Discord stood at the crest of a hill. Five sycamore trees sat before him, each one reaching high into the sky, each one standing just behind a gravestone. Each stone was a pristine white and devoid of any writing. A symbol was engraved in the middle of each, five different marks for five different graves.
Discord conjured a hat onto his head, just to take it off and sweep into a bow. “Good morning, ladies. I hope that I haven’t kept you waiting for too long.”
A wind picked up over the hill. Discord’s hat, balancing on a loose grip, was swept out of his claw and out over the grass. The draconequus watched it go.
“Well, there’s no need to be rude about it.” Discord snapped and the hat reappeared in his claw. He slammed it onto his head. “I’d like to think that I was rather punctual. Considering that your precious Princess isn’t even here yet. If you want to be angry at anyone, be angry at her.”
The gust of wind tapered off, little more than a breeze.
Discord let out a humph. “Of course. Big bad Discord shows up on time and his hat gets ripped away. Twilight Sparkle is late and nothing!” He kicked at the ground. “Speaking of which, I never thought that she’d ever be late. She must be going senile.”
The wind picked up again, rustling through the leaves of the sycamore trees. Particularly, Discord thought, through the leaves of the tree to the very left of the group. The draconequus disappeared in a flash, reappearing in the branches of that tree.
“Oh honestly, Fluttershy, you can’t say anything else! And it’s entirely possible at her age!” Discord leans back slightly. “What is she? 400 and a little bit now?”
More rustling.
Discord patted a branch fondly. “Don’t you worry. You don’t look a day over 200.”
The wind died down completely. Discord leaned back into the branches, rough bark scratching at his fur. The morning was quiet and cold, a freshly risen sun doing little to warm the lingering chill. Everything was quiet and, for a moment, the world seemed incapable of rising above a whisper.
A smile played at Discord’s lips as he slowly patted a tree branch. He spoke softly, not wanting to break the silence.
“Four hundred years. Has it really only been four hundred years? I’m pretty sure it has, but, then again, I still haven’t quite got a handle on this whole Time business. It’s so strange, trying to quantify something that can’t be quantified.” Discord chuckled. “Only you mortals would think of something like that.”
The hill was silent.
Discord cleared his throat, feeling a now familiar pressure build up behind his eyes. “I’ve started reading. Under the influence of our precious Princess, no doubt. Either way, it’s a rather nice experience. Reading, I mean. So many worlds, so much time, that passes in the blink of an eye. It’s like being immortal.” Discord’s words were strained now, the pressure turning into a burning.
“Your letters—” Discord cleared his throat again “—I’ve read your letters so many times. They’re probably my favorite piece of literature. But there’s a quote th-that I can’t get out of my head.” The world blurred. “‘A pony cries, his tears dry up and run out. So he becomes a devil, reduced to a monster.’”
Discord leaned back, nestling against the trunk. “I’d never cried. Not once. Over one thousand years of life and not one sincere tear ever left my eyes. I reveled in my callousness, laughed at those who cried. And now look at me.” Discord reached a talent up to his eyes, wiping away a trail of tears. “I’ve lost it, Fluttershy. That monstrosity. That selfish and uncaring nature, being concerned only with amusement, everything that made me me, all of that’s gone!” The tears flowed freely now, hiding the world behind a watery film. For his lost kingdom, for the solitude he could never have again, for the time before he had any friends.
“Thank you, Fluttershy.” Discord pushed the words past the lump in his throat. “For… for everything.” The draconequus fell silent. A breeze ran through the hill, making the leaves of the sycamore tree sway. Back and forth, over and over. A pleasant rustle filled the air.
Discord cried, silent as he laid against the memory of his first and dearest friend. He sat for hours, not making a sound, watching as the sun crept silently upwards. Then, when he had had his fill of tears, Discord slept.
He was sleeping still, four days later, when Twilight Sparkle made her way to the hill. She and Discord had promised to meet on that day, the anniversary of Fluttershy’s death. Twilight had watched her calendar diligently, and she could only hope that Discord had done the same. She needed someone to talk to, someone who remembered all that she did, someone else who could close their eyes for but a moment and see them as they had been, could hear them and laugh with them again, just as she could. Just as she did.
Twilight’s stomach sank when she first reached the crest. There was no sign of Discord. He had forgotten, just as he had done 372 times before. Twilight remembered. She had kept count. Then Twilight had caught sight of a red tail, hanging down from the branches of the leftmost tree.
Of course. Twilight smiled and reached into her pack, pulling out five bundles of rosemary and laying them on the graves. Then she sat and closed her eyes, listening to long-gone voices and watching long-gone movements.
There, on a hill topped with five trees, a hill that rose over a graveyard of hundreds and hundreds of ponies, two beings thought and dreamt of things long-gone.
And the dead were alive again, held in their dearest memories.