Exit Through Canterlot

by TheBrianJ

18. ...On My Terms

"...So I agree that this community garden will be a wonderful benefit to Canterlot. Seaddle has already seen great success with their gardens.”

The ponies gathered around the table nodded in agreement as one of them rolled up the plans in front of him. "With an endorsement like that, I believe we can streamline the process and get the garden started within the week."
 
"Excellent, please keep me updated on the progress."
 
"Of course, Princess."
 
Princess Celestia smiled and nodded as the ponies left the room, leaving only her and a bespectacled pony next to her. He pulled out a piece of parchment and adjusted his glasses.
 
"This is wonderful, Princess," he said. "You are three minutes and sixteen seconds ahead of schedule, and we're only at lunch!"
 
"That's because I have my expert planner with me, of course," she said. "Now then, Kibitz, what is next on the schedule?"
 
Kibitz looked at the scroll as the two trotted out of the room. "Oh, you have a disagreement to be settled, but one that was asked to be done privately."
 
"That's fine," she said. "What is the issue?"
 
"It's a musician by the name of Octavia," he said. "She says there is an issue with her pay from the Canterlot Garden Party."
 
Celestia stopped in her tracks for a second. Kibitz looked back at her.
 
"Is everything alright, Princess?"
 
The princess smiled. "Yes, everything's fine. I guess I should have expected her to stop by."
 
They reached a room to the side of the grand throne room and Kibitz held the door open for the Princess. Inside the waiting room sat Octavia, who immediately looked up at the princess.
 
"Nice to see you again, Octavia," Celestia said. "Kibitz, if you wouldn't mind, this is a private matter."
 
"For a pay dispute? I would think I could assist in hammering out any issues that—" Kibitz began to say, before a brief stern look from Celestia stopped his thought process, and he blushed a bit. "Erm... perhaps I could go get some more parchment."
 
Celestia smiled and nodded as Kibitz left the room, leaving Celestia and Octavia alone. As soon as he was gone, Celestia turned to Octavia.
 
"This has nothing to do with pay, does it?" she said with a sly smile.
 
Octavia responded with a smile of her own. "No, it doesn't. My apologies for lying, but I doubt I would have been able to meet with you if I had told your assistant the truth..."
 
With a nod, Celestia walked forward and exited the other side of the room, Octavia following closely. They trotted in silence for a minute, past numerous guards and ponies who were touring the castle, until they found themselves alone in a long hallway. Octavia recognized it; it was the path that Blueblood had taken her on as they had approached Celestia's quarters.
 
"I know that you wanted to talk to me," Celestia began, "but I actually had something I wanted to discuss with you, too."
 
 Octavia looked up at Celestia in surprise. "You do?"
 
"Yes," Celestia said. "This morning, I got a letter from my protégé, Twilight Sparkle."
 
“Oh,” Octavia said as she glanced away. “W-what did she say?”

“I’d prefer not to talk about much of it, since—“ Celestia stopped herself, then just smiled. "Well, I suppose it's not important now. What is important is something she said near the end of the letter."

Octavia looked up at Celestia, who looked back down at her with a reassuring smile on her face.

"She said that the pony who spray painted their houses apologized," Celestia continued, "and that while the pony did say she doesn't like them, the apology itself was sincere. I am very happy to hear that that happened."

Octavia nodded. "I had a bit of an epiphany on my last day in Ponyville. I may not like what they did, but they deserved the apology."

"I wholeheartedly agree," Celestia said. "And after thinking about it since our last talk, I realized that you deserve one too."

Octavia looked up at the Princess; Celestia was looking down at her with a sincere smile on her face.

“I will admit that what happened at the Gala was wrong. I wanted to enliven the Gala and make the Elements of Harmony feel welcome, but the fact that it came at the cost of other ponies’ happiness is inexcusable. It was wrong of me to assume that nopony was hurt, and I’m sure there are other ponies who were hurt as much as you were. So while I don’t know if this will mean much to you at this point, I am sorry for what I did.”

