My name is Octavia Melody Philharmonica. Many of you may likely know me as first chair cellist of the Canterlot Orchestra, and the youngest pony to ever be given the honour of even being in the orchestra. However, I am not writing this to brag of my achievements, or tell you all what I already know.

I am not writing this to make any of you pity me. The point of this autobiography is not to ask you to feel sorry for me, or sad for my life. I’ve had a very wonderful life. I am not here to make you sad. I’m here to tell you the truth about the mare behind the cello. The real Octavia Melody Philharmonica. She’s much different than you may care to believe. Many of you may be surprised at who I once was. The only ponies I ever opened up to entirely are gone now, and I’m heading the same way. In a way, this is my way of apologising. I’m not much of a writer. I never have been. So this book, for lack of a better term, is more of my memories, printed for the world to see, and to clear my conscious. As I said, this is an apology. To my mother, my father, my marefriend, and myself. I suppose the best place to begin would be my childhood.

I was just a young filly when I had decided I hated my mother.

A young filly, no older than three, was playing a game of ‘don’t touch the floor’, giggling and laughing as her father, the white unicorn on the couch, watched on, using his magic to provide her with any assistance if she missed the couch cushion and was in peril of touching the floor. She wiggled her hindquarters and leaped, landing belly-first on the next cushion with a small ‘oomph’. Her mother walked in, a stern Earth pony with a scowl on her face as she glared down at her young daughter.

“Octavia Melody,” she said crisply, using her daughter’s first and middle names as she always did. “What exactly are you doing?”

“The floor is lava, Mommy! You can’t touch it, you’ll burn your hoofsies!”

“The floor is not lava, Octavia Melody. That is mahogany. I’ve told you many times, ‘Mommy’ is an infantile word. You’re far too old for such a petname. ‘Mother’ will do nicely. And ‘hoofsies’ is not a word. It is hooves, Octavia Melody. Now clean up these couch cushions before your instructor gets here and sees this mess.”

“I don’t wanna play cello, Mommy. I wanna play with Daddy!” As if on cue, her father lifted her into the air, surrounded in an aura of light purple magic.

“Put her down this instant, Arpeggio. That is no way to behave with a child. Of course, what should I have expected with you letting her bounce around like that. Octavia Melody, clean up this mess this instant!” Arpeggio lowered his daughter and told her to do as her mother had asked.

“I’m just trying to be a father to her, Dissonance. Or is it your life goal to make sure your daughter never has one?”

“My daughter has all she needs. She doesn’t need an immature stallion teaching her it is okay to prance about the house, making a mess of things.” The filly looked at her two parents, confused.

“I’m your daughter too, Daddy!” She piped up, tossing the pillow she was holding in her mouth onto the couch. She looked to her mother. “Right, Mom...Mother?”

“Clean the sitting room, Octavia Melody.” Her mother said sharply. She gave one last glare to her husband and left the room, her hooves clicking on the mahogany floors. The filly in the sitting room stared after her mother and felt something hot spreading through her face and chest. She knew what angry felt like, of course. She had been angry when the other ponies at daycare wouldn’t share their toys. But this was different than angry. This was more than just angry. It wasn’t until her father left that room that the filly looked towards the door and whispered.

“I hate you, Mommy.”

I realised later on that having a unicorn father and an Earth pony mother was very much impossible. Imagine my surprise when I was told that the unicorn gene was dominant over the Earth pony gene. My father told me, when I was older, about my mother’s ‘business trip’ to Los Pegasus. She met somepony there, and my father knew about my mother’s betrayal the moment I was born. He only stuck around for my sake. He was always trying to make things better for me, and I miss him greatly. Anypony who got to know Arpeggio Philharmonica is a very lucky pony indeed. I was never able to track down my biological father, but that doesn’t bother me. Arpeggio Philharmonica was an excellent father, and I’m so happy I was able to grow up in his excellent care. I can thank him for many of the moral values I carry with me today.

My father may have been a wonderful pony, but my mother, as I have mentioned previously, was not. Much of my young life was spent doing everything I could just to make her angry. She wanted clean and orderly, so my bedroom was a disaster. She wanted pale and beautiful, so I painted my room black and got dark purple bed sheets. She wanted a cellist prodigee, so I took up the art of DJ-ing. My first gig made headlines for weeks, back when I was just thirteen years old.

“Octavia Melody, what in Celestia’s name did you do to your hair! And what in Equestria are you wearing? ” Dissonance Philharmonica shrieked. Her daughter, now thirteen, was standing in front of her, her charcoal black mane streaked with purple and chopped short. Her back hooves were covered by long fishnet sleeves, and she wore two bangles on each of her front hooves. Three studs were in the young mare’s ears. They were fake, of course, but her mother didn’t need to know that. The teenage filly ignored her mother and pushed forward, leaving the house. It was late, but she had spent weeks trying to get a spot reserved at a rather popular club in the city. It was amature night, and Octavia was hoping with everything she had that the treble clef on her flank meant she was good at anything relating to music, not just the cello. Her limited practise on turntables hadn’t been nearly enough to boost her confidence, but she had to try. She ignored her mother, screaming at her to get back inside and fix her mane and tail, and sped up to a trot, hurrying away from her house and heading into the city.

The city was crowded and teeming with nightlife. The mare passed several homeless ponies, all of them begging for a bit or two so they could buy food. Octavia turned her nose up and hurried past them. They said they wanted food or shelter, but they reeked of alcohol. She wasn’t going to give them her money just so they could spend it on slowly killing themselves further. She hurried through the crowds, trying to ignore the looks that older stallions were giving her. She regretted trying to make herself look older before coming out. If she’d known that creeps would be giving her lecherous looks, she would have just let herself look thirteen.

The club she was scheduled at was crowded and smelly when she arrived, pushing the back door open. There was a large brown stallion glaring down at her.

“Name?”

“M-Melody, with a ‘three’ instead of an ‘e’ and a ‘zero’ where the ‘o’ would be,” Octavia stuttered. The guard glanced at a list on the wall and nodded.

“Go on in,” he said, stepping back and spreading a wing out, gesturing inside. Octavia gulped and walked inside, looking back to make sure she wasn’t being watched. Before long, her ears were bombarded with beat upon beat, pounding in the showroom and shaking the building. She swallowed hard and stepped forward, unsure of what to do.

