//------------------------------// // Chapter Seven — Redo // Story: Rewrite // by Bluegrass Brooke //------------------------------// Despite the perpetually cold crystal pressing against Twilight’s side, there remained a pleasant warmth across her neck. At first, the sensation reminded her of a scarf. Sooo soft. Her heart skipped a beat. Too soft . . .  and warm. Although confused, Twilight really could not bring herself to break away. Too tired to get up, she burrowed into the not-scarf allowing the warmth to soak into her coat. Its surface—what felt like hair—had an equally pleasant downy texture that seemed to snuggle her right back. Strange as might be, at that moment, Twilight felt undeniably safe . . . protected . . . happy. Yes, happier than she had been in days. For once, sleeping in didn’t seem all that bad of an idea. Just as she began to drift off, her eyes flickered open and she froze. Discord? Sure enough, her not-scarf proved to be Discord and the “wall” her hooves had been pressing against all night proved to be his bandaged chest. Immediately she removed the pressure, eyeing him with wide eyes. A wave of panic swept momentarily over her until the pieces from last night fell into place. A soft smile found its way across her lips. Her eyes tracked up Discord’s fuzzy chest to where it met his smooth chocolate hairs. His neck curled around her own and over her back, revealing the reason for her earlier scarf assumption. Though his face hid behind her back, his hot, steady breaths tickled the feathers. She turned her neck just enough to regard him out of the corner of her eyes. Discord’s own eyes were closed as a steady rumbling like that of a small motor escaped from his nostrils. Twilight could not help but giggle at the small smile still plastered  across his muzzle. He looks so peaceful . . .  She could not remember a time she had ever seen him this peaceful. No matter the situation, he always wore that amused or mocking grin on his face, never a genuine smile. But now, there he was. Just smiling peacefully as he slumbered right beside her. One of the most powerful beings in Equestria, just lying there, blind to what she could do to him. Trusting her this much . . . He looked happy. Just like her. After all that happened within the past few days and yesterday’s events, he finally smiled. Maybe this really was a new beginning . . . a fresh start. Only this time, she would make certain it went the way it should have in the first place. It’ll work out, it just has to.  A long yawn escaped her, and she tried to stretch out a bit. Just then, she noticed the eagle claw spread over her back. She blinked, trying to think of a way to get out without waking him. He needed all the rest he could get. After nearly ten minutes of careful adjusting, she successfully got out of the awkward position. Glad to have freedom of movement again, she took a moment to fully stretch her back, legs, and wings. Taking in a deep breath through her nostrils, she released it, glancing around the library. Exactly the same as they had left it last night. Twilight tried not to note the research books scattered hither and yon across the library floor. The brilliant beams of light filtering through the windows drew her to them. Striding over to the balcony, she took in a lungful of fresh morning air and the panoramic view of Ponyville. From her vantage point, she could make out the market and a few familiar ponies already making their rounds. Though it might be ordinary and boring to most ponies, the sight never ceased to make her smile. After standing there for a few minutes, her attention turned back to the sleeping draconequus by the door. Twilight walked over, stopping just one hoof length in front of him. Her smile shattered as she took in the bandages bound around his midsection. The image of him slamming into the bookshelf flashed in her mind. Without intending to, her eyes fell to the bookshelf . Try as she may, she could not help but remember the sticky warmth of his blood on her hoof. Shaking her head, she pulled her attention from the shelf. Dwelling on what happened would not help her, and it most certainly would not cure Discord. Once again looking at Discord, she slowly leaned down, giving his neck the slightest nuzzle. She held her head there for a moment, taking in the rich, earthy scent emanating from his coat. Then, softly, she whispered, “You’re going to be okay . . . from now on everything will be different. I promise.” Raising her head, Twilight regarded him one last time. “And that’s a promise I intend to keep,” she breathed. Then, turning towards the door, she stepped out into the hallway. As she walked down the hall, her mind drifted back to yesterday evening. Discord’s words had ripped her heart apart. The way they treated him . . . it was just wrong. And to think she had been blind to the reality for so long. It took a second to realize she had stopped walking, too caught up in her thoughts. That moment when he broke down and started sobbing in front of her . . . She couldn’t even find the words to describe how horrible it had been. Then he started leaving and she panicked. She wouldn’t allow it to end there . . . she had to—no needed to apologize. No matter what came next and no matter how, she needed him to know how sorry she was about what they did to him. What she did to him . . . She had managed to stop Discord before he left. It took every ounce of willpower she possessed to get up after processing his words. But he had to say them, if not for himself, then for her.  