harm, after all.”





“I’m not much of an expert on these matters,” Octavia said aloud as she walked with Vinyl, Lyra, and Bon-Bon through the moonlight-spackled streets of Ponyville. “But aren’t there normally separate bachelorette and bachelor parties?”

“Well, yeah,” Vinyl answered. “But Ponyville’s only got one bar, ya know.” 

“Plus, you’re both technically the bachelorettes, so we only actually need one party,” Lyra chimed in. “Makes things a lot simpler for everypony, huh?” 

“If you say so,” Octavia agreed. “I suppose you two would be the experts, after all.” If anypony would know about parties and bars and the festivities that would go on there, it would certainly be Vinyl. She seemed to be the most excited as the bar in question loomed into sight further down the quiet street. It occurred to Octavia that she ought to be a little nervous about venturing into an unfamiliar establishment. On the other hoof, working at a night club in Canterlot had probably girded her against the worst that small-town Ponyville could offer. Living with Vinyl had rendered her immune to the rest.

“Experts on getting into trouble, maybe,” Bon-Bon said with a good-natured laugh as they drew close enough to see the small crowd of mostly stallions lingering outside. The group of mares attracted a few stares, but nopony did anything worse than smile or nod silently. 

“Aw, sounds like somepony’s got a stick up her rump,” Vinyl lightly mocked. 

“Nah, that’s only on Tuesdays,” Lyra chimed in. 

“That was officially too much information, Lyra,” Octavia groused at the mint mare’s input as they finally arrived at their destination, ignoring the assembled stallions as they ambled past them. 

“I’m not sure I want to deal with you drunk,” Bon-Bon said. “You’re bad enough when you’re sober.”

“I don’t hear much denial from you, sweet-stuff,” Lyra said cockily. “I guess you must not mind putting up with me too much. Even on Tuesdays.” 

“I’m more partial to Thursday’s myself,” Bon-Bon said as she pulled the door open for her friends. “Now get inside and don’t make too much of a scene.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Lyra replied with an ironic salute as she slipped inside, quickly followed by the rest of her companions. 

Octavia’s eyes adjusted quickly to the dark interior; the lights inside hardly even rivaled the bright moon that had illuminated their walk. It was a quiet crowd, with barely a dozen ponies nursing their drinks singly or in small groups and a pair of unicorns playing a heated game of pool in the corner; typical for a weeknight when most ponies had to be at work the next morning. At least, it had been quiet until Vinyl showed up. “Yo, barkeep,” she hollered across the bar in a dulcet tone that had all the gentleness of breaking glass, “Set up some shots for me and my mares!” 

“Whad’ya want?” he called back, already laying out the glasses. 

“Bacolti 151 should do the trick,” Vinyl answered, confidently striding towards the promised elixir of the gods. 

If anypony in the bar wasn’t paying attention to them after Vinyl’s trademark entrance, Octavia didn’t see them. Still, she ignored them and followed dutifully after Vinyl. This was already beginning to sound like a bad idea to the more dignified Octavia, but she was committed now. She sat down gingerly at the bar, ignoring the expectant gazes of the ponies around her who sensed a spectacle in the making. Vinyl joined her on the right while Lyra and Bon-Bon pulled up stools to her left; she herself peered down uncertainly at the small glass of clear alcohol, wrinkling her nose at the smell of it. She had smelled lighter fluid that was more appealing. “I’m not sure I’m up for something so potent, Vinyl.” 

Vinyl only grinned at her with the infuriating expression that meant that she was going to get exactly what she wanted and she knew it. “Alright, Treble Clef. You can just have a nice, lame fruity drink if you don’t think you can keep up with me. Otherwise, I dare you to do a dozen of these with me.”

The laughter and chortling from the surrounding ponies mixed with Octavia’s own stung pride, producing a decent substitute for alcohol’s liquid courage. She felt heat creeping to her face as he wrapped a hoof around the shot before her, throwing it back in a single motion. It burned like fire down her throat and it felt like a flaming serpent was slithering through her stomach within mere seconds. She held back a choking cough as she slammed the glass back down onto the table and looked at Vinyl with a challenging expression. “Oh, it is on,” she announced, already reaching for the next shot. 

