A Process of Elimination

Most of the memories from my earliest years were of quiet ridicule and disdain from both my family and the noble families my mother still firmly under her hoof at the time. I, of course, was much too young to fully comprehend their vile sentiments toward me, and looking back, that may have been a blessing. It was a small blessing, and one that lasted not even into my sixth year, unfortunately.

That was when my mother discovered my talent for music.

Up to that point, my foalhood had been a relatively peaceful, if lonely, affair. The veiled hatred of my mother, the icy dismissal of my father, the cold and distant professionalism of the maids and the rest of the staff within the Melody Family manor. I'd been entirely oblivious to all of it, or perhaps I should say that such treatment was all I knew. I was rarely allowed beyond the manor's walls, and even then, I was kept at leg's length from anypony and everypony that approached my family.

Whenever I wasn't studying noble etiquette or basic education, I spent all of my time locked away in my bedchamber with only books from my mother's private library to keep me company. And when I say “locked away” I mean that quite literally. I had no control over whether I was allowed to leave my room or not, but that in and of itself didn't bother me overmuch. I had my books and that was enough for me back then. I was a contrite and obedient little filly, content to take abuse without so much as a peep.

I had no basis for how a foal should be raised, and only realized just how terribly I'd been treated in hindsight. And it didn't take long for that painful truth to set in, either. The transition from my life of quiet isolation to the focus of my mother's ire and ambition was a startlingly quick one. I was sheltered from her violent rages for five years, never knowing the true depths of her madness as I sat in my room, drowning my young mind in horror stories and murder mysteries.

I'd never been a happy foal, but for the first five years of my life, I was content to be left alone with my books. And then came the third month of my sixth year. That was when I was made to understand just how dark and twisted the world could be. That was when I learned of my mother's madness and cruelty. That was when I realized that horror stories weren't always just terrifying tales of fiction.

And throughout the rest of that year and well into my tenth, I discovered just how beautiful and painful music could be. I also discovered that, in a way I'd never realized until it was too late, I was very much my mother's daughter.

It all began, as many squabbles between nobles do, with impugned honor and bitter family rivalry. Before I explain, it's important to understand that in Canterlot, there is a caste system within noble society that divides nobles into two different classes. There are the noble houses that hold political and economic power, like the royally tied Bluebloods and the judicially powerful Chimes.

They are the top of this small caste within a caste, leaving the noble families who gained their wealth through the arts and sciences at the bottom. This includes musically talented families like mine and the Bulwarks, a family of renowned shipwrights. We were all considered minor nobility, but the minor nobles far outnumbered the higher noble houses.

This, naturally, led to far more feuds as minor noble houses in similar professions inevitably butt heads over one matter or another. More often than not, the matter was trivial, and the feuds were nothing more than temporary little spats that lasted maybe a month at most. But that wasn't always the case, and some feuds lasted for years—even ending in a blood debt in some rare cases.

My story truly began as a result of one such ongoing feud between the Melody and Euphonia families. House Euphonia had a similar structure and rank to my own, with two key differences. While House Melody was comprised primarily of talented string instrumentalists, House Euphonia was mostly made up of accomplished pianists. The second difference was that, unlike House Melody, the members of House Euphonia weren't averse to intertribal marriages—far from it.

The ponies of their house consist largely of pegasi, but you'll find plenty of earth ponies and unicorns that share Euphonia blood. For those not in the know, musicianship for any pony tribe other than unicorns can often be a struggle. Anima tactus helps, but tactile magic, while inherent to all tribes, is difficult to master, no matter what type of pony you are. By that metric alone, the Euphonia Family was incredibly impressive.

More than even their tactile skills and prodigious talent with the keys, it was House Euphonia's sheer tribe diversity that made them famous among other nobles and musicians. Normally, most noble houses took a view similar to the Melody Family in that they tended to marry into their own tribes, so this was—and still is—seen as a novel amusement to some nobles and deliciously scandalous to others. My mother, then still the Head of House Melody, hated them for this.

Her bigotry often caused unwarranted conflict between our houses, and we'd already become bitter enemies by the time I was born. I wasn't privy to any of this, and would likely have remained blissfully ignorant of the whole affair for years to come, had it not been for one inciting incident. The wife of House Euphonia's patriarch, by complete coincidence, just so happened to give birth to a pegasus colt on the same day that I was born. This in and of itself wasn't an issue, but the colt's apparent talent from an impossibly young age was.

The colt, Legato Euphonia, was a true wunderkind, showing unbelievable growth in his use of anima tactus. That, in turn, allowed the foal to grow incredibly proficient in his piano skills. It's said that, by the age of three, Legato Euphonia was already as good as a student four or five years his senior. All the while, I was forbidden to even approach my family's hallowed collection of custom-made chordophones.