To wake her up . . . Then, most surprisingly, Discord actually stayed and . . . even returned the embrace. She smiled to herself. That moment, though small, marked the first step towards mending their broken friendship. Though, Twilight giggled softly, it was kind of awkward. Shaking her head, she continued towards the kitchen. Once inside, she took a quick inventory of the pantry’s contents. Hmm. “He needs to eat a proper meal if he’s going to heal. What would he like though? Ah!” She levitated a box of pancake mix to eye-level. “Perfect.” Discord had enjoyed Spike’s pancakes, so hopefully he would enjoy hers too. After that, they could get back to research and she could get back to setting things right. Setting things right, huh? As she worked, last night’s conversation replayed itself once more . . . Twilight found herself frozen in place, unable to process the situation further. Discord stopped . . . now what? Every time she looked up to speak, the words drowned themselves in tears. Then he brought his arms around her, warm and comforting. Without realizing it, she slackened her grip around his neck. She felt him sink to the ground in front of her. As he did, the overwhelming guilt crashed over her and she gripped him tightly, crying into his shoulder. It’s all my fault. I should have known . . . How did I miss the signs? She felt a steady pressure as he leaned his head over her neck, tears wetting her mane.  Despite her breakdown, or perhaps because of it, he continued to stroke her back gently. Twilight wanted—needed to speak, but could not find the words. Suddenly, Discord’s voice broke the silence, nearly causing her to jump. “Hush now . . .” he whispered shakily in the most gentle tone she had ever heard him use. “I-I’m sorry . . . I’m so sorry,” she whimpered, legs quivering. Though she tried to stop herself, the sobs returned. “Discord . . . you’re not a monster . . . you’re anything but that! We’re the monsters!” The words were wholly inadequate for the situation. All the words in Equestria wouldn’t be enough to describe how sorry she was for everything. His grip grew more firm as he hushed her again. “It’s okay, Twilight. It’s okay. Let’s just—” He shook his head, “What happened happened, you cannot change what has already transpired.” She turned to him, eyes wide. It’s not okay! And yet, here he was, kneeling in front of her and professing just that. “W-Wh. . . . How—how can you say that?” She stuttered. Discord stared into her eyes, lip moving as if to speak, but no words came out. Then, softly, “Because I know that no good comes from holding onto past mistakes . . .” He broke the gaze. You’re right, and we should have let go of yours too. . . A heady silence followed as she scrambled for anything to say. Then, he suddenly began to smile, burrowing his face into his arm, sniggering. “You’re hopeless, you know that?” “Hey now. I—” Discord turned back to her, raising her chin with his paw. “But . . .” The soft smile stretching across his face made her heart skip a beat. “That is what makes you so wonderful.” He brushed aside her forelock, nuzzling it softly. “Do not worry,” he breathed. She choked back the lump in her throat. “But we treated you so badly. We can’t-can’t erase what happened.” “No, but who’s to say we can’t start over?” “What?” Shocked, she looked into his eyes. “You-you mean it?” He gave her a toothy grin, nodding. “Yes . . . if you are willing to, then I am as well.” Twilight caught herself smiling broadly at the memory. She still couldn’t believe it had really happened. But . . . he had forgiven her and now she had the chance to make up for all the mistakes she and her friends had done. “I have a feeling today’s going to turn out a lot better,” she spoke to herself as she prepared the pancakes. Spike took pride in his adaptability. No matter what challenges life threw at him, he could handle them in stride. At least that used to be the case. Adapting to the ‘situation’ made the bottom of his priority list this morning. After a sleepless night fretting over the implications of what he saw, he had come no closer to a solution than when he started. Of course he needed to talk with Twilight, but would she even be open to listening? More than likely not. Still, he had to try, didn’t he? Just as soon as I get some breakfast. He made it halfway down the hallway when the wonderful, unmistakable smell of pancakes wafted over to his nostrils. Please don’t be Discord, please don’t be Discord! Thankfully, when he arrived at the kitchen, Twilight’s smiling face greeted him. Thank Celestia. Though happy to see her and not their resident