There was a long silence in the room. Octavia wasn’t sure what to say to Princess Celestia; instead, she just contemplated. When she had finally gathered her thoughts enough, she sighed.

“If you had said that from the very beginning,” Octavia said, “if you had never believed nopony was hurt, then none of this would ever have happened.”

“I know,” Celestia said. “We could have avoided a lot of unpleasantness.”

“You don’t understand. I never would have wanted this to not happen.”

Celestia looked back down at Octavia; now, Octavia had a wistful smile on her face.

"I wouldn't want to undo anything that's happened," she said. “I'm not proud of some of the things I've done, but there is so much more that I am proud of, more proud of than almost anything else I've done in my life. I wouldn't want any of it undone."

Celestia looked into Octavia's eyes for a few seconds, then smiled. "I'm happy to hear that. Now then, I must apologize for getting off topic, you came to see me about something?"

"Yes," Octavia replied. "I've made my decision."

"Regarding?"

"The fact that I'm not ready to end everything."

For a second, Octavia could see a smile forming on Celestia's face. The princess nodded.

“From what I hear, you showed just that down in Ponyville yesterday. Is that what this meeting is about? Informing me of that?"

Octavia shook her head. "Not exactly. Unfortunately, there is a bit of an obstacle standing in my way. So I was wondering..."

She trailed off and looked up at Celestia, then smiled.

"I was wondering if you could do me a bit of a favor."

"You sure you want to do this?" Vinyl asked.

"Absolutely," Octavia quickly replied.

The two ponies looked over the structure before them: a large brick building that stood out from the more modern buildings around it. A hoof-crafted sign reading "The Canterlot Times" hung beneath open windows, from which the sounds of talking ponies and relentless typing could be heard. Vinyl glanced over at Octavia again.

"I mean, this is big. Like, really big," she said. "If you do this, you can't exactly go back."

"I'm well aware," Octavia said. "But I've made my decision, and I'm going forward with it."

There was a pause.

"Hey, do you think they'll say 'stop the presses?' I bet they do! This is the kind of story that—" Vinyl said, then stopped when Octavia shot her a quick glare. "Sorry..."

"It's alright," Octavia said. She took a step forward, but Vinyl laid a hoof on her shoulder.

"I support you in this, of course," Vinyl said, "but... what if you're wrong? What if Canterlot doesn't accept this? What if they aren't as forgiving as you expect?"

"I know that's a possibility," Octavia replied, "but if that is what happens, then so be it. If they are not forgiving... well, I'll figure out what comes next when I get there, I suppose. But this isn't just about their reaction.”

She turned and looked directly at Vinyl.

"If it ends, it ends on my terms," she said. "If it has to end, I refuse to let it be at the hooves of a pony like Prince Blueblood."

Vinyl nodded and smiled. "Alright. I'll be out here if you need anything."

Octavia nodded, took a deep breath, and trotted into the building. After a brief chat with the receptionist who pointed her in the right direction, she walked down a long hallway, ponies rushing past her carrying stacks of paper or engaged in conversation. She finally came to a large door marked with the name she was looking for, and reached up for it. Her hoof momentarily hovered over the door, but with another deep breath, she pushed it open and trotted inside.

A pony behind a desk looked up from the paper he was reading over. "Hey there, how can I help you?"

"Hello," Octavia calmly replied. "I had something that I wanted published in tomorrow's newspaper?"

"Ooooh, I think you might be a bit late," the pony said. "We're just about to begin printing, but we can probably get it in the next day’s. Also, I ain't the pony you want to talk to. I'm just an editor. Classifieds is a few doors down."

"No, I wanted to speak directly to an editor." Octavia reached into her saddle bag and carefully pulled out a few sheets of paper. "I have a bit of a big story... Not to sound presumptuous, but unless there's a far bigger story, I was hoping it would appear elsewhere in the paper."

"Define 'elsewhere.'"

