Playing with their mutual imaginary friend turned out to be a creative challenge for both princesses. While Luna had very little experience with imaginary friends of any sort, Celestia had never before shared one with another pony. However, after some trial and error, the two sisters had worked out a rather effective system: Celestia would act the part of Quigley, while Luna would devise fantastic scenarios for the draconequus to react to. Still, even though Luna had lost much of her initial skepticism, there were still aspects of Quigley’s personality that confused her, as was evident one midsummer day, when she and Celestia were galloping through the royal gardens, having seized a nonexistent yet powerful artifact from the imagined clutches of an illusory wicked sorceress—with Quigley’s assistance, of course.
Eventually, the two royals slowed to a halt near a statue of their mother beneath a large oak tree. “And that,” Celestia said in the broad, flat, slightly nasal voice she’d developed for their creation, “is why you never give sour eggnog to a three-headed monkey.”
Luna covered her mouth with a hoof in a vain attempt to stifle a giggle. “Well said, Sir Quigley.”
“Oh, you needn’t bother with the ‘Sir’ business,” Quigley-Celestia replied. “All the pomp and ceremony of knighthood would put a serious damper on my fun time.”
At this, Luna grew quiet, causing Celestia to revert to her normal speaking voice. “Does something trouble thee, sister?”
“Well, ’tis no matter of extreme importance, but...”
“...but there’s no reason thou shouldst let thy question go unasked.”
Luna sighed and nodded. “If Quigley is our friend, then why does he speak so formally to us?”
Celestia smirked. “I hardly think that conversations about sour eggnog are ‘formal.’”
“But he never uses ‘thou’ or ‘thee,’ only ‘you.’”
“Ah, well, you see, Quigley is not one to follow any sort of rules, whether they be of logic or of etiquette, and thus has no reason to treat anypony as if their rank matters. He uses the formal pronoun for us for the same reason that he would for the lowliest rustic—because that is what he feels like doing.”
———————————
With the addition of her new fear spell, The Great and Powerful Trixie had become a formidable opponent indeed; even though the Element-Bearers soon figured out how to recover from it, the illusions of their greatest fears still felt incredibly real every time the spell hit one of them, and that was enough to interrupt any attempt to use the Elements of Harmony. Besides that, being repeatedly subjected to these scenes was still emotionally draining; real or not, it didn’t take very long for Applejack to grow weary of attending funerals for her remaining family members, and she suspected that her friends felt the same way.
Nor did it help that The Great and Powerful Trixie seemed to have gotten over any concerns she had about protecting the “perfection” of the cave from collateral damage. She freely mixed blasts of raw magical power in with her fear spells, making it difficult to brace for either one, because there seemed to be no way to anticipate which spell would be loosed each time Trixie’s horn charged up.
Eventually, Twilight Sparkle managed to figure out that The Great and Powerful Trixie was using a complex pattern based on prime numbers—apparently, she would have figured it out sooner, but Trixie had forgotten that “1” wasn’t prime. Unfortunately, actually pointing this error out to a pony who was under the influence of history’s most psychotic perfectionist turned out to be an even bigger mistake. As the sickening green glow of her eyes flared out, Trixie wheeled around and directed her strongest fear spell yet directly at Celestia.
Applejack hadn’t the slightest idea what Princess Celestia’s greatest fear was, but as she watched the most steadfast, resolute pony she had ever met in her life collapse to the ground and listened to the most anguished wails and sobs she’d ever heard, she wasn’t all that certain that she wanted to know what twisted scene was playing out in Celestia’s mind. Neither did Luna’s desperate pleas to her sister insisting that “You are still worthy of their love!” paint an optimistic picture of the scenario.
Indeed, Applejack actually felt a bizarre sense of relief when Twilight instructed them to fall back and regroup, simply because she now had something to dwell on other than the suffering of her princess.
The Great and Powerful Trixie, however, did not seem to think that this retreat was temporary. “Yes... fall back! Call a war council! It will avail you nothing. The Great and Powerful Trixie’s victory is inevitable—she is perfection incarnate!”
———————————
As the peals of Penumbra’s laughter echoed through the Crystal Mountains, Discord at first seemed to have lost the ability to speak. He simply stared at the pegasus with his mouth hanging agape as she collapsed onto her side, holding her barrel as her continued laughter began to interfere with her breathing. “Did... did I just win?”
