Chapter 12: Minor Revelations.
Lightning flashed quietly in the distance, as unperturbed by the morning sunshine as the continuing golden rain.
Sour Sweet frowned slightly as she and Blueblood crested the hill, side by side. Why would a pair of musicians want to meet him here, in a park near the Ponyville schoolhouse? Were they in danger, somehow? That would explain his having the carriage parked so far away, she supposed. But then, why hadn’t he brought the recording?
The summer grass was short and well maintained, twitching occasionally in the rainfall. Meanwhile, birds sang in the shelter of the trees, happily chasing one another from branch to branch.
Sour Sweet gave them a seething look. The birds might be singing or the sun might be shining, summer days and tra-la-la. But none of that made her any feathering drier.
Still, she had to acknowledge that the Cloudsdale pegasi knew their stuff. Faced with such an occasion on no notice, the weather ponies had outdone themselves. For while the skies continued to weep in honor of the dead, the sky was almost clear of clouds; the sunlight illuminating the land despite it all in a promise that, even during the darkest of times, light would always remain light.
Which, she had to grudgingly admit, was a pretty cool message. She wasn’t sure how much she agreed with it, exactly, but, well… optimism seemed to be the common speech of Equestria. And, she had to further admit, it was a contagious language.
Inwardly, she sighed. Maybe she could learn it.
Just then, one of Blueblood’s hooves slipped, threatening to send him tumbling down the rest of the hill.
“Look out,” she exclaimed, catching his foreleg in her own as she did.
Arm, she reminded herself. ’Foreleg’ was a thousand years ago. Now they’re arms, at least around here.
He gave her a grateful smile, and the two of them resumed their careful downhill trek. Stepping cautiously as she went, Sour Sweet had to admit that at least one of her questions had just been answered. It would have been stupid to have been lugging the damned recording with them, trudging their way up and down sopping wet hills.
Of course, that still didn’t answer why the hell they were all the way out here in the first place…
“Are you alright?” Blueblood asked. “You seem unusually quiet.”
She gave a smile. “Yeah. But you did say there’s a shelter down there, right?”
He nodded. “Yes. Thanks to the rain, that’s most likely where we’ll find the ladies we seek. And we should have privacy for our interview, as well.”
She shot him a perturbed frown. “Most likely?”
Blueblood gave her a good-natured shrug and the two of them continued walking, stepping out from the line of trees that acted as a kind of semi-canopy against the hilltop… and, coincidentally, had allowed a momentary respite from the rain. Blueblood’s telekinesis was suitable for a basic umbrella effect for one, but his magic strained to cover them both, and some of the drops always made their way through.
Sour Sweet tried to conceal her irritation, knowing from experience she was doomed to failure.
Don’t be a bitch, she told herself, again and again. He’s doing his best. You volunteered for this. He’s doing his best. You volunteered for this. You volunteered. Don’t be a bitch, don’t be a bitch, don’t be a…
Then, at the hill’s base, they both stopped. And, despite herself, Sour Sweet smiled.
By the lakeside, not too far from the bottom of the hill, there was indeed a sturdy wooden shelter. Dark brown walls and beams surmounted a base of stone slabs, pale and dry under the summer rain. Beneath its roof were also several tables and a wooden bench, the latter facing away from them both.
Seated upon it were Diamond Tiara and Sweetie Belle, holding hooves. Diamond’s head was resting gently upon the other filly’s shoulder, while Sweetie leaned her own head upon Diamond’s. Both of them were obviously busy watching the rain and the lake together, oblivious to the adults’ approach.
“Aw,” Sour Sweet whispered.
Seeing that Blueblood wore an identical smile, Sour Sweet exchanged a quick glance of understanding with him and the pair quietly retraced their steps partway up the hill. Then, they began their descent again, this time treading upon several loud twigs in the process. By the time they reached the hill’s base, the two young mares were sitting at opposite ends of the bench, studying the water, seemingly unaware of anypony nearby but themselves.
“Forgive me, ladies,” Blueblood said.
Both young mares turned, then stared.
“I hate to intrude,” he continued as he entered the shelter, “but I was wondering if I might have a few moments of your time. Both of you.”
Sweetie Belle gave Diamond Tiara a glance, and Diamond shook her head.
“You’re not intruding, Your Grace,” she said. “You’re trying to help.”
“We can talk later, if that would be better,” Sour Sweet offered.
But the pink mare just shook her head again.
“I might not be able to later,” she said. “Sometimes, it’s like a storm in my head. Sometimes I’m numb. Right now, it’s like I’m almost okay. So whatever you need… I think it’s best if we do this now.”
