From My Dreams
merry Mom FaDs
The knock at his door wasn’t entirely unexpected, but still he ignored it.
“I don’t want company,” he muttered, turning his attention back to what he’d occupied himself with doing for the last day. He tossed the bowling ball up into the air, watching as it swelled until it was twice the size it had been. Then on its way down it shrank once more, size and mass vanishing until it was the size of a baseball.
Technically it was a gross waste of energy. His alterations didn’t have nearly the same effect in the little pocket dimension he’d called home, and regularly adjusting the weight, mass, and size of an object took more effort than most thought, even if all he was doing was tweaking the universe just so. And he didn’t have much energy to spare, either, after his outburst the previous day.
Still, he wasn’t into dangerously low levels yet. And if he got there, he could just go warp some more scenery out in the middle of nowhere. Leave boulders floating, that sort of thing. Then come back in a few days when reality had stabilized itself and undo it all, creating another trickle of energy.
If he felt like it. Which he probably wouldn’t. And the weirdest part was he wasn’t even sure why.
It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve been rejected, he thought. In fact, that pretty much sums up your whole existence up until now, doesn’t it?
He paused, barely remembering to shrink the bowling ball back down before it could flatten him. Except this time feels so much worse.
Because he’d tried. Really tried. Sure, he hadn’t expected things to go great, but at the same time, the way they’d ended …
About as well as the time Fluttershy went to the Grand Galloping Gala, he thought as he tossed the bowling ball upwards once more. And maybe there’s a bright spot to that. After all, she sometimes laughs about that when she looks back at it.
Somehow, he didn’t feel like he’d do the same anytime soon.
The knocking came again, and once more he ignored it. I don’t want to talk to anyone, he thought as he tossed the ball back and forth. Sometimes it bounced off of the ceiling. Other times it spun lazy loops around the rafters, or just hung there for a moment, floating. I just want to lay here for the time being and think about things.
He froze as the knocking came again, but from the other side of the house. Firstly, because though things shifted, they didn’t shift that much, and second, because it had been metal on metal. Which didn’t at all match with the decor of his front door.
He left the bowling ball hanging in the air for a moment and stretched his neck into the next room, taking a quick look.
Huh. Nothing, he thought as he peered around the bedroom. Everything was where it was or wasn’t supposed to be, which was normal. Even the clock, which had been unusually well-behaved that morning, was sitting on its shelf, ticking away merrily.
Wait— The painting over the safe was slightly ajar. Did I do that, or … He looked at the clock, but there was nothing out of the ordinary about its face.
I must have, he thought as he shoved the painting back into place. That or it happened when the safe moved.
He returned to his place on the couch just in time to catch the bowling ball once more. Toss. Catch. Toss. Catch.
The knocking at his door came again, and again he ignored it.
He already knew who it was. And he knew he was being a bit immature by simply sitting and letting Celestia wait without even giving her the decency of a polite response. But he just … didn’t want to talk to her at the moment.
Sure, she’d say some kind words that would probably make him feel a little better. Maybe even fill him in on what had transpired after he’d left Full Futures. After his outburst, he had no doubt that they’d probably lodged a complaint against him.
It wouldn’t surprise me if they went further, he thought as the bowling ball made a particularly long loop around the rafters, giggling. Maybe stir up trouble with the rest of—
More knocking, but this time different than either of the other two.
That, and it had come from the bathroom.
“Yes?” he asked as he stepped up to the mirror. His reflection frowned at him, shaking its head before holding up a sign.
“Stop MOPING!” the sign read.
“Oh?” Discord asked, pouting. “And why should I!?”
His reflection frowned, then scribbled something new over the sign. “Because it helps no one.”
“Did I not tell you?” he asked. “They don’t want my help.”
His reflection sighed, then scribbled again. “So what? Help yourself.”
“And if I like wallowing in my own misery?”
“You don’t.”
Curse him, he knows he’s right. “Well, fine,” he said, crossing his arms. “But I still don’t need to go talk to anyone about it. Besides—”
A new sign. “Why not feel bad for the right reasons?”
“Oh what are you now, my therapist?” Discord asked, rolling his eyes. “And just what am I supposed to feel bad about if I’m not supposed to wallow in my own—”
His doppleganger held up a picture of a grey-and-black hippogriff filly.
“Well played,” he said, frowning. “Fine, I feel bad about that, all right? She actually liked what I was doing … and then I had to go and ruin it.”
“Did you?”
“Oh sod off,” he said, yanking a towel down over the mirror. “I don’t want to talk about it, all right? I’m going to go stew in my misery like I’m a few centuries old and be happy about it, okay!?”
He stormed back to the living room to find his couch in pieces, flattened by the large bowling ball. A sigh echoed through the room.
“Great.” Despite what he’d told his reflection, he really didn’t want to sit and mope any longer, he just …
He didn’t really know what he wanted to do. He was free now, his penance carried out … even if it had ended on a sour note. Luna had said she’d hoped he would stick around the orphanage and help out, but that avenue was closed to him now.
