The gala was more or less over. Octavia peered out from behind her cello, which had protected her for the most part from the temporary madness. The ballroom was a complete wreck; pillars collapsed in pieces on the floor, food tables broken, animals picking their way around the disheveled (to say the least) guests. A complete disaster.

Now confident that no more chaos would ensue, the mare stood and began packing her things along with the rest of the band. Frederick had already promised to handle the details after the gala, and with how the night had turned out Octavia wasn’t about to stay behind to debate the matter. She’d been practically assaulted by that crazy pink pony and her dignity was suffering from having to play that childish song for her (why oh why had they signed an agreement to handle all requests?).

She needed a spot to relax, so once she had her cello in its case and on her back she made her way out of the ballroom and into the gardens, where none of the guests were.

She found a secluded spot near a statue of some old wizard – Starsomething, most of the inscription had faded over the years. She breathed deep, took in the peaceful night air. This… this was far more like it. She gazed up at the stars for a while, letting her mind relax from what could only have been described as a traumatic evening. When she’d been invited to play at the Grand Galloping Gala, she’d been ecstatic! Had she but known…

She needed to hear something soothing. What was more soothing than her cello? She pulled it out, tested the sound to ensure the strings hadn’t been loosened during the earlier chaos, considered what to play. Another quiet look up at the stars, and she knew: Tārā Sapnā. Relaxing, smooth… appropriate.

She needed no sheet music; this was a tune she’d memorized from a long time ago. She closed her eyes and relaxed as her instrument, her pride, filled the air with its heavy tone. It was a slow, deep, sweet tune, calm and patient in its steady melodies and gentle rhythm. A long, somber song to drown out all her worries and take her mind away to a quieter place. Like the stars.

The song ended. She was relaxed. She thought of her mother, who loved that song so, and smiled happily.

And when she opened her eyes, she found that she had an audience of one: Princess Luna stood several feet away, watching her quietly.

Octavia was so startled she almost knocked her cello down in her haste to bow. “P-p-princess! Please forgive me, I did not intend to interrupt or… or…” What exactly was her transgression?

There was a long, anxious silence. Octavia kept her head bowed, afraid of doing anything that might offend the terrible Night Mare Moon.

But when the Princess spoke, her tone wasn’t harsh or loud. It was calm… and sad. “My appreciations for the song.”

Octavia looked up in surprise and saw the Princess turning away, her head hung low. “You… you really liked it…?”

Princess Luna paused, her flowing starlit mane blending almost magically with the night sky as she turned her head to look back. That face… there was so much sadness there. “I did.”

Octavia stood slowly, caught in the Princess’ gaze. “…th… thank you… and forgive me. I was of the momentary belief that I had done something wrong. And…” She glanced away timidly at that regal face, “…and you surprised me.”

The Princess sighed and turned her head away once more. “Then it seems I am fated to be feared.”

Octavia blinked, took a closer look at the Princess. “Feared?”

The tall, night-sapphire pony gave her a solemn look, but did not answer. Instead, she asked a question of her own. “Your song, by what title is it known?”

“Tārā Sapnā.” The Princess tilted her head uncertainly, so she added, “It means Star Dream.”

“Star Dream…” the Princess repeated in a whisper. She gazed up at the night sky and smiled, just a little. “How pleasant. And… what is thy name?”

“Octavia Melody.”

Princess Luna turned to her and spoke softly. “Thou hast performed well this night, Octavia Melody. I do have a fondness for musical instruments of such deep tones as thy cello.”

Octavia was taken aback. “You heard? But… I did not note your presence at the gala.”

“I chose to remain hidden,” the Princess explained desolately. “I fear the public would not take kindly to my presence. If I may take thy reaction to my listening as an indication…”

Octavia’s heart leapt into her throat. She took a few steps forward to emphasize her words. “Princess, please! I am so very sorry, I did not mean to offend or make you feel unwelcome. I was merely startled by your abrupt appearance.” Luna didn’t appear convinced, so Octavia bowed politely. “Please stay. It would do me honor to play another song for you.”

Luna considered her quietly for several long seconds. At last she smiled. A soft, uncertain smile. “I would appreciate that.”

“I would appreciate that.”

And so Octavia took out her cello and prepped it. A little over a year had passed since that first gala. The cellist had performed at many concerts and events, and over the months came to recognize Luna as not just a fan, but an enduring friend. Tonight there was no great even to celebrate, no gala to prepare for. Just Octavia and Luna, alone on a balcony of Canterlot Castle under the shimmering stars.

The cello was set. Octavia turned to the Princess with a with a winning smile. “What’s your pleasure?”

Luna needed no time to think on it. “Play for me Cām˚danī Ṯahal.”

Ah, one of her favorites. Octavia set bow to string and, closing her eyes, began. Another slow, regal, gentle tune. Luna liked them that way. After hard nights flitting between dreams of woe, monsters and panic there was nothing quite like an enchanting, peaceful melody. On those nights when the pressures of royalty and duty seemed so great, she would visit Octavia, or ask her to come by. The cellist was always eager to perform for her beloved Princess of the Night, the one pony in Equestria to always support her passion.