Blueblood nodded, and sat on the dry stone facing the pair, with Sour Sweet quietly seating herself next to him. While they did, the two young mares surreptitiously scooted closer together again.
“Very well, then,” the prince said. “In light of what is at hoof, let us dispense with formalities. And please, tell me everything.”
Diamond Tiara swallowed. “About that night?”
“To begin with, yes.”
Uncertainly, Diamond Tiara glanced at Sweetie Belle. Sweetie, for her part, took Diamond’s hoof again and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Diamond took a deep breath, and then began her narrative, her words accompanied by the rain’s gentle tattoo on the shingles above them all.
“When I showed up at Sweetie’s house that night, Rarity said she didn’t know that we’d had anything planned,” she said. “We usually started around dinner time, but I was a little early, because of the festival. The three of us – Mom, Dad, and I – we’d spent the day together, and then gone our own ways…”
She sighed. “Anyway. Rarity said that normally I’d be welcome, but Sweetie was sick and in no shape for company. I could tell she was exhausted, though, so I offered to take care of Sweets and let her sleep. Rarity argued, but she was just getting over it herself, and she was practically falling asleep on her hooves. I promised her that I’d had it too, so she couldn’t get me sick.
“I saw her go upstairs, and close the door. And I know that doesn’t prove anything, but I know she was there all night…”
“We all do,” Blueblood assured her.
Then, Sweetie Belle gently broke in, saying, “Rarity had let slip that she’d cancelled her museum plans to stay home with me. I hadn’t wanted her to. But sometimes, she forgets that I’m not a little filly anymore. Anyway, it ended up turning out the best for everypony. She got to rest, and we got to…”
Her voice trailed off while the two young mares blushed, and Blueblood simply nodded.
“If it helps any, you’re among allies,” he smiled. “Neither of us will reveal you until you’re ready.”
“It isn’t like that,” Sweetie said.
“Well, it kind of is,” Diamond sighed.
Sour Sweet and Blueblood exchanged concerned looks.
“Mom and Dad had been fighting, more and more, for months,” Diamond Tiara said miserably. “I’d been spending as much time away from home as I could, even before Midsummer’s. I just couldn’t take the yelling. At first I wanted to help, be the ambassador between them both. But, it just kept getting worse.
“Then, one night, it got really bad. I could hear some of what they were saying…”
Blueblood gave a slight nod. “What were they saying, exactly?”
While Sour Sweet scowled at him, Diamond Tiara said, “I could only hear some of what they were saying. It was mostly Mom. Something about bachelors, I think. And toys? And… and me.”
Sweetie Belle held her marefriend’s hoof in both of hers as Diamond closed her eyes.
“Then there was some stuff I couldn’t make out, and then Dad demanded to know who she was, or thought she was… I’m sorry, it was still indistinct. Our walls are stone, everything was still pretty muffled.”
“And when was this?”
“A few days ago, I don’t remember exactly.”
But Blueblood only nodded, saying, “That’s fine. Please continue.”
Taking a deep breath, Diamond went on, “Dad came into my room later.”
“Forgive me. The night of the fight, or a different time?”
“The fight. He looked awful, like he’d been crying. I asked him what was wrong, but he told me no. That I should stop trying to make things better between them, that it wasn’t my job.
“Then, he said I’d been spending a lot of time away from the house. At the boutique.”
She sighed. “I told him I’d been having dinner there a lot, and lately I was spending the night once or twice a week. Mom hadn’t noticed, of course. At least, not until Dad had pointed it out while they were fighting. She’d been too busy, as usual. But Dad had known for a while, I guess. He said he wasn’t upset, he just wanted to make sure I was okay.”
Sweetie Belle moved closer and put an arm around Diamond’s withers.
“He asked if it was because they were fighting,” the pink mare continued, looking down. “If I was just avoiding them both. I could have said yes, and technically it wouldn’t have been a total lie… but that wasn’t the real reason. I’d have been spending as much time as I could with Sweets no matter what things were like at home. And, well, he looked so miserable when he asked… So, I told him about Sweetie Belle. About why I’d been spending my time with her. ”
With a sad smile, she said, “And for the first time in months, he looked happy. He’d always been depressed, or angry, or just too exhausted before, even if he’d come home in a good mood. But now, he wanted to hear all about her.
“So I told him about how we met, how she made me feel. How I felt about her, and how I thought she felt the same about me but I wasn’t a hundred percent sure, and what was Mom going to say when I told her…?
