A Night On Deck
"Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose."
—Janis Joplin, "Me & Bobby McGee"
~
Aboard the S.S. Hoofington, Canterlot's elite settled in for their first night on deck. The vessel was a glorious construction, hoof-crafted and magically enchanted by Equestria's finest architects. About a hundred of the wealthiest and most influential unicorns waited in the dining area of the cruise ship, nestled in the lower decks near the rear of the beast. The S.S. Hoofington had set sail from the windswept coast of Fillydelphia, bound for the Griffon Kingdoms. Among the nobles who took their seats and tapped their hindhooves impatiently—stomachs rumbling in protest—was none other than Princess Celestia's nephew, Prince Blueblood.
Straightening his tie, Prince Blueblood pulled up a stool at one of the tables near the front of the ship's dining room. He chose an empty table, seeking solace and solitude while he waited for his meal. It was a welcome reprise.
All day, he'd mustered his best mask, answering the meaningless questions and returning the mindless chatter of the mere peasants who accompanied him on this voyage. After all, it was he alone who had been sent by royal decree to visit the neighboring Griffon Kingdoms in pursuit of trade negotiations. The rest were simple vacationers.
Prince Blueblood was a stallion of wealth and taste, and knew the value of his time. With the sun setting on the calm waters of the horizon, he knew he didn't have much more time to spare before he would have to turn in for the night. As such, he settled into his seat and clapped his forehooves once.
On cue, a wait-pony arrived, tray in forehoof. "Yes, Your Highness?" he asked, bowing his head.
Blueblood smirked and shot back, "Tell me, stallion. How much longer before the chefs have my dinner ready? I am quite famished."
Already, a few beads of cold sweat rolled down the wait-pony's neck. "Ahh, sir, the chefs are working diligently to—"
"Put a rush on my order,” he said abruptly. He flicked his muzzle and snorted, crossing his forehooves. "And make sure those chefs don't skimp on the balsamic vinegar this time! By my aunt's mane, the last time I was stuck on one of these filthy, decrepit little boats, my salad was drier than the Appleloosian desert."
The waiter's pupils dilated to the size of his serving tray. "Y-yes sir! Of course, Your Highness!" The stallion bowed to his guest repeatedly as he hurried away, back-pedaling towards the galley.
Out of the corner of his eye, Prince Blueblood noticed a pair of giggling unicorn mares making their way towards his table. He rolled his eyes and sighed. Solitude would have to wait. Reluctantly, the prince turned around in his stool and faced his admirers. Forcing a smile (remembering Celestia's lecture on royal manners after that unfortunate Gala incident), he managed, "Hello there, fillies. Nice night, isn't it?"
One of the mares squeaked in delight and clapped her forehooves together, turning to her companion. "Oh my stars! He's just so charming!"
The other mare maintained her composure and held out a simple napkin and a quill, shining with ink. "It's so wonderful to meet you, Your Highness! Can we please have an autograph?"
Resisting the urge to groan, Prince Blueblood nodded, gritting his teeth and willing his magic to pick up the quill.
~
In the galley of the mighty cruise ship, a team of chefs scrambled to prepare tonight's feast. Imported foods of all varieties would quench the passengers' growing hunger pangs. Fresh salads, stone-ground breads, hearty stews, and scrumptious desserts, however, required precious time. Time that the frantic crew simply didn't possess.
"Peppercorn! Laddie, don't be spillin' that broth! Took me all day ta make that veggie broth fer these hoof-lickers’ stew!" shouted the head chef, Salt Sphere. Grease and sauce stains marring his apron, he shook his grizzled muzzle and ordered the rest of his crew, "Get a hoof on, slowpokes! These hoof-lickers ain't gonna be waitin' too much longer fer their dishes!"
Peppercorn steadied the pot of broth and carried it over to one of the stovetops. "But, Salty, we're gonna need at least another half hour or so to get everything ready!" Picking at a pimple on his neck, he said, "Maybe we should get that musician to—"
"Again?!" Salt Sphere scoffed and wiped his forehooves on his apron. "That's the only reason we keep that weirdo around, ain't it, Peppercorn? Pickin' up fer yer slackin'!" He gestured to his crew, shaking his muzzle again in growing disappointment.
About a month ago, the captain of the S.S. Hoofington hired a traveling musician to play while the ship was sailing around the continent to Las Pegasus. The newcomer was an Earth pony stallion named Noteworthy, who boarded the cruiseliner with nothing but one suitcase and a saxophone.
Neither Salt Sphere, the captain, or the passengers had ever seen an Earth pony saxophonist. Coordinating those delicate keys with clumsy hooves seemed laughable at best. However, the newcomer failed to disappoint. In a stroke of luck, Salt Sphere had caught the last few minutes of Noteworthy's show.
And became even more confused.
Noteworthy appeared to be an aloof—almost arrogant—pony. Salt Sphere's few attempts to make conversation with him fell flat. Noteworthy didn't seem very interested in chatting with anypony at all, spending most of his time aboard in his tiny room or at the Hoofington's bar on the lower deck. But where he'd restrained and muffled any passing words, Noteworthy expressed each and every thought and emotion that passed through his mysterious mind on stage.
Noteworthy was a strange bloke, Sphere admitted, but Celestia could he play.
Sighing, the chef nodded slowly and waved Peppercorn off with a forehoof. "Aye, go find that bloke an' get him on stage. Have him play a quick set o' somethin’ ta keep 'em hoity-toity fancy-pants ponies occupied while me lazy crew finishes the dinner!" Salt Sphere bucked the wall with a hindhoof and stomped impatiently. "What are ya waitin' fer?! Get on it, all ya!"
