Chapter 1/? - A Fated Encounter?
It’s the Sweetie Drops and Lyra show!
Two mares as opposite as they come
One is reserved, the other is a free spirit
They are Sweetie Drops and Lyra!
The Sweetie Drops and Lyra show!
I’m telling you, their names are Sweetie Drops and Lyra!
It’s what you get for not requesting
Let the story begin!
EQUESTRIAN SHIPPING SHORT STORY 06: BACTERIA POT MONSTERS
Part 1/? – A Fated Encounter?
This story starts as Sweetie Drops was putting up her stand, a ritual she performed every morning as a testament to her stalwart character. There was never much business to come across in the market district where all the other ponies also set up shop. As no laws dictated where you could and couldn’t do business, Sweetie Drops decided to try out the park. Always plenty of ponies strolling by at all hours of the day. But business was still slow. Ponies only came by in small intervals and none of the joggers were interested in candy. Foals seemed to be her biggest, and only, crowd. They could always drag their parents up to her stall. Then it was just nodding in understanding and giving out a little extra, but those parents eventually took other routes so their foals couldn’t be tempted. Ponyville Park was big enough for that.
‘It will be a day like all the others,’ she thought. She sighed and leaned in over her booth, closing her eyes and wishing for a miracle to happen. Just once. Surely she had earned that privilege with all the diligence she had put into the family business.
Musical tones flowed through the park. The harmonious music was unlike anything she had ever heard. The notes were masterful, the beat instigating but the song also tinged with a hint of sadness. She looked around to see if she could identify the source. The broad path was plenty visited by busy people running or walking quickly. The music wasn’t coming or going however. It was fixed to a spot down her right. Among the lush, green bushes and trees off the road was an almost hidden park bench. The pony’s mint green coat almost camouflaged her against the greenery. What was she doing there? “Can I get some of those lemon bonbons?”
Sweetie Drops wrested her attention from the mysterious pony. She had only taken her eyes off her stall for a moment and a throng of ponies had already gathered to hear the mournful playing. The pony asking for the order was one of the usual joggers with sweatbands on legs and head. The young steed looked quite excited to get back to the crowd. He hardly noticed the cone being hoofed to him and his bits absentmindedly found their way to her money box. It was just some paper taped together with the words “Thank you” taped to it, but it still counted as a box to her.
Trend followed throughout the day. The mysterious pony lounging on the park bench kept her music rolling with eyes closed. Ponies stopped by to look on and have a listen, sometimes flicking bits at Sweetie Drops’ stall. She could even close the stall for an hour to grab some lunch and restock and not lose any profit. Her sweets were still sold out at the end of the day.
It got darker. Park visitors dwindled to a lonely gardener carrying a cart of manure to fertilise the plants. The show had come to an end. Thinking that her magic had somehow taken control of her body and kept her playing, or that she might be a robot, Sweetie Drops wanted to check up on the musical unicorn. In her eager she stumbled over her own stall. The ruckus made the unicorn lift an eyelid. Sweetie Drops blushed furiously. Somehow her attempt to free herself only made it worse. Eventually she simply just cleared her throat.
“E-excuse me,” Sweetie Drops began but became unsure how to follow it up. Instead she concentrated on getting herself untangled, only doing so after the booth made a nasty creaking sound.
“I’m sorry, did my playing disturb you? Your stall just smelled so nice that I must have fallen asleep while playing.” She yawned and stretched her legs as far as they would go. How that sentence made any sense knitted Sweetie Drops’ brow in confusion.
Indeed, there was something odd about the pony, but Sweetie Drops just couldn’t put her hooves on it. The unicorn had dishevelled hair and world weary eyes. Like a traveller who has seen all and mostly just wants to find a home. “No, no, that’s not it. I should be thanking you, rather. I’ve never had this many customers. Where did you learn to play like that?”
The unicorn rolled her eyes uncomfortably. “Well… I take after my mother, as dad always reminded me. Even though I look more like him. I guess it’s just my talent?” she explained and pointed to her cutie mark. A golden lyre.
“Um… I didn’t see you take time off to eat so I want you to have these.” It was just some leftovers she had saved for herself. It was all hard candy and a little caramel which was all she could do, but it was enough to paint surprise all over the unicorn’s face as she opened the paper bag. “Will you be here tomorrow as well?”
