Requiem for a Belle

by theNDinspector

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life, Sweetie Belle, Sad, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Rarity, Other
Length: 8832

The life of a successful young singer can be very glamorous and rewarding, but often comes with great sacrifice. However, some sacrifices might be too much to handle.

Sweetie Belle has had great success so far in her career as a singer. It is a glamorous life. She travels all over Equestria, meets nobility, famous and common ponies alike, and spreads her special talent to all those who can enjoy it. However, great success often comes at great personal sacrifice. Is there a point where that sacrifice becomes too much for Sweetie Belle?

Author's Note: This story is meant to stand alone, but there are some key references to Love is in Bloom and to a short-story called Selfishness and Generosity written by Alaborn.

Published 2014-05-31 18:00:01 UTC
Last updated 2014-06-23 20:29:57 UTC

Tonight I Wanna Cry

Sweetie Belle sat in front of the freshly lit furnace, wrapped up in numerous towels and a large blanket. Normally, she would have wondered how ridiculous she looked, about how she must look like some sort of cloaked mummy—if it wasn’t for the contrasting colors of the towels. But she had other things on her mind at the moment. Not the least of which was guilt over barging in on Rarity so inconveniently. She planned on just walking in and not to disturb anypony so late at night, but the key wouldn’t work at all, so she had to knock. Now her sister was making a fuss over her well-being.

“I’m sorry about the door darling,” Rarity said, walking in with more towels and a steaming tea pot levitating behind her. “I had to change the locks last week. I was going to send you a key, but you didn’t leave an address to forward any mail to when you left. However, you probably wouldn’t have gotten it in time anyways.”

“Why did you change the locks?” Sweetie Belle asked, willfully submitting to Rarity removing the soaked towels and putting on fresh ones—a feeling she was all too used to after having styled for countless dresses over the years.

“Oh, somepony broke in about a week or so after you had left,” Rarity answered, replacing the blanket and throwing the wet towels into a hamper. “I’m fine, of course, and nothing was taken. The nerve of some ponies! Time used to be that you could sleep at night and leave your front door unlocked—not that I ever did with all of the valuable jewels and expensive clothes that I keep around the place. But Ponyville has changed a lot over the past few years. Some ponies have no respect for a mare’s privacy, and often result to petty thievery. I even had Twilight cast a spell so that nopony could pick the locks, use magic without the key, or teleport in.”

“Oh,” Sweetie Belle replied, taking the tea cup that Rarity offered her. It was a blend of herbal tea with mint—one of the few teas that she actually liked. While sipping it, she couldn’t help but wonder if the break-in was simply an invasion of Rarity’s personal property, or due to the fact that she often housed a celebrity in her home.

“Now, Sweetie Belle,” Rarity said, interrupting her thoughts. “What brings you here? I wasn’t expecting you to return for at least another month.”

Sweetie Belle shivered, and not from being soaked less than an hour ago. Rarity had just asked the one question that she was hoping never to answer. But she also knew that she needed to face it sooner or later.

“I...” she started, but the words died in her throat. After several failed attempts, she finally gave up and turned her head towards her saddle bags—which were still by the door.

Rarity got the hint and—realizing that her sister was all but trapped in a cocoon of cloth—levitated the bags over to her sister. Sweetie Belle used her own magic to open the bags, took out what appeared to be a soggy mess of papers and gave it to Rarity. Looking at it, Rarity realized that it was a newspaper from one of the cities Sweetie Belle performed in over the past few weeks. It was very water-damaged, but she could still make out the headline and parts of the article on the page.

A Travesty in Music

…while the vocals are the best part of the show, it is mediocre at best. The songs are uninspiring, the presentation is sub-par and the music and messages are unoriginal....Overall, Sweetie Belle’s success in at the beginning of her career can be attributed to a load of bandwagon hype fed by screaming, immature fans that seem to plague most artists of her generation.

As Rarity finished reading the legible parts of the article, she felt a surge of anger rise inside of her. She wanted to scream at the critic, saying that he wouldn’t know good music if it bit him in the flank. But she knew that yelling at a piece of paper wasn’t going to solve anything, no matter how good it might make her feel.