In short, Legato was, by all accounts, well on his way to becoming the most prolific pianist the Euphonia Family had ever borne. Hushed whispers within the lower aristocracy would even herald him as the greatest musician since my mother in her prime. Needless to say, Septima Melody did not approve. Not one bit. It didn't help that the patriarch of the Euphonia Family would boast of his son's musical prowess at every high society gathering he went to.

This cycle of boasting, bigotry, and bickering between our houses would go on for the next few years without my knowledge. That is, until I was dragged along to a meeting between the Heads of House Melody and Euphonia one cool autumn evening. I had turned six a scant couple of months before, and my mother's initial excuse for bringing me along was to make my debut in high society.

It wasn't exactly the worst lie, all things considered. After all, I was still groomed to be a fine young lady of nobility, despite my incarceration within the family manor. I never particularly cared for the lessons given my teacher's frosty attitude, but they served me well. I never discovered what the pretext of this meeting was, but I was at least old enough then to realize something wasn't quite right.

Trotting amongst the family and staff of the Euphonia Family manor, I caught several pairs of eyes. Eyes full of confusion and curiosity, eyes full of disdain and hostility, eyes full of distrust and dishonesty. Many ponies gave me and my mother cold and calculating looks, sizing us up. Trying to guess our angle. I felt like a rabbit amidst manticores. Still, I obeyed mother and acted the prim and proper daughter she expected me to be.

I paid little attention to the sharp barbs hidden within the idle pleasantries my mother and the Euphonia House head, Rubato Euphonia, shared as we made our way to our destination. I was too enamored by the wondrous étude that had caught my ear as we reached one of several piano rooms. I'd heard snippets of beautiful pieces played on string in my family's manor, but this was something different. Something new. My mother sneered, calling the notes that wafted from within the piano room, unrefined.

Her words were tightly restrained, of course. If she'd said what she really thought, I'm certain we'd have been thrown out of the manor on the spot. Besides that, she wasn't entirely wrong, looking back. The music was coming from a foal—a supremely talented foal, yes, but a foal nonetheless. A foal who still had many years to perfect his craft. That wasn't something I understood back then. All I could hear was sweeping arpeggios and pitch perfect chords that took my breath away.

I'd heard music before, but until the moment we finally stepped into that room and the sound fully washed over me, I'd never actually listened. The piano room itself was small and relatively sparse as far as decorations, but the matte black petite grand piano that was its centerpiece more than made up for all the unused space. Sitting hunched over that piano, sweeping his hooves over the keys like his life depended on it, was none other than Legato Euphonia.

The pegasus colt was rather tall for his age, roughly half a head taller than I was at the minimum. Beyond that, his features were relatively unassuming—from his tawny brown coat to his lighter, sandy brown mane and tail. One other thing I noticed from where I stood were his eyes. They were a cold, almost metallic blue, and burned with a passion for what he was playing. His expression was intense, focused entirely on the keys, the notes they produced, and nothing else.

It wasn't the colt himself that kept me captivated, but his passion for what he was doing and the melodious fruit that passion had borne. I don't remember how long I stood there beside my mother and Legato's father. For what might've been seconds or minutes, I was completely oblivious to whatever discussion was taking place between the two adults. Much like Legato, I couldn't be bothered to listen to them, not while my mind was so ensorceled.

Had I bothered to pay a bit more attention, I would have realized just how heated the discussion between those adults would become. I would have known much sooner about the deal that was struck as a result of that heated discussion. Though, it surely wouldn't have mattered in the end. Ultimately, my mother would storm out of the Euphonia Family manor, dragging her scared and confused earth pony daughter behind her.

And so, I was torn from my reverie, forced to return to the Melody Estate without ever having spoken to the colt who'd opened my mind to the wonders of music. He hadn't even known I was there, and even as mother pulled me away, he never once took his metallic blue eyes away from those keys. I wanted so badly at that moment to feel that same drive, that same passion that Legato felt for his music, but such a thing wasn't meant to be. Not then. Not yet.

Before that, I would come to know intimately the reality kept hidden from me until now. Innocent wonder turned to grim foreboding as my mother and I rode the coach back home. A dangerous silence hung over the carriage like a pitch-black thunderhead. I sat across from my mother, whose severe features may as well have been carved from stone. I wanted to ask why she seemed upset, but a primal fear kept my mouth shut the whole way back.

Once we'd returned home, mother wasted no time in introducing me to the cellar I'd never known we'd had until then. I cried out as my mother forced marched me through the halls, out into the garden around the back of the manor, and toward the bulkhead door that led down into the cellar, but I was a ghost for all the good it did. Nopony stopped us. Nopony asked any questions. Nopony so much as looked in my direction.

