Broken Heartstrings

by Cenitopius

Rating: everyone
Tags: Sad, Lyra, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Adventure, Slice of Life
Length: 2288

When Lyra's heartstrings break, how much tension can she handle?

Bonbon and Lyra have had an argument, but Lyra has been handed the butt end of it. How will she handle the stress?

Published 2012-05-21 05:54:01 UTC
Last updated 2012-12-05 17:48:11 UTC

'Thank-you's and 'Goodbye's

Broken Heartstrings
Inspired by 'Lyra's Lesson', by Lynked, secondarily inspired by 'Background Pony', by Shortskirtsandexplosions.
Started without any Idea of what will follow, other than the fact that it will include Lyra.
***********
The First String: Thank-you's and goodbyes

She sat. She just didn't know what to do, anymore. She was completely abandoned. She had fought with Bonbon, and in doing so, had cut off her last friend. Her last friend in the world.

She paced down the streets of Ponyville, the night time moon her only companion, denying all offers to help her, as everypony could see that she had tears in her eyes, and that she was more than troubled. She didn't need sympathy, as such, she needed a friend. Not just any friend, either. She needed someone that she could trust. Someone that wouldn't leave her. Someone who would stay by her side.

Stay by my side.

Someone who she could rely on.

Rely on me.

Someone who would stop at nothing to mend her broken heart.

Broken heart.

It shattered. She fell, landing on her underbelly. She realised that she hadn't just liked Bonbon; she might just of... loved her.

She felt absolutely crushed. How could she of let this happen? She had spent so long with people going on about how kind she was, only to see them leave her. And when they left, she was alone. Almost alone.

There was always Bonbon.

Until now. Now, you've blew it. You're done. No-one to turn to, what do you do?

When you're all alone, what do you do? What do ponies do, when there's nothing for them. No, what do I do, when there's nothing for me?

You play the Lyre.

Weather that was an answer or a statement, that her mind had just plucked up, she knew that it was going to be the foundation of how she would get by.

And so, in the cold air, under the dark sky, of the night, she pulled out the Lyre from her bags, she pulled it out, and she played. She played slowly at first, letting her heartbeat be the tempo, letting herself play the night away.

Flying past her, one after another, the notes of all her favourites swirled around her head, slowly but surely, creating a vortex, a tornado of music in her head, pulling in all her troubles and spitting them out to someplace far away. Someplace where she'll never find them.

She didn't have to worry about the troubles that had occurred; she could simply close her eyes, and play.

She played Fur Elise, The Four Seasons, Requiem for the Lost Ones, Air, she played a medley of every song that she knew, all while spinning on the spot, slowly pacing round, finally ending with the last notes of Beethoovens 'Moonlight Sonata', as quiet as she could, for no-one else need hear this, it being her personal favourite.

She opened her eyes, to find a huge crowd of ponies, all staring at her open mouthed, some with hooves raised but an inch above the floor, who had stopped mid-trot to listen to her play, to watch her cry, smile, frown and laugh to every piece that she played, only when she had finished playing, quiet though she was, did she notice anyone.

She even saw ponies in nighting gowns, who had obviously came from their houses, from their beds, to hear her play.

Finally, stepping back a few paces, she noticed a small pile of glittering, yellow metal in her peripheral vision. She turned so as to face it, finally recognising it for what it was; someone had placed their top hat on the floor as a container for donated bits.

She felt angry, happy, exhilarated, shocked, scared, friendly, betrothed and confused, all at the same time, but one thing that she didn't feel was alone. She was with people that cared about her, that respected her, that where generous to her.

She noticed two someponies in particular, someone she recognised, as she choked on her own saliva in shock. She saw the pony who's respect mattered most to her, stood next to the pony who's generosity was likely the cause of the top hat on the floor, or the pile of bits.

She saw Rarity, purple mane and all, who was well known for being the element of generosity, and she saw Bonbon, utterly dumbstruck.

She thought back, to the argument that they had; who had caused it? Who had taken it too far? Was it Bonbon? Or was it her, Lyra?

She decided, she decided then and there, noticing a few more of the elements of harmony; Twilight Sparkle, Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie, she decided that Bonbon had been the one to cause it. She decided that she didn't need Bonbon. She could earn enough money to buy a house, to get by on her own.

She went up to Bonbon, and she did something that she thought she would never do. She did something that she would feel no shame for, even though she did it in front of all these other ponies, in front of four of the Elements of Harmony.

She went up to Bonbon, and she cried. She cried and she slapped her across the face, as hard as she could, which wasn't all that hard, since her emotions and her playing had drained her of most of her strength.

She Slapped Bonbon, and then she walked up to the doorstep of the house she was playing in front of, she stood on it, she turned around to her audience, and she spoke.

"Thank you all, for watching me, and for being so generous in all your donations. Today, I have felt every emotion possible, and as much as I felt good about slapping Bonbon, I owe to her the heart of my melody; the broken heart, of my melody, I owe to her, also, the fact that I am out here, on the streets, playing the Lyre for money.

"My Heartstrings have been played, they have been worn, and finally, they have snapped. So once again, I thank you all for the charitable donations that you have offered, though I do not think that I deserve them, because I simply played my heart. I played my heart, and I played my life, and all together, I played my own, worn, broken, second-hand heartstrings.

