Love Letters
Love Letters
© Scribbler, October 2014
Dear Bon-Bon,
How’s it going in Manehattan? Things are pretty much the same as always here: boring, boring, boring and … oh yeah, boring! I can’t believe it’s been a whole month already! I look forward to your letters every day. I’m always disappointed if the mailpony arrives and it’s just bills and junk. Not that I want you to take time away from what you’re doing if you’re busy with important! I understand that it’s hard to find the time. Just don’t forget your promise completely, okay? I can stretch to a letter every few days but after that my patience runs out and I may just have to get on a train and come see you. And don’t think I won’t! Just because I got on the wrong train once and ended up in Trottingham doesn’t mean I can’t find my way to Manehattan.
Hey, guess what? I got a sort-of promotion at work! And in answer to the question you no doubt just asked this piece of paper: yes, really. Noteworthy is letting me tutor somepony! It’s just basic one-on-one stuff, nothing special, but it’s a start! No, it’s not the lyre but singing is nearly as good. At least it gets me away from paperwork. Minuette nearly had a seizure when she saw how I’d been filing the invoices when it was my turn. I still can’t see why she was so mad. It was an honest mistake! Why should everything be filed alphabetically anyhow?
I hope you’re okay and everything is going well. Write soon. Like, soon, okay?
- Lyra Heartstrings
Darling Lyra.
Since when do you sign letters to me with your full name?
I’m doing well and so is everypony else. Relations with my mother and father are still strained but I expected that. Not all bridges are rebuilt quickly – or especially soundly. Sometimes I get the feeling they’d much rather I just went back to Ponyville already but I’m not giving up this time. Nonna Cioccolata says to tell you hello from her and she’s sending a special grandmotherly hug with this letter. She’s in the kitchen right now. I love her cooking. Remember how I used to tell you about her food? Well, now I can have it whenever I want!
You’d better be eating properly, Lyra. I don’t trust you not to forget. Make sure you get something from each food group in every meal and don’t rely on take-out. All that hydrogenated fat will clog up your arteries. I don’t want my next letter to be from some doctor in Ponyville Hospital telling me you’re in the ICU for a heart attack! Don’t have too much candy, either. You don’t do nearly as much exercise as you should to offset it. Trust me, I know candy and I know you.
I’m sorry if I sound like an old nag. I just worry about you now I’m not around to tell you these things in person. I get anxious that you’ll fall into bad habits. Remember what you were like before we met. Your house was a health hazard, your bedclothes were grey instead of white and you were eating cornflakes with a ladle because every other spoon was in the washing up bowl. I can’t tidy up the mess you leave around the house all the way from Manehattan, so you have to be more self-reliant and not let it get that bad again, okay? Promise me you’ll take care of yourself, Lyra, or I’ll worry myself sick.
I’d better go now. Nonna says dinner is ready.
Lots of love,
- Bon-Bon
Lyra pushed the envelope into the mailbox and nodded at the 'thunk' of it landing inside. Satisfied it would soon be winging its way to its destination, she trotted off down the street, ready to start her day on a happy note. She always felt more positive when she got a letter or sent one back. She smiled as she opened the door to Music Makers and waved at the pony on the front desk.
“Hi, Minuette!”
Minuette fumbled the paperwork she was holding. It slipped out over the desk, sheets swarming into the air like they were trying to escape out the open door. A pale blue glow grabbed hold before they could. The Minuette’s magic dragged each sheet of paper back into place and holstered them with a large paperclip. Only then did she look Lyra’s way.
“Lyra? You’re here. And early.”
“I know! I was surprised too.” Lyra ambled through to the cloakroom where everypony hung their outer wear in bad weather. The world lay under a thick white blanket outside but the heaters in the little shop were on full blast, making it an oasis of heat in a sea of snow. She shucked her coat and jammed it on her peg. “Still, better too early than too late, huh?”
“That’s … remarkably positive of you.” Minuette peered around the cloakroom door. Suspiciously, she added, “You’re very chipper this morning.”
“Am I?” Lyra trilled. “I hadn’t noticed. Is Boss Pony in?”
“Noteworthy,” Minuette correctly archly, “is upstairs in the office.”
“Oh. Cool.”
“Did you want him for something?”
“Nothing in particular. I’m just teaching my first student today and I wanted to make sure everything’s all set.”
Minuette consulted the sheaf of papers. “Your appointment is booked for noon.”
Lyra squeaked happily and danced in place. “I still can’t believe I’m actually going to be teaching somepony!”
“Yes.” Minuette lowered the notes to peer at her. “Me neither. Lyra, are you sure you’re up to this?”
“Silly filly! Why wouldn’t it be?” Lyra pressed the tip of her hoof to Minuette’s nose. “Boop!”
Minuette didn’t quite leap backwards but it was close. “Don’t do that!”
“What? This?” Lyra advanced. “Boop!”
“Quit that!” Minuette shove her hoof away. She tried to look dignified but Lyra’s continued onslaught of booping made her telekinetically lift her paperwork and bat at the hooves that wouldn’t leave her alone. “Lyra! I don’t like it!”
Lyra giggled and kept up her assault – at least until somepony behind her coughed. She immediately turned, recognising that cough. She also recognised the edge to it that said the cougher was trying very hard to keep from laughing. Sure enough, Noteworthy stood at the bottom of the staircase, one eyebrow raised.
“Boss Pony!”
“Noteworthy!” Minuette stood to attention.
“Good morning, Lyra.” Noteworthy nodded at her. “You’re early.”
She threw him a cheeky salute. “Do I get paid more for the extra time I’m here?”
“Nice try.”
“Aw! This is slave labour!”
“Noteworthy,” Minuette interrupted, “I saw that we’re due a shipment of resin today.”
He sighed. “Yep, but I’m due to be teaching when it arrives. Lyra too. Could you deal with the delivery ponies?”
“Of course.” Minuette swelled at the responsibility. Lyra shot her a sideways glance that she missed completely. “You can count on me.”
“Cool.” Lacking a horn, Noteworthy trotted to the filing cabinet and extracted a folder with his hooves. He kicked it shut behind him with one rear leg, deftly balancing the open folder on the flat of an unturned flat forehoof. “So, Lyra, are you all set for your first tutoring gig?”
“Am I ever! I still can’t believe you’re letting me do this. I’m super stoked!” Lyra grinned.
“Then I guess, since you’re not teaching until noon, you won’t mind retuning the practise violins this morning?”
Her grin faded, the bright gusto of her mood temporarily dampening. “Aw, but Boss Pony, that’s so boring!”
“Sorry, Lyra, but it’s your turn. Here’s the key to the cabinet.” He held out the silver key and she accepted it sullenly. “Go on now.”
“You can be a real downer sometimes, Boss Pony,” she muttered as she trotted off to the practise rooms.
Minuette had held her tongue while Lyra was still in earshot. Now, however, she allowed it more freedom. Concern laced her words as she whispered, “Are you sure it’s okay to let her tutor? Now of all times?”
Noteworthy looked away from the door, which he had been staring at fixedly since it shut. “I think it’s the perfect time,” he replied. Gone was the edge of laughter from his voice. Gone, too, was the jovial gleam from his eyes. His shoulders slumped as if weighed down by a heavy invisible poncho. “It’ll help take her mind off things.”
“It doesn’t seem to be on them very much.” Realising how unkind that sounded, Minuette hastily added, “Uh, I mean, it seems like she’s coping fine without introducing tutoring to her routine. You said you wanted to train her more before unleashing her on unsuspecting students.”
“Unleashing?” Noteworthy echoed. “That seems a bit harsh.”
“On anypony else, maybe, but this is Lyra. Remember what happened when she spoke at the school on Music Appreciation Day?”
Noteworthy’s expression flickered like a television with bad reception. For a moment, Minuette believed she had made a dent in his resolve. She pressed her advantage.
“Miss Cheerilee should have put Lyra in detention with those foals for teaching them those rude lyrics in the first place!”
The bad reception cleared. Minuette’s heart sank as Noteworthy shook his head. “Yes, well, that was then and this is now. When I said she needed more training, she did. Now I think she’s ready.”
“You don’t sound very convinced.”
He let out a sharp breath. “What do you want from me? This hasn’t been easy on any of us. We’re all walking on eggshells as it is. You saw her face. She’s excited at the prospect of tutoring a student. She might be coping better because she has this to look forward to.”
“Maybe.” Minuette sucked air in between her teeth. She siuded more disapproving than an overzealous pageant mother who had discovered her daughter playing kissy-face with a bad boy behind the bleachers. “You’re the boss.”
“Yes.” He closed his eyes in something slightly too long to be a blink. “I am. This is my store and I’ll run it the way I see fit!” he growled.
“N-Noteworthy …” Minuette was shocked at his tone as well as his words. He had never spoken to her like that before. She had been his first employee when he opened this store. She had seen it grow from a simple place that sold instruments into Ponyville’s go-to establishment for lessons in every kind of music imaginable. Music Makers had a reputation built on good decisions, good service and attention to detail. The third of these was mostly down to Minuette and her legendary skills of organisation and excellent timing. Never, in all her time at there, had Noteworthy ever sounded so mad at her.
He hung his head. “Sorry, Minnie, that came out wrong. I just … ugh, I don’t know what to do for the best. This seemed like a good idea at the time.”
Forcibly ignoring how her heart jittered when he said her – the one she only ever allowed him to use – Minuette smiled reassuringly. “I’ll sure it’ll be fine. You have good judgement.” Pausing for only a moment she added, “I’ve always trusted it.”
Looking up but not raising his head, he gave her a small smile. “Thanks, Minnie. That means a lot.” He stood up and rolled his shoulders as if they ached. “Sometimes I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You’re … you’re welcome!” she squeaked.
“And now I’d better get back upstairs and finish those order forms so you can give them to the delivery ponies when they arrive. See you later.”
“Yes. Later. You. See. Um see you! Later! Seeyoulater!” Minuette was so focussed on watching him climb the stairs, she didn’t hear the door to the practise rooms open. She did, however, hear the voice that called through it the moment the office door closed.
“One of these days, Minnie, you’re going to have to tell him about this crush thing.”
Lyra’s giggle was muffled by the door when the glowing blue folder crashed against it.
My dearest Bon-Bon,
I taught my first lesson today! It was so cool. Do you remember Sweetie Belle, Rarity’s little sister? She and her friends considered each of us as potential candidates for dating Big Macintosh on Hearts n’ Hooves Day – at least until they figured out we were a couple. Well, she got her cutie mark earlier this month and guess what? It’s a musical note! Yep, we got another one. I’m cackling evilly right now, even though I know you can’t hear it and it’d look dumb written down.
Oh, what the hay. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha haaaaaa!
Did you hear that all the way in Manehattan? I’ll bet you did. You always said I have the loudest voice in all Equestria. I can remember when that was a good thing, like when you won that bake-off last Summer. Nopony in living memory has ever beaten Granny Smith’s homemade apple pie before, but your triple fudge cake with popping candy icing was the greatest thing the judges had ever tasted. I yelled so loud you looked directly at me, even though I was right at the back of the crowd.
I can also remember when me being really loud was a bad thing. Sweet Celestia, that romantic weekend to Horseshoe Bay! Remember that? Your face when those Girl Scouts came running from their campout to see what all the yelling was about! Classic! I’m so glad blushing isn’t as obvious through green fur as it is through cream.
I miss you so much, Bon-Bon. Thinking about stuff like that makes me all nostalgic and I get this funny feeling in my stomach, like I want to puke, only I don’t. I think it’s because I want you here with me and it kills me to know I can’t just wiggle my horn and make it happen. I know you have to be where you are. I understand, I really do, but that doesn’t make it any easier.
What am I doing, writing all that baloney? You only want to hear about happy stuff! I was telling you about Sweetie Belle. Rarity is so proud of her! It almost makes me wish I had a little sister so I could dote on her and enrol her in singing lessons too. I wouldn’t be so snooty when I saw her tutor though. She asked Minuette if Noteworthy was available to do it instead of me! Can you believe that? But Minuette actually stood up for me. Yes, you read that right. Minuette stood up to Rarity for me! She said I was a brilliant tutor and Music Makers was proud to have me. I think I may have fainted for a little bit before Rarity brought Sweetie Belle through to the practise room. Rarity wasn’t pleased when I said she couldn’t stay and watch the lesson, either. Sweetie Belle said she didn’t mind her big sister hanging around but I could tell the poor kid was nervous, so I ousted her sis and told her to come back in an hour. I think hearing Minuette talk smack to Rarity gave me the confidence to do it too. She looked so shocked when I closed the door, I actually felt a little sorry for her. I guess she wasn’t being a pain in the rump on purpose. She was just worried about somepony she cares about. I can relate.
Sweetie Belle is an awesome little filly. We did basic scales and she was pitch-perfect every time. Plus, talk about lungs! You think I’m loud when I really let rip and sing? This kid would blow your ears out if she ever let rip like that – and she’s only a beginner! I foresee great things for her.
I’d better end this letter here. The timer on my dinner just pinged. I’m having sautéed carrots and potato gratin tonight. See, I am eating properly. Yesterday I even did laundry. And no, I didn’t put any whites in the colour wash. You don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine.
Love you forever,
- Lyra
Darling Lyra.
I want to hear about happy stuff and everything else besides. If it’s happening to you, it’s worth hearing about.
It sounds like you enjoyed your first tutoring session. Yes, I remember Sweetie Belle – she and her friends used to come into my shop all the time. She loved to buy gobstoppers and toffees with her allowance. You’ll have to make sure she stops that now or she’ll lose a tooth and ruin her singing career. Scootaloo never had as much money as the other two. I suspect they were each subbing her some of theirs because she didn’t have enough bits, so I always put an extra scoop into their bags as a reward. I know, I know, what kind of business gives away stock like that? Apple Bloom used to tell me all the time that it would be a canny business decision for me to start selling candied apple pieces along with candied orange peels. She even told me I should name them ‘Apple Bloomers’ until her friends told her what Bloomers really are.