Octavia smirked a bit. "Front page?"

The editor blinked, then put the paper he was holding down. "Now listen. I understand you may be enthusiastic about whatever you want to talk about, but unless what you got in there is something that every pony in Canterlot wants to read, I doubt—"

"It is," Octavia said as she pushed the papers in front of the editor.

The editor rolled his eyes, then began to read the papers. After a few seconds, his eyes widened and he looked up at Octavia, then back down at the paper. He scanned the rest of the papers excitedly, but the excitement waned suddenly as he looked back up at Octavia.

"Listen," he said, "you are, like, the sixth pony to claim this."

"I am?"

"Yeah. A few ponies have come in claiming the exact same thing. Looking to make the news, become famous. In fact, we've gotten ponies making all sorts of claims over the years. I'm sorry, but I can't accept this the way it is. For all I know, you're doing the same."

He started to push the papers back across the table, but Octavia held a hoof out.

"What if I have proof?" she asked as she reached into her saddle bag again.

"What, a friend who can vouch for you? That didn't work for two of the others. You're gonna have to do a bit better than that."

He was just about to go back to his reading when Octavia dropped something else on the desk. He looked over the object, then immediately reached over and grabbed it. He held the rolled-up scroll in both hooves, then turned it to the side to stare in shock at the Royal Seal that held the scroll in place. He glanced up at Octavia, who responded with a smile.

"Would a signed affidavit from Princess Celestia do for proof?” she said.

The editor carefully removed the seal and unfurled the scroll. He scanned it, then looked down at the glimmering signature in the bottom corner. As his eyes widened, another pony walked into the room and took a book of a shelf to the right of the door.

"Banner?" the editor said.

The pony looked up. "Yes?"

"Can you go tell them to wait on beginning to print tomorrow's paper?" the editor said, looking up at Octavia. "I... I think we have a big story here here."

Two guards stood stoically in front of the door to Prince Blueblood's private chambers. It was a routine they had come to know well; Blueblood took his breakfast and tea on his own so he could read the paper in peace.

What was different this morning was the loud pounding that suddenly came from within the room.
 
The guards immediately turned and flung the door open, rushing in. "Blueblood, sir!" one of them yelled. "Is everything alright?"

Blueblood sat, his face red with rage as he gripped a copy of the Canterlot Times in one hoof, his other hoof pressing into the mahogany breakfast table he sat behind.

"That miserable little..." he mumbled to himself as his eyes scanned the front page at a furious pace.

"Prince, what's wrong?"

Slowly, Blueblood looked up at the two guards. The fire in his eyes extinguished as he set the newspaper down and took a deep breath.

"I should have expected she'd do something like this," he grumbled as he threw the newspaper down on the table.

The guard glanced over at the paper: on the front page was a picture of a pony. She was wearing a simple bow tie and had her mane elegantly brushed back. What stood out more was the text that appeared in large letters next to the picture: "Flanksy."

"Is that..." the guard began.

Blueblood nodded.

"Wow," the guard said. "She actually revealed herself? Well, I guess after her arrest and talk with Celestia, that makes sense. I suppose she's retiring then."

The guard looked over at Blueblood, who was staring a hole through him. He slammed a hoof down on one part of the article, and the guard read it carefully.

"Oh, I see," he said quietly, hoping not to rile up Blueblood any further. It was unsuccessful as the prince stood up, shoving the table away and glaring out the window. The guard carefully trotted up behind him. "Sir, what do you plan on doing now?"

There was no response at first; Blueblood quietly observed Canterlot through the window. The two guards glanced at each other nervously, each not willing to be the one to say anything first. Finally, Prince Blueblood spoke up.

"I'm going for a walk."

"Y-yes sir," the guard replied. He started to step forward when Blueblood shot him a deathly glare.

"Alone," he seethed.

Blueblood turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him hard enough to shake the walls and floor of his chamber.

