The Master Cellist

by Veridian Phantom

Rating: everyone
Tags: Comedy, Romance, Octavia, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 17602

You work in a small music shop is Manehattan, when one day a curious black-maned gray mare walks in.

[2nd person staring Octavia and you]

You work in a small music shop in Manehattan when one day a curious black-maned gray mare walks in with a problem, you quickly fix it, but end up with plans by the end of the night. Is that even possible? no way life can be that good...

Read and find out :)

Credits: DjMidli for proofreading, and MASSIVELY making me change my story xD
Derpalicious for proofreading.
CptOfTheFriendship on deviantart for his one-cello picture i modified in gimp.
Shadowswipe for ideas.
Kiwiscarebearkawaii for co-authoring.
Inspiration: Whirring Gears' Room 213

Published 2012-08-14 10:54:01 UTC
Last updated 2015-07-30 16:46:55 UTC

A Chance Encounter?

“Thank you, come again!” The stallion you just serviced had bought a flute for his son, you were more than happy to give it to him 25% off. Birthdays only come once a year after all. It was customary of your family to give discounts for birthdays, your shop's popularity and customer count had increased drastically because of that, thus the revenue gained from selling your wares were what kept your business going for so long.

You owned a music shop in Manehattan which your father used to own, and your father's father before him, it was pretty much a tradition that the son was next-in-line to own the shop and run it. One problem stood out though, actually having a son to be next-in-line.

You groaned out loud to yourself having remembered that your father thought you may be a homosexual, he even confronted you about the matter and had arranged a meeting with your neighbor’s daughter, it's not that you hate mares, or didn't want to be with one, you just have a tiny problem with actually approaching one and starting up a conversation.

Sighing to yourself under your breath, you continue on with your work. Simply awaiting the next customer. 'Boring day as usual.' The shop was pretty generic, basic flutes, trumpets, cello's, pretty much all orchestral instruments with the occasional few that were from different cultures you think are really neat. The floor space was small with two 'aisles' so-to-speak, with instruments littering the walls and accessories on the aisle racks ranging from reeds, to extra parts, to straps. There was a counter in the back of the shop which you worked behind, and a door behind it leading upstairs to your apartment, the rent was cheap and work was close to home so it was an ideal place to work/live. Although the walls were becoming a little run-down so perhaps it was time to invest in new drywall.

Of all the instruments in your shop, the cello had a certain 'tune' to it that you just adored. Something about it made your ears ring with pleasure. Every music shop owner before you had a specific instrument in stock with all the amenities and extras to that specific instrument. Yours was the cello, so following suit you carried top-of-the-line cellos, bows, bridges, pretty much every part of the cello. You even carried a custom one in the back which was signed by the original maker, Andrea Amareti. The cello in back has grown dusty over the years seeing as you had less and less time to play. Owning a shop is no small task.

'One hour until closing, come on one hour...' Time seemed to crawl whenever it got to that last hour of the night. However, time could not foresee what was about to take place, just after the clock struck one minute after seven, a black-maned, gray mare walked in carrying what looked to be a cello case on her back. The cello case had a gold plate on the top which read something, but it was hard to make out what was inscribed on the top, considering she was carrying the case on her back. Your eyes dropped down from the case to the light purple eyes of the gray mare, your heart pounding as you wondered what a beauty what doing in your small shop.

'woah, she's pretty, oh dear Celestia what do I do? If she asks me something I may freeze and lock up! Don't ask, just browse, don't ask, just browse!' Sure enough she walks straight up to you.

“Good Evening. Do you do repair work on instruments?” The mare asked.

“Uh...d'I... uh, what?” Your mind jumped back and forth stumbling for the right words, your heart-rate increasing by the second, a small sweat bead forming on your temple.

“Sir, do you repair instruments?” She has a slight edge to her voice.

“Y-yes we-I mean I do. D-do you need that cello repaired?”

“No... I just need you to look at it... of course I'd like it repaired” She rolled her eyes at your last comment.

Sighing to yourself quietly you decide it's better to talk to her as if she were one of your stallion friends. 'All I need is twenty seconds of insane courage, and I can do anything.' Convinced that you have pulled yourself together, you clear your throat, and open your mouth.

“I'm sorry for earlier, I'm just not used to beauties entering my shop. Now then, let's have a look.” You thought you saw a faint red tint form on her cheeks. 'Wow that was insanely straight-forward of me,' shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you continue on with the conversation.

She places the case on the counter that barely has enough space for it. You turn the case around, clicking open the straps, clearly forgetting the name plate you open the case slowly. The contents inside stun you to your very core. It was magnificent, it had been hand-carved by a master craftsman. The strings were of top quality string imported directly from Whindia. The wood was of spruce at the top, with maple on the back, side, and neck. The cello uses ebony tuning pegs and the bow, sweet Celestia, was made of brazilwood. This cello is much like the one you have in the back, however it seems one of the tuning pegs was busted out of place, much to your amusement, your cello uses ebony pegs as well.

“T-this is beautiful, by my mane, how did you obtain such a masterpiece?” Your eyes gleamed, as you awaited the answer.

“My family are all musicians, so we get only the best. I come from a wealthy family history, so ordering instruments like this is not hard. But this was my mother's cello, Octave Philharmonica.” Her face lit up at the mention of her mothers name.

'Wait, did she say... Philharmonica?' Closing the case, you slowly turn it back around to get a look at the name plate. Etched on the gold plate is the name Octavia Philharmonica. 'Holy sweet Celestia, it's her... The Master Cellist!' Your heart kicked into over-drive, your mind couldn't process who was right in front of you. Beads of anxious sweat forming above your eyes.

Throughout history the only ponies that ever had the title have been the Philharmonica's. The Master Cellist was defined as being not only the best, but a prodigy who had gone above and beyond all expectations to bring about a new age through a new music style or genre with the cello.

“Uhm, sir? You there?” She waved a hoof in your face to bring you back into reality.

“Y-y-you're Ph-Philharmonica... The Master Cellist.” Your voice, studdering and soft, as you fell back on your haunches to the seat behind you.

“Yes, yes I am. Are you okay? You don't look good...” She sounded a bit edgy and worried. “Listen I don't have a lot of time, I really need this fixed before my next performance, can you do it or not?”

Shaking your head violently and slapping yourself to snap out of your daze, you stand up and lock the case.

“Of course I can, you just took me by surprise is all. One question, why are you in my shop? I'm pretty sure someone of your caliber would be in a higher-up shop, or have custom ordered parts.” Inside you were giddy with curiosity and amazement at the sight before you. Your head was less cloudy from the excitement, and your heart rate started to calm down.

“I'll give you the short version, I'm in a bit of a hurry. I was looking around town for a shop that specialized in cellos, I had overheard some people talking about your shop. From what the village people say you normally give discounts and have good quality instruments so I decided to check you out.” Red spots started forming on her cheeks, she begun to open her mouth only muttering out a few 'it's, i's, uhm's' before spitting out a full word. “I-I m-mean the shop, not check you out, t-the shop! I meant the shop...” An awkward moment of silence passed between the two of you, she had tilted her head downwards in an attempt to make it seem like she wasn't there, her hoof clawing at the floor. Your head bent sideways as you cocked an eyebrow. 'why did she try to make that clear? I knew what she meant...' You were the first to break the silence.

“Hmm... I guess that's a good sign? Anyway, give me just a moment, I'll be right back with a spare tuning peg.” Sounding sure of yourself, you walked into the back room to get your cello case with the spare ebony tuning pegs you'd need to fix her cello. They were somewhat hard to obtain and pricey, so it was better you didn't sell them off to random strangers, but Octavia was the one exception.

Returning to the front you lug in a big case, same size as hers, but no name plate. You set the case down just behind the counter and click open the two locks. Inside looked like an almost identical one of hers. Picking out a peg from one of the side pockets you bring it up out of the case, you then lift up the still open case, and lean it against the wall.

Next order of business was to repair it, unlocking the straps, and picking the cello out of the case slowly, you close the lid and set it on top of the case. Removing the old peg, you place it back in and string it up to just the right pitch. Your ears were used to the sound of the cello, so finding the correct pitch was easy.

Octavia looked around the shop at all the various instruments, curiosity got the better of her. All you could hear in the shop was her light humming, and the noise the cello made as you tuned it to the right pitch.

A minute passed since you began your work. You finish up by gently scrubbing and cleaning the instrument where your hoofprints were to give it that final touch-up.

“I'm done fixing it Mrs. Philharmonica” You say with a hearty hum, almost matching her tune.

She lightly giggles at your mock-hum and walks over to pick up her instrument and pay for repairs. Her look went from you to the corner where you had propped up your cello. Her eyes instantly grew wide and darted back-and-forth between your instrument and hers.

“You have a cello that looks almost exactly like mine?” She sounded confused, her facial expression clearly showed it. Her eyes stared you down awaiting the answer, like a hungry wolf watching it's prey.

Low class people of your stature normally didn't have such distinguishing instruments, only two cellos were ever made to this caliber of craftsmanship. The question now was, is this instrument of hers a copy, or the real-deal?

“Yeah, I do. I noticed the similarity earlier, so it was easy to get an ebony tuning peg, and replace it with one of my own.” You couldn't help but grin, feeling accomplished for helping her.

“How did you know it was ebony, I never told you.” She cocked an eyebrow and looked at you with wonderment.

“I'm actually well-versed in the cello, something about this instrument just makes all other music incomparable, the quality of this instrument surpasses even the princesses powers. My family for generations has owned this shop and kept it running, each with their own specific instrument that they specialized in. Mine is the cello such as my father's was.” You smiled with pride towards your father and the work he's done for you and the shop.

You lost sense of time as you stared off into the distance, remembering your father, you gaze unintentionally at her light purple eyes. You were quickly reminded that she was there by the sound of two hooves clapping together, clearly she knew you were lost in space.

“I've not met anypony else that could play the cello well, and fix it. Let alone have one similar to mine, what's your name, shopkeep?”

You give her your name.

“Ah I see, well nice to meet you, as you already know I'm Octavia.” She smiles and courtly bows her head.