“Well, when I was done, he said everything would be okay. That he would handle things. And to let him worry about telling Mom.”
“We weren’t official or anything yet,” Sweetie Belle said, picking up the narrative again. “We both knew how we felt, but we weren’t sure how each other felt. I mean, we were both pretty sure, but… yeah. So, Midsummer Night, while Diamond was spending the night taking care of me, I confessed my feelings for her.”
“It wasn’t what I was expecting,” Diamond admitted. “I’d had it all planned out for a while, how I would tell her. After all, I was pretty sure she felt the same way? I’d envisioned us telling each other outside, under the fireworks, like something out of a story. But when her fever broke, and she looked up at me and she told me…”
For a moment, the two young mares exchanged a loving look. Then, out of nowhere, Diamond Tiara choked, then burst into tears.
In an instant, there were three pairs of arms around her. And for several minutes, nopony spoke, two adults and a young mare holding Diamond as she cried. Finally, she managed to articulate between the sobs that wracked her body.
“It’s not fair!” she wept. “I’m sup-supposed to be the strong one! Diamonds don’t crack under pressure, they sh-shine! Mom always says that!”
“She also says that painting should be beneath you, and that servants shouldn’t be thanked for doing their jobs,” Sweetie pointed out, hugging her tighter. “To borrow a phrase from Apple Bloom, your mom is thick as two short planks.”
“How can I be happy about this?” Diamond demanded through her tears. “My father is dead, what is wrong with me?!?”
“There’s not a damned thing wrong with you,” Sour Sweet hissed, eyes blazing, holding the younger mare fiercely by the shoulders. “You’ve got a right to your joy! And your pain! Now stop fighting it and let it out!”
It was quite a while before this latest storm of emotions had finally released Diamond Tiara, leaving her wrung-out and nearly spent.
“I take it your families don’t know,” Blueblood said at last.
Both girls looked at one another.
“It depends on how you count family,” Sweetie Belle said.
“I think most of the Elements figured us out, and the CMC certainly know,” Diamond Tiara added.
“But Rarity doesn’t,” Sweetie Belle said with a decisive shake of her mane. “And Di’s mom doesn’t.”
Diamond Tiara gave a jagged sigh. “We were going to tell everypony the next day, but…”
The young mare shrugged helplessly, and for the space of several heartbeats there was only the sound of the rain. Ultimately, Blueblood placed a gentle hoof on her withers.
“Diamond Tiara,” he said softly, “Would you look at me for a moment?”
Still sniffling, the earth pony looked up at him, gold mane and deep blue eyes.
“Years ago,” he began, “when this ancient land was not quite so ancient and your parents were newly-wed, Spoiled Rich attended her first Grand Galloping Gala.
“She was, as you might imagine, rather taken aback by this new culture she was suddenly being exposed to, with all its customs and regalia. She was also, being your mother, extremely unsure of herself. She might even have felt intimidated by the unfamiliarity of it all, I don’t know. But regardless, Spoiled knew enough of the upper classes, so called, that she understood the tradition of wearing shoes at formal occasions.”
Diamond Tiara spared him a confused look. “Um, okay?”
“The wearing of slippers by mares is a particularly cherished tradition,” he continued. “The princesses, of course, have the custom of wearing shoes of precious metals… or, in the case of the Crystal Empire, I believe fine crystal. Most ponies seem to think this is to represent both the ladies’ status and their own indestructibility. In actuality, I think it’s just because hard shoes last longer.
“The rest of the noblemares, meanwhile, wear slippers of silk, satin, or other fine materials… ideally adorned with lace, embroidery, and so forth. Besides being more comfortable when one is spending hours on end standing and walking on smooth stone, these delicate treasures have the advantage of wearing out very quickly. Oh, yes,” he added at her quizzical look, “advantage. Especially if one chooses to enjoy a walk through a garden, a hedge maze, or what have you.
“You see, it is customary to have one’s servants ready with several pairs of new slippers throughout the evening as the old pairs wear out. Some ladies will go so far as to coordinate different pairs with different events across an evening, or different times of day. Ultimately, of course, all are thrown away by festivities’ end.”
Diamond Tiara frowned, her misery momentarily subdued. “That sounds… stupid.”
Blueblood nodded. “Oh, it is. And wasteful. But it’s also a sign of wealth. And as such, it persists against all rational judgement.
“Anyway. Spoiled Rich had a very special talent, especially among non-unicorns. Very few earth ponies or pegasi can manage to manipulate objects as small as needles with their hooves, much less with any precision. But Spoiled could not only sew, but embroider. And apparently, she was quite good at it. So good, in fact, that the sets of shoes she had made for herself momentarily became the rage of the Gala.”
