Lyra wandered through the town aimlessly. How can she not see how much she’s hurting me? If she really thinks those things about herself… what does she think of me?

She had thought that Octavia really did care for her, respected her talents, valued her friendship. But if Octavia wasn’t just exaggerating, if she really believed that she herself was beneath contempt… was there any pony who could meet her standards?

You were my mentor, Tavi. I wanted to be like you. You didn’t know it, but I attended everyone of your concerts when I was at the Academy, even the ones you didn’t tell me about. When you gave that performance at the Cheneigh town hall, I took a train there, even though it cost me a week of my academic stipend. And now…

What did Octavia really think of her? The cellist knew that Lyra was imperfect. She knew that Lyra had overslept on occasion, procrastinated sometimes, that she had been known now and then to be a bit lazy. Was Octavia judging her, condemning her, behind those dark eyes of hers? It seemed impossible. How many times had Octavia told Lyra how highly she valued her, called her the ‘greatest student’ she could ever hope for? But now, Lyra didn’t know what the cellist felt.

Does she hold me in contempt too? And Lyra felt a stab of anger. I forgave her. After what she did, I still came to support her. If she condemns me despite that, maybe she’s right. Maybe she isn’t worth it.

She had reached a fork in the road. One path led to the train station. I could go home, she thought. Go home and forget about her.

But she was the Element of Loyalty. Octavia had helped her so many times. She deserved help now, when she needed it.

Yeah, but if that happened again, what would she do? If she were to ‘honestly’ follow her own principles, judge me ‘fairly’, wouldn’t she decide now that I didn’t deserve it either?

She kicked a rock in the direction of the train station, watching it bounce away. “Maybe I should just leave,” she muttered. “I shouldn’t have to deal with this. In a few hours, I could be home and cuddling with Bonbon. Let her crash if she wants to fail so badly.”

The other fork in the road, she knew, would eventually lead her back to the castle. She could go find Octavia and try, once again, to make her understand. To pound something into that thick head of hers. But she didn’t think there would be much point in that. The mare could be more stubborn than Raindrops and Applejack combined when she tried.

I wish we were back in the Academy. Things were so much simpler back then. No politics, no Elements, just… it was just music.

Lyra’s horn glowed, and her lyre appeared before her. She picked it up and strummed it absently.

We did such great things. Those recitals we gave… for a member of the Court, even. Sure, he was just a Viscount, but still. We played in front of that consortium of merchants. The Academic Board. The Dean said that she was so proud of us after that last one. Doesn’t she remember any of that?

She paused. She had an idea.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll try one more thing. For her, I’ll try once more.”

Nodding to herself, she turned on her hooves and returned the way she came.

Lyra was not at the train station.

She was not at her hotel.

She was not in any of the parks she liked, or the bakeries or candy shops. She wasn’t at the Canterlot Mall. She hadn’t gone to see their mutual friends.

Please, do not have left town yet… Lyra, I am sorry for what I said, please still be here…

“Woah!” A shopkeeper sprang out of her way as she dashed through the market square. “Slow down, mare!”

Octavia did not slow down. She had to find Lyra, wherever she was, if she was still in the city. She had to be somewhere…

As she crested a small hill, she found herself rapidly approaching a stallion she knew – Viscount Prince Blueblood, in a silver-gilded carriage, surrounded by his retinue. The caravan was taking up the entire street, so the cellist skidded to a halt. She had to find Lyra, but she couldn’t do that if she plowed into a noble and got arrested.

“Hold!” said Blueblood, and his retinue halted in its tracks. Blueblood loved that sort of pomp, Octavia knew, and was somewhat surprised that he didn’t have his ponies salute as he got out of his carriage. “Philharmonica, is that you?”

“Yes, Viscount.”

“I have been trying to reach you for three days. You have not responded to my messages.” He frowned. “I was about to send a personal courier, in fact.”

“I have not been home in that time. I have been staying in Canterlot Castle.”

“Oh. I see.” He paused, then shrugged, as if agreeing to overlook some fault. “Well, at least we can talk now! I have heard that your patron has abandoned you – and in your moment of need, too.”

“That’s not your concern,” said Octavia. Go away!