She didn’t reply at first, too stumped to tear herself away from the goodies. “Yeah, sure. Not like I’m going anywhere.”
“I’ll see you then.”
Sweetie Drops went back to her stall and properly dismantled it. It could be packed into a bundle wrapped together with her banner and then fitted over her shoulders. Any excess candy she stored in her satchels, but not today. She had sold out for the first time and even given her personal stash away. She didn’t begin to think about that until she had gotten a good deal away from the park.
Ponyville was quiet at night with only the animals from the nearby forest calling. Birds singing, grasshoppers chirping, rodents squeaking, frogs croaking on such a warm summer’s day. It felt like the beginning of something new which worried Sweetie Drops. She was the kind of pony never satisfied with the status quo but even less so of changes. Hopefully it was just a fluke, like a summer cold. She put the bundle up against her house wall and sighed irritably. Tomorrow she would bear that burden back to the park again and hope for another day of fine sales. For now she just trudged into her empty home.
It was no bigger than any ordinary houses in Ponyville, but just her on her own made it feel extra big and lonely. Being met with portraits of her parents in the entrance hall did not make things any better. There was her stoic, chocolate brown father on the left with a cocoa bean cutie mark and full face of green beard on the left. Condescending and barrel-shaped. On the right was her just as serious mother with a moth cutie mark whom Sweetie Drops took after, colour and otherwise. Grim-faced and rail thin. And between them, Sweetie Drops as a young mare and the only one with a bright, playful smile. Literally putting a wedge between them. The adult Sweetie Drops sighed, not for the first nor for the last time, wondering why she hadn’t put that awful thing up in the attic long ago.
Perhaps because she was always tired or in a hurry whenever she passed by the painting. It was usually the former whenever she returned and the later whenever she went. All she wanted was a shower, dinner, a quick glance at magazines and then straight to bed. Just like every day without change. She dropped her saddle on the floor but noticed something was different. The pouch was clinking. Curiosity overcame her. How much was actually in there?
She threw a few ingredients into a pot and called it a dinner. It could stew itself while she counted the bits on her kitchen table. At first delight warmed her cheeks but as the bits just kept rolling out, next shock and then bitter anger took its place. She wiped the table clean with one stroke of her arm and screamed in frustration. She rested her head on her arms and sobbed quietly, not noticing that her pot was boiling over.
***
Another day, another round of dragging her unwilling carcass up from bed. It was way too early for her tastes but the candy had to be made before it could be sold, and it had to be made in the morning. That was how her parents had done it, and that was how she did it. The basement had been repurposed to make the candies. Fortunately she made large batches and usually had a lot of leftovers. She could take her time to make just a few fresh rounds and call it a day.
It was light again when she stopped outside with a filled satchel, the booth on her back and eyes refusing to properly pop open. Slowly she dragged herself to the park. It would just be her luck if someone had taken her spot. Or worse yet, if someone hadn’t. She shook her head to get the cobwebs, and negative thoughts, out. A few other ponies greeted her as she trudged along. She tried her best to greet them back, but her knees were shaking. She just barely made it to the park before collapsing on the ground. A loud sigh escaped her lips.
Up the stall went, ready for another day, complete with a banner proclaiming it to be “Sweetie Drops’ Homemade Family Candy.” It was too early for anyone else to be outside. In another hour they would come, all the guests of the park. Joggers, painters, enjoyers of nature and ponies needing to stress down. Until then she could happily flop over the counter like one of her candies in the heat. Would that strange pony be playing again? Oh bother, she hadn’t even caught her name.
The newspaper on her bench moved. The rustle made Sweetie Drops moan and open one eye listlessly. There was no wind to be felt so what could it have been? Almost just shrugging it off, Sweetie Drops closed her eyes again when she heard a yawn. Her head shot up to see the newspaper fall off and reveal an almost perfectly disguised unicorn mare. The pony from yesterday.
Sweetie Drops couldn’t help but become a little curious. Her weariness melted away as she approached the unicorn. The unicorn’s sleep was troubled. Her eyebrows were furrowed and arms jabbed the air with jerky movements. “Have you been sleeping like that all night?” Sweetie Drops asked, with both concern and surprise in her voice.
The unicorn didn’t respond at first. She turned over to face Sweetie Drops and only then opened her eyes tiredly. “What?” the mare asked, drunk from sleep.
