The passing of Prince Jovian II was hardly unexpected—he’d informed his daughters that he would be leaving the world of the living a full year in advance of his departure, and in that time he’d transferred all of his political powers and responsibilities to them. To her mild surprise, Celestia discovered that, thanks to her poise, her gentle bearing, and her intimidating reputation as a powerful magician, she was quite adept at navigating the twists and turns of Equestrian politics. Of course, her far more introverted sister had a bit more trouble adjusting, but luckily, there were fewer ponies who stayed awake to attend her nightly courts, which meant that she had more free time for her studies, which had expanded from pure magical theory to such matters as military tactics and strategies.
Celestia smiled wistfully as she thought of her sister, and her seeming desire to be prepared for anything and everything. She wished that she had time for distractions of that sort, but it seemed her schedule grew more crowded every day. That meant less time to spend with Luna, of course, but it also meant that Quigley was getting pushed to the side.
Fortunately, despite his initial annoyance, the draconequus seemed to understand the gravity of his friends’ new duties, and immediately set to work on a proposal to improve the lives of their subjects. The eventual fruit of that labor was the reason for their closed-door meeting on this day; Quigley wanted Celestia’s opinion on his idea before he formally presented it to both of the diarchs when they held their weekly joint court.
The draconequus had been silent as Celestia read over his proposal, but the moment she set down the scroll, he leaned towards her and excitedly asked, “Well? What do you think? Will you support my idea?”
Celestia shook her head. “While I most certainly appreciate the thought thou hast put into thy proposal, I must refuse. For one thing, this ‘daylight savings time’ idea would not actually save a single hour of daylight. Those ponies who wished to do so could accomplish the same effect by waking up one hour earlier, and there would be no need to impose this idea upon those who do not wish to change. For another, there are many who would see such a policy as an insult to my sister’s honor; indeed, Luna herself might be found among that number. I see no reason to risk disharmony unless it is absolutely necessary.”
Celestia was somewhat worried about how her friend would handle this rejection of his idea. Quigley, however, merely sighed wistfully. “Oh, well. You can’t say I didn’t try to contribute to the betterment of ponykind.” The draconequus stood up and stretched out his body, causing several vertebrae to pop most conspicuously. “In any case, I think I had better spend a little bit of time in reflection. By your leave, Celestia.”
The white alicorn nodded silently, and Quigley winked away to who-knew-where.
——————————
Dear Luna,
The past few weeks have been quite eventful, as I’m sure you can guess. Twilight Sparkle has given me the impression that Celestia is rather miffed that I have decided not to pursue her suggested approach of showering him with kindness, but that could simply be the result of Twilight’s own doubts about my plan magnifying what might in truth be a mild annoyance on your sister’s part. However, I firmly believe that Discord is not the type who will reciprocate gestures of friendship out of mere gratitude; he needs a reason to actively pursue friendship of his own accord. The problem, of course, is that his history with you and your sister has, whether rightly or wrongly, made him extremely suspicious of friendship as an abstract concept.
All that being said, I do think he is making some progress, if only because his efforts are slowly but surely becoming genuinely amusing. Although he still has yet to determine whether I prefer satire or farce, I do think that he’s beginning to realize that I’m not really a fan of mean-spirited humor. For example, there was a brief period when he decided to use his talent for shapeshifting to do impressions of the Element-Bearers. While it’s certainly true that my friends have various foibles from which much humor may be obtained, Discord seemed unable to point this out in a tactful manner.
Thus, even though he put considerable effort into creating an accurate recreation of Rarity’s appearance and voice, Discord’s non-too-subtle efforts to illustrate how rarely she displays her generosity went rather unappreciated by his audience, which, it should be noted, included Rarity herself at the time. It seems that Discord is hardly the first to accuse her of simply hiding behind her Element to avoid actual situations where she might be expected to give something without any expectation of receiving anything in in return, because she launched into a rather detailed defense, pointing out that generosity performed out in the open often gives the impression that one’s acts are motivated by a desire for attention rather than out of any altruistic impulse. (As a side note, I think that Discord’s chances of evoking laughter would have been much greater had he simply behaved the way Rarity normally did, only speaking with her parents’ St. Paulomino accent instead of the upper-class Canterlot accent she usually affects. Seriously, can you imagine anything more ridiculous than that?)
He had much more success, in my opinion, in the way he poked fun at Rainbow Dash shortly after this incident. Rainbow had pulled “guard duty” for the day, and her patience for Discord’s comic missteps is far lower than anypony else I know. He’d just finished a somewhat hackneyed bit of observational comedy about the differences between earth ponies, pegasi, and unicorns (it seems that earth ponies tend to do things one way, pegasi do those same things in a different way, and unicorns behave in an altogether different fashion). Rainbow Dash did not appreciate this, and asked him if he was doing an impression of a terrible comedian whose jokes were all “super-boring.”