Rarity is a brilliant big sister. Did you hear what she did at the last Sisterhooves Social? I couldn’t believe it when Derpy told me. I sort of miss hearing her screech and go into one of her drama queen routines. Rarity, that is; not Derpy. I don’t think Derpy could screech even if she tried. I miss everything about Ponyville; even the stuff I said was annoying or tiresome while I was there. Things here haven’t improved, so I guess I’ll be staying for a while longer.
I miss you too, Lyra. I miss you with all my heart and I wish I could be there with you. I’d say I wish you could be here with me, but it sounds like you’re having a much better time in Ponyville than I’m having in Manehattan.
Stay safe.
Love you forever and a day,
- Bon-Bon
Sweetie Belle rubbed her hooves together. This was stupid. She loved singing. Why was she so nervous?
“You okay there, kiddo?”
“Um, yeah.” This wasn’t fair. She had longed for her cutie mark for so long! Now it felt like a brand on her flank, telling both her and the world that they had better sit up and take notice. The pressure of that realisation made her breathing quicken like she had been running, even though she had been sitting still since she arrived.
“You don’t sound okay.” Her singing tutor crouched to look into her face, twisting her own head so that it was practically upside down. “Sweet Celestia, was the thought of coming back to see me really so bad?”
Sweetie Belle shook her head.
“You could have fooled me. That’s the face of somepony on their way to the executioner.”
“The what?” Sweetie Belle blinked.
Her tutor drew a line across her throat with one hoof and made a noise like a rusty zipper.
“Oh. Um, no, really, it’s fine. I … I’ve been looking forward to our Lesson, Miss Heartstrings.”
The tutor eyed her for a second. Then she untwisted position and sat down on the floor with a heavy thump. “Okay, first of all, it’s Lyra. If you call me ‘Miss Heartstrings’ you make me sound like an old fart.”
Sweetie Belle blinked at her, nonplussed. “Wha-?”
“Second of all,” Lyra went on, steamrollering over any objections. “Let’s get something straight. You?” She pointed. “Are allowed to be nervous. Getting a cutie mark is the best thing that could possibly happen to a pony – and also the worst. You go from having the potential to do anything to having everypony expect you to be good at the thing your butt tells them you’re good at. That’s a lot of pressure for anypony to handle.”
Sweetie Belle was startled at the mare’s incisiveness. “I … how did you … huh?”
“How did I guess what’s going on in that head of yours?” Lyra grinned. “Kiddo, everypony thinks those things at first. You show me a pony who says they never worried about being good at their special talent and I’ll point and laugh and call them a liar.” She paused. “And I’ll throw muffins at them until they admit it.”
Sweetie Belle continued to stare.
“Your sister didn’t enrol you in lessons because she’s worried you’ll be bad at singing.”
Something inside Sweetie Belle tautened. She swallowed. “I …”
Lyra narrowed her eyes at her. “You do know that, right? That is a thing you know?”
Sweetie Belle dropped her gaze. Her flank seemed to ache, each zinging sensation a curved edge of a musical note. “Rarity’s so perfect at her special talent,” she whispered. “She just has to look at a piece of fabric and she knows how to make it into something beautiful. Everypony admires the clothes she makes. Even ponies who don’t like clothes admire them!” Her voice rose in pitch. “And I … how am I supposed to compete with that? The only time I ever tried singing in public with my friends, we botched it up so badly we were a laughing stock!”
Lyra winced. “The school talent show? Yeah, I heard about that. Wait … that wasn’t a comedy act?”
“No!” Sweetie Belle cried.
“Hm.” Lyra adopted a thoughtful expression. “So what?”
“Huh?” Sweetie Belle sniffed and stared at her.
“So. What?” Lyra repeated. “So you looked foolish. So what? I look foolish all the time. And idiotic. And dumb. And stupid. That’s part of life.”
“Yeah, but at least you don’t look stupid when you play your lyre! You don’t look foolish when you’re doing your special talent!” Sweetie Belle said desperately.
“How do you know?” Lyra tilted her head, inviting the challenge. “Did you hear me play when I first started?”
“I …” Sweetie Belle stopped. “No,” she was forced to admit.
“So how do you know I wasn’t awful to begin with?”
“Because it’s your special talent. That’s how it works.”
“Baloney!” Lyra laughed. “Something being your special talent doesn’t mean you’re immediately good at it. It means you have the potential to be good at it and enjoy it. If we were all immediately good at the things we love, well, what would be the point? How the heck could we enjoy the rest of our lives if we were already perfect at the thing we loved most? Do you like singing?”
“Uh … yeah?” Sweetie Belle answered.
“Then who cares if you’re good at it yet?”
“But Rarity –”
“Third of all, kiddo,” Lyra interrupted. She held up a hoof to stop Sweetie Belle’s words. “Never ever compare yourself with others – even those you love.” She paused. “Especially those you love. You’re not them and they’re not you. The same rules don’t apply to everypony. Do what you do, feel what you feel and never think that being nervous or worried or whatever is a bad thing. It’s what makes us strive to be better and gives us a reason to enjoy our special talents.”
It took a long moment, but eventually Sweetie Belle nodded. “I … I guess so.”
“Cool!” Lyra sat back. “So, are you ready to warm up those pipes?”
“I … yeah. Yeah, I am.”
“Brilliant!” Lyra’s grin could have equalled the sun in intensity as she reached for the needle on the record player. “How do you feel about show tunes?”
Minuette watched Sweetie Belle skip around her sister as they walked down the street. The filly seemed to have more energy after lesson than before them. She wondered how Rarity coped.
With lots of freak-outs, no doubt.
The door to the practise room was ajar. Since she was due to have the next student today, she decided to check it was neat and tidy enough for her exacting standards. She shuddered at the memory of Lyra’s loose attitude to their filing system and dreaded to think what kind of state the room would be in after one of her lessons.
No sounds came from within. Had Lyra gone already? Minuette frowned. Surely not; she would have seen her. Had Lyra sneaked away to get out of tidying up?
The door creaked open at a tiny push. Inside, Lyra sat next to the record player. She stared at needle, still suspended above the spinning record. She didn’t turn around at the sound of Minuette’s hooves.
“Lyra?”
No response.
Minuette crossed the room. “Lyra!” Annoyance frosted her tone. She didn’t like to be ignored. She reached out and turned the other mare to face her.
Lyra blinked rapidly as if woken from a trance. “Huh? What?”
Minuette clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Honestly, daydreaming? At your age? I need you to clear the room, Lyra. My student arrives in twenty minutes and I need to get ready.”
“Oh!” Lyra shook her head like she was trying to clear it. “Sorry, Minnie. I was … I was a million miles away for a second there.”
Minuette flushed. “Don’t call me that!”
The corners of Lyra’s mouth curled upwards. She looked more like herself again as she said slyly, “What? Minnie?” She pursed her lips and made kissing noises.
The noise that emerged from Minutte’s throat could reasonably be called a squawk. Lyra laughed as she was chased around the room and out the door.
Ponyville’s sole supermarket was a tiny place with narrow aisles and tightly packed stock on every shelf. It embodied the phrase ‘less is more’: less space to move around but more items per square inch. Shopping for groceries was a hazard if you didn’t have a cart as a combination shield and battering ram.
Lyra sucked in her belly to allow one such cart to inch past her. It scraped a few hairs, pulling them out by their roots. The mare pushing it didn’t even say sorry as she stared fixedly at the chiller cabinets. Lyra allowed her gut to pop back out and could have sworn she heard each internal organ slurp back into place.
“Sweet Celestia, rude much?” she muttered. She reached for the last microwave dinner on the opposite side of the aisle. As she did, another hoof closed on the other end. “Aw, nuts. Hey, hooves off!”
“I saw it first!”
“You did –” Lyra blinked as she took in the multi-coloured mane and tail before her. “ –not! Rainbow Dash? The heck? What are you doing here?”
Pegasi rarely shopped at the supermarket. They went to the weekly farmers’ market, sure, but otherwise all their buying needs were catered for by Cloudsdale stores. You couldn’t buy dew soup or other pegasi delicacies in a ground-bound place, after all.
“Since when do you shop down here?”
Rainbow Dash scowled like Lyra had just accused her mother of having unlawful relations with a manticore. “I can shop wherever I want! And I want that meal!”
Something bubbled inside Lyra. She didn’t get angry easily but a sliver of irritation shot through her now. “Well I saw it first!”
“Did not!”
“Rainbow Dash! What the hay are you doin’ now?” A second pony appeared beside them as if by magic, though the shopping cart and wake of irritated faces told Lyra exactly how she had been able to get to them so fast. She startled when she saw Lyra. “M-Miss Heartstrings!”
“Hi, Applejack,” Lyra chirruped, not letting up her grip on the meal. Rainbow Dash shook it, causing Lyra’s foreleg to bounce up and down. Her voice vibrated in time with the motion. “How’s it shaking?”
Applejack took in the stalemate. Quick asa striking snake, she pried Rainbow Dash’s hoof away. Lyra place the meal triumphantly in her basket. She refrained from sticking her tongue at the incensed pegasus, but only just.
“Applejack, what in the name of Celestia are you doin’? You don’t need that dinner. We don’t even have a microwave on the farm!”
“Seriously? But how do you pop popcorn?”
“The old fashioned way: on the stove.”
Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes. “I’m living in the dark ages.”
Lyra’s gaze flicked between them curiously. “You two are … living together now? Wow, and here I was thinking you had a good few months of denial left in you before you even acknowledged–”
“Not like that,” Applejack said hastily. “Rainbow here thought it was a mighty fine idea to practise loop-de-loops blindfolded like Spitfire. She didn’t account for geese.”
“That flock came out of nowhere,” Rainbow Dash muttered. “It was sabotage. I was being punished for not picking a goose as my pet instead of Tank.”
“As I was sayin’,” Applejack continued, “I saw her take her tumble. She fetched up in one of my finest apple trees. Knocked herself out and was jus’ danglin’ there like a really big zap apple. The doctor said she ain’t to fly for a spell, so we all agreed she could stay at Sweet Apple Acres until she’s all healed up.”
“Healed up?” Lyra peered around and finally noticed the swathe of bandages around Rainbow Dash’s left wing.
Rainbow Dash tilted her head back like a boxer daring an opponent to take a swing at her. “It’s just a torn ligament. I’ll be back in the sky in no time.”
“You’ll be back to flyin’ when the doctor says you are, missy,” Applejack corrected in a bossy tone so familiar it made the backs of Lyra’s eyes prickle. She could just imagine Applejack telling Rainbow Dash to eat something from each food group for every meal and remember to take out the garbage. “Until then, you’re grounded an’ I’m gonna make sure you stay grounded an’ don’t take no more stupid risks in the name of provin’ how ‘awesome like Spitfire’ you are. Or how stupid you are. I ain’t sure which yet.”
“How can you be my age and sound like such an old nag?” Rainbow Dash snapped. “Did you have your sense of fun surgically removed or something?”
Applejack ignored her. “Uh, Lyra? You okay, sugarcube?”
“I … I’m fine,” Lyra sniffed. “I’m just … uh … really happy I got the last microwave dinner and actually beat Rainbow Dash at something!”
“Why you little –”
Lyra danced out of reach, giggling wildly. She brandished her wire basket above her head like a trophy and continued down the aisle backwards – right up until she crashed into a shopping cart coming the other way. She yelped as she fell in and leaned back to meet the upside-down gaze of its owner.
“Hi, Berry.”
“Lyra!” Berry Punch raised a hoof to her mouth in alarm. “Why are you sitting on my groceries?”
“Hi Lyra!” Berry Pinch threw up her hooves in delight at her unanticipated cart-buddy. She was strapped into the actual plastic seat, whereas Lyra’s cutie mark was making friends with a sack of potatoes, a bag of carrots and very cold packet of frozen peas. “Wanna make the cart go fast, Lyra? I keep trying but my magic isn’t good enough yet. But your magic can make it go super-duper fast!”
“No can do, kiddo. The security ponies in this place frown on ponies making the carts go faster than an arthritic rabbit.” Lyra hefted herself off the groceries and blew mane from her eyes. “Sorry about that, Berry.”
“Uh, that’s okay,” Berry Punch replied, though her expression belied her words.
Lyra glanced over her shoulder. Applejack was fussing over Rainbow Dash, trying to make her stop flaring her wings because she was mad. Lyra felt a little guilty for that. She didn’t want Rainbow Dash to do herself any permanent damage but she had needed an excuse to get away from them. That had been too close for comfort.
“Well, I guess I’d better be moseying along. See you around, Berry!” She made her way as fast as she could to the check-out, paid for her solitary item and left the store at a brisk trot.
“What the heck are you doin’, pickin’ fights with her?” Anger curled around Applejack’s words like choking ivy. “Don’t you got any sensitivity?”
“She started it,” Rainbow Dash began.
“Do not try that with me, Rainbow. You know as well as I do why you shouldn’t be pickin’ fights with her, of all ponies.”
“What?”
“That was Lyra Heartstrings!”
“I know.” Rainbow Dash continued to blink uncomprehendingly at her. “Why did you even tell her about my accident, anyhow? She’s not anypony special.”
“Not anypony … I can’t believe you just said that! Don’t you remember?”
“Remember what?”
“So help me, Rainbow, if you don’t start usin’ you brain I am gonna beat you with this here jar of artichokes until you do.”
“Hey, whoa, steady on!” Rainbow Dash raised her hooves. “I don’t understand what you’re getting so worked up over. It’s not like you and she are best buds or anything!”
“I may not be as close to her as I am to my friends,” Applejack admitted, anger still tightening her words like a noose. “But that don’t mean I’m insensitive to what she’s gone through.”
