The day of the gala came in what seemed like a moment’s time. For Octavia, it felt like things hadn’t changed even a second. Four days. Then three. Then two. Then one. And then… finally, the day of.

Octavia didn’t go into this unprepared. She had to get herself ready - a violet dress that covered her flank, with long, ribbon-like things that went down her forelegs. She’d had her mane braided, the long thing tamed as best she could. She didn’t dare show up to the gala looking anything but perfect, and along with the new mane style, Octavia worked her makeup. Red lips, smokey eyeshadow, and long eyelashes would greet any pony foolish enough to catch her eye.

The gala wasn’t the greatest the city saw. The Grand Galloping Gala dwarfed all, but the Royal Symphony’s Second Annual gala would bring quite the pull. Octavia had a plan. One that would get her the attention that she not only needed, but deserved. The mare looked at herself in the mirror, inspecting herself with the deadly, pinpoint accuracy of someone with ice in their veins. She could do this. No matter what came, no matter what happened, she could do this.

The thought of Vinyl in trouble kept her motivated above all. The mare set out, stepping through the streets and tracing the path that she knew by heart. Her gaze stayed locked in front of her, the mare ready and willing to force her way through anypony who tried to stop her. But who would? Those who took her love already had what they wanted. It was up to Octavia to get her back.

The back entrance opened for her, the doorstallion giving her a friendly wave that she didn’t return. In she’d go, behind the smaller stage, where her folk, her company already started to gather. Some of them had split into groups, chatting amongst themselves. Octavia ignored most of them, instead heading towards her station. It wasn’t much, just her cello on a stand beside a vanity that she didn’t even need. The mare took a seat, steadying herself with a deep, long breath. “Okay,” she whispered.

“Okay.”

She didn’t know if she could do this. She didn’t know if she’d be able to manage whatsoever. Maybe she’d break down in the middle of the stage, or maybe she’d just start bawling her eyes out the second she thought Vinyl’s name. No, she could definitely do this, because if she didn’t, she may never see her love again.

The mare unstrapped her cello from the case, letting it out and allowing it to rest across her back. She peeked around the curtain, looking out amongst the masses of ponies in front of her. So many ponies gathered, all coats and colors, all different types. Anypony who was anypony indeed.

Back behind the curtain went Octavia. And there was Melodious Note herself. Octavia smiled as much as she could, a small smile that didn’t look quite sure of itself. “Good evening,” she began, as cordially as could be. ”Tonight’s show should be quite the affair, shouldn’t it?” she asked.

The conductor of the company gave a small nod, imperious eyes inspecting the grey mare. “You are frazzled, Octavia. You are out of it and you better not ruin my show.” The way those words came out seemed as serious as could be, so much so that Octavia felt even a minor misstep would feel the most awful of retributions.

It wouldn’t even get to Octavia. Who cared? What did it matter if she missed a note, or broke a string? Those things were so minor compared to what she’d really come for. But still, she smiled and bowed her head. “Of course, Miss Note. We’re going to have a lovely show, I am sure. It’s nearly time, is it not?”

Octavia had memorized the schedule. Of course she had. An hour of her performing along with the rest of the orchestra, then a thirty minute interlude where they could mingle. After that, a quartet of four of them would perform as ‘background’ music. Unfortunately, that meant Octavia, since she was the lead chair for cello. Two more hours of that and then wrap up. Those thirty minutes, those were the important parts.

The head of their little company gave her one last look before nodding, gesturing towards the stage. “Get set.”

And that was that. Octavia grew up in the symphony, made her name in it. She knew this better than anything else in the world. With the cello resting against her back, Octavia took the first few steps onto the stage. Her eyes overlooked the crowd, nothing but cool confidence showing within them. She smiled, a muted smile, but one nonetheless as she set herself up. The end of the cello pressed against the ground, the bow going into her hoof.

Behind her, she could hear the rest of the company get set. Her second took her place to Octavia’s right, the percussion section gathering behind her. Everypony took their places, the consummate professionals having done this hundreds, if not thousands of times before. Each and every pony here deserved their spot, worked their tails off for it, and now, the world would see it.

Miss Note stepped onto the stage, magically amplified voice speaking to the crowd. “Good evening, everypony, and thank you all for coming. Tonight, we have something special planned, so please, relax and enjoy the show.”

Her bow came up, careful, careful as could be. With one last breath, the magic started. Octavia drew the bow against the strings, the sound echoing through the hall. In barely a note’s time, another joined her, then a violin, then the percussion accompaniment.