His response, I’m happy to say, was genuinely entertaining, to the degree where it will be worthwhile to actually summarize it here. Discord elaborated on the idea that nothing Rainbow Dash ever does is the slightest bit uninteresting—not even something normally mundane, like going to the post office to purchase stamps. Naturally, Dash wouldn’t simply take the most direct route to her destination, as that would cut down on her opportunities to look impressive. Thus, to get to the post office, which is about a block from her home, Discord speculated that Rainbow Dash starts by flying in the opposite direction, doing loops and corkscrews around any and all clouds along the way until she reached the train station, after which she circles around town until she reaches Sweet Apple Acres, slaloming through the orchard while using trees as pylons, and ascending into the stratosphere before dive bombing through the post office’s roof. This is made all the more impressive by the fact that she’s blindfolded the entire time. And, of course, once she reaches the post office, a full symphony orchestra plays tense, melodramatic music as she waits in line, as a fan machine blows her mane and tail behind her so she doesn’t lose the sensation of traveling at speeds above the spectrum barrier. And to top it all off, the stamps she eventually purchases commemorate her adventure of going to the post office to purchase those very stamps.
I couldn’t help but smile broadly as his little tirade ended, but unfortunately for Discord, smiles don’t count in this game. He did do a rather thorough job of pointing out how utterly impractical it would be if Rainbow Dash always acted in line with the persona she presents to the public, but it didn’t tickle my metaphorical funny bone enough to induce me to laugh. Ironically, though, I don’t think he was actually attempting to make me laugh at the time; indeed, he may even be unaware of how close he was to success, as his focus at the time was not on me, but on Rainbow Dash, whom he clearly wanted to upset (which he failed to do, as Rainbow Dash seems to enjoy the notion that everything she does is imbued with over-the-top awesomeness).
It must be said, though, that I am beginning to enjoy Discord’s company. Strained attempts at comedy aside, he really is an interesting conversationalist. Hearing bits and pieces of his side of the story of his defeat is quite intriguing, even if I have no way of knowing how much (if any) of it is true, though if he really was the one who came up with Daylight Savings Time, I suppose that makes him ultimately responsible for providing the opening that allowed me to corrupt you in the first place. Given the chaos that eventually erupted from Celestia’s ill-fated decision to reconsider his idea, it does make me wonder if he knew I was developing in your mind at the time he proposed it. I have, of course, not told him of this, as I think that such baseless speculation would be an unneeded distraction in his rehabilitation, but it is an interesting notion, if nothing else.
Even though Discord probably wouldn’t believe me if I told him, I really do want him to succeed. I still remember what it’s like to be consumed with self-centeredness, and I’m just as convinced that the quality of his life will improve as much as mine did if he takes a similar path. And yet, despite his self-absorption, I can’t help but wonder if Discord has ever really tried “being himself,” as the cliché goes—not just now, during this attempt at rehabilitation, but even after his initial manifestation. The way he’s acting right now does not differ from your memories of him a millennium ago. This is pure speculation, but I can’t shake the feeling that, despite his professed resentment of you and especially of Celestia, he is still trying to be Quigley after all these years.
But the hour grows late, and I begin to ramble. I have finished the basic infrastructure for the added seating at the coronation, and will be shipping it to Canterlot shortly. If you would be kind enough to make sure they are stored in lower-stratosphere conditions, I would be most appreciative. Please give my regards to your sister.
Your friend,
Penumbra
P.S. In the rather unlikely circumstance that Celestia truly is as upset as Twilight claims, feel free to remind her of what happened the last time I tried to be like her.
——————————
“He’s inside here,” Apple Bloom said as she guided Scootaloo to the doors of the spare barn. “Applejack says he decided to take the afternoon off to think up some new material, or somethin’ like that.”
“Thanks, Apple Bloom,” Scootaloo said as she rummaged through her saddlebag to make sure she had a pencil and notebook.
“Are ya sure you wanna do this, though? I thought you were gonna interview Rainbow Dash for the project.”
“She’s the backup plan in case Discord isn’t interested.”
“But why would you wanna talk to him in the first place?”
Scootaloo shifted her weight in mild embarrassment. “Um, well, my last report card wasn’t exactly impressive, so I figured if I turn in something Miss Cheerilee’s never seen before, she’s bound to give me extra credit, right?”
“Uh, I guess so. Just... holler if’n he gets outta hoof, okay?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine,” Scootaloo said confidently as she walked up to the doors and knocked.
“Who is it?” came a muffled, singsong reply.
It was as if all of the filly’s confidence had suddenly dried up. “Um, my name’s Scootaloo, Mr. Discord. I’m... I’m a friend of Apple Bloom’s.”
“Scootaloo? Wait, are you that orange pegasus filly? The one who gets easily tweaked whenever somepony calls her a chicken?”
“I am not a chicken!”