“You have, then. Did you fall asleep here?” Sweetie Drops asked and massaged her eyebrows.
“Oh hey, it’s the nice earth pony from yesterday!” The unicorn stretched so she filled the entire bench and smacked her lips dully. “Is it morning already?”
“You’re not answering my question! Did you even go home at all?”
The unicorn slicked back her hair before frantically patting her coat. She relaxed when she found her lyre next to her. The instrument hovered up into the air and beautiful notes flowed from the strings almost immediately. “Sort of. I don’t really have a home in the strictest sense of the word.”
“Don’t tell me you’re homeless?” Sweetie Drops groaned disapprovingly. “What are you doing here in Ponyville then?”
The sun was only reluctantly moving up into the sky. Its rays were slow to dispel the night’s coldness. It was only spring. Not quite summer yet. Still, the days could get hot. Though Sweetie Drops were hard in her tone, she also felt sympathy for the unicorn. “My old man and I had a disagreement, so I decided it was time to hit the road. I guess I just sort of drifted here.”
“But don’t you think your father would be missing you by now?” Sweetie Drops tried to curb that strict tone that had been beaten into her. Instead her words came out accusatory.
The unicorn either didn’t notice or didn’t care. She rested the lyre down on her belly and sighed. “I’m old enough to do my own thing. Besides, he’s not going to come for me. So what’s your name?”
A few ponies had shown up, attracted by the enticing music. They walked around like lost sheep as she stopped. “I’m Sweetie Drops. Look, don’t you have anywhere to go? You could always try and patch things up with your father,” she suggested, but the unicorn jumped down on the ground. A dirty sack was slung over her shoulder. A truly unworthy vessel of her beautiful lyre.
“Nope. Mom died a few years ago and dad is too stubborn. Well, Sweetie Drops, it was nice to meet you, but I’d better get back on the road.” The unicorn nodded with a smile as she trod past Sweetie Drops.
“Wait, you never told me your name,” she pointed out. The unicorn mare stopped, so Sweetie Drops went up next to her. “I never got to thank you properly either. I can take a day off with all the profit you brought me yesterday.”
Quite unexpectedly, the unicorn turned her head to search Sweetie Drops’ face, looking her up and down with eyes that pierced mere flesh and bone. Her face eventually cracked into a wide grin. “It’s Lyra. Lyra Heartstrings. Tell me, if your profit was so great, why don’t you looking happy?”
Sweetie Drops blushed at the question and averted her gaze. “I am happy. It’s just that your story is so sad. And it’s still so early in the morning… what are you doing?”
Lyra pressed her face closer and closer to Sweetie Drops’ while widening her smile more and more. “Oh, if that’s all,” she said in her most mischievous tone. Before Sweetie Drops could make any kind of response or even jerk her head back, Lyra added: “Your treat then! I haven’t had anything good to eat in ages.”
Too late Sweetie Drops realised she had made a terrible mistake. She barely had time to dismantle the stall again and leaning it up against a tree before being dragged off down Ponyville’s streets. Lyra admired the architecture, especially the proud town hall with a statue in front and the rustic homes with thatched roofs. She breathed in deep the air and finally settled for a restaurant with toadstool seats, grinning as she ordered too much and too expensive for Sweetie Drops’ tastes.
“So, Lyra, where are you from?” Sweetie Drops asked and tried desperately not to think of the price. She didn’t feel like adding to the bill when she had already had breakfast. “I can’t help but notice you keep looking at everything.”
“It’s that obvious, huh? Well, not much to say, not much to say at all. I was born in Canterlot but moved with my mom to Fillydelphia when she divorced my dad.” Her first order of a sandwich with hay fries was served by a waiter too upstanding for a quaint, rural town like theirs. He took it with dignified calm however and quickly scuttled back inside.
“I was wondering… would you like to stay in Ponyville for a bit?” Sweetie Drops tried to ignore Lyra’s appalling manners as she practically inhaled her food. “I could really use some help with my business, and if you’re just wandering around anyway.”
Lyra swallowed the big lump of food she had accumulated, took a moment to savour the taste and sighed deeply. “Are you sure that’s what you want? You sound hesitant, like a part of you wants me far away.” She leant in over the table, again with that mysterious tone to her voice.