“Hey! Are you that Melody filly? You’re on in five, let’s go!” A pony was yelling, pulling Octavia towards the stage. “The equipment is all set up for you, as soon as he says goodnight, I’ll go out there, introduce you, and you’ll do your thing. Okay? Okay.” Before Octavia could even say that she didn’t really know what she was doing, the music died out, ponies stomped their hooves in appreciation, and the pony was onstage. The grey mare didn’t even hear her introduction, but the crowd was roaring, so she stepped onstage.

She was glad for the makeup. All the ponies on the floor were at least sixteen, and they were already looking skeptical about a seemingly sixteen year old taking the tables. She inhaled, trying to channel her inner party animal. That’s all they wanted. A good show. And that’s exactly what she planned on giving them. She inhaled deeply before standing beside the turntables. She didn’t bother introducing herself. She just shuffled through the box she’d sent ahead. The neat lettering on the side told her it was hers, and she selected the remix she’d spent the most time on. Within seconds, Octavia managed to get her music started.

The ponies on the dancefloor didn’t hesitate to begin moving in time to the beat, and Octavia felt a slight thrill that everything was going right. She watched from her spot at the DJ tables as ponies bumped flanks and grinded against each other. While she admittedly found the clear view of so much grinding and bumping a little disturbing, she was ecstatic to see ponies enjoying her remixes. The song came to an end and Octavia hurried to get the next one started. She still had a few hours left to go, and she wasn’t going to waste a single second.

Chilly night air blew against Octavia’s sweaty face and she smiled, shutting her eyes. It was almost two in the morning, but she’d never felt more awake in her life. Everypony had walked by, telling her she’d easily been the best DJ of the night.

“Are you the pony that was just up there?” A small unicorn, no older than fourteen, had just left the club. Octavia nodded, taking in the mare’s wild appearance. Her wild blue mane stuck out everywhere, and her bright magenta eyes were wide.

“You were amazing! One day, I’ll be just like you, and we can go on tour together, and nopony will come between us!” The unicorn threw her hooves around Octavia in a hug, taking the grey mare by surprise. The unicorn trotted off and looked back over her shoulder.

“You and me, Mel, we’ll be unstoppable!”

I was one of the lucky ones. Every amature night, ponies that work for big record deals and whatnot are swarming the place, looking for new talent. I happened to be one they liked. Instead of playing dubtrot, like most ponies there, I was playing house music. It was more electronic than the heavy base most DJs rely on today. They liked how different I was. Headlines called me ‘The New Sound Equestria Needed’. They didn’t even care I was only thirteen. To them, talent was talent. It was hard getting me booked, since most bars and nightclubs didn’t want to hire a thirteen year old filly, but as the months passed, they cared less and less about how young I was. I was a national sensation. I had gigs in Canterlot, Manehatten, and Los Pegasus. Even Ponyville was trying to rack up the savings to please my managers enough into booking me for one night.

My mother was furious, of course. Her daughter, her little Octavia Melody, off making money with ‘evil music’. She made me keep up the cello, naturally. It was the only way she’d let me go on tour. My father had moved to Canterlot once I was old enough to know the truth about my mother’s affair, so I no longer had him around to get me out of the tedious activity. Don’t get me wrong, I love the cello, and I love what it’s done for me as of late, but as a young teenager, I wanted to be out on the party scene. I resented my mother, and my cello. I neglected the cello, and I neglected my mother. I did anything I could to avoid my mother, and avoid playing the cello. I took the whole ‘teenage rebellion’ to a new level. I was out of control, and by the time I realised I really should straighten out and clean up my image, it was too late to apologise to my mother.

The mare in the pale satin sheets shook as another coughing fit came over her. Octavia placed a cold rag on her mother’s head, trying not to think about the movers that were currently working to get all of Octavia’s things packed and on the next train to Canterlot, where she would be put straight onto a boat to begin her tour.

“Where’s the first location on your world tour, Octavia Melody?”

“The Uneighted Kingdom,” Octavia replied instantly, smoothing the cool rag out so the chilly water trickled down her mother’s feverish forehead. “Though it’s not really a world tour. Just a few locations in the Uneighted Kingdom, then I go to Germaneigh and Scoltland, and finally I come back here, to Manehatten.”

“No Saddle Arabia? The Manehatten Orchestra goes to Saddle Arabia every single year.”

“There are too many problems in Saddle Arabia, mother. My management would prefer if I stayed to the more...stable nations, for now.” Her mother sighed and shook her head, muttering to herself about the unreliability of ponies these days. Octavia was about to calm her mother down, but the older mare began coughing up a storm. Her body shook with each cough, the fragile body seizing up and shaking the bed. Octavia removed the warm towel from her mother’s head and replaced it with a colder one, trying to ignore that the fever was, if anything, getting worse.

She knew her mother was dying. There was nothing that anypony could do to prevent it. She’d gotten sick, and she hadn’t gotten better. They’d tried of course. Doctors from all over had tried to help the dying mare, but nothing had worked. Everything they’d tried had only weakened the poor mare. All that was left was to make sure she was comfortable as she spent her last few days. Dissonance stilled and Octavia smoothed her mother’s cool towel.

“Mother, listen to me. I want...I want to apologise for not being the daughter I know you wish you had. I should have tried harder. I know it’s been a tough couple of months, but I’ll do my best to make the rest of your time easier. I wasn’t the best daughter, and for that, I am deeply sorry. From here on out, I’ll be the daughter you always wanted. A daughter you can be proud of.” She paused, waiting for her mother’s reply, but there was nothing. “Mother?”

I cancelled my world tour after my mother died. Management was furious, of course, but they understood. I couldn’t in good conscious go out and do what I’d promised my mother I wouldn’t. She’d died before I could apologise, but I’d still made the promise. I was still the DJ pony I had made myself up to be, but I didn’t go on world tours. I stayed local, and even that ate away at my conscious. I was only fifteen, and I was spending night after night awake in my room, apologising to a mare that was long gone. Once I’d decided living in a hotel with my manager, feeling guilty about my shows, was no life to live I wrote to my father, asking him if he had any spare room for me. He wrote back with enthusiasm, thrilled his daughter was coming home. We never spoke of my mother, but that was alright.