“Oh, yeah, you’re definitely the one I’m thinking of.” Discord said as the barn door burst open, nearly clipping Scootaloo on the nose. He stood in the doorway wearing a smoking jacket and holding an ebony pipe. “How may I help you?” he asked before putting the pipe in his mouth and blowing out several cubical bubbles.
“Well, um, I’m supposed to interview somepony for a project on Ponyville’s history. Miss Cheerilee said it should be somepony—um, I mean, somebody—who either knows about or took part in important events in the town’s past. And, well, since you sort of moved here when you came back the first time and made everything all crazy, I thought you’d be a good pony—um, I mean...”
“Draconequus,” Discord said flatly, his face showing no amusement whatsoever.
“Right. I thought you’d be a good dragon-eggs to talk to.” Scootaloo was really starting to wish she’d just asked Rainbow Dash like she’d originally intended.
“Sure, why not?” Discord responded, his mood abruptly becoming so chipper that Scootaloo initially thought he was doing some sort of Pinkie Pie impression. The chimera smiled broadly as he explained, “After all, I do owe you and your friends for breaking me out of that statue in the first place. If you hadn’t, I might never have had anything to do with Ponyville!”
Scootaloo glanced nervously at Apple Bloom, who was biting her lip as if she was afraid that she might accidentally enter the conversation if even the slightest noise escaped from her. The pegasus filly sighed and turned back to the massive creature in the doorway. “Uh, thank you, Mr. Discord.”
“Oh, there’s no need to be so formal. Call me Discord. Please, come in!”
“Uh, thank you.”
“And will you be joining us, Apple Bloom?”
“Um, actually, I was gonna go an’ interview my sister for the same project. But, uh, she’s buckin’ trees on that hill over there, in easy earshot, so if somethin’ weird happens, she’ll know.”
Discord smirked. “Why not wait until her chores are over?”
“Um... well... uh... heyisthatGrannySmithcallingottagobye!” Apple Bloom scurried back towards the farmhouse as fast at a full gallop.
“And she calls me a chicken,” Scootaloo grumbled as she followed Discord inside the barn. “Whoa,” she said as she looked around the building’s interior.
“Ah, I see you’ve noticed my design scheme.”
“You... you haven’t done anything to it! It looks exactly like the inside of a barn!”
Discord glowed with pride. “I know! Applejack is probably going to spend weeks scouring this place for booby traps once I move out. Well, assuming that she isn’t busy with other things....”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Never mind. You’re hear to talk with me about Ponyville, correct?” he said as he floated over to the doors.
“Uh, right. Um... would you mind not closing that door? I’d... well... I...”
“You want an escape route,” Discord finished for her. “Perfectly understandable. After all, I can be quite intimidating when I want to be.”
“Oh... thanks,” Scootaloo said awkwardly as she pulled her pencil and notepad out of her saddlebag. “Um, there’s a few standard questions to ask before I get started.”
Discord nodded understandingly as he floated in mid-air, blowing more oddly-shaped bubbles through his pipe. “Go on.”
“Okay,” Scootaloo said, looking at a checklist that she’d set down in front of her. “What is your full name?”
“Discord.”
“That’s it? You don’t have a second name that you just never use?”
Discord’s facial features tightened menacingly. “No, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll move on to your next question.”
“Um, alright. How old are you?”
The draconequus shrugged briefly before he answered, “Oh, a thousand years or so. I’ve never really bothered to keep count; I was a statue for most of them.”
Scootaloo finished writing Discord’s answer, and moved on to her next question: “What is your occupation?”
“Monarch Emeritus of Equestria.”
“You mean like a butterfly?”
“No,” Discord said, “but now that I think of it, that might make for an interesting joke—especially if I mix them with termites...”
“Uh, okay,” Scootaloo said slowly, feeling quite certain that she didn’t want to know what Discord was talking about. “So what does a Monarch Em... uh, what do you do?”
“Oh, I used to rule Equestria as King Discord, until Celestia and Luna rather unceremoniously forced me into retirement. And by ‘retirement,’ I mean ‘a statue in their sculpture garden.’”
“I thought Twilight Sparkle and her friends did that,” Scootaloo said with confusion.
Discord sighed. “I hadn’t actually made claim to my title the second time around. Besides, don’t you have a checklist to go through before you get to the good stuff?”
“Oh, right. What’s your favorite color?”
“Well, it used to be magenta, until a certain pony decided to be a spoilsport and refuse to cut loose with her power so I could have some fun with her, but I suppose argyle will do.”
Scootaloo didn’t know what gargoyles had to do with colors, but she never liked that particular question. “Let’s see... ‘What’s your sign?’” she asked, reading the question off with mild confusion in her voice.
“It’s a stop sign,” Discord said, producing an octagonal piece of red sheet metal. “See?”
“Uh, right. Okay, last one before we get into the main part of the interview. Do you have any close friends, relatives, or a special somepony?”
