“What?” In a fraction of a second, she had lept to her hooves.
The terror and fear held within Twilight’s eyes clasped around his heart like cold iron bars. Of all the damned, foolish statements possible, he chose the one certain to spiral the mare into a state of panic. “Twilight, please . . . don’t—don’t freak out. Stay calm and—”
“Stay calm? Stay calm? How do you expect me to ‘stay calm’ with you dumping that on me!” She huffed, sending clouds of vapor drifting in the still morning air. “Discord? What . . . how,” her eyes darted all over his body as if confirming it was still there, “how are you dying? What’s going on? Explain!”
Discord took a collected breath, though he kept a wary eye on the now-quivering mare before him. “Okay. I will just—just sit down and . . . I will explain everything.” He prayed his words came off as diplomatic as they sounded in his head.
Apparently they did. After a few tense seconds, Twilight relented with a small sigh. “Alright . . .” She sat back down beside him on the bed, still breathing heavily through her nostrils. The intense determination in her unwavering gaze reiterated the necessity of treading lightly. As if he needed a reminder about that.
More out of consideration than sentiment, he shot her a small smile. Rather than returning it, she sat even stiffer if that were possible, continuing to regard him with the air of a wronged co-worker. Guess I’m not getting off the hook this time . . .
Discord drew out a long breath, watching his own breath hang in the air for a moment. Just like Twilight’s . . . Strange that a spirit should produce the same effect as a creature born of the earth. Spirit. Aye, perhaps that would be the place to start.
“Look, Twilight. I’m . . . I’m a spirit.” And a hopeless fool, but you already knew that, didn’t you? “A spirit’s life functions on magic. With that I don’t mean that we merely need to hold magic. No . . . our magic is inextricably linked to our very body and soul.” Twilight had turned to stare intently at the quilt, eyes glazed over with thought.
Aaaaand, I lost you. Undoubtedly, Twilight was currently calculating the possibilities from a scientific and mathematical perspective. Better to cut her off before being subjugated to yet another barrage of questions. “The details do not matter.” Well, not at present. “What matters is that this magic is an integral part of who I am. Without it I cannot live.” There he had said it yet again.
Though her mouth hung slightly open, Twilight did not speak. He had her attention. But what could he say? Could there be any explanation that would satisfy her?
“The magic keeps me alive. It’s . . . difficult to explain . . .” Yes, yes it is. Discord hardly understood it all himself. “The longer a spirit is separated from magic, the weaker a spirit becomes. It is like a pony being deprived of water. Though painful and difficult you would manage for a time. The body finds ways of compensating for the loss. But, invariably, that time comes to an end and . . . and . . .”
Discord gulped, feeling the words catch in his throat. “After your resources and alternatives are depleted, your body begins shuts down.” He looked hard at the smooth floor, trying not to imagine Twilight’s eyes boring into the back of his neck. “Little by little . . . organ by organ . . . until nothing remains but that which is essential to life. Then . . . then you die. It is the same for me without magic.”
For a long time, he could not raise his head. When he finally managed to turn back, she had started crying. No, not again. Before he could stop himself, he had gripped her in a gentle hug which she quickly returned. “I’m so sorry, Twilight.”
He stroked her mane silently, listening to her breaths steady against his chest. “I should have told you sooner, but . . .”
Her gentle voice eased the tension that had filled the room ever since his announcement. “I know, I know . . . Thank you for telling me.” She pushed him away, wiping the remaining tears from her cheeks.
Try as he may to shake it loose, the guilt continued to gnaw away. Why had he kept the truth from her so long? She deserved to know and his stubborn refusal to talk had already cost them valuable time. “Don’t worry, Twilight. We’ll find a solution in time. I just wanted to let you know.”
He smiled encouragingly back at her. “As long as we work together . . . as a team, then we can do it.”
The smallest of smiles crept across her face and, before he could react, she had given him a quick, tight hug. “Yup!”
The sudden addition of pressure on the wound made him gasp from pain.
“Oh my gosh, Discord! I’m sorry, I—”
Discord interrupted her with a low chuckle. “It’s okay, Twilight. We just need to be a bit more careful.”