Twilight Sparkle sighed and crumpled the parchment up. With a flick of her magic she threw it to the side, where Spike dove to catch it in an almost-overflowing trash can. He quickly tore off a new section of scroll and handed it to Twilight, who dipped her quill in ink.

“So… take 22?” Spike asked.

“It may take a while, Spike, but I am going to get this letter precisely right,” Twilight said. “Now, tell me how this sounds: Dear Octavia…”

Spike waited, but Twilight didn’t continue. After a few seconds, her head rested down on the table.

“Nothin’?” Spike asked.

“What in Equestria am I supposed to say?” Twilight asked. “Think about everything she did to us! She painted our houses, she broke in… but she seemed apologetic. She did some awful things to all of us, but then she painted that incredible mural on the dam! I have no idea what I’m supposed to say to this pony! Do I condemn her for what she did to us? Do I forgive her? I don’t even know what to think of her as a pony!”

Twilight stood up from the desk and flopped down on her bed in frustration. Spike walked across the room and sat down on the bed next to her. “Well, do you have to say something to her?”

“Celestia said it might be helpful to write her a letter,” Twilight said into her pillow. “I don’t know, she left before any of us got a chance to talk to her. We have plenty to say to her, but I’m just not sure what.”

Spike was about to reply when he momentarily held his stomach, then let out a breath of green fire. Twilight glanced back.

“A letter from Celestia?” she asked as she reached down and picked up the paper that lay on the floor. “Wait; this is a copy of today’s Canterlot Times. Why would she send me this?”

Twilight unfolded the newspaper, immediately seeing the headline accompanied by a picture. Next to the picture was a small piece of parchment, on which a long note was written in a hoofwriting that Twilight recognized immediately.

“‘My dearest student,’” Twilight read, “‘I thought you should see this.’”

Spike poked his head over Twilight’s shoulder. “Hey, that’s the pony, isn’t it?”

Twilight nodded, then trotted back over to her desk. She stared quietly at the picture of the pony on the front page, then began to read the article.

Amethyst Star dipped her brush into the can of red paint. As she pulled the brush out, she couldn’t help but admire the specks of paint dribbling off the end of it; it was one of the simple pleasures she had come to enjoy from painting. She pressed the brush into the half-finished painting to create a long red streak across the sky, then looked back up across the street as the sun slowly rose up behind the skyline.

“Excuse me,” a voice said from her side, “but some of your paintings are in front of ze door to my studio.”

Amethyst looked to the side to see how far apart she had set her paintings. “Oh shoot, I’m sorry!” she said as she gathered up the paintings. “I just set up here to watch the sunrise, didn’t even notice the door.”

“It is alright,” the pony said as she stepped up to the door. She had only just inserted the key into the lock when she glanced back at Amethyst, this time noticing the newspaper sitting next to her. As soon as she saw the headline, she stopped trying to unlock the door and picked it up.

“Flanksy…”

“Yup,” Amethyst said with a smile. “That’s her.”

Photo Finish quickly scanned the article for a minute as Amethyst continued painting. As she got to the end of the article, she too began to smile.

“Vonderful,” she said quietly. “Simply vonderful.”

“What’s vonderful?” Amethyst asked, then shook her head and blushed. “I mean, wonderful?”

“This,” Photo Finish replied as she held the article out. “The fact zat true art will win out. Zat one of ze greatest artists Canterlot has ever seen hasn’t gone away.”

Amethyst nodded. “I’m glad to see her back, too. After what she said to me, I thought she was done.”

“Vhat she said to you?”

“Oh, uh, nothing. Anyway, if you’d like, I can move my stuff to across the street, get it out of the way of your studio, Miss Finish.” Amethyst said as she started to gather her paintings again. “I didn’t even realize what building this was, I can only assume there will be ponies coming in and out all day.”

“Yes, I have quite the busy schedule today.”

Amethyst nodded and stacked her paintings up. She was reaching for the last one when Photo Finish held her own hoof out.