"So to Rainbow Dash, who has seen a pony in need, and has loyally stopped to watch over her, letting her struggle only because there was a lesson involved, and to Rarity, who has been generous enough to start the donations without being asked, and to Pinkie Pie, who has seen a pony without enough laughter in her life, and has stayed by to help, and finally to Twilight Sparkle, who has stayed and listened to my music, after feeling the magic inside of it, I thank you. All four of you. And the rest of you, too.

"I will never forget you, or the rest of the town, and I thank you all for all the bits. Everypony, thank you."

And with that, she picked up and walked on. A quick glance at the moon told her that it was midnight, or thereabouts, and so she trotted off, out along the path that headed to Canterlot. She trotted off, thinking:
I may have Broken Heartstrings, but they can be mended and tuned, and can therefore be played once again.

With that, she broke into a canter, stopping halfway along the road to the capital city of Equestria to sleep on the sidewalk.

Waiting for Nothing

Broken Heartstrings

The Second Melody: Waiting for Nothing

If you're here as a follower, you'll probably figure that reading back through this has really tickled me, and really pissed me off, too, given recent events, and so I am writing more on. This was my second fiction, and so the first chapter was not written up to scratch, and that means that it won't flow in to the second as well as other stories.
On that note, I give you The Second Melody. Have a good time.

~~~

She awoke from a dream of a war inside her body, ponies swirling around her heart like love and hatred, music flowing from the clashes, a series of tear-jerking tunes leaving the heartbroken mare with sore eyes on her wake-up call.

Lyra lifted her head off of the base of her Lyre, which she'd used as a pillow over the night, and looked up to the sunrise.

Celestia's life giving ball of light rose over the small, tree-covered forest to the east, a bright, spherical time-keeper kept by the god herself. She looked out to the bright orange sky and sighed.

Picking up her lyre, she headed up the road, hoping that Canterlot would offer a better life than Ponyville. Or at least a better life on the streets.

~~~

One of the things that Lyra was renowned for was her singing, as it turned out. She couldn't ever sing to anything that she didn't make, but she could improvise her lyrics as she waltzed up the road to Canterlot pretty well.
" You go from the girl that looks nice,
and hangs with the people I know,
From the one that I wonder,
About whom I thought I'd never know;
To the cause of my waking in the morning,
And the reason I sleep well at night.
'Gone from my main source of power,
Through the longest days of my life,
From the person I cry to,
To the main cause 'n' reason of my plight.

'Gone from wonder, to love,
To hatred, to all of the above.
And while I fight to make sense,
Of the fact that,
You still want to know me...

What do I do?
When the girl I love doesn't love me too?
What do I do?
I need help, because I think I'm about to,
What do I do?
I can't think, if not about you.

So finally, From Someone,
To close to me,
To hated by,
To not saying 'Hi,'
To awkward passings,
To you re-befriending,
Me.

It's not goanna be easy,
These last weeks have been sleazy,
But I still feel for you,
And it still needs to go.

Do you still have feelings,
Are we really just friends?
Am I being paranoid,
Just 'cause I knew it would end?
Am I really okay,
With being kept at bay,
Is 'friends' really enough?
Is it really this tough?
Why can't I just fix it,
And leave us our separate ways?
Why can't I just fix it,
And let us head our separate ways?"

She stopped her dance once or twice when carriages stopped to see who was singing, and sometimes offered a few more bits than they should of - they were from Canterlot, a good street performer was unheard of, and they definitely had money to spare - but for the most of the time, she climbed slowly up the mountain trail, repeating her song again and again, once or twice changing the words or notes to entertain herself.

Halfway up the hill, a gentlecolt offered her a ride in exchange for her tune to be played in his cart, which she accepted - if there was one thing she could figure out for herself about being homeless, it would probably be that you accept any free ride or rest.

~~~

She hopped off, waving goodbye to the man who was being called 'Just Rich' by his pullers. She thought the name was familiar, but she just couldn't quite put her hoof on it.

As she turned after making a curtsy, she gasped slowly.

She'd been to the Gala before, but she came in a carriage, so she never saw the city. She knew now, though, that if she where to make her living from music, this would be a great experience.

The tens of carriages that slowly swarmed through the city, surrounded by the hundreds of ponies walking from one store or shop to another all indicated an impossible amount of cash in her hat pocket by the end of the week.

Or that is, if I play this right...

~~~

Bonbon woke up in her apartment bedroom. Not her bed, though - the floor had served as her mattress last night, and the hoof that wasn't carrying the bottle of wine had served as her pillow, though it was now numb.

She sighed, attempting to rise from the floor, before falling back down and hitting the ground.

Damn it...

Her hang-over had forced her to the floor, seemingly with the power of a stampede, as when her head hit the ground, pain echoed throughout her body, as did the absurdly loud 'crash' of the wine bottle smashing on the floor, but the stupidly strong light of Celestia's sun pulsed pain through her head as if her eyes were being pushed back through the skull made her roll over in to her own vomit.

Her stroke of bad luck, as she knew, was caused by last night's drunken stupor. This was mainly indicated by the fact that her vision was still like a curving mirror, but the currently shattered wine bottle combined with the strong smell of urine emitting from her leg made a good indicator, too.

"Coffee."

~~~

Lyra stood on a step on the front of a stage, singing and playing her version of 'Hospital Flowers' to gather a small crowd before heading or through the streets playing a slow, gentle tune. Whatever it was that she was doing right, she noticed that it brought in the money.