Twilight giggled, stretching out to lie down on the bed. Discord followed suit, eyeing her cautiously. Sure enough, a determined glint had taken hold in her eyes, complete with the occasional twitch of the tail. Already thinking of solutions, huh?
Discord let her process for a while, occasionally smoothing the hairs on Twilight’s back. For a pony, she really did take excellent care of her appearance. As the minutes wore on, his mind wandered back to how they had arrived at this discussion in the first place. Spike . . .
His smile fell as Spike’s words returned to him. Shaking them away, he turned back to Twilight. Knots formed in his stomach at the thought of her arguing with Spike. All because of him. Why? He never asked for that. “Twilight?”
“Yes?”
“I . . . I don’t want to be the reason you two are fighting. I-I,” he bit his lip, searching for the right words, “I couldn’t bear the thought of breaking you two apart.” Discord felt the confidence behind his voice shatter. Fighting back another wave of nausea, he continued as steadily as he could, “Could you two talk about it again? Seriously? Without jumping to conclusions, you know? Maybe you can explain what’s going on . . .”
Twi placed her hooves on his hands, locking gazes with him. “It’s not your fault, Discord. We were bound to argue at some point. Better to get over it now than later. And of course I’ll talk to him again. Nothing can break Spike and me apart. We’re a team after all.”
Discord felt a wave of relief at her words. “Thanks,” he breathed.
“Sure. I guess I should go and talk with him after he cools down. He needs some time to sort through it for himself first.” She got stiffly to her hooves. After taking a few steps, she whirled around to face him again. “How about I make something for you to eat? You missed breakfast after all.”
He could only nod, lowering his head back onto the covers. Though he really wanted to join Twilight, this morning’s incident and the nagging pain in his back made him reconsider. Maybe we all just need to ‘cool down’ . . .
Twilight leaned against the smooth wall of the hallway, allowing the perpetually chilled surface to ease the panic threatening to overwhelm her senses. Even if it had all been an accident, the undeniable truth of the matter left her numb all over. If they did not find a solution soon, Discord would die.
Shaking her head, she started down the hallway at a brisk trot. “Focus, Twilight. Focus.” Though she wanted to drag Discord to help research, he obviously had not been feeling up to it when she had dropped off the pancakes. Struggling with a fast-failing body understandably sapped his energy. However, that left her responsible for his fate. Or did it?
She slid to a halt just outside the library. “I’m such an idiot!” Without a second’s hesitation, she darted into the chamber to find the necessary supplies. Scrawling a hasty note, she sealed it and scampered back down the hallway. If anypony in all of Equestria would understand the solution, it would be her.
It took only a few minutes to arrive at Spike’s door. She hammered loudly until it opened a crack. Spike glowered up at her, “What do you want?”
“I . . . need . . . you to deliver . . . this,” she panted, levitating the scroll into his hand. “It’s important it gets to Celestia as soon as possible.”
Spike rolled his eyes, “Sure, whatever.”
“Thanks.” Just as Spike made to shut the door, she jammed her hoof in the crack. “Could we talk later?”
“Later,” he reiterated coldly.
“Er . . . o-okay.” She removed her hoof and flinched as the door slammed shut in her face. “Well then . . .”
Turning back, she made her way back to the library. Though they needed to talk, Twilight knew enough to leave him for the moment. Let him relax while she finished up some more research. Then, after a few hours, she would try again.
Hours sifting through a veritable mountain of “light” spellbooks and she had come no closer to identifying the solution. Twilight yawned, scrawling down yet another note into the journal. Happening to glance out the window for the first time since she started, she froze. Sunset already?
Her gut sunk. So much of their precious time wasted and for what? To know yet another list of what would not work? Even her patience grew thin at the thought. She shot to her hooves. Better have a quick chat with Spike and relate what she had discovered to Discord. Perhaps he might be able to draw some useful conclusions from the information.
Limbs still a little numb from lying down for so long, she made her way stiffly towards Spike’s room. Upon arrival, she hesitated for the briefest of moments. She had not exactly thought over what to say to Spike. Then again, perhaps that was for the best.
She knocked two times, taking a step back. A few seconds later, Spike opened the door, peering around it with an unreadable expression. “Yeah?”
“Hey, Spike. Ready for that talk?”
