Time passed, and if Discord had bothered to keep track of it he would have seen years, decades, centuries go by. During this time he traveled to other dimensions and worlds, no reason to the directions he chose, as long as it was far from Equestria. He'd gone to worlds of shadow and light, places with no time or color or sensation, glassy planes with spectacular starfalls where winged creatures lived.
His heart ached and his eyes hurt; he wanted to shutter himself away in his room for the rest of his long life. But he’d fought to be strong, too, never allowing himself to shed a tear for her. It was not that he had not wanted to, but he wasn’t sure it was the appropriate thing for him to do yet. Over time it became a sort of game for him, an emotion he would skirt as it crept near. If he had been an innocent bystander, if he had not known her well, he might have cried briefly for Twilight or Celestia’s sake. But somehow the thought of doing it for Fluttershy frightened him.
As time passed, he missed Equestria and then he didn't and, slowly, it faded from his mind. He'd eked out something of a new, unstable life, and every now and then he listened for any news from Equestria that might be passing through. Hearing some news, he was glad to be an outsider. A thousand years before, the Crystal Empire had been entirely destroyed and turned into a frozen wasteland that not even Celestia or Twilight could save, and both Cadance and Shining Armor had been killed. Flurry Heart lived for only a few hundred years more, before succumbing to some other terror, or so he had read.
In time and with distance he began to speak to others again. His months as a morose transient hadn't really required him to say much of anything and he took comfort in that, but eventually had to speak again to find his way. He’d done so well, he thought, for a little while at least. Back when things were happy and fun and new. Back when he had Fluttershy. But afterward, no matter how far or how long he traveled, he could not seem to get that feeling back. He never opened up, never let himself get too close to anyone else in the worlds he reached. It seemed too much trouble and never promised him relief.
He met other ponies from time to time. He'd even had a flings with some of them, but he couldn't shake the connection; ponies made him think of Cadance and Shining Armor, and therefore made him think of Twilight, and therefore Twilight's friends. Somehow it seemed almost everything reminded him of Fluttershy, as if she were the zero point, the origin of all of his feelings and thoughts.
Candy Claret had been a showpony, singing and dancing in a bar on a far-away moon. At first he hardly noticed her, for it had been many thousands of years since he’d seen a full-blooded pony, but she was pretty and seemed interested in him. He'd found other females of various species attractive over the years, and he appreciated Candy's dark red and white hair and crystalline white body, but it had been her cutie mark which had caught him off-guard: three small candies like peppermint swirls in white, red, and green. They reminded him of somepony he had known a long time ago, a pony who loved sweets.
At the time he hadn't really thought of it, but the memory harassed him until he decided to satiate the connection by inviting her to dinner. She had agreed and together they plied themselves with alcohol and one thing led to another. She surprised him further by proving to be good company, and for the first time in a long time he smiled and laughed and they enjoyed themselves and each other.
They had spent the last three days and nights in a hotel bed together, until the evening of the fourth night the memory clicked and he knew the pony he'd been trying to remember had been called Pinkie Pie. Remembering Pinkie reminded him of Fluttershy, and his old bitterness returned.
Candy let her head loll to the side on the pillow as she lit a cigarette. “What’s an old fellow like you doing way out here, anyway? Isn’t there a lady waiting for you somewhere?” The smoke began to mingle with the smells of cheap perfume and sex, creating a stagnant haze in the small room.
Discord gave her strange look. “Do I look the type?”
A smile tugged at her lips. “I don’t know. You look lonely.”
“That bad?” he said, raising his eyebrows.
Candy laughed. “Almost.”
Discord's smile faded and Candy's followed. “What's the matter?”
He wouldn't look at her. “You reminded me of someone.”
“I know. You talked about her in your sleep.”
He hunched his shoulders. “You should have woken me up.”
“Nah,” she said, and touched his shoulder. “You sleep so little as it is.”
He shrugged his shoulder to displace her hoof. “It doesn’t matter. You have no business listening to a guy’s dreams.”
“You didn’t say her name.” Candy took another drag. “My bad, then. Want another round?”
Discord sat up and stuck his legs off the edge of the bed. “I need to be getting on my way.”
“Gee, honey, I’m not trying to trick you into anything,” Candy said, propping herself up on her pillow. “I get it. I mean, you’re not interested, no coat off my back, but at least wait until morning.”