You smile and your cheeks turn red, you turn away for a moment hoping she doesn't notice. Judging from her light giggling and fanciful expression, she noticed.

Regaining your composure you proceed with returning the cello carefully back into its case and locking it up, you do the same for yours but keep it leaning against the wall.

“How much for the repair?”

“Uhm, considering it didn't take long, it's you, and the part was on spare, how about five bits?”

“Only five bits? But that's way too generous, I couldn't possible steal away an almost-free repair from you.” She was concerned for your well-being, something pushed her into giving you full price as opposed to accepting the generous offer, but you would not budge.

“Okay how about, five bits and a date?”

Her eyes grew wide once again, she clearly wasn't expecting that. 'What are you thinking you dumb dolt, you JUST met her...' Silence goes between the two of you for a few moments before she decides to speak up.

“Sure, I'll go on a date, but promise to bring your cello?” a half-smile formed on the right side of her face.

“Did I hear that right? You said 'yes'?” You thought your ears might have been plugged and you heard it wrong. You couldn't bring yourself to accept that she just said yes out of the blue.

Octavia looked quickly around the room, when she spotted the clock behind the counter she gasped and again, looked wide-eyed. 'She must love doing that.'

“What's wrong?” You inquired to the worried mare.

“I'm going to be late if I don't hurry. I'm sorry to dash out like this, but here's my contact card, and the five bits. I'll be expecting your call, but only after ten okay?” She smiles and runs out of the shop.

“Okay!!” You belched out but quickly withdrew the word seeing as she couldn't hear you anyway. On the counter sat a card with her name and number on it. By the looks of things, it was a business card, probably for parties, galas, or other 'gigs' one could think of.

It didn't matter, all you know is, you've got a date with a pretty mare, who has an almost identical cello, and is The Master Cellist.

Music is Magic

The Next Morning

Beep Beep Beep Beep

“urrgh...” The dreaded alarm clock, you wish you could take a hammer to it.

Smacking your lips you make an attempt to sit up. Heaving once, heaving twice still no luck. Rolling on your side and lifting yourself up sideways is much easier than straightforward. looking at your clock the time reads 10:22 AM. Being groggily tired you pay no mind to it.

PING

“Oh no, ohhhh no! Drat, darn, curses, kill-me-now.” Hurrying out of the warm bed you stumble across the room towards the bathroom. Removing your toothbrush and toothpaste from the drawer, you place them on the counter and proceed to turn on the shower. Scrubbing down your teeth like a madstallion you quickly hop into the shower and cringe at it's cold touch. The shower quickly warmed up and your fur was soaked head-to-hoof. Without much time to spare you wash, lather, rinse and jump out. Grabbing a towel you wipe yourself down, take out a blow drier and finish up.

The time now reads 10:34 AM. Crashing down the stairs you reach for the phone, pull out the card next to it with Octavia's number and give her a call.

Beedle Beedle Beedle *Click*

“Good morning, Octavia speaking.” Sounds like she just woke up.

“OhdearCelestiai'msosorryIforgottocallwhenIshould've!”

“Wha-?”

“IoversleptandIdidn'tmeantopleasedon'thateme,don'thateme,don'thateme!”

“Calm down...”

“ButnowyoupickedupthephonesoImaynotbetoolate,youdidsoundsleepy-”

“Calm down!!” She huffed and puffed into the phone, you could hear her breathing loudly.

“Sorry...” Your voice was just above a whisper. She let out a small sigh on the other end.

“I assume you're calling about the meeting I proposed yesterday?” Her tone sounded like she wasn't too impressed with you so far.

“Mhmm, yeah.” Your hooves are rubbing against one another like you're a schoolyard filly talking to your crush.

“Hmm, would you be able to make it to the address on the card in about two hours?”

“Y-yeah of course! I'll be there, I wouldn't miss it for the world!” Your face was covered in a grin ear-to-ear.

“Quaint, just remember to bring your cello okay? Don't forget it!” She raised her voice up an octave to get the message across.

“Okay.” With that she hung up, and you were giddy with joy. The day just got a whole lot better in no-time at all.

It'd be best to start getting your instrument ready now, seeing as you haven't played your cello in a very long time, it needed a good cleaning. The first step was to get a face cloth, and the special wax finisher your father left you. Next are other items like a soft-bristled brush, and some instrumental soap.

After obtaining all the necessary cleaning supplies, next up was the instrument itself, bolting up to your room, you open the closet containing the instrument, bring out the case and rush back downstairs to your living room table. Placing the case on the table you flip it around and click open the locks. Your eyes gaze upon the sight before you. You run a hoof along the finely grained and master crafted wood, the feeling of having it once again in your hooves was nothing short of extraordinary.

First you take the cloth and dab it in a bit of liquid soap, wetting it, you bring the cloth down to the surface of the wood, slowly running it across with ease. You begin with the top, migrating over to the sides and bottom, with that finished, you grab your secondary face cloth and begin to dry it off on all sides. With the body finished you do the same to the neck and head, once done you work with the strings. Completing the clean, the last task is to polish the cello following the same pattern you did with the soap.

Content with your newly polished and cleaned instrument, you hoist the equipment out of the case and stand it up in the playing position, gathering your bow you hold the cello steady and run the bow across the strings, the sweet hum of the instrument flows into your ears and produces the sound of excellence and amazement in your head. Your heart starts beating more quickly to the tune that comes forth from gliding the bow along the strings.

“Ohh... Sweet Celestia, that sound.” The seductiveness in your voice adds to the mood of the instrument. Your body starts to feel weak, lightheaded, and ready to just give out, the magic in the music is too strong for someone as inexperienced as yourself.

“Woaah...” Snapping back to reality, you had totally forgot that music was much like magic. When someone is inexperienced with music or playing an instrument, they must train themselves like most unicorns do to withstand the pressure or sensations of the music. Ponies not trained to last through it may become weak, lightheaded and clumsy, they may also become drunk on music. Music is a powerful being. Through experience and hard-training, only then can one overcome its intoxicating powers.

You looked up to your clock, with still half an hour left to spare, you lock up the case, lean it against the wall at the door and head downstairs. Today you took the day off and closed the shop to prepare for your day with Octavia, the thought of her entered your mind, you hooves started to rub against each other again like a schoolyard filly, a faint red shine encompassed your cheeks.

'I hate this suspense, the waiting, gee willikers Batpony this is taking forever!' Inside your thoughts behind the counter, you hear a faint tapping on the window outside. Returning to reality, you get up off the chair and make your way over to the window. You watch the small filly smile with glee now that she has your attention. You point to the sign that reads “Closed” hanging from the door of your shop, you hate to turn away from a customer, but today is your day off. The small filly's smile lowered and her expression changed to sad. She turns around and starts to walk away, seeing the small filly sad broke your heart to pieces. You unlock the shop door and call out to her.

“Hey, wait!”

The small filly's smile returned and she ran over to you as quick as her little body could move.

“Heya Mister, can I buy a cello from you?” Her hopes were now all on you.

“Sure, come on in, but don't tell anypony okay? This is just for you.” Whispering the words as if to make a playful game of this, you walk towards the left wall of your shop as you walk in and proceed to take down a beginner's cello. You gather up all the necessary pieces and place them on the counter of the shop.

“So uhm, I didn't catch your name.” You ask with a hearty smile on.

“Veronica Amareti.” She replied just as happily as your smile was, clearly she was grateful for you helping her.

You stop dead in your tracks, slowly turning around to look at the filly you gaze into her eyes to see if there's even a hint of a lie. Sadly your skills in this matter are null and you can't tell.

“D-d-did you j-just say...” You gulp down the lump in your throat. “Amareti?” Your eyes didn't budge from the filly in front of you, not letting her escape your glare.

“Y-yes I did. Mister you're scaring me.”

Your eyes grew wide and you fell back onto the counter, your front hooves preventing you from falling to the floor in surprise.

“Uhm, Mister? You okay?”

Regaining some composure as to not completely humiliate yourself, you stand back up and attempt to clear your head before replying to Veronica.

“Y-yeah you just took me by surprise is all.” You awkwardly giggle to yourself out loud.

She tilts her head to the side and cocks an eyebrow with an expression that says you may have lost it.

“Ahaha...haaa. Shall I ring up the items? The total for everything is 70 bits.” Awaiting the payment, your thoughts begin to wander, what was someone as renowned as her doing here? Where are her parents? Why is she buying from you? This is becoming an off week very quickly. You muse to yourself.

Veronica sighed to herself in disappointment.

“I'm sorry, but I don't have 70 bits, I don't have any money actually. I was hoping to work off the cost, if you'd allow me.”

Your jaw dropped to the floor, your eyes popped out of their sockets, shock set in slowly as you heard the words repeat in your head. I don't have any money, I don't have any money, any money.

“No money? You're from the famous family that invented the cello right? Are you the daughter of Andrea Amareti or not!?” You raised your voice from sheer shock, unwillingly scaring the little filly.

“Y-yes but... but...” She looks down at the floor, tears welling up in her eyes.

“But?” You craned your head forward awaiting the answer.

“I-I ran away!!” She screamed.

This would've shocked you to your very being, but having heard so many shocking things today and yesterday this bit of news had no effect.

“Why did you run away?” You genuinely care for the well being of such a well-known family. Perhaps this little filly had something bad happen to her? The best you can do is offer help.

“Everypony in my family always tells me to be something I'm not. They all want me to practice everyday at every chance I get, but I don't want to! I love the cello, but they force me to practice and be better. If I don't get the practice done right, they give me evil looks like I'm not trying hard enough. They're all big meanies, so I ran... It wasn't fun, I wasn't allowed to play with anyone, or go to school like all the other fillies.” The tears form into streams and flow down the sides of her cheeks like a river.

Feeling heartbroken from such a story you kneel down to her height and look her straight in the eyes.

“Unfortunately I have someplace I need to go, and it's very important I be there.” You say softly. You look up at the clock and notice you've only got ten minutes left before you need to be there. The ride by carriage only takes three minutes, so you've got time. “Tell you what, why don't you stay here for the time being, I'll let you into my apartment, I won't be back until later this evening. Help yourself to food in the fridge. You're welcome to practice your cello.”