At this point, I had finished my short stint as M3L0DY. There was outcry as I vanished off the face of the planet. Of course, in reality, that isn’t at all what happened. I just dyed my mane back to normal, grew it out, and ditched the DJ garb. I took to schooling in Canterlot, at the esteemed Institute for the Musically Gifted.

“What if I’m not good enough?” Octavia paced back and forth, constantly blowing her mane out of her face. She was still unused to her new look, and she was still often surprised to find that the purple was no longer there.

“Octavia, you’re the best cello player I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. Your mother did one thing right putting you in those lessons. Trust me, the Institute would be lucky to have you.” Arpeggio Philharmonica ruffled his daughter’s mane with a hoof.

“But what if I’m not good enough? I’m rusty. It’s been far too long since I’ve played the cello.”

“If you can become world famous after a few weeks on turntables, you can get into a school with several years of the cello. Now go, before you miss your bus,”

Octavia could feel the stares the judges gave her, and she worried for a moment if they recognised her. Of course they couldn’t. They would never listen to house music, or have any association with it. Like her mother, they believed the music to be ‘evil’. However, it was still off putting. Finally, one of the unicorns on the panel cleared their throat.

“Thank you, Miss Philharmonica. Normally, we wouldn’t have even let you audition. You realise the special circumstances you are under, being a transfer, and your father’s generous donations...well, it would have been foolish not to at least hear you play. We’re willing to allow you a place in our school. Not many earth ponies can play the cello with such skill. Welcome to the Institute,”

It was lovely, being admitted into the school so late in the year. Some ponies wait months to get in. I was truly lucky. The schooling was excellent, and I have the Institution to thank for where I am today. It was thanks to the Institution’s teachings I was able to play at the Grand Galloping Gala three years in a row.

The Institution also has all my gratitude, for it was the place I met my marefriend, Vinyl Scratch. There was outcry all across Equestria when we announced we were together. Vinyl, the DJ legend, and Octavia, classy, refined, cello extraordinaire. But in all honesty, had anypony known us in our childhood, it makes sense. After all, she herself had said it just a few years ago, that nopony would ever come between us.

Octavia glanced around her dormroom, issued to her now that she was in her twenties and legally allowed to live on campus. She felt it was pointless now that she was in her last year of schooling, but it was nice to have that extra half hour of sleep.

It seemed her roommate had already arrived, as there was that obvious flare of personal touch. Octavia was rather shocked by the decorations on the walls. Her own smile flashed down at her from all over, her own words pasted in newspaper clippings around half the room. A giant picture of her last gig with ‘WHERE IS SHE NOW?’ in big letters above it. It was only a few years ago, but Octavia felt like it had been so long since she’d seen those purple streaks, so long since she’d seen those fishnet stockings...

“Are you a fan of Mel’s too?”

“Pardon?” Octavia turned around for another blast-to-the-past. It was the mare. The strange one from her very first gig, standing here in her dormroom.

“Mel. She was a big deal a few years ago, and she just...vanished. Nopony knows where she went, but it’s my life goal to live up to her name. I met her once, before she got discovered. I promised her we’d be famous together, and that we could go on tour. Maybe if she sees how famous I’ll get, she’ll come out of hiding. I’m Vinyl, but my DJ name is P0N-3, with a zero instead of an ‘o’, and a three at the end, the way Mel had a three in her name.”

Octavia was speechless. She remembered that first encounter just from the strangeness of it all, but she’d never expected to see this mare again.

“I’m afraid I’ve never heard of her,” Octavia lied. “I’m here studying classical music. I play the cello. DJ’s aren’t really my strong point. My name is Octavia, and it appears we’ll be roommates this year.”

“Hopefully really good friends, too!” Vinyl said with a smile. “Just because we’re studying different paths doesn’t mean we can’t get along. We can go get ice cream or something after classes on Friday and talk about our first week back,”

“That would be lovely,”

It was more of a surprise to me than anypony when I realised I was developing feelings for this mare. What would my mother have said if I’d brought home a mare, especially a mare like Vinyl Scratch, and said we had developed a relationship? Of course, circumstances being as they were, I didn’t have to worry about that. My father continued to be supportive, and even helped Vinyl pay her way through university so we could both attend the same school. Most ponies falter their relationships in university, but if anything, Vinyl and I remained strong. We stuck together through university, and, as everypony knows, I graduated with the highest honours, and was instantly recruited by the Royal Orchestra, while Vinyl made headlines as P0N-3.

And then, once again, things turned sour. I was getting ready to head off to Manehatten for potential recruitment for the Institute, and Vinyl was planning on coming along to spread her name across Equestria. That’s when my father had his first heart attack. He was in the hospital for three days, and he begged me to go on with my own life, but I couldn’t leave my father when he was ill. I’d learned not to make that mistake again. I cancelled my appointments and Vinyl and I instead let my father into the apartment we’d rented together, selling his home to pay for his medical bills. He had only lived with us a short month when he had his second heart attack, landing him in the hospital for the duration of his life.

Octavia took to Vinyl’s side, trying not to tear up again. Her father was not recovering. His speech was slurring more by the day, and his movement had all but improved. Vinyl kissed her marefriend’s head softly. Currently, Arpeggio was sleeping soundly, his machines beeping as they provided the dying body life.

“I only just reconnected with him such a short time ago,” Octavia whispered. “He can’t go now,”

“I know, Octy. But sometimes, life gives you shit. And we gotta deal with that shit, like it or not, you know?” Vinyl had lost both her parents at a young age. She understood how unfair life could be. It was nice to have her there. Octavia cuddled beside her marefriend, watching the machines monitor her father’s heart rate and dozing in her chair.

“You two don’t have to spend the entire night here, you know,” Arpeggio had woken, startling Octavia awake. “I know you mares have your own lives to get on with. You don’t need to bother with a dying stallion,”

“Daddy, don’t talk that way,” Octavia said, untangling herself from Vinyl and leaning forward to talk to her father. “You’re going to be just fine. The doctors-”

“-have said before that I’m dying, Octavia. I’m not a foolish stallion. I’ve heard what they have to say when they think I’m asleep,” Arpeggio’s breath came in short, shuddering gasps, and his eyes were puffy and red. His health was declining rapidly in his old age. Octavia hated seeing her father this way.

