//------------------------------//
// Chapter 4 
// Story: Discord Punches Twilight In The Face 
// by Craine 
//------------------------------//

It wasn’t like he was wrong.

Really, Spike had no reason to feel guilty. Sure, he’d snuck behind Twilight’s back and informed Princess Celestia of her misdeed, but it was for the greater good. Sure, he did that after he’d extorted her need for secrecy—not that watching a princess clean her own castle like a common maid bored him.

The one fact was this: Spike wasn’t wrong. He wrote that letter to save Twilight a world of guilt and pain.

It was simple. Spike needed only to sit back, wait for the return-letter, watch Canterlot guards interrogate Twilight at her own castle, watch her confess, watch her return the book, endure the silent treatment for a month—or a toss off a cliff, which ever came first—and normality would've been restored.

Simple.

Did that stop Spike from sitting on that bench, watching the blackened sky, and wishing one of those lightning bolts would strike him to a scaly crisp?

Well, maybe a little, but the churning pit in his chest wouldn’t vanish.

“Spike?” came a familiar voice. “Shouldn’t you be inside?”

The young dragon turned his eyes to a fuchsia-colored earth pony. “Oh, hey Cheerilee. No, I could use the fresh air,” he said as whistling winds pushed the trees and sailed leaves, newspapers, and other debris across the air.

“I-I don’t know, Spike,” Cheerilee replied, wrinkling her nose against the pungent winds. “Mayor Mare urged everypony inside just minutes ago. And judging by those funnel clouds…”

That’s when Spike noticed several ponies galloping to their homes. The wind picked up and whistled louder. Spike looked straight up at the high-noon sun, skirted by the swirling clouds.

“Well… ‘least the sun’s still out,” he joked.

The wind blew harder, whipping Cheerilee’s mane along.

“Ack! Spike I have to return to the school. The fillies and colts can’t leave the building until this blows over, and its only getting worse. Promise me you’ll go inside,” Cheerilee pleaded.

With a sigh, Spike nodded and Cheerilee trotted on her way.

The wind blew harder, but that was fine; Spike wasn’t really going inside. This weather was perfect for a wandering mind. 

So what if all that flying debris started flying even faster? So what if several more vortexes spun behind the mountains. So what if the lightning crackling in those black clouds started striking the earth like so many whips. So what if the funnel clouds dropped full-blown tornados one by o—

Spike threw his arms up. “Done.”

Just as he hopped off that bench and touched the ground, he clutched his cramping stomach. He unleashed a mighty, fiery belch and watched the expected letter materialize through the smoke.

“Huh. Well, that was fast,” he said.

He snatched the letter, tore the seal, and read. Then he read it again with a raised brow. He turned the letter upside-down, flipped it backwards, and read it again.

“I don't get it.”

Then, it happened.

A deep, rumbling boom shattered Spike’s balance and he fell right on his face. He lifted himself, coughed out dust, and shook his head. But when he turned around, he sorely wished he hadn’t.

There, in the faded distance, was Canterlot Castle. Crumbling to pieces. Its once-mighty towers tumbled like severed trees. A shimmering dot ejected from the thick debris, high into the blackened sky. 

With a jagged flash of lightning and a booming shockwave, that dot shot ahead.

Straight toward Ponyville.

“Oh, no...” Spike whispered as he stumbled back. “He didn’t.”

The dot grew, and with it came a distant roar.

Spike ran.

“He did!” he cried. “Discord read the letter!”

And so, as Spike dashed back to Twilight’s castle with speed no baby dragon could've ever achieved, his forgotten letter joined the other debris in the gale winds. If fortune had ever smiled on the planet of Equus, perhaps other ponies might’ve seen the letter as well, and heeded its one urgent message.

Run.





“And you know exactly what you’re going to do?” Rarity asked for the fifth time.

Twilight stifled an annoyed sigh. “I do. There’s not really much else I can do. It all comes down to honesty in the end.”

Applejack bit her lip. “Now, sugarcube, normally I’d agree, and we all know that, but…”

Twilight threw an empty smile at the unsigned book floating in her magical grasp.

“You know what? Maybe just outright giving Discord his book back is a little…” Rainbow Dash trailed off. “Could you maybe sneak it back into the Archi—”

“No, girls,” Twilight cut in. “I’ve already made my decision. And... you were right—all of you. I should have told him the moment I realized it was his. So what if he’d bother me about it, or if he’d want it back immediately. This belongs to him. This is him.”

“Oh,” came Fluttershy’s quiet whimper. “I’m proud of you Twilight, I am, but…” All eyes shifted to her, and, frighteningly enough, she didn’t care. “He’s really upset about his book. And if he finds out you took it, especially after what you told him...” She started shaking. “What if he doesn’t forgive you?”

Twilight was silent, just staring at the book as though it were a sleeping foal. “Then consider this a two-way test; me, owning up to wronging a friend. And him, forgiving a friend.” A lopsided grin found her lips. “Huh. Ironic.”