She gives you an evil look.

“I-I mean practice if you want to.” You let out a very apologetic laugh, hoping she will forget your little blunder.

“I like playing the cello. Just not with those high expectations everypony wants of me.”

Letting out a small sigh, you walk towards the door behind the counter and allow her entry into your apartment. Getting a quick look at her, she doesn't have a cutie mark yet, and she has the same coat color as Octavia, difference being her mane is colored dark blue, her eyes are the same color as her mane, making for easily distinguishing features.

“Veronica, please don't make a mess, and the door to the shop will be locked, this door will not be, you can look around. One thing I ask you do not go into is my room. Okay?” Your emphasis may have only peaked her curiosity, but hoping she listens you leave it at that.

“Okay Mister, thank you.” She walks into the apartment and gasps. She immediately runs all over the place admiring the work you've done, the various cellos and parts all around. She runs into the kitchen and then towards the living room, and back to your kitchen. “This is it?” She asks, genuinely concerned about the small living space.

“Well y-yeah... I'm not exactly from a wealthy family like you are.” Did she just 'zing' me? Pushing your thoughts aside, you turn around and proceed downstairs towards the shop.

“See you when you get back.” Her tone light and soft made your heart melt, she felt like your daughter, if even for a moment.

“See you when I get back.” Flashing a smile you head outside the shop and lock up, hoping she'll be fine. With cello in tow you call out for a carriage.

“Carriage!”

A carriage driver hears your call and comes to a halt in front of you. Putting the cello case on the secondary seat, you hand him the card with the address on it.

“Uhm, bud? You sure about this? You know who lives there right?” The tone was easy to depict, he was concerned for his passenger.

“Yes, and I am expected to arrive there in a few minutes, now please, I'm already late as it is.”

With that the carriage driver rolled his eyes and you were off, the city was pretty basic. Manehattan didn't have too much to brag about. Apartment buildings and shops littered the streets. Although in some weird architectural design, the shops are on the right, and the apartments and housing are on the left of the main street, which you are currently traveling on.

Ponies of all shapes, sizes, and wealth were on the streets today. Some of the higher-up classes had their snouts raised and walked with their eyes closed. How do they know where they're going? You flatly remarked to yourself. Other middle class ponies such as yourself were shopping, mostly in groups. One in particular was in a hurry and bumped into the upper-class ponies mentioned earlier, the two upper-class ponies were being degrading and rude to the middle-class pony. Not that you really cared, but it's the way of life, the proverbial food chain as it were.

A few lefts, and a right turn, next thing you know you're there. Watching the street ponies must have taken up all your traveling time. No matter, you pay the carriage driver his fee, lug the case onto your back, and step off the carriage.

Standing in front of you was a massive mansion, the wall surrounding the estate traveled for at least a kilometer in each direction. The gate is huge, it could easily fit two semi-carriages at the same time. On the gate read: Philharmonica. You've arrived.

Gulp

Music is Magic (literally)

The mansion before you towers above even the tallest of ponies. You step forward to open the gate, but it won't budge, you look around and spot a small silver box with a speaker on it. 'Maybe I have to talk into this?' You thought to yourself.

You cautiously walk up to the silver box and press the little red button protruding from the device.

“Uh-uhm... Hello?”

“Yes, what do you want?”

You jump back a few feet from the invisible voice.

“I-I'm here to see Mrs. Philharmonica, she's expecting me?” Your voice is jittery.

“Yes, well come in. The gate is unlocked.” The mysterious voice replied.

You hear a faint click and an alarm go off to indicate the gate is unlocked. You slowly walk up to the gate, and stand there a moment, unmoving. With a gulp to clear the lump in your throat, you push open the gate. A mess of colors in every direction bombard your vision. The garden on the left featured: Lilies, tulips, and a whole bunch of other flowers you’ve never seen before. The smell from all the different flowers is almost overwhelming, but then, a calm came as your smell sensors picked up on your favorite one, the lilacs. To the right is a path leading towards a white canopy with chairs laid around it, probably for the gardeners to rest for a minute or two.

The mansion however, is a magnificent sight to behold. It looms over the village, easily three stories high. The mansion is of old architecture from the mid 1800's. The stone slabs have cracks in them here-and-there, white pillars connect from the roof to the ground, which are growing vines,wrapping around them. The entrance into the 'palace' is massive, an archway stood above the doorway. The door itself is made of wood, mahogany most likely, and has the crest of the Philharmonica family. The crest is of two ponies in symmetrical form holding cellos, a lion resting on top of the coat-of-arms, and lastly a big treble clef resides in the center of the shield.

The door to the mansion begins to move inward, a small but old pony resembling a butler steps out. He motions for you to come closer. The stallion has a white mustache and a black coat which splits into two pointy parts at the end, his coat is pale white and wrinkly.

You inch closer to the house, you are slightly hesitant in your footing because you feel out-of-place. Much like you don't belong. 'Come on, I must not keep her waiting, just MOVE!' Your hooves respond and start moving more quickly. Your heart beating faster and faster as you get closer.

“Well come now, you don't want to keep her waiting now do you?” He snidely remarks.

“Yes well in your case you may keel over and die before we get to her.” You rebut.

He scowls at you with an evil intention in his eyes.

“Right this way, sir.”

You follow him inside towards the lobby. The lobby is huge, on either side of the room are two sets of stairs that wind up to the second floor. In between the stairs lies a fountain in which water trickles down the sides as to not make too much noise, a very basic fountain. The walls are of the same material as the door, but painted beige to match the ambiance of the chandelier hanging just above the fountain. The chandelier is made of crystal to allow light to pass through it and give the walls an added effect as if in a reflection. The floor below you is made of a unique kind of marble, unsure of its origin you can't name it.

“Right in here, sir.”

‘There it is again, it's like he enjoys pissing people off.’ You think to yourself. “Alright, no need to patronize me.”

The butler leads you to the left and you enter a large room with a fireplace at the back. An abundance of comfortable leather chairs and a couch with a soft throw cover, line the room. The side tables and coffee table are all made from cherry wood. You could see the room is cozy because of the large ornate rug on the floor, covering the cold, hard marble from the foyer.

“My Celestia, it all looks so grand.” You say in awe.

“Ah you've arrived, splendid. I see you brought your cello as requested as well.” A profound and familiar voice called out to you from a seat to the right.

The butler leaves the room and closes the door behind you, leaving you and Octavia alone in the room. Her instrument is propped up against the couch she's sitting on.

“Y-yes as you requested, but why did you want to meet with me?”

“Slow down there, first have a seat.” She waves a hoof over to the couch across from her.

“A-alright.” You're hesitant at first, but you manage to get to the couch.

“The reason I called you here, or rather, asked you to come here, is because of your cello. Do you know of its significance or what it is?” She cocked an eyebrow awaiting your response.

“Uh-uhm, no... no, not really. I know my cello is signed by the maker, but I'm guessing there's more of a reason?” You shift uncomfortably in your seat, her gaze making you more anxious by the second.

She lets out a small sigh knowing this may be the case. She turns in her seat to point to a portrait of a woman who closely resembles Octavia. 'Probably her mother.'

“That's my mother, she had a brilliant mind, she was of the first to discover the power of music. She was the one to discover that it's much like magic. At birth a foal is given the ability to listen to music, but the level of it, is dependent on the foal. For example: some foals may be perfectly fine whilst listening to a piece of music, while others may fall asleep to some pieces. Most of the more advanced songs however just deter young ones away by having their minds go blank and then boredom strikes.

When it comes to playing music, one must be strong enough to withstand its powerful tones and voices. Playing an instrument requires practice, and to feel the movements of the instrument.” She twirls around to face you, and smirks. “Haven't you even wondered why your cello, which is rare, has been signed by the maker, is of the greatest sound, and looks exactly like mine?” She craned her head forward, and raised an eyebrow.

You start to get hotter, a bead of sweat rolls down your face. It's like you're in class and you just failed the exam.

“Is it just me or is it getting hot in here?” You weakly laugh and force a smile.

Octavia just glances at you and replies.

“No, it's just you. Calm down there, I'm not patronizing you or giving you homework to complete.” She's dead serious. The couches made of a darker leather than most gave an unlikeable sound as Octavia re-seated herself with cello in hoof. She shifted her weight to allow for better playing position.

Taking up the bow she runs the piece of wood and string along the face of the cello, allowing for a faint but sad sound. She let's out a small cough, then clicking a button on the table next to her a small disk falls from above the fireplace into the disk player resting above it. She straightens up, closes her eyes, takes in a deep breath, and lets it out slowly. After a few short moments the music begins to play (play music). She follows the first cello heard from the song flawlessly.

You lean your head back, taking in the sweet sounds, humming along to the tune in your head. The beautiful crescendo in the music filling your taste buds to the brim of pleasure. Your mind explodes in the aroma of power emanating from the instrument and slowly falls into a sleepy state. More and more you feel your senses slip away from you. Straining to stay awake only gives you a few seconds more before you finally let go and fall asleep (stop music).

“Hey...” The voice is faint and echoes through your head a few times. It then goes silent, not a sound, nothing. It's pitch black. “Hey...”

'There it is again.' You wonder. 'Am I dreaming?'

A sudden splash of cold water shocks you awake, you jump a good five feet in the air. Panting wildly you look around the room, Octavia and the butler were standing next to you with an empty bucket. You look over to see the couch soaking wet, and your coat as well.

“D-did I fall asleep?” Your voice cracked and it came out squeaky.

Octavia giggled a bit, and the butler smirked then walked out of the room, again closing the door behind him.

“Yes you did, now do you see what I mean by the power of music? This is a piece conducted by my brothers, uncle, and father. All cello players like myself, well my uncle is a pianist, but plays quite well with a cello.” Her pride's showing, it is as apparent to you as it is, that Santa Hooves is fake.

“I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, the song is beautiful!” You try to assure her that you did listen despite falling asleep.

Her expression screamed, not amused.