Bon-Bon watched on with horrified fascination as they began matching shot for shot. After a few more, she turned to Lyra, who was also watching with rapt interest. “This is going to end badly, isn’t it?” she asked concernedly. 

“Oh, yeah,” Lyra answered with more hope than concern. “This is gonna be good.” 

“Ten bits says one or both of them get thrown out,” Bon-Bon wagered. 

“You’re on,” Lyra accepted. 





“How in Celestia’s name did this happen?” Octavia asked, burying her face into her hooves as she sat on the cold stone floor of Ponyville’s small jail hours after Vinyl’s dare. Her mane, normally well-kept and elegant, was unkempt and erratic as it fell forward to conceal her expression from her companions.

“Well, first Vinyl dared you to do a dozen shots with her,” said one of the cramped cell’s other occupants, a mare and unicorn with a coat of green, tilting her head in thought as she reached back through the dim haze of alcohol-impaired memories. 

“That was a rhetorical question, Lyra,” Octavia protested as she feebly massaged her temples. 

“And then you each started to down as many hard ciders as you could after Vinyl said she was the better drinker,” continued the third mare in the cramped space, a beige earth pony with a tail and mane of curled blue and pink streaks that bounced with a jaunty spring as she moved her head. “You were both a good sixteen glasses in when you decided to start making out at the bar. You two actually started to get pretty heavy before the Guards showed up and arrested us for public intoxication and indecency. But I guess you technically won, since Vinyl is out cold,” she said, shrugging philosophically. 
Turning, Lyra gently poked the white-and-blue mass that vaguely resembled a pony lying on the floor and which comprised the fourth and final mare present. It snorted and began snoring in response to the prodding. “Yup, she’s still out. Bon-Bon’s right, Octy; you are officially a better drinker than Vinyl. Though don’t expect her to take it gracefully.”

Octavia stared, mouth agape. “How are you two so blasé about this? We are in prison on the day before Vinyl and I’s wedding!” she demanded. “This is a catastrophe,” she moaned as she cradled her head in her forehooves.

“Technically, this is jail. Prison is a lot more serious. And make that the day of your wedding,” Lyra pointed out as she gestured towards the barred window, through which the first tentative rays of dawn were leaking. “And we’re so blasé ‘cause, hey, it ain’t our once-in-a-lifetime special day getting royally bucked up.” 

“Lyra Heartstrings!” Bon-Bon exclaimed with a scowl directed towards the source of her ire, “I know you’re just trying to lighten the mood with sarcasm, but do us the all a favor and don’t. Think of poor Octavia before you go running your mouth at a time like this.”

“You don’t normally mind my mouth—“ 

“Don’t even start with that,” Bon-Bon interrupted, rolling her eyes. 

Lyra sighed, her sides heaving before she laid a gentle forehoof on Octavia’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Octy. I’m sure everything’ll be ok.”

“Ok? Ok! How in the name of lunacy will any of this be ‘ok’?” Octavia demanded.

Lyra shrugged. “Well, at least it can’t get any worse.”  

Bon-Bon sighed and covered her face with her hoof. “Lyra, dear, I know you’re just trying to make Octavia feel better . . . but please stop. Your brand of “comfort” isn’t helping right now.” 

“No, she’s right, Bon-Bon,” Octavia said as she shifted uncomfortably on the stone floor, wrapping her tail around herself for security. “It really can’t get any worse. Unless Vinyl dies of alcohol poisoning. Or Nightmare Moon, Discord and Queen Chrysalis team up to conquer Equestria. Or Princess Celestia outlaws same-sex marriages today.” She laughed, just a touch of hysteria creeping into her tone that sent Bon-Bon scooting an unconscious inch away from her. “I mean, there’s not much else that could go wrong, is there? We’re already in bucking jail on my bucking wedding day, my bucking fiancée is bucking unconscious; there’s not much else that could bucking go wrong!” 