~
This picture. It was this picture that he treasured above all his meager possessions. Clothes, a pocket watch inscribed to him by an old friend, some books and journals, quills and ink, even a bit-bank filled with emergency funds: all of these could be swallowed by the raging sea, if only it left him this picture. Equestria could sink into the depths of Tartarus and he would dance in the flames, if only he could view this picture every night before slumber took him.
Noteworthy stretched on his bed, arching his back into the mattress. He stared up towards the ceiling, clutching the picture frame close to his heart. The cool contact of glass and metal against his sleek, blue fur sent shivers down his spine. He exhaled and glanced towards the porthole on the opposite side of his cozy room. A curious orange-and-white fish found a potential point of entry and fluttered its fins there, staring at him. Noteworthy smiled and rose from the bed, trotting to the circular window.
He placed a forehoof on the glass and tapped lightly. The fish didn't budge. He smiled and shifted the picture from one forehoof to the other, then pressed it to the porthole. The fish opened its maw in a little "O" of surprise.
"She's beautiful, isn't she?" he whispered to his visitor, lowering his eyelids.
Knock, knock.
A rattling of forehooves on his door sent his scaled friend scurrying away into the depths of the black ocean before he could answer. With a sigh, Noteworthy placed the picture on the nightstand, facing it away from the door. "Coming.”
He walked over to the door and pulled it open. There stood a scrawny, pimply-muzzled Peppercorn, who fidgeted with his hooves. Noteworthy raised an eyebrow. "Peppercorn? What is it?"
"Er, Noteworthy! The guests are getting re-restless again," Peppercorn said, staring at the floor. While he, too, believed that Noteworthy was one of the most talented musicians he'd ever heard in his young life, something about the blue stallion set him on edge. He could speak well of him behind closed doors, but muzzle-to-muzzle, he felt… keyed-up. Anxious. As if Noteworthy knew something about him, something he couldn't place his hoof on. As if Noteworthy's silence was deliberate, not borne of the same social awkwardness that plagued the fledgling chef.
Noteworthy groaned and face-hoofed. "Again? Old Salt Sphere's taking his sweet time in the galley, huh?"
Peppercorn nodded and made the mistake of looking into those empty, haunting yellow eyes. Yellow. Gold. The color of bits. The color of bits, and yet, Noteworthy lived aboard in the cramped quarters with only one suitcase to his name. The color of bits, and yet, Noteworthy gave all his tips to the bartenders and the galley crew.
Mysterious blue stallion with yellow eyes. Knowing too much.
Sighing, Noteworthy glanced to a corner of the room where he'd propped his saxophone to dry. Freshly polished and cleaned, the instrument sparkled and shone in the dim, glowing light of the oil-lamp on his nightstand. Each key glistened in sequence, a constellation of brass. His second most prized possession.
Even he found it somewhat strange that he considered the instrument second in importance to anything else. Even the photograph. The saxophone was, after all, the reason he was here. It was the reason he'd played and gambled in the notorious casinos of Las Pegasus. It was the reason he'd danced on the checkerboard floor of Manehatten's premiere nightclubs. It was the reason he'd seen the vast sands of Saddle Arabia and the sunset against the cliff-faces of Appleloosa.
And… it was the reason that he was free.
Noteworthy took a deep breath and caved. With a slow, reluctant nod to Peppercorn, he strode towards his saxophone. It seemed both of them still had work to do before retiring for the day.
"I'll be out in a few minutes, Peppercorn. Just keep 'em busy."
~
"Attention, please! Can I have your attention, please?"
Peppercorn's heart thundered. He shifted his weight on his hindhooves and stretched up on the stage, calling out again, "Attention, please! Everypony, can I have your attention, please?!"
A sea of dignified muzzles snapped towards him, many of them seething with irritation. The nervous stallion coughed awkwardly as the room's clamor fell to nothingness. He wiped the sweat from his mane and began his announcement. "Ah, yes, thank you, fillies and gentlecolts. Ah, yes. Tonight, we have—"
"Where's the food?!" shouted a mare near the rear of the dining hall. She rolled her eyes and fanned herself, clicking her tongue. "We've all been waiting on this dingy for hours to get something to eat!"
Prince Blueblood looked up from his glass of scotch and snickered.
Feeling faint, Peppercorn fell down to all four hooves and steadied himself. He stole a glance in the northwest corner of the room, near the galley. In the shadows, Noteworthy waited patiently, his saxophone strapped around his neck. With a nod and a smile, the musician urged him to continue.
Peppercorn nodded and took a deep breath. The walls began to close in around him, advanced by a growing clamor of angry, hungry nobles. "Everypony! Tonight, we have a special guest. H-he will provide some mu-music and ambiance while we prepare your meals as fast as we c-can."
Before anypony could hurl further abuse towards Peppercorn, Noteworthy began to trot up towards the stage and out of the shadows. He flinched slightly as the glow of two chandeliers above the stage met his tired eyes, twelve candles burning brightly. He'd made himself stage-ready with haste, choosing one of his finest silk ties and taming the strands of his mane. His instrument reflected the light of the stage frames and contrasted against his deep-blue mane and coat, seeming almost ethereal.
Silence entered with him, dispersing amongst the crowd. Angered nobles forgot their stomachs for a moment and curiously watched the musician ascend the steps to the stage. Peppercorn thanked his stars he'd survived the encounter—unlike some of his crewmates, who occasionally found a glass or plate tossed their way by impatient elite—and made his exit. Prince Blueblood stretched out his hindhooves and levitated his glass to his lips.
Noteworthy took his place at the center of the stage, slinging his saxophone from his neck. He smiled warmly at the crowd—a lowly, lone Earth pony in an ocean of the privileged and blessed. Outweighed by all in bits, blood, and magic, he opted to forego an introduction. It was not his job, his place, or his prerogative to make himself known.
