The Lies That Kill Us (Pending Draft) (Patreon)

I thought I'd keep up with sharing early story drafts with my patrons. As always, feedback, suggestions, and critique are greatly appreciated! And for the love of god, if any of y'all know French, feel free to point out any errors I've made!

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  Fleur's ear pricked at the sound of hooves.

Someone  was crashing wildly through the grass behind her, approaching quickly-  much too quickly. Fleur hadn't had enough time to prepare, not enough time to think of what she'd say-

"Mother."

Fleur drew in a deep breath, and forced a broad smile onto her face. Carefully, she turned around to greet the newcomer.

"Joyeux aniversaire, ma belle." Fleur attempted, "....You've had a marvelous day, I hope?"

Vogue's eyes were wide and rimmed red, glittering bright with the threat of tears. "Mother." Vogue gulped, trying to calm her frenzied breathing. "Please tell me it isn't true."

"I...I...." The feeble excuse evaporated on Fleur's tongue. Her uncertainty buckled into frustration, and she erupted. " "....Ce bâtard! Je le tuerai! Ce misérable bâtard!" Fleur snarled, her horn sparking with white-hot magic. "He had no right! To spoil your birthday out of his own selfishness! And spite! Je le tuerai!"

Her daughter flushed crimson, and the tears she'd been so bravely holding back finally poured free. "You-you hypocrite! The fault lies with you as much as it does Blueblood! You lied to me! You lied for years!" Vogue shrieked, "How long would you have kept this from me?!" 

Automatically,  Fleur jerked forward with an imploring hoof, seeking to comfort her  child- but the sheer venom of Vogue's glare kept her at bay. "I....ah, chérie...W-with  luck, you would have never found out." She admitted. "Your father and  I- Blueblood as well- we vowed to take the secret to our graves.  We....we had a contract. Blueblood has broken it." She  forced down her anger, swallowing it like bile. Again, she attempted to  reach out to her daughter, desiring nothing more than to shield her  within her arms, forever hidden away from the terrible truths of the  world. "Please, please understand, Vogue. We never wanted to hurt you."

Vogue slapped away the hoof that reached for her. "You didn't want to hurt me?!" She stomped forward, nostrils flaring, looking for all the world like wrath personified. "Another wicked, wicked  lie! All you've done is lie, Maman! Since the very day of my birth! I  was-" Vogue struggled now, the words catching in her throat- "I was born  from an affair! You betrayed Daddy! How could you hurt him like that? And he- oh poor Daddy-  he s-says he forgave you long ago, but-....b-but-" Her voice broke  suddenly, like fine china, and she crumbled into ragged sobs. "But h-how  could he possibly? H-how could he be okay with such a monstrous betrayal?"

"Oh,  mon petit...." A raw ache began in Fleur's chest, and she pulled her  daughter to her, enveloping her in a tight embrace. "Shh, shh...." She  crooned softly, trying to soothe the weeping girl, "Your father has had  the luxury of time. It only hurts so much for you because the  wound is still fresh. Sit with the secret a while, ma belle. Breathe.  With time, your anger will fade, and you'll be able to see-"
Vogue shoved her mother off in a rough pulse of magic. "You think time  will make this better?! That eventually I'll be able to sweep this  under the rug, and we'll go back to playing happy family? You think I'd ever- even if I lived one thousand lifetimes- be able to forgive you?!" She hissed, yet more fat rears rolling down her cheeks, "Perhaps you've successfully convinced Father you were some mewling victim in all this, Mother, but you'll never convince me. You....y-you.....you're j-just a harlot!" Vogue shrieked, her volume sending Fleur's ears pinning back in distress.

"Vogue, ange, trésor-"

"Tart! Strumpet! Cocotte! Whor-"

Fleur's  horn roared to life in a blaze of magic, and she seized her daughter's  jaw in her magical grasp, forcing her mouth shut. "Enough!" Fleur bellowed, her patience having reached its end, "How dare  you speak to your mother with such disrespect? Do you think it was all  me? Do you think your father had no indiscretions of his own?"

