That Will Be Enough

by Bluegrass Brooke


For Now . . .

Hearts and Hooves Day. What a notion! To think that ponies, being among the most harmonious and outwardly affectionate of the species, needed a day set aside just to glorify those relationships which had progressed to the romantic. Discord had never celebrated such frivolity nor did the griffons nor the dragons. And yet, every year at the same time, ponies insisted upon wasting time, energy, and resources on what amounted to shameless fanfaire. As if they could not express romantic affections any other day of the year!

Father would have been mortified at such a concept, Discord was certain. As for himself, he chose to steer clear of it. Avoid the day, avoid the contact, avoid the mess—a sound philosophy if ever he heard one.

Despite his tactic of avoidance, a letter arrived that morning which made him question its sensibility. Though he could not place the exact phrasing, Twilight’s letter had been uncharacteristically clingy. Not that he would complain; clingy beat abrasive any day of the week. Still, for her to be so insistent upon his presence . . .

He shook his head, reclining on the slab of stone that served as his bed. Draconequus, unlike ponies, did just fine with stone to sleep on. In fact, if he slept on anything softer, he found himself with a crick in his neck for days, making the sacred collar’s weight even less bearable than usual.

Once again, he ran his talon along her loopy magic-writing, a small grin escaping him despite the words. Under his tutelage, she had gone from near illegible chicken-scratch to what passed for calligraphy these days. However, the aesthetics did not erase the reality of her words. He read again, slower this time, trying to interpret between the lines as best he could.

Dear,’

Ever since they had started courting, she insisted upon just the “Dear” as if it were his rightful name. Discord chuckled a bit. Sweet girl, that one.

‘I know you said you’d be taking the day off from our lessons,’

“Yes, and I’m quite glad for it.” As much as he loved her, their chaos magic lessons never ceased to be exhausting on a fundamental level. Even with Twilight’s unsurpassed magical prowess, her handle of chaos magic was shaky at best. Her eagerness to prove her worth to the “master” himself however, made it all worthwhile. That and her smile. He felt one break across his face at the thought. Twilight. His Twilight; as excited to learn about chaos as a filly was to get her cutie mark.

He forced his attention back to the page.

 ‘but I was really hoping you might stop by today.’

“Dear, all you have to do is ask!” If she but said the word, he would fly to her side and remain forever. However, she continued to insist that, because they were not “married” in a pony sense, he should not—could not—live with her. Obstinate mare!

 ‘You see, Spike’s out for a class social’

Ah. There it is. Twilight wanted alone time with her “coltfriend.” Despite dating since last autumn, she continued to be shy about allowing themselves some couple time. Honestly, he would have popped over whenever, but she insisted that he “call ahead first.” Call ahead for what? At least there was a valid excuse today . . .

Class social. The thought of it amused him. Upon his and Twilight’s insistence, Spike had enrolled himself in the local school system in order to “catch up” on his social education. After all, Spike—unlike him—had always been a part of the ponies’ world. However, unlike Discord’s early years, his education thus far had always been under and with those much older than himself. In essence, he had missed the camaraderie that stemmed from interactions amongst his peers.

Discord chuckled. A social, hmmm? Wonder if that’s formal . . . A mental image of Spike in a tuxedo floated to his mind and he guffawed. Priceless!

‘and I’ll be left alone all day. I’d spend time with the girls, but they’re all on dates or with family. You know, it’s Hearts and Hooves day. Or maybe you don’t. Do draconequus have Hearts and Hooves Day?’

“No, no we don’t,” he deadpanned.

‘Since you didn’t invite me out, I’m assuming you don’t. Not that I need you to invite me or anything! Since you don’t celebrate it, maybe next time there’s a draconequus holiday I can come along? We could set it up just like it’s supposed to be and everything!’

Discord snorted a laugh. “Just like it’s supposed to be? My dear, you’d need at least ten barrels of oil and two stags for the ‘official’ touch.” Maybe he could convince her to bring a rabbit at least . . . He cleared the thought away, imagining Fluttershy’s face if Twilight told her that he had sacrificed a rabbit to the gods. Needless to say, he wouldn’t be on her nice list for a while.