“No, no, and most definitely yes.”
“Really?” Scootaloo asked as her ears perked up attentively. She’d never expected to hear anything like this when she’d first decided to interview Discord. “Who is it?”
“Why, it’s me, of course!” Instantly, an exact copy of Discord in a black evening gown materialized next to the original.
“Oh, Discord,” said lady-Discord in a voice that sounded exactly like regular-Discord’s voice, “I can’t bear to be apart from your raw masculinity any longer! Take me! Take me now!”
“I think I’m going to be sick...”
“Hmph,” Discord said as his counterpart vanished. “Sounds to me like somepony needs to learn to accept alternative lifestyles. But that can wait until later. Please, continue with your interview.”
“Uh, right,” Scootaloo said as she flipped a page of her notebook. “So, when did you first come to Ponyville?”
“Oh, shortly after you and your friends released me. I figured if the three of you could cause that much chaos with an argument, then your hometown must be a nexus of lunacy. As it turned out, I was right.”
“So, it wasn’t because of anything you’d heard about before becoming a statue?” Scootaloo asked, hoping that Discord would provide something that would remove a little bit of responsibility from the Cutie Mark Crusaders.
“Ponyville hadn’t been founded yet.”
“Oh, right.” Given that Apple Bloom’s grandmother was one of the town’s founders, Scootaloo really should have known that. “Okay, so, why choose Ponyville then?”
“Two reasons. First, why not? Second, Twilight and her friends live here, and I wanted to mess with their heads. And I did a rather impressive job, if I may say so.”
“Um, alright,” Scootaloo said as she scribbled Discord’s answers onto her notepad. “So, how did you go about making Ponyville so... weird?”
“Well, a lot of it is chaos magic that isn’t really accessible to most ponies.”
“No, I mean, how did you decide what to do? Like, I know Big Macintosh thought he was a dog, but... why’d you decide to do that?”
“Whimsy,” Discord replied.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. Chaos is easy to pull off, my dear. As long as you steadfastly avoid thinking about the consequences of your actions, more often than not, you’ll end up making life more interesting.”
“But isn’t that kind of irresponsible?” Scootaloo asked. “I mean, you can’t just do whatever you want without considering how other ponies might feel.”
Discord stared at the filly for a few seconds with an incredulous look on his face. He then plucked a small object from nowhere and handed it to her.
“Huh?” Scootaloo asked as she stared at the pocket-sized mirror she’d just received. “What does this have to do with anything? Is there something on my face?”
“Never mind,” Discord said. “Go on to your next question.”
“Okay,” Scootaloo replied. “Is there anything you like about Ponyville? You know, when you’re not causing chaos in it?”
“Hmm... well, I do like the fact that it’s close to the Everfree Forest. Have you ever been there?”
“Uh, yeah. Magic doesn’t work right in there, though.”
“I know! To think, it still inspires fear and panic to this day—I do believe it might be my masterpiece.”
“Hang on. You made the Everfree forest so... so... scary?!”
“I prefer the word ‘chaotic,’ but yes.”
“Why?”
“Well, before the Everfree Forest was there, the Everfree Plains had the most fertile soil in Equestria. So, when my subjects rashly decided that they didn’t want me to be king anymore, I ripped the ethereal fabric of the region into teeny-tiny shreds and set them on fire, metaphorically speaking.”
“But... why would you do that?”
“To punish those ingrates for their insolence, of course. It wasn’t as though they actually needed all those farms. After all, I could create all the food they’d ever need with my own magic. But they kept pitching fits, and one thing led to another, and boom, I’m a statue.”
“Well, then is that why you decided to come back to Ponyville?”
“Oh, goodness no. I came back because Celestia hauled me over here while I was still a statue. The second statue, of course.”
“Alright... so, what made you stay?”
“It’s not so much what is making me stay as who. Specifically, yon local cloudsmith,” Discord said, pointing out an open window in the general direction of Cloud Nineteen.
“So, um, you’re friends with Penumbra, then?”
“Ha!” Discord said. “She only wishes we were. Look, has Apple Bloom told you about the little game we have?”
“A little bit. Something about making Penumbra laugh, and you get a prize, or something like that.”
“Eh, more or less. I’d have won by now if Penumbra hadn’t let Applejack decide on the rules.”
“What rules?”
“No fair thinking of an easy way to win,” Discord said with obvious irritation in his voice.
“Huh?”
“Never mind. My point is that I can see exactly what Penny’s trying to do.”
“Uh, okay,” Scootaloo said, unsure of how the interview had managed to get so far off topic. “What is Penumbra trying to do?”
“Instead of going out of her way to be my friend, she thinks she can make me befriend her, because that’s the only way I’ll get to know her well enough to figure out what will make her laugh. But the joke’s on her, because I’ve gotten around that little problem. I managed to get a smile out of her just the other day. A real one, not the kind she puts on when she’s about to make some pithy comment. I figure a real laugh is only a matter of time.”