Penumbra managed to nod her head, but given that her laughter continued unabated, Discord didn’t seem quite ready to celebrate just yet.
“Hang on... is this another loophole? Are you only laughing because it doesn’t matter anymore?”
Penumbra finally managed to control herself long enough to get to her hooves once again. “No,” she said, “our game is still in effect, and you’ve made me laugh without using any mind control. Congratulations, Discord. You’ve won.”
Discord, however, wasn’t smiling. “I may have won, but you know full well that Applejack will never believe that I didn’t cheat.”
“Of course she will,” Penumbra said. “Once she sees that I’m still acting like myself, I’ll vouch for you, and you know she’ll keep her word.”
“Then... I don’t even need Trixie’s help anymore! Without the Elements, there’s nothing anypony can do to stop me!” Discord seemed ready to let loose his own victorious cackle... except that Penumbra’s laughter started up again.
“All right,” he said, with a distinct air of annoyance in his voice, “would you mind telling me what’s so funny about losing?”
“Irony...” Penumbra managed to squeeze out between giggles.
“Huh?”
“I’ve always found irony to be amusing,” Penumbra said as her barrel shook from her efforts to keep her laughter from exploding once again, “and this situation is absolutely drenched in it.”
Discord didn’t quite understand. “So... you’re laughing because your plans failed, despite all the care that you put into making them?”
Penumbra had to take several deep breaths to maintain control of herself before she could answer. “I suppose that’s technically true, but...”
“But what?”
“...but it’s also true that winning won’t let you get everything you want.”
Discord waved his paw dismissively. “Oh, that’s just the sort of nonsense that they feed to foals to keep them obedient. Trust me: winning is, in fact, everything. You’ll be able to see for yourself once Pandelirium is up and running.”
“No, I won’t.”
The draconequus snorted at this rebuff. “Oh, please, you aren’t seriously going to choose Trixie just to spite me, are you?”
Penumbra sniggered for a few seconds before answering. “What makes you think I have a choice in the matter? After all, I’m still technically under Pinkie Pie’s supervision, and she can pull me into her head whenever she wants to. Considering that you’re one of the few people she actively dislikes, do you really think she’ll let me spend any more time around you than is absolutely necessary?”
Apparently, Discord hadn’t considered this possibility, because his eyes suddenly widened in shock. “But you’re forgetting that I don’t need to fear the Elements of Harmony anymore,” he pointed out as a hint of panic entered his voice. He began gesticulating wildly, sending tiny blasts of power around him and causing flowers to sprout from the cloud he and Penumbra were standing on. “I can easily overrun whatever sad-sack government Trixie establishes. Pinkie Pie won’t have any choice but to let us spend time together!”
Penumbra shook her head. “If she thinks you’ll be a bad influence on me—and she will—she can just keep me inside her head indefinitely. More to the point, even though I’ve enjoyed the time I’ve spent with you, I doubt that I would want to live in a world where you’re in charge. I rather suspect that your predictable unpredictability would grow quite stale very quickly. You’re more interesting when you’re reacting to normality, anyway.”
Discord wrinkled his brow in bewilderment. “Penumbra, what exactly are you saying?”
“I’m saying that now that you’ve ‘won,’ there’s no way we’ll be able to spend time together. That is, unless...”
“Unless what?” Discord asked as he defiantly crossed his arms over his chest.
“...unless you actually reform and join our side against Trixie.” Penumbra’s smug, thin-lipped smile radiated gloating superiority.
Discord was utterly silent for several seconds as his eyes darted around, as if searching for some witty retort that could demolish Penumbra’s reasoning, but inspiration eluded him. Finally, after much head scratching and silent gesticulation, he decided to just ask his question right out: “Do you really expect me to give up Pandelirium just because I’ll never see you again?”
“You tell me,” Penumbra replied as she idly waved a hoof, dismissing her Shadowbolts back into the ether. “Well,” she said idly as she started hovering in the air, “I’d better head south to the Badlands to see if we can’t at least salvage the fight with Trixie. It’s been a pleasure getting to know you, Discord.” Penumbra turned her back on the draconequus, and slowly began flying south as she silently counted down the seconds. Five... four... three... tw—
“Oh, no you don’t!” Discord shouted as he popped into the airspace directly in front of her. His face was twisted into an expression of pure exasperation.
“Is there something you wanted to add to the discussion?” Penumbra asked coyly.