“Now listen up... go sit over there.” She points to a recliner left that is on the left of the soaked couch. “You fell asleep because the power of that song is too great like I had explained. The reason I called you here is because your cello is the twin to mine.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” Questions start to float into your head like a river, but confusion is only the start of this journey so far.

“I mean, take a look.” She turns her cello around so the back is facing you, and written on the right corner is Andrea Amareti.

“What in the hay? You have a signed one too?” You squinted your eyes to get a closer look. Sure enough the curves around the A's are the exact same as the A's on yours. The only difference is that yours has the signature on the bottom left.

“Now do you see it? Our instruments are of a matched set, these two were the originals played by Andrea Amareti, and my mother Octave Philharmonica. The question I'd like to ask you is, how did you obtain Andrea's cello?” A hint of concern crossed her voice.

Your tongue is starting to get dry, you flick your tongue hoping to get a little saliva going, but to no avail.

“May I have some water please?”

“Uh, can you wait?” She begins tapping her left hind-leg rapidly.

“No, I need water, this is a little much for me to handle all of a sudden.”

Octavia lets out a small sigh and gives you directions toward the kitchen.

The mansion is so big that there are many lefts and rights that need to be taken just to get there. The walls and ceilings were littered with paintings, portraits, and murals. The floor clicks with each tap of your hooves against it, the floor feels chilly and hard. The air is warm from the air conditioning. While observing the architecture you happen upon the kitchen rather quickly, stepping inside quietly you see but one stallion with a chefs hat on.

“Uh-uhm, excuse me sir?”

“Eh, pardon mois? Who is this in mah kitchen?” He rushes towards you, knife in tow. His thick heavy french accent, obviously indicates he's from Prance. He's a griffon, with a sharp beak, brown feathers, white neck, and every other body part a griffon has. His most endearing quality must be that mustache of noticeable french length.

You cringe at the immediate assault from a crazy guy with a knife. He stands there watching you like a hawk, making sure you don't try anything funny.

“I'm just here for a glass of water, please don't kill me!” You duck to the ground and cover your head with your hooves, trembling as the stallion above you holds a knife ready to cut.

“Qu'est-ce que c'est? (what is this). I'm not going to hurt you young one. If it's a glass of water you want, there's a glass in the cupboard below the microwaves, and the water is from the tap. Make it quick.” He resumes whatever it is he's doing and doesn't look back at you once.

The kitchen is a sight to behold, much like the mansion it's big. There are two microwaves lined up in the far corner on a shelf. Two stoves for the master chef. An 'island' in the center for all the chefs to cut things on, with garbage cans in the middle for easy waste disposal. A massive fridge and freezer stood side-by-side in the back next to the microwaves. The walls are all white and blue tiles like in a bathroom, and the floor is marble like the rest of the place. No windows were in the room, but ventilation ducts were all over the room for safe measure. The sink is sitting next to the indoor barbeque which is next to the stove.

Quickly trotting over to the cupboard below the microwaves, you open it, grab a glass and head over to the sink. The steel-grade finish on the sink makes it impervious to rusting from the dirty dishes, and the stink of the barbeque. 'Fancy...' You turn the tap to cold and let it run for a few seconds before diving your glass underneath the stream of water, it quickly fills and you turn it off. You gulp down the last remnants of your tasty drink, the soothing water caressing your throat with the coolness of the ocean.

You place the glass you used in the sink and begin to trot out, before leaving you turn back around and bow to the chef. Giving him a compliment on the aroma of the salt beef he is cooking.

“Thanks again for the drink.”

“EH? Don't worry about it, you're welcome!” The quirky chef replies heartily.

You head out into the hall to return to where Octavia is, you slow down your pace a bit. Hesitant to get back to the 'lesson' that she is giving you. You try to process all the information and things that happened just in the last hour. You have a cello that's her cellos twin, her level of music is far beyond your wildest dreams. Lastly, you no longer think this is a date.

Deep in your imagination you trot slowly through the halls and come to a stop next to a mural depiction of Octavia and her family, the entire wall is covered with a tree diagram of her family, but one spot in the tree is blacked out. Sitting there contemplating what it may mean, you barely notice a sharp scream come from the sitting room where Octavia is.

'This can't be good...' You thought.

Change of Plans...

The halls ring with the sound of your hooves clicking and clacking against the marble floor while you run to the damsel's aid. You screech to a halt in front of the door and wind up your back legs to kick it in. The door ricochets off the wall with a loud bang and promptly shuts itself closed in your face.

“Well that was heroic.” You moaned embarrassingly.

Opening the door slower this time you slide your way through the door and take a survey of the room with your guard up. You find a few objects strewn about and think 'In a fit of rage most likely!' Your attention is then drawn to a far corner of the room where you see Octavia huddled, shaking and hyperventilating. 'Why, what happened?' You wonder.

Panic took the place of chivalry as the mare you look up to is hyperventilating at an alarming rate, you rush over to see her jabbing a hoof in the air towards an object. You peer over the couch to get a glimpse of what it may be, expecting to see a rabid cat, dog, squirrel, anything ferocious.

“Oh for- Really? Seriously? THIS scares you!? An itsy bitsy spider, has you hyperventilating and throwing things around.” Your tone wasn't very comforting towards a mare who almost breathed to death. Suddenly an idea pops into your head. You rush over to your cello case, and click open the locks revealing the masterpiece that is your cello.

“What... are... you... doing. JUST KILL IT!!” She screams bloody murder. You'd prefer to have cat nails on a chalk board than what you just heard.

“Don't worry I'm a professional” You were lying, you had no idea if it would work.

Proceeding to prop the cello up on the couch, you reach into a pocket inside your cello case and bring out a CD with the words “My Song” written on the front. You throw the disk in the CD player and press play to run the first track. Picking up your cello to be ready for the song to start you clear your throat, and eyeball the spider.

“3...2...1” (start music)

The lead begins and you start. The bow brushing against the strings, lets out a slow and soft tune. Your ears perk up to the long remembered song that has always been your favorite. You know that your vocals are going to be a little off because of the lack of practicing over the years, but you do your best.

“Heart beats fast
Colors and promises
How to be brave
How can I love when I'm afraid to fall
But watching you stand alone
All of my doubt suddenly goes away somehow

One step closer

[Chorus:]
I have died everyday waiting for you
Darling don't be afraid I have loved you
For a thousand years
I'll love you for a thousand more

Time stands still
Beauty in all she is
I will be brave
I will not let anything take away
What's standing in front of me
Every breath
Every hour has come to this

One step closer

[Chorus:]
I have died everyday waiting for you
Darling don't be afraid I have loved you
For a thousand years
I'll love you for a thousand more

And all along I believed I would find you
Time has brought your heart to me
I have loved you for a thousand years
I'll love you for a thousand more

One step closer
One step closer

[Chorus:]
I have died everyday waiting for you
Darling don't be afraid I have loved you
For a thousand years
I'll love you for a thousand more

And all along I believed I would find you
Time has brought your heart to me
I have loved you for a thousand years
I'll love you for a thousand more.”

The now (stop music) sleeping spider rests on the floor with its eyes closed and still. Scooping him up you proceed to open a bay window door and rest him down in the garden outside. You hear nothing from the room, no quick breathing, panting, wheezing, nothing. You turn to face your host and her eyes are tearing up, a small spark of a tear rolls down her cheek, and slowly accumulates into a steady stream.

“T-thank you.” Barely over a whisper, the shivering mare rests on the couch exhausted from the ordeal. “That piece is beautiful, very powerful too, where did you learn it?” Her voice louder this time, but still barely audible. She wipes some tears from her face before looking at you, with grateful eyes.

“My mother.” You replied. You trot over to the couch she is resting on and sit next to her. An awkward moment of silence passes before Octavia decides to break it.

“Ah, well. I think I should thank you properly then.” Her cheeks light up red, as she slides closer to you and plants a light kiss on your right cheek.

Your cheeks burn bright red. As well you fidgeted with your hooves like a young kid getting praise.

“W-w-w-well it wasn't a big deal.” Your voice is trembling and you can feel your cheeks growing brighter still.

“I'm terrified of spiders, I guess arachnophobia is what everypony calls it nowadays.” She turns her head away to break eye contact.

You sit there looking at her mesmerized by her beautiful eyes. She's perfectly fit, and her muscle tone accents her curves, her body slender, and her coat beautifully brushed.

She turns her look over to you, and you quickly turn your head in the opposite direction hoping she didn't catch you staring.

“Like what you see?” She teases while giggling.

“I-I don't know what you're talking about.” You reply weakly.

“I saw you staring, it wasn't hard, peripheral vision and all...”

You nervously laugh.

“So... Why did you call me here? I know it wasn't for a lesson... And this is definitely not a date.”

Her eyes grew wide with surprise.

“You thought this was a date? Oh my, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to lead you on.” She says meaningfully.

“It's fine, really. Not what I was expecting, but this is awesome nonetheless.” You rub your hoof along the leathery surface of the couch.

“I suppose it has been fun in a different way.” She does the same as you and rubs her hoof along the couch.

Not even a moment passes and your hooves meet by accident, you both look up at each other and blush maddeningly. Your eyes lock on hers, watching... Waiting... For something to happen. Your heart is pounding a mile a second, the air becomes humid with each others breath, you find it hard to breathe, she doesn't move. The moment passes when you let go and look away, blushing hard.

“I-I-I'm sorry, I didn't m-mean to stare.” You fumble your words and fiddle with your hooves, your heart still beating quickly.

“I-It's fine r-really, I'm sorry as well.” Octavia looks away blushing as hard as you are, smiling like a loon.

'She's smiling? She must have enjoyed it, maybe she feels the same way I do after all! Now to ask her out. Wait. What if she doesn't and she's just smiling nervously from that awkward situation? But then again, she invited me here... Not like I have much to lose... Okay here I go!'

“W-would you like to maybe... grab a bite to eat?” Octavia mumbled.

Silence rolled in, nothing moved. A cricket is heard outside the window, you sit there mouth agape.

