One Magical Foal

Nox had sent Baroque out to play on a sunny day while he discussed “grown-up” things with Grandmother, so the foal had instinctively gone to look for his older siblings, Sonnet and Minuet. 

Sonnet could always come up with great ways to spend their free time, and knew all sorts of things. Most importantly, he knew magic, lots of magic at that. How many hours had the young foal watched his older brother perform beautiful feats with his numerous powers? That was irrelevant as Baroque always wanted to see more. And Sonnet always gladly delivered, a smirk on his face as he effortly did whatever Baroque asked.

As soon as the pink foal exited the walls of the palace, he was swept off his unsteady feet by a chilly gust of spring wind, tumbling into the dew-drizzled grass. The foal gathered his long legs beneath him and attempted to ground his hooves into the soft earth. He tightened his cloak and, after a moment of uncertainty, trotted on his way, eyes peeled and ears perked for any clues that might lead him to his brother.

This wasn’t the first time he went out unsupervised - quirlicorns learn to walk and pay attention to their surroundings fairly quickly - his father also frequently brought him out to look at the ocean or simply to smell the flower-bound plants of spring. 

There was a place in particular he liked: not too far away from the walls of Candentia, where there was a small hill with a tree atop, which overlooked the great plains surrounding the city. Sonnet liked the place too. Baroque knew because he and Father often saw him and Minuet there when they went on their walks together. Just far enough from the city to be peaceful, but not so far as to feel too solitary, too lonely.

As he neared the place, he heard music. Music far more beautiful than anything he had ever heard at Grandmother’s parties, and far surpassing the music he sometimes heard on the streets. When the tree came into sight, Baroque saw his brother wielding seven instruments all at once, and Minuet lying beside him, closely listening to the song, with her ears swivelling towards Sonnet. The older foal had the gift of Musical Inclination, meaning he could play all the instruments he wanted perfectly, easily transforming whatever he wanted into song. Music quite literally flowed in his blood. Sonnet played the final notes as the pink foal finally reached him, letting those last notes drift off into the wind. 

“Play it again, please!” the foal begged, pleading with his eyes.

Sonnet lowered the instruments to look at his brother. Neither he nor his sister seemed surprised to see him there. Perhaps it was because he had stuck his nose into whatever they were doing too many times already.

Sonnet considered the request for a moment, then made a face. “Why don’t you play it yourself,” he teased, offering his instruments to the foal.

Baroque stopped in his tracks. He was a bit intimidated, of course, but nothing ever looked as tempting to the foal as Sonnet’s violin in that specific moment.

“Sonnet! He hasn’t learnt an instrument yet!” Minuet complained. “I’d love to hear it again as well, consider it a request from both Baroque and I. You played splendidly. Still can’t compare to the song you played for the Spring Equinox.”

Sonnet stuck his tongue at his sister. “Now that was a combined effort from both of us, and also the magic of the Equinox.  So of course what I just played can’t compare.”

“Nope, I’ve played enough for today anyways. And Grandmother is waiting for us to go joust with someone. Or at least something along the lines of using magic,” Sonnet said to him, waving a tail out of  pretend annoyance. “So even if I can keep playing, which I can, I’d rather not.”

“Grandmother is speaking to Father. She asked me to leave them alone.” He paused. “Can… I try your violin, please?”

The foal wasn’t expecting to play anything at all. He only wanted to feel it, to pluck a few notes and see for himself how Sonnet could create such beautiful sounds on such a simple instrument. Sonnet obliged, giving a very pleased smile. Sonnet and Minuet weren’t entirely Baroque’s siblings, only half siblings with the same father. Baroque didn’t know his mother, but it wasn’t something that mattered, and the three of them often spent time together, running through the streets of Candentia. 

Yet, it sometimes felt strange, watching Sonnet snipe at Resplendence or offer a few words of commentary to Minuet. They fit in perfectly in Candentia, while Baroque could only tag along, trying to find his own place.