Discord appeared to be quite proud of his accomplishment, and in a weird way, Scootaloo felt honored that she was the pony he’d chosen to share it with, but that didn’t remove the desire to shrink away from the draconequus’ disturbingly smug grin. “Oh, uh, that’s... nice, I guess. But, um, aren’t you worried that she’ll find out? Um, I did mention this was for a school project, right?”
“You did indeed, and I told you because it won’t matter if she finds out. She’ll probably just conclude that I’m deluding myself. Trust me, I know how ponies like Penumbra think. If anything, she’ll start letting her guard down around me.”
“So... you don’t like Penumbra very much then?”
Discord opened his mouth as if to give a quick, dismissive answer, but paused before a single sound escaped from him. After a few seconds of reconsideration, he answered, “Well, I suppose that when push comes to shove, she is fun to be around. Just not in the usual way.”
Scootaloo seemed confused by this answer. “What the heck does that mean?”
Discord rubbed his lower lip as he mulled over his response. “It’s somewhat difficult to put into words, but being around Penumbra is like having your own personal running commentary on reality, and a pleasantly sardonic one at that.”
“Huh? What do sardines have to do with it?”
Discord rolled his eyes at this question. “Get a dictionary, kid. In any case, she has a quick wit and is quite skilled at making cutting remarks, which initially annoyed me until I noticed that she acts that way with regard to everypony, even her closest friends.”
“Oh, uh, okay.”
“I guess another way to put it is that although making her laugh is challenging, I’m actually finding the challenge to be quite stimulating for my... creativity,” Discord said.
Figuring that ending the interview on a high note would look more impressive (and might therefore lead to a correspondingly high grade), the pegasus filly decided to take her leave. “Well, best of luck to you. It can’t be easy getting a laugh out of a pony who’s really good at holding them back.”
“Excuse me?!” Discord abruptly cried out, giving Scootaloo the distinct impression that she had said precisely the wrong thing. “What did you just say?”
“Er, best of luck to you?”
“The other thing you just said.”
“Oh, the part about how Penumbra holds back her laughs? Uh, well, it turns out that her laughs sound almost exactly the same as Nightmare Moon’s, and since this is the town were Nightmare Moon returned, a lot of ponies around are, you know, sensitive about it. Like, she gives foals bad dreams when she laughs, that sort of thing. Uh, but not me. Definitely not me. My dreams are totally awesome no matter how many creepy laughs I hear before I go to bed. Speaking of which, I should probably get home and turn in...”
“It’s five o’clock,” Discord replied, his face twisting into a scowl. “Finish explaining.”
Scootaloo was starting to sweat nervously; the knot in her stomach was now far worse than it had been at the start of the interview. “Uh, well, Pinkie Pie told me that Penumbra basically learned how to stop herself from laughing. You know, to make things less awkward. She said it’s almost impossible to make Penumbra laugh against her will.”
Discord’s nostrils flared out angrily as he stared out of an open window in the barn at an odd-looking cloud formation. “Is that so?” he asked through grinding teeth, which were starting to emit small sparks.
“Uh... maybe I should... go... now...?” Scootaloo proposed meekly as she shifted towards the barn doors.
Discord didn’t even turn his head as he answered, “Maybe you should.”
——————————
There wasn’t a single cloud in the starry sky over Sweet Apple Acres as the three hooded figures emerged from their freshly-dug tunnel and began to make their way towards the Apples’ spare barn. They moved as stealthily as possible, doing all they could to avoid detection... until, that is, the Ponyville clock tower struck three times, startling the smallest of the Diamond Dogs, who let out a high-pitched yip as he clambered onto the shoulders of the largest.
Rover smacked a paw against his forehead in frustration before growling angrily at Spot in their raspy native tongue. Reluctantly, Spot left his perch on Fido’s shoulders and returned to the ground. After several more muffled reprimands, the trio continued towards the barn. Soon, they were close enough to see light streaming through the edges of the door. Rover chose to take this as a good omen: it meant that they wouldn’t have to rouse the one they hoped to meet from his slumber. As they reached the large barn door, Rover balled his paw into a fist and reached out to knock, only for the door suddenly swing inward, creating a gust of wind that extinguished the light inside.
At this point, one might assume that the three Diamond Dogs were unnerved by their situation, but one would be wrong. They were, in fact, absolutely terrified. In fact, they probably would have fled were it not for the fact that the Great and Powerful Trixie had produced more than enough gems for the pack (which, of course, they’d immediately traded to dragons) to keep them rather severely indebted to her for quite some time, and common sense said that you did not cross a pony who was powerful enough to created flawless gemstones.
With a great deal of trepidation, the three Diamond Dogs shuffled inside the barn. “Hello?” Rover said tremulously. “Someone is here, yes?”