Pinkie Pie’s constant, unending shivers became outright spasms, all four legs waving like velvet flags. She started screaming through clenched teeth and regaling her friends with spittles of gibberish.

Rainbow Dash offered her pink friend a tired stare. “Layin’ it on a little thick, aren’t ya, Pinks?”

Then, like it never even happened, Pinkie’s quaking shivers stopped, and she just sat there with blank eyes. Silent. Staring at the closest wall.

“Uh…” Applejack carefully began. “You okay there, sugarcu—”

“Boned.” Pinkie muttered. “We’re all boned. So very, very boned...”

Rainbow shot AJ a look, pointing at Pinkie. AJ just shrugged.

“Oh my…”

All eyes turned to Rarity, who stared stiffly out the window. “Ugh, what now?” Applejack asked, growing annoyed.

“Look…” the unicorn could only whisper.

After a shared glance, the mares—except for a driveling Pinkie—approached the large window. Every. Jaw. Dropped. The gale winds, the lightning, the vortexes strewn along the skies, the tornados dancing across the distant lands.

“Well. I imagine Discord is getting slightly impatient,” Rarity said, gaining flat glares stares from her friends. “What?”

Twilight sighed and said, “Guess that’s my cue.”

With wings open, eyes closed, and tome in grasp, the princess of friendship turned to exit the rotunda and confront her greatest challenge yet. That was the plan, anyway, and certainly not jumping and yelping at the deep, earth-shattering boom that nearly shook the tree-castle to pieces.

It was right then and there, of course, that a deeply-buried unicorn instinct shot to the surface, reminding Twilight of her roots… and that her magic still frizzed out when she was startled.

Perhaps that wasn’t so bad. In fact, any other time, Twilight would've smiled at the old habit and laughed about it.

But there was nothing to laugh about. Nothing at all. Every torn page from the now mangled book told her that. They also told her that she was unforgivably stupid, that she was a waste of flesh and semen, and that some heinous action in a past life must’ve wrought this karma.

But mostly, the scattered rain of pages told her she was doomed.

Completely. Utterly. Incomprehensibly. 

Doomed.

Twilight collapsed on her haunches, her jaw hanging, her pupils shrinking. She didn’t even hear the cluttered shouts of her friends, or feel a crying Fluttershy’s hooves violently shake her shoulders.

She saw only darkness and months of written-work raining down like so many epitaphs.

“But…” Twilight cracked the tiniest smile. “But…” A tiny whimpering laugh escaped her lips. “But it’s not fair.”

The large double-doors swung open, and a panting Spike barreled toward the gang, ignoring the fluttering pages. All eyes turned to him as he huffed and wheezed to catch his breath.

Finally, after a deep inhale and the inability to pause between sentences... “It’s not like I did it to get you trouble, that’d be stupid! I only wrote that letter to turn everything back to normal! I didn’t want to, at first, but you were going crazy with guilt and you were hurting and I couldn’t stand it anymore! So I left the castle so you wouldn’t see me, but I saw the weather and remembered what Fluttershy told us, and I knew I had to do something! But now he knows you took the book, and I didn’t want him to know, and now he’s coming, and I’m so, so sorry!”

Somewhere between Spike’s breathless explanation, he barged past Fluttershy and threw himself at Twilight’s hooves, every mare gawking at him.

Purple hooves slapped onto the whimpering dragon’s shoulders and lifted him to a bug-eyed alicorn’s muzzle.

“You. Did. What?!”

Another quake rumbled through the earth and sent everypony tumbling down. Pebbles of diamonds and masonry sprinkled the rotunda. Applejack jumped up and galloped to the now-cracked window, her hooves pressed upon the sill.

“Uh-oh…” the farm pony said.

Twilight lowered Spike to the floor, never turning to the window. “He’s here… isn’t he?” she asked flatly.

Fluttershy, now airborne, zipped to the window, biting her hooves at the distant crater and rising smoke. “No. No, no, no nonononono! This can’t be happening! Not now!”

That’s when Spike noticed the pages spread across the floor. His eyes widened as he glimpsed at some of the text, text he’d once heard Twilight mumble aloud on one of her sleepless nights.

“Oh, we’re so boned,” Spike cried. “Boned! Boned, you understand me?! Boned!”

“You’re not helping, Spike!” Rainbow Dash shouted. “W-what are we supposed to do now?! We can’t let Discord see this!”

“He won’t,” came Twilight strong, even voice, her horn coming aglow.

“But, darling," Rarity argued, “what if—”

“He won’t.”

Everypony turned to Twilight, staring in wonder as a soft windless hurricane of pages circled her, the mangled book cover opened wide before her.

“I’ll fix this.”

The finality in Twilight’s tone silenced the room completely.

The howling winds outside ended that silence. Twilight’s friends all stared out the window again, and saw a growing crowd around the smoky crater.