“Oh, but it is. Your music is sublime!” Octavia knew that Blueblood, despite his substantial education, was not the best at listening to music. He could rattle off the history of the sonata, but he couldn’t hear the difference between a violin and a viola. His compliments were therefore meaningless flattery. “It would be a shame if your career were ruined over some silly symphony, with your ally refusing to help!”

“Viscount, I—“

“Ah, ah,” said Blueblood, holding up a hoof. “As it turns out, Miss Philharmonica, I have a solution.” He grinned. “Greengrass, it seems, has abandoned you. How would you a like a patron that won’t? Join my side, instead of his, and I can guarantee you access just as good as he provided – and something else too.” He chuckled. “A certain medicine that I know of, very rare, which causes obvious and visible illness for five days. My doctors will personally swear that you cannot go out in public lest you infect others. You will have a perfect excuse for not playing the symphony!”

So that’s your plan? And you’re just going to shout it out in public? Well, I guess you haven’t realized that your hoofmare there is on Greengrass’s payroll yet. But Octavia didn’t have time to waste mocking Blueblood for detailing his political intentions to precisely the wrong pony. “I’m not interested.”

“Not – Philharmonica, this could save your career!”

“Luna isn’t stupid. She would know what we did,” said Octavia. “Besides. I don’t flake on my performances.” She began to hurry by him. “Excuse me.”

“Hold!” cried Blueblood.

The smart thing to do would be to humor the stallion, Octavia knew. But she was tired, and stressed, and had no time for the idiot. “If I succeed, you won’t be able to touch me, Blueblood. If I fail, or don’t show, I’ll have lost everything and there will be nothing more you could do to me.” She glared at him. “Now, excuse me.” And she left.

Blueblood stared as she galloped away. Then he turned back to his retinue. “To the castle. Now. I must speak with Duke Greengrass at once.”

How can she be so willing to do this, even when offered a way out? She and Greengrass must be planning something, some way to pull off the Symphony. He narrowed his eyes. Let’s see what he has to say for himself.

The Music Academy. If Lyra wasn’t there, Octavia wouldn’t know where else to look.

Unfortunately, the Academy was huge. The receptionist and door staff were no help; they didn’t remember seeing Lyra come in, and the receptionist had hinted that Octavia would be smart to leave soon. She was soon to be shunned by the Princess, of course, and the school bore their ruler’s name. They couldn’t be associated with any pony she disliked. But Octavia had ignored this advice and pressed on.

Lyra wasn’t in the practice halls. Nor was she in the cafeteria, the academic classrooms, the teacher offices, or the quad. After a full hour of running all over the campus, Octavia had made no progress whatsoever.

She must have caught the train to Ponyville. Or somewhere else. If she took the train, she could travel to any city in the country. I would never find her.

But she couldn’t convince herself to give up just yet. As long as there was at least a chance that Lyra was nearby, that she was still in town, Octavia would keep looking. She wouldn’t give up unless there was absolutely no hope at all.

Why is it I only realized how much I needed her once I pushed her away? I’m a fool – no. Not yet. I won’t give up yet. There’s still a chance.

Even the hardy Octavia was becoming tired by all of her exertion, and she reluctantly paused her search to purchase a bottle of water from the cafeteria. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen a sea-green mare, with a harp for a cutie mark, have you?” she asked the cafeteria mare.

“Nope. Sorry, hun. Hay fries?”

Octavia gulped down the water as quickly as she could, eyes darting around for any sign of her friend. Where else was there? The campus didn’t have many other areas that were open to the public and the alumni. The library, maybe, but Octavia couldn’t think of what Lyra would be doing there. She already had a copy of the Symphony score, and Octavia doubted that Lyra was much in the mood to learn new music at the moment. There were also a few athletic fields, the pool, and a small shopping area for music-specific supplies (reeds, staff paper, even metronomes). Octavia didn’t know why Lyra would be at any of those places either, though. Still, she had to look.

“Octavia! Octavia Philharmonica!”

Octavia turned to see Dean Cantabile. Behind her were three large earth ponies with ‘security’ badges.

Oh. Right. I’m not allowed on campus anymore.

“Octavia,” said the Dean, approaching. “You’re not supposed to be here. You know why.”

“I’m looking for a friend.”

“Sorry. I need to ask you to leave.” Her eyes narrowed. “I sympathize with you, but this school is endowed by the Princess. She sits on the board of directors. We can’t risk offending her.”