 ‘There’s still so much I don’t know about you or your culture. Like, what kind of holidays do draconequus have? What’s your courtship like? I feel like I’m constantly pushing ours on you. If I make you uncomfortable, let me know.’

The sensation of a blood-drenched female draconequus’ teeth sinking into his shoulder returned full-force. Pony courtship uncomfortable? She obviously hadn’t tried to gain the affections of a half-wild, dumb beast for the “good of the race.” He might have been a lap-dog courting a wolf for all the good it did.  Now that was uncomfortable not to mention unsuccessful! He glanced down at the paper once more.

‘So, yeah . . . I’d really like to just hang out with you today. That is, if you don’t have other plans! I know it’s silly, but it’s just so weird spending the holiday alone. Not that it isn’t lonely every whenever you’re away, but still.

Love,

— Twilight’

Discord scoffed. The words were pandering, manipulative, and yet, he could not help but feel incredibly guilty. All this time he had considered the holiday to be meaningless when he should have considered its meaning for Twilight. She was the closest thing he would ever have to a mate in this life. Father would have referred to it as his “duty” to see to her happiness. This certainly counted as a failure of duty.

He got to his feet. Despite his desire to remain aloof, he would visit her—but only because it was the “right thing to do,” and because he could not bear to see Twilight put out on his account. Nothing more, nothing less.


Nervous. Why am I so damned nervous? For the first time in months, Discord felt entirely out of his element though he stood at the library’s back door. Hearts and Hooves day had caused this. Yes, that’s what it was. That and the other factor . . .

He grimaced, shifting his weight to alleviate the pain in his false form. The spell granting him the form of a pony sapped his energy, but he would not complain. Not today. Today was a pony holiday, not a draconequus festival. He would spend it as a pony if only to bring a smile to Twilight’s face.

She never admitted it to him upfront, but she preferred his guise of a tall, grey-maned, bay stallion to the long, patchwork quilt of his natural form. He saw it in her eyes on occasion. The slight widening whenever his dragon tail brushed her silken one, or his horns scraped the bookshelves. Deep down she was what she was; a pony. She could never change her natural preferences.

That thought had torn at him since the very start. Back when he had masqueraded as a pony and won her affections. In those days he wondered, now he knew. Even if she held some physical attraction to his true form, it would never overcome the natural fear gripping her. Fear not at who he was, but what he was. Gods, how that reality stung!

Draconequus. Beasts created for the very purpose of being set apart from the other creations. Crafted by the hand of God himself just as the gods. They were always meant for a greater purpose. Arguably, so was Twilight. As an alicorn, she had a higher calling than any other members of her species.

Her denial of that truth never ceased to anger him. As long as he had been intimately acquainted with her, Twilight clung to the illusion that if she tried hard enough she would live a somewhat normal life. She had been chosen not by Celestia, but by the gods themselves. To deny that calling was an insult not only to those relying on her, but to the gods.

If two beings of such greater purpose grew closer than friends, where would be the harm? Beings of power were often drawn together. Why, even his father befriended a pony; and he, the High Priest! Their love was merely an extension on the same line of thought.

Even he could  not deny the magnetism that had developed between them as time passed. Magnetism born of mutual intellectual pursuits, a desire to prove themselves, and a longing for balance in the world. And, he supposed a little physical magnetism as well. She was a beautiful creature with charms all her own.

If by some benevolent act of the gods she turned into a draconequus, Discord knew he would not—could not—hold himself back. He would take her wherever they were and to hell with the consequences. But, she was a pony and he was . . . well, not. That at least saved him from any immediate regrets.

The sound of approaching hoofsteps on the back road spurred him to knock softly on the door to Golden Oaks and enter. The hallway was dark, not too surprising given how stingy Twilight could be with “library finances.” He strode across the worn floorboards to the circular centerpiece of the library. Sure enough, his mare was nestled in a veritable forest of books.

Her tail twitched in time to a song only she could hear as her eyes darted skillfully across the pages. Completely dead to the world.

Discord chuckled softly, though it came out as a rather low nicker.

She looked up, eyes widening first with surprise, then confusion. “Discord? What are you—why are you in that form?”

“Well,” he said around the mouthful of newly-apparated roses, “I thought since this was a pony holiday, I should experience it as a pony.  

