Rarity hummed to herself as she slipped down the stairs. The only thing left to start her day was catching up with the mail over breakfast. A few minutes had her sitting at the table with a resting bowl of oatmeal, a cup of juice, the weekly Canterlot newspaper she had delivered to her shop in Ponyville, and a suspiciously crisp letter sealed with a suspiciously noble wax stamp.
Rarity knew the sources of drama in her life and that letter was definitely about to become one of them. In defiance of the inevitable, she opened the newspaper and started skimming its contents. At best, if it contained any hints at what could have prompted such a letter, it’d make her feel a bit smarter. Otherwise, at least her breakfast would probably have a better chance to finish waking her up.
About a third of everything was devoted to analyzing every action made by the hotshot rising princess Twilight Sparkle. It was nothing but political drivel, in her experience, that wouldn't even slightly inform the next “in” color or theme in the noble fashion scene.
On the backside, a different sort of story caught her attention. A career musician, noted to have been growing in renown within her orchestra and without, had disappeared a couple of days earlier after performing at a private venue on the horseshoe coast. Authorities didn't find a body in the water, so it was being treated like a suspected kidnapping, but with no prime suspects.
The article noted that this was the third such disappearance of somepony without a trace along the east coast, and that simple statement twisted Rarity’s gut.
She had experiences with the east coast that nopony would be particularly likely to call normal. Ever since she freed herself from… Him. That silver-tongued Snake. The self defense classes that followed were a small comfort, but in the months following her liberation it seemed as though she had gained a newfound nemesis in the ocean itself. Between her experience with Him, a trip to the beach ruined by some particularly aggressive jellyfish, and another trip ruined by a small horde of distinctly large crabs… Rarity had decided to keep her distance from the shores.
Something was definitely wrong with the ocean. Surely that had something to do with the disappearances, right?
Rarity looked up from her newspaper and said out loud, “‘Something is wrong with the ocean.’ Rarity, really, what are you thinking?”
Larger ponies than her could worry about the oceans and if they weren't worried there was certainly no place for her own paranoia.
Unless those ponies were nobles, who were infamously frequently careless about most real issues—
Rarity closed the newspaper in a huff. The distraction had only flustered her and now the letter was the only thing left to attend to.
Rarity raised the letter with her telekinesis and popped the seal. As much as she scrutinized the envelope, nothing else happened on its own. After a moment, she slid out the letter within and unfolded it.
A letter from Prince Blueblood, an apology for his brash behavior at a recent gathering she attended – and definitely tried flirting with him, most definitely for the sake of her business opportunities, mind you – and an invitation to a garden party in the Canterlot Upper Strata so that he could have the chance to apologize directly and introduce her to a few ponies that he suspected might be looking to commission a new outfit or two in preparation for Summer.
Rarity set the letter down. Even for being defensive against a low class gold digger – which was insulting enough already – her recollection was that Blueblood had been a genuine asshole in her informed opinion.
On the other hoof, the ponies living in the Canterlot Upper Strata were the ones most likely to set the new fashion trends, so the magnitude of opportunity would be hard to overstate. On her third hoof – and what good fortune ponies had more than two hooves so that such complex matters may be reasoned about – Rarity’s morning all around left her with the urge to throw up her oatmeal.
Rarity picked her best plan of action for the circumstances: “Nope.”
Satisfied with her choice, she centered the letter and the newspaper on the table and put her dishes in the sink. The letter was now Evening Rarity’s job while Present Rarity slipped out the door for a walk, possibly a spa trip, and, stomach-be-willing, something with chocolate from Sugarcube Corner later.
Octavia stared listlessly at the ocean as she dangled her foreleg towards the waves lapping at her perch. High tide meant there wasn't much of a beach for anypony to enjoy at that moment, but none of the other guests at the venue were inclined to care considering that the party was entirely indoors. Octavia had played her part – literally – and that's all that mattered to her.
That was actually part of the problem.
It was her father's birthday, and a wealthy pony as he, practically nobility in all ways but blood relations, put on a grand party for the occasion. Naturally, he wanted his daughter, the musical prodigy of the family, to be part of the musical backdrop. So she played her part.
Many years prior, Filly Octavia had begun to learn the wonders of music and dreamed of sharing it with everypony someday. Then she put in the effort all her teachers said would pay off. She practiced drills and honed her skills. She passed every audition, each of which opened up more opportunities to audition. Each successive musical ensemble, greater than the last in reputation, resembled the next ever more closely as she became entrenched in the high-society musical scene.