“Girls,” Fluttershy said, “we have to buy her time.”

Nopony spoke; they all knew what had to be done, of course. There was no other way. They turned back to the monsoon of written text and the baby dragon frantically sweeping stray pages into his arms.

“Twilight,” Applejack said, pulling the brim of her hat. “No matter what happens, don’t come out ‘till the jobs done, ya hear?”

The pages spun faster, and they flapped back to the open cover one by one. Without another word, the five mares ran past the focused alicorn and out of the rotunda.





Pandemonium was a errant normality in Ponyville.

Be it a stampede of startled bovines, a tidal wave of frightened bunnies, rampaging Ursa Minors, thorned Everfree vines, or devilish centaurs hellbent on world-domination, Ponyville had no shortage of excitement.

That excitement, of course, gained the natural reaction: ponies screaming back into their homes with removed welcome mats, doors locked and shutters shut, and never emerging until the threat passed.

Rarely had Ponyvillians returned to their homes, packed their things, barricaded their doors and windows, double-checked their food storages, and held their families close beneath their beds. Rarely had Ponyvillians thought so adamantly that they were doomed.

Rare, indeed, bordering on impossible. But when Canterlot Castle blew up, that day became a cut above the rest.

That day, as winds shook the rooftops and bent the trees to painful-looking angles, as lightning and thunder roared across the heavens, and twisters lifted land and water alike, the collective survival instinct of Ponyville was pushed to the edge.

Some fool ponies had braved the madness that day, shouting futilely for their young who didn’t make it home before the storm worsened, their cries swallowed by howling winds. Others had taken refuge with complete strangers, where they shared stories and memories like childhood friends, then shared their regrets with a good cry or two.

But a select few had stood stoutly in the storm, holding up signs that encouraged repentance, their tears long-since shed and their muzzles lifted with accepting smiles. 

And the cause of all this pandemonium was seething in a twenty-by-twenty foot crater, curtained by rising smoke. A crater by which some of those fool ponies gathered.

A particular group of fool ponies galloped toward the crater with determined frowns and, some could say, a deathwish.

With blood surging through their tense limbs and sweat on their brow, the Elements of Harmony stopped before the crater. Two beaming red dots met them from behind the now-fading smoke. After several gasps and shudders, everypony stumbled back as the smoke revealed a familiar shape.

There he was, floating stiffly above that crater. Unsmiling. Unentertained. Frowning.

He scowled straight ahead at Twilight’s distant home. “Hm. Looks like my trajectory was a little off.”

He hovered to the ground like pollen pushed by gentle winds, and landed stoutly before the trembling Elements of Harmony, whom he’d seemed to only just notice.

“Fluttershy.”

All her timidity had returned with a mind-destroying vengeance as her wings snapped closed.

Fluttershy gulped. “Hi Discord.”

“I’ve found it, my dear,” the spirit said. “The book I’ve tirelessly sought for nearly ten days is finally within my reach.”

She gulped again. “Oh. Th-that’s great!” she cheered as best she could, which wasn’t all that much.

Discord paused, and a strange smile found his lips. “Of course, how fast you galloped out of that castle only begs one question.” He hunched down, his face hovering inches to her’s. “How long have you known?”

Fluttershy blanched and choked on air.

Discord’s smile went crooked, his voice low and smooth. “Surely you don’t conspire against me…”

Fluttershy was immediately in tears. “No! Never!” she cried. “I swear, I only found out today! I didn’t know Twilight had the book! None of us did!”

Discord’s face snapped into another scowl, a deep growl vibrating the very air. “So it is true! That sneaky little…!”

The draconequus shook with balled fists, and a distant mountain crumbled apart and lifted into a stray vortex, swallowed from top to bottom. Rainbow Dash caught the sight and gulp loudly.

“But she didn’t mean it!” Fluttershy defended.

“Hah!” Discord laughed. “She promised to ‘help me find it’, that she’d ‘organize a search in Canterlot if she had to’, while she had it all along. And you think she didn’t mean to steal it?!” He released another barking laugh. “In another circumstance I’d have admired her deception.”

His hard, crushing scowl found the castle again, his fists shaking all the more.

“Hold on there, Discord,” came Applejack’s strong tone. “You’re upset. I get that. But ya don’t exactly seem all that friendly right now, ‘specially toward Twilight.”

Discord growled louder at the name.

A sweating Rarity stepped forward. “So the real question here is…”

“What exactly are you gonna do?” Rainbow finished, no less sweaty.

Discord’s scowl lifted into an unreadable stare. He chuckled and said, “Well, I suppose that’s fair. After all, friends don’t keep secrets from friends.” He lifted an eagle talon toward Twilight’s home. “See that castle over there? The first thing I’ma do is march to it.”

“Uh-huh?” they all chimed.

“Then, I’ma knock on the door.”

“Go on,” they chimed again.