“Jeez, Octy, where’d you get that mouth of yours? You said ‘bucking’ like six times,” Lyra asked with a raised eyebrow. She snickered. “Personally, I recommend you save it for the honeymoon.” 

“Lyra, that’s just rude! What is wrong with you today?” Bon-Bon yelled with flattened ears and a glare.

“That’s assuming there is a honeymoon,” Octavia interjected morosely. “Oh, Luna; what will our parents say? So much effort and planning has gone into this wedding; to have it ruined now would be horrible, let alone by something so utterly ridiculous.”

“Well then, darling, wouldn’t you say it is remarkably fortunate to have generous friends?” asked a melodious voice from beyond the stark bars of the cell. 

“Rarity!” Octavia exclaimed as she rushed to the door to meet her savior. “Oh, thank Celestia! I’m so sorry to call you for this, but I didn’t have anypony else.” 

“Well, I detest going out in public without taking the time to apply my makeup and properly attend to my mane, and it is a positively ghastly hour of the morning to be out and about,” Rarity said despite looking fabulous enough to make a supermodel weep. “And, I won’t lie; I was more than little shocked to hear that you, of all ponies, needed to be bailed out of jail.” 

Octavia flushed with embarrassment, flattening her ears and looking away. “I know, Rarity. I’m sorry that I had to drag you into this.” 

Rarity sighed, even her resignation somehow managing to sound elegant. “Well, we all have our little indiscretions now and then,” she said gently. “It’s simply a part of life. Remind me to tell you the story of how Applejack and I got arrested in Canterlot after a shopping trip gone horribly wrong. I’m sure it would cheer you up. Now, come on; I’ve paid your bail and we have a wedding to get ready for!"

> Chapter 6
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Mares and gentlecolts, we are gathered here today to witness the union of Vinyl Scratch and Octavia Philharmonica in blessed marriage,” Ponyville’s Mayor Mare intoned solemnly. She scanned the small crowd of families and friends gathered in the town hall, reverently quiet for the special occasion. “Does anypony know of a reason why these two should not be so joined?” The crowd shuffled nervously, trying to see if anypony would be so bold as to object. Fortunately, no one came bursting through the doors like in a movie to derail the process and Mayor Mare continued. “Very well. Do you, Octavia, take Vinyl to be your wife for as long as the bonds of love and life hold you together?” 

Octavia gulped, facing the most important words of her entire life. She froze, her mouth open but unable to speak. A second after she began to panic, she found her answer; it arose from her heart rather than her mind, but she knew it was the correct one. “I do,” she said, vibrant with confidence. 

“Will you show her kindness when she hurts, generosity when she wants, and laughter when she is sad? Will you be honest and loyal to her, that you both might be bound by the magic of your love?” 

“I will,” Octavia answered immediately. She would love nothing more than to do exactly that. 

The mayor nodded, turning her attention to the other mare before her. “Do you, Vinyl, take Octavia to be your wife for as long as the bonds of love and life hold you together?”

Unlike Octavia, Vinyl didn’t need to process the question. It bypassed her brain and addressed her feelings directly and they answered without hesitation. “Hay yeah I do,” she said. 

Mayor Mare’s stoic exterior cracked slightly, and half a smile met Vinyl’s characteristic attitude. Octavia reminded herself not to facehoof. “Will you show her kindness when she hurts, generosity when she wants, and laughter when she is sad? Will you be honest and loyal to her, that you both might be bound by the magic of your love?” the litany continued. 

“I will,” Vinyl agreed. Really, it was the least that Octavia deserved from her. 

“Then, by the power vested in my by the sovereign nation of Equestria as the Mayor of Ponyville, I now pronounce you wedded,” Mayor Mare said. There was a twinkle in her eyes as she continued, “You may now kiss the bride.” 

The crowd hushed in expectation. Octavia turned to see her brand new wife, radiant in one of Rarity’s finest designs, staring back at her. Amethyst and ruby eyes locked gazes but neither of them moved. They had kissed countless times before and done other things too, but somehow it was different now that they were married rather than merely a couple. 

Octavia broke the ice first, gingerly closing her eyes and stepping forward to receive the expected, appropriately modest press of lips against her own. 

