• Published 25th Jul 2015
  • 5,031 Views, 94 Comments

Violated - luaithre



A draconequus and an alicorn sitting in a tree, discussing the repercussions that the return of a long-lost friend has on them.

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Author's Note:

Written in about an hour, so I'd be grateful for any comments regarding stray punctuation, missing words, and the like. The idea popped into my head this morning and I got the basic story down quickly, and then did some editing until I was satisfied with the result (wrote this as an exercise in trying to get back into the swing of things, as well as shaking off some of the dust that has collected on my brain since I last wrote something for this site).

Discord sat in the tall tree overlooking Fluttershy's cottage, ignoring the painful splinters jabbing into his back from where the bark was tearing; he could, of course, choose not to feel the discomfort if he so wished, but right now he wanted – no, needed – the reminder. Most of the birds who made these branches their home were slumbering and he was careful not to startle them into wakefulness with any sudden moves or loud noises.

Oh, who did he think he was kidding? He didn't want to alert Fluttershy to his presence. It was … too soon. He looked up at the brilliant canopy of stars above him just in time to catch the first drops of rain on his face. Discord closed his eyes, wishing that the droplets could wash away the mental dirt as easily as the physical grime clinging to his coat.

Plumes of white smoke billowed into the night sky from the cottage's chimney; the draconequus pictured Fluttershy fooling around in front of the fireplace with that annoying bunny of hers, catering to his every frivolous whim rather than roasting him up as a chunky rabbit stew like he so richly deserved. Discord clutched his stomach as the loud rumbling of his innards reminded him of the fact that he hadn't eaten in quite some time.

Another reminder of how he'd been domesticated by the ponies.

Millennia ago, he had been an all-powerful god with no use for trivialities like pain, hunger and … other things. Things that the lowly beings he'd found himself affiliated with treasured, such as love, respect and compassion. Ugh.

“You should go and talk to her,” said Twilight Sparkle, the only sound breaking the stillness was the soft swishing of her wings as she hovered nearby. “She'd probably appreciate your company more than anypony else's at the moment.”

“Maybe,” replied Discord, trying not to show just how startled he was by the alicorn princess' sudden arrival. Either she'd mastered the art of silent teleportation, or he'd been even more lost in his thoughts than he'd imagined. “I'm not so sure, though. It's all-” his talon wavered in the air for a moment as he searched for the right words in the stars of Luna's night “-terribly complicated.”

“You can't avoid her forever. She's going to need all of us if she's to recover from … from what happened.” Twilight landed on a branch opposite Discord, tucking her wings by her side. “I dare say that you could use some therapy yourself. Celestia knows, we all do.”

“What makes you think that I'm the slightest bit bothered by what happened?” Even a couple of years ago, he might've been able to pull off the Draconequus of Mystery act, but Twilight Sparkle knew him much too well now to be fooled by the casual disdain his words evinced.

The Princess of Friendship raised her left hoof in the air, then used her right hoof to pretend that she was ticking things off of an imaginary checklist. “You sit here night after night watching her house. You refuse to speak to anypony about what went on. You don't eat. You don't, you know, cause chaos. When was the last time you did something just for the fun of it?”

It had been a while, Discord had to admit that. Probably not since before Fluttershy had been returned to them. “Have you spoken to her about … you know?” Discord asked, finding it difficult to go into specifics.

“Yes, a little,” Twilight said softly, her breath forming a vapour in the chilly air, sounding unhappy. “She was reluctant to divulge too many details, but she swears that they didn't harm her. At least, not physically. I'm inclined to believe her on that, though whatever else they did is clearly taking its toll on her emotions.”

“So. We should leave her be is what you're saying?” asked Discord, disgusted by the note of hope creeping into his voice. “Give her time to work things out on her own?”

“No, I'm saying exactly the opposite is what we – you – should be doing.” Twilight realised that her voice was becoming strained and she fought for calm, employing Princess Cadance's breathing technique to quieten her raging emotions. “After almost a year of isolation, she needs to be resocialised with ponies. Gradually, yes, but I do think that you're the best candidate for the job because of … because of your relationship with Fluttershy.”

“It's exactly because of my relationship-” Discord made sarcastic-looking air quotes at that “-with her that I can't go in there. How can I face her after what happened? After what I did?”

“All of us were fooled. All of us feel … violated.” Twilight realised as soon as she'd said the word that it was in poor taste and she desperately wished that there was a convenient spell to erase the last few moments of time. “I'm sorry, that was ...”