He hesitated. “I really can’t stay.”
“Neither of us can,” she laughed again. “Do you know how much a night in this decrepit old place costs? But here we are.”
Discord gave a sort of coughing laugh. “I never imagined we would.”
Candy rolled onto her side so she could look at him properly. “That’s life, I guess. So who’s the girl?”
“Girl?”
“The one we just brought up.”
“... It was a long time ago. It doesn’t matter.”
She set her cigarette between her teeth. “I see. Just how long are we talking?”
“Longer than you can imagine,” he frowned.
She raised her eyebrow. “All right.”
“No. Really.”
Candy's eyebrow was still raised, and Discord’s frown deepened. What did she expect of him? Hadn’t she just said she wasn’t trying to trick him into anything? She certainly seemed to expect an answer.
“I’m not asking anything of you,” Candy explained, seeing his expression, “honest.”
“I know, because if you were I never would have come here with you.”
Candy rolled her eyes and sat up, stubbing out her cigarette. “Look, I don't know a thing about you except you're good in the sack and that you saw something in me I thought you sort of liked, but you don't have to be an asshole. I'm just trying to be friendly. I thought we were getting on okay.”
“You're right; you don't know me. You're just a two-bit showpony from nowhere.”
Candy struggled to keep her temper. “Don’t think so highly of yourself, either. I’m not asking you to marry me. You don’t have to be rude or run away; I don’t bite.”
Discord stood up. “I’m leaving.”
“Discord, what’s gotten into you?”
He ignored her and looked around the darkness to find his belongings.
“Is it the girl? What, I’m not her, so you’re just dumping me like trash?”
“Be quiet. Stop talking about her.”
She sat up. “Oh, brother. You missed your chance, do you get that? You’re never going to get another one.”
“What chance?” Discord bit back. “I’m here, aren’t I? We screwed twenty times, didn’t we?” He had managed the argument so far, but then Candy said something he found unforgivable.
“I’m not talking about me! You’re hung-up over that girl, aren't you,” she had cried. Her distress didn’t stem from any sort of jealousy, but from impatience. “Look, I don't know what happened to her, but I’m not her. You chose to leave wherever you came from. Let her go.”
“Let her go? Go? Go where? What are you talking about?”
Candy stared at him. “ ...You don’t mean she’s still alive, do you? I figured, if it had been so long, she was long gone.”
He wanted to hurt her then. Hit her, kick her, throw her out the damn window of their room. Who did this harlot think she was, telling him about his life? She should have been the one to have her limbs snapped apart, not his Fluttershy. She should be the bones in that grave, not his best friend.
His wild rage scared him. He wasn’t even sure how he made it out of their room without inflicting injury on Candy Claret. It was a miracle maybe, or something left over from the days when he had friends; when he actually cared for others besides himself, and they cared for him in return.
Candy might have cared about him, but he didn’t want her to. And he knew she was right when she told him to let Fluttershy go. How many years had it been now? Decades, centuries… millennia? He all but forgot her sometimes. Sometimes he did forget her, and those times were respites for him. When he did remember, the pain was a dull, familiar ache that was often bearable. But he didn’t want to think about it, even now. And he’d never, ever heard anyone else talk about it. That he could not allow.
And even if Candy wanted him around, she wasn’t the first. Like the others, her pretty face had lured him for a brief moment in time, but she was nothing compared to Fluttershy. No one ever was.
He knew it wasn’t fair to her, to anyone else, to compare his lost love with them, for Fluttershy had been young and they had almost always been apart, and so she was perfect. No one could ever compare to a memory. If they had actually been together and years had gone by, surely they would have found faults in each other. They would have argued and gotten angry and been sad together. He could imagine Fluttershy storming out of their house, could see himself tire of her weakness. But they would have loved each other.
A revelation hit him then, in the room with Candy. His temper must have been a coping mechanism. It kept others away from him, safe. He felt safe alone, too. Fluttershy was his excuse for his own perceived inadequacies, and he had fed them ever since she’d died. Perhaps he didn't even know who or what he was anymore. All of his traits had been stripped away, leaving only a rough and poisonous exterior. He left the hotel without so much as a goodbye, never wanting or expecting to hear from Candy Claret ever again.