Noteworthy simply existed to play the saxophone.
With expert ease, Noteworthy gripped the saxophone with both forehooves, leaned back slightly on his hindhooves, closed his eyes, and steadied himself. Losing himself in the taste of the reed against his lips, the feeling of the brass keys against his keratin, and the heat of the candles burning above, he began to play.
~
The scotch sliding down his throat was soon forgotten. Bluebood listened carefully. He'd seen and heard the finest musicians in Canterlot Castle. Trumpeters, percussionists, violinists, pianists, cellists—all had attempted to sway his royal favor, to gain his patronage. All had failed. Prince Blueblood was a stallion of wealth and discerning taste. He was a hedonist and an epicurean, but found no pleasure in the brown-nosers who'd trounced his hallowed halls with their endless racket.
This, however… these notes...
The melody was uplifting and sorrowful all at once, bringing him to a pause. He stopped mid-drink and levitated his glass back onto the table. Peering up at the musician, Blueblood struggled to recognize him. Instantly, he acknowledged his own foalishness. An Earth pony saxophonist? Earth ponies were not destined to be musicians. A few among them defied their own biology, but they were rarities, indeed. An Earth pony mare who played the cello and an Earth pony stallion who took to the piano came to mind. Both had almost won his favor.
But this...
Sitting up straight in his stool, Blueblood watched the artist at work. His forehooves moved skillfully and quickly from key to key. Each miniscule movement was precise. No erroneous keys were pressed in the process. His tempo was steady, missing no beats. The song carried the room with it, erasing all minds of hunger, anger, or anxiety. Blueblood glanced at the rest of the guests, those wide-eyed commoners. All seemed to have forgotten his presence, transfixed by the stallion on the stage.
For the first time in many, many years, Blueblood smiled like a colt and closed his eyes, drinking the music instead of his liquor.
~
An uproar of thundering hooves against floorboards woke Noteworthy from his haze. Rising from the depths of his tango, he twirled and dipped Music as his partner, letting her take the final bow. He opened his eyes and gazed around the room. Almost a hundred Canterlot nobles clapped as loud and hard as they could, uncouth and overjoyed.
Noteworthy smiled slightly. He had danced with Music again, painted the room with his brass brush. He'd collected the frowns and furrows of the audience, sweeping them away into the rubbish bin with tempo, melody, harmony, chorus, and refrain. Perfect pitch, perfect tone, perfect execution.
Nevertheless, it was Music's ultimate accomplishment, not his. Even so, the stallion bowed—only for a second, only for a little—then slung his instrument over his neck, trotted off stage, and ducked into the kitchen before anypony could follow him.
He could still hear the applause while he passed sizzling stovetops and barking head chefs.
~
Salt Sphere's gamble paid off in full. After the strange stallion serenaded another round of ready guests, dinner was served with many apologies and shaky bows. Bowls of fresh, green salads and hearty stews dotted with vegetables of every color, plates of quinoa and lentils, baskets of bread, and dessert trays of pies and cake filed out of the kitchen. The dining hall was soon abuzz with light, sophisticated conversation and the careful clattering of utensils. Crisis averted.
Eating in solitude, Prince Blueblood failed to notice the multitude of complex tastes. His palate ceased to comprehend the layers of spice and sensation. His intrigue overpowered his hunger, rendering his meal a mere jaw exercise. As he ate, he thought again of the stallion and his music. Who was this mysterious musician? Why had he made no introduction? Why did he only play one song?
And why was that song so… powerful?
"Sir?"
Blueblood shook out of his thoughts and turned to the wait-pony standing beside his table. It was the same timid stallion from before, this time balancing a tray full of dirty plates and glasses. The stallion bowed his head. "Your Highness, is there anything I can get for you?"
A smirk appeared on the unicorn's muzzle. "Yes, there is."
"Anything for you, Your Highness. Shall I bring you..." The waiter peered at his honored guest's table. "More dessert? Perhaps another scotch? Cocktail?"
He shook his head and tapped his chin with a forehoof. "No. No, that won't be necessary. Do tell me though… who was that musician?"
Switching the tray to his other forehoof, the wait-pony asked, "Who? Noteworthy?"
Blueblood blinked. Why was that name familiar? "Tell me about him.”
The wait-pony shrugged, tugging at the collar of his tuxedo. "Ah, sir, I'm afraid there isn't much to say. He doesn't talk that much. Mostly just—"
"Where can I find him?"
"I believe I saw him at the bar on the other side of this level just a few minutes ago. If you hurry, Your Highness, he might still be there."
Rising from his stool, Prince Blueblood adjusted his tie and dismissed the waiter with a flick of his mane. "Thank you. That will be all." Past wandering eyes, he strode towards the other side of the ship, disregarding the whispers that followed.
~
Applejack Daniel's on the rocks. Crisp. Biting. Stinging a little down the throat, leaving a fire in his belly. Usually one. Sometimes two. Never more than two. That was just inviting trouble.
The bartender set down his first drink, poured to perfection. "'Ey. Great job there, kid," he said, offering him a napkin. Noteworthy accepted with a nod and took a sip of the whiskey. "How is it, kid?" asked the bartender as he cleaned a shot glass.
Noteworthy smiled softly and nodded again. The perfect balance of ice and fire. Harmonious contradiction.
Shrugging, the bartender stroked his grizzled chin for a moment before shifting his focus to other guests at the bar. The musician came here often—about every other night. Usually, the other patrons would leave him be, occasionally shooting curious glances his way.
Tonight, however, noble-stallions offered the musician a hoof-shake and a dollop of praise. Noble-mares fluttered their eyelashes at him and ran their forehooves through their manes, to the chagrin of their partners. None could sway the stallion with the saxophone. He sat silently at the bar, sipping at his Daniel's and chasing the ice cubes in a circle around the glass.