“How did you do that?!” Discord shouted, throwing his arms out in exasperation with enough force that they separated from his torso and flew off into the distance.
“How did I do what?” Penumbra replied in a tone of artificial serenity as Discord regenerated a new set of arms.
“You’ve just handed me everything I need to make Pandelirium a reality, and now I’m going to throw it all away just because I’ve never met anypony who’s half as interesting as you are!”
“Ironic, isn’t it?”
“I don’t care how ironic it is! Just tell me how in feathery Tartarus you managed to pull that off!”
Penumbra flew up to Discord and condescendingly patted him on the head. “Why, that’s just the magic of friendship, silly,” she said. “As soon as you let slip that you actually cared about whether or not you could spend time with me when everything settled down, I knew it was safe to laugh again.”
“Because I’m predictably unpredictable?” Discord asked with a glare.
“No, because we’re friends, and friends make sacrifices for each other.”
Discord let out an irritated sigh as he slumped over in defeat. “I guess you’ve got a point. I still can’t believe that ‘friendship is magic’ baloney turned out to be true.”
Penumbra flew to Discord’s side and placed a hoof on his shoulder. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m just as surprised by it as you are.”
“Why?” Discord asked as he twisted his neck to look at his friend. “It was your scheme, after all.”
Penumbra snickered for a few seconds before regaining her composure. “That’s true, but this is the first time one of my schemes actually worked.”
———————————
Obnoxious though it was, The Great and Powerful Trixie’s gloating had two immediate benefits for her adversaries. First, she stopped reinforcing her fear spell, which finally gave Celestia a chance to recover. Second, because the target audience of The Great and Powerful Trixie’s improvised ode to her Greatness and Power was quite obviously The Great and Powerful Trixie, her attention was almost entirely on herself for the whole duration of her soliloquy, which allowed the Element-Bearers to carry out a whispered conversation right under her nose.
Rainbow Dash got straight to the point. “We need a new plan, and pronto.”
Rarity nodded emphatically. “Indeed, if we keep using our present approach, Trixie seems likely to respond by further torturing Celestia and Luna, if only to spite us.”
“I know, I know,” Twilight said as she took several deep breaths in an effort to remain calm. “But how else can we get around Trixie’s ‘anything you can do’ power?”
“Actually,” Pinkie Pie said as she rubbed her pastern against her chin, “that might not be the best way to look at this.”
“What do you mean, Pinkie?” Fluttershy asked.
“I mean that instead of trying to overcome it, we should try to just take it out of the picture altogether.”
“Uh, sugarcube,” Applejack said with a somewhat unsteady voice, “I’m pretty sure that’s what we’re tryin’ to do with the Elements of Harmony.”
“I know that,” Pinkie said calmly, “but there might be other ways to do it.”
“Um, Pinkie?” Rainbow Dash whispered directly into her friend’s ear. “I don’t think we have time for you to throw out a bunch of hints right now.”
Pinkie’s ears flopped downward dejectedly. “Aww... but I like doing that sort of thing. It’s like a really sophisticated guessing game for super-fancy parties.”
“I know, darling, but watching Celestia break down in tears tends to suck all the joy out of a room,” Rarity pointed out.
“Well, I can’t really argue with that,” Pinkie Pie admitted. “Okay, here’s what I think we should do: we should try to convince Trixie to reject her stage persona. Not only will that get rid of her ability to be better at everything than us, it’ll also get rid of Sombra’s influence over her... probably.”
“Whoa, hold up,” Rainbow Dash replied, extending her forehooves into the air. “Don’t thoughtforms have, like, massive rejection issues? I mean, I’ve seen what you’re like when you think that’s happened, and I do not want to make a psycho nutcase like Sombra an even nuttier psycho.”
Pinkie Pie nodded soberly. “I’m not pretending that there won’t be risks, especially since Trixie’s stage persona is sort of a mix between a regular pony and a thoughtform. But I’m guessing that if Sombra wasn’t able to take on a physical form on his own thanks to the Elements, The Great and Powerful Sombra might not be able to, either. Plus, there’s a good chance he’ll be disoriented for a little while if we pull this off, so Twilight should at least have a chance to free Celestia and Luna.”
“Okay, it’s certainly better than nothing,” said Twilight Sparkle, “but how exactly can we convince Trixie Lulamoon to give up being The Great and Powerful Trixie?”
