A/N: Deepest apologies for the wait. We shall try something different from now on: chapters half as long, twice as often.
Not much action here; mostly explanation and further foreshadowing.
Chapter 6: In Which Deception Continues
There was an exquisite beauty in the frantic darting of her eyes, a most sublime madness in how desperately her gaze begged clarity from whatever might grant it. So many shifting emotions lay behind those eyes, and Discord basked in their poignancy. Chilled fear; blind confusion; trembling disbelief; the only conceivable way it could have been any better was if he had the power to snap his talons and turn all of those raw feelings into so much smooth glass. And drink himself sick.
Yes. All of those delectable nuances running smooth and cracking down his throat, settling like sweet swirling vapors in his stomach...
Ah, but no matter about that; he'd done what he'd set out to do, and again it had worked well. So well, thanks to the ever-desperate, ever-neurotic mind of Twilight Sparkle. He allowed himself a celebratory chuckle, for his little pony was hardly in any shape to notice it, now, was she? No, no; she was still mid-shock, babbling to herself as she tried to make sense of what snippets of memory she'd managed to save from the fine show he'd just given her. The chuckle turned into shameless giggling; how terribly precious she was. And how satisfying.
He pulled a thick licorice stick from the ether of Twilight's mind and began to chew.
Satisfying was not the half of it. Necessary was closer.
Essential.
Absolutely crucial.
There was no other way he could have gotten through what he'd just shared. Heck, he couldn't have even mustered up the stability to handle simple recollection without those quaint little games. Every doubt, every stab of panic, every fresh attempt at bravery was a drop of soothing balm, returning and reinforcing threads of control as he'd watched, silently snickering, while Twilight had stumbled about in artificial blindness. Add to that little game the slights of tongue, the dubious promises, the cherished goal held so carefully out of reach, and oh, the reactions he'd been able to provoke! The anger, the despair, the kindling hope: constant shifts, constant leaps from one state to the next, and he'd given the writhing energies enough to brave his first memory.
That... well, if he called it an easy thing, he'd have been lying, plain and simple.
There had been a sort of vile pleasure in feeling those energies test what he'd brought up, sensing them sniff eagerly at the edges of the old forest, hungrily watch griffon and stallion, fillies and draconequus as he struggled to quell them with the last morsels of Twilight's little dramas. A twisted part of him welcomed their investigations, begged permission to let them prowl about each vivid scene and tear into the fractures of his own psyche that lay beneath. That was the part that was hardest to mollify: the part that shunned logic; the part where he and the eternal chaos blended and mixed at their tenuous boundaries. The part that erased those boundaries.
He'd done it, though! Oh, yes, yes, he'd done it. Hush, hush. You'll have your chance. When you're free, when we're free, when this dull rock is broken and turned to filthy dust, we'll all have our chance, and then Equestria will twist and turn and melt and shear but first just look at that little unicorn! Isn't she just darling? Lookit, lookit, see how she yells at books like they're going to answer? See how her sides heave? Feel that panic, that iced edge of helplessness that quickens her breath? How about the way she grasps, desperate and failing, at even the slightest shred of understanding?
His eyes devoured every second of Twilight's mounting confusion.
He chewed at his licorice.
The energies accepted his offerings and returned to prowling the recesses of his mind.
Good. Splendid.
Leave it all alone. Leave good 'ol Harps and Maggie alone. Leave the woods alone. Leave widdle baby Woona and Celly-welly alone. Leave that darling little draconequus oh wasn't I just the most precious thing alone. Leave them alone, leave them alone. Heck, you can have them later, but for now, leave them alone. Let me have them. Let me have them so that dear Twilight Sparkle doesn't.
For if Twilight Sparkle had them, if she could peer at each and every crucial detail all at once, it would be over. Hard enough now, with those memories needling away at his resolve with their truths. Hard enough to keep them away from his precious chaos. Hard enough with no grass to checker or chocolate to rain. With only Twilight's theatrics to keep him grounded.
If Twilight could question them, bring them up clear to the surface, throw them at him at will?
If he was forced to actively see at what he was looking at? See, instead of just vaguely acknowledge the events flowing on by?
Impossible, then.
