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The Gentle Nights: Audience of One

by PaulAsaran

Chapter 4: Śaṃkā

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The Gentle Nights
Audience of One

Chapter IV
Śaṃkā

“Good morning, sister! I presume you had a good night?”

Luna scowled at the waning moon and said nothing. She didn’t even glance Celestia’s way.

The elder sister sat next to her and grinned. “Oooh, I know that look,” Celestia giggled. “It was in your best interest, Luna.”

The Princess of the Night sulked and didn’t stop glaring.

Celestia was entirely unphased. “So is she as talented in real life as she is in her dreams?”

Luna’s teeth ground together as she closed her eyes. “You are not going to deny it this time?”

“Don’t give me that attitude, young filly.” Her sister tapped her on the side of the head playfully. “You only get that look when you’ve been forced to do something you know is good for you.”

She finally turned her burning eyes upon Celestia, her teeth bared as she hissed, “It could have ended in disaster.”

“Ah.” Celestia raised her hoof high. Her eyebrows rose and grin broadened. “Could have. That means it didn’t. Come now, little sister, are you really so upset? You used to do things like this to me all the time.”

“That was before,” Luna grumbled, turning away. “Things are not the same, Celestia.”

“Tia.” Celestia sounded hurt. “Don’t you remember calling me Tia, Lulu?”

Luna sighed, her heart heavy in her chest. “Yes… I remember. Those were happier times. Sometimes I wish we could return to them.”

Celestia heaved a sigh of her own. “There’s nothing wrong with having a little fun every now and then, sister.”

“We are not foals anymore!” Luna shot another glare at her sister. “Our actions have consequences, Celestia. We must be cautious!”

A frown came upon Celestia’s lips. “Luna, you’re taking everything too—”

“—seriously?” Luna’s harsh gaze silenced her. “Yes, I am. I have to, dear sister. Maybe you shall understand that someday, but until you have been through what I have I seriously doubt it.”

Celestia winced and averted her gaze as guilt spread over her features.

Seconds passed as Luna glared, but her frustration gradually faded. She sighed and moved close to nuzzle her sister. “Forgive me, I know you mean well. I only… It is one thing to torment me with your games, Celestia, but please do not involve others in them.”

“I only thought she could help you,” Celestia whispered, returning the motion. “Did she?”

Luna stepped back and averted her eyes with a frown. “She… was a comfort.”

Celestia’s eyes brightened. “Will you see her again?”

A glower met her hopeful look.“You act as though she were a mate to be pursued,” Luna muttered.

The elder sister giggled. “Nopony says ‘mate’ anymore, Luna, except in very intimate situations. I’d avoid the term unless you want to earn some very strange looks.”

Luna blinked, then facehooved with a blush. “I shall keep that in mind.”

Another giggle from Celestia. “So? Did you arrange to meet Octavia again?”

“You want her to be part of my daily life, it seems.” Luna turned away with another of her sulking frowns.

Celestia nudged Luna’s shoulder with her muzzle. “I want you to make friends, sister, that’s all. You know how worried I am.”

“Friends…” Luna bowed her head with a sigh. “It has been so long. Do you really think she could accept me?”

The elder sister moved about to look her in the eyes. Her own shined with hope.

“You tell me, Luna. You met her last night, didn’t you? Do you think Octavia might be your friend?”

Luna licked her dry lips, staring into those imploring eyes.

She had no answer.


Octavia kept her head low as she walked through the streets of Canterlot. She refused to look up at the cloudless sky and its glaring sun. Though she had no idea why, today she found Celestia’s great orb annoying. Strange, she usually enjoyed the feeling of its heat on her coat, especially in the cool months of early autumn.

The Music Hall of Canterlot was an unusual structure, conjured up by some ‘new age’ architect who didn’t believe in symmetry or straight lines. Octavia could never be sure if she liked it or not. It certainly drew the eye away from the regular boxes that surrounded it.

She ascended the wave-like steps, nodding to the occasional familiar face and hefting her cello. In the main hall she was spotted by Beauty Brass, who trotted up to her with a pleased smile.

“Well hello, stranger. What brings you to these parts?”