“Are you okay? Maybe I shouldn't have said anything, I'm sorry, please just forget what I sai-”

“Yeah, that sounds great!” You blurted out. Your face is covered ear-to-ear in the biggest smile you've ever had.

Her face lit up with sophisticated joy, a smile filled her face to the brim. She looked towards you and locked her eyes to yours to try and scope out any falseness to them.

“Well then, how about tomorrow night, meet me here for seven o'clock, and we'll grab a bite to eat, okay?”

You nod your head at a loss of words and lift yourself off the couch. You look up at the clock located above the table at the far end of the room and notice it's half-past six.

“I'm sorry but I really must be going, I have things to take care of at home.” You let out a small sigh and yawn.

“Time really does fly.” She lightly giggles.

You walk to the front door, bow to Octavia and leave for home, outside the gate you whistle down a carriage to head home. Exhausted by today's events.

The carriage arrives home ten minutes later, you pay the driver and hop off. You unlock the front door to your shop, it's pitch black inside. You make your way through the shop after locking up once again, although you can hardly see, your memory of the shop helps guide you. You get to the back and open the door to your apartment upstairs.

“Who's there?” You hear from the kitchen.

“It's just me, the shopkeeper.” You grunt. Not to be rude, but exhaustion is taking it's toll.

“What were you doing that took you so long?”

You drag yourself into the living room and plop down on the couch facing the blank T.V. Not moving a muscle.

“I was... Out with a friend.” You seem to recall hearing about the current head of the Amareti family being jealous of the Philharmonica's title. So you opted to not tell her who you were with.

“You don't need to lie to me just because of our family history. I know you were with Octavia Philharmonica.” She smirked.

“Uh-I. You're right, I shouldn't have lied.” You say in defeat. “So what were you doing while I was gone?” You ask.

“Explore, not much to see, so I practiced my cello. It's so much fun practicing without people around forcing you to, and yelling if you mess up.”

“True, tru- OH NEIGH!” You scream, frightening the young filly. “I forgot my cello at Octavia's! I'll have to pick it up tomorrow night, I was hoping to play with you... Ergh.” You grunt.

“It's okay, wanna hear me practice?”

“Sure, I'd love to”

She trots over to the practice cello you gave her earlier. Small enough for her, and sounds relatively good. She picks up the small bow and gives it a practice run against the strings. You scrunch your nose at the sound of the instrument.

“It's a little out-of-tune. Need me to tune it?” You inquire.

“No, I got it.” She responds.

She begins to fiddle with the instrument by turning the tuning pegs, she refuses to use the tuner saying she can do it without. Rolling your eyes you comply with her wish and let her be. A minute passes and she finally gets the instrument to sound correct. She takes in a deep breath, lets it out, and points to the CD player, which has a CD she wants you to play. You close the music player and thesong begins. (Start song)

She follows the lead, the song starts sad, with a hint of anger in the stringed instruments in the background, and the piano picks up shortly after a pause. You can see the passion for playing in the young filly's eyes; she plays the cello like a professional, not quite a master, but extremely well.

You start to feel a tickling sensation in your stomach from the power of the piece. The power of music starts to fill the room, nothing but the music can be heard, not a single thing stirred except for the cello in the room. Despite it being a practice cello, the quality of the instrument is still good enough to support a beautiful, if not regularly played piece.

You lie back on the couch, put your head against the couch and listen intently with eyes closed. You tap your hoof to the beat on the hardwood flooring that encompasses your living room. Our of nowhere, you start to smell strawberries. You smile, and feel proud for Veronica, knowing that it is the power of her playing that is bringing the aroma. The couch got immensely more comfortable. Finally, she is finished (stop song); the song came to a slow stop. The young filly stood there panting, the power of the music took its toll on her. She is exhausted and collapses to the ground. You rush over to see if she's okay.

“I did it... I finally finished that piece.” She tried to say in excitement but her voice is coarse and low from being tired. Her eyes begin to close, she can barely keep them open any longer, and she closes them into a deep sleep.

“Shh, shhh. Let's get you to bed Veronica, you played amazingly well. But it's time for bed now.” You whisper.

You put Veronica to bed in the guest bed room and tuck her in. After making one last check around the empty room, you turn off the light, close the door, and head to bed.

“Tomorrow, tomorrow will be... Exciting.”

The Park and Then a Date

The room slowly comes into view, the morning light cursing your eyes with blindness momentarily. The bed, snug and warm keeps you from wanting to get up, but knowing you have engagements to meet today, you force yourself up. The bed creaks a little from the shifted weight, you stretch your back and extend your hooves into the air for a good stretch, yawning the whole time. You groggily moan and wipe your eyes of the crust around them. With a last rub you glance over at the clock and note that it's almost noon. Fully rested and nothing to do, you get up and make for the kitchen, keeping in mind your guest who may also be up.

You arrive in the kitchen and hear clanging of pots and pans moving around the kitchen. Walking inside you look around and the entire place is a mess, total disaster is written all over the room. Egg shells are all over the counters, yolks dripping down the drawers, pancakes are on the ceiling and you’re pretty sure something’s burnt. At the helm of the mess stands a very worried and very happy little filly. Veronica.

“I didn’t hear of a tornado coming through my kitchen this morning on the news,” you jokingly said.

“Morning! I felt like making something for breakfast, but clearly it didn’t work…” She looked down and pouted.

You sighed to yourself and walked over to Veronica still looking depressed she couldn’t help. You place a hoof under her chin and lift her head up to yours.

“Thanks for trying; it’s the thought that counts after all.” You quickly look around to capture what needs to be done. “I’d say it’s time we clean up and then get a real breakfast. Don’t you?”

Veronica looks to you with a smile forming on her face, and quickly nods her head.

It takes you an hour to clean up the mess and scrape the pancakes off the ceiling, a grumbling noise can be heard from two stomachs within the kitchen. Smiling, you begin to set up some bowls, spoons, and you take out a box of Fruit Loops. You pour the cereal in careful not to overfill it and hand it to Veronica with a spoon.

“This is what you eat for breakfast?” She questions.

“Normally, I don't... really... know how to cook.” You smile awkwardly, looking around suspiciously.

Breakfast goes by in silence, the awkwardness of the moment making it harder to concentrate on the events of tonight. After breakfast you cleaned up the dishes, being a gentlepony and cleaning hers up too. Dumping the dishes in you fill the sink with water and a little soap to let it soak and absorb, slowly eating away at the dirty dishes. Grabbing a cloth you wet it down, ring it out, and wipe down the table.

“Hey Veronica, what say we go to the park?” You say excitedly.

“Sure!” She says with a big smile.

“Alright then, how about you go wash up, I’ll wait down here and then we can go.” You gestured.

Veronica turned tail and ran to the bathroom to clean up, a few moments later you hear the shower turn on.

You begin to pace idly around your living room, waiting on the little filly. The date later tonight with Octavia starts to seep into your mind slowly, worrying you about the little things. ‘Hmm, I haven’t really thought of how tonight would go. What should I wear? Will I have proper manners? What if I slip up and say something stupid? Am I even prepared for this? I haven’t even been on a date yet!’ Your heart increases its pace dramatically and you start to feel panicked. A bead of sweat rolls down your face and stings into your eye, your breathing becomes erratic.

Off in the distance behind the bathroom door, you can hear a slight humming. Your ears perk up and your thoughts take a lighter tone as you think of how your mother used to hum to you a piece similar to what Veronica is humming. You feel a calm wash over you, your thoughts mellowing out. ‘But on the other hand, what happens if the date goes well? What’s to say it’ll go wrong? If destiny meant for us to be together then nothing would go wrong, right? I’m sure everything will go smoothly!’

The shower shuts off, and the water ceases to flow. You hear a light stepping from inside the bathroom, your pace deadens and you look over to the slowly opening door. Veronica steps out and slowly walks to the entrance of the apartment.

“What’s with you?” Veronica raises an eyebrow, looking at you curiously.

“N-nothing, ready to go?” You re-direct the attention to her.

“Yup!”

The both of you arrive at the park within 15 minutes, not a long walk fortunately. Veronica’s face widened with surprise and excitement, she has never been to the park before. Like a bat-out-of-hell she ran straight for the play structure, she climbed the monkey bars and slid down the loopy slide. You sat back on the bench and observed the young filly having the time of her life, soon enough she waved you over and hopped on the swing. You walked behind her and started giving her a light push.

“Weeehehehehaha... Wheee,” Veronica is laughing and smiling and having a jolly ‘ole time.

You idly start pushing her, time passing quickly by. It is time to head home to clean up for your big date, Veronica is displeased, but she knew that you’d have to head out for your date at eight.

“What do you plan to wear?” Veronica asks as you and her slowly walk back to your apartment. You're caught off guard as you haven't really gotten that far in your planning.

“I haven't really thought about it. I mean, I’m not sure what to wear on a date, or even if I have something date worthy,” you reply cautiously.

She looks at you carefully, “if you like I could help you choose what to wear?”

“That would be most helpful!”

You and Veronica head back to your apartment early enough so that she can help you pick something out. After she has gone through your closet at least twice, and had you try on several outfits and none she found date worthy, Veronica finally settled on a layered look for you, consisting of a tee-shirt, a black leather jacket, and your two favourite necklaces you never take off showing proudly.

“Do you think I look okay?” You ask again for what seems to be the twentieth time.

“You look amazing,” Veronica replies, “but there’s something missing.”

“What might that be?” you ask all confused. You get even more confused as she prances out of the room and disappears for a while. When Veronica finally comes back, she’s carrying a bouquet of tiger lilies.

“Tiger lilies?” you ask curiously.

“I know that she never mentioned it but she seems like the kind of mare that would appreciate tiger lilies more than conventional roses. So I picked these up for you to give her.”

You are quite surprised at this, “Umm, thanks,” you reply. Next thing you know its 8 and you have to leave for your date. After looking one more time in the mirror, you head out the door.

