How can I trust you anymore?
Bonbon had hardly walked into her home that she picked up on the seething hostility the living room was full of. After her eyes quickly adapted to the gloom—in stark contrast with the blazing radiance of the outside day—she saw, across the room, sitting on the couch in her peculiar position, forelegs crossed, Lyra, disgruntled, glaring at her. Bonbon halted, cleared her throat coyly, and simpered. “Hello, darling! I’m home!” she ventured, without much conviction.
“Ah! Miss whatever your name is,” growled Lyra in answer. “Please have a cushion. We have much to discuss.”
Bonbon sighed, and her ears sagged. Reluctantly, she ambled forward to the nearest cushion and plopped herself down on to it. “Lyra,” she begun, “let me—”
“Today it’s my turn to ask the questions,” Lyra cut in grumpily. ”First: what should I call you?”
“Lyra, I—”
“Do you realise,” Lyra interrupted again, “that I don’t even know what I am supposed to call you now?”
Bonbon sighed another time. “Just call me Bonbon, like you ever did.”
“Is that your true name?”
“Bonbon, Sweetie Drops, yes, I guess you can use—”
“You guess? And what am I supposed to do? Can you just for a brief moment put yourself in my place? Here, across the table, lies a mare who has first been my chum, then my best friend, then my lover for more than five years.” Lyra stood up and started to pace to and fro around the room. “A mare I was even considering a lifetime partner, to the point of thinking… Nevermind. I showed you my open heart. I always played it aboveboard. And what did I get in return? Lies. You’ve been lying to me from the first day on. That’s… that’s just mean. How am I supposed to trust you now?”
She broke off. Bonbon’s gaze was locked on her as she circled around the room.
“You know how I feel like?” Lyra took up. “I feel like I’ve been cheated from day one. My entire life with you is just a big pack of lies. Quicksand. It’s just an awful feeling… I’m… I’m not sure I can forgive you, Bon… whatever.”
“Honey,” tried Bonbon apologetically, “I had no choice. I could not and had no right to involve you into—”
“Wrong! You acted as if I was going to betray you, as if I was unworthy of sharing your secret. You denied me the confidence I placed in you. Did I ever lied to you, Bonbon? Did I ever try to hide something of my life from you? Never.I was honest all along the line. A patsy. A shnook. That’s what I’ve been. You’ve used me as a tool. Is that all I am for you?“ She burst into tears.
“Oh please, Lyra!” said Bonbon. She stood up and made one step in Lyra’s direction.
“Stay away liar!” Lyra squealed. “Don’t come close to me! Never more.”
Bonbon stopped; she bit her tongue. “I’m so sorry Lyra, so sorry…” she began. “You know how it goes. At first I could not tell you because we were just… friends, no more, and, you’re right, I could not trust you then. But when we got more involved, I wanted to tell you, I really did, but I feared you would reject me and so I baulked, and got tangled up in that lie. But I love you, Lyra. I do. With all my heart.” She glanced desperately at the green unicorn.
“How can I trust you after all this, Bonbon?” replied Lyra between two sobs. “How can you prove this is not just poppycock once more? Give me one good reason why I should carry our relationship further.”
“I can’t, of course,” replied Bonbon. “But you’ve got to believe me. Please. Please Lyra. I pledge my troth to you. Didn’t I prove I love you everyday since we first kissed? Do you really think I could make up such a pretence and keep it going all this long?”
Lyra looked at Bonbon with watery eyes. “I…” she stuttered at last. “I don’t know… I don’t know anymore… I suppose no, but… But anyway…”
“Anyway what?” asked Bonbon.
“I’m sorry to tell you that darling, but… I mean, yeah, how can we envision to live together anyways? I mean… how can I share any intimacy with somepony I’m not even sure to see again each time she disappears through the door frame? Did you ever wonder how I would feel if something happened to you? Did you?”
“Oh Lyra, don’t be so melodramatic,” replied Bonbon. “I swear that that Bugbear mission is the last one in which I risked my life. From now on, I have asked Celestia to be chosen for low profile missions only.”
“Am I supposed to swallow this hook, line and sinker?” Lyra protested. “Prove it! And no runarounds this time!”