menace, Spike could not help but be slightly unnerved by her uncharacteristic morning bird display. “Twilight? What are you—” Twilight trotted over to him, plate of pancakes trailing behind in her magic. “Good morning! Hope you don’t mind me making breakfast.” Between his exhaustion and confusion from last night, Spike really couldn’t find the right words to say. He settled for a generic response instead. “Oh, I don’t mind. It’s nice not to have to cook once in a while . . .” Plus you actually know how to cook. His stomach growled with the promise of piping hot chocolate pancakes. Guess it can wait . . . They had an  uneventful breakfast in which Twilight kept smiling and playing with the pancakes like the mares plastered on his cookbook. Every minute that passed felt like an hour as he waited for the right opportunity. As soon as she stood to clean the plates, he made his move. “Twi?” I’ve got to talk to her before it’s too late. “I need to talk to you!”   Twilight made to speak, but he interrupted, “Now. It can’t wait!” An awkward silence followed in which Twilight merely gaped at him as if he were a different dragon altogether. “Um . . . sure. What is it?” He took a deep breath, bracing himself for the inevitable argument. “Discord needs to go.” “What?”   “Discord. You need to throw him out. He can’t stay here.” He shouldn’t have been here in the first place . . . Twilight flattened her ears. “Spike! What are you—” “NO! Now you listen to me!” A jet of green flames shot from his nostrils as the blood rushed to his ears. Despite everything they had been through together, she continued to treat him like an ignorant child. Not this time. “I don’t know what he’s doing to you, Twilight, but I’m not going to stand by and let it continue!” “Stop it, Spike! Discord is—” “—Nothing but trouble! He’s the Spirit of Chaos, Twi. He’s using your guilt to make you his puppet!” Twilight’s tone darkened until it cut like a razor across his heart. “That’s not true. He is not using me, Spike. You—” “ YES HE IS!” Spike stared back into her eyes, searching. Why? Why did she remain blind to something so obvious? He couldn’t bear the thought of Twilight—his Twilight—under that monster’s spell. His voice began to quiver, “You’re worrying yourself over nothing and he’s using that. Someone like him doesn’t deserve your care.” “How can you say that?!” Her voice cracked, “Of course he does.” “Wake up, Twilight!” Spike hit one of the chairs, sending it clattering to the crystal. “He cast the spell on you. Discord’s not sorry about trying to hurt you, only sorry he lost! It’s his fault he’s like this, not yours.” Sparks of magic danced and swirled around Twilight’s horn like fireflies. Her eyes shone with anger as the tears trickled down her cheek. “It’s not his fault! It’s no-nopony’s fault.” “It’s always his fault. Everywhere he goes there’s trouble.” His voice rose in a gradual crescendo, “And you want to know why? Because it’s always about him! If it doesn’t benefit him, he doesn’t even show up!” He panted a while before continuing, “He acts like he’s our friend, but what has he ever done for us? Every time he shows up, we’re stuck cleaning up his mess. So why should you be left to clean up his, huh? What’s going to happen after he’s cured, did you ever think of that?” “He’ll play along with us for a little while, but he’ll get bored like always. And when he’s finally had enough of playing the ‘good boy,’ he’ll turn the world into his chaotic—” “—Stop it!” Twilight screamed so loud her voice boomed all the way down the hall. “That’s enough, Spike! What do you know about Discord anyway? You can’t read his mind! You don’t even give him a chance to prove himself before you start throwing stones. Sure he messes up, but we messed up worse than he did plenty of times. Why should we be forgiven while he’s punished? I bet you never—” “Quit comparing him to us! He’s not one of us. Just some freak of nature hellbent on making everyone suffer. Why should we give him another chance? He’s nothing but a MONSTER!” he screamed the last word at the top of his lungs, letting it linger in the air like a miasma. ‘He’s nothing but a MONSTER!’ The words echoed again and again in Discord’s head, growing louder and louder until the volume was maddening. He gripped the doorframe, trying to control the wave of vertigo threatening to bring him to his knees. However much he hated Spike’s words, he could not deny that most of them had been true. His life had always revolved around amusing himself regardless of the harm it brought to others. It had become so ingrained into his identity that he could not imagine life without it. Even after his reformation, he continued to toy with the very ponies he called friends. And for what? A good laugh? How hollow that sounded now . . . He wanted—needed to change his ways. But who would listen to him now? . . . And without any help, it was pointless. Even Spike—a mere child—loathed the very idea of his changing. And to assume that his apology was insincere . . . Though, he could not blame him. When had any of his apologies been