When at great length she showed up on his doorstep with a chip on her shoulder and a fussy foal hybrid strapped to her back, Discord was displeased to say the least, but he fought the urge to shut the door in her face.
“Do you know how long it took me to find this place?” Candy said, catching her breath, her body weighed down with her foal and her bags. Her eyes searched for a place to drop everything.
Discord turned to go back inside and held the door open for her. “I can guess.” He hadn't thought it was possible for anyone or anything to find him in an alternate dimension, but Candy Claret was obviously more skilled than he had given her credit for, and far more persistent.
The foal strapped to her was not recently born, but still too young to walk. She looked at Discord with sleepy but interested red eyes. Something welled in him as he looked at her, a raw feeling of some new, unnatural emotion. “Who is that?” he asked.
“You know who it is,” Candy said, irritated. “Who else would it be?”
“Why are you here?”
“I thought you might want to know you had a child, Discord.”
“I came here to be left alone.”
Candy groaned. “Look, we’re never going to get along. That’s fine. But you don’t have to stay a shut-in for the rest of your life. Look at her. She doesn’t care who are. Yet.”
Discord felt the same cathartic sensation he'd just felt as he looked back at his daughter. It terrified him somehow, but he found it comforting nonetheless. He rubbed his face as he walked toward the kitchen to make a pot of tea. “She doesn’t look anything like me.” She doesn’t, he thought to himself as if to reinforce the idea. She’s just another life to screw up.
“Just hold her,” Candy said from the living room. “You know, carrying her was no picnic. I’ve never felt so uncomfortable in my life. I don’t think my belly will ever forgive me.”
“I saw her,” Discord said, returning from the kitchen. “I see her. Yes. Baby. Wow.”
“Not just ‘baby’,” Candy frowned. “Your baby. You know, like ‘mother’ and ‘father’?”
“I don’t care.”
“Discord, she has your eyes. And paws, just like-“
“I’m not interested,” he said, and this time he looked right at Candy’s eyes. “Do you understand?” He kicked aside the small old chest he had unlocked the previous morning after nearly a hundred years, a rare action when he was feeling particularly sentimental. He had arranged a few of the items on his window sill, eyeing them every now and then, trying to decide if he wanted to leave them out or not.
“I know what your problem is,” Candy smirked. “I know why you hate me so much; I’ve been thinking about it ever since you left. You only have two emotions in you, and only one of them works at a time. Selfishness and anger, right? I think the truth is you don't love anyone because you can't.”
“I didn’t invite you here to insult me.”
“You didn’t invite me here! Okay, don’t care about me. I don’t care about you, either. But your child, Discord… how can you just throw her away?”
Discord opened his front door. “Go on, please. Just go home.”
She was still, as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You’re still hung up on that girl?” she finally gasped. “Throwing your life away for… ? I don’t understand it.”
Discord was tired. “No.”
“So, that’s it. You really don’t care about your daughter.”
“My answer hasn’t changed.”
“Then help me to understand,” she pleaded. “I don’t know what you want me to say. Is she some sacred princess, the one you’re hung up on? The mother of some other kid you have?”
Discord’s eyes, which had been mostly just tired and uncaring since Candy arrived, narrowed. “I told you not to bring her up. I’m not going to repeat myself again.”
“You’re… you’re being an idiot,” Candy cried. “A selfish, angry old fool!”
“The only idiot I see here is you,” he said, scowling. “Following me all this way... didn’t I leave you on a moon?”
“I’m trying to help you. I don’t know what’s so terrifying about that.”
“You’re a pony I fucked,” Discord scathed. “And as far as I know that thing on your back could be any old bastard’s.”
Candy didn’t hesitate to fire back. “Everything has to be on your terms! Your actions affect others, you know. You think it’s romantic, what you’re doing? You need serious help. I’m saying this to you as a fr-”
“We’re not friends. We’re not lovers, and that brat can go right back where she came from.”
Candy was livid. With one sweep of her foreleg she flung all of Discord’s trinkets from the window sill onto the floor, and there was a loud cracking when a crystal figurine broke apart. She was flushed, but managed to look somewhat stunned at what she had done. Mustering her courage, she stuck out her chin and said, “You want angry, then? Shall I continue? You can feel free to stop taking all your problems out on me, any time!”
Discord was still for a moment, then fixed his stare on Candy. “Get out.” His voice was low and ominous, and she saw the violence in him.