She had finally earned the honor of playing the same dozen or so classical songs with a handful of the few hundred similarly qualified ponies in the Canterlot region as a backdrop to every noble and businesspony’s gathering for any little thing. The music was to be mostly ignored because the only thing that mattered was who had invited whom.
Worst of all, her father evidently thought it was fair game to swing around his support for her music career in foalhood to guilt her into being his showpony for his own social kudos.
Realistically, saying “no” would have minimal consequences for her, but the emptiness of the situation coupled with the absence of any better ideas discouraged any dramatic action. Truth be told, she had no idea what to do about her situation… besides escaping the party as the real drinks started flowing and moping about things while she poked at the waves.
“Excuse me, miss… Are you one of the ponies who played the music earlier?”
Octavia sat up and almost turned around… but the voice had come from in front of her. The sun had just about set and the water was half lit by lamps along the walkway, so it took her a moment to pick out the head emerging from the water a couple of meters away.
“Yes, I am one of the musicians. Isn't it a bit late to be swimming?”
“Seaponies can see better in the dark than land ponies so I don't need to go home for another hour. Oh and, my name's Pearlescence. I heard the music playing earlier so I stayed to listen. It was really pretty.”
Octavia shifted from a squint to a raised eyebrow. This pony—Pearlescence—was apparently a seapony. Octavia didn't have any prior experiences talking to seaponies.
“Thanks…? I guess you don't hear many pieces from… land?”
“Nope! I guess you might think it's a little boring, but it's still new to me, and I really liked it.”
At least it just felt like she was talking to any other filly. “Well… I’m glad somepony enjoyed the music tonight.”
“Can I ask your name, miss?”
“Octavia”
“Oooh. So… I don't want to be a bother, but could you help me test something really quick? Only ponies who appreciate music would really understand and a lot of ponies underwater kind of give up.”
Octavia cocked her head at the context of the request. “What in Equestria do you mean?”
“There's supposed to be music in the ocean, and I mean everywhere in the ocean. Some creatures say it's from the whales. I wanna hear it in all its beauty someday, but the stories say that only other whales can hear it all at once. I know I can't hear it yet, so I wish I knew somepony who could hear it all so they could explain it to me. Maybe I could figure something out then.”
The idea of “whale song” filling the ocean seemed absurd, especially since she hadn't heard of any such legend before. On the other hoof, she didn't know anypony who had expected the allegedly-prophesied return of Princess Luna before that had happened, either.
“... And you think I could hear it?”
“I dunno, but it'd still be fun to try and find out! Maybe it's so normal to me that I don't know I can already hear it. I bet it would stand out to you just like your music did to me.”
Octavia had the sinking feeling that she had already succumbed to the request. Filly logic was truly The Worst when it was correct.
“Suppose I agree to try. What does this entail, exactly?”
* * *
Apparently, Pearlescence was capable of sharing just a few minutes of seapony magic. Having flippers for swimming was neat, but the sensation of having her forehooves morph into them was more than a little weird. With them, Octavia was almost able to keep up with her guide… though Pearlescence still pulled ahead far enough a couple of times to need to stop and wait for Octavia to catch up.
By the second time she had to catch up, Octavia’s mind had started to grow a couple of worries. “This is a bit much. I really do have to get back to the others eventually—”
“Just a little further out, I promise! We’re really almost far enough.”
Octavia definitely hoped that they wouldn't have to go much further. She technically had swimming experience, but only enough to learn that swimming was a lot of work more than training her body to be any good at it. Even with the magical augments making every stroke more efficient, her limbs started to ache enough to tell her that she’d best be halfway done with whatever it was she was going to do in the water.
“Okay, here,” said her guide, also raising a flipper to communicate their stop.
Octavia glanced around quickly. With limited sunlight to begin with and the haze of being underwater, she couldn't see much of anything, let alone where land was. However, from the direction she swam and through the surface of the water a few meters overhead she could still see lights from the party venue twinkling. A small relief.
“Now…?”
“Normally I think you'd have to be a sea creature, but the magic I gave you should take care of that. So, just close your eyes and listen. We won't hear any of the noises from shore now.” Pearlescence seemed to still herself as well, presumably to contribute to the silence.
Octavia nodded and did as she was instructed, letting the background sounds wash over her and consume her focus.