“Sweetie Belle,” Rarity said, finally collecting herself. “You can’t let the words of one critic get you down, even if he is a complete moron. It’s very uncouth for a fine pony such as yourself.”

“But he wasn’t the only one!” Sweetie Belle finally blurted out. “Every critic in every town wrote reviews like that! Some were a bit nicer and others were a lot harsher, and they were all negative. Nopony liked my show! Maybe I really am burning out!”

“Now, Sweetie Belle, I’m sure you’re just overreac-”

“I CAN’T EVEN SING MY OWN SONGS!” Sweetie Belle screamed.

She then proceeded to sing a couple of songs. Rarity’s ears winced in pain. It sounded like a train wreck overlapped with a hoof running down the chalkboard.

“How can this be?” She thought. “I’ve heard her sing these songs dozens of times, and she’s always had a lovely voice.”

It took a moment for Rarity to realize when Sweetie Belle was done. Trying to act like it wasn't that bad, she looked up. She noticed that Sweetie Belle was sobbing now, completely burying herself in the towels—even more than she already was at any rate.

“Sweetie Belle, darling,” Rarity finally said in her singsong voice, putting her hoof around the pile of cloth covering her sister. “It’s been a long night and a terrible past couple of weeks for you. You’re probably just exhausted and a little sick from standing in the rain for too long. Why don’t you go and clean yourself up and head straight to bed? Your room’s been tidied up, but otherwise it’s just the way you left it. I’ll take care of everything here. You don’t need to worry about a thing. What you need now is some rest.”

“Okay,” Sweetie Belle said after a couple of whimpers.

With that, Rarity helped remove the entanglement of towels and Sweetie Belle went upstairs. Rarity then proceeded to go through her sister’s bags and lay things out to dry. Everything was soaked, and some of it muddy. Several of the dresses Rarity had made for her were completely ruined. She made a mental note to lay out some designs and patterns for new dresses later that day.

She also found more newspaper articles. What Sweetie Belle had said about them was true. Rarity had the urge to just throw them in the fire, but she didn't. Instead, she set them out do dry too, despite the fact that they were practically illegible now anyways.

Even negative criticism is important for any artist, if not more so than any praise or encouragement. Yes, a large majority of negative criticism could be a result of some ponies simply not having the same taste for art—or that they just didn't get it—but a lot of it could still be used to learn from. It provided opportunities to grow, to improve and to try new things or different methods.

Rarity knew this. There were in deed some ponies out there that didn't care for her work in the slightest—both in the elite and among the general populace. But she continued to follow her passion, continually striving to please the customer while staying true to herself. Now Sweetie Belle would have to learn the same things, but it wouldn't come all at once. Still, Rarity couldn't help but wonder if her sister was still hiding something; if there was something deeper bothering her.

“Is it possible that she knows…nah, she couldn't have heard about that yet. They haven’t even told her.” Rarity concluded, before walking upstairs and returning to her own bed for the night.

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.”

The Thunder Rolls

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.

Author's Note

Whoa, who knows where this is going to go? Okay, actually I do.

There are still a few things I would like to expand on in a couple of upcoming chapters, but I would like to take this moment to thank Alaborn for allowing me to expand upon an idea he (or she) introduced in a story called "Selfishness and Generosity" regarding Sweetie Belle's and Rarity's parents. If you haven't read that story yet then I highly recommend that you do so—especially if you were confused by the behavior of their parents in this story. This is my interpretation, and Alaborn is still free to do whatever she (or he) wants with it; should Alaborn decide to do so.

On a further note, not everyone would react to the news of someone getting a divorce like Sweetie Belle did in this chapter. There can be many ways at different levels of intensity. It was just the way that I though fit well with her character, and it will be expanded on. If you didn't like anything as portrayed here, please explain why in the comments; I am interested in your opinions.

Listen To Your Heart

“Miss Belle, you’ve been in there for over a week, is everything okay?”

“Are you planning on returning to your career as a singer, or is this the end?”

“Do you have any words regarding the criticism and backlash from your recent tour, or the speculation that music these days is nothing but hype?”