“Well, um, she’s talking about herself right now,” Fluttershy pointed out. “Maybe if we actually listen to her, we can figure out what she really hopes to get out of this, and, um, maybe we can think of a better way to help her get what she wants.”
Rainbow Dash didn’t seem very enthusiastic about this. “Maybe,” she said, rolling her eyes, “but that means that we’ll have to keep her talking about herself until she gives us something to work with, and that means that we’ll have to pay attention to what she’s saying the whole time. There’s gotta be a way to cut to the chase.”
“Hmm...” Pinkie Pie mused to herself as she tapped her chin. “There might be a way. I mean, it worked on Penny....”
Twilight squinted at her friend. “Huh? What are you—oh...” she said as comprehension suddenly replaced confusion. The unicorn nodded vigorously. “You’re right, Pinkie. That probably is our best chance. Would you do the honors?”
“Gladly,” Pinkie replied with a short curtsy.
“What are y’all talkin’ about?” Applejack asked, voicing the confusion evident on the others’ faces.
“Shhh,” Twilight said. “Pay attention, and be ready for anything.”
Pinkie Pie, meanwhile, trotted up to where Trixie was pacing back and forth, extolling the virtues of her own perfection. “Um, excuse me, Miss The Great and Powerful Trixie, but I have a question.”
The Great and Powerful Trixie glared at her inquisitor, clearly annoyed by the interruption. “Make it quick,” she said, taking a defensive stance and charging her magical aura in case this turned out to be nothing more than a distraction for an ambush.
“What are you gonna do?” Pinkie asked with a strangely neutral expression on her face.
Trixie snorted. “The Great and Powerful Trixie is going to defeat you, obviously.”
Pinkie Pie shook her head. “No, I already know what you’re trying to do right now. I want to know what you’re going to do if you win.”
The aspiring despot’s eyes narrowed to slits. “If you had been listening to The Great and Powerful Trixie, you would already know this.”
Pinkie responded with a somewhat embarrassed smile. “Oh. Um, sorry about that. You see, I sort of have a short attention span sometimes...”
Trixie sighed and shook her head dismissively. “She is going to establish a perfect kingdom of order and precision beneath Equestria, and all who wish to escape whatever insanity Discord wreaks upon the surface shall be welcomed as her subjects.”
“Okay, but how are you going to keep them from rebelling if they decide that they don’t like you anymore?”
The Great and Powerful Trixie seemed rather flustered by this question. “What is this nonsense? The Great and Powerful Trixie’s subjects will not rebel against her. She will supply their every need! They wouldn’t dare show disdain for such all-encompassing benevolence; indeed, with Discord’s chaotic anarchy to serve as a foil, the masses will finally shower The Great and Powerful Trixie with the adulation she has always deserved!”
As soon as Trixie said the word “adulation,” Rarity’s ears perked up. “Wait,” she said, “that’s what you want? The affection of the public?”
The Great and Powerful Trixie was so surprised by this question that she instinctively took a few steps backward, as if in preparation for a subconscious “flight or fight” response. “O-Of course. Why would anypony become an entertainer, if not to bring joy to their audience?”
The corners of Rarity’s mouth turned upwards into a barely perceptible smile. “Oh, this explains so much,” she said aloud, ostensibly to herself but well within earshot of everypony else in the chamber. “My dear,” she continued, speaking directly to Trixie once again, “you’ve simply been taking the wrong approach.”
“What?!” Trixie shouted as the glow in her eyes flared, temporarily bathing the room in green light.
Rarity, however, was completely unfazed and continued as if she was speaking with a potential client. “It’s your image, darling,” she said as she approached the blue unicorn and began walking around her, appraising her subject. “This ‘Great and Powerful’ shtick will never endear you to your fanbase.”
“What do you know of entertaining?” Trixie asked indignantly. “You’re a dressmaker.”
“I am a fashion designer,” Rarity corrected, “and fashion is as much about image as it is about fabric.” She wasn’t about to let Trixie divert attention further from her point, and continued on. “You’ve been so focused on your level of skill as a magician that you overlooked one of the most important components of a positive image: likability.”
Apparently, The Great and Powerful Trixie had not given this much consideration before, because the tension in her muscles relaxed somewhat. “What do you mean?” she asked in a tone that mixed trepidation and curiosity in equal parts.