“And when Twilight’s sweet, well-proportioned, unsuspecting face pokes out…” the ponies gulped, “This,” he pointed to his clenched lion fist, “is crashing into it.”

“Now wait a second!” Pinkie chirped. “You can’t just go around punching ponies in the face!”

“Let’s test that theory, shall we?” Discord replied as he marched past the nervous mares.

Fluttershy bit her hooves. “We have to do something!” she whimpered.

Applejack gritted her teeth, pressed a hoof against her temple. She galloped after the marching spirit.

“Listen, Discord,” Applejack said, slowing to a trot. “Surely there's somethin' you'd rather do than write.”

Discord kept marching.

“Applejack is right, dear,” a trotting Rarity added with a nervous chuckle. “You could, uh… uh, well… Knitting! You could try knitting.”

Discord stopped in his tracks and stared blankly at Rarity. “Knitting?”

The unicorn nodded. “Knitting.”

Discord stared only seconds longer, then returned to his march, blinking all the while.

Rarity hyperventilated and looked frantically to a hovering Rainbow Dash. “In the name of all things holy, stop him!”

With a bitten lip, the chromatic pegasus darted past Discord, then whirled back to him, her nervous grin meeting his seething scowl.

“So, I’ve always wanted to see how fast you were, Discord,” she said. “How about a race? First one to that cloud—” she paused when she pointed to black clouds that looked remarkably similar—“wins! Ready, set, go!”

Rainbow zipped away in a burst of color.

Discord kept marching, but stopped again as giant blue eyes locked onto his.

“Come on, Discord!” Pinkie Pie cheered with her mile-wide grin. “You don’t need some silly old book to make you happy! And I know the perfect stress-reliever!” She grabbed his face and spun him back toward Ponyville. “Just look at the unsuspecting populace, locked up in their little housies, holding loved ones tight.” Discord frowned in concern. “Perfect time for a prank or two, am I right?!” he raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at his lips.

A scowling Rainbow Dash zipped back to the group. “You could’ve said ‘no’, instead of leavin’ me hangin’ like th—”

Her friends shushed her and pointed to Discord and Pinkie.

“Just think of it!” Pinkie continued. “From snakes in a can and fake spiders in the cereal, to dribble-glasses and the old boxing-glove-jack-in-the-box!”

Discord smiled in-full and turned to Twilight’s castle, stroking his beard.

Pink hooves guided him back to worried blue eyes. “Uh, maybe that last one’s a bit much. But I’m sure we can come with more!”

After a beat of silence, Discord drummed his mismatched digits together and snickered. The group’s eyes brightened with hope.

“Ooh! We can even make a competition out of it!” Pinkie added, bouncing in place. “You know, like that prank-war you totally lost at that Ballroom Party last time!”

Discord’s smile vanished.

“Still can’t believe I pranked more nobles than you, though,” Pinkie said, poking her chin. “Ah, well! Maybe, despite your crushing, debilitating failure,” Discord’s frown returned, “you can come up with something more original than fake glow-in-the-dark blood! I mean, come on, that’s so twenty minutes ago!”

Strong orange hooves latched over Pinkie’s still-running mouth and yanked her away. She pulled Applejack’s hooves down.

“What? I was on a roll!”

“Yeah, we noticed,” Rainbow said with rolling eyes.

Fluttershy stepped before Pinkie with a gentle smile. “Oh, Pinkie, I know you’re trying to liven Discord’s spirit, but we have to be careful. Let's not say anything that might upset him, okay?”

Pinkie raised a brow and asked, “Was I doing that?”

Everypony frowned at her.

“Huh,” was Pinkie’s only answer.

Fluttershy stared at the ground in thought. “We have to talk about what makes him happy. And nothing makes him happier than talking about himself or his accomplishments.” She paused, then smiled bright. “Wait, that’s it!”

But when she turned to face her ageless friend, he was several yards away, marching toward the castle.

“Discord!” they all cried, chasing after him.

Fluttershy gulped quietly and took the plunge, zipping right in his path with her most pleading eyes. Discord stopped.

“Now, I know you’re upset right now, and you have every right to be,” the kind mare said, laying a gentle hoof on Discord’s scowling grey muzzle. “But Twilight meant no harm in taking your book.”

Discord snorted and moved to continue his march. Fluttershy pressed her other hoof to his face.

“She loves your book, Discord. She’s read and reread hundreds of chapters to understand you, to know you. Surely you can appreciate that.”

Discord stopped moving, and Fluttershy released his face with a smile.

“Think about it, sugarcube,” Applejack added. “Twilight’s cooped herself up in that castle for a week reading that there book o’ yours. That’s gotta tell ya it’s beyond good.”

Discord scratched his muzzle. “Well, I have worked on it non-stop for several months. I should hope it’s good,” he said.

