Heart of Gold

by Lyreaxiose

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Octavia
Length: 1577

Octavia rekindles her passion for music

After the disaster at the Grand Galloping Gala, Octavia begins to reflect on her life, the choice's she made, and the reasons for doing what she does.

Published 2013-04-24 17:20:02 UTC
Last updated 2013-04-24 17:20:02 UTC

Heart of Gold

Heart of Gold
"We would like to introduce to you a new pony. She's going to play for us a song on her guitar. Let's all give her a round of applause." An Earth pony walks across the stage to the sound of hooves beating the ground. She takes her place.

"Thank you, it's nice to meet you all."

It all begins with a silence.

In some seedy establishment in the unfashionable part of Canterlot where never walks a pony of class where the air is laced with smoke and loneliness, there is a pony on a stool in the spot light. The pony sits before the crowd with her guitar. She leans into it, bringing the instrument closer to her heart. She wears dark glasses and a light dress covering her cutie mark. Even with the sun glasses, she casts her face down to the stage and shuts her eyes. She can't contain her smile. With a single movement, the guitar comes to life.

The air was a canvas where the silence is a void mixing with the notes.

She breaths in

"I want to live, I want to give..."

It takes her back. She's sitting on a bench outside an admission's office for the Academy of Music for Gifted Ponies. Her mother is inside speaking to some pony inside. A cello is leaning up against the bench. Her father is there. He looks out the window at the ornate building. It's oddly silent for a school of music, she remembers.

She fidgets in her seat. Her father looks back at her. He's a unicorn with a blue coat and a messy, navy mane with threads of grey. He wears an old, worn bowtie. It's red with small, green fibers that blend in to the point that they look accidental.

"Excited, Octavia?" He smiles. His face is touched by age, but his eyes continue to shine with a passion that never fades.

"Yeah! I'm gonna play!" She beams

Another of his smile. He picks up the cello out of its case and sets it next to her. He stands in front of her. "Well, my little mare, play for me a song."

"Okay!" She grips the bow and drags it across the strings. It creates a shrill note. She winces. Her father merely goes on smiling. "Sorry, dad."

"One shouldn't apologize for practicing. Go on, my child. Remember what I've taught you."

She tries again. It's rocky at first, but the notes fall into place like he showed her.

"That's good, but you forgot one thing."

Octavia pants and runs through the notes in her head. "Uh, umm. Wait, I know!"

"You forget to give a bow, girl."

Octavia pops her head up. She nods and jumps to her hind legs, giving an exaggerated bow like he showed her.

She's back in the present.

"I've been in my mind. It's such a fine wine."

She looks towards the crowd for an instance. The bright lights flood her vision. The crowd might as well not even be there. She could be anywhere.

It's the night before the Grand Galloping Gala. Her cello is against the wall. After all the practice, she doesn't want to look at it. She's drying off after a bath. They had practiced all day, and Octavia just wanted to sleep. There's a knock on the door. She sighs. These ponies never leave her alone. If it was another fan, she was going to lose her head. She opens the door.

Standing there is her father with a bouquet of flowers. His body is worn. His mane is now fully gray, but his eyes still shine. "It's me, your number one fan." He says as she moves aside to let him in. He moves to the desk and places the flowers down.

"Well, are you going to hug your father? I hope I don't look so fragile."

She embraces him. "Hey, dad. I'm glad you could make it. Trottingham is so far."

"For you, my light, anything. You look almost as tired as I am."

"I've been on the road. I practice and travel all day and play all night. It wears you down."

He nods, looking at her through his glasses. He has a on a cyan bowtie today. "Hmm, yes. It does get tiring at times, but those nights and the love you get from all those ponies make it all worth it in the end. I can't tell you how happy it makes me to this day to see a pony say how my music helped them. It's why we do this."

"I just wish they would let me rest some times."

"You sound unhappy."

"All these stuffy ponies want to invite me to their stuffy parties. I feel like a wind-up doll for them. Play this. Play that."

"Don't you love what you do?"

"I do! It's just so much some times. I feel so out of control of my own life. Here I am, about to play at The Grand Galloping Gala, and I can barely look at my instrument. What am I doing, dad?"

"You're playing someone else's music, kiddo. Why don't you play me your music, like when you were young?"

"I can't do that. It's so stupid."

"No, it isn't. Why are you embarrassed by your own talents?"

"I'm not good enough for that."

"Is that what you tell yourself, now?"

He gets up and picks up the cello. He sits on the bed next to her and begins to play a few notes. He passes it to her.

"If you're not playing what's in your heart, what's the point? Beauty is more than what a few stuck-up ponies say it is."

Octavia smiles.

The lights are back in her eyes.

"You keep me searching for a heart of gold, and I'm growing old."

It's the night of the Gala. Everything was ruined. That pink pony had destroyed everything. The other ponies with Octavia fume over her actions. She was as well. She had thrown her cello to the floor and sat hunched over on the stage. Cake and confetti and animal waste was everywhere. Princess Celestia had stormed off.

She gets jumps down from the stage and walks towards the door.

"Hey, Octavia, where are you going?"

"Away!"

She slams the door behind her. She hears them call her names as she does so. Octavia considers turning around to go yell at them, but decides it's not worth it. She goes to the garden. There's a gazebo there in a clearing next to a pond. Octavia occupies it. She stares out over the garden. The birds had flown back and were now singing.

She thinks back to what her dad had said about doing what she loved. Is this what she wanted? She loves music, but not this life style. Not this endless procession of balls and galas. A long time ago, she wanted to be the best. Her dad had never been that famous, but she was going to be. Now, she stands alone in the garden watching the moon peak through the branches over a pond. Her big gig was a bust. Some pony had made her a fool.

She hears a bird with a strangely familiar call. Some inside her makes her search for the source. Up and down the paths of the garden she goes searching the trees for that bird. Finally, in some small corner, she finds an old donkey. It whistles the tune away in the night. She see's a quiet, unrefined beauty in the scene.

"Excuse me."

He turns to face her. "Evening, Miss."

"Good evening. What's that you're whistling? It sounds so familiar."

"This? I used to listen to this song when I was a young'un. A unicorn played it in the streets all the time. I spent my lunch just sitting there, listening."

Something comes to Octavia. She does know this song. Her father had sung it to her when she was young. His love for music was what inspired her in the beginning. But it wasn't the reason she was here on this night.

"Thank you, sir. Have a nice night."

"Oh, you too, lady."

She returns to the ball room to fetch her cello.

"Where have you been?"

"I'll see you guys around."

"What?"

"I said, I'll see you around."

She walks out into the night. Octavia never is so famous again. She continues to play the cello as her first love, but, some nights, she takes that old guitar to town. She finds the small places with an open mic night. The unrefined places where one finds beauty in the smoke and the hops. And she sings her heart out.

"I've been a miner for a heart of gold."

The song ends. The notes fade away. The crowd claps and cheers. She remembers why she started, and why she comes back. She stands and gives a bow.

"Thank you, every pony. I'm so glad you enjoyed my music."

This was what she lived for.

Author's Note

I've always loved music. It's a theme in a lot of the ideas I've had for stories, but I've never been able to really find a way to do so well. This is one attempt. I've tried to include a little Teaism in there as I've been reading so much on it lately. It's really quite an interesting approach to aesthetics.