Then memories would turn to raging and stabbing and snapping, and all chance of escaping this eternal numbness would vanish like so much wispy candy fog. And that couldn't happen. It couldn't. Never, never, never.
The notion was ice to his blood and inspired an inner shudder.
So there was only one thing to do, and oh, he'd managed it spectacularly! He was not really one for plans if he could help it, but this one had been worth it, so worth it. Every moment had been necessary: tricks to quell the chaos and learn her mind, careful manipulations to sever each bond as it strove to be, constant feeding on every new emotion to maintain stability.
But it worked! The moment she'd seen what must not be seen, he'd reached in, ever so delicate, and plucked the connection to oblivion. Severed it, like the thread of a pesky spider web. No other way but that, after all. Not here. Not when he was forced to use her mind as workspace. No lies, no true alterations, not in Twilight's little noggin. So he had to sever before the connections were permanent. Sever before his memory truly became hers. And so he did. So he had.
All of it nearly impossible in his precarious state, yet he had done it! Every step flawless, perfect, magnificent, and now he drank in her helpless confusion as delectable reward for the labor.
Mags and Harps would stay hidden beneath the surface he crafted. Hidden. Mismatched gryphon and ebony stallion. Mentor and guardian. When she laughed, it was like the cracking of a champagne glass made by hummingbirds, and when he spoke, his voice was the roots of mountains never-moving, and when they when she he wait wait stop go back don't look see but don't look--
Something shifted, and he pounced upon it.
A sigh flowed past his lips, easy and content as a tiny flame of anger flickered amongst the bewildered shadows of Twilight's thoughts. She was changing again, inviting ire as a possible savior, and he snagged the timely rescue with the relief of a victim and the glee of foal.
Ah, another close one. How wonderfully entertaining!
Even as part of him trembled relief, he indulged a giggle. Only a moment, though. Then rare practicality took hold, and he turned to meet Twilight's accusing glare with sly eyes.
“This doesn't make any sense, Discord! You're not being--”
Now, fillies and gentlecolts, wasn't she just the most darling little pony to ever live? Sense! The living end, if he did say so himself.
“Fair? Now, now, Twilight Sparkle,” he chided, “what did we say about sense and fairness?”
Clicking his tongue in mock disapproval, he reached down and grabbed her face with both paw and talon. With a gleeful grin, he forced her to mouth his words.
“'Why, Discord, you are the ever-magnificent spirit of chaos and disharmony, so sense and fa--'”
“Enough!” She wrenched herself free of his grip and, after taking a moment to rub at her reddened cheeks, glowered up at him anew. “You said you'd answer my question, but you've just given me more!”
Oh, glorious chaos, just feel that righteous indignation! That glowing ember of self-satisfied disgust, of furious repulsion, of... of... and... now it was boring. Ah, but that was hardly a problem. Hardly a problem at all. After all, he still had his hour, didn't he? Of course he did. His grin stretched wider.
“I do remember telling you, my dear, that I was not about to hand you your answers on a silver platter. No, no.” He twisted his face into a mockery of lofty dignity, paw and claw folded behind his back as he walked a circle around her.
“I believe the price was two hours of your conversation, no? And I've already taken one...”
She gave a weary sigh.
“I have to take another hour of you being a jerk before you tell me how... how...” The concept seemed too inconceivable for words, but she finally got it out through clenched teeth: “How you and the princesses knew each other?”
“Mm, yes. Precisely.”
“Fine. Fine, Discord. Let's get it over with, then.” Twilight visibly drooped as she sat down, mane hanging limp about her shoulders, ears angled low: the very picture of dejected acceptance. Exhausted. Long-suffering. A resigned little martyr.
He had her just where he wanted her. Perfection.
Now to take the maximum advantage of this ultimate low. He settled himself down in front of her, stretched out languidly on his belly with head propped up in paw. His tail, stretched out to double its usual length, dangled teasingly above them.
Anticipation danced in his glimmering eyes.
“I want you to tell me, Twilight Sparkle...”
He waited, took a breath, focused on her growing apprehension. In the back of his mind, something stirred. Stalked. Readied.
“...about...”
Despite her weariness, her ears perked up, leaning towards his words. He watched curiosity sprout, directed the prowler towards it. His grin stretched wider as anticipation became ready giddiness.