Released from the grip of magic, Vogue's mouth opened and closed just once. "....W-what?"

The  inferno of Fleur's fury extinguished in a heartbeat, and she clapped  her hooves over her mouth. "Nothing." She answered, much too quickly.  "I....I said nothing. You are permitted to think whatever you want of  me." She stretched out a hoof and gave her daughter a weak nudge. "Run  along now, chérie. There's still a few hours of your birthday left to enjoy."

Vogue didn't budge. "What indiscretions, Mother?"

"I  misspoke, darling." Fleur waved her hoof dismissively, only a touch  desperately. "I-I was angry, and I...." She trailed off, grasping for a  sufficient diversion.

"You're lying." Vogue's eyes were sharp, peering over her glasses. "Again."

"I....Darling, you must understand. Your father is a good pony. I am too. We may not have always been so, but we have changed, and we have grown, and it is the now that is important, not the past-"

"Maman, please." The  filly scrubbed at her face, wiping at her red, runny nose. "I've heard  Blueblood's account, and I've heard Daddy's. Your side of the story is  the only piece of the puzzle left. Whether you're trying to hide your  sins, or spare my feelings....it doesn't matter. I only want the truth-  the whole truth." Vogue sniffled, and for all her vocabulary, she couldn't quite mask the child she still was. "....Please?"

Her  eyes held a plea, and her mother couldn't tear her gaze away, her mouth  working uselessly. Finally, Fleur's shoulders slumped, exhausted.  "....Oui. The truth, then." She swallowed. "....I suppose I owe you  that, mon bébé."

Fleur sank down in the soft grass, and Vogue joined her. "You may ask me any question, Vogue. I promise to answer truthfully."

Vogue wet her dry lips, contemplating. How could you be so heartless? Is Daddy okay? Will we be okay? How can I forgive you? How can I trust you ever again?

In the end, she decided on her most pressing, painful question. "....How did it happen?"

Her  mother sucked in a sharp breath, then let it out as a sigh. "....Your  father and I have not always been good ponies." She whispered. "I'll  admit that freely. I committed a dreadful act, shattering the vows I'd  sworn with the stallion I loved, because my heart was sick, and I was  lonely."

"Lonely....?" A dull voice echoed in Vogue's mind, Blueblood's words. Fleur was lonely. I was lonely. I invited her to dinner.....

Her brows knit, confused. "Why were you lonely? You were married, and you were wealthy and successful. Where was Daddy?"

"Away."  Fleur said sharply. "As he'd been so frequently. Away on business  trips, touring vineyards, sailing on yachts, rubbing elbows with finance  partners, greasing the hooves of Canterlot politicians. Always, always  away."

"Why didn't you go with him?"

"I  did. When I could. And even so, he was away. His body would be with me,  I'd play the role of his expensive arm candy of the evening, yet his  mind would be a million miles away, pondering shady business dealings in  closed offices, what portions of taxpayer money could be swapped for  the right favors....."

Vogue frowned. "That doesn't sound like Daddy."

Fleur  shook her head. "It wasn't, mon petit. He'd changed so much, become so  very different from the sweet colt I'd fallen in love with. Fancy had  been my very best friend, you know, an absolutely perfect gentlecolt.  I'd lost track of how many summers we spent sailing the coast of Prance,  how many afternoons were lost lounging on grassy hillsides, joking and  talking of the future, weaving flowers into each other's manes. It was a  beautiful romance, my darling. Like a fairy tale." Fleur sighed,  clasping her hooves together in wistful memory. "When he asked me to  marry him, I didn't hesitate. Yes, yes, a thousand times, yes!"

"We  moved to Canterlot to begin carving out our paths in life. I became a  supermodel, an actress, a philanthropist, the envy of every mare alive.  And Fancy's business ventures began taking off around the same time,  rocketing us into a whole new tax bracket. We became obscenely wealthy,  Canterlot's ultimate power couple, the crown jewel of the Equestrian  elite. Ahh, the first few years brought us such success, and only  intensified our love. Bliss." But a frown began to tug at Fleur's mouth.