Almost immediately, she realized this wasn't anything like putting her head under in the pools where her swimming lessons took place. It defied her comprehension, but even with the ocean being necessarily massive in comparison with similarly boggling amounts of water flowing to or fro as per… however it was the currents and the tides worked, it seemed to lack the overbearing roar of water constantly forced against itself. This water wasn't the source of sounds, it was the chamber that housed them.
And just faintly, perhaps from something far, far away, there were sounds… drawn out into… notes? It was either that or she had developed an especially aggravating and confusing case of tinnitus. Getting much, much closer would have been ideal for the purpose of clarifying what she could hear.
“Is that what you mean…?”
“I dunno. You tell me! Is it from the whales? Are there notes? Do they sing harmonies?”
Octavia closed her eyes again. “Notes: probably. Chords: maybe. I can't really make out anything clearly, but it does sound more melodic than I ever expected from the ocean.”
“Excellent.”
That voice was different, deeper. Octavia’s eyes snapped open, but everything stayed dark. Almost immediately, she felt a fluttering in her chest and her head getting light. She made a halfhearted attempt to flail and shout, but the blackness remained, the water itself removing all sense of direction. At the same time, something seemed to suck all her breath away until she started falling out of the world itself.
The stallion in the mirror stroked a hoof along his chin. In a stone chamber deep under the water, the stallion in front of the mirror instead rapped his hoof against bone. One of his eyes twitched in response to the aggravating percussive moments.
Ironically, that was an excellent sign that the illusion magic had settled into the background of his conscious mind. What would normally be cause for some mild celebration – a drink, at least – seemed more like an insult by reminding him that constant illusory magic was the bare minimum he could do to regain his accreditation of normalcy in pony society. To say nothing of the fact that his liver, tongue, and stomach all finished rotting away over a year ago.
He had quite the bone to pick with the pony who sent him to “swim with the fishies” at such an inopportune time. From what little he could gather from the surface, the new princess was a rising star… and he had his hooves on exactly none of the strings involved anymore. After his death, all he had to be grateful for was that his hatred for the pony that killed him was enough to animate him after death as a Drowner. Other ponies, many of which were sent to “swim with the fishies” by his own command, were not nearly so fortunate. What few lingered as vaguely animated skeletal remains had a washed out enough sense of hatred that it was easily redirected at just about anything.
Almost right away he had become the leader of a tiny skeleton army, made of the lethargically animated remains of ponies that were all but literally incapable of returning ashore, let alone accomplishing anything there.
He had to rely on his experiments controlling sea life to expand his abilities. The results, as successful as they were, remained less than overwhelming. Ravaging a single beach resort at a time was hardly going to bring Equestria to his hooves. It became obvious that he simply didn't have the options that could compare to the shadow tactics that his living self employed. So, he turned his efforts away from the topside for a while and invested his efforts in discovering whether the ocean had such opportunities hidden within. After a year of searching, he stumbled upon a very fruitful discovery: he wasn't the only one in the ocean seeking such a quantity of power.
The stallion turned away from the mirror in his chamber and retrieved the token granted to him by his newfound master and benefactor, in this case formed into a ring that he could wear around his horn, since most of that remained. The promotion was recognition for his ambitions more than just his services thus far; alongside the promotion came nearly Carte Blanche approval for his project to eventually claim control over the whalesong.
The token itself was powerful, too.
The stallion took a peek in the mirror to be sure the ring sat properly before exiting his chamber. Today, he could take the first real step for his grand plans. Those plans demanded more experiments, and his experiments needed specific subjects. To fish for such subjects, he would need good bait.
With the resources at his disposal, he was certain he could make one, but he didn't think he had the patience to wait for a semblance of emotional stability to recur… but surely he could find a cute, suggestible seapony orphan to mold with his infamous silver tongue somewhere in the ocean.
Legend has it that the whalesong shapes the oceans. The whales themselves, a species mighty and ancient, roam the waters, keeping all as it Should Be. They consume and disperse corruption, see and remember All That Is, and each cast their voices into a symphony that most creatures can hear of but a sliver. A symphony that is said to dictate fates.
We pray to our princesses, celestials set upon pedestals in the sky, but the oceans have their own gods.
It is said that no mortal has heard the full depth of the whalesong. Perhaps that is true. Perhaps if they heard, the whalesong dictated it be kept a secret. It is just as well that the whales themselves weave the whalesong, for only they are sure to understand it.
But mortals still see the structure of power, the implicit and simple truth behind it: to gain control of the whalesong would be to wield the power of gods.