“What she’s gone …” Realisation dawned in Rainbow Dash’s eyes. Immediately, a blush appeared on her cheeks that raised the ambient temperature of the supermarket by several degrees. “OhmygoshLyraHeartstringsohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh!” she gabbled, alarm blurring her words. “I didn’t realise … oh my gosh, I was … and she’s … and her … ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh!”
“Yeah,” Applejack agreed. “Couldn’t have put it better myself.”
My dearest Bon-Bon,
Hi! I just realised I never start these letters the way I’d actually talk to you. Hi, sweetie, how was your day?
Today wasn’t so great for me. I got a little upset in the supermarket and came home without even half the stuff I went in for. I didn’t want to go back so I have to go again tomorrow and you know how I feel about grocery shopping. I reckon Tartarus is actually just an infinite replica of Ponyville’s E Z Shop.
I saw Sweetie Belle for her second lesson yesterday. Poor filly was a bag of nerves but I managed to get her to loosen up by the end. Her third lesson is booked for next Thursday so I’ll let you know how that goes. I wrote myself a note about the toffees so I would remember to tell her but I think there’s not much danger of her getting any in the meantime. Nopony has taken over running of your shop yet. I went past there on my way home from the supermarket. All the candy jars are still on the shelves, waiting for you to come back and serve them. I laughed at what you wrote about giving Sweetie Belle and her friends extra scoops. That sounds exactly like something you’d do.
Remember when we talked about having a foal? I’m still not sold on the whole ‘magical pregnancy thing’. Scootaloo lives with foster parents and I reckon we’d be better off doing something like that before we commit to a filly or colt of our own. Who knows? Maybe adoption would be a better route for us.
I’d better stop. The paper looks all blurry. I bet my blood sugar is low. I’m having cheesy mashed potato with thyme tonight. You’d be so proud of me, eating all this luxury food. And I’m making it all myself, I swear! I’m using that cookbook you left behind. I haven’t even ordered one pizza since I you left, I swear. Just good, wholesome, homemade grub for me from now on.
Love you forever and TWO days,
- Lyra
Darling Lyra.
The only reason I didn’t want adoption was because I want our foal to be a part of both of us. I love the idea of carrying a life inside me – even more if that life is something you helped me make. But I’m not totally against adoption. How about for our foal’s brothers and sisters we adopt? I’d love a big family. I don’t want our foal to be alone and lonely. I always wanted brothers or sisters when I was growing up. It would have given me somepony to talk to on the bad days.
I saw the stains at the end of your last letter. Please don’t cry, my darling. Nonna is asleep in the next room and if she hears me bawling she’ll have one of her funny turns. She hasn’t had another since the one that brought me out here, for which I’m grateful. I don’t want to be the cause of a second but if I think about how sad you are I can’t help but cry too. The only reason I’m not crying my eyes out right now is because I’m thinking of our foal and what he or she might look like. Picturing him or her in my head is a great leveller. It makes me so happy to think of that instead.
I miss you so much Lyra but please, please, PLEASE don’t be sad.
Love you forever and three days,
- Bon-Bon
“Hi, Lyra.”
Lyra turned to see a small white filly running towards her. “Sweetie Belle! Hi there, kiddo. What’s shaking?”
“Nothing much. Winter vacation is more boring than I expected.” Sweetie Belle pulled a face. “Scootaloo’s family have gone to visit some cousin in Cloudsdale, Apple Bloom’s helping to keep Rainbow Dash occupied and Rarity…” She scrunched up her face. “She has an important order to fill and doesn’t want me under her hooves. Can I hang out with you?”
Lyra blinked in surprise. “Uh, sure. I just got off work so I don’t need to be anyplace special.” She thought of the supermarket and dismissed it immediately.
“Were you posting a letter?” Sweetie Belle craned her neck, as if this would help her see inside the mailbox.
“Yep. Just in time, too.” Lyra pointed at a descending grey and blue dot in the sky. Derpy weaved from side to side but performed an admirably competent touchdown – inasmuch as she didn’t crash into them, the mailbox or the ground.
“Perfect landing!” she declared, her nasally voice glowing with pride. “Oh! Hi Lyra. Hi Sweetie Belle.”
“Yo.” Lyra waved.
Sweetie Belle giggled. “Good afternoon, Miss Hooves.”
“You’re running a little late today, aren’t you Derpy?” said Lyra. “I didn’t think I’d catch you.”
“Dinky is sick. I had to wait for the babysitter, since I didn’t want to leave her alone.” Derpy shook out a sack emblazoned with the Equestrian Royal Mail emblem. She used a key strung around her neck to open the front of the mailbox and scooped up the tumble of letters and parcels that fell out.
“Oh no,” Sweetie Belle exclaimed, as if this was genuinely the worst news she could have received. “Is Dinky going to be okay?”
“It’s just a touch of flu,” Derpy replied, obviously cheered by her interest. “It’s really more annoying than anything else. She wants to go out and play with her friends but you can never be too careful with these things. I worry endlessly about her. Heh, I have to remind myself sometimes that every filly and colt needs to have a few scraped knees to teach them their limits for the future.”
“Yeah,” Lyra said tightly. “You can never be too careful about making sure those you love are safe and well.”
Sensing the sudden shift in mood, Derpy looked up with a frown. “Are you okay, Lyra?”
“I’m fine,” Lyra said in the same tone. “Just peachy.” She walked stiffly away, not checking or even remembering that she had a sidekick at the moment.
“Bye Miss Hooves! Tell Dinky I hope she gets better soon!” Sweetie Belle called over her shoulder.
“I will. Thank you!” Derpy replied as she took off, weaving even more wildly under the weight of the full mail sack.
Mrs. Cake smiled at everyone who entered Sugarcube Corner. She had always made it a policy to be cheerful to customers, even before Pinkie Pie arrived in Ponyville. After the irrepressible pink pony came to work for them it had been difficult not to smile. Pinkie just exuded an aura of joy that affected everyone and everything around her. Half the time, Mrs. Cake reckoned ponies came to eat and drink in their little café not because it was the best in town, but because they wanted something more than just food and drink. They wanted a slice of happiness with their sweets and Pinkie was more than happy to serve it to them.
So when Lyra Heartstrings walked in looking angry, Mrs. Cake’s first reaction was to summon Pinkie and let her deal with the situation. Pinkie, however, was elbow deep in muffin mix and wouldn’t be able to work the cash register until she was done. Mr. Cake had taken Pound and Pumpkin to the playground, which left his wife alone at the counter as Lyra stalked towards it.
Fortunately, somepony else skipped ahead of her. “Hi, Mrs. Cake!”
“Sweetie Belle!” Mrs. Cake liked the polite filly and appreciated the smiling buffer between herself and Lyra’s frown. “What can I get you today, dear?”
“I’ll have a chocolate milkshake with whipped cream topping, please.” Sweetie Belle placed two shiny bits on the counter. “Lyra, would you like something?”
Lyra blinked at her uncomprehendingly for a moment. Then her expression cleared. “Whoa there, kiddo, this is my treat,” she said, sliding the two bits back into Sweetie Belle’s hooves. “What did she order, Mrs. Cake?”
Mrs. Cake tried not to acknowledge that Lyra had been standing only inches away and yet totally missed what Sweetie Belle had said. “Chocolate milkshake with whipped cream topping, dear.”
“Can I get that in mint?” Lyra eyed the menu on the chalkboard. “Hey, you got strawberry sponge cake as today’s special! That sounds good. I’ll have a slice of that, please, and Sweetie Belle will have …” Lyra gestured for her to finish the sentence herself.
“Do you have any muffins today?” Sweetie Belle asked in a near-whisper, as if she didn’t want anypony to overhear what she said.
“Pinkie’s just baking a batch, dear.”
“What kind?”
“Three different kinds: triple chocolate, blueberry and raspberry. If you’d like to wait a little while, you can have one fresh from the oven.”
“Can we, Lyra?” Sweetie Belle looked up at her like she actually needed her permission. Mrs. Cake couldn’t ever remember seeing these two together before. She wondered at the story behind this outing. Was Sweetie Belle once again trying to find a temporary replacement big sister? If so, she could have chosen better.
No, that’s crass, Mrs. Cake chastised herself. What a cruel thought! Lyra has always been a cheerful pony. It’s not her fault things have been difficult lately. Sweetie Belle may be good for her.
Lyra scratched the back of her head. “Er, sure. Fine with me.”
“You two just find yourselves a table and I’ll bring your milkshakes over,” Mrs Cake promised.
Sweetie Belle skipped away. Lyra trundled after her, looking mildly bewildered. Mrs. Cake watched them slide into a booth, wondering again how and why two unconnected ponies were sitting in her café – and why she had such a sense of relief that they were no longer at the counter.
“Rarity says she’s real proud of me for practising my scales like you showed me,” Sweetie Belle said breezily. “She was around my age when she got her cutie mark too, only she got dragged twenty miles outside Ponyville by her magic when hers appeared!” She peered up at Lyra, interest buzzing behind her eyes. “What was it like when you got your cutie mark, Lyra?”
Lyra shook off the last of her daze. She hated it when that happened. She lost track of time and place for a while, though by all accounts she functioned perfectly well while she was zoned out. Once, she had come back to herself at the front desk of Music Makers, holding an empty can of baked beans with no idea where the contents had gone. She hated baked beans. They always gave her gas. Thankfully, this time all she had done was wander into Sugarcube Corner after … sweet Celestia, had she made it to the mailbox in time?
An image of Derpy shaking out a mailbag popped into her head. Lyra breathed a smile of relief. She hadn’t been too late.
“Lyra?”
She refocused on Sweetie Belle. “Huh?”
“How’d you get your cutie mark?”
“My cutie mark?” Lyra paused and then grinned “A, now there’s a story. See, in high school we sometimes had guest teachers who came in and taught us special one-off lessons. We had astronomers from the Canterlot Observatory who came to teach science, Royal Guard drill sergeants who ran boot camp PE lessons, musicians from orchestras and bands who taught us music – stuff like that.”
“Wow, really?” Sweetie Belle seemed honestly impressed. “Cool!”
Lyra spread her forelegs, playing to her audience. “One day in my final year, this string quartet came to our music class. Those things usually have two violins, a viola and a cello, but this one had substituted one violinist for a lyrist on account of their violinist fell down the stairs and fractured her playing hoof. It was bad luck for her but it changed my life. I was just about hypnotised while they played for us! I’d never heard anything like it. I even listened when the boring talking part started.” She twisted up her face at an unpleasant memory. “I, uh, wasn’t the greatest student in school.”
Sweetie Belle’s grimace matched Lyra’s perfectly. “Me either, but my dad says it happened even to the best ponies, and that when he was in school it took him three years to learn all twelve multiplication tables.”
Lyra blinked at her. For some reason she had thought Sweetie Belle’s only family was her sister. The news that both she and Rarity did, in fact, have at least a father was surprising. So why was Rarity the one to arrange Sweetie Belle’s singing lessons? she wondered. Lyra shook off the question and carried on.
“The quartet ponies told us all about what it was like playing in the Hoofington Conservatoire. At lunch that day, I was running from some bullies and hid in the music room. You might find this hard to believe, kiddo, but I haven’t always been the coolest pony in the history of ever. In fact, I wasn’t exactly high on the pecking order at all back then.”
“Were you bullied?” Sweetie Belle’s face became such a heartfelt mask of sympathy that it actually stopped Lyra in her tracks. There was something in the filly’s eyes that shot through her own heart, sending sparks of respondent sympathy through her veins: recognition. Sweetie Belle knew what it was like to be picked on.
“Um … yeah, I guess so. I ducked into the music room, thinking I’d squash myself under the teacher’s desk. After the fillies and colts who were chasing me had gone past, I came out and realised the lyrist had left her instrument on a stool ready to play for the next class. I picked it up and pulled at the strings because … well, I guess because I wanted to know what it felt like to be that pretty pony. The sound I made was awful, but it felt so good that I wanted to keep playing anyhow; like, if I kept playing, all my troubles would just get washed away by the music…” Lyra trailed off. Moments later she shook her head, realising she was about to zone out again. “And then poof! I had my cutie mark.”
“High school?” Sweetie Belle gaped. “You mean you were a teenager before you got your cutie mark?”
“I was nearly graduated by the time I figured out my special talent,” Lyra corrected, smiling as if this didn’t bother her. It used to but it didn’t anymore. She had always felt like she was a little behind everypony else, missing out on things by only a hairsbreadth – a day late and a bit short, as they said. That had ended the day she met Bon-Bon. “You should count yourself lucky you got yours in grade school so you have a chance to hone your skills before all the complicated stuff happens.”
“Complicated stuff?”
Lyra wanted to pat Sweetie Belle on her head. High school was awful for those who didn’t fit in but she suspected Sweetie Belle was destined to be one of the pretty fillies who, though they didn’t rule the place, weren’t picked on like those on the lower social strata. Certainly, she would have no shortage of male admirers willing to defend her if she turned out anything like her sister.
“Never mind. No point making you worry before you have to. You should enjoy being a kid for a while.”
“I’m not a kid,” Sweetie Belle protested. A pout trembled at the corners of her mouth.
At that moment Mrs Cake arrived with two frothy glasses on a tea trolley. She set the green in front of Lyra and the brown by Sweetie Belle. Scoops of ice-cream floated in the liquid beneath mounds of whipped cream.
“I put in a little extra for you girls,” Mrs. Cake explained, passing each a long spoon. “The muffins should be ready in a while.”
“Thanks, Mrs Cake!” Pout forgotten, Sweetie Belle dug her spoon though the whipped cream and ate a mouthful. She closed her eyes in rapture. “Mmmm … you always make the best ice-cream!”
“Actually we buy it from the cow settlement just outside town. They make it themselves from their own milk, sweetened with honey from the hives they keep.”