Suddenly the door slammed shut again, plunging the canines into darkness. The three of them backed away from the door as fast as they could, until Fido tripped over a bale of hay, causing the three of them to form an accidental dogpile. “What next?” asked Spot in a high-pitched whimper.
“Boo.”
A large, chimeric monstrosity chuckled to himself as he relit the lamps around the barn and stared up at the ceiling. “And here I was under the impression that dogs weren’t climbers,” he said as he looked at the visitors clinging to the rafters. “I’d probably subject you to some more lunacy, but quite frankly, I’m curious as to why anyone would want to call on me at three in the morning.”
As the seconds passed by without any further aggression from the draconequus, the three Diamond Dogs returned to the floor, though they instinctually stayed close together for protection. “You are Discord, yes?” Rover finally said, his voice cracking into a falsetto halfway through the final word.
“The one and only,” replied the chimera. “And who might you be?”
“We are here for the Great and Powerful Trixie,” Fido said with absolutely no emotion in his voice whatsoever, giving the distinct (and not entirely inaccurate) impression that he had committed his part in this presentation to rote memory.
“The Great and Powerful Trixie?” Discord asked.
“You have heard of her greatness?” Rover asked.
“Well, I don’t know about ‘greatness,’ but I have heard few things about her,” Discord replied in an annoyed grumble. “Like her knack for spoiling all my best ideas....” he trailed off, leaving only an awkward silence that endured for several excruciating seconds.
Somehow, Spot managed to muster enough courage to make the trio’s main pitch: “The Great and Powerful Trixie wishes to form an alliance with you.”
Discord cocked an eyebrow skeptically, but other than that, he seemed to willing to entertain the idea. “For what purpose?”
“The Great and Powerful Trixie...” Fido trailed off, having forgotten what he was supposed to say.
“Overthrow the Princesses,” Rover whispered harshly.
“Oh, right. She wants to throw the Princesses over,” Fido corrected himself.
“Eh, close enough,” Discord said, shrugging off the large canine’s difficulties with the language. “So, is there any particular reason she waited until now to contact me?”
Rover seemed uncertain how to answer this. “Um, the Great and Powerful One did not tell us.”
“Is that so? And how, pray tell, did whatshername know I was getting frustrated? Has she had me under surveillance this whole time?”
“Uh, no,” Rover said. “The Great and Powerful Trixie knows nothing of the attempt to reform you, other than the fact that it is happening. She assumes that you will not reform because you are Discord.”
“Huh... well, I suppose that means she isn’t an idiot.”
“Oh, no!” Rover answered. “Her Greatness is surely the wisest of ponies.”
“Indeed... and where exactly is your dear leader right now?”
Rover scratched the back of his head nervously; somehow, he got the odd feeling that giving a straightforward answer would carry far more risk than he was comfortable with, but his Equestrian vocabulary, though adequate for most purposes, wasn’t quite detailed enough for the level of subtlety he would have liked. “Um... she is in a cave to the south.”
Discord stroked his goatee thoughtfully with one of his talons. “Hmm... to the south, you say? This cave wouldn’t happen to be in the Badlands, now would it?” he asked with a malicious smirk.
“How did he know?!” Spot cried out in panic.
“Are you sure you want to know the answer to that question?” Discord said, grinning maliciously.
The three Diamond Dogs almost immediately decided that this was not, in fact, the pressing issue that Spot had initially assumed it to be. “Shall we take you to see the Great and Powerful Trixie?” Rover asked, his voice quavering nervously.
“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” the draconequus answered. “I can make my own travel arrangements.” With that, Discord snapped his talons and vanished in a puff of smoke.
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Trixie sat on her crystal throne, soaking in the perfection of the room’s new decor as she wallowed in her own greatness and power. Within a few days, Rover, Fido, and Spot would be returning, and with any luck, they would be accompanied by the infamous Discord. Soon, all the pieces would be in place, and her plan could proceed. All that remained was to secure the cooperation of this potential ally, but there was plenty of time to consider—
The would-be autocrat was suddenly jolted from her visions of power and greatness by a huge cloud of dust that spontaneously appeared in her throne room, causing her to cough and gag on the airborne particles. “Ooh, sorry about that,” said a broad, flat voice that carried not a drop of sincerity. It took nearly a minute for the dust to settle and reveal the voice’s owner.
“Discord?! What are you doing here?”
The draconequus shrugged. “Standing, apparently.”
Trixie’s eye twitched ever-so-slightly in annoyance. “That is not what I meant. Why are you here?”
“Well, your minions left me with the rather distinct impression that you had some business to discuss with me.”
It was a far more reasonable answer than Trixie would ever have expected from Discord, which threw her off for a few seconds. “Oh, well, yes, I suppose I do, but the Great and Powerful Trixie was expecting to have a chance to, well, tidy up a bit. Also, she had assumed that her minions would be coming back with you.”