Octavia smiled and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Nice to see you too, BB. Don’t give me that look.”

‘That look’ consisted of pursed lips and a raised eyebrow as Beauty’s neck stretched forward from her shoulders.

“I’ll give you my patented ‘look’ if I want to. Honestly, I haven’t seen you in two months! You’re known for going on isolationist binges, but this might be a record.”

This time Octavia really did roll her eyes. “You know how I am, BB. I thought you’d be used to it by now.”

Beauty pouted, her ears lowering. “I’d remind you that it’s unhealthy, but you’d just ignore my advice. Again.”

Octavia giggled. “That’s because your advice always involves meeting stallions.”

“Or mares,” Beauty added hurriedly with a grin. “Mares work too.”

An annoyed sigh rose from Octavia’s throat. “You’re almost as bad as Parish. Your only saving grace in comparison is that you’re not out for my tail like he is.”

“I know, I know.” Beauty shrugged and promptly struck a haughty pose. She attained her own high-browed manner – as polished and perfect as any elite’s – and spoke in a haughty voice.

“So what brings the lofty Miss Melody to the Music Hall? Surely she does not wish to mingle among the commoners.”

Octavia countered with her own display, flicking her mane back and raising her muzzle. “Of course not. I seek only to utilize the facilities of the Hall, which, though garish in their design, are nonetheless effective in their purpose. Mingle with the commoners, please.”

Beauty snorted, then broke into a fit of giggles. “Yeah, you’ve really got it down by now.”

“Why, thank you.” Octavia smiled and flicked her mane once more, this time in a much more exaggerated fashion. “I’ve been practicing.”

“It shows.” Beauty took a moment to recover her breath. “So are you going to try again?”

Octavia shook her hoof in the air as if to threaten something. “It can’t avoid me forever!”

“Probably not.” Beauty examined Octavia, her smile slowly fading. “Are you alright? You look a bit tired.”

“Really?” Octavia tilted her head and shifted her cello on her back. “I don’t feel tired. Still, I suppose I did have trouble sleeping these past couple nights.”

She paused, a frown forming on her lips as she observed her friend. Beauty had been doing this for a few years more than her, so maybe… “Can I ask you a question?”

Beauty beamed and clapped her hooves together. “Of course!”

Octavia considered the topic that had been on her mind these past few nights, kicking the floor anxiously and averting her eyes.

“Have you ever had a… ‘private’ client?”

“’Private?’” Beauty cocked her head with an uncertain frown. “I’m not sure… Do you mean like being commissioned by a noble to perform at a party? Something like that?”

“No…” Octavia chewed her lip, knowing exactly how her friend would view her situation. Even so, she needed some kind of advice, and she certainly wasn’t going to ask Parish about it.

“I mean… one pony. One pony hires you, and only you, to perform. An audience of one.”

Beauty blinked, staring at Octavia as if she’d never seen her before. After a couple seconds she lowered her head and rubbed her chin with a frown. “Well. That’s certainly… unorthodox. I’ve never heard of it happening, really. Did somepony actually ask you to do that?”

Octavia still couldn’t meet Beauty’s eyes. “Umm… something like it, yes. I didn’t realize what I was getting myself into at the time I agreed to it.”

Then came the wry smile Octavia had known was coming. “Maybe he likes you. It is a ‘he,’ isn’t it?”

“BB, please, this is serious.” Octavia glanced around, very aware of the ponies in the hall. Why was she so anxious?

“I’m being serious.” Beauty nudged her shoulder playfully. “Why else would somepony hire you to do that? Then again—” her cheer faded to uncertainty, “—what if he’s a creep?”

Octavia almost laughed. “No, Beauty, I seriously doubt that the—” She clamped her jaw closed just before the title could spill from her lips, cheeks going red. “I m-mean, I’m pretty sure that’s not the case.”

She coughed self-consciously at Beauty’s raised eyebrow and sly smile. “I was just wondering if it was normal, that’s all.”

“Definitely not normal,” Beauty replied, her smile not fading. “So did you do it?”

Octavia sighed and nodded. “I wasn’t aware of what was happening until I reached the… the ‘venue.’ So yes, I did it.”

Beauty’s smile grew and she stepped a little closer. “Did it go ‘well?’”