“It’s scrumptious!” Sweetie Belle shoved in another mouthful.
Mrs. Cake laughed. “I’ll tell Mooriella the next time I see her that it has your stamp of approval.
“Mff!”
Lyra waited for the kindly mare to leave before picking up her own spoon. There was a time when she would have ploughed into her treat with the same gusto as the filly beside her. She hesitated, spoon raised. A husky alto echoed through her mind, warning her to take things slow or she would get –
“Aah!” Sweetie Belle dropped her spoon and pressed a hoof against one eye.
“Brain freeze.” Lyra finished the thought aloud. “Don’t you know you can’t eat ice-cream too fast or that’ll happen?”
Sweetie Belle whimpered.
Lyra reached out with her telekinesis and whipped a mug of hot chocolate off the tea trolley. Mrs. Cake made a noise like she had been stuck with a pin as it zipped past her head. It alighted on their table.
“Sorry, Mrs Cake!” Lyra called. “Ice cream headache emergency! I’ll pay for this one and a new one for whoever ordered it.” Using her telekinesis to blow steam off the hot liquid, she told Sweetie Belle, “Sip this. Don’t gulp it or you’ll burn your tongue, and if you have brain freeze and a burnt tongue simultaneously … well, I don’t know for sure what’ll happen, but it’s entirely possible the two will interact and your head will explode.”
“What!?” Sweetie Belle squeaked in terror. “That can happen!?”
“Pffft, no,” Lyra sniggered. “But sip is slow anyhow.”
Sweetie Belle did so, eyes watering. Eventually she stopped looking like she was about to cry and Lyra released her magic. The mug rested snugly in the filly’s tiny hooves, over half its contents gone.
“Better?”
Sweetie Bell nodded mutely. Lyra leaned back and attended to her own milkshake. She licked off the melting whipped cream and poked experimentally at the mint ice-cream, watching the lump bob up and down. It reminded her of a buoy in rough seas. She and Bon-Bon had planned to go out to the coast in the summer to visit Lyra’s relatives on the off-shore islands. Lyra hadn’t seen any of her great-aunts or uncles since she was a foal and had been looking forward to seeing them again.
“Thanks,” Sweetie Belle croaked.
“For what? Stealing somepony else’s drink?” Lyra snorted. She poked again at her own, taking great delight in the way some slopped over the side. Minty drips raced each other down the outside of the glass. “Say, Sweetie Belle, what made you want to spend your day with me, of all ponies? Surely you have more than just two friends you could hang out with.”
At once, Sweetie Bell dropped her gaze. Lyra heard that husky voice in her head again, reprimanding her for being so insensitive. She remembered being the loner in school; the pony whose jokes went just a bit too far and whose laughter was always a tiny bit shriller than her audience’s.
Don’t go there, Lyra, said the voice. You’re not that pony anymore. You grew up.
“Aw, ponyfeathers, kiddo, I’m sorry –”
“No, it’s okay,” Sweetie Belle interrupted. “I just saw you there in the street and I thought … well, I thought about how much fun I had during our lesson and … um … well, I just thought it’d be cool to spend time with you!”
Lyra caught the moment she stopped herself from saying something. A feeling went up her spine; not a shiver but something else, like the tip of a hoof running over each vertebra without actually touching them. She shuddered and rolled her neck.
Aw nutbunnies, am I a charity case to a freaking filly? Another thought occurred to her. Ponies could get entirely the wrong idea from this situation.
“Do you … do you want me to leave you alone?” Sweetie Belle asked hesitantly.
“Huh? Uh, no, no, it’s fine. I was just curious, is all. Your sister doesn’t seem to like me much so I wondered whether she’d approve of you hanging out with me.” She swallowed. “Plus, Sweetie Belle, I’m an adult. You’re a foal. You should be hanging out with fillies and colts your own ag-.”
“Oh, it’s not that she doesn’t like you,” Sweetie Belle said blithely. “She thinks you’re really brave, actually, but she said she’s not sure what to say to you and she worried all the way from Carousel Boutique to Music Makers that she was going to put her hoof in it and say something …” She caught Lyra’s eye. Her words faltered. “Uh, something … wrong.”
“Brave?” Lyra echoed in surprise. “Me? Your sister has battled Nightmare Moon, Discord, King Sombra and a pack of diamond dogs. I heard she once kicked a manticore in the face! And she thinks I’m brave?”
“Um …” Discomfort showed clearly in Sweetie Belle’s expression. “Well, uh, that’s what she said. Only I don’t think I was supposed to tell you,” she added in a whisper.
“Why not? That’s a real compliment, coming from her. Sweet Celestia, she thinks I’m brave? How weird is –“
A blur of pink appeared at the end of their table.
“– that? Whoa!”
Sweetie Belle squeaked in alarm. Lyra fell sideways, sprawled across the booth. There were few ways to look cool when Pinkie Pie was in a whimsical mood. Judging by her face, right now she had whimsy drawn, cocked and ready to shoot.
“Hiiiii guuuuuys!” Pinkie warbled. “I hear you two are in the market for some scrummy, nummy, yummy freshly baked muffins?”
Sweetie Belle wiped chocolate milk from her face and chest. “We sure are. Hi Pinkie!”
“Ooh, Sweetie Belle!” Pinkie swept her into a bone-crushing hug, pulling her right out of the booth and then plopping her back again. “With … Lyra? What are you doing here?”
“Trying not to pass out from shock.” Lyra pulled herself back into a sitting position. “Don’t do that!”
“Do what?”
“Jumping out and scaring ponies. It’s dangerous.”
“No it’s not!” Pinkie laughed. “It’s fun!”
Pinkie rose onto her hind legs and spun in place. As if from nowhere she produced two plates, each piled high with muffins. Before either Lyra or Sweetie Belle could say anything, she hopped up and down, revealing one hind leg lifted behind her, also carrying a plate of muffins. In a thoroughly acrobatic move, Pinkie slid this plate onto the table and turned to present the first two like a medieval pony presenting an offering to Princess Celestia.
“Triple chocolate,” Pinkie announced, nodding at the third plate. She held out the plate on her right hoof, then the one on her left. “Blueberry. Raspberry. Take your pick, girls. These are on the house!”
“Really?” Sweetie Belle’s eyes shone.
Lyra was suspicious. “Why?”
“Why not? It’s a beautiful day, the birds are singing, the sun is shining and I’m feeling generous.”
“Does Mrs. Cake know you’re being this generous?”
“She should. It was her idea.”
Lyra’s face darkened. She glanced at the door to the kitchen where Mrs Cake was just ducking out of view. Given that she trusted Pinkie with her children, much less waitressing in her café, Lyra knew it wasn’t Pinkie’s competence she had been watching.
She got to her hooves and squeezed her way out of the booth.
“Lyra?” Sweetie Belle tried to follow, bouncing her little butt along the squeaky plastic back of the booth. She looked plaintively at the plates of muffins and her chocolate milkshake. “You left your – hey! Hey, wait! Where are you going?”
Lyra stalked out, deaf to the little filly’s cries.
Sweetie Belle’s lip quivered. “Did I do something wrong?”
Pinkie deposited the two remaining muffin plates on the table and wrapped a foreleg around her. “It’s nothing you did. Lyra just has a lot on her mind right now.”
“I know. That was why I offered to spend the day with her.”
Sweetie Belle thought back to the lonely figure at the mailbox, poised with her hoof raised like a statue for several long seconds before she had approached. At first she had thought Lyra was asleep but that had not been the case. Sweetie Belle remembered overhearing Rarity talking to Twilight over tea about how Lyra was being so brave and about the ruckus last month that had made everypony start acting so weird around her. Sweetie Belle had actually been a little fearful when Rarity told her she had enrolled her in a tutoring programme at Music Makers. Yet Lyra had proven so fun and entertaining to be around that it was almost worth missing time at the clubhouse with Apple Bloom and Scootaloo.
At least, until now.
Sweetie Belle’s head drooped. “Maybe she just didn’t want to spend time with a silly little filly.”
Pinkie hugged her tight. “Now that really is a silly thing to say! You’re awesome, Sweetie Belle. The awesomest, awesomely awesome filly who ever awesomed!”
Sweetie Belle giggled softly. It was hard to stay sad when Pinkie was around. Nonetheless, she craned her neck to look through the big window at the front of Sugarcube Corner and watched the slowly shrinking figure already halfway down the street.
My dearest Bon-Bon,
I did an awful thing today. You would have been ashamed of me. Seriously, you’d want to pop me on the nose if you were a violent mare. Which you aren’t. Which I guess is good for me because. Heck, I wanted to pop me on the nose today.
I was sharing milkshakes with Sweetie Belle at Sugarcube Corner when I zoned out and just left her there. I just walked out. I didn’t mean to. I don’t really remember doing it. I want to go apologise but I’m scared Rarity will rip me a new one for hurting her sister’s feelings. I just got so mad all of a sudden that I couldn’t think properly. Next thing I knew I was home and here at the desk in the study, ready to start this letter.
That means I zoned out twice today, maybe even three times. It scares me a little, losing touch with reality like that, but what can I do? I can’t help it when I get mad or sad or whatever. I don’t even know what causes them. I just have to hope I don’t zone out when I’m in the middle of tutoring session or something. I already forgot to go to the supermarket again today so I don’t have much food in the house. For dinner I’m stuck with a packet of dried rice I found in the back of the cupboard. I think you bought it last Winter when we were worried we’d get snowed in and you stocked the kitchen with cans and freeze-dried food.
Sweetie Belle asked me how I got my cutie mark. I told her, but while I was telling her I was actually thinking about the story you told me of how you got yours. There aren’t any other lyrists in my family so I don’t know what it’s like to have the same cutie mark as a relative. You and your Nonna are lucky to have something special like that. I hope your mom finally realises how lucky she is to have a daughter like you and a mom like her before it’s too late.
All my love,
- Lyra
My darling Lyra.
When you first told me you were ‘zoning out’ I thought it was just stress from us being apart. You looked so sad when you waved me off at the station. When you cantered all the way to the end of the platform I thought you were going to fall off onto the tracks! Now I’m more worried about you than ever. I think you should see a doctor, sweetheart. Nonna agrees with me. This isn’t normal. You need to take care of it before it gets worse.
Personally, I think having a rare cutie mark like yours is tremendous. Wasn’t it your cutie mark that got me talking to you when I first arrived in Ponyville? Wow, can you believe that was six years ago now? When I took that first aid course for extra credit in high school I thought it would be useful but I never thought it would bring me my very special somepony. I was hugging you in a Heimlich before I even knew your name! It probably says a lot about us that the first exchange we ever had was me being curious about your butt and you choking on your own gum.
I am shaking my head and smiling right now. This is something you need to know.
Go to the doctor, Lyra. Get yourself checked out. Apologise to Sweetie Belle if you feel bad about what happened. It might not seem like much to somepony else but you have a soft heart under all that bravado. You know it’ll bother you if you don’t. Rarity is generous enough to let you say your piece without kicking you out.
You know I will always love you.
- Bon-Bon
Rarity was shocked to see not a customer, as she had expected, but a penitent Lyra on her doorstep.
“I-Is Sweetie Belle around?”
Rarity’s spine stiffened. “No, as it happens. Can I help you?” The question came out icy. Lyra shrank back, which surprised Rarity. Lyra had never been a pony to shrink from a few harsh words. As Rarity recalled, more than once she had slung even harsher words right back at ponies who had insulted her or …
“Rarity, can I get down yet?”
She looked over her shoulder. “Soon, Fluttershy. I’m almost done.”
Fluttershy stood on her hind legs, forelegs outstretched, her whole body wreathed in glittering jewels and gossamer fabric. “This outfit looks really beautiful already.”
“Sapphire Shores does not need simply ‘beautiful’. She requires stage costumes that are outstanding, dazzling, stupendous and even divine. And she needs six more of them so I’m afraid I require your modelling services for a while longer, darling.”
Lyra flinched at the word ‘darling’. “Can … can I help? I mean, if Flutters here has had enough, I could … take her place … for a little while?” Each segment of her sentence curled upwards, as if she suspected she was about to be tossed out on her rear at any moment.
“Oh, would you?” Fluttershy broke into a smile that brightened the room as much as the jewels. “That would be really helpful. I need to get home and feed my animals. I’m already late but I didn’t like to say …”
“Fluttershy, you should have told me!” Rarity exclaimed. “You must go and tend to the poor dears immediately!”
“B-But this outfit –”
“Can wait. I won’t be able to concentrate when I know that the menagerie of yours is starving so that I could sew on a few extra diamonds. Go, go, go, go and go!”
Fluttershy carefully stripped off the dress and draped it on the hanger Rarity levitated in front of her. She stepped down from the raised platform and almost galloped for the open door. “Thanks again, Lyra. I really appreciate this.”
“No problem,” Lyra replied uncertainly. When Fluttershy had gone she looked at the platform, the dress, and then at Rarity herself. “So, uh … what do you need me to do?”
“Just there. Right there! Now hold absolutely still or I might accidentally stick you.”
Sweetie Belle could barely believe it when she came home to find Lyra in the middle of Carousel Boutique, dressed in the showiest catsuit she had ever laid eyes on. Rarity’s flair showed in every sparkling inch, including the ones that hung over the ends of Lyra’s hooves.
“Sapphire Shores hash longer legsh dan most poniesh, vough her body shape ish shtill shlender,” Rarity muttered through a mouthful of pins. “I really need a model wish long legsh to tesht the width and give of theesh shleeves. “ She spat out the pins into a waiting lobule of telekinesis. “But honestly, where is one to find a tall, elegant pony like that in Ponyville? Everypony here is either too short, too pudgy, too muscled or too –”
“Rainbow Dash is really elegant!” Scootaloo interrupted.