You’re nervous and excited at the same time, after all, it is your first date. Should I kiss her or not? you ask yourself over and over again. After what seems like ages, you finally arrive at her mansion and knock on the door. The door opens and you step inside. You can’t believe your eyes. Octavia is slowly coming down the stairs in what has to be the most beautiful dress you have ever seen on her. It's a simple design you notice, a plain white dress but still looks elegant, to which she paired a beaded blue necklace and topaz teardrop earrings. Your breath catches in your throat forgetting to breathe momentarily.

“Hello,” she says.

“Hi,” you say back. Did I seriously just say that? Okay, I definitely need a better conversation here, or else this is going to go bad and fast!

“Octavia, I must say, what you’re wearing, it looks...amazingly beautiful on you.”

“I’m glad you like it, it took me so long to decide what to wear. Shall we head out now?”

“Yes, let’s.” As you walk out the door after her, your heart begins to beat really fast, and it won't slow down. When you walk beside her, you feel her hoof slip onto your hoof. Smiling you look at her looking at you with a look that you have never seen before and are not sure what to make of it. You quickly put it out of your mind, however, and are surprised when the taxi-carriage showed up early.

“You actually got us a taxi-carriage?” she asks excitedly.

“Well you didn't think that I would have us walk to the restaurant now did you?”

“Not really, but at the same time, I didn’t think that you would do that for me.”

“Octavia, I’d do anything for you,” you tell her in a soft soothing voice. She smiles back and you get in the taxi-carriage. You whisper something to the driver and the driver starts moving the carriage. You lean back and smile as Octavia leans her head against your shoulder. Smiling you put your fore leg around her and hold her, and chuckle as you realize that she has fallen asleep.

You let her sleep on your shoulder until the carriage stops at your destination. Gently you wake her up.

“We’re here,” you tell her as she opens her eyes. Octavia looks around in wonder.

“Where are we?”

“Look around,” you tell her. As she looks around her eyes grow wide. The “restaurant” is actually a picnic in the park, with a candlelight dinner and the soft sound of a waterfall that can be heard in the distance. Under a tall oak tree overlooking the small hill lies a red and white checkered blanket with a wicker basket on top.

“It’s perfect!” Octavia tells you as she gets out of the taxi-carriage. Smiling, you step out of the carriage and follow her to the picnic area where you had cooked up a nice dinner, consisting of fried chicken, a tossed salad, and a decadent chocolate cake for dessert. You and Octavia eat peacefully in silence and are surprised when she mentions her mother.

“You never mentioned that your mother made chocolate cake,” you tell her.

“I don’t mention my parents often, I was 6 when they died in a shooting.” You notice that she gets a sad look in her eyes as she continues from the beginning. (this story is of her past).

She... Knows my father? You notice she turns away. You gently grab her head and run your hoof gently over her cheek. “It’s okay that you miss them.” You gently wrap your arms around her as she snuggles into your chest, resting her head against your shoulder. I'll tell her some other day, today will be just about her. You think to yourself.

“I ruined tonight didn’t I?” she asks

You turn her head so that she’s looking right into your eyes, “you could never ruin tonight,” you tell her “it still is the way I wanted it to be, which is right by you.”

Octavia smiles at you and gets a playful look in her eyes. Laughing she runs her hoof through the icing of the chocolate cake and smears it all over your face then eats the part of the cake without icing.

“Hey!”

“Oh if you're that mad come and get me then!” she taunts as she runs around as you chase her with icing still on your face. Realizing that you can’t catch her, you go to the river and wash the icing off your face. Leaning a little too far in, you end up falling in the river, thrashing about the weight of the clothing starts dragging you down and sinking you to the bottom of the river. Your mind starts racing Now what will Octavia think? Her parents are dead and now I’ll be dead too all because I can't swim! A bright light can be seen in front of your eyes, a life of trouble flashing before you. Your head starting to pound. As your lungs begin to ache as well, something grabs your hooves and pulls you quickly up to the surface. Octavia begins to panic and starts pressing on your chest hard hoping you wake up.

"Come on, wake up! Come on!" Frantically pressing on your chest harder and harder until you spew out some water, gasping for air.

“Aaaaahhhh!” You open your eyes and see Octavia holding you on the bank of the river watching you closely.

“Are you alright?” she worriedly asks you, as she tows you to the river bank. You feel much better now that your hooves are set firmly on the ground and not in the water.

“I am now,” you tell her shakely, “I just can’t swim that’s all. I fell in trying to get the icing off my face.”

“You could have just used a napkin,” she tells you.

“Oh yeah, I forgot I brought those. I either forget to bring them, or forget that I brought them.”

“It’s okay, I’m just glad that you're safe.” She quickly kisses you on the cheek. Smiling you look her in the eyes.

“What was that for?” you ask her.

“Well I felt like it,” she replies.

“Octavia, will you do me the honor of becoming my marefriend?” Redness envelopes your cheeks.

“It would be my pleasure,” she replies as she kisses you fondly on the cheek

Smiling, you decide its time to head home. Octavia and you talk all the way to her mansion.

“Well, goodnight Octavia.”

“Goodnight, and I really enjoyed tonight.”

“Me too, even if I did end up a little wet, I hope your dress isn’t ruined.”

“This thing? It takes more than water to ruin this dress. Now you have to open the shop early tomorrow so you best be getting to bed don't you think?

“I guess you’re right, night.”

Octavia closes the door and you head back to your apartment above your shop, glad that the night turned out to be a success. Veronica was already fast asleep, smiling you too head for bed and fall asleep.

Veronica's Solution

The curtains burst open and a sudden ray of light strikes your eyes, darting you out of bed alert and awake huffing expecting intruders. You leap into action and begin to attack in front of you. Soon after karate chopping the nearest wall you realize it probably isn't a burglar in your room.

“Veronica...?” A faint groggy tone comes forth with a questioning gaze towards the window while you shake the pain away from your hoof. “Why did you do that?”

“Had to wake you up somehow... Normal conventions don't work. It's almost time to open the shop. You forgot to set your alarm I suppose?”

You glance over at your supposedly off alarm clock. “Oh, Celestia! You're right!” Hurrying around the room, tidying up, taking a look in the mirror to see if everything is in check, (it wasn’t perfect, but oh well) and barreling downstairs to prepare for the day. You begin said day by powering up the lights, dusting off a few instruments and making sure the cash register is operating correctly. Finally after the small preparations are complete you make your way to the storefront to flip the open/closed sign to the open side and unlock the door. Just as you get to the storefront, you see somepony opening the door.

“Octavia? Why are you here so early? Or rather here at all?” You ask, a puzzled look upon your face.

She giggles from your display of awkwardness. “I'm here to have you check over my cello before heading to my show tonight.” She walks right in towards the counter and places the delicate instrument atop gently.

“Uh... Sure I can, yes. Uhm... Considering you're The Master Cellist, how come you can't do it yourself? N-not to be rude or anything I'm just curious as to why have me do it.” You move toward the counter to open the case and begin your inspection of the instrument.

Looking over it quickly with a discerning eye you spot a few scratch marks from traveling and playing the instrument a lot. Testing the strings they sound as they should and twisting the ebony knobs ever so slightly to see if they're in nice and tight. One final check over the instrument ensures it still is in pristine condition and should bring many more years of music before turning its bow in.

“Well I could do it myself... Or come see you and have a practiced music mechanic fix it for me.” She smiles at you as she turns to see who is coming down the stairs from behind the counter.

“Hey, I heard a commotion down here. Already have a custom-” Veronica pauses looking straight at the mare in the shop. “Octavia!!” She yells running to the mare giving her a big hug around her front hoof.

“W-what? Veronica?! What are you doing here?” She turns to you questioningly. “Why was she in your apartment? The police are looking for her!”

“I-I can explain. Just calm down now.” You say worriedly, backing up into the drum shelf. Octavia slowly begins to walk towards you, extremely curious as to what you'll say next.

“Go on. I'm all ears.”

“Wait!” Veronica screams. She darted in between you and Octavia looking her straight in the eyes before continuing. “I'll explain everything! He did nothing wrong. I... I Ran away from home because of what was expected of me and the pressure of my parents... I just couldn't take it anymore, so I wound up here. I've been hiding from the police and my parents.” Veronica continues to explain exactly what she had told you that night.

Right when Veronica finished her explanation two cops walked into the shop. With the usual shop-keep reflex you greeted them before realizing their profession.

“Uh... May I ask why you're here?”

“I'm here to browse your wares for my son, He's quite interested in dru-” He interrupts himself as he spots Veronica to his left. “Wait... isn't that the filly we've been looking for Sam?”

His partner looks the filly mane to hoof as well before responding “Yup, that's her Mugsy.”

The first officer stepped towards Veronica. “You’re going to have to come with us, young lady. Your parents are very worried about you.”

“No! I don’t want to go back, I hate it there!” She says whilst slowly backing up into the various instruments on the wall, Rattling the cymbals and percussion instruments as she bumped into them, some falling to the ground.

“Your parents are worried sick about you, you have to go back. It’s unfair to them.” The cop known as Mugsy repeated.

“Unfair? Try having your entire life planned out for you, and never getting any freedom to do what you want to do!” Veronica yells.

“Look kid don’t give us a hard time, we’re only doing our job.” The cop said pleadingly.

Octavia looks at Veronica with a worried look. “I’m sorry, but Veronica, you have to go back. Explain to your parents why you ran away as I’m sure they’ll listen. If I know your mother like I think I do, I’m sure she’ll understand why you ran away once you talk to her.”

You nod your head in agreement toward Veronica..

Reluctantly, Veronica finally agrees to go with the two cops and leaves the shop to head back home, where a very worried mother and father await. Just as Veronica gets in the carriage Octavia begins to pack up her cello, closing both latches on the case, throws it on her back and heads for the door.

“Where are you going?” You say curiously.

“To the Amareti’s of course.” She replies with certainty.

“Okay and why exactly? I’m sure she’ll be fine like you said. Right?” You start doubting what Octavia said moments ago.

“Don’t you think that if her parents would listen and understand like I had told Veronica that she wouldn’t have to have run away?”

You knew she was right, not thinking about this prior to asking the question. Without hesitation you begin to pack your cello as well, retrieving it from your room. You throw the cello onto your back and make for the door, flipping the open sign to the closed side and locking the door behind you. Both of you make for the sidewalk and hail a carriage over, seconds later one appears before you. Octavia names the address to head to and asserts that the driver be swift.