“BB…” Octavia’s head and shoulders sagged along with her ears. “I take it back, you’re as bad as Parish. I assure you, it wasn’t like that at all. I played a few songs, then I left. That’s all there was to it.”

“Uh-huh.” Beauty peered at her face. “So why does the whole topic make you jumpier than a Blueblood around mud?”

“I don’t know. I guess… it was such an odd encounter. I find myself wondering if it will happen again.”

“Hmm…” Beauty rubbed her chin, regarding Octavia with a solemn look. “Was the pay good?”

Octavia raised her head along with an eyebrow. “Yes, the pay was very good.”

Beauty nodded. “And you’re sure this guy’s not nutso or anything?”

Octavia started to smile, but it faltered as she considered the question. Though she had an image of Nightmare Moon in her head, she managed to keep her voice perfectly normal.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Then what are you worried about?” Beauty grinned and patted her on the shoulder. “Milk that cash cow for all it’s worth! I mean yes, it’s a bit odd, but if you really think he’s just an eccentric fan then why not take advantage of him?”

Octavia hesitated. “I never really felt comfortable with the idea of ‘fans.’”

“Seriously?” Beauty tilted her head. “How do you expect to get anywhere without them?”

“I know, I know.” Octavia waved a dismissive hoof. “I guess I never properly equated them with the lifestyle.”

Beauty smiled and patted Octavia’s head. “My little Octy, finally growing up. We’ll have the naïvety washed out of you before you know it.”

Octavia scowled and brushed her mane back into place. “Thanks… I think.”

Beauty opened her mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by a distinct rumbling noise coming from the general direction of her stomach. She blushed and gave a small chuckle. “Yeah… I was just about to get lunch. Care to join me?”

“No, thank you.” Octavia gestured to the cello on her back. “I have some work to do. Besides, I ate right before coming.”

A lecturing frown hit Beauty’s lips. “Well, you could – oh, I dunno – keep me company?”

It took no small effort to keep from groaning, and Octavia’s smile was strained. “Yeah… I guess I can do that.”

She was already counting in her head how many minutes would be lost because of this distraction.


Octavia stared at the blank page of sheet music, her shoulders sagged and her lips set in a deep frown. Her eyes scanned the small, quiet room, one of the soundproofed practice spaces of the Music Hall. Her vision traced the corners, roamed the yellow wall, etched out the door, danced along the floor. Her attention settled on the small waste bin, which was loaded with crumpled sheets. She lingered, taking in her dozens of aborted ideas.

She’d been at it for hours, tinkering away with quill and ink to come up with something new. A fruitless endeavor, driven by frustrated hopes that were, once more, starting to fade.

At first she’d attempted to carefully consider her options. Begin adagietto or catch their attention with vivace? Would the audience like something that begins giocoso? What key should she begin with? Should it start with her cello, or something else? How many instruments? Should she write a sonata, or perhaps a fugue?

She eventually realized that thinking so hard wasn’t helping, so she tried to write without any conscious thought.

What came out was a convoluted mess.

Her next step was to try making up something on her cello, creating music directly and writing it down after. But as she got through nearly a page, she would realize that everything she was doing was copying the work of another composer, either in pieces or as one big copyright-infringing blasphemy. She had so many songs in her head that coming up with her own on a whim was next to impossible.

So now she was just sitting there, staring at a blank page and feeling like a failure. She reached back to rub her cutie mark, wishing it could have been just a little different. She had her real talent, she had her cello. She had her excellent memory, enabling her to take any song she heard and play it. She could best any pony alive at music trivia. She devoted years of her existence mastering her art all on her own, determined to make it no matter what obstacles were thrown in her way.

But she couldn’t create new music. The one and only thing she still longed for in her career, and it continued to elude her.

Why was it so hard?

She sighed and flipped the sheet of paper before her, trading musical bars for a blank page. She set a new ink bottle down and began to write.

Frederick,

I know this letter is early. You won’t even have received my last one by the time I mail this one. Forgive me if it seems improper, but you’ve sworn in three letters so far to help me if I needed it.

I need it now. I need your advice. I have a very simple question, but the answer has eluded me for years. You have written your own music, created something new and amazing that is loved by millions.