“I will,” she said, backing against a wall. “I’m out. And you are, too, you hear me? You’ll never see-”
“Get out!”
Candy jumped, nearly tripping over the open chest, and fled, leaving Discord breathless with rage, his eyes fixed on the broken crystal strewn across the floor.
***
Discord had fought Fluttershy’s memory for so long, as if it were on a rolling wave; it would come and go again and again, and every so often it ran ashore and he remembered his time with her. There were quiet conversations, the gentle touch of her hoof on his arm, her shy laughter when he’d said something funny. There were long hugs and all-night conversations. He had stroked her mane once, and she had kissed his cheek.
Finally, after two thousand years, he had succeeded in all but forgetting her and was able to find a little peace. And as much as he worked at fending those memories off, he worked even harder to keep Candy Claret away, even at the expense of his own daughter. He’d known it was wrong and felt the guilt weigh him down, for he felt guilt for nearly everything he’d ever done, but by then he was used to brushing it aside and kept running.
His daughter, Caramel Glaze, was more appreciative of his declined mental state than her mother had been, and she was considerably more forgiving. Her desire to have him be a part of her life was mostly stemmed from duty, but she was a bit angry, too. She didn’t want him to run away anymore, not because she loved him but because he was her father and she knew one day he would be too old to run anymore. She felt sorry for him.
She’d mostly stayed away from him because he preferred it that way, but she never stopped trying to bring him into the life a family could offer. Perhaps her tenacity had worn him down, but he didn’t mind her so much now, and saw her as more of a recurring illness than something he had to lock entirely out of his life. Another problem was that this family wasn’t the family he had dreamed of. Back then, if he’d had the chance… he supposed he had just assumed they would get to be together, and when it hadn’t happened he had become lost.
If only I’d told her…
Would they have married? Had foals? Grand-foals? Would they celebrate their own special Hearth’s Warming, creating new traditions to pass on? Would they wake up beside each other each morning, her smile lighting the room? More than once he’d dreamed of their life together, and those mornings when he awoke from the dream he had felt such torture. It was as if Fluttershy’s blue-green eyes were watching him, always disappointed, always blaming.
His inability to cry for her left him feeling guilty, too. He had felt for all of this time that Fluttershy forgiving him would put his own torment to rest, but there was no way that was possible. And even if she were able speak to him again somehow, how would he ever believe her forgiveness if he had not yet learned to forgive himself?
He could have tried to stay with Candy Claret or the various other ponies and creatures he’d met in the cosmos, but always he felt rushed, as if he were late for some important venture he would never have the chance to experience again. These days the mere mention of the word “family” irked him. He had brushed aside the potential for such things after Fluttershy died, and everything had passed him by.
***
Ijma had laid down on the floor as Discord finished his story, her face tucked between her small hooves. “That is so sad.”
Discord shrugged one shoulder, looking at the glass box. “Once a selfish beast, always a selfish beast,” he said savagely.
Tassel was eyeing Discord, his yellow-flecked eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Is it real? I mean, did that really happen?”
“Of course it really happened,” Discord said, a slight edge in his voice. “Do you think I would go to all this trouble if it hadn't?” He indicated the box.
“But what is it?”
Discord sat up straight and summoned the box to him. Using his magic, he cleared a spot on the frosted surface and pointed at it. Tassel and Ijma dutifully peered through the haze to see a tiny land, kept safe and undefiled from the outside world. Lush and green, small rivers, lakes, and mountains spread across the horizon, and if one looked closely enough, just as carefully as they could, they could perhaps see small ponies and animals frolicking and enjoying the sun that almost always shined for them.
“You wanted to see Equestria; here it is,” Discord murmured.
"Wow!" The foals cried.
“It's just a window,” Discord said. “It comes and goes; my magic isn't strong enough to control it anymore. There's something else in there, though.”
Tassel practically pressed his eyeball to the glass. “What is it? I don't see anything.”
Discord glanced at him and snapped his claws. The image of ponies vanished and in its place was a clear crystal key. "Your grandmother always wanted to visit Equestria. Well, here's how you can get there."
"Oh, a key. Where's the door? Is it just a normal door?" Ijma asked.