Diamond stared. “I never knew that.”
The unicorn nodded. “I’m not surprised. You see, Spoiled took the fascination and applause of the noblemares around her as sarcasm and condescension. She thought they were mocking her for having ‘peasant skills.’ So, she made a scene and destroyed the pair she was wearing, taking care to only wear shoes made by the most expensive and well-known embroiderers from then on. So far as I know, she has never touched a needle since.”
“‘Peasant skills,’” Diamond Tiara muttered, looking down. “That’s what she called my paintings.”
“Again, I’m not surprised,”
Gently, Blueblood placed his hoof beneath her chin and guided her eyes back to his own.
“I’m truly sorry, dear one,” he said sadly. “Sorry for my questions, sorry for everything you’re going through, sorry for the terrible injustice of it all. But it remains that I need to ask you something both awkward and challenging, and I’m afraid I’m not certain it can wait.”
One of Diamond’s ears flattened in puzzlement.
“I’m asking you to never cut part of yourself away for the sake of someone else’s approval or desires,” Blueblood explained. “Not just regarding your paintings, but regarding everything that is yet to come. To never lie to yourself about who you are, or cast aside what gives you joy. And, just as important, to never ask such a thing of others.
“In short, I’m asking you to be wiser than your mother.”
Diamond Tiara looked down again. “I’m… not sure how to take that,” she said at last.
“I don’t blame you in the slightest,” he replied kindly. “But I have every faith in you, just the same.”
“So, what do you think?” Blueblood asked.
Sour Sweet glanced at him, then examined the trees before them as they ascended the hill again, the young marefriends still in the shelter behind them.
“I think I finally found a pony more socially awkward than me,” she said. “It’s kind of interesting to watch.”
Amused, he arched an eyebrow. “I see. And regarding the discussion itself?”
Glancing back his way, her smile was teasing. “I think if you’d ever visited the Crystal Empire you’d know that Princess Cadence’s shoes are gold, not crystal.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, yes. But what about the girls?”
“I think the murderer got the wrong parent,” she snarled through suddenly bared teeth.
Blueblood’s smile was unperturbed. “Focus, please?”
She sighed, running a hoof through her damp hair. “I think there’s something seriously wrong with the Rich family. Or maybe just with Spoiled. When father and daughter are that worried about the missus finding out her daughter has a marefriend… I mean, seriously, what the hell?”
“Yes. I wonder why that was? If the young lady had known, I think she would have mentioned it.”
“Because Spoiled was a snob, maybe?” Sour Sweet suggested. “And so maybe Diamond’s marefriend being the little sister to... no…”
Sour Sweet stopped, frowning for a moment, then the two of them began walking again.
“No, that doesn’t make any sense,” she decided. “Seamstress or not, Rarity is the living Element of Generosity. Being an Element goes well beyond noble rank. It’s beyond any rank. Plus they’re all friends of the princesses! It’s like a step above archduchess, if anything. If you still have archduchesses here,” she added.
Blueblood nodded as they moved past the trees. “Precisely. Plus, both young ladies make each other happy. Not to mention that to weather a disaster like this together, at their age, it’s obviously a good pairing. And for all her faults, Spoiled loves her daughter. So, why? Unless, of course, both husband and child underestimated her completely…”
“Maybe it’s because they’re both mares?”
Blueblood paused, startled. Then, he shook his head.
“No,” he said. “Spoiled Rich doesn’t strike me as homophobic.”
Then, with a sigh, he added, “Ah, well. In any event, our two young lovebirds aren’t our main concern. At least at the moment.”
“You sure about that?” Sour Sweet frowned in gentle disquiet. “Her father was killed, and we still don’t know why. For all we know, Diamond Tiara might be next.”
“She’ll be perfectly safe,” Blueblood assured her.
“And you know this how, exactly?”
“With Miss Rarity near-constantly in the company of her fellow Elements, and occasionally a princess or three – not to mention a dashing and indescribably handsome prince – the murderer would hardly dare a second crime. The risk would be too great. With their fall mare so likely to have a solid alibi, their own guilt might therefore be uncovered.”
Sour Sweet snorted.
Blueblood gestured upwards. “Also, look above us.”
Frowning, Sour Sweet scanned the sky. After several moments, she spotted a blue pegasus mare with rainbow mane peering downward from behind a cloud high above them.
“By adding to Miss Belle’s happiness, Miss Tiara has gained some powerful and dedicated friends,” Blueblood observed. “Whether she realizes it or not.”