I want that, Frederick. I want to give birth to new music, to create with my own hooves something remarkable that will survive for generations, something for which I will be remembered by. I’ve been trying so hard for so long, but I can’t find my muse. I’m a Hooftoskie without a Sonnet Naturale, an Andrew Lloyd Clopper without a Sarah Brightcolt. I’ve given up my life for this dream, and it’s always just out of reach!

Please, if you have any advice for me, I’ll take it. I want to contribute to the world of music as you have.

Your friend,

Octavia

She stared at the letter for several long seconds, heart heavy. It seemed so short, so direct... barely half a page. Her letters to him usually said so much more.

She didn’t know what else she could say. She let her head roll back on her shoulders and stared at the ceiling, letting her mind wander. She thought on the songs she knew, a vast variety of melodies and beats and tempos floating through her memory.

Not a single original note. Not one.

A knock on the door snapped her back into the present. She turned as the door opened.

“Excuse me, miss, but the Music Hall will be closing in fifteen minutes.”

Octavia nodded to the mare and began to put away her cello and paper. The letter stood out, and she found herself once again staring at it after everything was packed away. She read through it, and again. She began to feel ill.

It was a call for help.

The cymbals began to ring in her ears. Octavia ground her teeth as her eyes scanned the words one last time. She didn’t know whether to scream or cry. With an unladylike snarl, she grabbed the letter and crumbled it in her hooves, then tossed it into the waste bin.

She’d come this far without help.

She wasn’t going to ask for it now.


The mare was trembling in a corner of the room, head beneath her hooves and tears in her eyes. She babbled for mercy, to be spared, to let no harm come to her. She shook her head, she begged, she pleaded. She prayed to Celestia.

Her demon had been vanquished.

Luna stood in its place.

The princess stared at the sight, her mind numb. She felt so… tired. Tired of dreamwalking, tired of helping, tired of this. She made no attempt to reassure the pony, to correct her views. She only stared and wished the noise would stop.

Why did she do this every night? What was the purpose? These ponies didn’t want her help, or her. She should have just left well enough alone.

But Luna knew she couldn’t stop. As she turned away from the distraught pony, she felt her heart stinging. Her heart… her accursed, compassionate heart. Going into these dreams tore her apart, but every time she thought she would stop, she found herself here again.

The sounds pierced her ears. Luna closed her eyes and concentrated, not bothering to escape in her usual fashion. The magic seemed to reverberate about her as the floor fell out from under her hooves. A cool wind battered her body as she dropped through the sky, letting herself tumble through the clouds. Her eyes rose to the waning moon, teardrops floating in the air just above her face.

She lingered.

The clouds flew up, the ground drew closer.

Luna’s wings opened wide and she swooped over rooftops, her hooves just barely held above the tiles. A few wingbeats were enough to land gently on a particularly high building, and she promptly dropped to her belly with forehooves and head hanging loosely over the crest of the roof.

Silence. She lay there, mind blank and body heavy.

How many ponies lived in this town? She wasn’t even sure what town it was, but such was the way of things when she left the dreamscape with no destination in mind.

It didn’t matter. Not a single pony here cared about her.

Luna shook her head with force and grimaced. This defeatist attitude didn’t suit her at all, yet it was so hard to think positive when everything around her was so negative.

No… not everything.

Luna sat up and considered the option. She’d not been to Octavia’s dream since it had turned into a nightmare. Perhaps that was why she was so down lately. Yet to enter that dream…

If it became a nightmare again, would she be able to help Octavia? To confront her? What if Octavia didn’t approve?

Now Luna was cursing Celestia, for she found herself almost desperate to hear that soothing cello again.

At last caving to her desires, Luna turned and launched into the sky, flying directly for the moon. She concentrated on a location as the cool, soothing light covered her. It was like floating through a tunnel, streaks of shadow flowing past her as if to emphasize a speedy flight, though she knew there was no physical motion involved.

Within a couple seconds, the tunnel passed and Luna was flying over the city of Canterlot. She landed atop a cloud and focused once more, this time conjuring up the familiar ley lines of slumber. She filtered out the dreams at an almost hurried pace. Luna wasn’t sure she approved of her eagerness, but she could not bring herself to stop.