The song came to its slentando end, and Luna sighed peacefully. “I love that song. I love the way you play it.”

Octavia smiled and blushed anxiously at the compliment. “I only follow the sheet music…”

“No,” the Princess whispered with a shake of her head. “I have heard almost a dozen versions, Octavia. Yours is unique. It’s more serene, more… how may I describe it? Eloquent?”

“I’m honored you think so,” the cellist acknowledged happily.

Their conversations were always quiet. Maybe it was because of the calming quality of the world at night, a world shrouded in a starry blanket, glimmering with a beauty crafted by the great Princess for the delight of those few like Octavia who sought to gaze up and adore. This world of night seemed to beckon the calm, sweet tranquility of silence. To disturb that almost holy serenity struck them both as… improper.

And so the two whispered in the cool night, sharing one another’s concerns and curiosities. Some nights they would hardly speak at all… only remain together in silence and gaze upon the velvety sky.

But tonight Octavia could not hold her tongue, for there was something weighing lightly on her mind. “Luna,” she whispered, setting her cello aside carefully, “do you remember that orchestration I mentioned before?”

The Princess did not look to her, only kept her gaze to the inky darkness above. “Yes… the one you wished to write. I recall your dream, Octavia.”

She shifted anxiously. “I… I finally did it.”

Now Luna did look, a gentle smile on her peaceful face. “Your first piece at last?”

She nodded, eyes down and blushing. “I haven’t found anypony who would let me perform it. I have high hopes for a concert hall in Manehattan, though I’ve not heard back from them yet. When… when I do find somepony out there to perform it for the first time… I really want you to be there.”

She glanced up hopefully; the Princess’ gentle smile had widened a touch. Luna sighed and quietly looked up at the stars once more. “When first I returned to this world I was feared and alone. Aside from my sister, you were the very first pony to show me kindness. It touched me in ways I feel to this night. In the past year your music have been my greatest comfort. Yes, Octavia, I will attend. This time it is you who do me honor.”

The pleasure that filled her was beyond compare. She might have jumped for joy… if she were a more energetic kind of pony. She was not, so she let her joy show in her calm, happy smile. “Thank you, Luna. Thank you so much.”

A long silence followed, the kind of silence that tended to pleasantly haunt their conversations. It was not an awkward silence, but it was contemplative. A gentle, patient moment of shared recognition and tranquility. Octavia basked in those silences; in the starry night, in the cool air, in the presence of her precious Princess.

At last the calm quiet was broken by Luna’s gentle tone. “Octavia… I know things may be difficult. If it should please you, perhaps I might… persuade some ponies.”

Octavia did not understand at first. When she did she shook her head. “No, Luna. I appreciate it, but no. This is something I wish to do on my own. I cannot ask you for such a favor.”

The Princess turned to her, pride upon her face. “If that is your wish. I will have faith in you my friend, and shall look forward to your grand success.”

Manehattan, four months later. The theater hall of the Manehattan Symphony Orchestra. Luna sat in her box seat, the stage below dark. She watched, nervousness filling her to her very core as she awaited her friend’s first ever starring performance, a performance in an orchestration that she herself had written.

The spotlight appeared, and Octavia strode out to polite applause. She had always been well-groomed, but tonight she seemed particularly beautiful in Luna’s eyes. The mare stood before the audience, took her bow. She approached the microphone set aside for just this moment.

“Ladies and gentlecolts, I want to thank you for this most wonderful night. Allow me to express my humblest gratitude to the Manehattan Symphony Orchestra, which I trust will amaze as they always have, and my mother, who taught me everything she knows. But more than anyone I wish to thank my closest friend, who inspired this piece with her own incomparable art, and who inspires me every night with her constant, gentle presence. Ladies and gentlecolts, I am pleased to introduce to you for the very first time: Kulīn Yābū Ke Amdar Upagraha.”

Luna stared, not quite believing what she’d just heard. She had asked Octavia once, long ago, how it might be said in the language of her mother’s homeland. It was the only reason she knew what it meant:

The Mare in the Moon.

She had no breath. She could only gaze in acute wonder as the pony turned away from the crowd and went to her cello. Octavia stood at the ready, closed her eyes, breathed deep…

And began to sing.

Luna had never heard Octavia sing before. She had a beautiful soprano voice, a voice that shone over the mind like the moon on a peaceful night sky. That voice touched upon her very soul, even as she failed to grasp the foreign words that slowly arose in the air and fell upon humbled, attentive ears.

But then the bow touched the strings and a somber, deep melody trembled through the night, harmonizing with the mare’s voice in a powerfully tranquil perfection. Slowly, with lights gradually encasing them, the other instruments joined the melody, until the entire symphony was playing along to her eloquent playing and singing. The choir announced its presence with a slow baritone accompaniment, and soon the entire world was filled with a glorious mixture of sound.