"I locked the key in there," Discord told her. "I never intended to use it. But someday, when you're a little older, the two of you can probably figure how to get it out. When you have it, use it on my front door here. Make sure you don't lose it; you may never get back. Your mother would be sad."
Ijma was mesmerized by the key and couldn’t take her eyes from it when she said, “Why did she have to die?”
“I don’t know.”
“It was mean. Mean to her and to you."
Discord was lost in thought. “Do you think so?”
“Yes. Was she going to be your wife?”
Discord gently tugged his beard, but Tassel had grown impatient with the conversation. “How did you lock a key in that?” he asked, touching the glass with his hoof. "There's no latch or anything."
Discord let go of his beard and rubbed his forehead as if his head hurt. “I am the god of chaos. And If I could get it in there, I'm sure someday it can be taken out.”
“Can’t we go see it together?” Tassel asked, but Discord shook his head. “Why not?”
“We can’t."
"But why-"
"We can't go," Discord said, and his voice was final.
“How did you make it?” Ijma asked.
“You’d be amazed at what you can find out by reading books. I think I read one by an old wizard pony... I'm afraid I don't recall the name. And I had a little ornament that I-” He stopped short, the memory flooding his veins with adrenaline, and he pushed himself up off the sofa. “Watch this for me,” he told the young ones, indicating the box. “Be careful with it.”
He crept down to the basement again and paused. No, not the basement. He turned in a slow circle, trying to remember. An upper bedroom, hidden from the hallway in a sliver of space and time. That was it. He shut and locked the door behind him, lest his grand-kin come in and touch anything. And there it was, rusted and hidden under a thick layer of dust, boxed up beneath an old child’s pegasus bed frame he was pretty sure he had won in some sort of duel long ago.
Kneeling, he slid the box out and lifted a cold red chest from it. The key had long since been lost, but he hadn't really needed it to begin with, and with one snap of his claws the lock broke apart and clattered onto the floorboards. He took a deep breath and opened the chest, its rough hinges sticking, forcing him to pull it apart with all of his strength.
Some of the objects inside had worn away. A pale yellow velvet cloth covered everything and he gingerly lifted it, edge by edge, until it lay open like a blossom. Inside was a small paper book, the ink faded so much the title was indecipherable. Underneath the remnants of an old dried flower that was hardly more than a pile of black dust were several faded and discolored photographs depicting himself in his relative youth alongside Fluttershy. In each picture both were smiling, even the one where Discord had held up his talons to give Fluttershy rabbit ears and she had turned around to look up at him, her movement blurring the picture. At the very bottom of the chest was a pink heart medal, untarnished.
Tucked into the side next to the medal was what he'd remembered: a badly chipped crystal rabbit figurine which fit perfectly in his paw. Candy Claret had all but shattered it the day she came to call with their daughter, but most of the body was still in one recognizable piece. He had tried to mend it, but his attempts were never perfect enough to satisfy him; it always looked sad and misplaced somehow. The broken pieces he had turned into a key that would allow him to return to Equestria without any magic at all, as his powers weakened. He had made it to see her. But as soon as he'd made it he locked it away, too.
It had been so many, many years since he had been there and he could not see himself returning. Ever since her death, he'd kept the idea in the back of his mind, but each time the tangible decision looked him in the face, he was too afraid to make it.
Before the key, before Candy, he had boxed the rabbit up and forced himself to all but forget about it. And after, too, he tucked it away and locked it in the chest along with other dreams and memories that had died.
So why must I remember it now?
_______________________________
The tree was decorated with colorful baubles and glowing with candlelight and it filled the cottage with its sweet pine scent, the mulled apple cider adding a comforting spice. It was Discord’s very first Hearth’s Warming and Fluttershy leaned against him, watching the fire crackling in the hearth. When she glanced up at him her long lashes made her look coquettish. “I have a present for you,” she said, her voice soft and sweet. He wasn't sure, but he thought he saw her blushing.
“And I you,” he said with a smile.
They were curled up on a knotted rug on the cottage floor, their backs against the sofa and covered with heavy wool blankets. Fluttershy reached behind her. “Here,” she said, and gave him a small package wrapped in white paper.
Discord smiled at her again, and she matched it before settling her chin on his lion arm to watch him open her gift. He gently tore the paper and pushed it aside. A crystal rabbit figurine lay in his paw, highly detailed in a close likeness of Fluttershy's own pet, Angel Bunny.
