Una Nota Dolce, Bonus Chapter - Eredità

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ubtLUZ1PaQQ
>You yawn and stretch as you stand up from your workbench.
>You rub the back of your neck as you watch the snow float down lazily outside your workshop window.
>A customer from Fillydelphia had sent in a tuba that, frankly, looks like it got ran over by a tank.
>His face was perfectly straight when he asked if you could fix it.
>You even told him it would be cheaper just to buy a new one, but he insisted.
>Well…you can certainly understand how a particular instrument could be precious.
>Plus, it’s nice to know your little shop is becoming so well-regarded p0nies come from as far as Fillydelphia for your services.
>Needless to say, even your inflated commission price is going to be well-earned on this one.
>You rotate your shoulder as you wander out into the front, Sweetie Belle leafing through a magazine nonchalantly.
“Hey Sweets, any problems up here?”
>”Nope, had a colt come in and buy saxophone reeds, that’s the most exciting thing we’ve had all afternoon.”
>You sigh and smile as you nonchalantly lean on the counter.
>It’s been almost four years since you opened Una Nota Dolce, and in the meantime Sweetie Belle has really taken to the place, going from occasional helper to a full-fledged employee.
>Keep getting repair jobs like that tuba, and you might even be able to give her a raise.
>Fine young mare, that Sweetie Belle. Got a set of lungs on her to boot.
>Girl can sing her heart out.
>”Say, Anon, is it cool if I take off a little early today?”
>You cock an eyebrow, a grin spreading across your face.
“Got another date with Spike?”
>Her sheepish smile and rosy red cheeks is all the answer you need.
>You just lean on the counter further with a smirk.
>Oh, what a shock it was when you found out that Rarity wasn’t reading those cheesy love letters at all.
“Well, if it’s so important to see your schmoopsy-doodle…”
>Sweetie Belle rolls her eyes and pushes you away with a hoof, eliciting a laugh from you.
>She apparently graduated magna cum laude from the Cheerilee school of pet names.
“Yeah, I’m sure I can make do letting you go an hour or two early.”
>That seems to put a little spring back in Sweets’ proverbial step. “Thanks, Mr.A.”
>Hey, Mr. A was your father.
>She won’t get the joke Brain, don’t even try.
>You slide in behind the counter, past Sweetie Belle, as you do a quick once-over on your inventory.
>Hmm…looks like that violin you sold yesterday was your last.
>Probably a good idea to order one or two more, just for display purposes.
>Speaking of displays…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CrGqC6tKeN8
>You stand up and run your fingers along the rebuilt violin hanging off the back wall, above the shelves holding the various reeds, oils and accessories found in any musician’s shop.
>You were right, even after all that time reassembling the instrument piece by piece.
> It never carried a good tone again.
>It never needed to.
>All you cared about was the light in Octavia’s eyes when you showed her the fruits of your labors.
>That was a good night.
>Not a wink of sleep to be had.
>ifyouknowwhatImean.jpg
>I remember, brain. I was there.
>You use your finger to wipe off the small amount of dust that had accumulated on the small brass plate affixed to the plaque the violin is mounted to.
>Music isn’t about notes, it’s about feeling…
>That’s some weapons-grade truth right there.
>You turn around as the bell rings, signaling the arrival of a customer.
>Instantly, your smile goes from slight and warm to big and beaming.
“Welcome home, Octavia.”
>Octavia lets out a ragged sigh as she shakes the snow out of her mane, setting her cello down next to the door as she shifts under the weight of her saddlebag.
>Ever since she started as conductor and teacher for the P0nyville school orchestra, she normally loves her work, but when it gets close to concert time, her stress shoots up through the roof.
>”Hello, dear…there’s just NO way we’re going to be ready in time for Hearth’s Warming Eve, there’s just no way. We can’t work on the music because I’m spending all my time getting the brass section to just learn their basic scales and…”
>Octavia sighs and gives you a kiss as you come around the counter, relieving her of her saddlebag.
>Man, this thing is heavy…
>”Thanks Anon…would you mind terribly cooking dinner tonight? My mind is all jumbled…”
>You smile and brush some strands of hair up out of Octavia’s face, finally prompting her to smile at you.
>All these years, and those big violet eyes still get to you.
“Of course, anything in particular you want.”
>”Just no salads…”
>The two of you gaze at each other a moment before you both chuckle, eliciting a “dawww” from behind you.
>Dat Sweetie Belle, giving you the same shit-eating grin you used to jitter her critters regarding Spike.
“Say, Sweetie…why don’t you go ahead and take off?”
>”I thought you’d never offer.”
>Crafty mare…
>Sweets stretches and heads out the door as you plop down on the stool behind the counter, Octavia hopping up on the crate Sweetie Belle uses when she’s working.
>”You know Anon, I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to come to the conce…”
>You silence Octavia with a kiss, pressing your forehead against hers.
“Hush you. You know I wouldn’t miss it for the world, even if the brass section can’t play basic scales.”
>Octavia smiles warmly. Good thing you still know how to make her blush.
“Now then….where’s…”
>Octavia gives an annoying grunt as she pulls away, looking at the still-open front door.
>”I swear, that girl is going to be the death of me…DOLCE, GET IN HERE BEFORE YOU CATCH YOUR DEATH OF COLD YOUNG LADY!”
>A ball of snow waddles inside in response, the door closing behind it.
>Twilight had warned you. That successfully producing a foal from a union between a p0ny and a non-p0ny, while possible, was highly unlikely and fraught with dangers.
>Spending almost a full year trying was certainly damaging to your health, but in a good way.
>You can’t help but laugh as you wander over to the snowball, brushing off what you…think…is the face.
>Cream-colored coat and big brown eyes?
>Heart?
>Sorry anon, melting.
>Yup, it’s her alright.
>Your little miracle.
>”DADDY!”
>The filly explodes out of the mass of snow, latching on to your neck with a giggle.
>You laugh as well, cupping the filly in your hand as you returned the hug.
>Octavia comes around with a smile, bumping your hip as she came up next to you.
“Hey there squirt. Have fun at school today?”
>The filly nods vigorously. “Yep! We learned how to add today!”
>You sigh contentedly as Dolce nuzzles into your neck, Octavia making her way under your free hand as you trace her ear with your fingers.
>Yup, things turned out pretty sweet after all…