“What are you talking about? Of course I want my business to succeed,” Sweetie Drops replied heatedly. The incessant questions were flaring up in her cheeks. She was practically offering this homeless pony a job and she kept treating the whole thing like a game!
The second meal arrived, but Lyra kept her gaze on Sweetie Drops. “Sorry, sorry,” Lyra laughed, but playfulness still bled through her words. “I’m flattered you feel that way about my musicianship, but I can’t stay any longer.”
“Why not? I could pay for a place where you can stay and give you food out of the increased profit.” Somehow, that annoying mare had gotten deep enough under her skin to make her make such promises. Yet in that moment the decision appeared sound in her mind.
“I could always stay with you? That would be much cheaper.”
It was then that she realised. Lyra had been playing up to that all along. The giveaway was the sheepish grin, but Sweetie Drops could hardly go back on her word now. She sighed deeply. “Fine, you can have the couch for now.” Before Lyra could say anything, however, Sweetie Drops aimed a hoof at her. “But it’s my house and I expect you to follow my rules. Is that clear?”
Lyra saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”
“… What did I get myself roped into?”
***
“This is really nice.” Lyra dumped her sack with the lyre on the floor. She completely missed the painting and darted down the hallway, again admiring everything she could lay her eyes on. Sweetie Drops shrugged off her satchel with unsold products. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about baking tomorrow. Not that much. The things that sold best were the stuff that was still warm and freshly made.
Sweetie Drops found Lyra again bouncing around her bedroom at the very other end of the room. She cleared her throat so Lyra settled down for a moment. “I’m only keeping you here until I find some cheap arrangement for you. Then you can pay for it yourself with you salary.” Though unable to go back on her word, she could still meet Lyra halfway. “And the bedroom is mine, don’t forget that.”
Lyra snickered, however. “This bed would be big enough for us both. Why else would you have a large bed like this? Don’t tell me you have a special somepony?”
With colour flushing her cheeks, Sweetie Drops grunted and turned back towards the door. “I do not, it’s just the bed my parents left me. And I don’t want to sleep next to you. It’s the couch or nothing else.”
Lyra came up next to her. “I can see you blushing. Don’t tell me you’re not used to share a bed with another pony.” Before Sweetie Drops could protest, however, Lyra simply waved her hoof. “Don’t worry, I’m sure your couch will be fine. Just as long as you have a blanket for me.”
She nodded. “Of course, I could find you something…” but Lyra was speeding through the house, already past the kitchen/dining room. “Where are you going now?”
The unicorn mare didn’t answer before reaching the outside door. She looked over her shoulder with a grin. “Just checking out the city. If I’m going to be staying here, I want to see what Ponyville is all about. Enjoy your day off!”
Had she not added those last four words, it is certain that Sweetie Drops would have followed after her. But she realised she hadn’t had a day off in forever. The prospect filled her with guilty pleasure. On one hand, Lyra was new to town and it would be prudent of Sweetie Drops to give her a better tour than earlier. Yet Lyra seemed able to take care of herself. And with the time off, Sweetie Drops could clean the house and prepare for her guest and begin that new book she had wanted to read for so long. She bit into her hoof and followed after her regardless when she noticed the sack in the hall.
The lyre was in there, of course. Suspicion arose in Sweetie Drops as she bit into the sack. Such a valuable looking item… had she come by it honestly? Or was it pilfered loot? Suddenly her unexpected houseguest seemed more of a threat than a blessing. It could all be a confidence act. What had she gotten into? Respectable Sweetie Drops with her prestigious father and largest candy maker in Ponyville. She had let a common thief into her home!
She put the sack down on the designated couch. It was the farthest one to the right, and also her only one couch, right under the window. She had not meant to throw it so hard. The precious lyre clinked all the way down on her dark parquet floor. All colour left her face and became ice in her stomach. For one horrible moment it seemed that the lyre would surely break in two. But it was sturdier than it looked. Still, Sweetie Drops only carefully approached it again. She almost couldn’t touch it, but she had to lift it up to put it back in the sack. She held her breath as she slipped her hooves under it.
“What are you doing?” her father’s voice suddenly bellowed into her ears. Her past slipped into the present, and the lyre was a vase and the couch a mantelpiece. “That thing costs more than you could ever imagine.”
“I know, dad… I know.”
