//------------------------------// // The Thunder Rolls // Story: Requiem for a Belle // by theNDinspector //------------------------------// Rarity led her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Belle, into the kitchen and prepared some tea. Family names were somewhat of a flux in Equestria. Some families had their names based on a theme much like the Apple Family: Applejack, Macintosh, Apple Bloom, etc. Then there were a few families that used sir-names all the time, like Mr. and Mrs. Cake at Sugercube Corner. Rarity’s family was one of the latter. In fact, her full name was Rarity Belle, but it just never sounded right. So she never used it—except for a few things where her full legal name was required; like filing for taxes. “What I don’t understand is why Sweetie Belle wouldn’t come to us or talk about these problems,” Mr. Belle said, after having heard Rarity’s explanation of events from the past few days. “Instead, we find out from the newspaper on our doorstep.” “You were on vacation, Father,” Rarity responded. “It’s not like either of us could just contact you.” “She does have a point,” Mrs. Belle said coldly. “You’re right,” Mr. Belle sighed. “They really should make something to get a hold of ponies when they’re away.” “Speaking of which, how did your vacation go?” Rarity asked. “Not as well as we had hoped,” her father replied. “Oh,” Rarity understood, her ears falling flat. “Where is Sweetie Belle anyway?” Mrs. Belle asked. “We really need to talk to her about all this.” “She’s sleeping in her room,” Rarity answered. “She’s been really sick and stressed out about everything that’s happened on her tour. Do you really think now is the best time to talk to her?” “Talk to me about what?” The three ponies at the table looked up. Sweetie Belle was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, looking a little worse for wear. There were bags under her eyes, her mane was a complete mess and she was slightly off color. Yet there she was, standing there with what little strength she currently had. “About you, darling,” Mrs. Belle quickly said. “Could you give us a moment Rarity?” Mr. Belle asked. Rarity glared at her father for a moment, but then relented. She returned to her workroom. Her parents waited until they could hear the faint rhythm of a sewing machine before continuing. “How are you feeling Sweetie?” Her mother asked, concerned as her sick daughter sat down. “Okay, I guess,” Sweetie Belle replied, with a slight drone in her voice. “I’ve been better.” “Rarity told us what happened, but we still don’t understand why,” Mrs. Belle continued. Sweetie Belle hesitated and then said, “well, it’s just that nopony liked my show and-” “Now don’t give me any of that, young lady,” Mr. Belle said with a level of sternness that was very familiar to the colts who called him ‘coach’ on the Ponyville High hoofball team. “You’ve gone into this career path knowing that not everypony was going to like your music. We’ve taught you better than that.” Sweetie Belle looked down at the table, on the verge of tears. “You’re being too hard on her!” Mrs. Belle said angrily to her husband. “I’M SORRY, BUT IT HAS TO BE SAID!” Mr. Belle snapped back. “We’ve been idle in this for too long!” “I…I was afraid,” Sweetie Belle said quietly. “Why would you be afraid, darling?” Mrs. Belle asked, returning to a more gentle tone. “I didn’t want to disappoint you,” Sweetie Belle continued, tears running down her face. “How could you disappoint us?” Her mother asked. “We’re both proud of you and what you do.” “But how can you be?” Sweetie Belle said, raising her voice a little. “I’m running away from my problems, and hiding from them. And nearly every relationship I’ve been in has failed! Nopony seems interested in me for being me. “But you have it perfectly. You have each other. You spend time together and always go out. You love each other. I, on the other hoof, never spend much time with you, Rarity or anypony else. I seem to be failing at everything lately!” With that, everypony fell silent—with the exception of Sweetie Belle’s sobbing and the continuing rhythm of Rarity’s sewing machine. Sweetie Belle’s parents glanced at each other, both with a pained look of apprehension on their faces. They knew that they needed to say something to their grieving daughter, but they weren’t sure if what they had to say would comfort her at all or just add to the burden. Mr. Belle sighed, “I’m afraid you have the wrong idea about us, Sweetie Belle.” “What do you mean?” Sweetie Belle asked, wiping the tears from her face. “You see, your father and I have been having difficulties for quite some time now,” Mrs. Belle expanded. “It has been far from perfect.” Sweetie Belle stared at her parents blankly, not quite sure how to process what they were saying. “It started years ago, while you were a filly; still trying to find your special talent and strengthen your magic,” her father explained. “Your mother and I…lost something. We were constantly at each other’s throats rather than in each other’s forelegs.” “We tried to shield you as best as we could so that you could have a happy fillyhood,” Mrs. Belle added, looking down. “We didn’t want you to be affected by our problems. I guess we did too good of a job at that.” “It was a huge relief when you started spending more and more time with your sister,” Mr. Belle admitted. “We knew that she would care for you, but it also meant that we would spend less time with you—depriving you of the time with us so that you could confide in us with anything.” Mrs. Belle looked back into her daughter’s eyes, “Do you remember how your father and I would always go on vacation?” Sweetie Belle nodded—not liking where this conversation was going at all. “It was our way of trying to recapture the magic,” Mrs. Belle explained. “We were trying to recreate that love from the spontaneity we had when we were around your age.” “But soon, even that stopped working,” Mr. Belle said. “We’ve also tried seeing counselors and doing everything we could. For a time, we thought we had overcome our problems and all was well, but they never truly died.” “We’ve been discussing this for a very long time, Sweetie Belle,” Mrs. Belle solemnly said. “And on our vacation to Canterlot this past week, we’ve come to a decision.” Mr. and Mrs. Bell looked at each other once again before looking back at their daughter. “It is time for us to end it,” Mr. Belle finally admitted, with Mrs. Belle closing her eyes in sadness. “WHAT?” Sweetie Belle screamed, with a squeak in her voice that hadn’t happened since she was a filly. “Sweetie Belle,” her father began. “I know its upsetting, but…” “HOW COULD YOU?” Sweetie Belle continued to rant. “After all this time, everything you’ve ever done for us, and you’re getting divorced?” Her mother looked up, “We’ve tried every-” “DO WE MEAN NOTHING TO YOU?” Sweetie Belle shouted, her sickly green face turning red. “Sweetie Belle,” her father said trying to calm her down. “You and Rarity are the most important things we have in our lives.” “APPARENTLY NOT!” Sweetie Belle screamed—squeaking once again. Then she stormed out of the kitchen, went up the stairs and slammed the door to her room. Rarity appeared from her workroom—looking upstairs. She then turned back towards her parents, staring daggers at them. “Well, I hope you’re happy,” she said, and then she too went upstairs to try and comfort her younger sister. Silence and guilt descended on those left in the kitchen. With heavy hearts they got up and left the boutique. Both felt that they had just lost more than each other. No, they were not happy at all. They didn’t want any of this to happen when they finally told Sweetie Belle of the problems they’ve had for years. To be honest, though, they probably shouldn't have expected anything different.