“Well, if you think about it, by themselves, ‘Greatness and Power’ may result in respect, but only in the sense that one shows respect to an angry timberwolf. In fact, I would even venture to say that this is the main reason your first stage show, though admirable in its ambition, failed to connect with your audience. Although they were certainly impressed with the feats you demonstrated, your braggadocio rubbed many ponies the wrong way. That’s why ponies were laughing at you after your humiliation: your audience never had any reason to invest themselves emotionally in your success, because The Great and Powerful Trixie is, to put it bluntly, unlikable. When ponies watch a magic demonstration, they don’t want to be overpowered; they want to be amazed.”
Trixie still looked rather skeptical, but she didn’t raise any specific objections. “What would you suggest for The Great and Powerful Trixie, then?”
“A makeover,” Rarity said firmly, striking the rock floor with her hoof to punctuate her statement.
“What?!” shouted nearly everypony else in the cavern, causing a rather off-putting echo to resound for a few seconds.
“An image makeover, I mean,” Rarity clarified. “Rather than sticking with your current ‘Great and Powerful’ stage persona, you would be better served by dropping it altogether and developing an identity that your audience can relate to. Other entertainers do this sort of thing all the time—in fact, I believe Sapphire Shores has done so twice in the last twelve months.”
“But... but I like being The Great and Powerful Trixie....” The fact that Trixie had actually referred to herself in the first person did not escape the other ponies in the chamber, who seemed to recognize this as a sign of progress.
“Well, you wouldn’t have to completely abandon being impressive,” Twilight Sparkle pointed out. “You’d just be pushing that aspect of your act to the background so some other personality trait can take center stage.”
“Yeah,” Pinkie added with an enthusiastic nod. “Instead of being all, ‘Trixie is better than you,’ you’d be more like, ‘Check out this cool thing I can do!’”
“Right,” Applejack said. “Instead of bein’ over-the-top and flashy, you could demonstrate how your magic can make a really complicated job simpler. I reckon a down-to-earth approach like that would really have a lot of appeal to country ponies.”
“Actually, you know what would be really impressive?” Rainbow Dash said as she lifted herself into the air. “Doing amazing things without using unicorn magic at all. I mean, like an escape artist or something. You could be all tied up, and your audience would be thinking, ‘Oh, she’s just going to use her magic again,’ but then you’d get free on your own and they’d be thinking that you’re not just a really good magician, but you’re a really talented pony in general.”
“Um, I think I might be able to help you with that,” Fluttershy meekly volunteered. “I mean, I’m really good with animals, and that’s usually thought of as an ‘earth pony’ trait, so a lot of ponies are really impressed when they find out I’m a pegasus. I bet if a unicorn did the sorts of things I can do, an audience would find it fascinating, so, um, maybe I can help you incorporate some live animals into your act.”
Even Luna was joining in, despite the fact that she hadn’t been privy to the Element-Bearers’ strategy session: “You could show your audience wondrous images and spectacles that can inspire their dreams, motivating them to better themselves, rather than leaving them to feel inferior to you.”
As the various suggestions and offers of assistance continued to pour out, Trixie’s hardened, skeptical expression began to soften, and the harsh green glow from her eyes became noticeably subdued. They did have a point, after all. She hadn’t become a showmare so she could demonstrate her superiority over other ponies; she’d just always assumed that she needed to do so in order to evoke the same sense of awe and wonder that she’d felt the first time she saw Copperfield’s show as a filly. But now that she thought of it, her inspiration had never actually claimed to be intrinsically better than anypony in his audience—in fact, when she had approached him to ask for his autograph he’d told her that anypony could achieve the success he enjoyed if they worked hard and put their mind to it. That was the moment that she’d decided to be an entertainer... but somehow, in the midst of her hard work, she’d lost sight of this. Trixie Lulamoon didn’t want to be better than everypony else... she wanted to be adored, and more importantly, she wanted to deserve that adoration.
“You’re right,” she finally said after some consideration. “I won’t really be able to get what I want by being The Great and Powerful Trixie. I think it’s time I started over with a clean slate.”
No sooner had Trixie said this than a blinding flash of green light filled the chamber, accompanied by an ear-splitting crack that sounded like a cross between shattering glass and a breaking bone. By the time the light subsided, Trixie had been shrouded in purple smoke so thick that she could hardly be seen through the haze. Before anypony could call out to her, a deep, gravelly, and most definitely male voice boomed out from the miasma. “No! This is unacceptable! My perfect Kingdom of Order is at hoof, and ’tis not thy place to discard it for mere celebrity. Providence hast ordained thee as my vessel, and thou art mine!”