“No,” she said. “Stay.”

“What?”

Amethyst looked up at Photo Finish. The sun was now high enough over the buildings that it was glaring off of Photo Finish’s reflective sunglasses; Amethyst had to avert her eyes a bit. Photo Finish responded by taking her sunglasses off and looking directly into Amethyst’s eyes, smiling as she spoke.

“Please, stay. You can set up right here, to ze side of ze entrance,” Photo Finish said. “Vith any luck, the ponies coming in and out vill see it.”

Photo Finish put her glasses back on and gave a last nod to Amethyst, then unlocked the door to her studio and trotted in. Amethyst sat quietly for a moment before the smile returned to her face, and she quickly spread her paintings out again. As she turned her attention back to the painting she had been working on, she reached over and took the paint brush in her hoof, then glanced at the newspaper to her side. She looked at the picture of Octavia on the front of the paper.

“Thanks,” she said quietly as she pulled the brush in and drew another long stroke across the Canterlot morning sky.

To whom it may concern in Canterlot,

My name is Octavia Melody. By trade, I am a musician who specializes in the cello. There is a chance you have heard of me before. I have played at some of the more prestigious venues and events in Canterlot, including the Grand Galloping Gala and the Canterlot Garden Party. I am honored to have accomplished so much in my young career here in the Canterlot.

However, the chances are far greater that you are familiar with my other activity; for the past several months, I have been spray-painting walls and monuments in Canterlot under the pseudonym of "Flanksy."

I figure that I should explain why I adopted this persona in the first place. I don’t want to go into details, so I will keep it straight forward; it began simply as an outlet. After a particular incident I was angry; angry at one pony in particular. Given what my first piece of art in Canterlot was, it should go without saying who this pony was. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. There was no premeditation, no plan, no thoughts of even continuing. I was angry and I needed an outlet; spray painting the statue of Celestia was it. That was supposed to be it.

But things changed. It became far more than I intended. Painting walls was a rush for me the likes of which I had never felt before. Through painting—be it colorful murals of something a bit more controversial—I felt a sense of attachment, a sense of euphoria. I found my harmony.

I understand that I am a bit of a polarizing figure in this city. There are those who enjoy my work and what I have done, and there are those who think I sully the image of Canterlot. I have come to accept that, in doing what I do, I will never be universally accepted. I've made my peace with that. But that is not why I have decided to pen this article, to reveal to Canterlot who I am.

I am doing this because of what happened the last time Flanksy was seen in Canterlot. What I did before Flanksy seemingly disappeared.

What I did then was not art, it was not a statement, it was not changing Canterlot. What I did was hateful and selfish, and is something I look back on with disgust. I am ashamed of what I did to the Elements of Harmony. I am being punished for those actions, punishment that I absolutely deserve. To attack ponies, to break into their homes, I am not proud of that.

But I am proud of everything else I have done.

I painted trees and the fountain in Canterlot Park. I declared fashion "fake" in front of a crowd assembled specifically to watch a fashion show. I painted a statue of Princess Celestia and outright called her ignorant

I’m proud of what I did there. I'm proud that I did something new, something Canterlot has never seen before. I'm proud that—negatively or positively—I had everypony talking. I'm proud that I have inspired ponies to create their own art. I am proud that I found something that brought me a sense of harmony with Canterlot that I have never felt before, not even though music.

And it is because of that pride that I have come to a decision: I have absolutely no intention of stopping.

I'm not about to give up what has brought me so much happiness—and brought other ponies happiness as well. When I decide to end my art, I will end it on my terms. I will not be bullied into ending something that means so much to me.

A certain pony told me that as far as he was concerned, Flanksy was dead. In a way, I suppose he's right. After what I did to the Elements of Harmony, after the way I acted, I'm not sure I want Flanksy to return either. He wants Flanksy gone? Flanksy will be gone.

But that doesn't mean I am gone.