Another breath to draw out the tension. Any moment now, right when her attention hovered around feverish, and... now!
“...today's weather.”
The shift was instantaneous, and Discord lapped up her naked bewilderment as Twilight sat frozen in an open-mouthed gape. He did nothing to stop the giggles tickling his throat.
Delicious, as always. Oh, this was going to be fun.
The sun's rays crept over the horizon to herald the new day, and though Twilight Sparkle tried to turn away from their golden light, the grassy field yielded neither blanket nor pillow to serve as a shield. She was forced to accept the dawn alarm with a weary groan, pushing herself to her hooves with all the grace and energy of a crotchety old mare and shaking herself into some semblance of wakefulness.
It took her a few bleary moments to realize she was not in her own bed, a few more to realize she wasn't even in her own room, and a final instant of grouchy exasperation to remember exactly what had taken place the night before. Memories resurfaced rapidly as she performed an experimental stretch, gasping at the sudden discovery of a crick in her neck.
The most recent came first: the last bits of inane conversation Discord had subjected her to. Silly questions about the weather, about what she'd done yesterday, about how she styled her mane in the morning. She'd answered them with nothing but confusion coloring her words, but answer them she had, for that had been the deal, no?
Twilight began to stagger to the edge of the field, making her way back to town as the buzzing of diurnal insects replaced cricket song. She focused on the tired motion of her hooves to offset her bewilderment as she tried to make sense of what she'd seen.
Snippets trickled back, slower and patchier than images of the bizarrely normal conversations between herself and the draconequus. Impressions of a pristine forest; notions of two charming little fillies playing in the afternoon sunshine; the shaded glimpse of what she still struggled to accept as a very young Discord. This was the image that proved the most viscerally shocking, and she barely noticed that she was walking on town cobblestones until she had nearly reached the town square. Even then, she almost bumped into a mailbox as her mind refused to leave that unbelievable thought.
Discord, as a child.
Discord, meeting a young Celestia and an even younger Luna.
Discord, without the menacing trickery that so defined him in ponydom.
How... could that have been? Ever? Even in the vaguest, most unsubstantial beginnings of theory it didn't seem remotely possible, yet... yet that was what she had seen.
A gawky young draconequus meeting a lovely little white filly in a forest clearing, the two of them staring at one another with all the cautious curiosity of new discovery. Each carefully approaching the other, holding gaze, gradually replacing curiosity with wonder...
Wonder? Wonder?! How...
Yes, it had been wonder. That was one of the details that stood out best: the utter wonder in both their eyes as they'd approached with nary a touch of fear in their steps. It had remained even as the young Luna had shrieked her panic, returned even after the trauma of...
The trauma of...
Twilight stopped mid-step.
Trauma. Something traumatic had happened. Something after Luna had screamed, something that involved kicked-up leaf litter and panicked mewling. Something... something that she couldn't remember.
At all.
Twilight put a hoof to her forehead, as if gently rubbing the spot would bring up some useful information. That, of course, was fruitless. No matter how hard she tried, wading through both bits of pointless small talk and important sylvan scenes, she could not expand upon that notion of sudden catastrophe.
Nothing came forth.
Nothing came forth, and yet the more she thought about it, the less odd it seemed. The more she thought about it, the more the other, sharper memories stood out, and the idea of some awful middle scene began to fade unnoticed into the background.
She began to walk again.
In fact, after a few moments, it barely seemed to matter, what with the incredulity still inspired by the sight of young Discord and Celestia together, and another few moments took her mind off it completely. Even the more recent conversations with Discord, all involving some oddly pointless bit of small talk, overshadowed it. By the time Twilight Sparkle reached the town square and turned towards home, any and all notions of trauma had passed entirely from her mind.
That did not mean that confusion had left her; far from it. Between the impossible meeting and trying to figure out why Discord had expressed such interest in the daisy sandwich she'd had two days ago, Twilight was so entrenched in thought she only realized Applejack had been calling out to her when the farm pony clapped a friendly hoof on her shoulder.
“Howdy there, Twilight! How're you doin' this mornin'?”
It took a concerted effort for Twilight to keep from yelping in shock, and she gave her friend a shaky smile when she'd recovered from the suddenness of her greeting. She quickly opened her mouth, automatically grateful to have someone to vent her frustrations to, only to quickly snap it shut.