“How was the time that you spent alone with your sister Rarity?”

Sweetie Belle hadn’t gone five steps out of the Carousal Boutique before she was swarmed with reporters—all asking various questions that they’d been denied answers this whole time.

“Do they really have nothing better to do?” She thought, before remembering that this was their job and she had been the biggest source of news and speculation for the past week.

As she looked at the small group of ponies in front of her—all eagerly waiting for some reply—she decided to respond in a way to satisfy them without having to stay there for too long.

“I am feeling much better thanks to the care that Rarity, my sister, gave while I was ill,” Sweetie Belle stated, once she had everypony’s attention. I currently haven’t decided on any plans for returning yet, nor do I have any comments regarding what has been said about my latest tour.

“Right now, I just need some time to think. So if you’ll excuse me I’m going for a walk.”

With that, Sweetie Belle left the small crowed and started walking down the streets. Most of the reporters seemed satisfied with her words, but some still followed her—trying to get a larger scoop. They were soon discouraged; seeing that Sweetie Belle was indeed just going for a walk—doing nothing else of interest.

Soon, Sweetie Belle walked into the park; thankful to be at least somewhat alone. She sighed as she found a secluded part of the park and sat down. She didn’t know how long she sat there, lost in her thoughts.

“Is Rarity right?” She thought. “She has to be. They’ve never intentionally tried to hurt me. They…they?…Mom and Dad! Oh, what have I done?”

She started crying. Thanks to the secluded spot she had chosen, nopony was around to see her in such a distraught state. Well, almost nopony.

“Sweetie Belle, is that you?” A very familiar voice came from behind her.

Sweetie Belle turned and saw a magenta earth-pony standing behind her, with three smiling flowers on her flank.

“Miss Cheerilee,” Sweetie Belle said, trying to wipe the tears from her eyes. “How long have you been there?”

“Long enough,” Cheerilee said. “I’m no longer your teacher, so you don’t have to call me ‘Miss.’ Also, I’m married now, but that’s beside the point. What’s the matter?”

“You mean you don’t know?” Sweetie Belle asked.

“Not really,” Cheerilee replied. “I read about what happened on your tour in the newspaper, so I imagined that had something to do with it. I meant to come over, but your sister had done everything short of digging a moat around the Carousel Boutique and filling it with alligators in order to keep ponies away.”

Sweetie Belle couldn’t help but smile for what had to be the first time in ages. Just the idea of Rarity—a mare that hated anything to do with dirt—digging a wide trench around her home, filling it with water and putting large, feral creatures in it was just too much for her to stay in a sour mood. But that joy was short-lived as she came back to reality; her former teacher was standing there asking about the most painful parts of her recent life.

Sweetie Belle looked up at Cheerilee, who was waiting patiently for an answer. She also remembered her sister’s words earlier that afternoon:

“It never did anypony any good to bottle up their thoughts.”

She sighed, and started telling Cheerilee the entire story; from the day she left Ponyville after Apple Bloom’s wedding to Rarity’s recent lecture that day. It was hard at first, but once Sweetie Belled opened up, she found it was nearly impossible to stop. All the while, Cheerilee listened, hanging on to every word and never interrupting Sweetie Belle.

“I guess I came home in the first place because I felt like my special talent had become meaningless,” Sweetie Belle said with tears in her eyes. “But when my parents told me that they were getting divorced, I felt shattered…like I had been lied to my entire life. I hated them for it. I even took my anger out on Rarity, after all that she has done for me. But now I feel like I’m the one that tore them apart.”

Cheerilee considered the crying mare before her and everything that she said. She knew very well about how prone to anger Sweetie Belle could get towards certain problems—and how it often led her to do things she later regretted. Cheerilee gave Sweetie Belle a reassuring hug.

“Its okay, Sweetie Belle,” she said softly. “Terrible things happen to everypony, and we often say things we want to take back. Admitting our mistakes is the first step in healing, but we also need to reconcile with those involved. Will you talk with you parents and your sister about this?”

Sweetie Belle was quiet for a moment before saying, “Yes.”