Spike looked at her as if unsure how best to proceed. “Er . . . okay.” He stepped aside and Twilight entered. After closing the door, Spike sat down at the edge of his bed, focusing on his feet.
“Look Spike . . . “ Twilight took a position in front of him on the carpet. “I never wanted this to end in a fight. And I’m sure you didn't either.”
His eyes went up to meet hers, but head still held low.
“I think we both had a lot of misunderstandings, and I wanted to talk them out with you. Calm . . . without either of us jumping to conclusions. Alright?” She shot him an encouraging smile.
He then raised his head and smiled a bit himself. “Alright. And of course I didn’t want to fight . . .”
“Good.” She stood up and gave him a hug, which he returned. Hopping onto the bed beside him, she continued, “How about I tell you everything? No lies and no secrets. Then I think you’ll understand. I’d appreciate it if you sit there and listen to me without interrupting, okay?”
Spike looked up from his claws to look her in the eyes once more and nodded slowly. “Yeah . . . alright then,” he breathed softly.
Twilight took the ensuing silence as a sign to start. If only it were that simple. “I guess I should start with what happened back in the library. You need to understand that Discord never intended to hurt me.”
He scoffed, but made no further comment on the matter.
“He wanted to cast the spell I created on me as a little prank. I know how you think about his pranks, but . . . nothing serious would have happened if it went the way he planned it. It wouldn’t have been a problem for the Spirit of Chaos to undo a spell like that.”
“But,” she took in a long, deep breath, “I went ahead and blocked it. Because frankly, I don’t like his little ‘pranks’ either.”
He made to reply, but bit his tongue.
Twilight ignored him as best she could. If she did not tell the whole story now, she might never get another chance. “After that I-I don’t really know what happened myself. The defense spell reacted badly to the one Discord cast and the backlash threw Discord hard against the bookshelf.”
“That not only physically injured him, but the counter-spell somehow sapped his magic completely.” She looked down, trying to staunch the familiar lingering guilt before it reared up again. “Neither of us knows why. And, Spike . . . he’s not faking it! I know it’s not just my fault, but I feel guilty. And why shouldn’t I? Not only did I hurt him really bad, but I took away the one thing that makes Discord himself!”
It took a moment to order her thoughts. “Discord and I spoke yesterday . . . I—he told me a lot. About how he feels and that he’s not the one who’s been doing things wrong, Spike. It’s us!”
His eyes widened as he looked into her own. “You can’t be serious,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “We’ve been the ones trying. He just goofs off.”
“Please let me explain,” she pleaded softly. “He’s really, really been trying, Spike. He tries so hard to show us he can be a good friend.”
“Hardly. You’ve seen what he does to his ‘friends.’”
“Yes, and I thought the same as you did, but now . . . now I understand.” Could she do justice to Discord’s explanation? She would try. “Discord is very, very old, Spike. Imagine how it feels living that entire time cherishing only one thing. For Discord, that’s chaos. Now imagine what it would be like to simply give all of that up for friends he’s only known for a fraction of a second in his time frame.”
“Oh . . .” Spike looked away, face growing slightly red. “Guess that’d be kinda hard.”
“Exactly! So how can we expect him to be perfect at friendship right from the start? It would be like us trying to be as evil as King Sombra overnight. We . . . we couldn’t, Spike.” Nopony could . . .
“Why are we always getting angry at him for making mistakes? Do you remember how many mistakes the girls and I made starting out? A lot more—and a lot worse than Discord’s! How would you feel in Discord’s position, huh?” She glanced over at Spike, noting the sympathy in his eyes. Maybe her words were finally sinking in.
One last push. “That’s not everything, Spike. He’s struggling and then we come along and make it even worse for him. Nopony but Fluttershy even gave him a chance. None of us thought about his feelings after he reformed. Maybe that’s why he sided with Tirek. Because he didn’t feel like he belonged with us . . . like he was nothing but an outcast.”
She forced back the tears. Not again. “We keep treating him like a monster, but he’s not. He’s really not . . . He doesn’t even think we care about him, Spike! And the worst bit is that . . . that it’s true. We didn’t care and most of us still don’t. It’s time we change that.” Her words were confident at the end, but that confidence slowly ebbed as she recalled Discord’s words.