The present Sweetie Drops sighed heavily. Parents should be forbidden from having such a profound grip on their children so long after their death. She tried again and gently, gently lifted the lyre up to its rightful place in the sack. It was then that sunlight fell it. The golden surface gleamed brightly. Something was etched into the side near the bottom blinded her. She held up a hoof to shield her eyes and the words became less blurred.
“To: my one and only daughter, Lyra Heartstrings
Always remember that I love you no matter where you go
From: your father, Crescent Heartstrings.”
She read the words aloud and stood with the lyre in hoof, for a moment spellbound. The lyre was definitely Lyra’s. But was Lyra then her name? The possibility certainly remained in her mind but was pushed back from a more overwhelming sense of foolishness. She decided to leave it at that and returned her attention to the sack.
There was one more object in there. Sweetie Drops bit her lips. What else could that unicorn possibly have in there, squashed all the way in the back? She put the lyre down on the couch with its cushions like cough drops and its colour like a meringue and stuffed her hoof into the sack. It was soft, whatever it was, but oddly shaped.
What she drew from the sack was a plush, but resembling nothing she had ever seen before. It was not a pony, that was for sure. Its arms and legs and little head made it look like a strange starfish garbed in some purple outfit that covered all but its tan extremities and corn-blonde hair.
“What on earth?” Sweetie Drops exclaimed and rotated the crude doll in her hoof. It was nothing more than a sophisticated straw doll with crude stitches. Something a foal might make. A toy made by an adult for children would certainly have been smiling. Instead the black strings making up the face gave it a pained expression. She shook her head and put it back, along with the lyre. “I never saw this.”
The rest of the day went according to her strategy, but Lyra never returned home. Dinner came and went and still Sweetie Drops sat in her too large kitchen around her too large table with her too much food. With all the time she had in excess, she decided to go down in the basement to make some candies for the day after in hopes of sleeping longer. She returned to the kitchen a few hours later and found the extra plate licked clean. She could see Lyra sleeping on the couch over the half wall. A note was pinned to her horn. “Thank you for the hospitality, Bon Bon. I’ll sleep late tomorrow so go ahead, I’ll come along,” she read.
“Bon Bon? Wait… don’t just go and nickname me like that!” she shrieked, but Lyra merely turned in her sleep and smiled. Sweetie Drops could do nothing against a peaceful face like that but grunt.
It was getting late. For some reason she felt more tired despite having done less work. She turned in earlier than on a work day and almost couldn’t get herself rolled out of bed next morning. Only the prospect of not having any candy to make cheered her. Twenty minutes after waking up, with the morning sun already high in the sky, Sweetie Drops made ready for a new day.
Something swooped through the air. A golden chariot dragged by Celestia winged guards? “What do you think it could be?” Sweetie Drops lowered her gaze and saw Golden Harvest with a satchel of her own filled with carrots. “Looks like somepony important, don’t you think?”
“Probably,” Sweetie Drops muttered. The chariot flew lower and lower. It was definitely coming towards Ponyville. “But I should really be going. I already neglected my booth yesterday.”
“That’s unlike you. But we can just take a quick glimpse. How often are we going to see somepony this important?” Golden Harvest had already shrugged off her burden and galloped after the chariot. Many other ponies were getting the same ideas. All dropped what they had in their hoofs to follow the sudden spectacle. Such was the trust among country folk that they could leave their belongings and expect them to be there later. Even Sweetie Drops put down her booth and satchel by the fence and went after Golden Harvest.
“You’re coming to Summer Sun Celebration tomorrow, aren’t you?” Golden Harvest asked. “Princess Celestia will be visiting us this year.”
Sweetie Drops nodded. “Of course. I could hardly miss a festive occasion like that.” The mares paused to look around them. The chariot had vanished? No, they had just cut in front of it. There it was, flying down towards them. A purple unicorn jumped off with a dragon in tow. Sweetie Drops couldn’t help but smile. “What, it’s just a young unicorn. Do you think she is important?”
“Mm, I don’t doubt it,” Golden Harvest said serenely. The young unicorn didn’t notice them, however, so Golden Harvest turned back to Sweetie Drops. “A unicorn with mastery over a dragon. Just like out a fairy tale.”
“And it looks like Pinkie Pie is going to welcome her. I want to get my candies sold before she can invite us to a welcome party.”