“Daddy...”

“Octavia, you’re still young. You have your entire life ahead of you. You play with the Royal Orchestra. How many ponies your age can say that? Go out, live your life, and stop worrying about me,”

Vinyl came up behind Octavia and rubbed a hoof on her shoulder. “When my parents died, there was nothing I could do. I had to let them go. I had to move on. I still miss them, more than anything, but I can’t let it keep me holed up in a hospital room.”

“She has a point,” Arpeggio said with a chuckle. “You have things to do that are far more important than-” Arpeggio was cut off by a fit of coughs. At first, it seemed he was just clearing his throat, but the coughing quickly escalated into a full on fit. The monitors in the room started beeping, startling Octavia into slamming her hoof onto the ‘Call Nurse’ button. Almost instantly, nurses flooded the room, ushering Vinyl and Octavia out into the hall, slamming Arpeggio Philharmonica’s door shut.

“What’s happening?” Octavia asked of any nurses who came out of the room. They all gave her a sad, hurried glance, pushing past her, returning within seconds with needles, medications, and a slew of things Octavia didn’t recognise.

“It’ll be okay,” Vinyl tried, but Octavia wasn’t listening. Her eyes were fixed on her father’s door, willing one of the nurses or doctors to come out and allow her to go back to her conversation.

“He has to be alright,” Octavia whispered, more to herself than anything. “I didn’t get to say goodbye,”

The two were sent into a waiting room, where they sat in silence until a pale pink mare with a frizzy red mane came into the waiting room, a sad expression on her face as she approached Octavia.

We waited for three hours to hear the news of my father’s passing. Three long, painful hours in the dark. After hearing the news, I was destroyed. My father had no blood relation to me, but he was more of a parent to me than my mother ever could have been. The love and respect I hold for Arpeggio Philharmonica, even today, far surpasses the respect I have for even Princess Celestia herself. Even Vinyl held a great deal of respect for him, and she very rarely respected anypony.

My father’s funeral was a simple affair. His father, who passed away this last year, was in attendance, and gave a beautiful speech on the value of life. A few of my aunts and uncles whom I had never met were there, telling me what a wonderful stallion my father had been, and how lucky I was to have gotten to know him the way I did. There were a few speakers, but I was not one of them. I couldn’t get up the strength to say any final goodbyes to my father. Not in front of all those other ponies. Vinyl, surprisingly, stepped up and spoke for me. It turns out that she had more to say than anypony else at the funeral.

“There’s a lot I’d like to say about Arpeggio Philharmonica,” Vinyl began, looking to Octavia. The grey mare nodded, wiping the fresh tears from her eyes. Vinyl cleared her throat and went on. “He was the most accepting pony I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. All of you here know the mare Arpeggio cared for as his own daughter. She’s a mare I’ve grown to care about greatly, and Arpeggio allowed me to enter her life, and remain a huge part of it.

“Arpeggio Philharmonica saw ponies as something more. He knew there was more to them than just outside stuff. He accepted me into his daughter’s life just as easily as Octavia did. He understood what it meant to love somepony with every fiber of your being. He understood me. And that was more than most ponies did for me, back when I met him.

“He encouraged me when nopony else did. He supported me when I had nopony else. I never got to know my father. He died before I was born. I don’t know what kind of stallion he was, or what kind of father he would have been, but I do know that if I had a choice, I would have wanted a father like Arpeggio. Rest easy, sir. And thank you for everything you’ve done.” Vinyl stepped down from the pedestal she was on and approached Octavia, returning to her seat. Octavia was stunned. Most of the relatives had nothing more to say other than the standard, ‘Arpeggio was a great stallion, he will be missed’, and a few stories about his childhood.

“That was very nice,” Octavia whispered, nudging her marefriend gently. Vinyl shrugged.

“I tried my best. You think he would’ve liked it?”

“I think he would have,” Octavia smiled.

After my father’s death, Vinyl and I continued our lives, as my father had wanted us to. It was hard, living without him there, but everypony was right- life goes on. We had a steady income, from Vinyl’s gigs and my concerts. Vinyl always buzzed about becoming more and more well known. She could have sworn that she was closer than ever to bringing M3L0DY out of hiding. I always felt awful acting as though I didn’t know a thing about Mel’s disappearance. Nothing excited Vinyl as much as the idea that she could be the one to bring Equestria’s most mysterious DJ back into the spotlight.

I suppose that’s what brought about my second love for DJing. I found myself listening to Vinyl’s music, even when Vinyl wasn’t home. I fell in love with electronic music all over again, and I even helped Vinyl with her music at times. She never suspected a thing about my relationship to her idol. Not once did it cross her mind that simple old Octavia was really DJ M3L0DY.

Vinyl added more tape to the newspaper clipping that was peeling off her wall, chatting excitedly.

“This could be it, Octy! This could be the gig that brings Mel out of hiding! She’ll come to my show to see what I’m all about, and she’ll remember me as the mare from her very first show ever! We’ll become a power duo! You’re gonna love her, Octy. She has this...this passion for music and I can’t wait for all three of us to get together and just play.”

“Vinyl, don’t you think this is getting a bit out of hoof? You’ve been saying for years now that you’re going to finally get her out of hiding, and you never have,” Octavia avoided looking at Vinyl, afraid that something would finally tip her off about her secret past life. It was getting harder and harder not to just admit that she was the mare Vinyl was so eager to find.

“Out of hoof? Octy, I’ve just gotten started! Look, tonight is my first ever sold out show. First. Ever. Sold out! That means every single ticket was sold, Octy! There were like, six hundred of them! Maybe Mel bought one of the tickets! Maybe Mel will be out there tonight, and she’ll tell me she’s been rooting for me since we met!”

“Vinyl, I don’t think she’s going to be there,” Octavia said with a sigh. “When are you going to let go of this silly dream that you’re going to be the pony to bring her out of hiding? There are plenty of DJs out there. You’re wonderful, Vinyl, you truly are, but if I was going to come out of hiding, don’t you think it would have been ages ago, for one of the many others who sell out shows every night?” Octavia didn’t realise her mistake until Vinyl stared at her, mouth hanging open.

“You said ‘I’.”

“What?”