Sonnet obliged and handed his little brother the requested instrument. Baroque carefully hovered it closer to his face for closer inspection.

“I love the pretty patterns on it,” he said, beaming. 

“Yes, very pretty patterns,” Sonnet laughed at Baroque’s fascination, “Those holes actually help produce the sound you hear when the violin is being played.” He paused for a second, and then pulled the instrument away. 

Baroque let out a short, disappointed whine. Sonnet laughed, producing a triangle instead.

“The violin is a complicated instrument, you may want to start with something simpler,” he offered, with hints of a condescending drawl.

The foal blinked in surprise, then let out an offended huff. His blissfully inexperienced self had imagined that he could wonderfully play the violin just like his older brother did, with no practice at all. He bowed his head, and sheepishly accepted the triangle. Sonnet and Minuet stared expectantly at him, and Baroque inferred he’d have to play it at least once, before they’d let him admire the violin again.

A sharp, metallic sound resonated through the air. 

“Not bad,” Sonnet snickered. “Do it again.” It seemed like something had piqued his interest. 

Baroque sounded the triangle a few more times, letting the metal instrument ring out a couple more crisp notes. He glanced over at Sonnet, wondering if his older brother was going to say anything. 

Instead, his head was tilted towards Minuet; it looked like they were having one of their silent conversations again. He didn’t know how they managed to say so much to each other, with just their eyes alone, but perhaps their bond with each other was just that deep. Baroque wished he knew his older siblings as well as they knew each other, so that he too could join in.

Sonnet shoved his violin in the foal’s face.

“Try this, now,” he ordered, in a bored drone. 

Baroque flinched. He eyed his brother, looking for a hint that was another one of his pranks. 

Finding none, he readily accepted the instrument. He slid the bow over the strings a few times, testing out the pressure and angle until the violin produced sounds like it did when Sonnet played it. He stamped his hooves on the ground, ecstatic. 

He settled down, nesting his hooves into the grass, and closed his eyes.

The melody started off slow. He repeated what Sonnet had just played, adding some embellishments to the finale. Sonnet’s ears seemed to have perked up, recognizing the next piece as a waltz that was frequently played at their grandmother’s parties.

Then, the music slowed down again as Baroque played a piece no one had ever heard before. It was slow and deep with a steady rhythm, like a lullaby sung by a stallion.

Baroque imagined that he was transported to another world. He found himself by his father’s side again, on the night of the first storm he had witnessed in his short, insignificant life. He remembered the flickering of the lamp as his father slowly rocked him with his sturdy neck, and the comforting rumbles of his whispers. The soft words that were somehow louder than the howling wind outside. 

For a solid moment, Baroque forgot that he was outside on a chilly spring day, playing his brother’s violin. It was only him, his father and the warmth of their shared bedding. He smiled contentedly, as the last notes faded away, the bow having stopped gliding across the strings.

When he opened his eyes again, he was greeted by Sonnet and Minuet’s silent staring. How long had he been playing? He quickly averted his eyes, looking back at the violin.

He shook the flower petals off his mane and stared back, feeling his cheeks warm with embarrassment.

“Congratulations, you have musical inclination magic,” Sonnet commented, looking entirely uninterested. But Baroque caught the way his brother’s ears were still pointed towards him, his eyes quizzically studying the violin, and how he paused for a moment, before getting to his hooves.

“Oh, I do?” Baroque asked, gaping. He shut his mouth a moment later, realizing how stupid his question was. Obviously he did, given what he just played a moment earlier.

Sonnet rolled his eyes, scoffing, “Obviously. The triangle still suits you better though.”

Baroque could hear the pride in Sonnet’s voice, despite his dismissive words. His brother really was so cool, so amazing.

And Baroque really couldn’t wait to try and play something with Sonnet. Perhaps another day though, he thought, chasing after his older siblings.