“Good,” Cheerily responded, letting Sweetie Belle go. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to pick up Lil’ Mac before he terrorizes Pinkie Pie much further and eats the rest of her party streamers. I’m not sure what it is with that young colt and ribbons.”

“But what do I say?” Sweetie Belle called out to Cheerilee.

Cheerilee stopped and thought about the question for a moment.

“I don’t know,” she said, looking back at her former student. “I’ve never been in this situation before. I guess the best thing to do is to listen to what your heart tells you. I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful.”

“It’s okay…thanks,” Sweetie Belle said, feeling rather helpless.

With that, Cheerilee walked down the path. Sweetie Belle watched as her former school teacher left. She looked towards the sun and noticed that evening was fast approaching. Sighing, she got up and started walking again—but in no particular direction.

“What am I going to say?” She wondered. “How can they forgive me?”

Through her wandering, Sweetie Belle found herself downtown in Ponyville. Many ponies were closing up shop—eager to return home. But there was something else, something that drew Sweetie Belle once she heard it. Curious, she looked back and forth for the source of the sound.

Finally she found it. In the town square was a small group of musicians—playing various instruments. They were no Royal Canterlot Symphony, or any other prestigious orchestra, but they were still very good in their own right. They played a simple tune—probably due to their small numbers and the lateness of the day. Yet, despite the simplicity of it, Sweetie Belle could feel the heart and love they had for the music they made.

One thing that Sweetie Belle learned while attending Canterlot University was that almost anyone could hit the notes in a piece of music—whether if they were trained, talented or purely coincidental—and make it sound…decent. Yet there was this mysterious force behind music that made you feel it more than listen to it; a force that made good music great. It was especially noticeable in singers. When a singer understood the song—its lyrics and message—and felt it during her performance, then the audience would often feel it too.

Sweetie Belle listened to the small ensemble: feeling the rhythmic tones, the syncopated notes and harmonic melodies. But soon, it had to end, and the musicians put away their instruments—chatting about the wonderful time they had. Only then did Sweetie Belle finally turn away.

“Is that what I missed?” She wondered. ”Did I not feel the love and joy of music like I used too?”

As she walked, she felt something itch inside of her head. She tried shaking it, but it remained and grew. It was simple, yet elegant; it had a lyrical quality to it. She recognized it as on of the lullabies her mom used to sing to her as a filly. The lullaby was one of her favorites—she even created her own version using a completely different style of music once. Yet, as she hummed the melody, it was the way in which her mother always sang. Soon, she actually started singing it.

Hush now. Quiet now, it’s time to lay your sleepy head.
Hush now. Quiet now, it’s time to go to bed.

Drifting off to sleep; the exciting day behind you.
Drifting off to sleep; let the joy of dreamland find you.

Hush now. Quiet now, it’s time to lay your sleepy head.
Hush now. Quiet now, it’s time to go to bed.

When she finished, Sweetie Belle couldn’t help but feel immense joy. She felt like she hadn’t sung like that in a long time. Some might have explained it away as being simple. Yet Sweetie Belle knew that it was because the song was sentimental; that it meant something to her. She could feel the love in every word and the joy in every note. It was perfect in every way.

Then Sweetie Belle turned the corner and realized just where she was. She hadn’t been paying attention to where she was going—especially when she was singing. Yet, here she was; in a familiar neighborhood and a very familiar house at the end of the road and near the river where her dad liked to fish—for some strange reason.

Sweetie Belle stared at the house; her house. Apprehension was building up inside of her. She still didn’t know what to say, or what to do. After what felt like an eternity, she finally walked up to the house. Sighing, she knocked on the door.

How Sweet the Sound

“ACHOO!!!”

Rarity was in the midst of putting some of her father’s trophies and memorabilia into boxes. Normally it wouldn’t have been a big deal for her, except these items were completely covered in dust. No matter how carefully she moved them—even using her magic—the dust always got disturbed and became a severe irritation to her eyes and nose.

“Father, don’t you ever dust these things?” Rarity asked while rubbing her itchy eyes.

“I guess I haven’t,” her father replied. “Besides, I’ll probably just get rid of these, they’re not really the best moments I’ve had in my life.”