Noteworthy stared into his liquor. In a week or so, the S.S. Hoofington would reach the shores of the Griffon Kingdoms, presenting yet another opportunity for adventure. He'd met a few Griffons, but never in their native country. Would they, too, welcome his music? Or should he return home with the crew, perhaps setting hoof towards Las Pegasus again? Or, maybe, it was time to return to—
No. There was never a time for that.
A stallion cleared his throat behind him. Noteworthy looked over from the corner of his eye. There, a regal, white unicorn with a fine, imported silk tie and a perfectly combed, blonde mane grinned. "Excuse me, sir. Mind if I join you?"
"Eh?" Noteworthy looked around the bar. While it was bustling, there were certainly many other seats to be had. Though he enjoyed his solitude, he hated conflict even more. With a shrug, Noteworthy nodded and sipped his whiskey.
The unicorn called out to the bartender, "Sir, a fresh glass of your finest scotch, if you please."
"Hmm?" The bartender whirled around and gasped, taken aback. "Y-Youze Majesty! O' course! Yes! Right away, sir!"
"Majesty?" Noteworthy turned to the unicorn, who settled in a stool beside him.
Blueblood smirked. "Do you know who I am, Noteworthy?"
Another raised eyebrow. "How did you know my name? And no, I don't know who you are."
Chuckling, the royal stallion accepted his drink with a stream of blue magic and a nod towards the bartender. "I am Prince Blueblood. Nephew of Princess Celestia and current ambassador to the Griffon Kingdoms, though many other locales shall soon be blessed with my presence."
Unfazed, the musician swirled the ice in his glass and stuck out a forehoof.
Prince Blueblood looked at his forehoof, then into his eyes, a mixture of curiosity and disgust on his muzzle. Again, he asked, "Do you know who I am?"
"You are Prince Blueblood, nephew of Princess Celestia and current ambassador to the Griffon Kingdoms," recited Noteworthy, "though many other locales shall soon be blessed with your presence."
Shifting awkwardly in his stool, Blueblood snorted and sipped his scotch. Noteworthy simply took another drink and stared at him in silence.
Blueblood furrowed his brow, puzzled. Where was the awe? The humility? The falling to his hooves in worship? At the very least, where was the honor—the privilege—the expression of joy and amazement? Wherever it was, Noteworthy was nowhere near it. And that both interested and irritated the prince.
Taking the silence as an opportune time to make his exit, Noteworthy chased the last of his whiskey, relishing its journey. "Well," he said as he pushed the glass away, "it was very nice to meet you. I'd best be going to—”
"Wait!" Blueblood exclaimed, putting a forehoof on his shoulder. He reacted instinctively, then recoiled instantly, pulling away. Strangely, his forehoof did not tingle or feel unclean from the contact of a commoner. But perhaps, he thought, that was because this stallion was no commoner.
Noteworthy calmly replied, "Yes?"
"Your music… your music is, for lack of a better word, astonishing. Never before has anypony been able to entertain me as much as you did tonight."
"It was one song," Noteworthy said flatly. He shook his muzzle and rose from the bar stool. His mind fixitated on a photograph, he said again, "It was very nice to meet you, but—"
"Please!"
Blueblood hopped off his stool, leaving his scotch half-finished. "Please, I would like to speak to you. Perhaps you could become a mainstay at Canterlot Castle, my own personal performer?"
"Oh..." Noteworthy took a step backwards and darted his gaze all around, avoiding the prince's eyes. "Ahh, I'm sorry, but, I'm not like that..."
"What?!" Gasping, Blueblood scoffed. "No! No, that's not what I meant! It's just... argh!" He narrowed his eyes, glaring at several gawkers at the bar. Lowering his voice, he said, "Please, can we just talk for a few minutes? Outside, maybe?"
Noteworthy paused. Blueblood wasn't going to let him off the hook so easily. While he was used to occasional curiosity, he couldn't place his hoof on the the prince's intrigue. Regardless, it seemed that he would have to endure a round of questioning before he could retire to his mattress, his photograph, and his dreams.
"Alright." Noteworthy sighed. "Let's go to the upper deck."
~
Surrendering to her dark and mysterious sister, Celestia exchanged her star for Luna's parish lantern. The two stallions snuck their way up to the upper decks, thankfully without an entourage. One drunk mare swayed her way after the prince, but a curt remark and a call for security solved that problem.
They stood in silence for a few moments, watching the ocean lap against the ship, slow and gentle. The moon was full and in absolute control of the tides, lowering them this time. In the far, far distance, the horizon loomed, tempting and mysterious. It called Noteworthy's name, taunting him, teasing him—
"Where is your saxophone?"
"I put it back in my quarters before I went to the bar." Stretching his forehooves on the railing, Noteworthy guessed, "You must think it's enchanted, don't you?"
Joining him, Blueblood snorted and rolled his eyes. "No! Of course not! I… I am a very powerful spellcaster myself! I would've known if it was enchanted!" He adjusted his tie and snorted.
Noteworthy chuckled. "It's not enchanted, Prince Blu—"
"Just call me Blueblood."
With a shrug, the musician said, "Alright. It's not enchanted, Blueblood."
"Then… how do you do it?"
"Practice makes perfect," Noteworthy simply said. He tilted his head and glanced sideways at the prince. "So… is that what you wanted to talk about? You want to learn how to play?"
"No, that's not… no." Blueblood cleared his throat and beamed, his perfect molars glistening in the moonlight. He puffed out his chest before saying, "I would like to offer you a position, Noteworthy. A, erm, full-time gig, in your terminology."
