Title:           A surprise for you all
Author:          aaronamethyst
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/D33ufbgu
First Edit:      Thursday 20th of November 2014 10:18:37 AM CDT
Last Edit:       Thursday 20th of November 2014 10:18:37 AM CDT

>Day a surprise for you all
>your daughter and son are fighting
>as usual
>Treble, your son, was lead musician at his school
>Clef, your daughter, was also lead musician at her school
>they refused to school together
>they'd sit in their rooms all day, their instruments getting progressively noisier as their competition continued
>it needed to end
>one morning your lovely wife, the talented and very much retired leader of the Canterlot Symphony, was awake and yelling at the children
>"If it's not one thing, it's another. If you two do not cease immediately, I'm removing you both from your musical programs!"
>you feel defeat in the air as the hoofsteps of your wife angrily trudge your way
>"Fucking brats."
"Octy..."
>"Do not 'Octy' me!"
"Yeesh. You're more strung out than 80-year-old rope."
>she scoffs and falls face down on your king size bed
>yeah, king size
>"Your earthly quotations are going to be the death of me."
"I plead the fifth and blame Clay."
>she giggles and punches your shoulder softly
>you take the opportunity to lean over and kiss her
>it's soft and short, but very emotional for you
>you don't typically get the chance to marry the mare of your dreams
>these feels just couldn't be explained
>there's a soft knock on the door
>"Come in."
>it creaks open slowly revealing your third child, Concerto
>she's much younger than Treble and Clef
>while they were born twins, Concerto came about a staggering 13 years later
>by the time she came about, doctors were used to saying, "Sir, your child is a healthy satyr."
>times sure had changed
>Concerto creeps in, clutching her security blanket tighter than an anaconda's grip
>the bottoms of her periwinkle footie pajamas scuffed across the floor lightly
>her pudgy little face made you smile when she reached out to be lifted
"Alley-oop."
>her hair was blonde and her eyes green
>if anything threw you and Octavia for a loop, it was seeing Concerto for the first time
>most every satyr you'd seen had replicated traits of their pony parent
>Concerto looked to you like your grandmother did in her sepia pictures
>it was beautiful, really
>Octavia nuzzled closer to the two of you
>"Is everything ok, sweetie?"
>the three year old began mouthing words, preparing to speak
>"Mommy, how come... how come big sis and... big brother are always aw-guing?"
>you pull your toddler daughter close and give her a little hug
"They're teenagers, sweetie. They could argue about anything, really. It's just a battle to be number one. Soon enough, you'll be one, too."
>her eyes widen at the finality of that statement
>"But I don't wanna be a teenacker, daddy!"
>she turns to her mother, eyes welling up
>"Daddy's gonna force me to be a teenacker, mommy!"
>it's Octavia's turn to be amused
>she kisses Concerto's belly, blowing a little raspberry
>"No, you silly goose. Being a teenager is part of growing, little one."
>your pony waifu rolls off of the bed and takes up her cello
>"You see, life is one large scale symphony."
>you loved it when she did this
>she starts with a long, slow chord, closing her eyes and feeling the bow in her hoof
>"Through your childhood, there are many phases and changers you will experience."
>the music becomes one steady, on-beat hoof thumper
>Octy had the steadiest hooves around, and could hit any note from any song in any genre whenever she felt
>"Concerto, when you turn twelve or thirteen, things will feel a lot more chaotic."
>queue transition to freestyle jazz with absolutely no vector
>direction and magnitude
>hated that douche
>your little satyr girl bounced in your hold, smiling with her three new teeth
>Octavia laughed, crying a little, too
>you reached over, taking the back of her head in your palm and pulling her close for a kiss
>it surprised her, yes, but she was into that
>CRASH!
>the three of you jump
>you clutch Concerto worriedly
>"You... you... fucking moron!"
>"I'm not the one who left my shitty trumpet at the foot of my bed!"
>the ensuing argument causes Octavia to rush out of the bedroom, red-faced
>you tickle Concerto
"Can you be cute forever, please?