Rarity looked up so fast that her eyes bulged. “Sweetie Belle! You’re home!” She coughed delicately into one hoof. “And you brought your friends. How … lovely.”
Lyra tried to wave without moving position. “Hi, Sweetie Belle. Hi, Sweetie Belle’s friends.”
“Hi there, Miss Heartstrings.” Apple Bloom waved back much more energetically. “You look mighty pretty in that there … romper suit?”
“It’s a catsuit,” Rarity corrected primly. “Romper suits are for new-born foals.”
“Well, whatever it’s called, I think it’s mighty pretty.”
“Thanks,” said Lyra. “I’d say it was pretty too, if I didn’t have to wear it. This thing weighs a ton!”
“Good quality stones tend towards the weighty side of the scale,” said Rarity. “One must make sacrifices for fashion.”
“Yeah, like an intact spine,” Lyra muttered.
Scootaloo snickered. Sweetie Belle stepped in front of her to hide her from Rarity’s imperious gaze. “It’s brilliant, sis; your best design yet. Sapphire Shores will love it!”
Rarity eyed the catsuit critically. Her hair was dishevelled, the way it only got when she was too busy working to realise she looked like she had been dragged through a hedge backwards. “You really think so?”
Despite her pride and tough exterior, Sweetie Belle knew that her sister remained insecure about her designs. As with all creative types, Rarity was her own worst critic and constantly saw flaws where others saw only perfection. She was never quite satisfied with what she created and saw each finished piece as a stepping stone in a learning curve she had been on for years – and would continue to be on for many more. This constant striving for excellence and refusal to settle for less was what made Rarity such a fashion dynamo – and what also threatened to wreck it all for her if she let it.
Sweetie Belle trotted up nuzzled against her sister. “I know she’ll love them. Doesn’t she always? This is the third collection you’ve made for her, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Rarity said speculatively. “It is.”
“So she must think your work is wonderful if she keeps coming back to you instead of those fancy designers in Canterlot or Manehattan.”
“Thank you, Sweetie.” Rarity pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Are your friends staying for dinner?”
Apple Bloom and Scootaloo shook their heads. Scootaloo even looked a little sick. Rarity was a fabulous designer but a menace in the kitchen. She was the only pony who needed to look up the recipe for ice-cubes and had burnt soup so badly she had nearly set the stove ablaze.
“Uh, no, not tonight,” Sweetie Belle replied.
Rarity sighed. “I suppose I’d better let you go too, Lyra, though you’ve made a surprisingly first-rate model. You barely moved at all.”
Lyra chuckled nervously. “I, uh, zoned out for a while in the middle. It was like I wasn’t even here.”
“A trick I wish you would teach some of my other friends when they do this for me.” Rarity sighed. “Fluttershy is the best at it. Applejack is fidgeter and I only ever asked Rainbow Dash once. Never again.” She closed her eyes at the memory. “Never, ever again. And as for Pinkie Pie! It was like trying to hold shut a bag of hyperactive ferrets!”
Sweetie Belle giggled. Lyra managed a chuckle as she peeled off the catsuit. It jingled like a pocketful of money as it slipped onto its hangar and joined the other four on the rail.”
“Just one more outfit,” Rarity said firmly. “Twilight is coming over tomorrow to help me with inventory. She has excellent posture so –”
“Uh, Rarity? Can I talk to Sweetie Belle for a second?” Lyra broke in.
Rarity blinked. “Oh, yes. Right. Of course. Er, by all means.” She trotted away, ostensibly to sort spools of thread into the drawers of an ornate cabinet, though her ears kept flicking in their direction.
“I guess we’ll see you tomorrow, Sweetie Belle,” called Apple Bloom. “G’bye!”
“Bye, Sweetie!” Scootaloo was already halfway down the path, heading for her scooter.
“Bye, guys!” Sweetie Belle waved furiously even though they were no longer looking.
She was so glad that gaining a cutie mark before them had not dented their friendship. She had worried that without that common goal they might drift apart, yet her success had actually brought them closer together.
Pushing her friendship with them from her mind for now, Sweetie Belle swallowed and took a steadying breath before turning to face Lyra. “Um, what did you want to talk to me about?”
“I wanted to apologise,” Lyra said quickly. She spoke as it she had lined all her words up in her head and was firing them off in rapid succession before she lost her nerve. “For leaving you in Sugarcube Corner yesterday. I was a heel and I’m sorry. I had my reasons but they weren’t good ones and definitely weren’t good enough to get me off the hook for abandoning you without warning like that.”
“You don’t need to apologise to me,” Sweetie Belle replied just as quickly, in case there wasn’t another break in Lyra’s diatribe for her to speak. “You were distracted. Rarity gets distracted and ignores me all the time but I never take it personally.” She shrugged, hoping she communicated unconcerned forgiveness and not the glee that was actually bubbling inside her. An adult pony apologising to her like an equal? She felt as grown up as she had when she had looked at her flank and seen something other than white.
Lyra looked genuinely relieved. “Ain’t that the truth? So you’re not mad at me?”
“No.”
“And you don’t want to cancel your singing lessons?”
“Definitely not!” Sweetie Belle exclaimed. “In fact, I’ve been practising my scales, just like you said to.” She cleared her throat. “Doh, ray, mi, fah, so, la, ti, doh!”
“Excellent!” Lyra laughed. “Pitch perfect, as always. You’ve got a great pair of lungs on you, kiddo. Who knows? Maybe you’re the next Sapphire Shores and your sister will be designing stage costumes for you someday.”
Sweetie Belle flushed. “Aw, I’d never be that good.”
“Don’t undersell yourself, darling,” Rarity called across the room. “You have real talent.”
“Rarity! This is a private conversation!”
“Whoops. Sorry! Just pretend I’m not here.”
“Actually, I do have to go home now,” said Lyra. “My legs are aching from all that standing around. All I want is to go to bed and sleep for a while. How the hay does that Fleur de Lis mare do this sort of work? I have a new respect for models.” She pulled a face. “Or I would if they started eating properly and stopped looking like underfed antelopes.”
Sweetie Belle giggled. Even Rarity hid a titter behind one hoof.
“Bye, Lyra, and thanks for coming to apologise. You didn’t need to, but it was nice all the same.”
Lyra smiled and trotted out of the boutique, leaving one very buoyant filly in her wake.
My dearest Bon-Bon,
Well, I did it. You were right. I feel so much better now. I guess most ponies would think that apologising to a filly less than half their age is ridiculous, but frankly they can all go take a long walk off a shier pier. When I saw Sweetie Belle smile I knew I’d done the right thing. I guess I really hurt her when I walked out like that. Her parents aren’t exactly the most attentive in the world, since she spends so much time staying at her sister’s. Maybe that’s why they’re so close. Maybe being neglected by one part of your family makes the bond with another part stronger.
What am I writing that for? Sorry, love, I know that’s a sore spot for you and there I go putting my big fat hoof in it. You and your Nonna are so close because of what happened with your folks. I hope Sweetie Belle’s mom and dad don’t do like yours did, though I can’t imagine they would. I met her dad once when he came into Music Makers to get his pal’s violin retuned. He seemed a nice enough guy, if a little too easily side-tracked. Her mom works in Kool Kutz, the manedressers’ in town. Everypony says she’s a terrible gossip but doesn’t have a malicious bone in her body. You never know what’s going on behind closed doors, though, do you? Everypony thought your mom and dad were real family ponies too.
Still, there was a silver lining to that cloud. If they hadn’t done what they did, you would never have come to Ponyville, and if you have never come to Ponyville we never would have met, and that would just be tragic.
I forgot to go to the supermarket again today. I played clothes horse for Rarity instead while I was waiting for Sweetie Belle to come home. Rarity’s not actually all that bad. She’s pretty insecure about her job and her business, which I guess I can understand. It’s not easy making your way in the world when things seem stacked against you. You should hear how she talks about the snooty Canterlot ponies she keeps trying to sell her clothes to. She makes them sound like they leave gold hoofsteps wherever they walk, but if you listen between the lines, they’re actually a bunch of stuck-up nags! Fancy Pants and his fillyfriend sound like the best of the bunch but that’s not saying much. I got so mad on Rarity’s behalf that I lost myself again for a while.
Before you ask, no, I didn’t go to the doctor today. I wanted to say sorry to Sweetie Belle and afterwards there wasn’t time. I’ll go tomorrow though. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.
All my love and a little bit more,
- Lyra
Darling Lyra.
How can I help but worry when you tell me you’re sick? This ‘zoning out’ thing isn’t normal, Lyra. You have to make the time to get some help. Do it for me, if not yourself. Promise me that you will go see the doctor ASAP – and no putting it off like you did about the dentist. Remember what happened that time? I would have thought a root canal was enough to teach anypony the importance of not procrastinating.
Don’t feel bad about mentioning my parents. I said when I left Ponyville that I had a good feeling about this trip, didn’t I? It’s a shame that it took Nonna having a stroke to bring me back here and force us all to see each other again, but if we’re talking about silver linings then this must be one too. How can my parents and I ever be reconciled if we never see each other?
I like to think they didn’t just stop loving me when I told them I like mares instead of stallions. We were never what you’d call ‘close’ but they did the best they could while I was growing up. Nonna gave me all the hugs I could ever ask for. She took care of me when I was sick, read me stories, slipped little treats into my lunch bag and things like that, while my parents made sure I had a good education so I could make something of myself someday. I doubt travelling halfway across the country and using my trust fund to buy a candy shop in a little podunk town was what they had in mind, but that’s not the point. Like Nonna said when I left, you have to follow your heart or it will never be allowed to grow to the size it should be so it can beat properly.
Maybe someday I’ll be proved right and they’ll show that they still love me after all. Maybe someday we’ll all be one big happy family again and you can come and meet them. I’d love for you to see Manehattan. You’d love the theatre district – there are always lots of musicals – and the restaurants here beat my cooking into the ground.
You made my heart grow and make it beat properly, love. I want you to know that every day it goes on beating is because of you; because how much I love you and how much you love me.
All my love and a lot more,
- Your Bon-Bon
Noteworthy watched Rarity collect her little sister. Both were smiling. Lyra wrote the request for a fourth lesson In the big black appointment book, waved them goodbye and then fell against the front desk, sighing happily.
“Good lesson?”
“The best. I could really get used to this whole teaching thing. Maybe I should jack in working here and go offer my services to Ms. Cheerilee instead.”
Noteworthy smiled. It was so good to hear Lyra laugh. He knew it was good. She was doing so well recently, always happy and never letting things get her down. The fact that she never mentioned certain things didn’t worry him too much. When he first came home from Canterlot with his tail between his legs, having failed to make a splash in its eminent jazz scene, he had hated talking about his experiences too. It had taken months for him to take what remained of his savings and invest them in a small music store instead of the Canterlot bistro he had imagined in the pipe dreams of his colthood. Things had worked out for the best in the end though. He liked to think it would be the same for Lyra.
Suddenly Lyra stood up straight, her posture stiff. She was looking at the clock on the wall. “Hey, Boss Pony, can I take my lunch break now?”
“Sure.” He waved her away. “Go stuff your face.”
“I resent that remark!” She grabbed her saddlebags and coat from her peg and dashing away before he could respond.
She couldn’t believe she had forgotten. She had to make it on time. She had to!
Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!
Lyra’s hooves clattered along the icy street. She skidded around the corner of Acacia Avenue. Her eyes found the familiar shape in the distance. She went so fast it was as if she had learned to teleport in the last ten minutes and was crossed the distance with magic instead of muscles.
“Whoa!” she cried out as she hit a particularly slick patch of ice. Her left forehoof shot right while her right hoof shot left, toppling her onto her nose. Her chin met frozen asphalt and she travelled the last few feet on her face. When she got up her lip stung and her teeth ached from where they had clacked together. None of that mattered, however.
Did I make it in time?
“Oh my goodness!”
She ignored the voice. If the engraved pony was upright on top of the mailbox, that meant the mail had not yet been collected. If it was upside down it meant the next collection would not come until tomorrow.
“Lyra, you’re bleeding!”
Her stomach sank. The pony was flying upside down. Sagging in disappointment and self-recrimination, she hung her head and butted the mailbox. Snow flaked off the top and landed between her ears.
“Are you okay? Did you break something? That was a nasty fall! Lyra? Lyra?”
“Hmm?” Lyra looked up when someone touched her flank just below where her winter coat ended. “Oh. Hi, Twilight. How’s it shaking?”
Twilight Sparkle’s brows pulled together. “Lyra, you’re bleeding from your mouth.”
“I am?” Lyra swallowed. She tasted the coppery tang of blood. “Oh. I guess I am. I must have bitten my lip.” She looked down. A thin smear of blood marked the progress of her face on the ground.
“You might have a concussion! You should see a doctor.”
Lyra immediately backed away. “No! No doctors.”
Twilight looked startled at her vehemence. “Uh … ohhhhkay. No doctor. But will you at least come into the library so I can check you over? I’ve read some books about medicine. I think I can ascertain whether or not you’re concussed, at least.”
For the first time Lyra realised that the door to Golden Oaks Library was swinging wide, as if somepony had burst through and not bothered to close it behind her. A recognisable purple head kept peering around the edge and then ducking out of sight, as if the blast of cold from outside actually hurt him.
Well, he is cold-blooded, said the husky alto.
“Lyra?” Twilight asked in obvious concern.
Lyra sighed. “Yeah, I guess I can do that. Just … let me mail this letter first.” Although it didn’t matter. It was ruined. It would be all wrong today and all wrong tomorrow. Her routine had been thrown out of whack, all because she had been thinking about her tutoring session instead of remembering to call past the mailbox on her way to work.
She had promised. They had promised. And now she had broken that promise. She stared at the ground, mind thrumming. She stared so hard that the edges of her vision started to fringe black and waver like heat haze.
Stupid, stupid, stupid…
“There’s something not right with her.”