"Blueblood, that's very kind of you, but—"
"Your pay will be a thousand bits a week, plus lodging and meals. All at Canterlot Castle, at my expense!" Blueblood paused, then stuck out a forehoof to shake. "What do you say?"
Noteworthy glanced at his forehoof, then at the unicorn, then back again.
Silence.
"Well?" Blueblood pushed his forehoof further towards him. "What do you say, Noteworthy?"
"Thank you, but..." Pushing his forehoof away, Noteworthy leaned up on the railing again, eyes glued to the horizon. "It is a very tempting offer, but I'm afraid I must decline."
Ears flattening, Blueblood stomped the deck and flared his nostrils. "How can you turn down an offer like that?! That's at least ten times what these hooligans are paying you!" He gestured to the lower decks with a scowl.
"Do you know how many musicians I've paid to attend my birthdays, my garden parties, my holiday plays?!" Blueblood leaned forward, getting muzzle-to-muzzle with a mere commoner. "How dare you reject my offer!"
Noteworthy smiled.
"What is so… funny to you?!"
Standing his ground, Noteworthy said quietly, "Do you know who I am, Blueblood? Or, rather, who I was?"
"Of course not! Nopony seems to know!"
"Would you like me to tell you?"
Taking a hoof-step back, the prince groaned and rolled his eyes. "Now, why would you tell me—almost an utter stranger—that? You didn't even tell the audience your name! Now, you want to tell me that?"
"You don't have to listen."
"I… but... hmph!" Crossing his forehooves, Blueblood dismissed the musician with a flick of his muzzle, staring into the opposite horizon. "Fine," he said coldly, watching the waves lap against the ship. "Considering nopony's ever heard of you, I'm guessing there isn't much to tell."
Noteworthy shook his muzzle and laughed. "You'll have to decide that for yourself."
~
"Next up, on saxophone… Noteworthy!"
Shuffling his hooves, the little blue colt made his way past the curtains and onto the stage. His mane was drenched in nervous sweat and his forehooves shook violently. Between those hooves, he clutched his instrument, willing himself, ‘Don't drop it, don't drop it, for Celestia's sake, don't drop it.’
Nestled in a corner of the theatre, a mare and a stallion waved proudly to their son, hopeful smiles on their muzzles. In the front, a panel of judges regarded the colt with disinterested glances and a shuffling of paperwork. The final hopeful for the Fillydelphia Musician's Academy had arrived, and his audition couldn't be over any sooner.
One judge blatantly laughed out loud when Noteworthy emerged, tickled by the sight of a clumsy Earth pony with such a delicate instrument. Cheeks flushing with humiliation, Noteworthy urged himself silently to focus. To remember every single lesson he'd endured for these past few years. To remember the sacrifices his parents—struggling merchants—made to afford those lessons. To prove himself in the face of disbelief and exchange that smirk on his muzzle for a look of awe.
Closing his eyes, he envisioned the notes falling before him, and began to play.
~
"Let's just say… it came time for that judge to eat his words."
Blueblood threw back his mane and laughed. "So… you've been playing for… how many years?"
"Going on fifteen, actually." Glancing at his flank—a simple pair of eighth notes—he said, "That was the day I got my cutiemark. Mom and Dad couldn't have been prouder."
The prince snorted in disinterest and brought a forehoof to his chest. "I was one of the first in my heritage to earn mine! Is that supposed to impress me?"
"No, actually, that's just the beginning."
~
"Students, please turn your textbooks to page thirty-three, where we shall begin our study of Beethoofen's classics..."
Concentrating intensely, Noteworthy barely noticed the tap on his shoulder the first time. The second time, he furrowed his brow and pressed on, turning the page of his textbook. Only a breeze. Must have been. A third tap. He swatted his shoulder. Spiders. This hallmark of academia was full of spiders.
A soft, gentle giggle tore his attention away from the tome. He glanced over his shoulder. There, a gray Earth pony filly with a wavy, black mane waved a crumpled-up piece of parchment his direction and held out her forehoof. Taking the hint, he swiped it from her before the instructor turned back to the class.
To his wonder, he felt a spark upon their contact, and his muzzle flushed crimson.
Stashing the parchment beneath his desk, he uncrumpled it as fast as he could. His prize was one question with three possible answers, a blank checkbox beside each:
Do you like me?
Yes No Maybe
Looking back at the filly, he let his ears droop and circled, "Maybe".
~
"Young love. Always the hardest. I remember my first crush..." Blueblood sighed contentedly and turned to the musician. "When I was twelve, my dear aunt introduced me to a student and ward of hers, Ca—"
Noteworthy held up a forehoof. "Ahh, but this was more than young love, Blueblood."
"How so?" He snorted. "Everypony experiences such foalishness. The fluttering of hearts, the twisting of stomachs, the... poetry..." Retching, Blueblood coughed and flicked his snout. "Foalishness. Nothing to get one's mane in a tangle over. And I still don't see how this explains anything about you."
"You shall see, in time," Noteworthy said. "For one, she wasn't just a colthood crush."
"Oh? Is she your mare?"
Noteworthy smiled, then looked away.
~
Eighteen now and on the cusp of stallionhood, Noteworthy trotted with Octavia through the streets of Fillydelphia. Side-by-side they strode, passing by cafes, shops, restaurants, and clothing stores. The summer breeze teased their manes and sent clouds of pollen their way. Between occasional sneezes and resulting giggles, they excitedly hashed their post-graduation plans.
"So, you're going to study at Julimare, aren't you, Noteworthy?"
"Of course I am, Octy," he said as he nuzzled her playfully. He kissed her cheek and smiled. "After six years, there's no way I could even think of going anywhere but where you'll be."
She glanced up at him, biting her lower lip. "I..." She looked away, kicking a rock with a hoof. "Are you sure? I mean… I don't want to hold you back. I know you've been thinking of going to Canterlot to study." She leaned against him and nuzzled his mane."Don't you want to get out of this city anyway?"