"And it's......intoxicating,  cherie. To sit at the very top of society. You get drunk on that  feeling of importance. And like the very finest wine, eventually that  feeling- if you let it- begins to poison you, from the inside out."

"....I don't think I understand, Mother." 

"Slowly, malignantly,  we became ensnared in the culture of Canterlot. When you have  everything, you begin taking things for granted. The exciting becomes  mundane. Fine clothes, expensive wines, splashy parties...all of it  becomes routine. Tedium sets in. Fancy- my husband- began to bore of me. It didn't at all help that our careers so often kept us separate- We began to go days without seeing one another. And with time, his gifts, his attention, his affection....all of it trickled to a close."

Vogue's eyes narrowed into slits. "Is that what you meant by indiscretions, then?"

Fleur  toyed listlessly with her hair. "...Oui. I tried in so many ways to  hold his eye. I kept myself slender, kept my mane sleek and styled-  always a perfect porcelain doll. I came to fear my peers, my fellow  models- the younger mares, soft and pretty, effortlessly flawless. I was  aging. I wasn't as new. How terrified I was, of Fancy trading me out  for one of them.....Yet for all my paranoia.....ah, the first time my  husband broke our vows.......it was with the housemaid."

Vogue's  mouth fell open, and she leapt to interrupt, but Fleur pressed forward.  "A plain, mousy mare. I fired her, naturally. As for Fancy, I  threatened to walk, but....he held my hoof, and dried my tears, and  promised it'd never happen again. Promised he loved me. That he'd had a  lapse in judgement. I believed him." Fleur went quiet. "I suspected he  was simply afraid- fearful of encroaching middle age, set on  pursuing new, cheap thrills. Anything to feel alive. I forgave him,  because I wanted to."

"But it happened  again. The new maid. His secretary. Several of my modelling peers. In  the beginning, I cried. I screamed. I cursed him to Tarturus and back-  Oh, what vicious fights we had behind closed doors! His business  ventures grew more suspicious as well. Money laundering, profiteering,  offshore banking...oh, what wretched gluttony! This was not my Fancy! But eventually....I turned a blind eye to it. I had to. For the sake of our marriage."

"....You really are a hypocrite." Vogue spat. "You can't bear an ounce of slander against your good name, yet you'd drag Daddy's through the mud? Am I truly to believe Daddy was some sort of monster, like you say?" She shot to her hooves, pacing madly. "All while you sat around, the loveless lass, pure paragon of virtue?"

Fleur blinked at her, surprised. "Heavens, no. I was a monster too."

Caught off guard, Vogue could only gawk at her mother. "...What?"

"While  your father hoarded increasingly ill-gotten wealth and doting  paramours, I grew....sick. Sick with jealousy, sick with rage, never  sure who to trust. So many of my so-called "friends" were all too  willing to stab me in the back to get ahead in their careers. Some even  took to slinking around my husband when my back was turned, hoping to  ah, trade favors, so to speak." Fleur sneered at the memory. "The  fashion industry is cutthroat. To stay on top, I became cruel. I'd look  to the faces of the other models- so young, naive, so very hopeful- and  I'd feel so jealous I could scream. So many of them adored me,  looked to me for guidance. I was the most experienced, the leader of the  pack. They were my girls......They trusted me." Fleur closed her eyes,  and drew her forearms around herself.

"So I set out to destroy them. Anything, simply to feel alive.  I played mind games. I'd tell them they were too skinny, too tubby,  bloated, wrinkled, hideous. I policed their diets, forced them to take  potions and pills to keep them thin, sickly, model-perfect. If any voiced  a complaint, I'd take them aside and rip them to pieces, until they  were in tears. They'd make career connections with the right ponies, I'd  sever their chances with a single well-placed letter. I was tired of being the perfect trophy wife, always wearing a fake smile. I wanted everypony to feel as miserable as I did."