Discord stared at the caped showpony with a decidedly skeptical squint in his left eye. “Do you always switch between the first and third person like that?”
Trixie snorted derisively. “Trixie uses whatever pronouns will maximize her dramatic effect at any given moment,” she said, perhaps a little too insistently. In truth, she hadn’t noticed this rather distressing inconsistency—apparently, she’d gotten sloppy during her first hiatus from Ponyville. Still, important though such matters were, she didn’t have time to dwell on their implications at the moment.
“Hey, I’m not complaining,” Discord said as he raised his arms defensively. “Never let it be said that Discord criticized somepony for breaking arbitrary rules of grammar. Speaking of arbitrary rules, if we’re going to discuss business, we may as well start with formal introductions.”
This was not what Trixie had expected to hear. “Uh, you’ll have to forgive my confusion, but I never would have suspected that you’d be interested in formality.”
“Oh, there’s nothing wrong with being formal, my dear. It’s consistency that’s unrelentingly boring. Now, where was I? Oh, yes. I am Discord, Monarch Emeritus of Equestria.” The draconequus ended his sentence with a low, distinctly old-fashioned-looking bow.
“And I am the Great and Powerful Trixie,” replied the showpony, who did not return the gesture.
“That’s it?” Discord asked. “No list of pretentious titles?”
“The Great and Powerful Trixie needs no additional titles to convey that which is already self-evident in her name.”
“Ah, so you don’t have any other titles yet.”
“That is beside the point,” Trixie said brusquely. “Additional titles are nothing more than unnecessary embellishment.” Hoping to shift the subject away from her dearth of accolades, she climbed down from her crystal throne and began trotting around the chamber. “You are currently standing in a private chamber of my personal headquarters—though I suppose it isn’t nearly as private as I thought. It is from here that I intend to launch my bid for power, with the assistance of my loyal Diamond Dog minions.”
Discord, however, didn’t appear to have been listening. Instead, he was casting his gaze around the chamber, taking in the decor. In Trixie’s own opinion, she had made vast improvements to its previous state. Gone were the flowing, curved artworks, and with them their distressing tendency to ebb and flow with disturbing irregularity. In their place were carefully selected and crafted examples of regular solids, each of which had been repeatedly checked to verify their uniform precision before being accorded the honor of being allowed in the presence of the Great and Powerful Trixie to bring her joy and comfort.
By comparison, Discord’s opinion seemed far less enthusiastic. “Hmm... very angular. This isn’t quite how I remember leaving this cave the last time I was here....”
Trixie’s eyes widened in horror—the possibility that Discord might have been the previous resident of her cave had never once occurred to her. “This is... was your cave?”
“Oh, no, my dear. Rather it was temporary housing for some... former associates of mine.”
“I see,” Trixie said. She paused as she carefully thought over the best way to phrase her next question. “Did you perchance have a strong opinion about the previous state of the cave?”
“Well, I’ve only been here once before, and that was before anypony had done any interior decorating, though I did chip in some help with the door, in a manner of speaking. So, is this throne room your work, or that of the previous tenants?”
The Great and Powerful Trixie briefly considered her options. On the one hoof, Discord seemed impressed with the idea that one pony could do all the work on display in the room, which in turn implied that it reflected well on her Greatness and Power. On the other hoof, most of the work had been finished before she got here, and all she’d done was to make a few much-needed improvements to enhance the regularity of the chamber’s geometry. This didn’t sound nearly as impressive, but it didn’t carry the risks associated with getting caught in a lie.
Fortunately, Trixie had more than two hooves. “It was the Great and Powerful Trixie alone who transformed this cave into a place worthy of a pony for her stature.” This was not technically a lie at all—even if the basic infrastructure had already been in place, there had been far too many curves and other imperfections to properly reflect the precision of her superiority.
Luckily, Discord seemed willing to leave the matter at that. “So, you’re trying to take over, then? And presumably, you want my assistance?”
“Well, that would make things a bit simpler.”
“And why would I want to help you?”
“Because when the dust has settled, the two of us can divide Equestria into our own spheres of influence. We can work out the specifics if you choose to enter into this alliance, but rest assured that if we succeed, you will control large areas which you’ll be able to rule according to your whims, while I will be able to recreate society from the ground up in my own territory.”
Discord scratched his chin as he looked over his potential collaborator. “Hmm... I don’t know. Celestia and Luna aren’t exactly pushovers. How do I know you won’t just stand back and make me do all the work?”
Trixie was a bit miffed that her greatness and power had been so bluntly questioned. “Ha! Anything they can do, the Great and Powerful Trixie can do better. Name one feat of theirs, and I shall replicate it.”
“Raising the sun.”
“Allow me to rephrase that. Name one feat of theirs that can be replicated inside a cave.”