genuinely sincere? Now that one had, nopony believed him. Well, save for Twilight. She might wish to make amends, but they never would. Feeling suddenly nauseous, he started off towards his room. Despite his desire to speak with Twilight, he could not deal with Spike at present. His back ached worse than he ever imagined possible. That pain coupled with his temper would be a volatile combination. He had had enough of arguing. He limped off towards his room. Though grateful for Twilight’s support, he could not help but worry. She needed Spike by her side. The thought of the two breaking ties on his account stung worse than the cut ever could. Still, she needed to sort things out with him alone. His presence would only escalate the situation. Halfway down the hall, he paused, staring down at his hands. One more try. The hollow snap that followed made his heart stop cold. His magic had not returned. It might never return. Discord found his entire body quivering at the thought . . . his now mortal body. He did not just use magic, he was magic. His life depended on his connection with it. Discord gulped, gripping his chest.  It’s time to tell her. Twilight’s entire body felt weak and numb as she stared into Spike’s cold eyes. He’s right . . . they don’t listen. They’ll never listen. To call him a monster after he had been trying so hard to change . . . “Shut up,” her icy words pierced the silence, setting Spike back a step. “Maybe . . . maybe you’re right.” Her limbs continued to shake as her anger mounted. “He’s different from most of us, yes. But you’re not a pony either, Spike! Does that make you a monster?” Nopony had the right to call him that. “Because of my spell, he lost everything that makes him unique. He needs his magic and I . . . and I . . .” she looked down at the floor. Why had she reacted so dramatically to a harmless prank? If she had just played along, Discord would never have been hurt.  If she would have just trusted him enough . . . “I took his magic away. He . . . he didn’t deserve that.” Spike’s eyes shone with regret as he reached out to her. “Sorry, I . . . I didn’t realize .  . .” Twilight shoved his claw away. “No, you didn’t!” I can’t deal with this right now. Her vision began to blur, stomach churning until she thought she might vomit. Discord had been right, but what could she do? Without another word, she left the kitchen, stumbling down the hallway. I need to talk to him . . . Discord lay on his bed, trying to drown out the echo’s of Spike’s earlier rant with research. Books never had been a favorite pastime of his, but given the alternatives, they won out. The less he thought about the piercing pain in his back and his inability to use any magic, the better. A knock at the door followed by Twilight’s soft voice made him twitch. So she came to me. Well . . . can’t avoid it now, can I? “Come in.” Twilight stepped inside with all the air of a doe entering an open meadow. Her eyes fell to the pile of books on his bed. “Got some light reading I see.” The playful tone of voice might have reassured him if her eyes were not so full of worry. He gave a weak chuckle to make her gilded smile. “Yes, I suppose.” Shuffling over, he motioned Twilight to come over and join him. When she did, he continued, “Did you get him to calm down?” Her eyes widened, “I—I . . . how did you know?” “I overheard . . .” All attempts at a cheery demeanor vanished as she stared at his mismatched limbs. “You’re not a monster, Discord. He’s wrong . . . nopony has the right to call you that.” His heart leapt at the defense. Though, he had to admit, there were days the word rang true. “I’m the Spirit of Chaos . . . a patchwork quilt of animals with errant magic to match. By most everypony’s definition, I qualify as a monster, Twilight.” “Then their definition needs revision!” she snapped, swishing her tail. “I . . . but—” “But what?” A kind of fire flickered in her eyes, one he had never seen before. “So what if your a ‘patchwork quilt,’ huh? You were born that way, you can’t help it!” Discord felt himself starting to panic as the tears streamed down her face. “Twilight, it’s alright. I am used to it . . . Please do not cry on my account.” “Why should you have to be ashamed of who you are? Why should everypony treat you like a disease?” She shook violently, pressing her side to his. “You were right . . . they don’t listen.” “Yes, but I also said to let it go.” She sniffed, wiping away the tears. “I know . . . I know. It’s just so frustrating.” Her attention fell to the books once more. “Find anything out yet?” “No-no . . .” he lowered his head onto the blanket. Her hoof stroked his mane gently. “It’ll be okay . . . give it time, we’ll find a solution.” But I don’t have time . . . Even now he could sense his organs slowly shutting down. If they did not find a solution within the next few days, it would all be over. “Twilight. I must tell you something.” She looked taken-aback, but nodded slowly. “Okay.” “I . . .This spell . . .” Urgh, spit it out! He raised his head, looking her straight in the eye. “Twilight, I’m dying.” “What?”