“And thou art a total dweeb!” shouted a flat, nasal tenor in reply. Before anypony could react to this new voice, a beam of light shot out of the chamber’s rear entrance, striking the ethereal vapor and knocking it into a corner and away from Trixie, whose eyes returned to their original violet-on-white color before she collapsed unconscious onto the ground.
The other ponies finally looked towards the source of the blast and saw Discord leaning against the wall, casually blowing smoke away from the tip of his smoldering talon. But before any of them could react to Discord’s apparent betrayal of his ally, another familiar face stepped into the room, with an equally familiar disgruntled expression on her face.
“Did you seriously insist that we subdue that entire pack of Diamond Dogs just so you could make a dramatic entrance?” Penumbra asked as she glared at the draconequus.
“Oh, don’t you get all high-and-mighty on me,” Discord retorted, pointing a claw in the pegasus’ direction for emphasis. “You insisted we waste time, too, after all.”
Penumbra’s scowl remained unchanged. “Teleporting back to Ponyville so you could release the Crusaders was not a waste of time; it was a demonstration of good faith.”
“Uh, excuse me?” Rainbow Dash called out. “Could you two stop bickering and tell us what’s going on here?”
Discord sighed and rolled his eyes. “Okay, here’s the short version: I technically won the bet by making Penumbra laugh,” he said, speaking in clipped tones to get through his explanation as fast as possible, “only to discover that Celestia’s oft-repeated ‘friendship is magic’ idea was not, as I had previously assumed, a load of utter crap, and that I’d rather be Penumbra’s friend than have the freedom to indulge my every whim. In other words, I’m on your side now.”
“Is this true?” came Celestia’s voice as she slowly got to her feet. Her eyes were still red and watery, but a hopeful wisp of a smile had begun to emerge from the corners of her mouth. “Have you really returned to us, Quigley?”
The draconequus grinned kindly as he walked over to the force-field containing his creator and leaned against it. “Well, I still prefer to be called ‘Discord,’ but otherwise, yes.” He looked like he had much more to say, but he was cut of by an angry growl from Sombra’s nebulous remains. He let out an irritated sigh and rolled his eyes. “Sorry, Celestia, but we’ll have to postpone the reunion until we finish taking care of Captain Smokestack.”
“This is not over!” shouted Sombra’s guttural voice from inside the murk, which floated into the center of the room. “Tremble at your fates, for The Superior and Flawless Sombra shall not show mercy unto you!”
Discord, however, was unfazed by this threat. “Superior, huh? Then why did you need my help to get where you are now?”
“Thine assistance was accepted solely to expedite my goals. Thou art ultimately unnecessary.”
“Is that so? Well, I say you should put your money where your mouth is... or where it would be if you still had one. I challenge you to prove your superiority in a magic duel.”
“Why should The Superior and Flawless Sombra give a damn about besting an irregular freak?” the miasma said as it floated aggressively in the air.
Discord chuckled condescendingly. “Oh, I’m sorry—it seems I’ve made a mistake. You see, I was under the impression that you were planning on ruling your domain according to the principles of perfection.”
“’Twas no mistake! My incomparable precision shall serve as a beacon of enlightenment for all of my subjects.”
“Don’t make me laugh,” Discord replied with a sneer. “Why would anypony think you could be worthy of ruling such a kingdom if you can’t overpower a being of pure, unadulterated chaos? It can’t be a kingdom of perfection unless it is ruled by the very best pony.”
“I am the very best pony!” Sombra roared.
“Then prove it,” Discord said. “In the past, I have been defeated by eight of the ponies standing in this chamber. If you can’t even best me in a mere competition, that would objectively demonstrate that they are more fit to rule your proposed kingdom than you are.”
The black cloud said nothing; it was difficult to guess what this might mean, but it seemed as though it was seriously considering Discord’s point. “What are the terms of this competition?”
“Standard one-upping. I will perform a feat, and you shall attempt to outdo me in response. I then attempt to outdo you, and we keep going until one of us is unable to demonstrate his superiority.”
There was a pause lasting for several more seconds before Sombra rumbled his answer: “Agreed.”
“Excellent,” Discord said as he rubbed his paw and talon together in anticipation. He turned to the other ponies in the room. “Would you ladies mind moving to the walls so we have more room to work with?”