Holding her tight, Noteworthy led the pair to a nearby bench. Sitting on his haunches, he cuddled her and said, "Yes, yes I do. Someday. But right now, Octy, I want to be with you."
"I know, but..." She sighed. "Noteworthy, please, if you do ever change your mind—I won't stop you. I promise."
"You don't have to promise," he said, taking her forehooves in his own. "I'm not going anywhere."
~
Blueblood beamed approvingly. "Julimare? That's where most of the Royal Court attended college. Let me guess… a scholarship?"
Noteworthy nodded. "Indeed. As one of very few Earth pony saxophonists—and a decent one, at that—" he added, prompting a scoff from the prince— "I was guaranteed a free education. Octavia and I stayed in separate dorms, of course, but we did everything we could to see each other as often as possible." Getting down from the railing, he walked to the opposite side of the deck, watching as the tides began to change.
"Octavia… the cellist?"
"Yes. A brilliant one."
"Lucky colt." Blueblood snorted and ran a forehoof through his mane. "Why, if she were only a noble—"
Noteworthy glared at him.
"Sorry." Sheepish, the prince cleared his throat and said sincerely, "It is quite improper and rude to speak of another stallion's mare that way. I do apologize."
Sighing, Noteworthy said, "Not finished yet, Blueblood."
~
A thousand points of light. Beyond the horizon laid the sea, an ocean between the coastal border of Equestria and the Griffon Kingdoms beyond. That was east. But what of west? Of Trottingham, Manehatten, Canterlot, Ponyville, Appleloosa, and beyond? What of those?
Noteworthy had never been beyond Fillydelphia's walls.
Perched up on the balcony of his dorm room, he numbered the stars. Weeks of intense study of music theory wore on him, announcing their presence in black circles under his eyes. His ribs were beginning to show beneath his slick blue coat. His mind raced throughout his days, full of notes, measures, rhythms, keys. His hooves and mouth ached from writing and performing and writing some more and performing some more, so much stress and anxiety and fights with him and Octy because she was stressed too, stationed on the other side of Julimare where no stallions were allowed into the dorms and they met between classes and under cover of night in the streets, but it wasn't enough, it wasn't enough and everything was falling apart...
None of that mattered now. Noteworthy braced his back against the balcony railing and looked westward. An entire nation—an entire continent—beckoned him. Equestria itself in his hooves. He was eighteen. Eighteen going on eighty now.
"Hey, Noteworthy! You alright?" one of his roommates shouted, shooting him a concerned glance from his window.
"I'm fine. Go to sleep, Cedar," he said with a sigh, closing his eyes. Basking in the moonlight. Feeling the wind in his mane.
There was a musician who played by the gates of Julimare—a unicorn mare with a lyre. She never dressed in fine threads, but none of her ribs were visible. She played classical mostly, with occasional, more popular tunes thrown in. She placed a hat at her hindhooves, and it would be full of bits by the end of the day.
At first, Noteworthy was unsure why his thoughts turned to the lyrist. He was committed to another mare, after all. Not just another mare. The most beautiful mare he'd ever seen. His best friend and confidant for the past six years. His everything. His only.
No, it was not lust that directed his contemplation. It was that smile on the lyrist's muzzle. A genuine, satisfied smile, one that had failed to grace the face of any his professors or instructors or conductors or...
Or, these past few months, himself.
The wind blew from the west, teasing his mane.
~
During a rare, free day, Noteworthy met his mare on the outskirts of Fillydelphia, near a clear, sparkling lake. He hung his hindhooves lazily off the bench, letting them swing in the breeze. It was somewhat of an awkward position, but it seemed to fit the lyrist. He'd tried her way and found it comfortable as well.
The lyrist. It had been six months since he'd started at Julimare and first seen her strumming away, seemingly without a care in Equestria. No matter what he tried, he just couldn't shake her image away—why was she so happy and everypony else so… sullen? Serious?
Was life supposed to stop being fun after high school or something?
"Noteworthy?" Octavia's gentle voice lifted him from his thoughts. She stood curiously beside the bench, tilting her head. "Is that… comfortable?"
He laughed and patted the bench beside him. "Sure is, Octy. Come up here and join me."
With a smile, she leaned against her stallion and pecked his cheek. "I'm sorry I've been so busy lately. I've started work early on my semester project. Another composition and performance, due in a few months."
"A few months away, and you're already starting? Why worry?" he asked.
Octavia chuckled and ran a forehoof through his mane. "Well, if one wants to become the best cellist in all of Equestria, one can't afford to slack. What about you?" Concern in her words, she looked into his eyes and said, "Cedar says you've been… despondent lately."
"Cedar?" He snorted. "That goon? You believe what he says about me?" Crossing his forehooves, he scooted away from her, leaning against the edge of the bench.
"Noteworthy..." Sighing dejectedly, Octavia reached out to him. He squirmed away from her, staring at the lake. She tried again. "Noteworthy, please. We get so little time to see each other… tell me what's bothering you. Please?"
With a groan, he turned around to face her. Taking her forehooves in his and squeezing them gently, he met her gaze. "Octavia… have you ever noticed..." His words faded, struggling to the surface.
"Have I ever noticed what, Noteworthy?"
Noteworthy shook his head. "Forget it," he mumbled, relinquishing his grip. He snapped his muzzle around and stared at the lake again. "It's stupid, anyway."
"Come on. We've been together for how long now?" Octavia paused, waiting for his answer. When the stallion didn't respond, she said, "I care about you, Noteworthy. I really do. I'm sorry that we have to be so far apart when we're so close… is that what this is about? I promise to make more time for us, I real—"
"It's not about time," he said, spinning around. Adjusting his posture, Noteworthy asked angrily, "Have you ever noticed how nopony around here seems happy?"
