The night of the Grand Galloping Gala arrived, and it was just as boring and sordid as the Princess had said it would be. The whole affair took place in the castle's large ballroom, which had been lavishly decorated for the occasion. polished marble tables and plush ornate chairs had been set up throughout the entire area, with a massive open space for ponies to dance if they so desired.

There was a large buffet table off to the side, and even a massive fountain of what I thought was some kind of punch at the time. When I went to partake, I was hastily informed that it was red wine which had been magically made to replenish itself within the fountain.

A modestly sized orchestra full of some of the best musicians Canterlot had to offer had also been gathered together to play, and of course, there were posh, pompous, arrogant nobles everywhere I looked. The Gala was full of many of the most wealthy and influential ponies in Equestria, and it was Celestia's job to greet and converse with each and every one of them.

I, as her lady-in-waiting, had to sit by her side and listen to their nonsense right along with her. I sat there uncomfortably in the fancy, frilly, formal white dress the Princess had made for me by the royal tailor. I smiled and nodded and looked every bit as adorable as I was supposed to, all the while hating every minute of it.

I wanted desperately to complain and go off to do something—anything else, but I put up with it for Celestia's sake, as I always did. I would've much rather isolated myself in my room with my textbooks and maybe some hot chocolate, but it wasn't meant to be. Eventually however, when the number of nobles seeking Celestia's attention had thinned out somewhat, she let me go and enjoy the festivities.

I doubted there was much to enjoy, but I took the opportunity to stretch my legs and wander about all the same. I made my way around the ballroom looking for something to hold my interest, and I spotted a surprising amount of foals my age—more than I'd seen around the castle at any rate.

They were all either stuffing their faces at the buffet, whining to their parents about some inane issue or another, or boasting to each other about said parents and what they'd accomplished. Really, it wasn't all that different from what the adults were doing, just louder and more obnoxious.

There was one filly that caught my attention however.

Sitting alone at a table in one corner of the ballroom near the entrance, was a grey earth pony filly. She sat slumped over the table, one hoof propping her head up as she stared out at the orchestra. Unlike the other fillies who'd been adorned in ridiculously frilly dresses much like mine, she instead wore a black tailcoat, not unlike those of the ponies in the orchestra she was eyeing.

At first I thought she was simply enjoying the music, but as curiosity pulled me closer to the table where she sat, I could see the bored expression on her face. More surprising than that however, was the dull lifelessness in the mulberry eyes beneath her long and elegant black mane.

She reminded me of Crimson Storm.

Not knowing what to say, but deciding all the same that I had to say something, I quickened my pace as I moved towards her table. She flicked her eyes in my direction, but her expression didn't change, nor did she say anything as I reached the table and pulled out the other chair.

The only reaction she made as I sat down across from her was to return her attention to the orchestra. I wanted to say something—introduce myself maybe, but I couldn't bring myself to say anything now that I was actually sitting there, and I became acutely aware of just how bold it'd been to just take a seat next to a pony I knew nothing about.

Against my better judgement I had chosen to associate myself with another, older foal who was clearly a noble. I'd told myself I wouldn't after Blueblood, and I'd meant it... but this filly was different. Everything about her told me that she wasn't like any other high born foal I'd seen or met.

Like Crimson Storm, I'd been drawn to her by some odd force I couldn't explain, but this time I was the one with nothing to say. I opened my mouth a few times to speak, but nothing came out, and I ended up just squirming uncomfortably in my seat.

Face red with embarrassment, I eventually decided to take the other filly's cue and watch the orchestra play. It really was a beautiful song the group had chosen to play, and while I was no connoisseur of music, I could appreciate the skill with which they performed the rather somber piece.

"Wonderful, isn't it?"

I jumped slightly at the unexpected voice and turned to see that the filly hadn't taken her eyes off the orchestra.

"U-Um, I'm sorry," I said nervously, "did you... say something?"

"Well, it seems you aren't going to, so I may as well," the other filly replied in a rather thick Trottingham accent, "and I was talking about this particular piece the orchestra is playing. It's a wonderful piece of music."

"Oh, y-yeah, it is," I agreed, feeling awkward. I turned back to the orchestra and watched them silently for another moment, "...it kinda sounds sad though."