“Exactly,” Rainbow Dash chimed in, hovering next to Fluttershy. “You’d think with an egghead like Twilight, she’d read any old book, but she doesn’t. Heck, I’ve seen her read three pages on one book, scream at it, and throw it out the window. If she’s this obsessed—enough to lie right to your face—it’s gotta be one of the best.”

Discord smiled again.

“Besides,” Rarity moved in, “if memory serves, you haven’t even finished it. Imagine, darling, outlining your coup de grace as Twilight reads what you’ve created only to surprise her—to surprise all of us—with an ending that brings it all together.”

Discord smiled wider.

Fluttershy swooped in for the kill. “Remember, Discord, I was there when you wrote the first sentence. I was there every time you slammed your face against a wall to clear your head. I saw you create art with your bare hands.” She lowered to the ground and smiled on. “Now you can show us all how you’ll finish it.”

Discord glanced at the ravaging skies in deep thought, an elbow resting in his palm. In that instant, the winds calmed, and the distant twisters began to thin. The lightning stopped whipping the earth, retreating back to the black clouds.

Discord paced back and forth, his brow furrowed in thought. “Hmm… Yes, that’s good… Yes I could… Oh, that’s brilliant, yes. I’ll… Why, that would tie together nicely,” he muttered to himself.

“And while you’re at it,” everypony shot terrified glances at Pinkie Pie, “try not to think of all the thousands and thousands and thousands of pages you’ve poured your blood, sweat, and te—ouch!” And orange elbow struck her flank. “I-I mean, knock ‘em dead tiger!”

Discord stopped pacing. “Hmm… Very well, then, ladies,” he said, still smiling. “Twilight’s face shall be spared. And outlining the end is a wonderful idea!” 

The mares sighed together.

"But…”

The mares seized up together.

“I’m having a terrible time remembering where I left off. It has been quite a while since I’ve seen my beloved creation, after all.”

The mares’ pupils shrank together.

Discord faced the castle again and continued his march. “I’ll need a refresher—”

“No wait!” Discord raised a brow at the pink hooves pressed against his belly. “Twilight will need time to put the pages back together,” Pinkie said. “Try back in an hour or so.”

Discord stared up for another thoughtful moment. “Eh. Very well.” He turned away and started walking. “What’s another hour compared to ten days?”

As Discord left, Pinkie sighed and smiled at her friends. “And that, girls, is how it’s done!” she cheered. Pinkie caught the wide gawks from her friends, and her smile faded a bit. “What? What’s wrong?”

The moment Rainbow Dash slowly rose a hoof and slapped her own forehead, Pinkie noticed Discord had stopped moving. Then realized she’d never seen him so still.

The spirit turned and faced the group again. He sauntered to Pinkie, crouched down, gently clamp his talons on her head, and ignored the tiny squeak as he lifted her face to his.

“What exactly did you mean, ‘put the pages back together’?” he asked with a half-lidded smile.

Pinkie’s eyes bulged as her mane and tail drooped.

“Well?” Discord persisted, his smile but a fond memory.

“I… Well, you see, I—”

“She destroyed my book, didn’t she?”

“No!”

“Didn’t she?!”

“But… but…”

“Oh, that’s it,” Discord muttered as the winds strengthened again. “That’s it!” On that booming declaration, the lightning savagely struck the earth again, and the once-shrinking twisters tripled in size. “Her face is so punched!”

Discord dropped Pinkie on her dock and continued his march to the castle, his steps becoming cracking stomps on the hard dirt road. Tears once again welled in Fluttershy’s eyes as she galloped in his path again.

“Wait, Discord!”

“No, child!” he roared, gaining a stumble and squeal from her. “I’ve stomached this game for long enough!”

The timid mare leaped from one of Discord’s crushing steps just in time. Finally, after more delays than he could tolerate, Discord reached the top of the overpass, the remaining path only a few yards to the castle.

“PRINCESS TWILIGHT! YOU HAVE SOMETHING THAT BELONGS TO ME!”

Three balls of light fell from above and landed between him and his goal. With bared teeth and another deep, rumbling growl, Discord marched on, his pace quickened all the more.

The three spheres faded into three winged mares, each bearing their own scuffs and scratches.

“Enough of this madness, Discord!” Celestia demanded.

“We know you’re upset, but this has gone too far!” Cadance shouted.

“Cease now, and we will return your book!” Luna added.

Discord didn’t stop. “Stand aside! This no longer concerns you.”

Celestia hissed through clenched teeth as her horn glowed. She vanished with a loud burst and reappeared only a few feet from Discord. He stopped.

“Unacceptable! You’ve destroyed Canterlot Castle in your campaign!” Celestia screamed with barely-held tears. “This quest you’ve undertaken—this outrageous search for your book—has caused nothing but destruction! Look around at what you’re doing!”

Discord released yet another barking laugh, and a chain of lightning boomed with it. “You blame me when ponies, to which you’ve trusted the very sovereignty of friendship, steal and lie to their friends?!” He clenched a fist. “Who’s the real villain here?!”