Vogue flinched, and her eyes grew moist again. "...Mother."

Fleur  looked to her, her ears slicking back. "....I've apologized since, of  course. I've sent letters to those poor girls, talked to the ones that  would hear me. Some have forgiven me, but others....others have told me  to drop dead. This too, is something I must live with."

Vogue began to cry. "I....I-I'm not interested in what horrible things you did in your career. I wanted to know w-why you cheated on Father. Don't try to distract me."

"I  was getting to it, dear." Fleur offered a sad smile. "One warm spring  evening, there was a garden party at Canterlot castle. I pinned my mane  up, strung on my grandmother's pearls....and I arrived to find your  father already there, with one of my models hanging off his arm."

"W-why didn't you confront her? Or Daddy?"

"My dignity was all I had left, chérie.  A marital spat, a public catfight with a girl a fraction of my age? It  would've made perfect fodder for gossip magazines, sent my reputation  crashing down in flames. I would no longer be Fleur de Lis, career mare-  I'd be Fleur, disgraced housewife, tossed aside like yesterday's  garbage." Fleur muttered. "....I had to play my part. The perfect,  passive little wife. I trotted up to Fancy and kissed his cheek.  He barely noticed, only levitated up his empty champagne flute. Asked if  I would be a lamb and fetch him a fresh one, please."

"As  I struggled with the cork on a new bottle, out of the corner of the  eye, I saw my husband lean forward and nuzzle that giggling mare's neck.  The way he used to with me, back when we were young and our  pockets were empty, and we could only take comfort in each other. I  stood there, clutching that trembling, miserable flute of champagne- and I had to down it myself, lest it end up hurled in Fancy's face."

"If you didn't confront him.....what did you do, then?"

"I  excused myself from the party." Fleur hugged herself a little tighter.  "And I ran for shelter within Canterlot castle. Standing in an empty  corridor, I bit down hard on my hoof, to keep from making too much  noise.....and I wept."

"Oh, Maman." Vogue  looked conflicted. She reached out a comforting hoof, but after a  moment, retracted it, and clasped it to her own chest. "...Go on."

"It turns out I wasn't nearly quiet enough. I felt a hoof brush my shoulder, and I looked up- and there he was." Fleur worked her jaw for a moment. "Duke Vladimir Blueblood."

Vogue flinched.

"You  wouldn't know this, but Bluey used to be a very dear friend of ours. He  and Fancy spent their colthood together, gallivanting around Canterlot,  having little adventures, getting into trouble, terrifying their poor  mothers. When Fancy and I moved to Canterlot, Blueblood was one of the  first to extend a hoof in friendship to me, even though I spoke very  little Equuish. He knew Prench, and we spent many a lazy  afternoon together in Blueblood's parlor, savoring conversation and  honey tea." The older mare heaved a long, wistful sigh.

"....I  hadn't even realized I was shivering, not until Blueblood wrapped his  coat around my shoulders. He didn't ask why I'd been crying. He simply  knew."

"Blueblood seems to know a lot of things." Vogue muttered.

"Mm...."  Fleur bit at the inside of her cheek. "He invited me to dinner in his  chambers. At first I told myself I was only going along to get out of  the cold. To enjoy the company of an old friend. But...."
Fleur's breathing hitched suddenly, and she glanced downward, refusing to make eye contact with her daughter.

"Did you love him?" Vogue blurted, an edge of fear in her voice, "Blueblood?"

"....No."  Fleur shook her head slowly. "But we understood each other. He could be  charming. Kind, when it suited him. In some ways, he reminded me of  your father, and for a while, that made things easy. He showed me  affection and kindness when I'd been so starved for it, so I grew to  lean on him. Whenever Fancy and I would have a fight, or he'd cancel a  dinner date with some lazily-made excuse- I'd go to Blueblood. And he'd  be waiting."

Vogue sank down in the grass, clutching at her stomach. "....I think I'm going to be sick."

Fleur  reached over and gently brushed her daughter's mane from her face, her  eyes laced with maternal worry. "I'm sorry, ma belle. This was all too  much, I think. Would you like to have a rest?"