Despite falling asleep in the field, she really was exhausted if she'd nearly done that. It would have been a fatal mistake.
She quickly covered up her error with what she hoped was a chipper smile.
“Good morning, Applejack! Oh, I'm doing fine. Just fine! Just taking a morning stroll to stretch my legs.”
She kept her smile firmly in place, only to have it met by a quirked eyebrow and narrowed eyes.
Perhaps she had laid it on too thick?
When she watched her friend glance down at what she suddenly realized were her trembling knees, she decided that “too thick” was an appropriate description. Too appropriate.
Applejack cleared her throat.
“Ah... Twi, you all right there, sugarcube? You seem a bit... uh... um...”
“Tired!” Twilight offered, struggling to control pep she finally identified as a barely-contained nervous breakdown. With monumental effort, she softened her smile.
Applejack, personal honesty granting her an uncanny ability to detect falsehoods, peered closely at Twilight's careful expression.
“Tired? Why in the name of crimped oats are you out for a walk if you're tired? No shame in taking a couple more hours shuteye. 'Specially if you don't have to be up bright and early for farm chores.”
Inwardly, she scrambled for an answer, nearly breathing a very obvious sigh of relief when it came to her.
“Ah, well, you know: really shouldn't skip out on exercise! You're always telling me how I should be more active, seeing as I'm stuck inside with books all day. Anyway,” she straightened a bit, feeling a shred of confidence as Applejack stepped back, “I'm just tired because I was working on some new regulations the Princess had sent me. You know: book organization, cataloguing references, reading group timeslots. I was just taking my daily stroll before heading in to take a nap.”
An outright lie, and Twilight was amazed, even a little disturbed, at how easily it spilled from her dry lips. Still, it was better than admitting the truth, especially to someone like Applejack, and she felt palpable relief as the suspicion faded from her friend's face, replaced with a touch of bashfulness as Applejack rubbed the back of her head with a hoof.
“Aw, shucks, Twilight, I guess you're right; just don' like seeing ya looking so poorly.”
At Twilight's forgiving smile, she brightened.
“I guess you've got your work cut out for you, though, dontcha? Shoot, you and the Princess being so close and all, I bet she's got you doing all sorts of important things at the library. Silly of me to forget, really.”
“Oh, that's perfectly fine, Applejack. I'm sure everyone's been working very hard since the announcements yesterday.”
Applejack laughed.
“Darn right they've been! Why, Big Macintosh and I must've chopped down at least twenty trees yesterday. Shame to see them drop, but feels mighty good knowin' the Princess is lookin' out for us. Orchard looks mighty fine with all those Red Delicious apples standing out like they are. It's gonna be quite a sight once we're done.”
A shiver crawled down Twilight's spine, but she kept her expression and nodded.
“I'm sure it will.”
Applejack, clearly taken by thoughts of her altered orchard, seemed to have totally forgotten her previous suspicions. She fairly beamed at Twilight as the two mares began to part ways.
“Yup. Well, I'll let you go take your nap, Twi. I'm sure you want to get back to work anyway, and I've got to go buy some new ax heads at the market. Why don't you come over in the afternoon, stop by for some apple juice? I'm sure we'll both be hankerin' for a break by then!”
“Sure! Sure, I'll stop by after I've got a few more books settled. See you later, Applejack!”
“So long!”
And with that, Applejack resumed her trot to the market stalls.
Twilight was left with a chilled nausea making her stomach clench. Beads of sweat glistened on her brow, and she grimaced as soon as she was sure Applejack was out of sight.
All of the sick disbelief of yesterday came flooding back as, distracted from thoughts of Discord, Twilight took the time to actually notice her surroundings. It took her only a moment to see that Applejack and Big Macintosh were not the only ones that had been working hard.
The sky caught her attention first, for its state was something she had never even conceived of, let alone seen. Every cloud, every single cumulus, stratus, and cirrus, floated serenely in a very obvious, very narrow belt mid-sky. Above and below that belt was empty blue; not even a lone straggler had been allowed out of the new zone Princess Celestia had designated. It was as if every visible puff of cloud vapor had been herded into some bizarre river that cut the Equestrian sky in two.
