The quiet stillness of the room was disturbed only by a gentle breathing and an occasional light snore as the amorphous shape under the duvet rolled over.
The thick drapes would have created an almost perfect impression of night time were it not that a shaft of light stabbed the darkness through the smallest of gaps at one end of the window. In its rich golden beam, myriad specks of tiny dust particles performed a synchronised dance for an audience of bedroom furniture.
A mint green forehoof reached out in a reflex action to embrace the soft cream body she had come to know so well, but it fell instead, unsatiated, onto the mattress. The fact that she had always been there to accept a cuddle and a hug had become so much a part of their lives together that her not being there woke the bed’s sole occupant as surely as an alarm clock ringing in her ear.
“Bon Bon …” she murmured, padding around with her forehoof to find a trace of the pony she had loved most in all of Equestria, “Bon Bon …”
All too quickly, her dreams abandoned her to the harshness of reality, and she sobbed gently, drawing a pillow to her for comfort as she shed the first of many tears that day. As she buried her face into the pillow, she could still just make out her marefriend’s scent, but the final traces had almost faded. Once the last of her fragrance was gone, Lyra knew she would have nothing, but she held it tighter, in the hope the Celestia may see how much she still needed to feel Bon Bon’s presence and somehow take pity on her.
She hadn’t set hoof outside their home for weeks now. She’d had lots of visitors, all concerned about her, but every time she heard a knock at the door, she had refused to answer and stayed away from the windows in case she was seen. Now the drapes just stayed drawn the whole time; it was easier that way.
She remembered being called to the mortuary to identify Bon Bon. She was laid on a cold slab and although the orderlies had done their best to rearrange her body so that it did not betray the severity of her injuries, something about her shape looked wrong. But it wasn’t that which caught her eye, but the oddly contented smile she had been wearing on her face.
Witnesses had spoken of her brave and selfless courage as she had tackled the bugbear alone before it rampaged into the Ponyville orphanage, holding it off before help could arrive; help that had arrived, but just fractionally too late.
They had never had foals of their own, but they had both wanted them when they got a bit older, and bided their time foalsitting for others, just to get in practice for their own big day; a day that would now never come.
As she had left for the last time, Bon Bon had hurriedly said something about a super-secret anti-monster agency, but she hadn’t paid proper attention; not that it mattered now anyway.
Then there had been the funeral. Princess Celestia had conducted the service personally. It had been a grand affair, she supposed. But all the pomp and ceremony in the world wouldn’t bring her marefriend back, so what did it matter?
Lyra curled up on the floor with a copy of the picture that had first made her and Bon Bon famous. They had been casually wiling away a few idle moments together watching the world go by from the perspective of a park bench, when the legendry artist Palomino Picasso came past. Her practiced eye immediately seized on the artistic composition of their relaxed kinship and recognised the aesthetic potential, as well as the commercial value, of immortalising the moment. The two lovers had been a little bemused at the request, but when she had promised to give them a personally signed copy they accepted without protest; a personalised Picasso wasn’t something that many ponies had, after all.
Immediately, it had become a hit, propelling them into the public eye, as well as netting Picasso a tidy sum in royalties. Soon, nopony could honestly say that they hadn’t seen this iconic picture of two ponies relaxing together on a park bench.
Overnight, they had become established as the iconic same-sex couple. They had never thought of themselves as being particularly extraordinary in their relationship, and had loved each other as they were, never considering for a moment that they would be blazing a trail for others to follow.
Whether they had expected it or not, they had been deluged with fan mail typically either congratulating them for taking a stand or praising them for having given others support through their evident self-confidence and happiness with each other. There had been other mail, of course; not everypony was ready to have role models with such radical views. Fortunately, these had been few.
She stared longingly at the picture, her eyes not drifting off her marefriend’s perfect face, recounting all the precious moments they had shared together, and it wasn’t long before she felt the tears start to trickle a well stained path down her muzzle.
She should have felt hungry, but she didn’t feel like eating. The food in the house had run out weeks ago, and initially she had felt her tummy rumble, but over time had found the urge to eat diminished and now she actually felt quite happy not eating at all. She was tired though, perpetually tired, but no longer cared.
A creeping pain she had been steadfastly ignoring in her chest for days suddenly took a hold of her and she tensed, rolling to one side, clutching her chest as she fought for breath. Then everything went calm and she found her attention drawn to the glowing light that had just appeared in the room. She didn’t know what it was, but something told her it was important, so she watched as it grew. A pony with a cream face, caring deep blue eyes and pink and purple mane stepped forward out of the light and smiled deeply as if greeting a long lost friend.
“Bon Bon?” asked the wide eyed unicorn, hardly daring to believe what she saw, “Bon Bon, is it you?”
“Yes, Lyra” the visitor replied softly, her form becoming clearer as she advanced further from the light, “It’s your time now.”
Lyra looked around and saw the pitiful form of an emaciated unicorn collapsed on the floor, stained pillow by her side.
“Oh my” she said, stifling a sense of embarrassment, “I am a sight.”
“To me, you will always be beautiful” replied Bon Bon.
“Can we be together forever?” she asked, hoping beyond hope they would.
“If that’s what you want.”
“I do” replied Lyra happily, as if at a wedding ceremony, “I do.”
With that, she took one last look back at the sad unicorn clinging to her shattered dreams and then turned back to her one true love with the first smile she had worn in weeks.
“I’m ready now” she said, moving closer to her as they prepared to walk off into the light. Together.