Arriving at the huge mansions was surprising but considering the family you’re dealing with. It comes as a little surprise to the enormity of their home. The structure itself it quite modern, unlike the Philharmonica’s residence. A giant automatic side-scrolling gate resides in front of a massive grassy garden with a road zig-zagging up to the courtyard. The mansion resides next to the main fountain and the driveway circles around it.

You and Octavia pull up just in time as Veronica is entering the mansion, she hears you pull up and turns to see who the visitors may be. You pay the carriage driver for his time and effort and dismount, careful of the contents on your back.

“What are you both doing here?!” Veronica calls out bewildered.

“Well he is responsible for having let you stay with him.” She says looking over to you. Catching her glance, you do a double-take and look toward the ground scuffing your right front hoof on it sheepishly. “Now then, no point in standing around out here, shall we go inside?” She motions to enter the building.

The both of you follow Veronica inside toward the living room while the butler goes to get her parents. The living room is big but cozy, complete with blanket-covered couches, a recliner, and a very large fireplace. The fireplace features red bricks surrounding it to match the colors of the walls, and white crown molding to match the baseboards and ceiling as if to blend in with the room itself.

“This place looks-” Just as you were to complement the room to cut the silence, two ponies burst into the room, with the butler in tow.

“Veronica!!” The mare yells, most likely her mother, and the father I’m guessing is the other pony. “Where have you been?! We were worried sick about you.” She turns to look at her other guests standing just next to the fireplace. “Octavia?” She turns to face you. “And you… look familiar, hold on... “ She ponder who you may be for a moment before she asks you. “Do you own a music shop by any chance?”

You pipe up at the question. “Uh yes actually, Winstrum’s Instruments.”

The mare’s eyes widen and a smile begins to creep up. “This must be fate calling…” She whispers to herself, barely audible to you and Octavia. “Uh pardon me, allow me to introduce myself. I am Andrea Amareti, an old friend of your father Instrum Winstrum.”

Your eyes shoot open at the notion of a large prominent family knowing of your father, he never really talked about his own life. As if it was unimportant what happened prior. Your mind racing as to what she meant now about fate calling. Was it merely a coincidence?

“Uh… Unfortunately he never really mentioned you at all, or at least I can’t remember.”

Andrea motions for everypony to have a seat on the couches next to the fireplace. Whilst she and her husband sit on the opposite side of the three of you. “Well he had a lot on his mind after all, he took care of you and Octavia on his own. Of course Octavia had us to help too, he raised you on his own. We didn’t really meet with him much or talk, it was merely just to say hello, check on Octavia or bring her things and that was it. As you may know we are also busy with our own little one and our jobs.” She glances over to Veronica and smiles.

You look over to where you placed your cello just before sitting down. “So you made these twin cellos?”

“Yes, I made them so Octavia’s mother and I could perform a duet together, however that never came to be, so I had passed the one you carry to your father in hopes to have him teach Octavia to play the cello. He did wonderfully and now Octavia has her mothers’ cello. As much as I had hoped to teach my own daughter the ways of the cello, she doesn’t seem to like it that much.”

“I-it’s not that I don’t enjoy it, but that it’s constant day-in and day-out nothing but practice, I never get to go out and have fun, and when I make one mistake it’s like the world is coming to an end.”

“That’s why you ran away? Why didn’t you say anything?” Andrea said moving to hug Veronica.

“I tried to say something several times, but none of you would listen!” Veronica yells, starting to get mad, tears forming in her eyes.

Octavia saw this as going nowhere and not getting anywhere quickly, especially since she has a concert to attend soon and must prepare. So she explained a few solutions to the problem: “If I may, as it is not my place, when she was staying at Winstrum’s music shop, she actually practiced her cello but on her own time, and even then as I’ve heard quite enjoyed her little adventure away from home. Perhaps instead of forcing her to practice and not get to enjoy a little fun, go on a family outing once-in-a-while. She will practice on her own time and learn at her own pace, not everypony can handle it.”

What Octavia had said rang true to the Amareti’s ears and agreed upon this method, as well, thought of schooling options so Veronica may make friends instead of having a private tutor. As a compromise it was agreed that Veronica will practice playing and making cellos at her own pace.

“Now then, we must be going. I have practice to attend, and my friend here will be the one to assist me in that matter. will you be coming?” Octavia quickly glances over to you and winks.

“Ah yes, you have your concert tonight, unfortunately we can’t go as we’re quite busy ourselves signing a contract with a major music store in Phillydelphia to sell our cellos exclusively.” Andrea responds.

“That’ll certainly up business, not that you need it.” They both give out a small chuckle before Octavia turns toward the front door. “We’ll see ourselves out. Shall we?” She gestures for you to walk with her.

Heading out the door you both say your farewells, just before you get to the first step of the stone stairway down to the driveway a sneaky hug grabs you from behind, turning to look down you see Veronica is the culprit of the surprise attack.

She looks up to you with her big beautiful eyes and says “Thanks Mr. Winstrum for letting me stay with you and taking care of me, I don’t know what would’ve happened to me if it weren’t for you.” She says with a big smile on her face.

“I believe fate had brought you to me, don’t you?” You let out a small chuckle yourself and smile before moving forward, after Veronica released your back leg, to catch the cab that Andrea had called in.

As you board the carriage you look back at Veronica, still smiling happy as ever. You feel the need to say some wise words to her before she leaves, something that may help her in the near or far future. You yell out to her as your carriage begins to slowly move from trot to run.

“Remember Veronica, everything in life happens for a reason! So remember to persevere no matter what the hardship, because for sure that was meant to happen for one reason or another!” Well, that was the most insightful thing you think you’ve ever said. As the carriage draws farther away your voice echoes through the trees as the wind picks up and leaves begin to fly toward the mansion. Just before exiting through the main gate you barely catch a glimpse of small shining lights falling from her eyes. Tears which reflect the sun's radiance you think to yourself, truly there is something special about her.

Author's Note

It's been a long time, however that was just due to my lack of wanting to continue, especially since I'm displeased with the story being "2nd person" i should've written it as 1st or 3rd however that is long past. It's finally here, the 2nd last chapter, the last chapter will be finished sometime January that i can promise as I wish to FINALLY be done writing this, and either continue on with my music or with finishing an unpublished story i wrote with... *ahem* a friend.

Credits: Smokey Glacier - For bringing me back to finish this, as well editing.

The Master Cellist

The carriage pulls up to the magnificent mansion at last, slowing down to a snail pace in front of the gate as to allow the passengers to depart from the vehicle. You motion for Octavia to get out so you can pay the driver, and exit yourself. You grab the cellos from the back and place them in front of the gate against the red stone brick wall, you press the button to buzz the butler.

A few seconds pass and you buzz it again, this time with a response from the butler.

“Yes…?” His tone showing he’s not amused at the second ring.

“It’s me and Octavia, please let us in.”

The butler pauses a moment, as if thinking who it could be. “Oh yes, you again… Let’s get this over with shall we? I’m a very busy man.”

Your face cockeyed wondering what he’s got against you, as if you angered him last time you met. Turning to Octavia, you ask her what the issue is.

“I honestly don’t know, I’ll ask him a bit later, there’s practice that needs to be done and you’re going to help me, we only have two hours before I have to leave for the concert.”

The gates buzz just before opening horizontally, both of you make your way inside toward the front door where the butler awaits you with an… enthusiastic smile on his face.

“I’m pretty sure that’s a fake smile if I ever saw one,” You whisper to Octavia whilst staring down the butler.

“Oh hush, just try to get along, at least he’s smiling, the last coltfriend I had he acted about the same way but didn’t smile, at least with you he is trying.” She says with a giggle.

“Oh fun, that’s going to be a different struggle altogether, forget about everything else that happened, the struggle is real.”

You both get inside and the butler takes the cellos to the living room, propping them up next to the couches. Making yourself comfortable on the couch while Octavia chooses the adjacent couch. The butler leaves for a moment to the study in the next room and brings a piece of paper and pencil, she begins to jot stuff down looking hard at work.

“So uh… What’cha doing?” Breaking the silence out of curiosity as to what is going on, as you cock your head sideways with a bewildered look.

“I’m writing down where the concert is, how it’s going to be run, and to tell you what seat you’re in. The butler has your ticket.” She replies. A phone rings behind you. “Can you get that for me?” She asks.
Motioning towards the phone you pick it up and stumble for words as to what to answer.

“Hi… er-no, Hello… Philharmonica residence?” You slap a hoof to your forehead. An unknown voice responds with a slight oddity to it. “Am I speaking to the head of the household?”

“Uh, no, Octavia’s busy right now, and I’m her coltfriend.”

“Oh this will make things more interesting then, tell her for me that the end of her performance will happen sooner than expected.” In a dark and grumble-y voice, he hangs up without so much as a chance to respond.

‘You start wondering who that could possibly be, curious as to what he meant. Did he mean the performance was cut in half? Or did he mean… Nooo, no that’s not possible. Does she have enemies?’

“Who was it dear?” She questions without looking up from the paper.

“I-I don’t think it best we go to the concert today.” You say with some hesitation.

“What do you mean…? Who was it on the phone?” She looks up from the paper, places down the pencil and stares straight into your eyes with a cocked eyebrow, now you’ve got her undivided attention.

“Some guy, he didn’t leave his name. He told me to tell you, ‘The end of her performance will happen sooner than expected’, and hung up.”

“So some random stranger makes an idle threat with no demand or leverage to sway me into not going and you get scared? I get threats like that on occasion due to my family’s past. We weren’t always this high and mighty, we had to start somewhere. Now then, I’m thinking-” Octavia gets interrupted midway by another phone ring, this time she gets up and makes her way to the phone post-haste. She picks up the phone with anger and raises her voice.

“Listen here you jerk-off I’m going to that concert whether or not you are, and I don’t really care for idle threats, they sicken me, now stop or I will have to notify the authorities!” Just before hanging up a mare voice sounds and Octavia immediately changes her tone, the conversation goes back and forth for some time.