“Yes, I’d better get to the market as well. The morning wears thin after all. You should come over more often. I hardly see you anymore now that you moved business to the park,” Golden Harvest said as they went back for their things. Indeed, it was all there. With a grunt Sweetie Drops put her burden back on her shoulders.
“I’m sorry, I’ll try and find the time.” Sweetie Drops waved goodbye and hurried towards the park. She had forgone the morning sales by sleeping in and now getting distracted by the mysterious arrival. Without Lyra’s music, however, it probably wouldn’t matter anyway.
As she neared the park, music could be heard though. At first she wondered if Lyra had beaten her to it. But the music did note come from a lyre. It was a saxophone if she had ever heard one. The crowd of people was as thick as that day Lyra had played and all the ponies in the park were huddling for the source of the music. Fear filled her limbs with ice cold water. On her usual spot stood a booth, but it wasn’t hers, it couldn’t be.
It was hard enough going with her disassembled stall on her back. Peeking up over all the heads was downright impossible. The smell was unmistakable though. Pancakes. Fear became anger. She gritted her teeth and pushed through the crowd. Unbelievable. Not only in the exact same spot as she had occupied the last few months. The saxophone player was even sitting right where Lyra had. “Sweetie Drops?” a voice called out. That sickening tone was unmistakable. Sure enough, a head with a chef’s hat on it peered up from a hotplate. “I became so worried that your spot was empty I just had to secure it. But now it seems I can’t move for customers.”
The speaker was an old mare with red coat and greying purplish mane. Sweetie Drops was already quavering from the bundle on her back, yet she managed to drag herself up through the line. “What a Strawberry Surprise… I thought you enjoyed my old spot in the market?”
The old mare laughed an innocent, grandmotherly laughter, revealing she had rubber gloves up both her arms as she raised a hoof to her muzzle. “Things were getting slow in the marketplace. That place is mostly for groceries anyway.” A stabbing glimpse flashed into her eyes as she turned them on Sweetie Drops. “And then I heard about this wonderful idea of yours.”
The burden was near flattening Sweetie Drops, but still she strained herself to remain standing, and speaking. “I left because somepony made a rumour about my stall’s health standards,” she said through gritted teeth. “Which turned out to be false, of course, but the others became so afraid of rats they kicked me out.”
The old mare shook her head and clicked her tongue. “What a shame we never found out who that was. I’d be sure to give the culprit a good whooping. Oh, you better run along now. You look like you could collapse any moment.” The customers pressed past Sweetie Drops and forced her away, like deluge carrying debris. The old mare lathered her pan with another batch of pancake fluid. Sweetie Drops had a few more choice words to say but the saxophone intensified and all the ponies shouted their orders for whipped cream and caramel and ice cream.
“Yeah, it was like that when I got here.”
Sweetie Drops finally rolled out and away to meet another familiar face, one that filled her with more comfort. She didn’t have to bother getting up, away from the din of music and yelling, but not from the smell of fresh pancakes with a cornucopia of condiments. Still she huffed and puffed with a face red more from anger than exertion. “I really… really… hate that pony.”
Lyra jumped down from her bench and played a little tune for Sweetie Drops lying on the dirt road, flattened by the weight of her collapsible booth. “Who is that pony anyway? She had nothing but backhanded comments about you when I told her it was your spot.” Lyra’s music invigorated Sweetie Drops enough to crawl out from under her bundle. Magic enveloped her satchel and a few candies flew up nonchalantly to Lyra’s mouth.
“My dad’s old competitor, head of a dozen committees and councils, old mare Strawberry Surprise. You don’t want to get on her bad side or she’ll make life sour for you.”
“What an old hag. She did all that just because she used to compete with your dad?”
Sweetie Drops brushed herself off and closed her satchel again before Lyra could plunder anymore. “Oh yeah, and more than just this… probably to his dad as well. She’s been around for a long time. Let’s just get home. By tomorrow, she’ll have that spot and saxophone player reserved for her.”
Lyra put her lyre away and instead used her magic to lift the bundle, with some strain. Sweetie Drops hastily placed herself underneath but Lyra put the burden down on them both. Synchronised they began walking. “Well you can’t just take it lying down. Isn’t there something you can do?” Lyra protested, but Sweetie Drops shook her head.
“What do you want me to do?” Sweetie Drops snapped. “She sits in the city council, she’s head of the park community and she’s an influential member of the market committee. Nothing gets done around here without her say-so.”