“Just now. You said ‘if I was going to come out of hiding’,” Vinyl stared at her marefriend and squinted. “You have the same eyes. And maybe, if you put dye in your mane...and got you a new wardrobe...the age totally matches up...” Vinyl’s eyes jumped to the news clipping on the wall, noting, for the first time, the hardly visible cutie mark on the black-and-white DJ’s flank. “You even have the same cutie mark!”

“I don’t know what you’re implying,” Octavia huffed. “My cutie mark is very common amongst musicians. It’s not at all unreasonable to assume that we just happen to have the same mark.”

“Octy, I want you to be honest with me. I need to know. Are you Mel?” It was silent while Octavia fumbled to find the words she needed. Vinyl was staring at her, her eyes shining with excitement.

“I--” There was no point in lying. Vinyl knew. Octavia nodded her head slowing, her eyes focused on the carpet at her feet.

“I KNEW IT!” Vinyl screamed. “I knew it! I knew it was you! Holy shit, Octy, wait until I tell everyone in the studio! They’re gonna flip! I found her...you...Mel! I found Mel! I’m dating Mel! Wait until everyone in the studio hears that I slept with Mel!”

“No,” Octavia said calmly. “Vinyl, you can’t tell anypony. That life...it’s behind me. I’m on my way to becoming the First Chair Cellist for the Royal Orchestra. This will ruin my career.”

“Then you can go back to being Mel full time! Octy, we can go on tour together! We’ll make bits by the millions! Do you have any idea how much ponies will pay to see you on stage again?”

“There are plenty of ponies who pay a hefty amount of bits to see me on stage now,” Octavia pointed out. “I’m happy with my job, Vinyl. Besides, why would anypony pay to see a classical musician turned DJ?” Octavia tried not to make eye contact. She knew that Vinyl would do anything to get her to dye her mane again. Anything to get her to wear those old fishnets. It was an accident when Octavia looked up and made eye contact, growing weak at the puppy-dog eyes Vinyl was shooting her way.

“Just one show, Octy. Tonight. A surprise guest appearance. I’ll dye your mane with magic so it’ll come out right after the show. You can borrow some of my clothes instead of getting new stuff. Just one show, Octy, please?”

Octavia knew if she did this one show, Vinyl would beg her to do more. But she also knew if she said no, Vinyl wouldn’t rest until Octavia agreed. Octavia didn’t even have time to reluctantly agree before Vinyl threw herself around her, squealing in excitement.

“You’re not gonna regret this, Octy, I swear! See, just like I promised, we’re gonna be unstoppable!”

Octavia couldn’t believe how long it had been since she was anywhere near a club. Vinyl had invited her to every gig, of course, but Octavia had always passed out of fear of being recognised. She pulled her cloak tighter around her body, trying to hide her face. Her reveal was going to be a surprise. Nopony, not even the bouncers, could know that Mel was in the building.

“Name?”

“P0N-3,” Vinyl said, her voice more professional than Octavia had ever heard it before. The bouncer glared at the cloak-covered Octavia, and Vinyl levitated a small sack in front of him. “She’s with me. Special guest,” The bouncer nodded and took the sack of bits, storing it in his saddle bags.

“Here,” he grunted, handing Vinyl a pair of identical bracelets. “Drinks are on the house for all performers,” Vinyl slid her bracelet on and used magic to slide the other on Octavia’s hoof without the bouncer seeing the bangles Octavia was wearing. It was unlikely that he would guess who she was just from bracelets, but Vinyl hadn’t wanted to risk anything.

The two mares made their way inside the building. The music was deafening, but Vinyl perked up, bobbing her head in time with the beats.

“This is Lights’s music!” Vinyl shouted. “It’s just a demo, but this means he might get a live gig soon!”

“That’s nice!” Octavia shouted back. “Are there any other live acts tonight?”

“No, just us!” Vinyl made her way backstage and peeked around the curtain. All her stuff was already set up. Octavia would be playing Vinyl’s music tonight, but Vinyl had made sure to only pick tracks the two had worked on together. Vinyl set to messing up her mane to give it the party style she desired, and Octavia settled with looking into a mirror. She didn’t recognise the pony she saw in her reflection. The purple streaks, the matted coat, the fishnets...it was a pony from a long time ago.

“We’re on!” Vinyl shouted. “Remember, I’ll introduce you as special guest after the first song, once the crowd is warmed up. Keep that cloak on until you come onstage. We can’t risk anyone seeing you early and spoiling the surprise.” The unicorn hurried onstage, and Octavia heard the stomping of approving hooves. Vinyl got right into the music, not stopping to introduce herself, or say any words of thanks for the turnout. Octavia could only picture through memory the way ponies must have been dancing.

“What’s good everypony?” Vinyl cried, getting roars of approval from her audience. “As everypony here knows, this is a sold out event! You guys are amazing!” More cheers. “My first sold out event, if we’re being honest. And since you all are so awesome, I have a surprise for you. A special guest, if you will,” there were more cheers, and Octavia loosened her cloak. She inhaled deeply and glanced at Vinyl, who turned and nodded. Octavia dropped the cloak and stepped onstage.

“Everypony stomp your hooves for DJ M3L0DY!”

The cheers were more deafening than the music. Almost everypony on the dancefloor knew who Mel was. They were the party scene, the ones who tried to figure out what had happened to the DJ who’d made it so young, and then vanished. Almost every single one of Vinyl’s fans had been on the same search, trying to help Vinyl find the mysterious mare. Octavia tossed her mane back, out of her face, and took up a spot beside Vinyl.

“Mel here has agreed to be my special guest for the night!” Vinyl said, gesturing to Octavia.

“She’s just so good, I couldn’t resist coming out,” Octavia said, trying to keep her voice low and unrecognizable. She nudged her marefriend’s shoulder and Vinyl flashed her a smile. Octavia nodded towards the crowd. Vinyl surrendered use of the turntables to Octavia, and the grey mare let loose the pony she’d been holding back since she was a teenager.

As expected, Vinyl wouldn’t let me have just that one show. The one show turned into two shows, and before I knew it, we were being promoted as a duo, set for a world tour. I have to admit, the double life was thrilling. I would play cello with the orchestra in the evenings, and by the late hours of the night, I was Mel. Vinyl’s only regret was that she couldn’t behave as my marefriend when I was in costume. It would be bad for our images- doubly so for myself- if Vinyl was caught cheating on Octavia with Mel.