“Yes I-I’m sorry and I understand, I’ll figure something out.” Octavia slowly hangs up the phone, lost in thought and starting to worry. He eyes dart back and forth trying to figure out what to do.

“Well who was it?” You pipe up, snapping her out of thought.

“That… was my partner, she uh… hurt one of her legs and won’t be able to make it tonight.” She says with grief. “I don’t know what I’m going to do now, the piece I practiced was for a duo.” Her eyes wander over to you and widen, she gasps and a smile begins to form on her face. “I have an idea, why don’t you be my partner tonight?” She pokes at you with a giggle.

“W-what? But I don’t even know the piece you’re playing.” You say pleading to her, not to make you embarrass yourself on stage.

“Yes I admit it may not be professional of me and you don’t exactly know the piece, however you’re always boasting about those playing skills of yours. So let us see some magic!” She says with a jolt in her step, moving to pick up her cello. Casting her silver aura around your instrument she floats it over to the couch and sets it right down next to you, unlocking the latches in the process.

“We shall be playing Bach's last overture. There is sheet music to your left on that stand, try your best to follow it. If you faint, well… You’re not as practiced as you claim.” She says with a smirk. Readying her bow and cello she begins the first set in order to show you how the music plays out.

You do the same and ready your cello, moving the piece to your left shoulder, bow on the right hoof and you begin to slowly ease yourself into the song, moving the bow back and forth repeatedly. The piece begins to pick up in speed and difficulty making you start to sweat, only messing up a few times in the process, the magic in the music begins taking a toll on your conscious. Starting to haze in-and-out your vision becoming blurry, all noise fading out to slurs of stretched out sounds. At last you can’t hold out any longer, massive globs of water falling from your face, scraping your neck on its way down, messing up your playing further by hitting the strings. Finally you pass out, fading to black.

The room slowly comes back into view as you blink your blurry-visioned eyes and wipe away the water from them. “Are you okay?” A voice can be heard to your immediate right, it doesn’t quite sound the same as Octavia’s.

“Veronica…?” You mumbled groggily.

“I think you’re hearing things, I certainly don’t sound like her.” Octavia responded.

Your eyesight finally cleared itself and the ringing in your head dissipated, returning you to the world that was before it started spinning.

“Ugh, that piece is too tough for me it seems. I’m out of practice or that’s a high-level song.” You stand up and ready your cello once again. An idea pops into your head for a song that would wow that audience, just the other performer might be against it, as she is running the concert.

“What if we have a change in the lineup?”

“What do you mean?” She cocks an eyebrow and looks at you waiting for you to suggest something stupid.

“What if we played a song that is more modern, popular, and still difficult but playable. Something that I can do seeing as I’m out of practice. Fortunately we have a few hours, what do you say?”

“It may be the only way.” She replies with a slight giggle.

“Get your cello and let’s get to work, we have a house to bring down!”

Time passes as the both of you practice, it’s nearly time for the concert, the clock in the room slowly ticking down to showtime! Packing up, you both make way toward the door for the cab outside. Closing the front door behind the both of you and locking up, the cab awaits on the other side of the gate.

As you pull up to the massive concert hall, you take note of its magnificence. It looks as if the structure has been around for a long time, giant stone white pillars in a line guard the front entrance, two beams in crisscross formation are attached to the front of the pillars. Grey brick all around with a two-sided sloping roof. The entrance itself has a red-carpet extending down the large stone steps, with a set of doors allowing viewers into the hall in hordes.

Picking up the cellos after paying the driver, you both make way for the back entrance in the dark alleyway to the left of the hall. You see a big guard pony standing ever alert in the front of the back entrance with the door open and several fans in back trying to make their way past him with fake id’s or passes.

Walking up to the back entrance the guard pony looks at both of you with the cellos in tow and asks you to state your names.

“Octavia and guest, please let us through, we’re the entertainment.”

Two mares to the left start spazzing out from seeing Octavia up close, bellowing her name and saying cringey stuff like we love you, please sign my flank!

Rolling your eyes the entrance is open as the guard moves out of the way to let you pass. The inside is a small hallway leading toward the backstage area, simple as there is no need to ‘dress it up’.

Several ponies are skittering about backstage trying to set up the lights, sound, microphones and other tech equipment needed for the evening. Several other musicians also begin to quietly practice at their dressing stations, the room heavy with the sound of music. However smiling you nod that it’s all low-level music, no competition there. “Easy.” You mumble to yourself. Confidence swelling up inside you as this will be a walk in the park.

Octavia moves toward her own personal dressing room marked “Octavia”, not really subtle, but easy to find. Entering the small room you note how it’s only meant as a place to get prepared, not really do anything else. A mirror, chair, brush, simple amenities to make the wait go by quickly.

A purple coated mare with a headset and clipboard walks in unannounced asking if we’re both ready as the first act begins in 3 minutes. Seeing as the opening act consists of the both of you, it’s fair to assume that’s why she bursted in.

Octavia turns to you, with a look on her face that spells ‘let’s do this.’ You can only assume she completely feels confident we can do it. No worry on her face despite the change in the lineup? Interesting.

You nod in silence, she follows suit, and you both make toward the stage, the audience is quiet as you approach the curtains, small chattering here-and-there. Then the announcer comes on.

“Alright you lovely ponies we have quite a show for you tonight, are you ready to feel the emotional ride of music?”

The crowd gives a slight cheer ready for the performances of tonight. You peer around the curtain and look out towards the some hundreds of ponies lining the seats, completely sold out. Front row middle seats you see Veronica and her parents patiently awaiting the spectacle that is The Master Cellist.

“... The Master Cellist!” The announcer says to a crowd of clapping ponies.

You take a deep breath, shake your hooves, grab your cello and take to the stage. Octavia in front, two seats at the front of the stage. The crowd looks surprised, Veronica bouncing around probably excited that I’m on stage, her parents confused.

Taking your seats quietly, you ready your bows, look at each other and nod to signal the beginning of the magic of music.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mx0xCI1jaUM

You started off with a slow thudding, slowly speeding up, quicker and quicker. Silently, Octavia begins to drag the bow across the strings, getting faster and faster, wilder with each stroke. You glance over and see a face of pure happiness and excitement. Almost battle-hardened and ready to take on the world. A smile of your own creases its way onto your disheveled mane from the hardcore playing of the instrument, the two of you thunderstruck and powerful as the stage illuminates the two of you, the world in a quiet peaceful bliss as nothing but the sound of you two playing takes to the concert hall.

The song starts to slow down, both of you begin to play lighter and fade to black, lights dimming and finally the whole stage alights a new and the crowd begins cheering, clapping, and whistling. Veronica in front clapping like the mad clapper. The audience begins to simmer down as you take your bows, and begin to pack up. You look toward the audience once more and see a pony in a black hoodie coming down the aisles, hoof in one pocket. You begin to recall the message left from earlier and your heart begins pounding, thinking to yourself ‘No, it can’t be true… Can it?’ You watch as he quickly pulls a silver object from the hoodie. Your eyes widen, a frightened look on your face, Octavia completely unaware of this, no pony paying attention to the hooded figure.

“He’s got a gun!!” You scream at the top of your lungs, hoof pointing toward the hooded figure.

He panics and takes it out quickly, Octavia whips around to see the hooded figure just in time. You make to jump in the way of the bullet, hoping to Celestia you make it in time.

*BANG*

You hit the ground hard, lightly banging your head on the wooden glossed floor of the stage, your eyes closed. Slowly opening them, you begin to feel around you, no blood, no hurting aside from your head. You quickly look in the direction of Octavia, panic written all over.

“I was too late…” You mutter to yourself. “I… It can’t… No!” You quickly rush over to where her body lay, blood all over the stage, a couple of guard ponies rush past and tackle the gunman down the ground, the pistol flying from his hoof unto the stage a few hooves away. The body lay limp, no sound, no movement, no life. Tears fall in streams down each side of your disheveled face. Ruckus can be heard and screams running for the exit, but nothing matters to you anymore. Anger swells up inside, an insatiable hate for the pony that did this, getting on your hooves you slowly move toward the pony in the hood.

“Why!” You belch, half sounding like a clogged french horn. “Why did you do this! She didn’t hurt anybody!” You feel your hoof kick something, looking down you see the very gun that murdered the one you loved. Everything begins to go hazy and red, picking up the gun, looking bewildered at the instrument that played the tune of death. As you ready the gun in his direction, the guard ponies unmask him.

“I came here to finish the job boy, not like you’d understand.” He said in a mocking laugh. “Do it.” He clearly didn’t care, no look of fear, as if he isn’t expecting you to pull the trigger. “Ha! You don’t have the guts to.” He says spitting on the ground.

“Son, put the gun down, this isn’t worth it!” A guard pony yells to you. Making his way to you slowly.

“Finish the job…? Fin-” Suddenly it dawned on you. “Y… You killed her parents…? YOU were the gunman from so long ago?!”

“That’s right boy, and now I can rest easy knowing I’ve finally gotten my revenge. Death will greet me with open arms.”

*BANG*

You pulled the trigger, the pony flops to the ground almost instantly, if the guards weren’t holding him up. You begin to fall over, gun hits the ground, the world fading to nothingness. Two guard ponies tackling you to the floor. Your eyes slowly close as the voice inside you screams out.

“Not Octavia, not now… Not now.!” You scream.

Your eyes slowly begin to open, a blurry image of an instrument, nay, several instruments.

“Wha…?” Lifting your head up from the counter you look around it’s a pretty generic shop: Basic flutes, trumpets, cello's, pretty much all orchestral instruments with the occasional few that were from different cultures.

“It was all a dream…?” You mumble to yourself. Letting out a large sigh. One hour until closing, and as the clock strikes one minute after seven the door opens and the small bell above the door rings, as a black-maned, gray mare walks in carrying what looks to be a cello case on her back.

Author's Note

Finally done, errors? Contact me if you wanna fix those errors, I'm not doing that again... I suck at writing details, and I get distracted easily so I reeeeally just wanted to finish it.