This was about her. Luna knew Octavia’s music, had listened to it intently for over a year. And she knew, with tears in her eyes, that this was all about her. No wonder Octavia wanted her to be here; this was more than just her first orchestration.

This was a gift.

She leaned against the railing, cheeks in her hooves, heart beating to the steady, calm rhythm. Her entire body felt weak with the pleasure of the sound, the quality, the inescapable meaning that filled her senses like the most perfectly-crafted evening. It was too much. Too good. Too beautiful. For over half an hour she was mesmerized by a musical tribute beyond comprehension.

At last the song reached its climax. One by one the instrumental groups began to fade into the background, and then were gone entirely. Soon it was only Octavia’s soft voice, matching with perfection the gentle tones of her cello. And when they ended, they ended together in a final, long, patient… finesse.

Silence engulfed the concert hall. Octavia waited but a moment, set her cello aside, and stood before the audience solemnly, awaiting something to venerate or eviscerate her greatest achievement.

And then the entire audience erupted. A standing ovation.

Luna found Octavia sitting behind the closed curtains, unable to move for the tears. When she finally noticed the Princess standing over her she beamed the most beautiful smile. “They liked it. Luna… they actually liked it!”

And then Luna did something she hadn’t done for anypony in a long time: she embraced the cellist in a tight hug.

“I am so very proud of you,” she whispered into the stunned mare’s ear. “You’ve made me happier than I’ve been in over a thousand years.”

When she pulled away she saw Octavia was blushing wildly. “You.. you really mean it…?”

Luna smiled her happy, gentle smile and kissed the pony on the forehead. “I absolutely loved it. I was so happy you had me in tears.”

Octavia’s cheeks burned even redder as she touched her forehead with wide eyes. But then, tears still in her eyes, she leaned forward and nuzzled the Princess’ chest affectionately. “I had to say it somehow…”

Luna, feeling light, accepted the gesture and rested her chin on the mare’s soft mane. “I heard you loud and clear. You truly have a gift.”

“You’re my gift,” Octavia corrected happily, snuggling tightly against the Princess.

“You were my gift all along.”

Author's Notes:

I normally don't write shipping fics, but when I saw that the group Random Romance was putting on a contest shipping Luna and Octavia I was intrigued; the coupling struck me as generally original and, most importantly, capable of seeming very real. So I concluded that after finishing my second Series of No Heroes I would write a competing piece. As usual with this kind of thing, I'm submitting my work very early in the contest. It usually doesn't take me long to go from concept to working idea, and I had the available time to write the whole thing in one sitting (about 2 1/2 hours including research). So yeah, here you go.

A few notes about my plot decisions:

1) This story takes place in the same MLP continuity as my own story, No Heroes, however it is non-canon to that story. This leads to a few implications which I mention below.

2) In my MLP continuity, Octavia is not an elite pony, but works to maintain the image of one. Her lifelong dream is to become a famous songwriter which, as we can see, she actually achieves in this story. However, playing the cello is not her special talent: singing is. When asked, she claims that she doesn't like to sing in front of crowds, and also claims to like the sound of her cello more than her own voice.

3) Another major thing about Octavia that has yet to be brought up in No Heroes: her mother is from Delfilly, my MLP version of Delhi. She is very aware of this cultural background, reflected in her ability to speak Hindi fluently and her study of Indian musical styles, which I envision her combining with western classical music.

4) Relating to #3, all the song names are in the Hindi language, reflecting my Octavia's cultural background. I am not Indian and have absolutely no knowledge of the Hindi language; I used an online translator to pick out the names. That said, I imagine my attempts to use the Hindi language are of poor quality. (If anybody out there knows better translations for the phrases 'Star Dream,' 'Moonlit Stroll' and 'The Mare in the Moon,' let me know and I'll update the song names!)

5) I was very cautious with how both ponies spoke. I wanted to give them a more complex speaking manner in hopes of emulating Octavia's sophistication and Luna's formal tone. Luna in particular is always a challenge; she gradually eases her tone and formality as the show goes on, and so I adjusted her manner of speaking at different parts of the story to reflect the passage of time.

6) Above all else, I wanted this to be a 'soft' romance. Too often have I read stories of love at first sight, or the kind of stories that seem to run like this: "Hey." "Hey." "You're hot." "You too." "Wanna make out?" "Sure." Excuse me but blech. If I'm going to write a shipping fic, I want to try to make it feel real. Neither Luna or Octavia are the types of ponies to just jump into another pony's arms (err... front legs) after two or three meetings.

And thus I chose something that struck me as more... them. A quiet, gentle affection that goes unsaid. There's no need to say it outright. It just becomes something the characters feel and recognize on their own, and gradually grows until at last one of them does something that finalizes the bond. A 'soft' romance. Quiet. Tender. Real.