Discord pondered this for a while, but he soon came up with a response. “Well, back in the day, Luna did have quite a knack for dispelling my chaos magic. But then again, she was the Bearer of Magic at the time, so perhaps that’s to be expected...”
Trixie’s ears perked up at the mention of the Element of Magic. Unless she was mistaken (and she wasn’t), that was the same Element that was under the command of her nemesis, Twilight Sparkle! All at once, the pieces of her otherwise inexplicable defeat finally fell into place. Not only had the Alicorn Amulet been holding her back, but Twilight Sparkle must have been drawing on the power of her Element as well! At the end of the day, Little Miss Goody-Four-Shoes was nothing but a rotten cheater! But things were different now. Trixie Lulamoon had ascended to heights of greatness and power even more dizzying than the normal mind could comprehend. Anything that the Element of Magic could do, she could do better. Neigh, she would do better. “Very well,” she announced. “Perform a spell of your most chaotic imaginings, and I shall revert its effects.”
“Okay... let’s see.... Ah! Here’s a good one.” Discord snapped his fingers and suddenly the entire room seemed to be bending and bowing, as if being viewed through a fisheye lens.
“What did you do?”
“Oh, I just changed the rules of geometry a bit. Now the angles of a triangle add up to 200 degrees, at least in this room. It took Luna a solid fifteen minutes to dispel this one from her bedroom, which was about the same size as this chamber, so I’d say it’s a pretty good benchmark. Have fun!” Discord sat back in an invisible (and more than likely nonexistent) chair to observe Trixie’s efforts.
Ordinarily, dispelling magic like this would require a mage to carefully pull away at strands in the ether until the chaos had been completely unraveled, followed by an equally careful reconstruction of the status quo. This, however, was not an ordinary circumstance, at least as far as the Great and Powerful Trixie was concerned. The whole room, which only minutes ago had been a veritable monument to joys of precision and perfection, had suddenly become nauseatingly wrong. There was no time to deal with such inanities like magical theory—she needed to act before all her hard work dissolved into a logical ataxia.
The Great and Powerful Trixie’s eyes flared red, and it was as though the wind off of a speeding train had rushed through the chamber, expelling the entropy that had befouled the room in a matter of seconds, leaving all her precious solids regular once again, and leaving Discord absolutely dumbfounded.
“Okay... that was impressive. So, when do we take over?”
Once again, Trixie was thrown off by the draconequus’ comments. “You’re... agreeing to help me? Just like that?”
“Of course! After all, I don’t think I’d want to be going up against you. I may be a nutcase, but I’m not a moron.”
This almost sounded too good to be true. “Really? You aren’t even interested in why I want power?”
“Nope! As far as I’m concerned, your reasons don’t matter all that much; I simply refuse to let a chance to shake things up pass me by. It’s against my principles, you see. Now then, do you have a timetable in place, or did you actually expect me to help you... ugh... plan your little coup d’état?”
“Uh, well, I had a rough idea, but I thought you might not want to get bogged down with details.”
“Great! Planning was my least favorite thing about the last time I tried a putsch. When do we strike?”
“During the upcoming coronation,” Trixie responded. Her voice was relatively quiet, but as she explained the reason behind her choice it began to rapidly crescendo: “I can’t wait to see the look on Twilight Sparkle’s face when she’s finally forced to admit the superiority of the Great and Powerful Trixie!”
Discord seemed taken aback. “Seriously? This is about petty revenge?”
“No! Of course not. It’s far more complicated.”
The draconequus sighed. “Well, that’s a shame, because petty revenge is a motive I can really get behind.”
“Oh. Well, in that case, yes, it is mostly petty revenge.”
“Splendid!” Discord cried as he snapped his talons and produced two ostentatiously jeweled goblets and a large bottle of mead. He was just about to begin pouring a generous serving when he suddenly froze. “Oh, hang on. If we’re forming an alliance, you’ll probably want something that won’t explode in your stomach.”
“Er, no.”
Discord unceremoniously chucked the bottle over his shoulder (the resulting explosion nearly knocked Trixie’s favorite icosahedron off its stand) and produced a white cardboard carton to replace it. “I hope you don’t mind half-and-half,” he said as poured the creamy dairy product into the goblets and handed one to Trixie, who grasped it in her magical aura.
“It will suffice, I suppose.” She lifted her goblet above her head. “To victory!”
Discord likewise raised his goblet in the air. “To petty revenge!”
Seconds later, the contents of the goblets had been quaffed, and Discord indulged in a burp, followed by a low chortle which gradually built into a disturbingly loud cachinnation. It didn’t take long before the Great and Powerful Trixie joined him in his gloating laughter, letting loose a high-pitched, triumphant cackle of her own that echoed throughout the cavern for what felt like hours to the pack of Diamond Dogs who had been accidentally roused from their slumber by the sudden noise.
It felt good to finally make a pony laugh.