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Spike’s ‘experiencing’ it as a pony without the whole,” she gestured to his entirety, “transformation thing.”

“Well, he’s not as talented as I am.”

“Dear, no one’s as ‘talented’ as you are.” She patted the cushions next to her, shuffling aside some of the books.

He joined her, biting the gasp of pain that always came from complex movement as a pony. Seeing her worry, he nuzzled her neck. “Relax. I’ll be fine for one day.”

“But, doesn’t it hurt?”

“I’ll forget about it with you by my side. Buuut, if you want me to change back, I—”

“No! I . . . I mean, it’s fine.” She looked away, flushing unusually vivid. “I like it.”

His muzzle met hers in a brief, yet satisfying kiss. “Thought as much,” he breathed.

“You did?”

“Please, you were practically begging for ‘normalcy’ in that letter. I can tell when my mate wants to play house.”

The flush deepened if that were possible. “Discord, we’re not . . . not ‘mates,’ okay?”

“There is and never will be another for me.” He leaned in closer until he could smell her honeyed breaths. “One mate per lifetime. That is my kind’s way. I have chosen you, I have pledged you my promise.” The promise to be given once and only once. A promise of complete and total commitment, more binding than any marriage contract. “You have returned that promise,” he reminded gently. Her words of commitment, sweeter than any of the finest wines and more melodious than any song. As long as he lived he would not forget it.

Twilight’s face grew red as she leaned away, glancing at the floorboards. “Ye-yes, but that’s not—that’s not the point!”

He pressed his side to hers, savoring the way she shuddered at the contact. “What is the point then?”

“Mates aren’t just ponies who’ve promised themselves to each other, Discord. They’re those that have . . . that have . . .”

“Consummated the promise?” Discord offered, heart sinking. The source of all her worry and he could do nothing to alleviate it. Inevitable and painful; that was the reality under which they lived. “Is that why you will not allow me to live with you?”

“Yes,” she squeaked. Twilight closed her eyes, breathing into his mane for a long, weighted moment. Then, softly, “It’s just, some days I . . . I wish for more, you know?”

“I-I know . . .” His heart ached to give her some words of comfort, some indication that it would work out, but nothing came. Only the guilt.

Twilight’s hoof brushed his cheek softly. “Sorry.”

“For what?”

“Bringing it up . . .”

“It had to be spoken. I should have . . . we should have discussed it earlier.” Before we made this mistake. “You know I love you and . . .” He gulped, finding it difficult to voice the conclusion he had come to weeks ago. Finally it came in a jumbled mess. “Twilight, if you wish for that kind of . . . companionship, seek it out. Just because my kind are monogamous does not mean you are required to adhere to our standards. If you wish for it, then do not hesitate.” The words stung worse than any strike from the Elements. And yet, they had to be spoken.

To his surprise, Twilight pinned her ears and actually bit his ear.

“Ouch! What was that for?”

“You-you, idiot! Why would I—I promised you! Do you think I’m so shallow to break that commitment?”

“No-no! You just said that you wanted—”

“With you, Discord! Only you,” she added in a small undertone. Her gaze fell to his flank. “If I can’t . . . with you, then I won’t with anypony else, understand?”

“I . . . I suppose.” He could not hide the smile now. Before he had thought about it too much, he pressed her to the ground. Her body tensed only for a moment before relaxing and leaning into him. Slowly, lovingly, he brought his muzzle to hers. With his pony muzzle, he could feel the soft contours of the velveteen surface. Twilight breathed a soft gasp then nickered softly, returning the kiss as gently as he had given it. Only a kiss. That would be enough; it had to be. He shuffled backwards, feeling his own face heat. “It’s fine like this. We will learn to do without. It will be painful, but we will learn.”

Twilight frowned, looking longingly at him. “Do we have to? Couldn’t we . . . while you’re in your pony form?”

“No.”

“But—”

“It would not be right! It is forbidden.” Discord knew that passage well enough. Perhaps Twilight did not. Reluctantly, he recited the familiar words, “‘Take care that you do not succumb to the desires of the flesh as those in Tirlan. They have bonded to mere livestock. And what of their fate? They reside in the mountains, torn from all sense . . . as dumb as the beasts they swore their lives to.’”