Standing on a stepladder to better reach a saucepan of soup, Spike shrugged. “Well that’s obvious.”
“No, I mean more than usual.” Twilight frowned. She had been as shocked and horrified as everypony else last month but she had expected … what? She wasn’t sure how ponies were meant to react in this kind of situation. She had read books in anticipation of the day when she might have to go through it herself but there were so many conflicting theories that it was hard to narrow things down to a singular, fluid model. The message Twilight had gleaned from her research was that every pony was different and it was illogical to assume one would act the same as another. In hindsight, this was an embarrassing conclusion to reach. She could have worked that much out on her own without the need for case studies or citations.
Spike tasted the soup, shook his head and added another clawful of herbs. “Twilight, it’s none of our business.”
“I thought friendship was about being there for others even when they don’t want it. Isn’t that what motivated you to dedicate all that time to honouring your Dragon Code with Applejack?”
Spike’s cheeks coloured ever so slightly. “Well … yeah, I guess so. But remember what happened when you guys meddled with that? Applejack nearly got eaten by a timber wolf!”
Twilight was forced to admit that meddling in that instance had, indeed, not been the best course of action. Yet this time she felt sure she was not supposed to just leave things alone. Something was wrong with Lyra Heartstrings. Twilight leaned back to look into the sitting room. Lyra remained exactly where she had been; on the couch, staring into space, a mug of sweetened tea clasped between her forehooves. As far as Twilight could tell, Lyra had not even sipped it.
Twilight had never been as close with Lyra as with others in Ponyville. She was a passing acquaintance; somepony you could nod at in the street but not strike up an idle conversation with. Yet Twilight knew enough about Lyra to also know that this sort of behaviour wasn’t normal. She had cleaned up Lyra’s cut lip using the library medical kit, confirmed that she had a concussion and suggested that some lunch and company might make her feel better. Lyra had neither nodded nor shaken her head. She hadn’t uttered a single word since Twilight led her away from the mailbox.
“Twilight. Hey, Twilight!” Spike called.
“Huh?”
He gestured. “Can you pass me the bowls? Remember we need three, not two like usual.”
Twilight dutifully levitated three deep bowls out of the china cabinet and held them for Spike to ladle soup into. When he was done she brought a tray to sit beneath the bowls, summoned spoons from the cutlery drawer and waited for Spike to descend the stepladder. Together, they re-entered the sitting room.
“Grub’s up!” Spike announced. “Tomato and rosemary soup with wholemeal bread rolls.” He set down the basket of bread he had been carrying and backed off a few steps, watching Lyra’s response.
It was less than encouraging. Lyra slowly swivelled her head and looked blankly at the soup. Her eyes dithered from side to side for a moment. Spike waved a claw in front of her face but she only blinked, not following its progress from left right and back again.
Twilight and Spike retreated to the kitchen under the guise of fetching the bread.
“See what I mean?” Twilight tried not to sound triumphant. One should never take even the smallest victory in somepony else’s misfortune, even if it did prove you were right. “Something’s not right.”
“Maybe … maybe we should call the doctor out here,” Spike said uncertainly.
“No doctors!” yelped a voice behind them.
“Lyra!” Twilight caught Spike before he fell over. She cradled the bread basket in her magic and turned around. “You’re back.”
“Huh?” Lyra looked at her. More of her was behind her eyes than before. The difference was startling. “Back? I didn’t go any … where …” She looked around. “I’m in the library. Why am I in the library?”
“I brought you inside after you fell over on the ice. Don’t you remember?”
“Um …” Lyra gingerly touched her lip. She squinted, as if trying to access a long forgotten memory. “Oh, uh, yeah! I remember,” she said unconvincingly.
“Lyra.” Twilight stepped towards her, keeping her tone low and coaxing. She didn’t understand what was wrong with the other unicorn but she did grasp that spooking her was not a good idea. “I think there may be something wrong with you. You’re not acting like yourself.”
Lyra shook her head as if to clear it. “There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m fine. I … I need to get back to work. Boss Pony will be wondering where I am. What time is it? Did I go over my allotted hour?”
“Lyra –”
“I … need to go.” Lyra stumbled to the door.
Both Twilight and Spike flinched at the blast of cold air that whistled inside when Lyra wrenched the door wide. She only managed to wrestle the top half open.
“Lyra, wait!”
Lyra’s movements were jerky and frantic. When struggling with the bottom half did not open it, she backed up a few steps and jumped over. Her left hind hoof caught the edge, throwing her off balance. She struck the floor outside heavily, yet by the time they reached the door, she was already cantering away.
Twilight turned to Spike. “You can’t tell me that’s ignorable behaviour.”
Spike bit his lip. “I guess not.”
My dearest Bon-Bon.
I ruined it. I ruined it. I ruined it. I ruined it. I ruined it.
- Lyra
Darling Lyra.
Ruined what?
Love from,
- Bon-Bon
My dearest Bon-Bon.
It. This. You. Us. Everything. I can’t keep doing this. I need you here. I’m scared, Bon-Bon. I’m really scared. Why are you there instead of here with me?
- Lyra
Twilight cantered along the icy street, fixated on the store with the swinging saxophone sign out front. The large blue stallion at the front desk looked up in surprise when she burst in, breathing hard and with a half-frozen baby dragon clinging to her back.
“Where’s … Lyra?”
“Lyra?” His ears flicked forward. “On her lunch break. If you want to wait for her, you’re welcome to. Is something wrong?”
“I’ll say.” Spike extracted his claws from where he had wrapped them in Twilight’s mane to keep from falling off. “And the wrong is with her!”
“Huh?”
“Something’s wrong with Lyra?” said a tremulous voice. Twilight whirled to find Sweetie Belle and Rarity less than a foot away.
“We left Sweetie’s scarf behind after her lesson,” said Rarity. “We were just coming back to fetch it.”
“Is something wrong with Lyra?” Sweetie Belle crossed the distance between them and placed her forehooves on Twilight’s chest. “Twilight?”
“I … I’m not sure,” Twilight admitted, not wanting to alarm the young filly. “But we should find her, just in case. She took a bump to the head earlier and, well …”
“Started acting really weird,” Spike finished.
The blue stallion came out from behind the desk. “She got hurt? Then we definitely need to find her. Minuette!” he called at a volume that made everyone present cover their ears. His ears flattened at their reaction. “Sorry.”
“Yes, Noteworthy?” Minuette appeared in the doorway behind the desk. She blinked at the array of ponies clogging the front of the store. “Oh! Is everything all right?”
“Not really. We’re going to look for Lyra. Mind the store for me until we come back.”
“Lyra?” If his ears had flattened, Minuette’s tried to reach her brain by forcing themselves right through her skull. “What’s happened to her?”
“Nothing but a bump on the head,” he reassured.
“This is a lot of ponies for just a bump on the head.”
“C’mon!” Sweetie Belle dashed down the street, doubled back and dashed towards them again, jiggling from foot to foot. “If Lyra’s hurt, we’ve got to find her!”
“Noteworthy, wait.” Minuette caught his tail in her hoof and tugged him backwards. Twilight slowed to listen to what they were saying. These two ponies probably knew Lyra better than any of them. She worked with them every day, after all. They had seen her over the whole of the last month. They would know whether what Twilight thought of as odd behaviour actually was out of the ordinary or not.
“What is it, Minnie?”
Minuette chewed her lip for a moment before speaking. “Do you think … do you think she might … hurt herself?”
It took a second for Noteworthy to answer. “I … no. no, I’m, sure that’s not a possibility. It’s just a bump on the head, that’s all.”
“She hasn’t been herself lately. You know it and I know it. All those times she was just … not there when we talked to her. And those mood swings – Noteworthy, she hasn’t been right since …” Minuette trailed off.
“I know, Minnie,” Noteworthy said softly. “I was just … hoping it would go away on its own, so I … ignored it. That was stupid of me.” He snorted. “I’m supposed to be her friend, not just her boss. I should have made her talk about it or … something. I don’t know. More than just accepted it at face value when she said she was fine and wanted to come back to work. I should have sat her down and talked to her but I just shoved students at her as a distraction so neither of us would have to talk about it. Now I’ve got to fix it. I have to help find her and get this sorted once and for all, Minnie.”
Minuette released him and stepped away. “Check their house,” she said, voice rough as sandpaper. “Maybe she went home.”
Bon-Bon.
I need to see you. I can’t stay here. I’m coming to you. I’m coming right now. By the time you get this letter I may even already be with you. Then we can laugh about how stupid I’m being and everything can go back to normal.
I need you, love. I need you now.
- Lyra
“Lyra? Lyra, are you there?” Sweetie Belle pressed her hooves against the windowsill, trying to peer through the frosty glass. “I don’t see anypony but it’s dark inside. I think the curtains are drawn.”
Noteworthy rattled the door. “It’s locked. Maybe we were wrong and she isn’t here.”
“Does she keep a key under the welcome mat?” Rarity suggested. “We should check inside, just in case.”
“We can’t just break into her house!” Spike exclaimed. “That’s, like, a crime!”
“We’re not planning to steal anything, Spike,” said twilight. “We’re just worried about her. The authorities will understand. Subsection B of a Volume Twelve of the Equestrian Mandate of Rights says that one may enter a building without permission if there is reasonable belief that the pony or ponies within may have caused themselves bodily harm or be at risk of causing themselves bodily harm.”
“What?” Sweetie Belle’s hooves slithered off the sill.
“We’re not saying Lyra has done any such thing, darling,” Rarity assured her. “We’re simply taking precautions. Did anyone check under the mat?”
“Nothing.” Noteworthy let it flip back into place. He turned around, braced his forelegs and bucked out with his powerful hindquarters. The door flew inward, cracking a little. “Whoops. Uh, I’ll buy her a new front door.”
“You should talk to Applejack,” said Spike. “She could use you during applebucking season.”
“Lyra? Lyra, are you in here?” Sweetie Belle slipped beneath Noteworthy’s massive frame to sprint inside.
“Sweetie, no!” Rarity yelped. “Oh my goodness, if Lyra really has done something awful and Sweetie sees it … Sweetie Belle, come back!” She dashed after her sister without a second thought.
Noteworthy was right behind her.
“Come on.” Twilight waited for Spike to climb aboard and went in too.
The house smelled musty and stale, as if the windows had not been opened in a long while. All the lights were off, which made it difficult to see even with slivers of daylight peeping past the edges of the curtains. Twilight slowed her pace. She stepped over discarded food cans and microwave meal containers in the dimness. Her left forehoof caught the edge of something that tumbled over with a loud crash. She ignited her horn but before she could inspect what it was she heard Rarity calling.
“Twilight? I-I think you’d better come in here.”
Fearing the worst, Twilight followed Rarity’s voice to the bottom of the staircase. With every step she climbed, a sense of dread coalesced in her stomach. Her ears pricked for clues of what awaited her at the top. As she crested the top step, the sound of Sweetie Belle’s whimpers reached her. Her stomach dropped into her hooves like a crumbling stone.
“In here, darling,” Rarity called, her tone strained.
They were in the bedroom. The curtains had been pulled back to reveal a flowery motif and tasteful wooden furniture. The effect was spoiled by a bunch of dead roses in a vase on the dresser. Winter clothing was strewn across the bed, chair and floor, along with many pieces of balled up paper and envelopes. They were scattered across the floor as if they had been tossed there over somepony’s shoulder. A dresser draw hung nearly completely off its runners. More paper and envelopes lay inside it, these blank and unused. A quill and an overturned phial sat in the middle of the dresser amidst a pool of spreading ink. The ink was still fresh, as was the series of dark blue hoofprints left by whoever had knocked it over themselves. Whoever it was had not been gone long.
Rarity turned to Twilight. One of the scattered papers hovered before her. “It’s a letter from Bon-Bon,” she whispered. “They’re all letters to or from Bon-Bon.”
Twilight’s chest constricted. She felt like she was committing the worst invasion of privacy. Immediately, she wanted to run downstairs, out of this house and back to her own. Something in the way Rarity announced this, however, made her pause and set her hooves.
“There’s something else,” Twilight said softly. “Isn’t there?”
Rarity levitated the letter directly under Twilight’s nose. “Look.”
Twilight speed-read the first few sentences, murmuring out oud: “Darling Lyra … Since when do you sign letters to me with your full name? I’m doing well and so is everypony else. Relations with my mother and father are still strained but I expected that. Not all bridges are rebuilt quickly – or especially soundly –”
“No,” said Rarity. She shook the letter. “The date.”
Twilight lifted her gaze to Rarity’s. “But … this is dated just last week.”
“They’re all dated within the past month. I haven’t read them all, obviously, but I’ve checked enough to tell that much. Also, look at the writing.” She gathered up several more sheets and brought them to Twilight for inspection. “It matches on every one.”
“Well it would if they’re all from the same pony –” Spike started.
“No, I mean it’s the same writing on all the letters – those to Lyra and from her as well.”
Realisation started to dawn. “I knew it,” said Twilight. “I knew something wasn’t right.”
“Oh my gosh!” Sweetie Belle’s cry surprised all three of them. She had slipped into the room without them noticing and now stood next to the dresser, the ink-stained piece of paper clutched in her hooves. She held up the few fresh lines written there. Some had been obscured by the spilled ink but enough were visible for them to produce a collective gasp that brought Noteworthy running from the next room.
Bon-Bon.
I need to see you. I can’t stay here. I’m coming to you. I’m coming right now.
“Rainbow Dash, will you quit lollygaggin’ an’ help me with this?”
Rainbow Dash snapped her head back to Applejack in surprise. “Huh?”
Applejack sighed. She pointed at the sack of apples on the cart. “Sack. You. Help.”
“Whatever happened to me resting?”
“Restin’ your wing,” Applejack corrected. “Ain’t nuthin’ wrong with the rest of you, otherwise you couldn’t never have given Apple Bloom the slip this mornin’ an’ gone cavortin’ in the South Orchard.”