Vinyl’s prediction about us being unstoppable was an understatement. Every show we played together was sold out, with bouncers having to pull ponies who hadn’t paid out of the building the entire night. Even shows Vinyl did by herself were suddenly all the rage. Everypony loved her. She was living out her dream. Making bits by the millions, performing with her childhood inspiration, and she couldn’t get over the fact that she had finally brought Mel out of hiding.

As for me, I loved being back in the spotlight as Mel. My teenage rebellion had been cut short, and I was taking it all in now. Every now and then, it was nice to escape back to being Octavia. I went out as Mel every now and again, but she was swarmed by teenagers and young adults alike. Octavia’s fans were much more polite, and I could go about my business without hundreds of cameras going off, or swarms of ponies begging for my autograph.

Being Mel was fun. But being Octavia was easier. I wasn’t a teenager anymore. I couldn’t handle the long hours that Vinyl had grown used to. DJing was Vinyl’s only job. She could sleep all day and party all night, and nothing would come of it. I had to be up early each morning and go to rehearsals. Vinyl, who’s tolerance had grown quite high in her career, could knock back drinks all day long. I, however, could only have one or two a night before deciding I’d had quite enough. The night life wasn’t the life I wanted, so when Vinyl was offered a real tour with Mel as her opening act, I had to decline.

“But Octy,”

“But nothing, Vinyl. This has been fun, really, it has, but for the thousandth time, I’m ready to retire for good. Besides, I can’t possibly go on a world tour and leave the Orchestra for that long a time! What excuse could I possibly give?”

“Just tell them you’re going on vacation with your marefriend,”

“They all know you’re going on tour, Vinyl. They’ll know it’s not a vacation. I’ve already explained to the management that I’m retiring. They’re running the story tomorrow morning. It should be in papers by the time you board your train tomorrow. It was fun, but I can’t keep up with it the way you can,” Octavia truly was sorry to let Vinyl down, but all good things had to end at some point. “Think of it this way- you’ll always be remembered as the mare who brought Mel out of hiding,”

“Yeah, and the mare who sent her right back. You can’t do this to me, Octy! We have a world tour. That’s the entire world. We’ll get to go to Mareis, Tavi. You’ve always wanted to go to Mareis. We’d take a train from Mareis into Maresailles, Tavi, it’d be amazing,” Vinyl had a point. Octavia had always wanted to go to Prance, but it just wasn’t possible. She was too busy with the Orchestra to go off around the world. She had her own tour to prepare for, with the Orchestra.

“Vinyl, I can’t. I would love to, but I can’t. My career-”

“What about my career, Octavia?” Vinyl snapped. “All those ponies out there, they aren’t paying to just see me. They’re paying to see you too. If you don’t come, all those sold out shows are going to be empty. They’ll return their tickets, and that’ll be the end of me,”

“Vinyl, you’re being silly. These ponies love you, and they’re not about to miss out on your shows just because I’m not there. You’ll be fine. You’ll be just as popular without me opening for you,”

“No, I won’t! I need you, Mel,” Vinyl pulled her puppy dog eyes. It had gotten Octavia to agree to that first show, and Vinyl seemed sure it would work again this time. But Octavia had long since grown immune to the batting eyelashes and the pout.

“My name is Octavia,” she said forcefully. “And I will not be joining you on tour. I will, of course, see you off, and I’m sure you’ll write to me after you’ve arrived in Baltimare?”

“Yeah, sure,” Vinyl muttered. “After I check into my hotel. Number one priority, you know that. You’re my number one priority,”

“Then you should understand that I can’t go,” Octavia pressed.

“Fine, I get it. You’re not coming with. Got it. We should go to bed. The train leaves pretty early tomorrow,”

Vinyl left for Baltimare that morning without so much as a kiss goodbye. She was still upset that I hadn’t gone with her, and many times, I wish I had. She saw parts of the world that I never got to see, nor will I ever get the chance to visit. She wrote every chance she could, but mail takes ages to arrive when shipped overseas, so I heard from her sparingly, and near the end, each letter was short. Every single one ended with ‘I wish you here here’. Some days, I thought about packing up and surprising her in her next city, but I knew it was silly of me. I had my commitment to the Orchestra, and the papers had already run the story.

Nopony was too shocked and confused when the story of my retirement from DJing ran the second time. When I was younger, it was a complete shock- I’d just begun my career and I was on the rise. But in my older years, it was expected that I finish it off sometime. Most ponies don’t continue DJing much past their mid-twenties, and Vinyl and I were nearing our thirties. Vinyl herself had, in the past, expressed retiring after her first world tour. We certainly had the money to live off just what I was paid with the Orchestra, especially with me getting ready to set out to Saddle Arabia with them, to perform the the annual Peace Conference headed by Princess Celestia.

From Vinyl’s letters, I gathered she was doing quite well without me there. The newspapers didn’t mention her much, since she was overseas, but when they did, they talked about how her turnout was excellent, and how she would sometimes do three or four encores. I was proud of her, and I expressed that pride in every single letter I sent her. At first, she would send me these long letters, describing how beautiful things were, and I would reply, telling her we had to take a trip there in our elderly years, when we were just living off our earnings in comfortable retirement. Towards the end, however, things were different. Her letters were shorter, and held less detail. Where she would once describe the vivid colours and the smells of the bakeries in the streets, she simply said ‘it’s nice here’ and ‘the food is good’. I understood she was busy, but I couldn’t imagine she’d still be upset with me.

It turns out her shorter letters were all from overseas. As she had predicted, many ponies had demanded refunds upon learning I would not be there. There were still hundreds, if not thousands of ponies that went to see Vinyl, but the few that demanded refunds in each city pained her, and reminded her that I should have been there with her. The last letter I received from her was the letter she sent from Mareis, which I have attached here for your reading pleasure.

Tavi,

I just got to Mareis like, this morning. It’s probably two here, I don’t know. I know you’ve always wanted to come here, so I won’t tell you too much. I’ll bring you here when we’re old and wrinkly and you can experience everything for the first time. You’ll love it. I already love it and I’ve been here two hours, and all I’ve seen is from the train station to the hotel. I’ll be here for a few weeks. Tomorrow is my last show for a while, and then I get a break. Traveling takes forever, otherwise I’d come see you. I wish I was a pegasus. They can just fly anywhere in the world they want and take naps on clouds all the time. That’s the way to travel for sure.