Octavia blinked several times in response, then asked, "What do you mean?"
"The professors, the instructors, the conductors! The ponies on the streets. All our classmates." Noteworthy rubbed his eyes and sighed deeply. "Everypony seems so unhappy. But why, Octavia? This is the best academy in Equestria. Practically every great musician graduated from Julimare."
"Well, I bet it has to do with all that pressure they're under, sweetie." His ears pricked. Octavia never used pet names like that. Nuzzling his cheek, she whispered, "Don't worry. Everything will be alright. You're just stressed. I can tell."
Try as he might, he wanted to agree, to submit to her comfort, to hold her close and kiss her and wake up where everything was alright. But, he couldn't. Noteworthy was a stallion of many traits, but dishonesty was not among them. Unable to force a smile, he let his countenance fall, a deep frown carving lines into his muzzle.
The mare reached up and pulled him close by the chin. "What's wrong?"
"Octy… have you ever..." He winced, knowing what would follow. Unable to stop himself, he finished anyway, "Have you ever seen that unicorn who plays the lyre?"
Confused, she nodded slowly. "Y-yes. I have seen her a few times. Why?" she asked, a twinge of fear in her voice. Was this it? Was this what her friend Vinyl warned her about?
Was there another mare?
Noteworthy sensed her tension and chuckled. The awkward laugh only seemed to thicken the air. Rubbing his neck, he said, "Well, it's not what you're thinking—"
"What am I thinking?"
"I don't… I'm not talking about her like that, Octy. It's just… she seems happy."
She scoffed. "So?"
"Well..." Noteworthy glanced at the Fillydelphia streets in the distance, teeming with ponies of all ages, shapes, and sizes. They stomped through the streets, mostly alone, eyes to the ground. No emotions were visible on their muzzles—blank as the cloudless skies. He turned back to Octavia. "Don't you want to be happy?"
"What?" She backed away a little, alarmed. "Of course I want to be happy! What sort of question is that?"
"I don't know." Staring at his hindhooves, Noteworthy said, "Maybe it's the most important question of all. Maybe it's the one that nopony asks themselves. Maybe everypony just does what's expected of them."
Octavia felt her heart harden to stone and slide into her stomach, settling heavily there. She gulped, her pulse beginning to quicken its pace. "Noteworthy..." Taking one of his forehooves in both of hers, she asked, "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"
He bit his lower lip and closed his eyes. "Remember when you said that you wouldn't stop me if I wanted to leave Fillydelphia?"
The stone froze to ice, proliferating through her veins. Somehow, she found the strength to reply, "Yes, I remember."
"I..."
He looked from the street to the lake.
Noteworthy looked up and into Octavia's eyes. Six years stared back at him. Six years that could be swept away in the utterance of a single sentence. Six years that cut deep into his heart, leaving scars that no other mare could heal or touch.
Six years he'd never forget, if he were to lose them now—even though the mere thought of that broke something within him.
Noteworthy couldn't lie.
"I want to leave, Octy."
The wind rustled through the trees and the grass, cutting through the cloudless sky. On the streets, the rhythm of hooves and small-talk failed to drown out his thoughts. He'd done it. He'd done it. He'd finally done it. He'd finally said it.
Silence.
"Octy…?"
He'd ruined everything.
"Noteworthy..." Octavia removed her forehooves from his, looking away. Fighting tears, she choked, "W-where?"
"Where?"
"W-where will you go?"
"I—"
"Canterlot?" She spun around, hopeful fire burning in her eyes. Drowning out the tears, which shimmered behind a thin veil. "Are you going to go to Canterlot? To study? To play for the Princesses?"
Noteworthy shook his head.
"Then..." Running her forehooves through her mane, Octavia began to ramble. "Where shall you go, then? There's no music school in Manehatten! Or Trottingham! Or Ponyville! Just Canterlot, and Fillydelphia, and some ponies go to the Griffon Kingdoms or Saddle Arabia to study, but griffons and horses and ponies don't exactly have the best of relations, and you'll be so far away and I'll have to save up bits to visit you, and—"
"Octy." Grabbing her by the shoulders, Noteworthy forced Octavia to face him. "I… I love you, but I'm sorry. I can't stay here. I'm not going to Canterlot, either."
Allowing a few tears to escape, she sniffled, avoiding his eyes. "Where… where will you go, then, Noteworthy?"
His yellow eyes were steely with determination as looked to the source of the wind. "I'm not sure yet. But I need to just… go.”
~
Prince Blueblood cleared his throat. Noteworthy hung his forehooves over the railing, staring at the vast, blue horizon. Playing with his tie, the noble stallion debated whether to ask what happened next. By his monotone and his thousand-yard stare, it was all too obvious.
He didn't have long to debate, however, before Noteworthy spoke again.
"I've replayed that conversation many times over in my head, Blueblood. To be honest, I didn't tell her the whole truth. I didn't have a specific destination in mind." Searching for the North Star, he continued, "I just wanted to be happy. I'd heard of so many ponies who struck out, traveling, supporting themselves with little gigs or busking like that lyrist did. Searching for themselves. Searching for meaning.
"All my life, I'd been raised with the impression that this was what I was supposed to be doing. Once I'd gotten into that academy, everything seemed laid out before me. Graduate, go to Julimare, earn a degree, earn the favor of the nobles..."
Finding Polaris and tracing an invisible circle around it with a forehoof, Noteworthy said, "But that mare. That mare with her lyre. That mare with her lyre, who sat on a bench and collected bits in her hat. That mare changed my entire perspective. Well, she and the sky."