Sour Sweet nodded. “Yeah, that’ll work.” Then, sighing, she added, “Okay. So. Marefriends, Diamond Tiara has home trouble, and Filthy was supportive. Also, Mommy Dearest still sucks. Did I miss anything?”
“Diamond Tiara can paint,” Blueblood pointed out.
Sour Sweet rolled her eyes. “Great. Perfect. A nation is stunned. And this has what exactly to do with Rarity’s acquittal?”
He turned to her with a grin. “At the moment? I confess I have absolutely no idea.”
“Joy.”
Gesturing towards the carriage waiting in the distance, he continued, “In any event, my dear, it is time for us to away. By the time we arrive at our next destination, the fair ladies of song and celebration should be ready to meet with us at their own domicile. And with a little luck and their own ingenuity, the package we shall present to them may yet provide us the answers we need.”
Smiling, he offered her his arm.
“Shall we?”
The rest of their walk was spent in companionable silence, the press ponies having begrudgingly refrained from following His Grace everywhere for fear of interfering with the first murder investigation in decades.
Granted, he had to admit that his aunts’ pronouncement that anypony so doing would face their personal ire probably hadn’t hurt, either. But just the same, he liked to think that there was at least a little sense of responsibility left in the profession.
A spell to dry them both, even accounting for his umbrella spell, was unfortunately beyond Blueblood’s ability. However, he was able to heat the towels they’d brought along. And Sour Sweet had to admit to herself that hot towels after a summer rain, in a carriage roomy enough to stand in (at least on the inside), was definitely okay.
Still, it was only when His Grace’s carriage was ascending back into the sky that Sour Sweet spoke again.
“Hey, Blue?”
Blueblood absentmindedly took a sip from his drink. “Mmm?”
“That bit you told Diamond Tiara, about not cutting off things,” she said carefully. “You... weren’t just thinking about her mom, were you.”
It wasn’t really a question, of course. Blueblood looked out his window for a moment before answering, then reluctantly shook his head.
“Filthy sacrificed anything he thought might interfere with his wife’s happiness,” he said. “Friends, business practices, hobbies, anything. He never asked her for aught but her hoof in marriage. But she was like a vain goddess in his life, demanding he place everything he loved before her altar. To all appearances, their daughter - specifically, his protectiveness of their daughter - was the only exception to that worship.”
“And he used to be a friend of yours.”
Again, Blueblood contemplated the sky outside before answering.
“Yes,” he said. “Years ago, he was.”
More silence.
After several minutes, Sour Sweet asked, “So, is somepony watching Spoiled Rich? You know, just in case the killer comes after her?”
Blueblood gave a strange kind of sad smile.
“Mrs. Rich is in no such danger,” he said.
For her part, Sour Sweet looked out at the passing clouds through narrowed eyes.
“Don’t count on it,” she growled.
Blueblood chuckled, and asked the driving team to please take them to the home of the ladies Octavia Melody and Vinyl Scratch.
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I'd forgotten that this Sour is just as out of place as Luna. Nice touch.
You'd think. Yet we get that infamous line about how consorting with the Crusaders isn't the way to move up in Equestria. What Spoiled actually knows about climbing the social ladder would fit on a bar napkin with room for a revolution in physics.
Still, she doesn't seem like a viable suspect, even if her notable fine motor skills are a point of interest given the murder weapon. The investigation continues...
Good on ya, Sour. Good.
The contrast between this Blueblood and the one in Elements of Justice is staggering.
10619573
Hee! Yes, her powers of aggressive ignorance are truly an inspiration. It is hard to not underestimate them.
I'm still putting my money on Spoiled with Janus goading her on.
She's got a powerful motive and plenty of opportunity. Janus has his own reason (fame) and likely the best access to the method. Plus its just a little too easy that no one stepped forward to point out the glaring holes in the prosecutions "case."
We shall hopefully see done progress soon.
10619579
Everyone needs to be reminded of this all the time. Especially those going through the wringer, like DT is here.
Your joy is always valid as is your pain. And you can experience both at the same time with the same intensity. This was a hard lesson learned in the midst of crippling depression after a friend's death. But a lesson I will forever carry with me.
10965728
*nods* A lesson I have learned and re-learned multiple times in my life.
Spoiled Rich née Milk is a fine example of malignant narcissism. She's so terribly insecure that she has to project a façade of supreme confidence (in her mind anyway). Damn if that doesn't make me feel a tiny bit of pity for her. It was much easier when I could scoff in solely utter contempt.