Requiem for a Belle

by theNDinspector

Just Leave Me Alone

“Miss Rarity, why is Sweetie Belle in Ponyville instead of on her tour?”

“Has Sweetie Belle ended her career as a singer?”

“How is Sweetie Belle planning to respond to the negative criticism and fan-backlash from her recent concerts?”

“Is it true that you and Sweetie Belle have a more ‘special relationship’ with each other?”

After Sweetie Belle had unexpectedly cancelled her tour, it hadn’t taken long before ponies realized that she was currently in Ponyville—particularly the press. Within a couple of days, Rarity found that the showroom of her dress boutique was swarming with reporters from all sorts of newspapers and tabloids. There was once a time when Rarity would have loved this type of attention. Over the years, however, she had come to realize that there were more important and meaningful things in her life than being in the limelight of Equestria. Besides, these reporters weren’t here for her, but for her sister instead.

To be honest though, Rarity did not envy her sister when it came to dealing with situations like this. However, Rarity did have enough experience with reporters to know how to handle them herself. One thing she had come to realize was that it was often better to give a general, overlying statement in this type of situation, as opposed to responding to every haphazard question—which would likely lead to misquoting and misrepresentation.

“Sweetie Belle has found it prudent to take a brief leave of absence due to some stress-related issues that came up during her most recent tour,” Rarity stated, after ensuring that everypony was listening to her. “And I, her sister, have generously offered to let her stay at my home for a time so that she can rest and recuperate. Any plans for her return lie solely with Sweetie Belle, which she is not revealing at this time.

“Now if you all will excuse me, I have a business to run. So unless you’re here to buy some dresses, tuxedoes, or any other such apparel, I’m going to ask you to leave.”

With that, every reporter and camerapony left the boutique, but they didn’t go far. They remained relatively close to the building—circling it like vultures. Anticipating this, Rarity proceeded to close the blinds and curtains of every window in every room. She then locked both the front and back doors. She wasn’t really expecting any actual business today anyways. Rarity sighed as she completed her task.

“Only Celestia knows what is going on in her mind right now,” she thought as she looked to the ceiling to where Sweetie Belle’s room was.

Meanwhile, Sweetie Belle was laying on her bed, barely paying attention to the commotion occurring downstairs. She could tell that it was reporters; all demanding an explanation to her sudden withdrawal from the public eye. While she felt bad that Rarity was taking the brunt of the onslaught for her sake, she was in no mood to deal with them for a while.

Sweetie Belle had a love/hate relationship with the press—and right now she was leaning a little more towards the hate portion. She understood its importance and how it provided a great way for her to let all of her fans know about her and what she was working towards. It was also unrealistic to personally connect with every single one of them, so this was the best way to do it.

However, she knew all too well that the press often didn’t know where too stop. Thanks to her own experience in the Ponyville Elementary School’s newspaper as a gossip columnist with her friends, Sweetie Belle knew how much the press wanted “juicy stories”—the more personal the better. She also knew very well what pain that often caused to those affected by their ravenous appetite. And what made it worse was that the same ponies she was trying to connect too often wanted to read these types of stories. It made her sick.

Sweetie Belle fidgeted in her bed. She was still exhausted from stress and illness, but she was starting to get a little restless. However, exhaustion overpowered her as her eyelids grew heavier by the second. Soon, she was sound asleep, completely oblivious to everything around her.

***

Knock knock knock

Rarity burst out of her workroom, irritated that somepony else was knocking at the door. She was obliged to see who it was since her shop was still technically open. Every time somepony knocked, however, it was always another reporter or somepony else from the press; never was it a potential customer.

“NO THANK YOU! We are not doing any photo shoots, interviews or press releases!” Rarity yelled, not even bothering to open the door.

“And what about family?” A voice from behind the door said.

Taken aback, Rarity unlocked the door and opened it. Two middle-aged ponies were at the door mat. One had a moustache and a hideous shirt from Hoofalulu. The other had an atrocious—and somewhat flattened—beehive manestyle along with a more sensible outfit.

“Mother, Father?” Rarity finally managed. “What are you doing here?”

“May we come in, darling?” Rarity’s mother asked. “We need to talk.”