Her too. Are Lyra and that burglar the only ponies who will stand by me? “Dean. I only need a little time. You know how much money, and how many students, I have brought here. Whatever the reputation—“

“I’m sorry. I don’t have a choice.” Cantabile nodded at the guards. “Please don’t make a scene.”

“Dean, if you’ll just give me a chance—“ Octavia spun on her hooves and took off at a dead run. She spent most of her days balancing an instrument that was bigger than she was, and quite heavy. Her legs were quite strong. As a result, she was a good distance across the quad before the others could react.

“Hey – get her!” managed the Dean.

Octavia sped up as the guards began to pursue her. I probably won’t be able to search more than one more area before they catch me. Library… that’s the most likely place left. Lyra, please be there. I need you to be there.

Octavia burst into the library, dashed past the startled librarian, and darted into the stacks.

If she’s here, it’s probably for information on the symphony. That should be up on the second floor… okay, the stairwell is there, but they’ll see me… She smiled ruefully. That cat burglar would be useful here.

Fine. I’ll just have to be fast. She approached the stairs, took a breath, and then raced up.

Not fast enough. “She’s up there!” It was a whisper – clearly the guards didn’t want to attract attention – but in the quiet library, Octavia had no problem hearing them. Her ears were powerful enough to tell ponies apart by their gaits; whispers weren’t hard for her to pick up when she was listening for them.

Hurry!

She topped the stairs and continued down the rows. Music from one millennia ago, music that lasted for more than forty minutes, music from that time, of that length, of the right genre…

She turned into the aisle.

Lyra wasn’t there.

Don’t panic! She might just be at a study table! (Meanwhile, she could hear the guards making their way up the stairs). Keep listening!

She made it to the nearest open area. A few ponies were working at desks, but Lyra was not among them. She was nowhere in sight. And, as far as hearing—

Octavia heard the faintest hint of lyre music.

Yes! That way!

The cellist took off, now starting to feel winded, but forcing herself onwards. Down the stacks, dodging sharply to the left to get around a fat stallion who was blocking most of the aisle, and towards a little door in the back of the hall.

Student records? Why? But I’m sure of it, I can hear her!

The music grew louder as Octavia raced down the hallway. Another door, another hallway, a third door, and…

It was a small room, with old copies of the school paper and ancient lists of awards. Lyra was in one corner, strumming her lyre with her hooves and levitating papers out of the cabinets with her magic. She looked up as the door banged open. “Octavia?” She was clearly stunned. “How did you find me?”

Octavia looked at Lyra. She had no idea what was going on. “What are you doing here?” she managed, in between gasps for air.

“I was looking up the records of the concerts you performed. I thought maybe it would remind you of the good music you played.”

Octavia felt a warm, swelling sensation. She still cares for me. She bowed her head. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“You’re welcome… but I thought you didn’t want my help?”

Octavia approached the lyrist. “I was wrong. Please, I beg you. Help me with the Symphony. If – if you’re willing to take the risk, if you think I’m worth it…” She trailed off, unable to finish.

Lyra paused, and the two stared at each other for a long moment. Finally, the green mare asked, “What changed your mind?”

“A friend helped me realize that I was being foolish.” She bowed her head again. “Lyra… I don’t want to be blacklisted. I want to keep playing, and I don’t think the situation I am in is just. Will you help me?”

Lyra set the papers down and considered. She couldn’t deny that she was still angry from before, and even though Octavia was begging her, she wasn’t sure she could just set everything aside. “Are you sure? You don't think you deserve to fail anymore?”

“Lyra, whatever your faults, you are an extraordinary musician and an incredible friend. You have saved the world and all the ponies in it. Any standards that condemn you cannot be valid… even my own.” She bowed her head. “I was wrong. I can only apologize again, and beg your pardon. But I need you, Lyra. I can’t do this by myself, I can’t even focus on the music. I am scared; scared that I will never play again, that I will have nothing left. I need a friend. Please…”

The green mare hesitated… and then smiled. She didn’t seem to be quite clear on what exactly had happened, but she looked happy nonetheless. “Of course, Octavia. That’s all I—“

Octavia smiled in relief. “Thank you.”

And then somepony pounded on the door. “Open up in there!”

“Huh?” asked Lyra.

Octavia blushed. “Ah, I should probably have mentioned that I am technically no longer permitted on campus…”

Lyra stared, and then burst into giggles.