We entered that dark and dusty place alone and unmolested, my mother and me. And once that cellar door slammed shut and the enchanted wall sconces burst to life, I realized, even through my terror and confusion, that I'd been blind. Young as I was, I understood on some level that I knew nothing of the world's cruelty. I also understood then, that I would soon learn well that cruelty, and that the lesson would come at the hooves of Septima Melody.

What once might have been a storage space fit for the most avid of antiquarians, now lay in absolute ruin. Paintings, dressers, armoires, books, antique chairs and tables, porcelain dishware, and so much more. It all lay broken, cracked, burnt, shredded, and scattered across the cellar floor. I would've called it a sight akin to a natural disaster, but that would've been wrong.

Even at my age, or perhaps because I was so young then, I could tell this had all been deliberate—the brutal savagery of a creature enslaved to their uncontrollable fury. I hadn't needed to comprehend the origin of the many dark stains smeared across the floor, as well as the torn and crusty rags strewn among the chaos—rags that had likely been designer outfits of the finest make once upon a time.

No, the consideration of those implications would come later, and they weren't needed regardless. I knew full well the danger I was in, but what could I do? I was a simple foal. An earth pony foal. I had no power. I had nopony willing to help me. I had nothing. I cried and screamed and tried to pull free of my mother's magical grasp, but all that did was further fan the flames of her wrath.

I knew deep down what was about to happen, I just didn't know why, but Septima Melody would tell me. She would make the reason for her wroth all too clear as she hurled me bodily into a pile of broken and splintered wood and glass and porcelain. She ignored my wails as she screamed about what a disappoint I was until her throat was raw. She lamented my birth, cursed my name, made sure to beat my inferiority into me.

That I shared my rotten earth pony blood with such a prestigious family was a crime, and this was my punishment. And the tirade went on and on and on for what felt like one agonizing eternity. I'll spare any further details of what happened in the cellar that night, but suffice it to say, I learned firsthoof why my father kept unicorns who knew powerful healing magic on the family's payroll.

My mother could have killed me that night. I know she wanted to, and I know that she very well might have, had it not been for the deal she'd made with Rubato Euphonia. It was more of a challenge, really. Legato was Rubato's youngest son. His wife had borne him an older brother and a sister before that. While not nearly as talented as their youngest sibling, the two older siblings were outstanding pianists in their own right.

This meant that there was plenty of talent to go around within the Euphonia Family. And then there was me. I was the only foal born to my mother, and she never had another after me. Neither she nor my father ever told me why, but as I grew older and learned more about my mother's past, I formed my own suspicions. I had aunts and uncles and several cousins who would come to visit often, but as far as immediately family went, it was just me, my parents, the maids, the butler, and the rest of the hired staff at the manor.

I was the one and only daughter of House Melody—the only one who would one day inherit the family's name and fortune. The idea infuriated my mother, and I would continue to feel that ire and hatred in every action Septima Melody took against me from then on. That night, there in the cellar, marked the end of my innocence, and the beginning of a nightmare from which there was no escape.

Needless to say, I was now terrified of my mother. I wanted nothing to do with her. I wanted to escape the manor, to run away and never look back. I wanted to run back to the Euphonia manor and beg them to take me in. I wanted to hear more of Legato's breathtaking refrains, to drink in his passionate fervor as he completely immersed himself in the music, but it wasn't meant to be. My family's manor became a gilded cage and my mother was the warden.

I either learned absolute obeisance, or spent yet another night in the cellar with Septima. That was my ultimatum, and for me, it wasn't a difficult choice to make. Once my mother was certain I understood, she finally revealed to me the deal she'd struck with the Euphonia Family patriarch. In essence, there was to be a grand contest in one month's time between myself and Legato to determine the most talented musician out of the two of us.

The contest itself would take place in a public venue and was free for all nobles to attend—a suggestion made by Rubato in an obvious bid to humiliate my mother, and she knew that, but she accepted anyway. Her arrogance and ego wouldn't allow the mare to do otherwise. And if I didn't come out on top, my mother informed me in no uncertain terms that I wouldn't live long enough to regret my loss.

And so, it was with that lovely incentive hanging over my head like the hoof of the Pale Horse that I was tossed headfirst into an impossible challenge—or so I believed. It was with that same promise of retribution that Septima bestowed upon me my very first cello. And for a moment, I very nearly forgot about the impossible stakes as I took hold of that beautiful instrument. I nearly forgot about the pain and the terror, and all my worries about what the future might hold were washed away.

But only for a moment.