“No, you're right as always, Princess.” Discord laughed a low, harsh bray, unable to find it in himself to be angry with Twilight. Her phrasing had been inelegant, but it was oh, so accurate. “The Changelings screwed us – me – over quite royally, didn't they? None of us noticed, not me, not you, not her fillyhood friend Rainbow Dash, that we'd been hanging around with an impostor for nearly a whole year!”

“There was no way to know,” Twilight replied protestingly, though the guilt gnawed at her stomach. It did for all of them. Pinkie Pie had taken it especially harshly, as she prided herself on knowing everything about everypony and being so attuned to their anima that she was usually the first to spot when there was a problem with them. “Changelings are near-impossible to detect, even to the most powerful of mages. They had her plugged into their Hive Mind so they knew everything that she did. Everything about us. We're just lucky that the connection slipped when it did or … or we'd never have gotten our friend back.” She did not want to think about the particulars of what being in the Changeling Hive Mind for a year might've done to Fluttershy's sanity.

She didn't want to think about what a year in their custody might've done to her soul.

“I should have known.” Discord's voice was barely above a whisper. Racked with bitter condemnation at himself for not being able to tell the difference between his best friend and a damned bug.

“How?” asked Twilight quietly. “How are you any different to the rest of us? We were with her – it – practically every day.”

“Were any of you sleeping with her?” asked Discord bluntly.

“Well, no.” Despite her foreknowledge that this subject was going to come up eventually, Twilight reddened slightly at the draconequus' naked candour. The physical aspect of Discord and Fluttershy's relationship had been a relatively recent occurrence, and now he was faced with the probability that it was all just an illusion to further an enemy's aims. The Changelings, it seemed, had been after Discord's love for some time as it was rumoured to be an even more potent food-source than that of the royal family. Through Fluttershy, they had finally succeeded at their goal. “But ...” she trailed off, not really knowing what to say.

Silence reigned. Rain fell. Neither of them noticed.

“For a year, I was in bed most nights with that creature and I didn't know.” Unbidden tears began to roll down Discord's face. He had never cried before, not properly, only knowing what the trickle of salt water represented because he'd seen how they had affected Fluttershy so many times. “Tell me, Twilight, Princess of Friendship, how do I go in there and tell her that?”

“She'll understand,” replied Twilight. “It's a situation that nopony could've predicted happening. You have nothing to feel ashamed about.”

“And yet, I do,” said Discord quietly, his neck sagging. “Intellectually, I know that I'm supposed to be angry at the Changeling that masqueraded as her. Emotionally …” He chuckled without humour at the concept of having an emotional range beyond gleeful indulgence. “Emotionally, I hate myself. I feel like I've betrayed her somehow.”

“Excuse me?” A timid, yet somehow also authoritative voice, cut in to their conversation. “I'm terribly sorry to barge in on you like this, but some of my animals are trying to sleep. Would you mind keeping it down?”

“Sorry, Fluttershy,” said Twilight, as taken aback by the pegasus' sudden appearance as Discord had been earlier at hers. “Are you …?”

“I'm fine,” she said, too quickly.

A moment passed where Fluttershy and Discord just looked at each other until he finally mumbled something.

“What was that, Discord?” the pegasus asked sternly, putting on a tone of mock huffiness.

“I said, Sorry, Fluttershy,” he repeated, a bit louder this time.

“Twilight, it's very late,” Fluttershy said, turning to face her friend. “Perhaps you should go home and rest? We'll have a lot to talk about in the morning.” She gave the alicorn a meaningful look.

“Of course,” Twilight replied with a slight incline of her head. Normally, she would've embraced the pegasus before leaving, but she got the feeling that it was much too soon for that. In a burst of purple light, she was gone.

“You and I, on the other hoof,” said the pegasus, noticing that Discord was just about to make his own departure, “have a lot of talking to do right now. Now come inside.” While the words were issued in a commanding manner, the draconequus understood that she was making him an offer. One that he was perfectly free to refuse … if he wished. He looked at the eager foreleg she was extending toward him.

Discord took it in his talon, gripping it hard and savouring the warmth of her flesh. He was about to say something, but instead settled for merely smiling softly at the pegasus and following her inside the quiet cottage.

Wounds on the surface faded with time, often leaving scars in the process; wounds of the heart were slower to heal, and the scars ached for ages afterwards. The pain was made infinitely more bearable by having somepony to share it with.