“You mean that I have been working on this for the better part of an hour—risking getting dirty and suffering from allergies—JUST SO THAT YOU CAN THROW THEM AWAY?!” Rarity yelled, followed by another sneeze.

“Don’t worry about it, dear,” Rarity’s mother said, coming in with a tissue for her daughter. “He’s always saying that, but he never actually does it. Anyways, how is Sweetie Belle doing?”

“Better, I suppose,” Rarity said after blowing her nose with much satisfaction. “She’s no longer sick, but she is still very angry about not being told about…your divorce earlier. I tried to talk to her about it, but she won’t open up. Then she went for a walk to clear her mind. I haven’t seen her all afternoon.”

“I knew we should have told her earlier,” Rarity’s father said.

“No, you said we should wait until we actually decided to get a divorce before telling her!” Rarity’s mother angrily accused.

“Only because you said that she deserved a normal foalhood!” Rarity’s father snapped back.

“To which you agreed to!” Rarity’s mother stated, pointing a hoof at the stallion.

“Mother, Father; STOP IT!” Rarity yelled, stomping her fore hooves on the ground. “Arguing about it is not going to change what happened!”

Rarity glared at her parents, looking positively menacing. However, the moment was unceremoniously ended by another sneezing fit due to the box she had knocked over in her outburst.

Knock knock knock

“Don’t worry, I’ll get it,” Rarity’s mother said, leaving her soon-to-be ex-husband and her violently sneezing daughter in the room.

As she made her way to the door, Mrs. Belle tried to make herself look a little more presentable—not that anypony would have really cared. Then she opened the door and words completely left her.

“Sweetie Belle?” She gaped at the sight of her daughter. “Come in…you know, you don’t have to knock.”

Sweetie Belle didn’t say anything as she walked past her mother. She also didn’t look at her either.

Is she still mad? Mrs. Belle thought.

“Is Dad home?” Sweetie Belle asked, noticing the boxes all around the house.

There was no anger in her voice, nor any sign of resentment. Instead, Sweetie Belle sounded…tired. There was also some sadness in the air.

“Yes,” her mother replied. “Your sister is here too. She has been helping him pack some of his things away all evening.”

Sweetie Belle was quiet for a moment. She still didn’t know what to do exactly. Finally, she looked into her mother’s face. There was a look of worry on it, yet it was still lovely—even if her mother never thought so.

“Can we talk?” Sweetie Belle finally asked. “All of us?”

“Sure,” her mother said. “I’ll go and get them. Why don’t you sit down?”

Mrs. Belle sat Sweetie Belle down on the couch in the living room. She then left to go get everypony else. Soon they all walked in—her father actually not wearing his ugly shirt for once. And then there was Rarity: her mane disheveled, eyes puffy and red, and a tissue desperately trying to wipe away the snot from her runny nose.

Wow, she looks worse than me! Sweetie Belle thought.

“Don’t mind me, I’m just irritated by Dad’s dusty junk,” Rarity said in a nasally voice followed by another fit of sneezing.

“You should go wash your face, darling,” Mrs. Belle said. “It should help, but come right back.”

“Okay,” Rarity said and then headed for the bathroom.

“So how are you feeling Sweetie?” Mr. Belle asked.

“Better,” Sweetie Belle finally said, but she still couldn’t look him in the eye.

An awkward silence filled the room. Nopony quite knew what to say; especially since they hadn’t left on good terms during their last meeting.

Oh, why does this have to be so hard? Sweetie Belle complained to herself.

Rarity came back. She was a little damp now, but definitely a lot better than she did a moment ago—even though her eyes were still red. Somehow, her presence only added to the awkwardness and Sweetie Belle’s inner turmoil.

Finally, Sweetie Belle couldn’t take it anymore and started to try and say something.

“I…uh…I just wanted to say…um…Aaargh!” she started before taking a deep breath and looking at the ponies in the room. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything I did.”

She looked at her sister, “Rarity, I’m sorry for being mad at you; even after everything that you’ve done for me.”

Sweetie Belle then looked at her parents, her feeling of guilt rising ever higher.