The sight of it brought bile to her throat, not because of any traditional sense of violence or horror, but because of an unsettling wrongness she could not even put into words. Everything about the celestial view was unnatural, nearly as bizarre as Discord's green sky had been. Worse, even, for during their conversation, Applejack hadn't mentioned it at all. She hadn't even looked at the abomination, and that was the most disturbing thing of all.
Here Twilight stood, knees shaking out of instinctive fear, and Applejack hadn't even commented on their freakish new sky.
Freakish? Abomination?
Were those words too strong?
Twilight glanced up again, only to shudder.
No; definitely not too strong.
For something that involved nothing obviously terrifying to elicit such an awful gut reaction, 'abomination' possibly was not strong enough.
She began to walk again, struggling to bring some stability to her thoughts. She could barely manage, for the further she went, the more distressing Ponyville seemed. All around her, standing innocently under the cloud belt, were buildings whose fronts had all been repainted the same shade of mauve. Flowerbeds had been replanted with a strange new rose variety whose petals were all of equal diameter. Cobblestones had been meticulously chiseled to feature perfect ninety degree angles.
Ears pinned back, lips trembling, sweat running down her neck, Twilight walked on through this sideshow of disturbing sameness. At this point, other ponies began to fill the streets, beginning to go about their daily lives. The sight of them, all calm, all happy, all normal except for the occasional concerned glance at her condition, made the situation even more eerie.
Like the chilling buildup to an awful horror film.
The more she saw, the more light-headed she felt, and by the time she had reached the library she was breathing deep, slow breaths in an attempt to keep on her hooves. With one last shuddering glance at the surreal scape behind her, she pushed the door open and disappeared inside.
Once her eyes had adjusted to the indoor light, her heart sank even further, for there, in the center of the main room sat Spike. Surrounding him were piles of books, some still normal, but most stripped of their old covers and dressed instead in brand new, dusky red backing.
All the same color. All the same texture.
All the same.
Twilight swallowed back a gasp when Spike turned to her with a perfectly bright, perfectly normal smile.
“Hey, Twilight. You weren't around when I got up, so I started on the Princess' orders myself. Don't the books look great? I thought it'd be harder to tell them apart with all the spines being the same color, but I think it gives 'em a sort of... Twilight?”
She'd been staring, she realized, staring at the sight of her dragon assistant methodically switching out book covers for no discernible reason. It took monumental effort to tear herself away from the piles of identical books and throw Spike a quick, utterly fake, smile.
“They look great, Spike; just great! I... I'm sure the Princess will be very pleased.”
“Hmph, she'd better be. This is awful for my claws.”
He cracked his knuckles for emphasis, leaning back with a sigh.
“You think you could help me after you write your letter to the Princess? It'd probably go faster with your magic.”
“My letter?”
“Jeez, Twi, don't tell me you forgot! Did you get any sleep at all last night?”
Immediately, she realized her mistake, and added a fake laugh to her fake smile.
“Oh, I did, Spike, don't worry! I remember: my letter. Of course. It's just been a busy day already, seeing all the work everyone's been doing.”
She crossed the room under his suspicious gaze, making her way to her makeshift office.
“I'll help you out as soon as I'm done.”
“Well...” his eyes narrowed, but Spike had never been one to disbelieve her, and he acquiesced quickly, “okay. I'll see you later. You wanna go out for lunch today? I'm not sure I'll have time to make anything good with all these books I have to go through.”
“Sure! Right after I'm done with my letter.”
“Make it a quick one; I'm starving!”
He turned back to his strange work, and the sound of dragon claws cutting through thick bindings followed her into the other room.
The moment she closed the door behind her, the fake happiness all but slid off her face, leaving her expression the picture of anxious dread.
Spike. Her darling Spike.
Her assistant.
Her little brother.
She'd been stunned, disturbed, by Applejack's nonchalance regarding the whole ordeal. When she'd seen other ponies acting likewise, those feelings had intensified.
Now, however, the sight of her beloved Spike acting so unnaturally brought not only shock and anxiety, but a distilled fear that nearly crossed over into panic. Her breaths came in quick pants as she leaned up against her desk, mind frantically running through ideas, plans, solutions. She came up with very little, but one notion kept returning to her, and it quickly cemented itself as the only rule in this unwelcome game:
She'd been right; there was no help for her to be found amongst Pony-folk.