As Penumbra and the Element-Bearers nervously complied with this request, Sombra let out a satisfying chuckle. “My victory is inevitable,” he said. “Any feat thou couldst possibly perform would be paled by mine excellence.”
“You could very well be right,” Discord said with a wicked grin. “Shall we begin?”
“Yes,” Sombra said. “Attempt thy feat.”
Discord cracked his knuckles. “Okay, why don’t we start out with one of the classics?” he said as he snapped his talons causing a cotton candy cloud to appear and begin dropping chocolate rain on the cave floor for about ten seconds before Discord snapped it away again.
“What manner of feat was that supposed to be?” Sombra shouted.
Discord held up his hands in mock protest. “Why, I was just creating a little chaos, of course. What else did you expect me to do? Now, I believe it’s your turn.”
Sombra, however, did not seem willing to accept this line of reasoning without protest. “This is absurd!” he growled menacingly.
“Yes, it is,” Discord said with a dismissive wave of his paw. “That’s sort of the point. Your turn.”
The shadowy cloud started pulsating—slowly at first, but gradually increasing in speed as nothing continued to happen in front of it, giving the distinct impression that Sombra was... hyperventilating, for lack of a better word. “No,” he finally declared. “I refuse to acknowledge this inanity. You shall now attempt thine actual feat, or concede victory to me.”
“Did you hear that, ladies?” Discord said to the onlookers. “He refuses to acknowledge my opening salvo because he can’t do it better than me.”
“I can do it better!” Sombra insisted. “But I will not! I am the paragon of Order, and I will not degrade myself with this anarchic foolishness!”
Ignoring these declarations, Discord began joyfully bouncing around the nebula, singing a playground taunt: “He can’t create cha-os! He can’t create cha-os! I’m better than Sombra! I win the ga-ame!”
“The whole point of this contest was to prove that my worthiness to rule my Kingdom of Order! Insisting that I cause chaos is unacceptable. Now begin this contest, or forfeit!”
The audience, however, was not even remotely sympathetic to Sombra’s plight. “Hmph,” Luna grunted. “Some ‘paragon of order’ he is. He can’t even reason himself out of a paradox.”
“Yeah, that’s just pathetic,” Rainbow Dash agreed. “When we beat Discord, we overcame his dirty tricks instead of throwing a tantrum and insisting that he start over. Guess that means we’re better at beating him than Sombra is.”
“Eeyup, that sounds right ta me,” Applejack said with a nod, doing everything she could to repress the smile that threatened to burst onto her face. “Looks like we’ll be the ones rulin’ down here. Better start designin’ some extra tiaras, Rarity.”
“Silence!” shouted the black cloud. “I am the Superior and Flawless Sombra, and my supremacy is beyond question!”
“Then prove it,” Penumbra said. “Create some chaos. If you’re as attuned to order as you claim, you should have no problem figuring out how to remain unsullied.”
No one present had ever seen a disembodied cloud exhibit confusion before, but the brief buildups of Sombra’s magical aura that kept being cut off before a spell was actually cast certainly gave that impression. When Sombra finally spoke again, his tone was one of complete disbelief. “I... I cannot do it....”
A cheer erupted from the audience as Discord paced in front of his defeated foe. “Well,” he said, “I guess that means that they’re better than you at defeating me, so you have no business trying to take over. Don’t feel too bad, though; we have some lovely parting gifts for you, including a state-of-the-art blender, a copy of our home game, and a year’s supply of Oats-A-Roni, the San Flankcisco treat—”
“No!” Sombra shouted. “This is no fault of mine. I only failed because I am trapped in this accursed mutable form. If I had a body... a solid body... a perfect body....” Sombra trailed off as the cloud suddenly contracted, vaguely resembling a cat preparing to pounce on its prey. Suddenly, the force fields surrounding the princesses collapsed, and the billowing mass surged directly towards Celestia. The white alicorn was too surprised to jump out of the way—but she didn’t have to.
In retrospect, it wasn’t clear whether Discord had made a decision to act or had reacted instinctively, but the fact remained that he jumped in front of Celestia, causing Sombra to enter the draconequus instead. For several seconds, the chimera twisted and contorted into every shape imaginable (and several shapes that weren’t) before he finally slumped against a wall.
Penumbra approached the draconequus cautiously. “Discord? Are you... alright?”