------------

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kz-10JOk3lc
>The young colt sighed as he trotted off the bus into the hard cobblestone street.
>It’s bad enough being a guy when you’re pink with a pink mane…
>He sighs and shoulders his school bags, trotting down the street towards home.
>The p0nies in Neighjing were friendly enough, but despite living here his whole life, he always felt out of place.
>Well, here we are.
>Pinkie’s Pies and Confections.
>You let yourself in to the humble shop. It should be opening soon for the dinner rush.
“Mom, I’m home…”
>A pink mare pokes her head up from above the back counter, the splotches of flour indicating she was hard at work.
>Her squeal of delight has enough force to send all of the flour flying off in different directions!
>”BUBBLE!” Pinkie leaps over the counter and embraces her son vigorously. “How was school?”
>Pinkie’s face falls as Bubble casts those big brown eyes of his to the floor.
>Just like his father’s…
“Mom…what’s a bastard?”
>Oh man…Pinkie was dreading this conversation.
>”Where did you hear a word like that?”
>Bubble just sniffles a little.
“Some of the colts at school called me that…”
>Pinkie sighs and hugs Bubble.
>”Don’t worry about those kids. It’s a hateful word that nop0ny should ever be called…”
“Alright…”
>Pinkie strokes Bubble’s mane soothingly. Sure, raising him all alone out here has been tough…but she knew what she was getting in to.
>This was a penance all her own for her mistake.
>Although…it was also hard on Bubble Blitz.
>He didn’t deserve that at all.
“Hey…mom?”
>”What is it, cupcake?”
“You said when I was old enough…you would take me to meet my dad…when…”
>Pinkie hides the pain of the question behind a patented smile, releasing the colt.
>”Soon, when we’re both ready. Now run along and do your homework, mommy’s got to finish getting ready for the dinner rush.”
>Bubble nods and heads off into the back. It’s no use hiding his disappointment.
>Perhaps the day is coming sooner than expected…
>Pinkie trots back behind the counter, pulling out a parchment and quill.
>And she begins to write.
“Dear Anon,

It’s time we had a talk…”