Celestia swiped at the dirt like an angry bull. “That’s not the point! Angry or not, Discord, your actions and current plans border on betrayal!”

“It is her who has betrayed me!” Discord bellowed with a paw to his chest. “Did you really think I’d read that letter and just walk away?!”

“And do you think anypony’s forgotten your betrayal?! Do you think you’re innocent?!”

“Hah! Me?! I’m a presumptuous wretch who wouldn’t know how to be a good friend if instructions were nailed to my forehead, but at least I’m honest about it!”

Celestia’s lips pulled behind her gums. “You will not get past me, Discord,” she growled. “You will not harm my student!”

Discord’s eyes nearly jutted from his head. He unleashed a shout that lifted jagged, stony blades from the earth, and tripled the lightning above.

“I’m sick of your impudence, Celestia!” He lifted a clawed finger at the white alicorn. “You will stand aside, or I will move you myself!”

Luna and Cadance landed beside Celestia with sparking horns, and the spirit’s eyes glowed red.

“Discord!”

Everything stopped.

With a slight twitch of the ear, Discord’s wide, disbelieving eyes lost their glow. The alicorns gasped and turned back to Ponyville Castle only to see its frowning owner standing tall before opened double-doors.

“I’m here…” Twilight said.

“No!” Cadance yelled. “Get back inside! It’s not safe!”

Twilight walked forward, unaffected by the shouting protests of her fellow alicorns and Elements of Harmony.

Discord’s wide eyes narrowed oh so very slowly. His jaw set tight. His shoulders shook. His brows pushed together until it hurt. He grinded his teeth against one another. His breathing became deeper and heavier.

“I know why you’re here, Discord,” Twilight said, stopping a few feet from her castle doors. “Your issue is with me, and me alone.”

“Yes, my ‘friend’,” Discord muttered deeply. “Yes it is.”

Celestia exchanged worried glances between Discord and Twilight. She double-took the spirit, and suddenly, breathing seemed all but impossible. With wide trembling eyes, Celestia saw a completely different creature standing before her.

A focused creature. A creature of reckoning and creation. A creature—she had to remind herself many a time—that could've destroyed and recreated her world any way he chose.



And so, the angry draconequus—no, the God of Chaos—began his march again, and terror that Celestia never dared to imagine beat through her veins.

“Discord, stop!” she yelled.

He didn’t.

With strength and courage she completely forgot she had, Celestia threw herself mere inches before him.

“I said, sto—”

A clawed lion paw clamped around her face like a threatened cobra. Everypony gasped and stammered in horror. Celestia stared helplessly into those red, focused eyes, her neck twisted awkwardly, her breath seized by fear.

“Let her go, Discord!” Twilight ordered.

Discord tossed the alicorn aside and lifted two fingers. With a symphony of screams and cries, Luna, Cadance, Celestia, Applejack, Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie, Rarity, and Fluttershy were lifted off the ground, encased in gold light.

Discord snapped his fist shut, and all the mares froze right where they floated. Immobile. Helpless. Only able to watch and scream for Twilight to escape.

He focused his sights ahead, his goal before him, only grass and a dirt road separating the two. He began his march for the final time. Twilight stood tall and strong before the approaching deity, her wings proud and erect.

That bravery soon turned to ash at the growing destruction.

The storm worsened with Discord’s every step. Homes were taken off their foundations, mountains crumbled like towers of building blocks—the taller ones falling like fat trees. Vortexes swallowed the rubble. Land and water meshed with lightning and gale winds. Tidal waves of soil and architecture roared across the horizon.

Worse, Twilight could hear the screams, the screams of ponies who had nothing to do with this. And she knew it was all her fault.

Finally, Discord reached her, standing only inches away, looking down with his chest held stiff.

Twilight shivered as beads of sweat ran off her chin, her wings closing and tightening to her sides. 

He lifted his paw skyward, and clouds funneled directly above him. Powerful bolts lashed from those clouds and struck Discord’s paw, electrifying it with eons worth of sheer cosmic wrath.

He balled a fist, pointed at it, then pointed at Twilight. The alicorn's horn glowed and hummed.

With a mighty stomp that may or may not have obliterated the eastern half of Equestria, Discord positioned himself. He reeled his crackling fist back. Twilight closed her eyes and flattened her ears.

He threw the punch, and Twilight’s horn glowed brighter, her eyes squeezing tighter.

Wafting swirls of power left Discord’s fist as it soared to Twilight; Alpha and Omega all rolled into one, hurtling toward her face, forces of Creation and Destruction ready to undo that face and start it anew—perhaps seconds after, perhaps ten-thousand years from then.

The fist drew closer and Twilight felt it. Her mane whipped to and fro, her sweat became chilled and stuck to her body. The fist drew closer. Closer. Closer.

But it didn't come.