For a long time, neither pony said anything. Only when they had gotten home and placed the bundle up against the house wall did Lyra remember something.
“Oh yeah, this strange, curly-haired pony invited me to a party later tonight and told to pass on the invitation to you.” She turned her head abruptly towards Sweetie Drops before they could go in.
Sweetie Drops nearly fell on her behind with the suddenness. However, elation came over her mind with the words. “That would be Pinkie Pie throwing a party for the new arrival. It’s just what I need as well. Her parties are always fun. I swear, nothing else can go wrong today.”
***
“Not a word,” Sweetie Drops snapped and looked out into the darkness from the window. “When I said nothing else could go wrong, it was not an invitation.”
Lyra chuckled from somewhere behind her. With her horn light out, she could easily walk around the house undetected. She returned to the couch, her bed, with a piece of cake in mouth. “Cheer up, Bon Bon. I didn’t even know Princess Celestia had a sister.” Lyra nudged the cake towards Sweetie Drops, but she ignored it and rested her face against the window pane. “Well, arguably I didn’t follow well in school. Music has always been my interest.”
“It’s midafternoon, Lyra, and Ponyville is cast in eternal darkness. Can you at least act a little panicked? And why are you calling me Bon Bon?” she asked irritated. Lyra’s grinning face flashed up as her horn ignited in warm light again.
“It’s the first thing you gave me, remember? That bag of sweets. I didn’t know what to call you so I gave you that name.”
Sweetie Drops melted down the sofa and rested flatly on the pillows, in the darkness not seeing how close she was to Lyra. “My name was right there in large letters on the banner. It was even on the bag I gave you. Will you please just call me by my name?”
“You will always be Bon Bon to me! Tell me something, though. You don’t particularly seem all that enthusiastic about candy making.”
Somepony outside yelped from having run into something. The Moon was otherwise bright and bathed Ponyville in a pale light. “I’ll go light us some candles.” She left the couch and instantly heard the cake from earlier being munched on. “And no, I’m perfectly happy with making and selling candy.”
The munching accompanied her throughout the house as a weak light came on. Once the first candle had been lit it became easier find the rest. “You didn’t look happy, and you’ve taken every opportunity to skip out. Is your cutie mark even candy? It look more like little ribbon bows.” From a different room came the sound of banging into something. Lyra stretched her neck but could not see down the hall from her vantage point.
“My cutie mark is not ribbon bows! It’s wrapped candy!” she shrieked from far away, followed by irritated grunts of disentanglement and more crashes.
“Sure about that? Your sweets are good, but not talent-of-your-life good, you know?” She took a moment to enjoy the cake until at length Sweetie Drops returned with her hair flustered. “Why do you sell candy then, if it isn’t your talent?”
Sweetie Drops dusted herself off and got her mane back to its previous style.
“Such is just my lot in life, Lyra. I couldn’t possibly betray the company that my grandfather built up from the ground. It is not paying well but what else should I do?”
“What else should you do, you ask? Why I’ll tell you about a tradition older than any grandfather living or dead. Something called a cutie mark. It is not dictating what we should do with our lives, but advising us. So old is this tradition that its origins fade away into the mists of time and no one can tell whether ponies were blessed or born with it!” Lyra said, feeling the spirit of her inner poet rising up and strumming up a few notes on her lyre.
Waiting for her to finishing, Sweetie Drops sighed. “I know all that, but I swore to my father that I’d carry on. But… I’ve already lost the shop and my spot in the market, and now in the park as well. I could hardly dishonour him anymore by quitting the business,” she explained, but didn’t sit down next to Lyra. Instead she kept pacing nervously around the living room. The Moon was just outside the window with Nightmare Moon’s face imprinted on it, like she was watching over Ponyville.
Lyra looked up from her instrument, thoughtful for a long while, leaving Sweetie Drops to her pacing. At length she spoke again with the lyre next to her. “Parents can be so restrictive sometimes but it’s not in your talent to keep up the family business. I found many of the bits you earned from my playing thrown around the kitchen. You’re still afraid that you would be good at candy making. If you were, it would mean you’d never have to find your real talent.”
Sweetie Drops turned towards Lyra with trembling lips and tears streaming down her cheeks. Lyra, surprised, got up from the couch and got nearer. Sweetie Drops immediately threw herself around her and let out everything that had she bottled up over the years.