"N-no."  Vogue sniffled, struggling to calm her queasy belly. Like the most  nauseating mystery novel, she had to see this to the end. "You've told  me how it happened. You didn't explain the aftermath, or how in Equestria you and Daddy stayed married."

"Ah, well, that's simple." Fleur smiled softly. "I learned I was pregnant with you, chérie."

"Oh, of course. Nothing like an illegitimate bastard to stitch a marriage back together."

"Language."  Fleur chided. "And on the contrary- that news sparked a terror in me  unlike any I'd ever known before. Fancy was unable to sire foals- there  could be no concealing who the father of my child was. I was caught, like a rat in a trap."

"And what of Duke Blueblood?"

"Blueblood made it very clear to me that he was not to be involved....he implied he had the clout to see me dishonored, destitute."

"It would be nothing less than you deserved." Vogue grumbled. "What all of you deserved."

"Perhaps, but then my baby would go hungry. No matter what, I refused to let that happen. I knew I had to tell Fancy, to hell with the consequences. All I cared about was protecting you, Vogue." Fleur lifted her chin. "I'd raise you myself, if needed."

"How did Daddy take it?"

".....Not well." Fleur said quietly. "Not well at all. He was furious at  Blueblood- their friendship fractured that day beyond repair. And as  for me....well, I braced for his rage, and prepared to eviscerate him in  turn. But his wrath was spent. All that was left was heartbreak.  Emptiness. He gazed at me as though I was a stranger. And that, I  believe, was all the more chilling."

Vogue  shuddered. "That still doesn't answer how you both are still married. My  whole life.....I-I thought you both were very much in love. Was that a  lie too?" Her voice wavered, afraid of the answer.

Fleur held up her hoof, a call for patience. "We decided to divorce."

"Then how-?"

"Love is a strange, potent, fickle thing, mon cœur.  When it came time to sign the divorce paperwork....our quills hovered  in the air, dribbling ink onto the parchment. It seemed that neither one  of us could strike the killing blow." Fleur trailed off, gazing at  something beyond the horizon. "....When I found the courage to look at  your father, there were tears in his eyes. Yet he drew out his  handkerchief and wiped at my face. My hoof found his, and we simply....broke."

"So.....you didn't sign the papers?"

"No. We clung to each other, weeping, pain upon pain upon pain finally pouring free. Quaking confessions, beseeching apologies...And so much fear.  Fear of growing old, of living unfulfilled, of losing one another, our  very last cornerstone in a crumbling foundation of mind."

"That's it? You stayed together because you were too scared of being alone?" Vogue stamped at the ground, utterly indignant.

"...Yes."  Fleur admitted. "We decided to take a trip. Go sailing. To get out of  Canterlot for a while, give ourselves time to think." A trace of a smile  began to play at Fleur's lips, "Then, and only then, could the road to  healing begin." A true, girlish smile blossomed to life on Fleur's face,  "Only then could we learn to love again."

"I refuse to believe that." Vogue snapped. "So you sat around eating bonbons on a yacht and feeling sorry for yourselves, and that was enough to forget everything and fall in love again? Perhaps we should all  trade infidelity for infidelity and hope to erase away our vile past!  No, Mother, I doubt even Princess Mi Amore Cadenza herself has the power  to jump-start a marriage so rancid."

"My darling, it wasn't about erasing the past. We had to confront  it." Fleur said gently. "We had lost sight of ourselves. Taken each  other for granted. Hurt each other out of fear for the unknown." With  her hoof, she carefully lifted her daughter's chin. "We needed to accept  these parts of ourselves- the pettiness, the selfishness- if we were to  ever grow beyond them. We found ourselves back on the same grassy  hillside of our youth, and we lost afternoon upon afternoon talking.  Remembering how to make each other smile, rediscovering all the  delightful little quirks we'd missed about each other. I wove flowers  into Fancy's mane, and he held me so tightly- oh, there were tears and  laughter alike, my love. We fell asleep in each other's arms, for the  first time in years."