“Cavortin’?” Rainbow Dash attempted Applejack’s accent, trying to decode the word.
“Yup. Cavortin’. Frolickin’. Caperin’. Gambollin’ like a new-born lamb that just gave Momma Sheep the slip.”
“Ohhh. Hey, I was not cavorting! I was practising my take-off run. I’m out of practise after a week on the ground.”
Applejack rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Point is, if you’re so full of energy, you can put it to good use by helpin’ me make deliveries. Now c’mon or Sugarcube Corner will be servin’ baked apple flans that only got two words of the name in ‘em.” When Rainbow Dash didn’t immediately jump to attention, she let out a sharp sigh and came to stand next to her. Absently she tugged down the vest Rainbow Dash had borrowed so that it covered her friend’s wings properly. “What the hay has you so fascinated you’re gawpin’ like a beached fish?”
Rainbow Dash either didn’t notice the rearranging of her vest or chose to ignore it. “I swear I just saw somepony run past the end of the street. It’s freezing out here but I don’t think she was even wearing a scarf!”
“It takes all sorts.” Applejack Turned back to the café.
At the counter, Pinkie Pie had spotted them. She couldn’t run outside because of a long line of ponies shaking off their winter chills with good food and her special brand of good cheer. Instead, Mr Cake flipped back the countertop and came to the door, opening it with a cheery jingle.
“Could you girls be real obliging and bring those around back?” he asked. Bits of his mane were working free from under his cap. He looked harried at the overabundance of customers.
“Sure thing, Mr Cake.” Applejack tipped her hat and made as if to reattach herself to the cart traces.
“Wonderful.” He disappeared back inside to handle the coffee maker before Pinkie could try her hoof at it. After a particularly disastrous incident when they first bought the thing, during which Pinkie had decided she needed to try every concoction the machine could come up with in order to best recommend them to customers, she was not allowed to work it anymore. A highly caffeinated party pony was fun only from a distance and while wearing proper safety gear.
“You heard the guy, Rainbow. Rainbow? Rainbow!”
Instead of responding, Rainbow Dash called, “Hey, Twilight!”
“Twilight?” Applejack echoed in surprise.
Sure enough, there was Twilight running towards them, Spike attached to her back like a barnacle on a ship. Neck-and-neck with her was a gigantic blue stallion. Applejack recognised his face but couldn’t name him. All three looked worried.
“Have you seen Lyra?” the stallion snorted as he skidded to a halt.
“Lyra?” Applejack blinked. “Y’mean Lyra Heartstrings? Not recently. Why?”
“Yeah,” Rainbow Dash interrupted. “She went by here just a few minutes ago. I thought it was weird how she wasn’t wearing a coat or scarf or anything, and she was running really, really fast. It was actually pretty impressive.”
“Which way did she go?” The big stallion stepped ominously towards her. “Quickly! Which way did she go?”
“Hey, back off, buddy!” Rainbow Dash squared her chest at him.
“Noteworthy, that’s not helping,” Twilight snapped. The hairs along Applejack’s spine began to rise. Twilight sounded panicked, and not just in the usual way. There was actual fear in her voice and in the way Spike was looking around as if for somepony who had been following them.
“Will somepony tell us what the hoo-haa is goin’ on here?” Applejack instinctively stepped between Rainbow Dash and the big stallion. She didn’t think they would actually resort to hooficuffs, but with Rainbow you could never be sure.
Twilight bit her lip and explained.
Ponyville Station was usually a hub of activity. The main transport to far-flung parts of Equestria and beyond, trains ran regularly and boasted that they were rarely ever late. The platform, as usual, acted as a stage for ponies to act out heartfelt farewells and equally heartfelt welcomes. Reunited families sprinted into each other’s embraces. Friends stuck their heads out of the train windows to wave. Hooves were shaken, bags were loaded, seats were found and the whistle pierced the air and the colossal stallions who pulled the train took their first laborious steps. Starting and stopping were always the hardest parts of their journey, but once they got going they were relentless in their ability to get their cargo where it needed to go, no matter what.
Even so, as the whistle sounded and they put their best hooves forward, they couldn’t help but look at each other and offer nods of encouragement. It was a new ritual but one that had quickly taken hold. Locomotive workers were tough, resilient ponies, but even they could be shaken and seek refuge in luck and the kind of reassurance not even Princess Celestia could give.
You couldn’t see the station from here. Lyra was glad for that. She slowed from a gallop to a canter and finally a trot. Her legs hurt. She was out of shape. Her muscles trembled when she finally stopped in the middle of the bridge.
She narrowed her eyes, trying to count windows on the distant train carriage. She had memorised how many it was from the back as it swept past her on the platform, but from the front … was it six or eight windows from the engine? She wished the pony sitting beside it would open it and give her a clue.
The world blurred at the edges.
She was running along the platform, slewing to a halt right before she would have careened off the end. She raised herself onto her hind legs so she could wave using both forelegs like a pair of frantic windmills.
“I’ll be back soon!” shouted Bon-Bon, waving just as furiously through her window. “Don’t mess up the house while I’m gone! And don’t just eat take-out! And remember to write to me! And –”
Her words were lost in the hiss of steam and the whistle of the train.
Lyra blinked back to herself, pushing aside the blackness fringing her vision. No, she couldn’t zone out now!
Focus, Lyra! Focus!
The whistle was real and growing louder. She could even hear the thunderous hoofsteps of the locomotive ponies. Flustered that she could be so stupid at such a crucial moment, she tried to count windows but had to give up. The train was moving too fast already and the angle was wrong for her to see from here.
She pulled herself onto the side of the bridge, flicked her tail for balance and jumped.
The world blurred into startled faces, rushing metal and smears of colour that refused to resolve into anything except –
Her mouth was full of smoke and ash. She was outside falling into it – no, she was inside, thudding from side to side as the carriage rolled. She hit the window, watched dazedly as the countryside seemed to upend itself and become a slot machine rotation of sky and tracks and sky and grass and sky and grass and sky and –
Then came the hideous squeal of twisting metal, the sickening lurch of realisation. Her legs pedalled empty air as gravity rejected her. For a moment she hung suspended, everything except her a whirr of colour and sound.
Screams. A metallic squeal. The jagged gleam of broken glass. Heat and light and noise and motion and then –
Something popped and sizzled beside Lyra. Hooves grasped hold of her, clutching indelicately at her mane and chest. The world blurred again, but this time it was accompanied by another pop and sizzle. Instead of returning to herself at her dresser with a quill in her hoof, Lyra landed on a patch of grass and snow with a heavy thump.
“Twilight!” shouted a distant someone.
There was a weight on top of her. She opened her eyes and for a brief second all she saw was the rumpled silhouette of a pony with hair so mussed she was unrecognisable.
“Bon-Bon …?” she croaked.
The pony shook its head and flicked snow off its wings. “Lyra, it’s me,” it panted in a voice that was not the one she wanted. “Twilight Sparkle.”
“Twi … huh?”
Lyra tried to roll away. Where she was she? She could still hear the train shrieking. She spotted carriages zipping past and under the bridge where she had been only seconds ago. Twilight had teleported her a mere few feet to the embankment beside the track. It felt like a hundred miles. It might as well have been.
“Bon-Bon!” Lyra reached out like she could stop the train with her telekinesis. Her hooves scrambled and slipping in the snow.
Twilight pulled her back and held her tight.
“She’s not there, Lyra,” she whispered, voice thick with either emotion or exhaustion from teleporting twice in less than a minute, one of those times carrying another pony.
“No, she …” Lyra shook her head again. A thought slotted into place like a band-aid over an ugly wound in her mind. “She’s in Manehattan with her grandmother.”
“No, Lyra. She’s not. You have to remember.”
“I do remember!” Lyra yelled, trying to buck her off – difficult when she was sprawled on her belly with Twilight’s weight on top of her. “Her grandmother had a stroke! Bon-Bon went to Manehattan to take care of her!”
“Lyra, please,” Twilight begged. “You have to stop this.”
“Let go of me!” Lyra struggled, turning her head wildly, trying to bite at the pony on her back. “Let go! Let go! Let go!” Her horn glowed. Twilight yelped in pain as she was dragged away by her tail. Lyra tried to get up but found her way barred by two orange hooves that planted themselves in front of her nose.
“Whoa there, missy, there ain’t no call for that.”
“Be careful, Applejack,” said the owner of the pale blue hooves that stopped next to her. “She’s acting whacked.”
“Rainbow! You don’t say stuff like that at a time like this!”
“Well she is! She tried to jump off a bridge in front of a moving train! If that’s not whacked, I don’t know what is.”
Lyra stared up at the pair of them, noting how each one vied to place herself incrementally ahead of the other as if protecting each other.
From me?
From you? asked the husky alto only she could hear anymore.
They were so close, so close, so close. In that instant she hated them for it. She jumped up, turned and lashed out with a savage kick. Why should they have what she couldn’t? It was hers, not theirs! Hers and –
“Sweet Celestia!”
“Look out!” Rainbow Dash tackled Applejack to the ground. They landed in a jumbled heap, punctuated by a yelp of pain from Rainbow Dash when she rolled on her injured wing.
Lyra turned again and rose onto her hind legs as if about to bring both forehooves down on them.
“That’s enough, Lyra!” boomed a deep voice.
She faltered and fell back. “B-Boss Pony?”
Noteworthy advanced slowly, clambering up the other side of the embankment from the road below. He was staring at her with an expression she couldn’t identify, but she knew she didn’t like it. She shrank away from him, from Applejack, from Rainbow Dash, and especially from Twilight. She didn’t understand this. Her head hurt and her mind couldn’t make the connections between everything that was going on. Her thoughts skittered away, twisted up in visions of twisted metal, broken glass and a spiral of smoke viewed from a station platform.
“Leave me alone,” she whimpered. “All of you, just leave me alone!”
“We can’t do that,” said Noteworthy. “We did that already and it wasn’t the right thing to do then, either.”
“What are you … why can’t you just …?” She scrunched up her eyes and kicked out at nothing, bucking in place for several irate, irrational seconds. “Leave me alone! Leave me alone! Leave me alone! I don’t need any of you! I don’t want any of you! I just want … I just … want …”
“Lyra?”
The hesitant voice that said her name cut through her rage like lemon juice in milk. Lyra’s eyes snapped open and she came to trembling stop. “Huh? S-Sweetie Belle? What are … is it time for another l-lesson already?”
Sweetie Belle crept towards her, cautious but resolute. Behind her Rarity watched with wide-eyed alarm, turning her head but not averting her gaze when Spike, standing on her back, murmured something in her ear.
Lyra stared at the filly. Pieces of a jigsaw strove to fit together in her head but it was like trying to finish it without the picture on the box for reference. She had so many different oddly shaped pieces muddling around in there but no coherent way of putting them back together so that every single piece got used. Instead, she did what she had been doing for a while and picked out the pieces she liked best, shoving them together and leaving out the rest.
“Lyra,” Sweetie Belle repeated. “Why did you try to hurt yourself?”
“I … I wasn’t trying to …” Lyra struggled. “I was going to see Bon-Bon. She’s in Manehattan with her grandmother.”
Sweetie Belle bit her lip. She took another step towards Lyra. “Bon-Bon’s grandmother … died last month. She had a stroke and Bon-Bon went to see her few days before … she died.”
Lyra shook her head again. Sweetie Belle sounded like she hated saying the word ‘died’ but was saying it anyhow. It was wrong for her to have to do that. This was all wrong!
Like a swelling tide of dark water, more wrongness headed towards Lyra, ready to crash over her and suck her into another zone-out.
“She … went to Manehattan,” Lyra whimpered. “I wanted to go with her but her family … she didn’t want to stress out her grandmother by arriving with me and causing a big argument. Her parents … they threw her … she … she is in Manehattan. I know she is! I’ve been getting letters!”
Sweetie Belle’s eyes filled with tears. “There was an accident, Lyra. The train –”
“No!” Lyra sank to the ground, covering her head with her hooves. “No!”
“You went to her funeral.” Sweetie Belle choked on the words. “We all did – practically the whole town. Her … her parents came and you … you argued with them in the cemetery … don’t you remember?”
The world blurred at the edges. Lyra fought it but the force of reality was as inexorable as gravity pulling her wingless body down.
“She should have been buried at home in Manehattan, with her family,” snapped the mare in the black dress and veil. She pressed a hankie to her face but it was dry as the bottom of a hoof in the desert.
“She is home!” Lyra poured every ounce of her grief and anger into the statement. This was the first time she had ever met these two ponies. She already hated them.
“This was a bolthole, nothing more,” said the stallion. “She ran here after we argued. If her grandmother hadn’t seen that wretched advertisement for that wretched candy store she would have stayed and come to her senses. Instead, she met you.”
“And we were happy together!”
“You were both deluding yourselves.” Bon-Bon’s mother looked so much like her it was scary. Her voice, however, was nothing like Bon-Bon’s husky alto. After six years in Ponyville, Bon-Bon’s Manehattan drawl had softened, just like she had softened from the edgy, tense mare who first landed in their podunk little town. Her mother’s accent was sharp as a hacksaw and just as cutting. “She would have realised that eventually. You could never have made her happy. What you had was just escapism.”
“Wrong! We love each other!” Lyra closed her eyes, consciously correcting herself. It still hurt every time she had to. “We loved each other.”
“If she had never met you, she would have come to her senses and come home sooner,” said her father. “Instead, she was on that train when it crashed. She never would have been there if you hadn’t kept her in Ponyville all this time!” “
It’s your fault she’s dead!” her mother spat.
Even though she knew this was nonsense, Lyra faltered. “N-No it’s not.”