Seconds passed. The blow didn’t come. More seconds passed. Still, the blow didn’t come. Twilight dared to peek an eye open and saw that furry arm stretched past her.

The arm retracted, holding a very thick, very well-repaired book.

Discord stood up straight, staring at the book like he’d never seen it before. Neither him or Twilight knew how long he stood there. One could say his pose would make a fascinating statue in Canterlot garden.

“One chance,” he muttered. “You have one chance to explain why I shouldn’t punch you in the face, Twilight Sparkle.”

Thunder clapped against the sky. Twilight jumped while Discord remained deathly still. Waiting. The alicorn stared at her hooves, then frowned at them. Discord waited, cradling his cherished book beneath his arm. He waited, and waited, and waited some more.

“I… I can’t,” Twilight said.

Discord raised a brow.

“I can’t explain. You have every reason to do so. Heck, just a deck in the schnoz is far too kind, but I guess that’s Fluttershy’s influence, huh?”

Discord snorted but didn’t smile.

“Look…” Twilight mustered her courage and looked Discord right in the eye, ignoring the guilt striking her heart like so many scorpions. “I’m… I’m a terrible friend, alright?”

Discord said nothing.

“I knew it was wrong, even before I knew you wrote it, but…” Twilight trailed off. “The first page told me things about you I never even fathomed: your age, your wisdom… I wanted—no, I needed—to know more.”

Discord frowned, and Twilight caught it.

“I-I’m not trying to justify my actions, and no apology could ever make up for lying to you, but…” Twilight bit her lip, holding those damning tears with all her strength. “I’m sorry, Discord.”

Every second of silence was like a stomp on Twilight’s heart. Discord just stood there, staring, contemplating, processing. Seconds turned to minutes, the winds, thunder, and misshapen earth long-forgotten.

Discord glanced at his book, then back to Twilight, looking as though he would speak. But he didn’t. He was as still as a windless summer night, and equally silent. Twilight had to physically try to keep her hoof from clutching over her breaking heart.

He scowled and raised a shaking fist.

Twilight gasped and squeezed her eyes shut, her ears folding back. This was it.

She counted the blessings in her life, the lessons she cherished each day, the friends she’d laughed with, fought with, and learned with. She briefly wondered if she’d live through her well-deserved punishment to see them again. Or, if she did survive, how long she’d wait to speak to them as her soon-to-be-broken face healed.

From everything she expected to feel, an open palm on her head wasn’t among them.

With a tiny squeak, Twilight peeked an eye open and saw, yet again, a tired Discord sitting before her, his paw draped on her head.

“You. Are so. So stupid,” he said.

Twilight opened her other eye, staring at the spirit in awe.

“And yet, you seem to find the most obscene ways to teach me things,” Discord continued. “I’ll never truly understand it, no matter how many books I write.”

Twilight’s strength left her and she collapsed on her haunches.

Discord sighed and said, “Yes. Perhaps you do deserve a deck in the schnoz, and yes, perhaps you are a terrible friend, but… You and I really aren’t so different. We both still have much to learn; me, an old soul who had spent three-hundred-twenty-seven-billion years alone. And you, a budding young leader who can turn even the worst of enemies into friends that would die for each other.”

Right then, Twilight realized she was gawking. “Th...th-three-hundr… Oh my gosh…”

“Others gravitate to you, Twilight: living breathing Element of Friendship. They acknowledge you not for your intelligence or power, but for what you’ve still to learn, and what you can teach them. They wish to learn with you, grow with you, make mistakes and become strong with you.” Discord cast his gaze aside. “Huh. Perhaps that’s why your face is still intact."  

Twilight closed her mouth, her eyes trembling.

“I know I shouldn’t be angry with you, Twilight,“ Discord continued. “It seems I too still have little hiccups with… my friends.” He couldn't help but smile at those last words. “I suppose this makes us even, what with my little coup d'etat with Tirek.”

“Is… is that what you really think of me?”

Discord smiled. “Well, I may have censored myself a bit, but yeah.”

The moment his paw slid off Twilight’s head, her shoulders shook. She threw herself forward, her arms locking around him.

“I promise I’ll never lie to you again,” Twilight said. “Ever.”

He hesitated, he even looked a bit scared. But soon Discord relaxed and returned the hug with his own smile. He slithered from a smiling Twilight’s grip, leaving her prone on the ground. 

He stood tall and sauntered forward, his gaze fixed on the marred land before him, the twisters that still roamed free, the lightning that still licked the earth, the black blanket that still covered the sky.

“Yes…” he whispered, taking another glance at his book. “Still much to learn, indeed.”

He brought both hands to his chest and inhaled. Then, with an exhale so slow and so deep, a sphere of light burst from him. That sphere grew and grew. It swallowed everything in its wake; Twilight, her castle, her fellow leaders, her friends, the jagged land, the destroyed homes, the shattered mountains, the twisters, the sky.

All of it.