Twilight gulped, curling up beside him. For a long moment, she lay quivering beside him. “Your scriptures?”

Discord nodded, resting his head on her withers. “Aye . . .”

“You haven’t read any of them to me for a while.” It was not an accusation, rather a statement of fact.

“I did not think you were interested.”

“If it’s important to you, then it’s interesting to me . . .” She sighed, looking into his eyes. “‘Torn from all sense?’ Does that mean they ended up like . . . like the others?”

“I-I believe so. I never asked Father before . . . before it happened.”

“I see,” she breathed. Her voice trembled a little. “So I guess that means we won’t ever . . . you-you know.”

The words hurt. How he longed to deny it, to take her here and now, but he would not. His position aside, there could be no telling what physical damage he might cause.  “No . . . not unless I receive a vision to inform me otherwise. And those have been . . . rare to say the least.”

Twilight gave the smallest of nods, burrowing her muzzle into his coat. “Discord?” she murmured, barely audible now.

“Yes?”

“I’m glad.”

Glad for what? That they would never truly be bonded as one? That he had failed her as a friend and as a mate? “Twilight, there is nothing to be glad for . . .” His entire body tensed as she ran a hoof down his mane, settling on the heavy collar resting across his shoulders. The hundreds of runes illuminated with chaos magic as they always did when Twilight came into contact with the collar's cool surface. Slowly, she removed her hoof, watching the sparks of benign chaos magic dance in all directions.

After a long breath, she spoke softly, “You’ve found your calling Discord. I wouldn’t ask you to go against who you are. I’m just happy to have you by my side. Even if . . . even if there can never be more than that.”

Why? Why did she continually try to censor the truth from him? “Do not lie to me, Twilight! You disagree with my decision. I can see it in your eyes!”

“So what if I do?” she snapped. “I respect the decision regardless.”

“And will you be happy with it? Days from now? Years from now?”

“I—I don’t . . . don’t know.” She turned away, grimace clearly reflecting her true thoughts on the matter.

Discord sighed heavily, getting to four feet. “It is not good to deny the truth, Twilight. Your desires are natural. To suppress them would be . . . unwise. We need to discuss this and work it out together.”

She bit her lip. “I want to have sex with you.” The words seemed to have left her weaker, but she regained her earlier confidence quick enough. “There, I said it. So where do we go from here?”

Discord shook his head. “I . . . I do not know.”

“Well, for starters . . . .” He flinched as he felt Twilight place her front hooves across his back. “How does it work?”

“Huh?”

She rolled her eyes. Her sweet breath against his coat made his spine tingle. “How do you . . . how do draconequus mate anyway?”

Discord felt his heart skip a few beats. “I—we . . . uh . . . er, well I don’t really . . . don’t really know.” Just admitting that fact tore at him. He, a draconequus—the draconequus didn’t know how reproduction worked within his own species.

Twilight’s eyes went wide before filling with an understanding pity. “Oh . ..” Her hooves slid silently off his back, wrapping around his neck instead.

They stood there in silence, he fighting the stupid urge to cry while Twilight gave him her steady support. After what felt like ages, he managed a clumsy response, “I—I know some things! Like it’s really, really hard for draconequus to conceive.”

Twilight’s eyes went wide. “I wonder why that is . . .”

Discord instinctively covered his . . . assets with his tail. Being Twilight’s next experiment was not his idea of fun. “I guess it has something to do with the balance. Having too many draconequus would be . . . problematic to say the least.”

“What else, Discord?” Curiosity blazed in her eyes as she leaned forward.

“Er . . . well, we—that is male draconequus . . .” Why am I so damned embarrassed? Just spit it out! “We sort of have a-a . . . season.”

Male draconequus?” She actually giggled. “You’re serious? What? Is it like a heat cycle or—”

“No. It’s a lot . . . a lot worse. Very painful. We can’t use our magic and we sort of . . . lose our senses.” Discord tucked his tail down tighter to avoid her staring. “My theory is that it’s the only time when we are fertile. But,” he bit his lip, “all this happened after they passed, so I don’t know if this is normal for my species or if it’s just something that I have to deal with. I’m only guessing because Father occasionally took a week off when I was a child. He never gave an explanation though . . .”