Anyway, I don’t think I’ll have time to write since I’ve got a concert and a lotta food to eat, and management wants me to meet with locals and whatnot, so I’ll write you for sure when I get to Maresailles. I get on that train two weeks from now (thankfully it’s a short train this time). It takes two weeks for post to get from here to you. You’ll get this the same time I get on that train. Cool.
I wish you were here,
-V

I was so very jealous that she was enjoying Prance, and I was here, but I had made my choice. When I got the letter, I set to writing a reply right away. I normally sent my letters to hotels she would be staying at weeks after the date I received it, so it would be waiting for her when she arrived, but I never got a chance to send the one I wrote the day I received her letter from Mareis. I was caught up in things to do that day, and never did have a chance to make it to the post office.

Of course, Vinyl never had the chance to make it to Maresailles.

Octavia sighed in relief as she lowed her cello to the ground, popping open the case. She was a tad confused as to why the others weren’t already rehearsing. They had stared at her when she came in, and hadn’t spoken a word to her all morning. She hadn’t been late, and she couldn’t think of any reason they would be upset with her, so she just set about her business, humming the piece she would be rehearsing that day and mentally reminding herself to mail that letter out to Vinyl’s hotel later.

It was about twenty minutes into playing that Octavia realised the others still weren’t doing anything aside from whispering to each other. She found this very odd. They were classical musicians, high above the petty gossip of other ponies, so what they could possibly be talking about was beyond Octavia. She continued to play, hoping that one of them would finally follow her lead and pick up their instrument so they could rehearse. However, she got through her entire part of their opening number for the Peace Conference, and not one of them had moved an inch.

“What in Equestria are you up to? We’ve got a very big concert in just over a month, and we can’t afford to be sitting around chatting all morning,”

“Have you not heard?” The pianist, Frederic, asked. “It’s all over the papers,”

“What’s all over the papers?” Octavia asked. Frederic rustled around behind his sheet music before pulling a newspaper out and flipping through the pages. He passed it over to Octavia, who scanned the page he had turned to.

Octavia stopped reading and shook her head, confused. It was a short train ride. It should have been no more than an hour, if the books she’d read about Prance were up to date. Bad things didn’t happen on short rides. They happened on the painfully long ones. Short ones were safe. The paper was wrong. Perhaps some other poor pony had been killed, and they just thought it was Vinyl. Her manager was probably in Prance right now, arguing with newspaper companies for printing such awful lies.

“I’m sorry, Octavia,” Frederic said, his voice heavy. “Beauty Brass thought it was only right for you to know, but I wanted to wait until Vinyl’s manager-” there was a creak as the door to the rehearsal room opened, revealing a large stallion with lanky limbs and a dark suit.

“Octavia,” he said, and Octavia froze. That was Vinyl’s manager’s voice. He was not in Prance, fighting over a misprint. He was here, in Canterlot, looking for her.

“Yes, sir?” Octavia held her head straight up, trying to look strong. If she projected strength, perhaps she could fool herself into thinking that she was strong enough not to break down in tears when he told her the news she didn’t want to hear.

“Come with me, please,” she had never heard Clip say please once in the time she’d known him. He commanded, ordered, not requested. Not asked nicely. Swallowing down her emotions, Octavia followed her marefriend’s manager out into the little hallway that led to the main auditorium. They didn’t go past the door to the rehearsal room, and for a long while, the stallion before her was unusually silent, his face somber and his eyes focused on anything but Octavia.

“I’ve read the paper,” Octavia managed to say. “Is it true? Is she...” Octavia couldn’t bring herself to finish that sentence, but Clip knew what she meant. He sighed deeply and nodded his head once, confirming everything Octavia didn’t want to know. She had tried being strong, but the second she saw his nod, her legs could no longer support her weight, and she collapsed to the ground, sobbing. Clip, normally cold and distant, wrapped a hoof around Octavia, holding her against him and letting her cry. His kindness and warmth somehow made everything worse. He would have never acted this way had Vinyl been around. That’s not the kind of pony he was. His embrace now was not the comfort he thought it was, but a vicegrip around her, squeezing the air from her lungs as a firm, painful solidification that Vinyl Scratch was gone.

I did not go to my marefriend’s funeral. My mother’s had been hard. My father’s, even worse. But Vinyl’s? How could I go to a funeral where there would be paparazzi taking photos from the bushes? Where fans would be trying to sneak in to pay their respects to a pony they didn’t know? Where news crews would be trying to interview me so they could print a whole story about the poor marefriend left behind? No, I couldn’t go through all that. I went to visit her grave, once the ceremony was over. I said my goodbyes in private. No cameras, no fans, no interviews. Just me, sitting by the side of her grave, talking to her.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t at your funeral. I’m sure you understand. It wouldn’t be a true celebration of your memory if all anypony was trying to do was make a quick bit off a few pictures of me sobbing over your casket. If there had been any way to guarantee that only your real friends and family had been there, I would have gone. But I just couldn’t, Vinyl, and I’m sorry. I wasn’t there for you in life, and you’ve been dead such a short time and I’ve failed you again.

“I should have gone on tour with you. To Tartarus with Saddle Arabia. I’ve already informed the Orchestra I’m not going. I can’t go now. How can I play those cheery songs when I’ve got nothing to smile about?” Octavia sighed and shook her head. “No, I suppose that’s unfair to your memory. I’m sorry, Vinyl.