“He told me how the ponies here react to him. They don’t know him—not personally anyway, and yet they despise him for what he’s done. For actions he can’t erase . . . And every time he was around or came by for something we were either annoyed or angry. Because we can’t accept him the way he is. And that from his so called friends,” she finished weakly.
Spike fidgeted with his fingers, frowning deeply.
“He heard our fight this morning too . . .” Twilight gave him a gentle noogie. “But . . . You know what happened last night?”
He shook his head slowly.
“After everything he told me . . . he forgave me, Spike.”
Spike lifted his head, mouth hanging open.
“Seriously. He wanted to start over from the beginning. Just like . . . just like that.” She felt a large smile to stretch across her face at the memory. “I’m going to make sure that I’ll do it right this time.”
She placed a hoof over one of his claws. “That’s why I want him to stay here, Spike. To rewrite what has been done.”
Twilight’s words lingered, growing in potency until they hung as oppressive as the humidity in the chamber. What did he say? I’m sorry? But, what point was there in apologizing to Twilight when Discord had been wronged?
He looked into her eyes, knowing full well that she did not harbor any resentment towards him. Only concern. Celestia . . . what do I do now? Then the answer came to him. Maybe I’m the one that needs to start over.
He stumbled towards the door. “Sorry, Twi, but there’s something I have to do.”
She walked over to join him. “Sure, Spike. Find me in the library when you’re done. I need to talk to him too.”
Jerking a nod, he walked little more confidently towards Discord’s room. As he made his way down the winding halls, he tried to come up with something intelligent to say. “Discord, I’m sor-sorry about what I said. I didn’t mean it.” No . . . I did mean it . . . “Discord, I . . . I was horrible. I never should have said something like that.” Yeah, that’s better. “You’re not a monster. If anything, I’m the monster.”
He paused outside of Discord’s door, suddenly feeling a lot less confident than before. Come on, Spike. He doesn’t bite! Just tell it like it is. Wiping his hands, he knocked cautiously on the door. When no answer came, he opened it slowly, stepping inside. “Discord I need to talk to—”
Spike stopped cold upon meeting Discord’s gaze. His elongated mouth was contorted into a ferocious snarl that made his skin crawl. “So-sorry! I didn’t mean to barge in.” It took a few seconds staring before he noticed Discord’s had not even looked his way. Rather, his attention focused solely on the unbound wound on his back.
His heart sunk when Discord fell on his side, groaning and clutching at the weeping sore. Spike ran over to him, locking eyes with the draconequus. To his horror, Discord looked close to panic. “Discord? What happened? What’s wrong?”
Discord raised his head towards his back, eyes awash with agony. Then, before he could speak, allowed it to fall weakly onto the covers once more.
Spike crawled up on the bed beside him, examining the wound. Nothing about it looked normal. The red, seeping gash had matted the hairs with puss and blood. Leaning in a little closer, he crinkled his nose. Smells awful! As carefully as he could, he pressed a hand to its surface. Way too warm.
Discord gave a frightening snarl then blew heavily through his nostrils. He struggled to raise his head, but did not seem capable of lifting it again. Spike’s heart ached as he looked over the cut once more. Twilight’s right! He wasn’t faking it. This is serious! His entire body began to quiver as he took in the implications. He needs help, now!
Spike slid off the bed, Discord’s eyes following him. The fear and concern flickering in them made him shake all the worse. “What’s-what’s wrong?”
If I tell him, he’ll panic. This is a job for Twi. He patted Discord’s forehead, retracting his hand quickly. Celestia, he’s got a fever too! Thinking as quickly as he could given the circumstances, Spike grabbed a rag, dipping it in the pitcher of water on the endtable. Returning to Discord, he placed it over the draconequus’ eyes. “You’ll . . . you’ll be fine. The cut’s a little infected, that’s all.”
“Infected?”
Spike fought to keep his voice steady. “Yea-yeah.” He stroked Discord’s mane gently, then turned away. “I’m going to get Twi to look at it. She’s really good at this sort of stuff.” He rushed to the door, pausing to call back, “Stay there and don’t move!”
He could just make out Discord’s weak reply. “Couldn’t if I wanted to . . .”