"Of course it does, it's a dirge," the filly snorted disdainfully. She waved a hoof in the air, taking on a mock tone of awe and respect, "Schwarzer Regen und Dunkler Himmel in G Minor, one of the lesser known works by the late, great composer, Allegro Melody."

"Schwarzer Regen und..." I flicked an ear and gave a quizzical frown at the unfamiliar language, "that's... Germane, right?" I tilted my head slightly in confusion, "and I'm not too familiar with this kind of thing, but aren't dirges usually played at funerals or something? Why are they playing something like that at the Gala?"

"Allegro wasn't from Germaney, but he had a fondness for the language, so he used it when naming a lot of his works," the older filly explained disinterestedly, "and the dirge itself was my mother's idea of a clever joke," she paused, as though trying to remember something, "the Gala may be lively, but the guests are nothing but soulless husks that don't know they already died long ago, or something like that at any rate. This song is meant to reflect that."

"Oh... that's..."

I didn't really know what to say to that, so I trailed off and said nothing. She had mentioned it was her mother's idea, meaning her mother had probably chosen the song. I didn't know how this filly or her mother were related to the orchestra, but given the filly's attire, I assumed they were involved somehow.

I decided I didn't care enough to ask about the matter, but that left us with nothing else to talk about that I could think of. We sat together in another awkward silence, but this one didn't last long before the other filly spoke again, her tone thoughtful.

"I do like the song though," she mused, "it's a rather odd creation from a stallion known for the quick and hectic pace of his many other masterpieces," she made a show of frowning in contemplation, "the way my father tells it, he originally wrote the piece in the wake of his wife's tragic death under mysterious circumstances."

That caught my attention.

"Really?" I asked, leaning forward, my ears perking up in interest, "how did it happen?"

At that, the filly turned her head slightly to look at me. She didn't just cast me a dismissive side glance like before, but actually looked me in the eye. She looked confused at first, but after a moment she smiled. It was a small, almost imperceptible thing, but it was the first I'd seen since speaking with her.

"Well that's interesting," she replied, fully turning to face me, "you're the first pony I've met who didn't immediately try to change the subject from such a morbid topic," her small smile faltered slightly, "...aside from mother."

"I am?" I asked, frowning bemusement, "but why? Wouldn't anypony be curious about something like that?"

"Most certainly not," the other filly snorted before hanging her head and frowning deeply, her eyes glazing over slightly. I barely heard her next words as she spoke, "...no sane pony likes to think about death."

Something in her voice caused me to wince in discomfort. I couldn't quite parse what it was at the time, but there was some kind of intense emotion behind her words, and it made me want to comfort her. Before I had the chance to respond however, she quickly moved on, her minuscule smile returning an instant later as she raised her head.

"In any case, Allegro's wife, Cantabile, died around half a millennia ago and nopony knows exactly how," she continued, leaning forward and speaking in a low, conspiratorial near whisper, "it's said her bloated body washed ashore on a coast not too far from Trottingham. Her dress was torn to shreds and they found a badly rusted knife next to the body, but there were no visible wounds."

"Wow, that's... weird," I muttered in response, "what do you think happened?"

"Well, personally—"

She paused, her ears perking up and a small, irritated frown crossing her face. I wondered why, until I noticed that there was no longer any music playing in the background. With a sigh, the filly adjusted her bowtie and hopped down from her seat before turning back to me.

She gave me an apologetic smile, but what little light I saw growing in her eyes as she spoke, had completely died out. Even I could see that the smile was as empty and lifeless as her eyes.

"Well, it was a pleasure, but I have a... prior engagement I must attend to," she exclaimed with a polite nod, "perhaps we'll meet again at some point."

"O-Oh, right... yeah," I replied, hiding my disappointment behind a strained smile and giving a half-hearted wave, "it was... nice meeting you too."

She gave one last nod of acknowledgment before turning away and trotting off towards the stage where the orchestra had just finished playing. I watched her go, wondering what she was up to, but the other ponies onstage had moved off of it, and I got my answer soon enough.