“I’m sorry for saying that you didn’t love us,” she sobbed. “I’ve been selfish. I felt useless after failing my fans and getting sick, but I forgot the ponies that were the most important to me. I felt…abandoned…like I was being lied to all my life. But I realize that it was dumb. You’ve done so many things for me…I…I’m sorry.”

Sweetie Belle started crying once again. It surprised her that she still had any tears left after all the crying she had been doing earlier that day—let alone the past week. All the other ponies in the room watched as the youngest unicorn completely broke down—none of them really knew what to do. Strangely enough, her father was the one to break the silence.

“We’ve all done things we regret, Sweetie Belle,” Mr. Belle said. “I know that I’ve had my fair share of disappointments and failures.”

He paused for a moment; searching for the words he wanted to say. “I’ll tell you one thing I’ll never regret though—you. You and your sister.

“Rarity,” Mr. Belle continued, looking at his other daughter. “I told you earlier that those trophies were not the best moments in my life. That’s because they aren’t. You and Sweetie Belle are. You two are the greatest and most wonderful mares that I have had the privilege of raising and to be called your father. You are the lights in my life and have given me purpose; along with your dear mother.”

He looked towards the pink unicorn in the room. “While I do regret that we will no longer be a part of each other’s lives like we once were, I do not regret meeting her; nor the time which we spent together these many years. Together, we have accomplished many things—the greatest of which is you two.”

“I agree,” Mrs. Belle added, tears running down her face. “And while things will change now for all of us, one thing that won’t change is that we will always be here for you. Now matter how far away you may be, or what may happen, we will always love you.”

Sweetie Belle sat there for a moment. She was at a loss for words from her parents declarations. She felt as though a large burden had just been taken from her aching body and that a warm sensation was enveloping her; lifting her up.

“I love you too,” she said with a smile creeping onto her face.

“As do I,” Rarity said, with even more tears in her eyes now.

Without prompting, the four unicorns found themselves contently in each other’s forelegs. All in a loving and quiet embrace for what might be the last time. Sweetie Belle would always cherish her father’s words, her mother’s love and her sister’s support. While her family may be broken, it was still her family; and nothing would ever change that.

Author's Note

Well, here we are at the end. I hope you found this as a satisfactory conclusion.

I would like to thank Alaborn again for supporting me on expanding on his/her story "Selfishness and Generosity." Once again, this is my interpretation of events following that open-ended story, and Alaborn is still free to do whatever he/she sees fit with it. I'd also like to thank Alaborn for being one of my inspirations to start writing stories about "My Little Pony" on this site.

As always, I'd like to hear your thoughts, so please leave them in the comments bellow.

The Midnight Train Going Anywhere

A solitary train steadily moved across the Equestrian landscape. Most of the ponies inside were fast asleep due to the lateness of the hour. There was, however, one passenger aboard who couldn’t sleep. Instead, she stared out the window—not that she could see anything in the blackness of the night.

Sweetie Belle sighed. She had gotten all too used to these long, overnight train rides. Ever since her career as a singer hit off outside of Ponyville, she found herself traveling all over Equestria from city to city. Many of which she had heard of, but there were a few she didn’t know. All of them were completely new to her a few years ago—outside of Canterlot, where she attended a musical arts program at the university.

It was a pretty glamorous life. She often got to meet royalty and other very important or famous ponies. And she also got to spread her special talent in music to all ponies. She particularly enjoyed performing for—what some would call—the common ponies, to which she identified the most with given her humble roots in Ponyville. Yet, despite her background, she had become a nation-wide sensation—much like Sapphire Shores.

Sweetie Belle loved her career and how she spread joy and other emotions through her music. She enjoyed the privilege of knowing many high class ponies, as well as connecting with the mass population. She also knew that many ponies coveted the type of life she lived and the position that she held in the eyes of society. But even with all of this knowledge, she still sometimes felt a pang of emptiness at night—particularly ones on lonely train rides like tonight.