"The sky?" Blueblood trotted up behind him and joined him at the railing, staring up at the stars. "What is so unique about the sky? Didn't you see it before then?"
"Of course I did. But, I didn't really see it."
Prince Blueblood opened his mouth to object, but thought better of it. Instead, he nodded his acknowledgment, urging the musician to continue.
Noteworthy tore his eyes from Luna's canvas and returned them to her nephew. "If it weren't for those two things, I think I would've continued at Julimare. Would've graduated by now. Might even be playing in Canterlot Castle for you, just like you'd want."
"See, that seems like a pretty fine deal to me," said the prince, grinning widely.
Noteworthy smirked. "I'm still not going to do it, Blueblood."
"Drat." Blueblood sighed and leaned against the railing, following the horizon. "Well, one can't argue that I didn't try my best to persuade you.” From the corner of his eye, he watched Noteworthy stand in silence. "So… what happened next, Noteworthy? Did..." He paused, and decided to ask anyway. "Did your mare come with you?"
"I thought you'd never ask."
~
After an exhausting few weeks of cataloguing his possessions—selling some, giving away others, packing the rest into one large suitcase—Noteworthy stood beside the gates of Julimare for one last time. His trusty saxophone strung around his neck and his suitcase by his side, the stallion dug a forehoof into the cobblestone street, waiting.
Waiting for Octavia.
His parents were the next to hear his news. Understandably, they were furious. Their only son—their talented, sweet, obedient son—threw their sacrifices back into their faces, throwing away all they'd worked to create for him. He'd failed to mention that he wouldn't be giving up the saxophone. A door slammed in his muzzle prevented that.
His roommates and friends followed. His announcement was met with wide skepticism and disregard, sprinkled with (what he suspected) a twinge of jealousy from several, including Cedar. While his fellows would slave at books, parchment, and music stands, Noteworthy would deal with a whole new set of challenges. Whether the former was better than the latter, he would soon find out.
He adjusted the strap of his saxophone and peered around. No sign of the mare. "Come on, Octy..."
He never said he wouldn't be coming back.
Just that he didn't know.
Noteworthy waited. And waited.
He sat down on his haunches, removing his saxophone from his neck and propping it against the suitcase. He waited some more. Removing a map of Equestria from the suitcase, he traced the patterns of his journey. First, he would go west. That's what stallions always said to colts, right? "Go west, young colt." Go west.
Go west and be happy.
An hour or so passed. Noteworthy tucked the map away and waited, searching for any sign of Octavia.
He would only be gone a few months. Maybe a year. It wouldn't take that long to find himself, right?
He wasn't lost in the first place.
Right?
Noteworthy waited. He kept waiting. He kept waiting, even as night fell, even as his hooves fell asleep, even as his tears mingled with the rain.
~
"After that night, I went on anyway. I went to Manehatten first. Played in some nightclubs. Then Ponyville. Performed for a Summer Sun Celebration. Next came Appleloosa. Met the locals… the Buffalo too. Went to Las Pegasus last. Played in the famous casinos there. Even ran into some gangsters." Noteworthy smiled toothily, walking over to Blueblood. "That was almost seven years ago. Haven't looked back since."
Prince Blueblood shook his muzzle slowly, sure he hadn't heard correctly. "Wait… so… you lost your mare, your parents disowned you, and your friends thought you were insane.”
The unicorn titled his head. "And you're smiling about this?"
Noteworthy nodded.
Taking a few hoof-steps back, Prince Blueblood raised an eyebrow and snorted his skepticism. "What's… what's wrong with you?"
"I'm free, Blueblood," he said.
"Free?! How so?" Blueblood gesticulated to the open sea. "Free to… to sleep under bridges? To worry about your next meal? To stare at the water? Free to eat sub-par ship food? Free to frolic with that filthy kitchen crew?" He spun on Noteworthy, certain his ears betrayed him. "And you… you gave up everything! How is that freedom?"
With one last smile, Noteworthy simply said, "Nothing left to lose," and bowed his head.
"It's been a pleasure to meet you, Prince Blueblood."
Before the unicorn could stop him, Noteworthy scampered towards the lower deck and ducked into the galley. Prince Blueblood didn't follow. He stood there for a long while on the upper deck, staring into his aunt's moon, wondering what tricks it had played on the saxophonist.
Wondering what compelled him to follow it, the lantern in the night.
Wondering if he, too, was happy.
~
Noteworthy locked the door to his room and removed his tie, carefully folding it and placing it back in his suitcase. He breathed a sigh of relief when he located his second most prized possession.
He hadn't lost everything. Blueblood was wrong.
Removing the photograph, he perched on the bed, sitting on his haunches, letting his hindhooves swing above the floorboards. He chuckled and caressed the cool glass and metal, tracing the outline of the frame.
Noteworthy glanced up at his porthole. The fish had returned, its fins flared in piqued interest. Grinning, he trotted over to the window and pressed the photograph to the glass.
"She's beautiful, isn't she?"
The fish opened and closed its mouth, then swam away.
Noteworthy turned the photograph back to face him. She'd never said goodbye, but she didn't have to. Goodbyes were difficult. Far too difficult to ask of a young mare. He understood. He had to.
He wrote her letters over the years. She never wrote back.
Noteworthy couldn't blame her.
In spite of everything, he was free. He had no ties, no responsibilities, no fears, no obstacles. With few possessions to worry about, he moved from town to town, playing his saxophone, chasing his dream. Chasing himself.
Coming closer. Ever closer.
But, he realized, sitting back down on his tiny mattress, sometimes, he didn't want to be free anymore.
Sometimes, he wanted to have something to lose again.
Noteworthy smiled into Octavia's eyes and whispered, "Tonight was a wonderful night on deck. Let me tell you about a new friend I made. I think you'd like him..."