“Lyra, sweetheart, I cannot—”
“You see? Promises! Just words I’ve to put up with. You don’t even have the guts to show me more. How can I be sure you’ve not been missioned to fight another unknown bugaboo? Enough! I can’t continue on the present course, Bonbon. Not now that I know what I know. Not anymore. Sorry!” And she relapsed into another fit of tears.
Bonbon sighed. “All right, all right,” she said. “Hold on just a second.” She stood up, walked to the stairs, that she ascended wearily. Amidst Lyra’s sobs, some door opening and lock picking could be heard. Then Bonbon reappeared holding a chit that she put on to the big oval table. “Take a gander! You’ll see I’m in good faith,” she said to Lyra.
Lyra, sniffling, grasped the note with her magic, flew it to her and read it. It ran:
From: C.
To: SD.
Have received word about your new wishes.
In wake of success of mission B, am happy to comply and give you a more mundane mission: your new affectation is to monitor PTS in Ponyville for early signs of moping or depression. Report immediately any inkling or suspicion of erratic behaviour to me. Refer to this as mission T.
Please destroy the present order.
Yours,
C.
Lyra flew the note back on to the table. “Who is that ‘PTS’?” she asked.
“Princess Twilight Sparkle,” Bonbon replied. “Now Lyra, you realise I am taking an awful risk here? First, I should’ve destroyed that written order. Second, I’m breaching several basic regulations by showing it to you, and I could be fired right away if Celestia came to know it. But I’m willing to take that risk because I love you, honey. Do you believe me now?”
Lyra lowered her gaze and seemed to scrutinise the floor. “Swear this is no fake,” she said after a few seconds.
“Please Lyra!” Bonbon answered. “Of course I swear it. Didn’t you recognise Celestia’s handwriting? Do you think I could make up such a high-quality counterfeit in just a few seconds? I’m pretty competent in tradecraft, but not to this point. At least not yet.”
“I’m sorry, darling,” said Lyra, raising back her head. “I didn’t mean to offend you but… you know, it’s all muddled up in my head. Could you… Would you mind leaving me alone, just half an hour. I badly need to be alone to sort my feelings out.”
Bonbon smiled. “Of course not, hon’. Even for a longer time if you need it.” She walked to Lyra and pecked her on the cheek. “Going to Sugar Cube Corner, have to deliver a batch of those rose-flavoured candies they are so fond of. Relax, drink a good tea, and think it over. But never forget that I do care for you. More than you can possibly imagine.”
Lyra did not reply, but she looked at her lover with grateful eyes, and a smile played on her lips. Bonbon winked at her, then she skittered to the entrance door, heaved a big box lying nearby on the floor on to her back and ambled off.
Lyra’s eyes followed Bonbon until the door closed. She grabbed a hanky, blew her muzzle, and wiped her tears away. She allowed herself two minutes to compose herself, then slowly walked to the desk in the adjacent study. There, she sat on the chair, drew a blank sheet out of a drawer, and magically dipped a quill in a small phial of blue ink. On the virgin paper, she wrote:
Your Highness,
Our fears were unfortunately justified. Agent SD. has become unreliable. Not only has she revealed her job in the agency to me, she even produced, in order to quell a faked domestic quarrel, the order of mission you recently sent her, in glaring violation of chapter A.15 and seq. of the code of ethics.
Pursuant to the regulations currently in force, I regret but have no other choice than to recommend the decommission of said agent, starting next day.
Most respectfully,
Supervisor L.
Lyra returned the quill to the phial. She squirmed uneasily on her chair, hesitated, then finally magically grasped the quill once more and added a short postscript:
P.S. If you do indeed decommission SD., as I strongly suggest you should, please also accept my resignation, effective henceforth.
She placed the quill on the desk, rolled the paper into a short cylinder that she wrapped with a small red ribbon loop. Her horn briefly lit and the message vanished away.
The unicorn contemplated the empty desk for a few seconds. Then, silently, she stood up, peacefully walked to the nearest window, and looked across the pane, searching the ever-shifting flow of pedestrians for the familiar shape of her lover.