With that, Spike sprinted full out down the hallway. I need to hurry . . .
Twilight stood in the center of the library, glowering at the notes strewn across the floor. The latest set of spells had done nothing but leave scorch marks on the otherwise pristine crystal. Come on, Twilight! You’ve got to get it right. There’s no more time for these stupid mistakes . . .
The loud slapping of feet against the floor caused her to look up just in time to see Spike sliding to a halt a few inches from her. Even with the glare from the setting sun obscuring his features, she could tell something was wrong. “Twilight! Go to Discord! Right now!”
Her heart stopped cold. Discord? Don’t tell me . . . She charged over to him, limbs feeling incredibly weak now. “What happened to him?”
Spike looked taken aback by her reaction, but recovered himself. “Er . . . he’s—his cut’s really infected. You need to take a look!”
She breathed a long sigh of relief. “Thank Celestia.”
He gaped at her, shaking his arms in a series of wild gesticulations. “What?! How’s that a good thing, Twi?”
Oh. Of course her comment would sound odd. He did not know the real danger after all. “Sorry, Spike, I was just afraid it was another side-effect of the spell.”
“Oh, that makes sense I guess. Sill,” his voice grew firmer and more urgent, “You need to check out Discord. He’s really sick and . . . and . . . err, Just come!”
Sick? What now? Heart racing, she galloped into the hallway without another word to Spike. As she made her way, her mind kept flashing back to Discord’s reluctance to show her the wound. Had it been worse than she thought? Oh, Celestia, I hope not.
She made it to the chamber, sliding inside and almost taking out a dresser upon entry. “Discord?”
His eyes looked her direction, though he did not raise his head. He gave her a feeble smile, “That was fast.”
Twilight felt the fear creep in. For the first time since his injury, he was doing nothing to hide his pain. Even from this distance, she could see him quivering like a leaf and the angry sore covering a large portion of his back. Why? Why had she not seen it before?
She cantered over to him, turning him over to get a better look at the wound. He grumbled a complaint, but otherwise remained silent. Her eyes darted over the surface of the wound, trying to take in the extent of his injuries. All the panic from that morning resurfaced full force. The wound was not just infected, it was septic. If she did not act now, it would take him before the loss of magic would. “Discord! Why didn’t you tell me it was so bad?”
Discord made to raise his head, but it fell after rising a few inches or so. “I didn’t know it was bad,” he practically whined.
Twilight’s breaths came out short and fast as she tried to fight the panic seeping into every fiber of her being. “Okay . . . okay. We’ll just—just bandage it up.”
She leaned in a little closer, eying the extent of the damage. Oh no. Her hooves shook as she cast a spell on it. Rather than seeping in, the spell rebounded against the wall, shattering the water pitcher. What the? This isn’t good!
Discord looked at her from the corner of his eye. “You can fix it, can’t you?” he asked shakily.
“I—I don’t know.” She ran a hoof gently along the surface, feeling the heat radiating off of it.
Discord gasped in pain, digging at the blanket with his paw.
What do I do? What do I do? “It’s okay, Discord. I—it’ll be alright.” Even to her the words sounded weak and half-hearted. How could it be alright now?
Discord shook his head slowly. No, it’s not . . . it’s not alright.” He began to cry softly. “I’m sorry.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I shouldn’t have tried to cast that spell on you. I should have been a better friend, I—”
“It’s okay . . . We all make mistakes, I forgive you.”
Discord looked away, then spoke in a barely audible whisper, “Don’t feel guilty . . .”
“About what?”
He bit back some more tears. “About this whole mess and what’s going to happen.”
Twilight stroked his neck, leg quivering as she did so. “No. You don’t get to talk like that, Discord! Not an option.”
He closed his eyes as she checked his temperature. He’s burning up!
Spike arrived in the doorway, panting. “Twi, what’s—”
“When is Celestia coming?” Surely she would have received the letter by now. Why did she wait?
“I . . .” Spike gulped, looking away. “I didn’t send it,” he murmured.
“What?!” Her heart pounded louder than ever. “I told you it was important!”
He flinched. “Sorry I—I was being stupid.”
Discord groaned, quivering violently now. Time had run out.
Twilight rounded on Spike. “Send the letter! Now!”