The filly had moved around to the back of the stage and I lost sight of her for a moment. A minute later, two unicorns came back onto the stage—one of them holding what looked like a miniature bass in their magic and the other holding a small stand and what I assumed was sheet music.

While one of the ponies set up the stand and sheet music, I spotted the well dressed filly trot onto the stage. I watched, surprised as the filly stoically accepted the miniature bass—a cello, I reminded myself—and bow before stepping in front of the stand.

The pony that had set up the stand, lowered it enough for the filly to see the sheet music and, with that done, the both of them quickly left the stage, leaving the filly on her own. It was then that I noticed just how quiet it had gotten, and I looked around to find that the majority of party goers had stopped what they were doing and were now watching the stage.

Excited whispers and muttering could be heard throughout the crowd as the filly propped herself up on her hind legs, bow in one hoof and cello in the other. She hadn't even started playing and I was already stunned. I'd only ever been to one concert in my life at that point, and each and every musician had been a unicorn, which made sense given how easily they could manipulate instruments.

It was common knowledge that string instruments in particular were exclusively used by unicorns, given how complicated it was for a pony to use them with anything other than magic... or so I thought. I'd never seen an earth pony even attempt to use a string instrument let alone play one, and yet this filly made wielding one without magic look almost effortless.

Then, without any sort of preamble, she began to play, and the entire ballroom fell completely silent.

She played with the skill of a musician three times her senior and with four times as much experience. I didn't know the name of the song she played, but it was fast, sharp, and intense—a far cry from what the orchestra had played earlier. If I had to attach an emotion to what I heard, it would've been anger, or perhaps aggravation, and I loved every second of it.

I sat there at the table watching the extremely talented filly drag the bow across the strings of her cello at a breakneck pace, completely enraptured by the sound. With some effort, I pulled my attention away from the filly onstage and saw that I wasn't the only pony who'd been blown away by the performance.

I realized then that I never actually caught the filly's name, much to my embarrassment and frustration. The encounter had been so strange and awkward that I'd forgotten to introduce myself altogether.

Setting the thought aside for the moment, I swept my gaze across the throng of nobles and saw that all of them were watching the filly with rapt fascination... except for one stuffy looking slate grey unicorn mare near the stage. She watched the filly with something that looked like immense dissatisfaction, her jaw set in a fierce scowl and her smokey grey eyes narrowed dangerously.

The mare had a black mane tied back in a Prench braid and, aside from the severe expression, the color of her eyes and the fact that she was a unicorn, she was the spitting image of the filly. Or rather, I thought with an odd sense of dread, the filly was the spitting image of the mare.

The filly didn't seem to notice however, all of her attention focused on the music. She never faltered, never looked away from the stand, and the tense expression on her sweaty face never wavered even once. She was all but lost to the world, and when the song finally ended several minutes later and the crowd stomped their hooves and shouted their praise, she looked as though she'd been snapped out of a trance.

I would've cheered right along with them, but something caught my eye at the last moment and I turned towards the entrance of the ballroom. Standing in the shadows just outside the double doors, was the one pony I never expected to see at the Gala.

Crimson Storm stood outside the room sans armor, watching the crowd silently with an inscrutable look. At that moment, all thoughts of the filly and her outstanding performance left my mind, as did everything else save for the red pegasus mare standing in the doorway. It was hard to tell with her coat color, but I could just make out a slightly darker tinge of red in her cheeks.

What was more noticeable was the unsteady way she stood, looking as though she might fall over at any moment, only to catch herself before she got too far. I wanted to call out to her, but something told me that would've been a very bad idea, and I instead opted to go to her.

It didn't look as though she'd seen me, and this was confirmed when she stepped back and began briskly trotting down the hall and out of sight. I quickly trotted to the doors before stopping and casting a brief worried glance over my shoulder at where the Princess sat.

She was still conversing animatedly with the gentry, so I took the opportunity to slip out after Crimson Storm, concern gnawing at me and spurring me on. Had I been paying more attention to my surroundings, I would've seen that my departure had not gone unnoticed by a certain colt and his friends.

Author's Notes:

I know this was probably a cliché scenario, but I'm a sucker for these kinds of fateful meetings, especially when they portend something dark and/or sinister happening in the future...