A dark expression had  clouded over Vogue's face. "And as long as we're keeping up this syrupy,  ridiculous happily-ever-after.....I trust Daddy had zero issues with you giving birth to another stallion's foal?"

Fleur's face fell. "....It....It wasn't a seamless adjustment. Don't make the mistake of believing this was easy for us, mon petit. It was very much  an uphill battle. Guilt, shame, anger- all threatened to consume us, at  times. How easy it would be for me to tell you that your father fell  head over hooves for you the moment you were born, all perfect pudgy  cheeks and sweet little babbles." Fleur frowned. "He was relieved- the  birth had been a difficult one. But you had Blueblood's eyes. In the  beginning, I think, he did try to keep his distance."

"So...." Vogue's eyes glittered with fresh tears. "He didn't really love me?"

Fleur looped an arm around her daughter and pulled her close. Vogue  squirmed and put up a brief protest-before surrendering and resting her  cheek against her mother’s chest. Fleur rocked her a little, rocked  them both.

"My dear, you are extraordinarily  lovable. Your father never stood a chance." Fleur whispered tenderly.  "He may not have fallen for you immediately, but he did, and hard. He found he could forgive me- he wanted to. I could forgive him. And we could raise this perfect, perfect little filly as our own, as a blessing,  not a curse! Blueblood had already signed his rights away. There was  nothing to stop us from inventing ourselves anew, as kinder ponies, as  more charitable leaders, as a loving family."

A wet, muffled hiccup came from against Fleur's chest. "....I don't know if I can believe that, Maman."

"Believe  this." Fleur squeezed her filly tight, hoping to crush any doubt, "We  love you, ma belle. More and more every day. And more than anything, we  are sorry." She pressed a kiss to the top of Vogue's head. "I am sorry."

"I.....I-I  don't think I can accept that apology right now." Vogue sniffled. She  gazed up at her mother with wide, lost eyes. ".....How do I know I won't  become like you and Daddy? And Blueblood? P-petty and greedy and horrid to the ones that love me?" She began to sob. "M-my entire existence is p-p-predicated on suffering!"

"Oh, mon cœur." Fleur leaned down to nuzzle her child's cheek, "You are a flower that has bloomed among decay. Everyone has a choice.  You are no more fated to become a monster than any filly off the  street. You, my love, are already so much stronger and smarter than I  am." Her mother crooned, "You won't make your parent's mistakes. You  will be greater and kinder than us combined- I know, because you already  are. I'm so proud of you." Fleur raised a hoof to boop Vogue's nose. "Ma fille chérie."

Vogue  attempted a smile, but it was weak, feeble, and quickly slid from her  face. ".....I-I think it'd be best if I stayed at Frenzy's tonight." She  pulled away from her mother, rising up on shaky legs.

Fleur's eyes widened in alarm, and she still held the space where Vogue had been. "Vogue, please- would you be open to talking about this again?" She implored her daughter's retreating figure, "As a family?"

Vogue  swung her head back to snap, furious at her mother's last pitiful  guilt-trip- but then her gaze landed on the raw, earnest pleading in her  mother's eyes. The older mare was crying, warm tears silently streaming  down her cheeks.

Vogue had never seen her mother cry before, not once.

Like  a lightning bolt, it struck her that her parents- ponies she'd always seen  as kind, compassionate, infallible, the reigning sun and moon of her tiny  universe- were just ponies. Made of bone, flesh, and blood, as flawed as  any random stranger. Her stomach writhed, as though swarming with  snakes. It wasn't a pleasant revelation.


"....A-Alright."  She said reluctantly. "....But later. Much later." She smothered a  single, broken sob, turning her back on her mother at last. "......Right  now, I can't bear to look at you."


Tears dripped down Fleur's chin to land in the grass below, and the mare watched as her daughter fled.


"Ah, ma belle......sometimes I can't bear to, either."

In the horizon, the sun sank lower into the sky.