“It is! If she had been in Manehattan instead of Ponyville when her grandmother took sick, she would still be alive today.” Bon-Bon’s mother pressed her hankie to her face again, her grief translating itself into a desire to hurt somepony else. “I’ve lost my daughter and my mother in the same week and I will never forgive you for that, or for keeping me from my Bon-Bon by burying her here against our wishes. You stole her from us!”
“It … she …” Lyra drew a deep breath. “Get out. Take your spite and leave, right now, or I will throw you out.”
Her mother opened her mouth to reply.
The world blurred at the edges again and Lyra fell back into her own head.
Someone was nuzzling her. And crying. Crying with her. Someone was nuzzling her and crying and she was crying too and … and … and …
Bon-Bon waving from the train carriage.
A spiral of distant smoke.
A mailpony she didn’t recognise knocking the door with an officially stamped letter.
A closed coffin.
Staggering from the cemetery as the world blurred out for the first time
Returning to herself at the post-box with no recollection of what had happened in between.
Getting a letter.
Reading the letter.
Crying over the letter.
Replying to the letter.
Addressing the letter … to her own house?
The band-aid tore away, revealing the ugly wound beneath. Lyra sobbed – deep, wracking sobs that came up from the deepest place inside her, where they had been hiding since that day in the cemetery.
Beside her, tears trickled down Sweetie Belle’s cheeks as she continued to nuzzle and provide comfort the only way she knew how. She met her sister’s gaze. Rarity nodded through her own tear-filled eyes.
“Bon-Bon …” Lyra wept. “Bon-Bon … Bon-Bon …”
Pink blossom dotted the trees and drifted lazily to the ground. It didn’t take much to knock the blossoms free of their branches. A pair of bluebirds teaching their chick to fly set off a flurry of petals with each tiny wingbeat.
Wreathed in garlands of pink, the cemetery looked almost pretty. It helped that so many headstones had bunches of Spring flowers laid before them. Ponies visited more frequently in warm weather. The neatly tended graves attested to the increased attention.
A pair of ponies walked slowly down the gravel path. They didn’t speak as they went. When they had nearly reached their destination, the smaller one stopped and hung back while the taller carried on to a spot beneath one blossom-laden tree.
The sound of a throat being cleared was inordinately loud in the heavy silence.
“Hey, Bonnie.” Lyra was shocked at the scratchiness of her own voice. She cleared her throat again. “I … I’m sorry it’s been a while. I’ve been … away. I kind of … had to leave Ponyville for a while.”
Sighing, Lyra plopped her hindquarters down and addressed the shiny headstone. The name and dates on it were engraved gold and stood out against the black marble.
“I had to go stay at a special hospital. I … I was sick, Bonnie. After you died I … I got real sick. Only I didn’t notice.” She shook her head. “No, that’s a lie. I noticed. I just didn’t care. While I was sick, I actually felt better. Or I thought I did. Does that make sense?”
In the branches of the tree, the bluebirds twittered.
“I wasn’t looking after myself, Bonnie. You would have yelled at me so hard. I didn’t see the point without you. So … I pretended. And I convinced myself that all my pretending was real.” Lyra’s chin dropped onto her chest. “But it wasn’t real. Because … you’re gone. And no amount of pretending can change that.” She let out a breath so forceful it could have cleared the sky faster than the best weather team. “I miss you, Bon-Bon. It miss you every day. I miss you so much that it hurts – like, it physically hurts. I wake up in the morning and I want to throw up and go back to pretending but … but I know that’s the wrong way to deal with this. With not having you in my life anymore. I-I can’t lie to myself. I mustn’t.”
The marble was cool and smooth under her hoof when she touched it. By contrast, the tears that slid down her cheeks were warm. They left her fur damp and her voice trembly, yet she kept her composure enough to carry in speaking.
“I love you, Bon-Bon. I will always love you. Every single second of every single day for the rest of my life, I will love you. But I can’t live in the past. I shouldn’t live in the past. I need to point myself at the future and go in that direction now.”
The marble was just as cool against her lips as it had been against her hoof.
“Goodbye, love,” Lyra whispered.
She got to her hooves and headed to where a tiny white filly was waiting for her. As they walked back among the gravestones, a tuneful hum filled the air. Lyra’s voice rose and fell as it weaved through the complicated notes she had recently taught in her first lesson for a long time. Sweetie Belle’s voice joined hers after a moment. Their harmony made even the bluebirds pause to listen. At the gate, a white mare and blue stallion waited patiently.
On the grave beneath the tree, a wedding ring glittered.
Fin.
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@obabscribbler...
1. Would have been nice if Bon-bon's parents had gotten some sort of comeuppance, but that is a minor bit.
2. Even though I saw the ending coming early on, it was still worthwhile to read through; and that, is what makes for good writing.
3. Overall, a very well done story for Word Count, Quality, and Tragedy Storytelling. A well-earned Like here.
An awesome story, just wish it wasn't so sad but that seems to be your style.
That's all I got to say
This was a nice little mystery that left me... feeling bad. I suppose I should have expected it with the sad tag and all, but I didn't really see that one coming. Either way, great job.
Cue the waterworks!
Amazeingly written, Obab! Well done!
Damn. Liked and fav'ed.
Must have gotten some dust in my eyes...
I don't know how to feel right now.
It is incredibly rare for me to be moved or emotionally affected even slightly by stories like this. Yet, I can't help but feel melancholy and as Lyra may have described it, "zoned out".
This is easily one of the best stories I've read in my entire life.
For the first time in years, I'm geniunely saddened by death. Interesting to think that it's a death which never even happened.
Bravo.
I had to make a new bookshelf for finished stories of this caliber because of you...
I read through this hopping that the town was mistaken in there implications.
Then I hoped Lyra would punch Bon's mother.
Incredibly sad to see neither happened.
Good work.
New story. Cant wait (but have to) to read it
“Applejack, what in the name of Celestia are you doin’? You don’t need that dinner. We don’t even have a microwave on the farm!”
From the context I think you mean that Applejack was talking, and that she meant to start the sentence by saying "Rainbow Dash"
“Pffft, no,” Lyra sniggered. “But sip it slow anyhow.”
Lyra tried to roll away. Where she was she?
This was poignant on many levels. Of love, of death, of life, of going mad... it spoke... spoke truth... beautiful, terrible truth. It's not a greek tragedy, it's not a tale of infinite sorrow... it's just a story so bloody close that it tears at your heart like those can't because the feeling is something we are too familiar with. After I'm done crying I'll try to write more.
That was heartbreaking, even though it was obvious from the get go what was going on
The execution saves it from being just another twist ending story. It was gripping and compelling at every point, and rather than just wonder what was going on, or lose interest because I saw it coming, the story kept me feeling strongly for poor Lyra, and hoping that she would get better.
Now I wanna reread Playing with my Heart...
Very well executed. Like one or two people have said, I suspected what was going on almost from the start (with at least 90% certainty). But that didn't really matter, since your writing holds the interest to see how it plays out anyway. Excellent job.
And here I was expecting for Bon-Bon to die during the story, not before. Otherwise, it played out exactly as I expected yet still surprised me. Great job.
Oh my gosh... This is was so sad!
Great job, it was beautifully written. Some little mistakes here and there, but pretty good. 
Upvoted, and favorited. Best of luck on this story. 
Quite touching, predictable, and very well written.
as a
________
Ah
________
remove "
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Needs beginning " marks.
Her
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Despite the fact it was pretty predictable, it's still a great story.
The ring at the end, oh the ring! I was fine through the entire thing, I couldn't stop reading but I wasn't sad. But then the ring... it all hit me right then. Wow, just -- wow.
I spilled a manly tear. It was a great story and it was predictable but I think that's what made it good. When I read the first letter - I knew something was up. I guessed that Bon Bon had either broken up with Lyra or died, but the way you did it... That's what really counts. Any author can write a sad story. It takes a real author to write a real heart wrenching and soul numbing story such as this one.
Bravo, sir, bravo.
I think that is supposed to be Rainbow Dash, there. Wouldn't Applejack know what she has on the farm?
Great story none the less, though.
Wow. This really hit home for me. Take this like and favorite.
Man... that was heartbreaking. Like, a genuinely visceral, ice-in-the-chest grief. This story worked through love and loss in a really intimate way, and you managed to end it with a silver(-ish) lining without being cloying or overly sentimental about it. I really respect that. It takes a lot to put raw stuff like that on the page, and double that to deliver it so frankly. Without dressing it up, or deifying the dead, or anything like that.
There were a few tiny issues, I'd say—like, sometimes the tangents in the character's thoughts seemed a little random and meandering ('cept Lyra's, of course, for obvious reasons), and a couple of times some very British slang snuck into the dialog when I'm not sure you meant it to, but none of that really took me out of the story for more than a second or two. Just little stuff to watch out for in edits, I think.
But seriously, good, GOOD work here. I stayed up well past when I should've slept and cried till my cheeks hurt. 10/10
5224947
It isn't a tear... it's liquid... hmmm...
I guess pride doesn't really work in this situation, does it?
5227913 I don't believe so, unfortunately.
I don't ship them, but the story is good! Keep writing!
First of all, I'm glad I finally found another writer who did a story for the friend off! I was wondering where all the stories were...
Second, this is a beautiful story. I rarely comment on stories, because it is very easy to say things that you don't mean, but I can honestly say that this story is as heartwrenching a story as I have ever read, and I read My Little Dashie!
I love this story, and I hope that everyone who reads it will as well, because this is a story worthy of tears, and if I were still able to cry, I would be. Thank you for writing this.
. . .
It should be noted that predictable is not bad. I knew where this story was going and almost how it would get there before I even started reading it. I also Favorited it before I even opened the chapter, and as expected it deserved the favorite. I'm a sucker for a tragic romance but I don't know why; actually I do its because no matter how exaggerated a tragic romance gets it always seems more real than the classic romance. I have to say my only hesitance on this story at all is the romantic pairing of Bon Bon and Lyra, but that's a personal thing and shouldn't be reflected in my thoughts. I have a question though besides being obviously musically inclined was there an additional reason for Sweetie Belle to be Lyra's voice of reason. I'd say its the perfect choice because she bares a physical similarity to the confectioner.
A few typos and I knew the ending even before I read it, but it was a good story!
I may not have cried, but I did enjoy it. I don't cry at much, so it would be a big feat to get me to cry. It certainly distracted me from schoolwork.
This is going into my very favorites!
My dear scribbler you have once again made me very sad and toyed with my heart, and even when I saw it coming it still hurt. I am once again surprised at your writing ability, thank you for writing such compelling stories, but please for the future write a few happier endings. Else I fear I may not be able to take reading your tales as they are often too sad.
5211977
I agree with you on all but one thing. I don't know that this is a tragedy; while it's most certainly Sad, the ending is actually far more hopeful than I'd say fits tragedy proper, given they do save her.
The story is a good one sad but you earned this like
Amazing. Absolutely amazing.
Damn it all, I saved this story for later because I didn't have time for twenty-thousand words, then when I came back I had forgotten to recheck the story tags. I went in blind and saw the almost cheery tone of the first half, and I assumed it was all gonna be sunshine and lollipops the whole way.
MISTAKES WERE MADE.
Now I have to go to work in a few minutes and I am in no condition to talk to people. WHICH IS MY JOB.
BUCK.
Ok let me take a guess as to whats going to happen I would read it now but its 2:36 a.m and I cant stay up till 6:30 a.m and yes Im a slow reader so please no hurting feelings. But anyway so whats going on is that Lyra is sending letters to Bon-Bon in Manehatten and people find that weird because Im going with my basic instincts and saying Bon-Bon is dead and the story shows her slowly go mad. But dont listen to me because Im a bucking retared so yeah that is all
One word, HOLYSHITHATWASSUPERAWESOMEMOTIONALANDNOWIMCRYING :D
5229137 I always inturpreted MLD to be the story of a dillusional man living in a world formed by his mind trying to cope with the sheer edginess of his life. Also MLD being sad, even omg Pinkie has cancer fics feel sadder.
5233457
The tragedy is, if you're not paying attention, that you discover towards the end the true nature of the letters Lyra is writing. Ending in a tragic discovery is just as tragic as ending in a tragic death.
5268176
It is, if the tragic discovery is the ending.
Scootaloo coming home to her parents every day, and the fic ending with the CMCs finding her sleeping in a graveyard, is tragedy. But this ends positively, albeit bittersweet. The story isn't about futility, which I feel is a defining aspect of tragedy.
5268604
So the tragedy was a few paragraphs from the end instead of right at the end. I still think it's close enough.
5224348
Indeed this. Not once in even the letters is it mentioned or plans thereof, besides the clue that having a foal together was discussed. It's that one last unspoken sentiment to keep the reader guessing. Were the two already married... or had Lyra intended to pop the question soon? Perhaps even postmortem?
At least..Things turned out well in the end in a sense.
This was an amazing fic.
I especially loved the twist near the end and how it was resolved, showing how difficult it is to accept the loss of a loved one. I also loved your views on cutie marks as well. The only problem with the story I have, or... I say it's more of a nitpick, is the word count. I understand that this was for the little event on Equestria Daily; but for the most part, I feel that dividing it into small chapters would've worked better. However, then again, that's just me. Also, I'm not familiar with their events, which is making me imply that all fics should only be one chapter long when writing for these events. Also, this was twenty thousand words long, so I think dividing them into chapters wouldn't be necessary.
So, overall, this was a great fic that teaches how we shouldn't wallow in the past but move forward and strive for a better life. Good job to you!
An absolutely amazing and heart wrenching piece of work. Tears were shed at the end
I'll be honest...when I saw the summary I knew what the twist would be. Still a good story though.
Wow. I almost can't put into words how amazing this story is. Wonderful writing, combined with careful attention to detail, and a great twist that you can just barely see coming, but still hits you with full force. It was the end that really got me, though.
So bittersweet.
Congratulations! A story like this really pulls on my Heartstrings!