“Oh, boy, that was not a good idea,” Discord groaned as he clutched his chest. “Worst heartburn ever...”
Penumbra placed a hoof in over his paw. “But... but Sombra....”
“Right... about him. I’ve got good news and bad news. The good news is that he is currently trapped in my head, rattling off a stream of the most creative curses I’ve heard in years. I don’t think you’ll have to worry about him for the moment.”
“And the bad news?” Celestia asked as she walked over to her imaginary friend.
“The bad news is—” Discord’s reply suddenly devolved into white noise as his body began to flicker erratically. “Oh, dear,” he said. “It’s ha...ing sooner than I th...”
“What?” Penunbra said, a look of panic coming over her eyes.
“Order an... ...aos... ...nceling each other ou...” Discord replied with a smile. “Is this ...ronic?”
“No!” Penumbra shouted at the unstable chimera. “I mean, yes, but it’s not the funny kind of irony! Discord, you need to let Sombra back out.”
Discord seemed to consider this for a few seconds, but he shook his head again. “Nah... care of him n... ...rth it to get rid of the obnoxious little b...” By now, Discord was visibly fading away, even as he continued to flicker in and out of reality. He turned towards Celestia. “S...ry, b... ...ve that reu...n later.”
Somehow, Celestia managed to hold back her tears; her intuition told her that Penumbra needed somepony else to show emotional strength. “I’ll hold you to that, my friend,” she said with a smile. Seconds later, a sound like the crack of a thawing ice floe filled the cavern, and Discord disappeared in a blinding white flash.
———————————
The sun was peeking over the horizon as the ponies exited the cave into the canyon-scarred landscape of the Badlands. Luna glanced over at her sister, who had just extinguished her yellow aura. “A bit early, don’t you think?” she asked.
“Indeed it is,” Celestia replied, “but right now, I’d say we all could use some sunshine.” She looked over at the other ponies, who had unanimously decided to stop and silently take in the view—with the obvious exception of Trixie, who was draped over Applejack’s back, still unconscious. Still, at the moment, Celestia’s concern was mostly directed at one of those ponies. After all, the Duchess of Everfree had been closer to Discord than anypony besides the Royal Sisters, and she had no previous experience with the sting of loss.
At the moment, the dark blue pegasus was sitting near the edge of a precipice, with Pinkie Pie by her side. Celestia and Luna walked over and quietly joined them for several minutes. Eventually, it was Luna who broke the silence with the inevitable question: “Will you be alright, Penumbra?”
Penumbra slowly exhaled and ran a hoof through her mane, allowing it to tumble back over her right eye. “I believe so,” she said, turning to show a bittersweet smile. “I mean, it does hurt, but I can’t possibly imagine Discord would want me to mope around.”
Celestia, however, looked concerned. “You are welcome to speak with either of us should you need a friendly ear,” she said. “Luna and I do have more positive memories of him than the others, after all, so there’s no need to hide the pain of his loss.”
Penumbra replied with a weak smirk. “Are you so certain he’s lost? Misplaced, perhaps, but to say he’s lost... well, that implies a sense of permanence that only a fool would attribute to Discord.”
The concern in Celestia’s voice increased slightly. “Penumbra, you can’t simply live in denial of what’s happened.”
“I’m not in denial,” Penubra said. “I just don’t see why I should assume anything about what’s happened to him. After all, he’s never had to follow the rules before, so why should anything in the next world pose an obstacle for him?”
“You think he’ll return, then?” Luna asked, cocking her eyebrow in mild skepticism.
“I have no idea,” Penumbra admitted. “I suppose it all depends on whether or not the world beyond is orderly or chaotic. I am certain of this, though: if he does decide to return, he won’t show up unless nopony expects it.” By the end of this statement, Penumbra’s voice finally cracked, and tears ran down her cheeks.
Pinkie Pie wrapped a foreleg around her friend’s shoulders and smiled gently. “Don’t worry,” she said softly. “Everything’s going to be alright.”
The tears choked out Penumbra’s reply, so she simply hugged Pinkie Pie as tightly as she could.
Luna and Celestia walked away from the pair, sensing that Pinkie Pie could handle the situation. Besides, they had their own feelings to work through. “You know,” Luna finally said, “at the end of the day, I am glad that our friendship with Discord was restored, however briefly.”
Celestia sighed as she watched the morning sun’s rays begin to light up the canyons. “Well, wherever he is now, I hope he’s having fun.”