“Oh.” There was that look again. It pained him to see her so distraught on his account.

“Twilight. It’s okay. I—”

“Has it happened since—since you’ve been released?”

The question caught him so off guard, that he had to think for at least half a minute before answering. “I . . . no . . .” Did that mean he was due for it? They came so randomly, sometimes years apart. “But that means nothing, Twilight. It’s rather . . . random. I honestly can’t predict them.”

“Guess I’m lucky that way . . .” Her eyes fell to his then retreated again. “So, what will we do when you get that way? Since you don’t want me to . . . to . . .”

“You’ll leave me the hell alone. It’s too dangerous.”

“But—”

“Twilight! You’re not a draconequus, alright? Look at me! At the very least, I’d hurt you, at worst, I’d eat you!”

She cringed, flushing violently. “Sor-sorry. I just thought . . . well, it was a stupid idea.”

“What?”

“Couldn’t you teach me the spell? Like you use to become a pony. If I’m a draconequus then—”

“Twilight! I told you, it’s not right.”

“Why? If you’re a pony and I’m a pony or vice versa, what’s the problem?”

“It’s not a true transformation!”

“It’s partially true! You said so yourself.”

This argument was going nowhere. And yet, a part of him was actually starting to believe her. “I—what if it does work? Hmmm? Then what?”

“Then our ‘problem’ is fixed!”

“No it’s not! If we did that then . . . then . . .” He gestured to his collar. “The gods would surely strike me dead.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “That passage you read mentioned draconequus binding to beasts. Well, in draconequus, isn’t the word ‘beast’ associated with animals lacking intelligence? Torn from all sense?” She pressed her side to his eagle leg. “Does that make me, a thinking, feeling, intelligent alicorn a beast?”

“I—you . . . you’re missing the point! It’s to prevent us from mating with other species.”

“Is it now? If the draconequus writing the scriptures had wanted to use a word to describe all non-draconequus then he would have used that word! Beasts is reserved to non-intelligent beings. You said so yourself!”

Discord felt his resolve wavering at her words. “Twilight! We can’t. I don’t . . . I don’t even know how to.”

Twilight gave him a quick hug around the neck. “Oh, I'm sure we can figure it out together.” She looked away, staring at her tail as if lost in thought. “Fine. I understand if you don’t want to now, but promise me you’ll at least consider it later?”

Discord nuzzled her gently on the cheek, savoring the familiar contact. “I will.”

Just then, the door swung open and Spike entered the library, swinging a heart-adorned paper bag like a baton. “Twilight I’m—” He stopped short, closing the door softly before addressing her again. “Ooops. Sorry. I didn’t know you were hanging out today. I can go if you need.”

“It’s fine, Spike.” Discord walked over to the child, giving him a gentle noogie. “Twilight and I were just talking. In fact I was getting ready to go—”

“—Get his things,” Twilight added in an uncharacteristically insistent tone.

“What?” he growled under his breath to Twilight.

She gave a small, playful grin. “We’re promised aren’t we? It’s high time you moved in,” she hissed into his ear.

Discord was certain his face had turned a violent shade of red. “I—I?”

“Your stuff?” Spike stepped closer, tugging on his leg now. “You doing more chaos experiments? Want my help?”

“We’re not doing any more experiments, Spike. Discord’s moving in.” Twilight stated it in a manner that left no room for argument.

“Really? You staying in the basement? Neat!”

“No. He’s moving into the guest room . . . with me.”

It was Spike’s turn to flush now. “Seriously?” Then, his shock turned to excitement. “Does that mean I get the loft to myself now?”

She smirked. “Mmmhmm.”

“Yes, yes, yes!”

Discord watched as Spike ran up the stairs, carrying the bag of sugary contraband with him. Once they were alone, he turned back to Twilight. “Are you sure about this?”

“Well, it seemed a logical step.”

Considering their earlier conversation, it was a touch . . . tame for her. “Are you satisfied with that, Dear?”

Twilight gave him the smallest of winks before walking towards the stairs. “Oh, it will be enough . . . for now.”