Instead, Vinyl pulled her roughly forward, administering a sloppy kiss with plenty of tongue. Octavia’s eyes widened in surprise for a second, but she soon melted into it. The crowd cheered and stomped in approval and a certain green unicorn could be heard whooping with glee. 

Perhaps, Octavia thought as the moment stretched on, it isn’t so different after all. 

When they finally stepped reluctantly back from each other, they found that the Mayor had already taken her leave of the stage. They turned and walked side-by-side down to face the onrush of ponies that took their cue to surround them, congratulating and offering good wishes. “What a lovely ceremony,” Melody said with a glistening smile as she stepped forward to embrace Octavia. “My little filly is all grown up!” 

Her little filly resisted the urge to point the urge that she had been all grown up for a while now. “Thank you so much, mother. It means so much having you both here today,” she said instead as she returned the hug. 

“You look darn good, sweetie,” Silver Strings said as he joined in. 

“Thank you too,” Octavia said as she returned his hug as well. “This was the best day of my life. I’m glad I got to share it with both of you. If you’ll excuse me a moment, though, I’m looking for somepony.” 

“Of course, honey,” Melody said with an understanding smile. “Go and find her.” Octavia stepped away from her parents, only to find a different crazy unicorn than the one she was after. 

“Hey, that was a nice kiss you two had up there. No shame, just like it should be,” Lyra said as she wrapped a foreleg around Octavia’s back. “I got you a little something for your honeymoon,” she whispered conspiratorially as a small, wrapped box slipped into one of the folds of her dress. “Enjoy.” 

Lyra disappeared without another word. Octavia knew better than to inspect the contents of the box here. She would open it later, preferably when she and Vinyl were suitably alone. In fact, she spotted Vinyl herself standing by the small refreshment bar, sipping on a glass of something non-alcoholic; they had both known better than to provide anything intoxicating. She was clearly waiting for her wife, and the word still sent a little jolt through Octavia, to join her. So she did just that, sauntering over to nuzzle cheekily at her. “Vinyl, my love, this is the happiest I think I’ve ever been.” 

“I think you’re right,” Vinyl agreed, passing Octavia another glass that she put to her lips. It was apple cider, the good kind from Sweet Apple Acres. Rarity had probably tugged a few strings to get them a keg out of season. Octavia added another item to the list of “things to thank Rarity for.” She smiled at her partner, the smile that meant that she was dying to say something. “Hey, Treble Clef, guess where we’re going on our honeymoon.” 

Octavia drew a blank. “Honeymoon? We never talked about a honeymoon. If anything, I figured we might stay for a few days in Canterlot or Baltimare to give us some alone time.” Oh, how she craved that alone time. Lyra’s damned box was eating at her curiosity. 

Vinyl kissed her again, quick and sudden like a pouncing beast of prey. “Actually, I hear the Crystal Empire is nice this time of year.” She smiled at Octavia. “Our train leaves tomorrow morning.” 

Octavia gaped. “But the Crystal Empire is so far away . . . it will take us days by train to get there.” 

“It sure will,” Vinyl agreed. “Days in a private train car just for the two of us, with plenty of—“she smacked her lips—“alone time.” 

Octavia suddenly found herself very much on board with Vinyl’s idea. Part of her wanted to gallop off right that very instant. Still, she reminded herself, she couldn’t do so just yet. “I think that may be the best idea I have ever heard. But before we get that time to ourselves, I believe that we are obligated to pose for approximately twelve thousand photographs.” It was a time-honored tradition that every wedding must be accompanied by far more pictures than anypony could ever need, after all. 

Vinyl saw a number of cameras already being set up and groaned. “I guess you’re right. That’s okay, though.” She leaned closer to whisper in Octavia’s ear. “The longer I have to stand beside you without being able to get under your tail, the more time I have to think of things to do to you.” 

Octavia smiled, her face warming at the implications. “You’d better get creative, then, because I have a few ideas of my own,” she challenged. 

“Oh, I will. I’ll be getting creative with you for years,” Vinyl said. “And that’s a promise,” she added firmly.