“I hate you! Why did you have to come here? I was so happy with how things were. I could just go to work every morning without worrying about liking my job but then you made me earn all those bits and then I realised I would be doing that job all my life even though I hate it. I hate it! My cutie mark isn’t candy wrappers, dad, it’s ribbons! Ribbons!”
For a long time she was allowed to bawl her eyes out over Lyra’s shoulder, until her heaving sobs became little sniffs. The sudden vision of her stern-faced father however made her jerk back. He simply stood in the dim light of the hallway leading to the large painting, shaking his head with that disapproving, disappointed glance he had always worn when looking at her. Sweetie Drops screamed hysterically and threw a vase from the dinner table at him. The white porcelain shattered on the rug behind him. All the water splashed and sent lavenders flying everywhere.
“Are you all right?” Lyra asked concerned and cocked her head slightly.
“I’m fine,” Sweetie Drops said a little too quickly and flicked her hair back in its place and wiped her eyes.
“You sure?”
Sweetie Drops stamped her hoof into the floor so Lyra jerked back. “I said I’m fine. Please forget what I said. I can’t believe I let all that out to a complete stranger.”
“Then, would you mind making me a promise? If this night ever ends, you will pursue your real talent and give up on your family business.” Lyra excitedly pressed her smiling face up against Sweetie Drops’, batting her eyelashes wildly.
Someone ran into something outside again, prompting another audible exclamation of pain. It distracted Sweetie Drops for a moment. Even as the echoes had died down she remained fixed on the window. Not like she could see outside anyway. “If it will amuse you, all right.” To quell Lyra’s rising enthusiasm, she hastily added: “Not like we have much hope against someone who defeated Celestia.”
Lyra grinned mischievously and darted down the hallway. “Hope is all we have, Bon Bon. It’s what makes us do the impossible.”
She disappeared into the dimness of the candles. Sweetie Drops stared uncomprehending after her, nervousness slowly creeping up her back. “W-wait, what do you mean?” she called out to her. “Where are you going?”
“When you want to make a change for a new life you need to have no regret,” Lyra responded from outside, but when Sweetie Drops got there, she was gone. As was her collapsible stall.
“Lyra, whatever it is you’re doing, don’t!”
But soon the crackle of fire alerted her to Lyra’s position. A sudden flare of light roared up against the sky. Sweetie Drops hurried around the house but it was too late. Her booth had become kindling for a bonfire in the middle of her stone terrace. The flames were getting dangerously close to her fold-out chairs and potted plants and outdoor table. She desperately went around the fire to push everything out of the way, but a sudden crackle made her retreat. Then she saw Lyra’s magic, hemming in the flames, making sure it didn’t get out control. Sweetie Drops parked her behind in the soft grass and Lyra sat down next to her. “You know, Lyra, I could maybe have used that stall for something else,” Sweetie Drops sat, her eyes mesmerised by the dancing of the flames. “I mean… I don’t even know yet what my talent is.”
Lyra snickered, keeping a few errant sparks away from the house. “Then you can make a new one in time, if you’re really going to need it.” For a long time the two mares simply sat in front of the spitting fire, swishing their tails back and forth, just enjoying the silence. At length Lyra spoke up again. “But don’t you remember how you got your cutie mark?”
Sweetie Drops hung her head in shame. She really couldn’t, but let the answer remain unspoken. For a little while longer they sat quietly again.
Day did return eventually. All the life that had been sucked out of the residents returned with it. Lyra extinguished the fire and joined the stampeding herd running towards the middle of town. Sweetie Drops sat a moment longer however. The smouldering booth represented her life up till that point. She had made a critical decision by letting Lyra in, and now all her bridges had been burned. There was no returning from that.
Yet a small smile crept up on her lips. Whatever would happen, she would be prepared for it. She knew, and sighed with what felt like a glimmer of hope for the first time in a long time. Come what may, it couldn’t leave her any worse off. And now she actually had someone to depend on and rely on. Who was Lyra? Where did she come from? What was she doing in Ponyville? What did it matter? She was like a part of Sweetie Drops’ life that she had been missing, and she hadn’t done her any harm yet. The Sun was shining for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. Sweetie Drops swept up the last ash and went towards the sounds of celebration.