She frowned; Octavia’s dream wasn’t there.

Tensing, she reversed her actions. Once she had all of Canterlot back in her mental sight, she began again, this time much more slowly. Perhaps she’d worked the magic too quickly, it had happened before.

Yet as she gradually stripped away the unwanted dream lines, she came upon the same result. She could still see a faint line above Octavia's apartment, something small and dim. Luna knew what it meant: Octavia wasn’t dreaming. She was asleep, but for once her mind was empty.

It was uncommon, but there could be many reasons for it, the vast majority of them innocent enough. Perhaps she’d had a mentally trying day.

Luna sighed and pulled back, letting Octavia’s barely discernible line get lost amongst the hundreds that surrounded her. Disappointment filled the Luna’s heart, for she’d let her hopes rise to unusual levels. She longed to hear more of that soothing music, even if only from a place hidden beyond Octavia’s sight.

Alas, there would be no comfort this evening.

Flopping onto her back, Luna stared at the moon with a pout. There were still many hours left of the night, but she had no energy for more dreamwalking. She knew she was moping, but she didn’t know what else to do.

She let her head fall back so that her eyes were on Canterlot. The thousands of shimmering lines rose into the night sky towards the moon in a dazzling display. Even now, she subconsciously picked apart the different colors, pulses, auras and shimmers. Nowadays it all seemed uninteresting. Garish, even.

Slowly, Luna released the magic. The lines began to fade from her vision a few at a time, returning the world to its gloomy darkness.

Luna paused, catching the magic in her mental grip as her eyes lingered on Canterlot Castle. There was one line there, no different from the others, that pulsed intensely in a dark red glow. She studied it, picking out the harsh motions of the faint aura surrounding it, and soon had no doubts.

Celestia was having a nightmare.

A morbid curiosity filled the Princess of the Night. Part of her wanted to cut off the spell entirely and not think on it, but another wanted to investigate. Interest won out; Luna fell through the cloud and spread her wings to fly directly for the castle. Her eyes set on that steady, throbbing light, its silent pulses emulating a racing heart.

Luna landed on the balcony outside her sister’s room, but couldn’t bring herself to move to the window. There was a tightness in her chest, a distinct fear that she was becoming all too familiar with. She abruptly didn’t want to look in her sister’s room… but she shoved down her doubts and moved closer. Using her magic, she opened the curtains and peered through the glass.

Celestia lay on her side beneath the covers of a massive bed. Her face was tense, her head shifted and legs twitched as the nightmare took hold. Just above her head was a funnel of red light flowing up, the up-close indication of the dreamwalker’s spell. Luna stared at her sister’s troubled, slumbering face and felt an intense ache in her heart.

Luna had only ever entered Celestia’s dreams on one occasion, a highly embarrassing moment for them both. Since then they had formed a solid agreement that she would never do it again unless invited or in dire emergencies. Not once did she break that promise, even when she knew Celestia was suffering a nightmare.

Yet now the temptation was stronger than it had ever been. Luna’s heart twisted with every jerking motion, but in her selfishness she knew her worries had nothing to do with Celestia. There was a terrible suspicion, a nagging worry that ate Luna up from the inside.

It would be so easy to slip in unnoticed, to watch as Celestia’s terrors came to life. Easy… and difficult at the same time. The horrible, agonizing question loomed in Luna’s head: ‘what if?’ She was almost desperate to know the answer.

Yet at the same time, the thought of knowing sent shivers down her spine.

At last, Luna tore herself away from the sight, drawing the curtains and fighting to regain her composure. She would not invade her sister’s privacy, no matter how much she did or did not want to. She would not question Celestia; that route would only lead to suffering.

Yet, as she launched from the balcony and drifted in the night sky, that hideous worry continued to claw its way into her brain.

Author's Notes:

Śaṃkā: Doubts

There are a lot of things I've been puzzling over, things I need to find solutions to and don't quite know how. This chapter highlights the worst offenders.

Next Chapter: Kyā Ruknā Sapnā Estimated time remaining: 7 Hours, 19 Minutes
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