Fluttershy drew back, blushing for certain this time. “I know it's not much, but I wasn't sure what you might like. I’m afraid Angel had a say in it.”
Discord leaned down to hold her in a tight hug. “It's perfect.”
_______________________________
The memory vanished and Discord was back on the floor of the bedroom, holding the chipped rabbit. What had he given her, he wondered? He had no memory of it.
He sat there, lost in his reverie for a long time until he heard a gentle knock on the door. He quickly wiped the tears from his eyes and tucked the cloth in the chest again before locking it and hiding it underneath the bed frame.
A soft voice called from the hallway, “Discord, a letter's come. I think.”
With a tired sigh he unlocked the door and stepped out from the room to find Caramel Glaze standing before him. In her paw was a small white envelope shaped like a star and sealed with purple wax. He stared at it momentarily, then felt a strange twist in his stomach before taking it. On the back, written over in purple ink, was merely the name Discord.
“How convenient.” He shook his head. “Dimensional time. Thank you. I'd like to read it alone.”
“I wouldn't dream of imposing, you know.” His daughter smiled crookedly and stifled a yawn. “We need to get our rest, anyway. Don't stay up all night with that candlelight or you'll be as blind as Twilight is. Come on, darlings,” she crooned to her foals as she went down the stairs.
“That was just a rumor,” Discord said. “I’m sure she has the vision of eagles.” He made his way to his chambers, a place where not even he ventured much anymore, for the stairs hurt his knees and he was often too feeble to use his magic. Closing the door, he set the envelope on his pillow. He stared at it again, frozen, as if it might attack him, but at last he settled onto his bed, took a long drink of water, and opened it.
Dear Discord,
I had long since thought you were gone from all of our universes, or at least stuck somewhere permanently. You can only imagine my surprise when I received your letter. I sent this with your courier, without any address, so if something goes wrong with this getting to you, you can blame it on him. (Is that something the Princess of Friendship should say?)
Equestria hasn't really changed so much. I have many students now, but I am mostly taking care of Celestia. I told her about you, but I'm afraid she doesn't remember (she's been somewhat senile).
It's funny how some things can remind you of a life you once lived. I'm afraid I must admit I spent much of the night, after receiving your letter, lost in thought and with many tears. You weren't even a memory to me anymore, not really, but a ghost from a dream I had as a filly, perhaps. But remembering you reminded me of all our friends. As princesses, they did stick it out with me for quite a while.
Our Applejack left us first. A few years later, Rainbow Dash was also gone. Only eighty years ago we lost Pinkie Pie and Rarity within days of each other. Their castles are maintained and hardly empty, but I don't get to see them much anymore.
I try to visit Fluttershy’s grave every week. I leave a flower for her, or sometimes a note or photograph. The tree the girls and I planted there is big and old now; you'd never think to associate it with anything tragic. It has been much lived-in with birds and squirrels and is well taken-care of. I've always believed she's happy with it.
My eyesight isn't strong, so I've had to dictate this letter to one of my students. Her name is Fireling and I think you'd get a kick out of her. She's still young and unruly, but reminds me a little of myself.
Celestia's apprentice is doing well; she's strong and patient and loves Celestia very much. I know she will take good care of Equestria. Our new Princess of the Moon has been improving over the years; for a while our nights were very short because she had terrible nightmares and was rarely awake when we needed her to be, but Celestia was always supportive.
If you so desire, please return to us once more. I would be honored to meet with you again, and I am so truly happy you're still with us.
With love and affection,
Twilight Sparkle
Discord held the letter, shaking, then crumpled it in his paw and let it drop to the floor. His emotions were a coil of barbed wire, twisting and cutting and confining him all at once. He hadn't really believed Twilight was still alive, let alone she would remember him or write a letter to him. He hadn't really wanted a reply.
But surely there couldn't be much pain left in thinking about Equestria after all. He still loved Futtershy. But time had passed and done what it did well: make beasts, or in Discord's case, mercifully allow beasts to forget the past.
Home, Discord thought, still nervous but no longer shaking. It certainly never was this place.And the tree? I should like to see it. Maybe she's been unhappy I've been gone for so long. She doesn't think I've forgotten about her, does she?
You have forgotten her.
No. Not quite. Never quite.