The success that Sweetie Belle enjoyed, however, came with a price. She couldn’t have much of a social life, or even a personal one, without being subject to paparazzi and their mostly outlandish headliners about her choices or what she was “really doing.” Even most of the stallions she dated seemed more interested in her fame or prestige rather than her personally. But the biggest issue for Sweetie Belle was that her touring schedule drew her away from her family and friends for several weeks at a time. She would miss a lot of personal events like birthdays or other celebrations. She would take the Hearthswarming holiday off, like many other ponies, but in her opinion that still didn’t make up for all the lost times.

One event Sweetie Belle refused to miss, however, was the wedding of one of her dearest friends. She had always wondered when Apple Bloom and Wood Frame, the stallion she worked with, would finally come together. When the wedding invitation finally came, she worked hard with her manager to rearrange her schedule to get that week off. Plus it was completely irresistible to see Scootaloo, one of Equestria’s premier stuntponies and total tomcolt, in a dress! The rare sight only happened a few times before: once at a royal wedding where they were the flower-fillies—for reasons still largely unknown to Sweetie Belle—and then the wedding of Miss Cheerilee and Big Mac. Then there were the occasional dances and proms that Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom managed to coerce her into going, mostly thanks to a crush on a certain grey pegasus stallion named Rumble.

Sweetie Belle enjoyed the time she was able to spend with her friends and family, supporting Apple Bloom in this changing moment of her life as one of her bride’s maids. It was a wonderful week, reminding her of old times from their fillyhoods, but it had to come to an end some time. That time came the night after the ceremony. She had to leave to go to the north-western region of Equestria and continue her tour. In fact, this very train was taking her there right now, far away from those she loved. The tangible moments enjoyed at the wedding now fading to a happy memory.

Sweetie Belle sighed.

“Well, things aren’t all bad,” she thought. “I’m going to a new place and share my talent with new ponies.”

She finally got up and retired to the sleeper car. She went to one of the beds, exhaustion falling over her from the exciting events of the wedding several hours earlier. She rested her head, making herself as comfortable as she could in the cramped and very stiff sleeping space.

“Yes,” she thought, before drifting off to sleep. “It’s going to be a good trip.”

***

Stormy weather was scheduled in Ponyville a few weeks after Apple Bloom’s wedding. Due to unexpected complications in the weather factory earlier in the year, several overnight rain showers were scheduled to make up for the drought. This caused some young colts and fillies to be upset about being cooped up inside, but since it was night, they simply slept though most of the downpour.

There was, however, one pony that was finding it hard to sleep with the constant drumming of raindrops outside. Then she realized that the drumming wasn’t coming from the rain, but rather her front door. She looked at her alarm clock on the night stand. 2:14 a.m. She went back to bed, ignoring the knocking at the door, hoping that whoever it was would realize their folly, go away and return at a more respectable hour. However, the knocking persisted. She groaned.

“ALL RIGHT, I’M COMING!” Rarity yelled, throwing off the sheets and reaching for her robe and slippers. She then lit a candle and carried it with her magic.

“Do you have any idea of what time it is?” The fashionistà yelled as she descended the stairs to the main floor of the Carousel Boutique. “A mare needs her beauty sleep! Why, I have half a mind to….Sweetie Belle?”

Rarity’s anger was replaced by confusion as she opened the door, revealing the sight of her younger sister on the doorstep, with only a couple of pieces of luggage and her saddlebags. Sweetie Belle was completely soaked, though not all of it was because of the rain. Her head was downcast, and eyes red and puffy, looking completely pathetic.

“Hi Rarity,” Sweetie Belle said in a quiet, and somewhat croaky, voice. “May I stay with you tonight?”

Never Took This Road Before

Nearly a week had passed since Sweetie Belle’s parents told her that they were getting a divorce, turning her life upside-down. Rarity had tried to console her sister, but it only led to more problems. Once Sweetie Belle found out that Rarity had known about the problems between their parents for years, she flipped out even further.

Now Sweetie Belle had isolated herself even more than before. Rarity rarely saw her leave her room except around meal times—and even then Sweetie Belle only came out when she felt like doing so, got some food and immediately returned to her room. So it came as a shock to Rarity one early afternoon to find her sister sitting at the kitchen table. She was looking better, and her mane was brushed—though not quite to showpony standards. But something was still off.

“Sweetie Belle, what is that wretched smell?” Rarity asked, scrunching up her nose at a malodorous substance that was right in front of her sister.