In seconds that ball of light faded to nothing. And in its place were blue skies, free of twisting winds and destructive light, lush green fields watched by silent, protective mountains, and the town of Ponyville completely restored, its inhabitants unharmed but utterly, hopelessly confused.

Twilight’s fellow Elements galloped to her side, showering her with cheers and relieved nuzzles. Discord stood right where he was, staring out into the now-clear horizon. His ears flicked at the cautious hoof steps of the alicorn royalty.

He sighed. “I know, I know. I went a little overboard.”

“A little overb—”Celestia sealed her lips, shut her eyes, and took a hissing breath through her nostrils. “Yes, Discord, yes you did.”

Luna turned her head and smiled at the restored Canterlot Castle. “Well, I’d say you’ve redeemed yourself, but…”

Discord’s ears dropped as he gestured lazily to Princess Cadance.

“But that doesn’t excuse the grievances you’ve caused our neighboring delegates,” Cadance said with a frown. “Not to mention the Crystal Empire’s now-imbalanced economy.”

Discord sighed again. “Of course. I will have much to do after I finish.”

Cadance tilted her head. Luna leaned toward her, pointing at the book cradled and caressed in Discord’s grip.

“Ah.” Cadance said.

Celestia stared at the serpentine spirit for a long moment, her eyes gentle and... sad. She stepped closer to Discord’s side, sharing his view. It was strange—absurd, really—how she’d once always wanted his silence when he spoke. Even after he spoke.

This? This wasn’t natural. No tuneless humming, no senseless clicking of his teeth, no mumbling. It wasn’t natural and it wasn’t right. She had to do something, to say something, anything.

Celestia turned to look at him for only a moment or two, then turned back to the lush horizon. “I’m glad you didn’t do it.”

Discord held the thick tome tight in his eagle claws, staring thoughtfully at it. “Me too.” 

He opened the book cover and flipped through the crisp pages one by one, closing his eyes to the leathery musk he’d grown so used to. He smiled, and Celestia couldn’t help but smile too.

Without another word, Discord turned away from Twilight’s castle altogether and walked, absently flipping through pages and reviewing what he’d written.

The castle doors flew open, and a frantic baby dragon dashed toward Twilight. He leaped upon the alicorn, examining every inch of her like a doctor out of a job.

“Ngh! What are you,” little claws squeezed her cheeks, pushing her head aside, “doing Shpike?”

Spike stopped his oddities and gave Twilight a look from atop her back. “Wait a second. You’re... okay?” he asked.

Twilight shook herself composed and smiled. “Yes, Spike, I’m okay.”

“No bruises?”

“Nope.”

“No broken bones?”

“Nope.”

“No hemorrhaging organs?”

“What the—no.” Twilight wrinkled her muzzle.

Spike fell on his bottom, now straddling the mare with a hand to his forehead, his eyes wide and searching. “So, Discord just let you go?”

Twilight’s smile sullied a bit. “Not without a lesson to share. Turns out someone who’s lived a life without friends, and one who lives because of friends, are equally naïve about friendship.”

Spike vaulted off of her, and bit his thumb. “Huh… Well, now I just feel bad.”

By now, the other alicorns had joined the group, and Twilight’s smile vanished. “What’s wrong?” she asked

The little dragon hesitated. “Okay… But you can’t get mad at me.”

Twilight frowned. “Wait. What did you do?”

Spike pulled out a bundle of paper, and Twilight frowned harder.

“See, I was so worried that Discord would hurt you, I kept a few pages from his book. Would teach him to mess with my friends, I thought.”

Everypony gaped at him.

Twilight snatched the pages with her magic. “Spike! How could you?!”

“What?” Spike said. “Too much?”

She opened her mouth to give Spike the verbal lashing he so richly deserved. Then her ears flicked at manically-paced footsteps. She turned her head, and a hurdling fist crashed into her nose.

That very moment was a moment in history that would never, never, ever repeat. For in that very moment, infants across the cosmos—infants that would help lead their worlds to evolutionary new heights—were born. 

In that moment, young inexperienced lovers, who’d fought the oppression and forbiddance of their own families, found each other in bed for the first time.

In that moment, a star that had guided many a traveler across the universe shined its brightest in all its billions of years, then swallowed asteroids, moons, and unlucky sods that happened to be traveling, into a black hole.

In that moment, clusters of stars, gas, and gamma bolts meshed together in a burst that could destroy Equus two-hundred million times over, swirling and growing in a blistering hellstorm of fire and stars. Thus; a new galaxy was born.

Twilight may have very well seen these things, but was unlikely to ever remember them.

The punch forced her to her hind legs, her head turned stiffly aside, her wide eyes blank and distant. Her quickly-swelling face hit the ground, and a frowning Discord retracted his smoking fist, lifted a finger, and took his book’s missing pages.

He walked away and smile wider than he had in ten days, knowing, right then and there, how he’d finish that book.


THE END