The next morning found Discord packing a small rucksack just before dawn. He hadn't slept for long, what with his old bones creaking and his memories haunting and his heart aching. The Hearth’s Warming song from the previous night was still pulling him every-which way. If only he could remember the tune, the words!
Maybe there was still time. He could see Fluttershy’s tree, although it might be winter there, and cold and bare. But perhaps he could stay there a while and wait for spring, if he felt up to it. She had loved spring so, with all the new animals and insects and warm, breezy days.
Not for the damned tree, he thought, and it took all of his will to make himself believe it. For her.
His heart gave another weak flutter. He thought traveling might not be so very bad. He could manage one long trip, he was almost certain, and there was a little time left. There had to be. He would take his few possessions and settle in Equestria as he had always wanted to. Even if he couldn’t have a life with Fluttershy, he could have a chance at finding his peace before he left the cosmos forever.He could try to find it, at least; it was about the only thing he hadn’t tried yet. He could be civil, too, and spend a bit of the holiday with his daughter and her family before leaving.
Caramel and his grand-kin arrived to him locking all of his windows when they returned early the same morning. They had brought a multitude of festive things, and Caramel had pushed through his door without knocking, saying, “I figured we’d come early because the thought of you spending one more holiday alone… what are you doing?” she asked, dropping the pile of wrapped gifts she’d been holding.
“Nothing too complex,” Discord grumbled, not looking up and stuffing a scarf into the top of his rucksack.
“It's here, it's here!” the foals cried, bounding to the glass box which Discord had left out overnight. “Look, mama, look! There are ponies in there! And a key and-”
“Ponies? Haven't seen that in a while,” Caramel said, her gaze moving to the box. “So you told them?”
Discord was silent, looking at the crystal thoughtfully. He shook his head and then patted the heads of his grand-kin. “You two should have this. Take good care of it, now.”
“Really?” Tassel jumped into the air.
Ijma grabbed Discord’s lizard leg in a wild hug. “Oh, thank you!”
“Yes, really. But you must take good care of it; it can't protect itself, so it's up to you to do it.”
“What do we do?” Tassel asked, his eyes glued to the crystal.
Discord bent down and kissed Ijma and Tassel on their heads. “Keep it hidden; don't show it off. Watch them and make sure they stay happy and safe, no matter what.”
“What if they don't?” Ijma asked, her neck craning to see through the glass again.
“Then you must help them.” He winked at her. "You know how to get there." When my time comes, and my magic ceases, he thought. He rolled his stiff shoulders and felt his neck pop. Massaging it, he saw that Caramel was watching him carefully. “Happy Hearth’s Warming, Caramel Glaze,” he told her.
She smiled at him, pitying.
Discord tried to smile, too. “I do love you. I want you to know that.”
Caramel’s smile didn’t change. “I think you want to love me.”
Discord looked sharply at her, then enveloped her in a quick hug. “Those little monsters will keep you busy for a while yet.” He tilted his head toward her offspring. “And… sorry. It doesn’t really mean anything to you, does it? Rather late for it.”
Caramel pursed her lips, then said, “Listen, you don’t have to come with us. See, I brought some gifts for you so you wouldn’t have to leave home.”
Home, Discord thought again, then made a face and looked out the window. “Well. In a dramatic turn of events, I was actually considering it. For real this time. I’m not sure your clan would approve.”
“Mother had a temper, too,” Caramel said diplomatically. “Anyway, she’s gone. Not too many awkward conversations.” She stopped unpacking the gifts she’d brought, uncertain whether or not to continue until she knew Discord’s decision.
His eyes were fixed on the window, but he shouldered his pack. “True.” The song was still tugging at his memory. What were the words? Something sad, something foreign.
... Auld lang…
No, that wasn't it.
Caramel picked up a fallen box with her teeth and noticed a large suitcase sitting by the front door. “What's this? Why did you pack so much?”
Our paths will cross again one day
In time to reunite...
“I’m going out after the holiday,” Discord said with nonchalance. “I won’t have time to come back.”
Caramel hoisted her gift-laden saddle bag over her back. “What do you mean? Going out? Going where?” She held the door open for him as he stepped out into the void.
Discord squeezed the crystal rabbit in his paw. “To see an old friend.”
For family not here, my dears
Havin' journeyed far and wide
For loyalty and kindness both
We smile at days gone by