“Juice,” Sweetie Belle noncommittally replied.

Rarity took a closer look at the charcoal-grey substance in the glass, and confirmed that there was an empty juice container in the trash can.

“Oh,” Rarity said. “I see you’ve managed to burn juice again.”

Sweetie Belle didn’t respond, choosing instead to stare off into space as she had been the entire morning.

“You know, you can’t keep doing this Sweetie Belle,” Rarity stated. “It never did anypony any good to bottle up their thoughts.”

Sweetie Belle remained silent. Dejected, Rarity turned to the fridge to try and find something to eat as well.

“Why, Rarity?” Sweetie Belle finally asked.

Rarity turned. “Well, I’m not sure on the science behind it; but it seems that if you keep your feelings bottled up, then-“

“No, not that,” Sweetie Belle interrupted. “I mean, why didn’t Mom and Dad tell me about their problems after they had told you? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Probably because you were young, dear,” Rarity sighed. “They didn’t want you to worry about such things at that age. They wanted you to be happy and not burden you with this. I even had to make a Pinkie Pie Promise, so I couldn’t tell you. They wanted to tell you, in person, if things didn’t work out between them; as opposed to finding out due to some rumors.”

“But it feels even worse now,” Sweetie Belle said, beginning to tear up. “It feels as though my entire life has been a lie: the time we spent together, the hugs and kisses…the love. All lies!”

Rarity looked at her sister and how she was crying. She felt her own eyes begin to water up too.

“I’m not going to pretend that Mother and Father made the best decision in not telling you sooner,” Rarity admitted. “But it was what they wanted, and I had to respect their wishes.”

“But why would they get divorced?” Sweetie Belle sobbed. “Why would anypony get divorced?”

The kitchen was silent as Rarity pondered the question—its heavy weight still hanging in the air. Then Rarity sighed.

“It could be any number of reasons,” she finally said. “After our parents told me about their problems, I researched the topic and statistics on divorce. Nearly fifty-percent of marriages these days end in divorce: Most of them happened because the ponies weren’t committed to the marriage. Several ended because of infidelity, and a few others from spousal abuse—probably the few reasons where divorce might be understandable and proper. Some married too young or too fast; on a whim. Some ponies were obliged to marry—or maybe forced to—after some foolish choice they made beforehoof that often resulted in serious consequences. And for some…love just dies.”

Rarity paused for a moment to wipe away the tears from her eyes—mainly out of habit, but it was a futile gesture.

“I suppose that’s what happened to Mom and Dad,” Rarity continued, reverting to more colloquial terms. “I really tried to help them make it work. I encouraged them to keep on seeing marriage counselors and to never give up. With all the things I’ve been able to accomplish—or help with—in my life, I honestly thought I could help keep their marriage from falling apart.”

Rarity sighed, “But I guess there are some things that can’t be fixed; no matter how much effort you put into it.”

Sweetie Belle shifted in her seat. Somehow, this information was making her feel even more resentful than comforted. Although, it wasn’t a pleasant subject to begin with.

“But why would they lie for all these years?” Sweaty Belle asked.

“Sweetie Belle, that isn’t fair!” Rarity replied, feeling deeply hurt by her sister’s accusation. “Mom and Dad tried to make it work, and were happy for quite some time. Just because their love for each other ended doesn’t mean that it was never there! They cared for us, protected us and taught us what we needed to know to live in this world. Mom even sang you lullabies when you were little and tucked you into bed. Are all those lies?”

“No,” Sweetie Belle admitted, bowing her head.

“Thank you,” Rarity said, exasperated. Then she calmed down before continuing. “It’s going to take time to get used to, Sweetie Belle. Even I’m still trying to adjust. But it is no reason to hold a grudge.”

Sweetie Belle was silent, letting the last words of Rarity’s rebuke sink in. She then got up, deliberately discarded her burnt juice and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Rarity asked.

“For a walk,” Sweetie Belle answered. “I really need to clear my head.”

With that, Sweetie Belle left; leaving Rarity behind to watch her depart—stomach growling due to the extremely delayed lunch.