“When my dad was in the hospital, you told me, and I hate saying this word, so feel very lucky here, that life gave us shit, and that we had to deal with that shit. I suppose this is just the shit life throws at us, right? And I have to pick myself up and live my life. You wouldn’t want me wasting my life away here in front of this gravestone, moping about the life we could have had. You would want me to mourn, and then pick myself up and move forward. That’s what you would do, if the roles were reversed. You were always so strong, Vinyl, so much stronger than me. You were capable of things that I could never do, and moving on is one of those things. You’ll be in my heart always, Vinyl Scratch. And I can’t promise you that I’ll be able to fully live my life, but I can promise you that I’ll try to keep moving forward. That I’ll do everything I possibly can to live whatever life I have left to the fullest, in your memory,”

I believe I’ve done her memory justice. Aside from missing the Saddle Arabia concert, I’ve put my entire life into playing for the Orchestra. I made first chair shortly after the Orchestra’s return, and I went on to play with them at many a Gala. I was even asked to play solo a few times, and I have performed many solo concerts for the Princesses and their families. I made headlines as the youngest mare to ever come as far as I have, and I have Vinyl to thank for my success. Tragedy took her from me, but the things she taught me while she was here, that’s what motivated me to live the life I have. And if it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have been able to accomplish all the things I have, and I’m very glad to have done what I have now, as my body is beginning to slow down, and I could never do any of those things in my current state.

As you all already know, I have retired quite early from the Orchestra. I have not been honest as to why. I have told everypony that it is because my Orchestra days have reached their end, but this is far from true. I would love to continue playing the cello among my friends and colleagues, but unfortunately, it’s not something I can manage anymore.

Octavia coughed into her handkerchief, waiting for the doctor to call her in. The little red spots on the napkin she held were worrying, but she was sure the doctor could explain what was happening. She had been in a week ago for some testing, when the red spots had first started appearing, and now she was supposed to be receiving her results.

“Philharmonica?” The nurse at the door called. Octavia stood up and was suddenly overcome with dizziness. Dismissing it as standing too quickly, Octavia took a deep breath and followed her nurse into the back room. The doctor was there, a clipboard hovering in front of his face as he scanned over a sheet of information.

“Hello, Octavia,”

“Hello, Doctor,” Octavia sat on the bed that was usually reserved for when patients were receiving check ups, but the room was spinning and she needed to get her bearings.

“Octavia, you said last week your mother died of a disease that doctors hadn’t seen before, correct?”

“Yes, sir. She was only in her late forties,” Octavia was slightly worried, but she tried to put it aside. She was only thirty eight. She probably just had a strange bug.

“Did they suggest you get any tests done?”

“They ran a blood test, but it came back normal,” Octavia said, remembering her relief back then when they’d told her she was healthy as a lamb.

“Octavia, I’m afraid you’ve got something on the charts that we can’t recognise. We don’t have anything that can pick up what you’ve got, but there are some foreign substances we found in your blood that are attacking your body from the inside, and your body isn’t winning this fight. It’s killing your immune system,”

“What does that mean?” Octavia asked, her head spinning.

“Whatever this is is trying to kill your immune system so it can't’ fight off illness. You catch a cold right now, and it’ll be like catching the plague. Your body isn’t strong enough to take any form of illness right now, and if this thing keeps attacking your systems, it could start to kill you,”

Octavia thought about her mother. The symptoms were all the same. Coughing up blood, dizziness, fatigue...

“How do we stop it?” She asked. She couldn’t recall what they had done to help her mother. As far as Octavia could remember, her mother had just stayed in bed until the day she died.

“I’m afraid that there’s not much we can do. We can take a sample of your blood and run tests on it, to see if anything we have can kill what’s killing you, and in the meantime we can put you in a medical ward to keep you clear of illness, but until we know what this thing is, we can’t start treatment. We don’t know if what we give you will kill this thing off or make it stronger,”

“I’ll live in the ward,” Octavia said. It was the most obvious thing in the world. Her best chance at survival.

“You couldn’t leave, Octavia. Your career-”

“Oh, damn my career,” Octavia snapped. “I’m dying, and I don’t want to go down without a fight. My mother wanted to live in the comfort of her own home, even if it meant death. I’m not going to sit around waiting for death to find me,”

“Are you sure about this? There’s no guarantee that we’ll be able to find a cure. A treatment, maybe, but a cure seems unlikely at this point,”

“I’m sure,”

I write this in my bed at the medical center, watching the other residents go about their lives. I’m not the only one here who’s dying. As far as they can tell, I’m not contagious. They think my disease is genetic, as a tracing of my family tree shows that my mother’s father died of the same symptoms that I have, and his mother before him. I’m allowed to socialise with others, since nopony here is contagious, and I’ve made a few friends. There’s the elderly mare who can’t seem to remember who she is, but she has so many lovely stories about her family. There’s a young foal here with a blood disease that could kill her any day, but she remains positive and swears she’ll make it through, even when the doctors think it doesn’t look good.

It’s a lovely place. You would think that a building full of dying ponies would be sad, but really it’s not. Everypony here is so full of life, and each one of them believes that they’ll be better one day. As for me, I stay positive, even though the doctors are no closer to finding a treatment for me than they were when they learned I was ill, but that’s alright. They’re hard at work, and even if they can’t save me, they can save somepony else who might have the same sickness that I do. They run all sorts of tests, and they’ve ruled out so many options, that they’re bound to find something that can at least slow this thing down before too long.

I know that I will most likely not survive this. It would be foolish to think I could. My mother died when she was forty six years old, and I’m rapidly approaching my forty fifth birthday. It’s unlikely that they will find an effective treatment in such a short time, and while the thought of no longer existing is scary at times, I take comfort in the fact that it will just be over. No more painful coughing, no more fever, no more aching limbs- just...nothing. It’s comforting to think that I’ll see my mother again soon, and my father, and Vinyl of course.

I’ve had quite a nice life, looking back on it. Yes, terrible things have happened to me, but it’s the bigger picture that counts. I had parents that loved me, and a marefriend that I adored. I had a wonderful job, and excellent friends. The sadness in my life is far, far outweighed by the good, and to dwell on the sad would be a waste of a life. Vinyl once told me that life gives us shit, and we have to deal with that shit. I want to add to her statement now.

Yes, life gives us shit, but it’s what we do with it that matters. And I chose to better myself as a pony. To rise above and move forward. And I encourage all of you to do the same. Maybe I’ll have died by the time this autobiography is published, or maybe I’ll be here in the medical center getting treated, but either way, I’ll have lived my best life, and hopefully, I have inspired you to live yours.

Author's Notes:

So I was working on this for a little over a year. Through time, the idea changed a lot while I was writing it, so it's gone through a lot of editing. The version I've published here is the result of over a year of writing and re-writing, and is actually nowhere near what I had originally planned, but I'm much happier with this story than I would have been had I stuck to my original plan.