The Grey Siren

by Bro Dash

Rating: everyone
Tags: Romance
Length: 1347

What can one call a musical mare that lures ponies to her? Beautiful music that entrances her victims, but not making them her victims. Serenades and arpeggio swings, a beat of vibrato strings, and a dance of eighty hooves.

What can one call a musical mare that lures ponies to her? Beautiful music that entrances her victims, but not making them her victims. Serenades and arpeggio swings, a beat of vibrato strings, and a dance of eighty hooves.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-02-19 04:50:08 UTC

Upon the Siren's Mountain Top

Silencio patio...Exaudio.

Music is a blessing. Few take the time to learn such an art, and those few who do, and love it, become wonderful people, are able to tug at one's own strings with ease, make them feel desires and love for the song itself. You can't love a song. You can love music. A beautiful mistress ready to take you away, make you hers, but you must first court her in her wishes. Play her song, make her sing.

Septimus was adrift upon the northern Equestrian winds, flying south to home as leisurely as it gets, practically just floating on the wind that carried him, feeling it dig under his feathers and grey coat. As if nothing could make it better, something did, catching his ear like a hook. He craned downwards towards the ground, and nearly fell into free fall from flight, a hilarious mistake, but not funny as he caught wind of the sound that had just...grabbed him.

The cherry blossoms were in bloom, the animals that inhabited the mountain quiet enough that you could here a pin drop, softly still, not stock. A family of rabbits turned to Septimus as he passed above, landing gracefully on the flat stone rock of a cleaved boulder. The mountain was littered with them like steps upon a sea of grass, wavering with the winds that blew over.

Septimus caught better sound of the song, practically yanked along onto the next step, then the next. He came over one hill of the mountain top, and spotted a large stone platform on the center mound, and upon it sat a mare, striking away at the strings of a gold trimmed cello, playing music that didn't miss any instrument. It sounded like a whole band was playing behind her, and even continued when she paused, flicking her hoof with bow in hand. A few violins appeared in front of her in an arc, playing for her, and as she flicked the bow again, fourteen double basses appeared. With each flick, more stringed instruments appeared by magic.

As if drawn to meet her, Septimus took off, bounding from rock to rock with short flaps of his wings and strict lunges, coming to a halt on the very cut steps that lead onto the platform. The grey mare didn't notice him at all, nor did she stop playing. Her serenade wasn't over, she was too deep to stop anytime at all until she had had enough.

As Septimus passed in front of her, he noticed her thick golden strings she strummed on, and the ebony wood the cello had been crafted from. But she did not notice him or what he did, either, she had her eyes closed. But opened them when a different sound reached her ears.

One violin stopped, and as Septimus set it to his chin, sitting down, and waiting, picking up the tempo, Octavia stared, continuing to play her instrument with the same fervor she did before. Septimus brought the bow to the silver strings, and they hit the perfect pitch, the right notes, counter Octavia's own melody. Like two sides of a coin.

It was a heavy orchestra for what felt like hours, filled with held back tears, glee, and sweat. There didn't seem a moment where any of it mattered or fit, despite it being so natural. The only negative part about the song. A siren's call, and a stallion's answer.

Septimus moved closer to Octavia, unnoticed by her until he rubbed his muzzle against her neck softly. She cooed, leaning in on him. As she let go of her instrument, though, it kept playing itself, and she even pushed the Violin out of his hooves, letting it glide back to it's spot to continue playing.

"Amo te.", she whispered before nuzzling into his neck, sharing a quick kiss.

"Tu es pulchra.", he replied, returning her affections.

It was a long day indeed, filled with music, and the sweet scent of love. Eventually, Octavia and Septimus had enough. If it was any kind of indicator that the sun was lower than the horizon. A moonlight concert would be wonderful, but one cannot stay forever.

Octavia eventually recalled every instrument, sending them back to where they came from, and picked up the cello last, setting it in a case, and hefting it over her back.

"Need any help with that, love?"

"No, I've got it. Ne need to be anymore a gentleman than you already are. You're perfect."

Septimus smiled, "I've never heard or played music so beautiful."

"Neither have I. Best I've played in three years."

"You have a beautiful accent. You live in Canterlot, don't you?"

"What gave it away?", she smiled, nuzzling against him once more before setting off.

"...So you're just going to leave?"

"I have to go home, a job to attend."

"And...you'd do it alone?"

"I've done it alone thousands of times before."

"Would you rather do it with someone else?"

Octavia slowed her walk to a stop as she turned around, "You're more than welcome to join me. I've got nopony else to play with."

Septimus trot to her side, "Gladly. I am Septimus Anulus."

"Chivalrus?", Octavia pushed on him as they began their way down the mountain, "I'm Octavia."

"You speak Latin."

"And play it, love."

"I like it. More of a language of romance than any other that claims the title."

"But it's a dead language. More often than not, I'll shout it in anger. It was the first language I was taught."

"I only know a little bit, not too much."

"I can only hope you know enough.", Octavia said softly. "Accipio mea domus."

Septimus grinned knowingly, "Indeed I will..."

As the two got to the city of Canterlot itself, Octavia was barely awake on Septimus' back, and the cello had been held up by his large wings. They're larger than most other pegasi are born with. Much larger.

A light passed overhead, and Octavia stirred on his back, moving to nip at his ear playfully.

"Calm down, we're almost there.", he rubbed his nose against hers.

Octavia set her head back down on his shoulder and he continued on his way the same as before, walking at a slow pace that didn't bring them to Octavia's own home until the moon was high. It was large, one of a wealthy mare, and as Septimus was let into her home, he was greeted with a tired maid.

"I'm sorry, I fell asleep while waiting...", she confessed. "I didn't expect company either."

At least she kept her voice low. The mare took the cello off of Septimus' wings, and he let the two fold against his side comfortably, waking Octavia from her slumber. She rubbed against the back of Septimus' neck lovingly, and he slightly quickened the pace, going to where that maid mare pointed, exactly. It was Octavia's own bedroom.

"You really love me, don't you?"

"Etiam.", she cooed, nipping at his ear again.

Septimus neared the bed, and shrugged her off, letting her gently onto the ground before turning towards what looked like a bathroom.

"I'll be back, just need to take a quick break.", he smiled to her.

Entering the bathroom, he stopped at the shadow line, flipping the switch, and turned towards the mirror inside. He et her on a mountain top, played with her the entire day. He barely knows her, but that love for music he always had was sitting heavily, outweighing the fact that he question whether or not it was a good idea. Love can blossom anywhere. but whether or not it turns into a good relationship is a very low chance.

Septimus sighed, throwing all of that out. He love her now, why not enjoy it?

Septimus appeared from the bathroom, and Octavia had already laid down in the bed, more than likely asleep, until sh elooked over her shoulder at him.The grey pegasus walked over slowly, and spread his wings as he stepped onto the bed, engulfign the grey mare.