I want to continue what I was doing: creating art that has never been seen in this city. Getting ponies talking. Following my harmony. Making Canterlot more beautiful.

I'm sure some of you don't like that I will be continuing my art, but as I said, I've come to understand that in what I do. And perhaps it sounds selfish of me to say this, but I'm not doing this for the ponies who hate what I’ve done. I’m not concerning myself with those who find me immoral or wrong, or those who wish to see my art eradicated.

I’m doing it for those of you who look forward to what I create. I’m doing it for the ponies who spent time in Canterlot Park for the time it was a sea of color. I’m doing it for the ponies who were inspired by me to create art of their own.

But most importantly, I’m doing it for me. I’m doing it because it’s what I want to do. I’m doing it because I don’t want to give up what has done so much for me. I’m doing it because I’ve atoned for my sins, and want to go back to making Canterlot beautiful.

I’m doing this because it’s my harmony.

Sincerely,
Octavia Melody
Formerly known as “Flanksy”

Vinyl laid on the couch reading yesterday’s newspaper. She had read it over and over again—at this point, she almost had it memorized—but she couldn’t help reading it one more time, a huge smile plastered on her face. As she read through it, the gentle notes of Setrotskan’s Prèlude wafted from across the apartment. Vinyl folded the newspaper up and trotted to Octavia’s room, where she found her roommate playing the cello.

“How ya feelin’?” Vinyl asked.

Octavia let out a long sigh. “Free.”

Vinyl smiled. “Awesome.”

For a bit, neither pony talked as Octavia continued playing. Vinyl rubbed her hoof into the ground, then looked back at the newspaper she had left on the table in the living room.

“Hey, I don’t want to make you feel bad or anything, but you haven’t been out of the house since yesterday morning.”

“Well, I haven’t had—“

Octavia stopped herself as she looked directly at Vinyl. The music slowly came to a stop and she laid her bow down, then sighed.

“I suppose I’m still nervous about everything,” she said.

“I don’t blame you,” Vinyl said. “I mean, there’s still a lot up in the air about this whole thing. But…”

“I know,” Octavia said. “I can’t stay cooped up forever. I’m going to have to face Canterlot at some point if I’m going to continue.”

“Exactly. I’m glad you understand that.”

Octavia looked over to her closet. Her Flanksy attire was no longer there, but there were a few cans of paint scattered along the ground. She looked them over, then stood up.

“Then I suppose there’s no time like the present.”

She began to walk through the apartment towards the front door as Vinyl jumped up.

“Whoah, really?” she asked. “It’s the middle of the day, there are gonna be a ton of ponies out. If you’re really nervous you could probably wait a little bit for things to calm down outside, maybe go out to dinner or something.”

Octavia reached the door and turned around to once again look directly at Vinyl. There was a determination burning in her eyes, one that Vinyl had not seen in Octavia in quite some time; she had last seen it when Octavia had told her that she wanted to change Canterlot, all those months ago just after the media had dubbed her “Flanksy.”

“Like I said in my letter, I am going to continue,” Octavia said, her voice full of confidence. “If I’m going to continue, I need to know what reaction I will be getting from Canterlot. You’re right, Vinyl; I am nervous about this, but I’m going to have to face it at some point. I’m through waiting, I’m through being on the defensive in this whole situation. I took action with that letter, and I’m going to continue that action right now. Right now, this isn’t about painting. This is about simply seeing how Canterlot is going to react to seeing me.”

Vinyl nodded. “I understand. Want me to come with you?”

“I have a feeling a lot of ponies are going to have a lot of questions to start off,” Octavia said. “Maybe it would be best if you stayed here.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Vinyl smiled and patted Octavia on the shoulder. “Lemme know how everything goes.”

Octavia nodded and turned to the door. She laid her hoof on the doorknob and momentarily felt a paralyzing chill shoot through her body; the last remnant of the anxiety in the back of her mind. Her hoof’s grip tightened around the doorknob.

Without another thought, she opened the door and stepped out into Canterlot.