None.
Oh, she'd already told herself that, multiple times, but what she'd seen today in town and at home simply proved her completely right. There was no help to be had when Ponyville had gone entirely mad on the order of the Princess. The Princess!
She whimpered.
A part of her had still held on to the secret hope that she would eventually break down and confess everything to her mentor, that Celestia would come to her rescue. That she would silence Discord once and for all, putting an end to all of the uncomfortable thoughts he'd manged to foster. That hope was gone, now. It had breathed its last when she'd laid eyes on the horrible sky, a sky that Princess Celestia had requested the pegasi craft.
Twilight really had no choice but to look to Discord now. No choice but to entertain a new hope that whatever he told her would unravel this awful mystery.
The realization was both crippling and strangely liberating, a conflict so bizarre that Twilight Sparkle began to giggle as her nerves frayed a little further. She only stopped when she spotted the waiting quill and parchment on her desk. Giggles turned to trembling sobs, and she only barely retained enough control to keep them quiet, so that Spike would not hear them.
Having already made her decision to go forward with what she'd started, she now had the unhappy realization that she would have to commit what she understood as a grievous crime. Right now. Immediately.
She would have to write a letter to Celestia. A letter that, normally, would have involved a simple check-in with her mentor.
This time, that letter would involve an outright lie. Multiple outright lies.
The first she had ever told to the one whom she loved above all else.
Nausea returned, and Twilight lay her head down on the desk, breathing deeply to stifle both ill feeling and soft sobs. A few moments later, she rose, eyes devoid of any uncertainty. Her magic reached out and grasped the quill, raising it above the parchment as Twilight took a final, steadying breath.
Terrible though it was, it had to be done.
Some fresh madness had grasped the Princess; one only had to look outside, to the town and the sky to see that.
That nameless, unknown madness was something that only she, Twilight Sparkle, could see, and so, by her love for Celestia, it was something that only she would have to combat. For that, she would use any weapon necessary.
Even Discord.
She would lie. She would risk. She would do anything to reverse the sickness that had gripped her princess.
With those final thoughts allowing courage to replace despair, Twilight Sparkle began to write.
Dear Princess Celestia...
...Your Faithful Student, Twilight Sparkle
Despair coursed through her as she finished perusing the letter her sister had read, smiling, earlier that day. Her magic faded away, dropping the parchment back to the ivory table as she stepped away, dipping her face to the moonlight and drawing strength from it as she tried to accept what she had just read.
Acceptance, acquiescence, obedience. All of these qualities shined through the written words, words praising the insidious changes taking place in Ponyville and its surrounding countryside. She closed her eyes against the ramifications of those words, ears pinning as anger sparked up in the face of sudden hopelessness.
The one chance she'd conceived of, her one means of working through this eternal disaster, seemed lost to her, and with a strangled cry, she whipped back around. Her magic flared, tendrils of shadow grasping at the letter with the intent of hurling it across the room in her desperate frustration.
The moon stopped her.
Its silver whispers soothed her rage and, more importantly, directed her attention to the delicate aura of emotion clinging to the scroll. It was not surprising, really, for it to do this, for it was common knowledge amongst most magic-users that the moon dealt with emotion and feeling the way the sun dealt with boisterous activity and growth. What was surprising was what she found when she allowed her attention to touch that aura.
It did not match the letter's words. On the contrary, where the words gave praise and agreement, despair and fear clouded her mental vision. As she delved deeper, they gave way to a stark confidence and a determination that was almost akin to anger in its ferocity.
For a few moments, she prodded at these sensations, examining them with the greatest care, ensuring that she was not misreading the unseen miasma of feeling. When she was certain that what she sensed was the truth, she lay the parchment back down with the utmost care.
The moonlight painted dazzling streaks in her nebulous mane as she turned her muzzle up to her namesake in thanks.
Then, with a satisfied smile dominating her features, she left the room, turning for the library to continue her work.
As it turned out, all was not lost.
Far from it.
A/N: All comments will be treated with the deepest internet affection. Til next time, compadres.