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Octavia sighed in exhaustion as she walked into her dark home. Her mane and tail was a mess and covered in dirt from her last gig. She didn't expect one of the most social events in all of Equestria to end as wild as it had: A hyper Earth pony had jumped off the stage as if it were some rock concert, but instead of landing in the hooves of ponies, she had landed on a Earth pony's cart and sent the cake flying. She hadn't seen where it landed, but she did hear a mare's scream. A pegasus tried to save the large statue of the Alicorn from crashing onto the floor and breaking-which she had for a few seconds-but she underestimated the strength and ended up crashing into the columns, making a domino affect with each one, then dropped the statue.
But that hadn't been the worst. The worst was when animals from the royal garden ran into the ballroom, scared for their very lives. They ran under ponies, jumped on them or into their clothes, under tables, all the while screaming in fear. She had wondered what would cause the animals to do this, but she didn't wait long for the answer to appear. "You're going to LOVE ME!" She could still hear the crazed mare's voice in her mind, and she knew why: she thought they were the same.
The mare's words had struck a cord in her heart. Was she just as alone as Octavia? No one to call a family or friends? Did she put on a mask to hide from everypony? Did she focus on her work almost all the time, so she could distract herself from the chilling loneliness that froze her?
But then a purple unicorn whistled. All of the ponies-who caused damage that night-stopped in their activates and ran towards her. She watched as the yellow pegasus ran out with them. With her friends.
Octavia wanted to chuckle. How could she think there was somepony like her? Somepony that played for lots of events for rich ponies with her band mates, spreading her name all over Equestria, but not once gained a friend or a special somepony. Somepony who couldn't even remember her past.
She halted in her active of brushing her mane before bed-a habit she had gained during those sleepless nights. She put her brush back down on her dresser and looked at herself. She saw her light grey coat and her black mane-a light line of grey running through it, but it wasn't from age but instead just another color. Her bright violent eyes shined, but there was no spark in them. She lifted her right hoof and placed it on the mirror.
'Just who am I?' She thought to herself. 'Who do I come from? Where do I come from? Is my family still looking for me? Do I have a family?' She closed her eyes as tight as she could, and tried to force her brain to reveal the hidden memories from her past, but like the other times, she only remembered waking up in front of Canterlot City with nothing but her name and her cutie mark.
She was fifteen at the time, but she was lucky to find a kind mare that allowed her to stay in her Inn-The Silversmith-as long as she worked there. The mare was a white unicorn with a orange mane, and a dish for a cutie mark. Her cutie mark meant she had a special talent at cleaning and washing, but she went beyond being a simple maid or dish mare, and opened her own Inn. She had taught Octavia that as long as you had passion for what you did, you'd go far in life. That had been the first step towards her fame.
The second step was when Ms. Pepper-the white unicorn-sent her to the attic to get her secret money box, so she could put the day's money inside. It was there that Octavia not only found the money box, but also something beautiful and amazing: a cello. It was covered in dust, the wood was chipped in a few places, but still produced wonderful music as Octavia played it. She played each string with ease and had lost herself in a melody she had created.
It wasn't until Ms. Pepper came up to get her that she realized just how late it had gotten. Octavia had feared that Ms. Pepper would get upset with her playing with her stuff, but was met with relief when Ms. Pepper clapped her hooves. She had explained to Octavia that her late husband, Mr. Silversmith, once played the cello on the streets to earn money, but once he met her, he played in front of their Inn to gain customers, then in the Inn at night for the guests.
Ms. Pepper had learned to play it from her husband, so after work she taught Octavia the names of each cord, how to read music sheets, how to hold the cello correctly, and much more until Octavia was ready to move out and try to make a living for herself at age eighteen. She promised to send Ms. Pepper half of her earnings each month. That was the last time Octavia saw her alive.