For once since the disaster a week ago, Octavia relaxed. She kept her eyes closed, putting her feelings, her thoughts, her desires into her playing. When the fast tempo sections came, they embodied her anger, the fury that she kept locked inside of her chest. The slow pieces accentuated her despair, the absolute and total fear that she felt from the loss of the one she loved. Each bit of the performance spoke something about herself, and during that time, Octavia just played.

The passage of time wiped away completely. No longer did Octavia care about that, only caring about her art, her music. Each stroke of the string sent another reverberation through her, another feeling of loss and love, fury and fatigue. Before she even realized it, her set had ended. The only thing that broke her from the stupor was the sudden lack of sounds around her. No more playing, just quiet noise as the crowd broke into conversation.

For a second, the pony stood still. She opened her eyes, tears still running down her cheeks. The ponies in front of her didn’t seem to be paying attention whatsoever, the people caught up in other things, in each other. What did Octavia do? Did she stand here? Wait for her company head? Wait for her friends to come to her?

Oh, who did she kid? She had no friends.

And then, her salvation appeared before her. A bright purple coat, wings and a horn, adorned with a golden crown and purple gem. The princess. She had a crowd around her, but it was her. The princess had come to her show, and maybe, just maybe, Octavia could talk to her.

A hard swallow kept her feelings inside of her rather than letting them out entirely. Carefully, she crept back stage, packing her things back up as quickly as she could.Thankfully, no one bothered her, no one got in her way. Each clip clopping step took her towards the floor itself, and then, across the white and black expanse.

The memory of the princess’ location hung in her mind, and she could navigate by that alone. A shove here, a gentle nudge there, and Octavia worked her way through the crowd. No pony stopped her, no pony got in her way. A few ponies had gathered around the princess herself, but Octavia forced herself through, earning her a disdainful look from all those involved.

“Good evening, Princess,” she spoke, getting her piece in before anypony could stop her. “Would you please spare a moment for a terrified pony? I need your help.”

Octavia heard a lot about Twilight Sparkle. She’d heard about her awkwardness, her kindness, and her lack of pomp and circumstance. Twilight glanced at Octavia, the Princess of friendship regarding the gray pony, eyes poring over her. With an almost imperceptible nod, she agreed. Before Octavia could react, the two of them disappeared from reality, and less than a second later, reappeared on a balcony high above Canterlot.

Naturally, Octavia freaked the fuck out. She yelped, jumping backwards and skidding against the white tiles. Her eyes danced around, rooftops and towers standing out. Why, she almost thought she could see her own house from here!

“How- what just happened, your majesty?” Octavia managed to rattle out, mind frantically trying to catch up. “Where are we? Is this the palace? How did we get here?”

The smallest alicorn laughed. “We’re at the palace, yes. I teleported us here. I suppose I could have actually just put a silence bubble around us, but where’s the fun in that?” Twilight’s eyes twinkled as she spoke, the tip of her horn still glittering with that pretty, purple magic. “Besides, I wanted to get out of there for at least a few minutes! Did you see how much they were swarming me? I get I’m a princess now, but Celestia, I don’t think anypony can deal with that many nobles at once.”

The cool air whispered against Octavia’s coat, the cold Canterlot air impossible to ignore now that they were so high up. She shivered, but got herself ready to answer the question.

Twilight stepped in instead, horn lighting up and opening the double doors to whatever lay beyond. “Come on, let’s get inside before we speak. I’ll make us some tea.”

Octavia still didn’t get much time to answer. Twilight led on, heading inside. With a sigh, Octavia followed, already counting the minutes in her head. She did have to go back on in thirty minutes, after all.

Regardless of her hurry, the inside of the room did much to calm her down. For lack of a better word, it was ‘quaint’, which felt odd to use to describe the inside of a castle with. At some point, whoever owned the place had set up the room off the balcony as a small living area. A couch and a couple of chairs ringed a coffee table, shimmering lights suspended above it. They looked like magic - pink crystals with a light seemingly trapped inside of them, a lovely touch to a room.

A small rug took the space under the glass-topped coffee table, a red, shaggy thing to go with the dark brown of the furniture. At the end of the day, the room was pretty small, well furnished and clearly rich, but definitely small. Tentatively, the gray mare stepped into the room, still looking around like something would jump out and get her.

Turns out, something technically did. Twilight poked her head right back out from a door that Octavia had managed to miss entirely. “Please, please, take a seat! I’ll be right back, promise!” she swore, that beaming smile somehow comforting the frantic earth pony. “I’ll bring sugars too!”

How had she gotten here? The more she thought about it, the less she knew. Somehow, she’d gone from being terrified to being in a princess’s home, an opportunity that may give her a real chance to fix things. She took her seat, the daze starting to wear off as reality set in. “You can do this, Octavia,” she whispered to herself, quiet as could be. The resolve took hold of her again, it was time to get her love back.