Octavia: A Cellist's Curse

The garden was abundant with life this summer morning. The wind was calm and crisp, it felt great to feel it run through one’s mane. The air was abundant with the serenades of the local birds and those who occupied the garden’s stage, as the audience listened quietly to the soft, mellow music that had entranced them into an almost comatose-like state as it began to wind down slowly.

With one final draw of her bow against the string, the final note sang out harmoniously in tune with her enchanting voice, and before she had lowered her bow and her head, she heard the coos and the awws of her audience which signaled how fantastic her performance just was.

Always was.

She’d played many performances for many, many years, and had performed at every possible venue one could think of: Canterlot? Played there three years ago. The Grand Galloping Gala? Four months ago. Las Pegasus? Two months ago. Manehatten? Last week.

And now she brought home her most notable accomplishment that no other famed musician had ever had—merely only dreamed of accomplishing—playing for the Royal Sisters in the royal garden, for them and only the most noteworthy nobles that they had invited.

Five years in a row now.

Octavia raised her head ever so slightly, just enough that from behind her bangs she could see her audience of thirty, all of them nobility of the highest chaff, but of them all, she smiled at eight notable figures: Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, both who were smiling and clapping their hooves to her music. To the right of Celestia was Twilight Sparkle and to Luna’s left, an aged Sweetie Belle and her plus one, Sassy Saddles, while sitting just one row below them in front of the Royal Sisters was Prince Blueblood the Third and his—if she remembered correctly—third marefriend of the year.

Seeing how old Sweetie Belle and Sassy both had gotten brought a tear to her eye as Octavia recalled that it seemed like just yesterday they were both ever so young and full of life, whereas now they were as old as Granny Smith

After what felt like a lifetime, the noise began to die down and the clapping all came to a dead stop. After it had, Octavia raised her head fully, stood up, and took a bow, then began to walk offstage while her assistant, a mauve unicorn wearing a black dress that gave the impression she had broad withers (or was just hefty by how high up it stood along her back) stood up from her seat behind Octavia and packed the instrument away in its case, then followed the cellist off stage.

Once she had escaped the eyes of the audience and returned to the safety and comfort of her room inside the castle, Octavia stared at her reflection in the mirror absentmindedly. She stared at herself and allowed her thoughts to be free of their chains, and as she did, the mare on the other side of the mirror began to change; she took on a new look that Octavia had seen countless times before, but when she heard the sound of the door opening, Octavia slipped into the bathroom where she started the shower. While she waited for it to warm up to her liking, she walked over to the full body mirror across the room and peered into it, seeing her reflection changing before her eyes.

Her purple eyes dulled and lightened until they seemed to be glossy; her hair, unkempt, and her smile now a frown. Upon her face, she saw features of light purple and black, with tiny spots of maroon in them prominent against her cheeks and around her eyes. While along her lower mandible, she saw bright red gashes, once stitched up but now coming undone.

Turning to her side so she could stare at her profile, Octavia saw similar bruises all along her body as well as multiple cuts and scrapes, each also stitched up and red, then once she made her way to her Cutie Mark, that was when she felt the tears in her eyes. It was no longer pristine and unscathed but rather faded. It looked like it had been ebbed out by sandpaper in an attempt to remove it completely, but managed only to cut into her flesh and tear that away instead.

Octavia slowly brought a hoof up to her face and touched her cheek, the visage in the mirror doing the same, before she wiped away the tears in her eye and looked away in shame.

“It doesn’t get easier, does it?” a soft voice spoke to Octavia.

Octavia opened her eyes and looked up to see her assistant now standing in the bathroom with her, completely unclothed, and eyeing her solemnly with amber eyes. The depressed mare could only look back at her friend and shake her head before she lowered it shamefully.

“It never does, Azure,” Octavia answered Azure Blossom.

Azure frowned then gently walked over to Octavia and pulled her against her barrel before stroking a hoof through Octavia’s mane and humming to relax her. Azure could attest to what Octavia was feeling right now, was always feeling, and all she had to do was glance over her left wither and see the grotesque disfigurement of what once used to be a whole wing, which was now just a stump of its former self, then to her right and unfurl her other wing just to see that it had been maimed at its tips; rending it useless now as well.

“And yet you asked for this despite all of my warnings,” Azure whispered back to Octavia.

Octavia silently nodded against her companion, weeping and trying her best not to cry to Azure, only to herself. She had been doing great by only letting the runaway sobs that escaped her lips burrow deep within Azure’s tuft, but that facade came crashing down the moment she felt the familiar blanket of warm feathers against her body. Octavia knew that it was Azure’s clipped wing and instantly became nothing more than a foal wanting its mother’s comfort.

Azure Blossom lowered herself down onto her haunches and pulled Octavia closer to her to let the mare cry to her heart’s content, just as she always did every moment they were alone and every night before she fell asleep. In her own age, Azure had long forgotten what sadness felt like or that tears were commonplace with such an emotion since she had become dull to the pain that her longevity provided her.

“Hush now, little filly, don’t you cry,” Azure began to whisper sweetly to Octavia. “Mommy’s here now, so don’t say goodbye…”

Octavia listened to Azure as she sang a song that she had grown to love and admire over the short span of time she spent with her. Somehow, it managed to do something that her own music, or the songs of her fellow musicians, could never do, which was calm her and soothe her aching soul. As Azure continued singing to her, Octavia felt her tears coming to a stop and her pain just vanish and before she knew it, she felt her sadness wash away too.

“Azure, do we have time?” she asked hesitantly.

Azure Blossom stopped singing to Octavia and looked down at the shaking mare, then nuzzled her before planting a kiss on the top of her head.

“Not right now, Octi. Promise me you will tell her the truth and tonight, and I will grant your wish.” Azure countered in response.

“Do I have to tell her ‘the truth’ entirely?” Octavia asked Azure when she looked up at the motherly figure she was nestled closely to.

“Yes. Trust me, Octi, it will help you get better.” Azure answered back, meeting Octavia’s gaze with her own.