“I suppose that there are … other orphanages,” he said, sitting atop the bowling ball. “I mean, one child liked me, for a little while anyway. Maybe others could do the same?”
Of course, I’d have to do something about all the adults, he thought, frowning. None of them are going to want a chaos immortal hanging around messing with space and time.
Maybe Canterlot Castle has a daycare service? he wondered. A knocking came at the door once more and he groaned.
“Oh come on, Cake-flank!” he said as he trotted across the house. “What does it take for you to leave well-enough alone? Why I—” He swung the door open and stopped.
It wasn’t Celestia at his door, as he’d expected from the last round of knocks, but rather her younger sister.
“Luna,” he said, pulling back in surprise. The dark-blue alicorn was standing in her office, a calm, controlled expression on her face. “If this is about what happened the other day …”
“Discord,” she replied. “It is … though perhaps not in the way you might expect. May I come in?”
He threw his paws up in a show of surrender. “Might as well. Apparently my front door is accessible to just about anypony these days.”
“Not just anypony,” Luna said as she walked in, not closing the door behind her. He moved to shut it, but she waved him off with one wing. “But I will admit that had you not answered, my next step would have been to go get Fluttershy and have her make an attempt.”
“That probably would have worked,” he admitted, summoning a cushion for the Princess to sit on. “Is she … worried?”
“No,” Luna said, composing herself as she took a seat. “But only because she does not know what has transpired.”
“Ah. Speaking of which—”
“Yes,” Luna said, anticipating his question. “We heard quite a bit about what took place from Ms. Prim Rose. She told quite an interesting tale.”
“Then I expect I’m in a bit of trouble, aren’t I?” he asked.
At that, Luna paused, sucking in a sharp breath. “No, Discord. You are not. At least, not if my reading of Ms. Rose’s sequence of events is correct. You took me at my word, did you not?”
“I’m … sorry? What?”
“When I told you to be a bit more yourself. To look for loopholes.”
“Ah.” That. “Yes, I did.”
Luna nodded. “I see. And the child?”
He sighed. “All I did was tell her a story.” Luna lifted one eyebrow.
“Okay, I showed her a story. Used a fair bit of magic doing it, too.”
“Ms. Prim Rose said that you had filled the hall with a storm.”
“Oh for—It was a minor recreation of the primordial storm! You know the one. Flightfall the weather wizard?”
Luna’s eyes widened. “And—?”
“Yes, and Reus and Kyr,” he said. “And a little of you and your sister added in for good measure. But that’s all it was. And the kid loved it. I didn’t lose my cool until Ms. Rosebush there went off on me.” His voice lost a little momentum as he finished. “And after that, her account of things is probably a little more accurate.”
“It included dire threats about her person.”
He shrugged, not meeting her eyes. “I merely pointed out that I could have done a lot of other things, and the old me would have in a heartbeat, but I wasn’t going to, no matter how badly she treated me.”
“And why not?”
He frowned as he looked at her. “What is this, Luna? Some sort of moral test? Because it would have been wrong. Because it would have undone everything I’ve accomplished thus far—though what that is, I’m not quite certain? Take your pick.”
“Sarcasm aside, I felt it pertinent,” Luna replied. “One more question, then, if you do not mind.” She locked her eyes with his. “What was the name of the pony filly you were telling your story to?”
He flinched. “Varya,” he said, his voice quiet. “And she’s a hippogriff. Not exactly a pony.”
“You flinched, Discord,” Luna said, her voice as quiet as his own. “Why?”
“Because …” The words wouldn’t come. He wasn’t even sure where they were. Or what they were.
“Does it have to do with why you have spent the last day hidden away here in your home?”
“Because she didn’t care about who I was,” he said, slumping atop the bowling ball. “She didn’t care that I was a draconequus, or that I looked like something out of most pony’s nightmares, or that I was twisting the ‘natural order of things’ to tell her a story. All she cared was that I was telling her the story.” He sighed.
“And?”
He frowned as he looked up at her. “You’re entirely too good at this, Luna.”
“I have had a lot of practice,” she said with a faint, almost sad, smile. “Now, as I said: And? This cannot be the only reason you are moping.”
“And I scared her,” he said, his heart aching. “Badly. I lost my temper at the administrator, and she saw the whole thing. She was crying when I left. Couldn’t even look at me. That was all it took to undo everything.”
“Perhaps not,” Luna said, turning her head towards the door. Her horn lit up, a green glow ensnaring something in her office. A moment later a large, rectangular object drifted through the front door. It was the canvas that he had seen in her office the last time he had been there. It was still covered.
“Discord,” Luna said as the sheet-shrouded frame stopped by her side. “Have you ever wondered where I find so much inspiration for my painting?”
“Not really,” he admitted. “So no.”
“I create a wide variety, I will admit,” she said as the painting came to rest against one of her wings, the sheet facing him. “But most of my paintings are about my subjects, from Las Pegasus to Manehatten. Sometimes I gift them to them. Other times, I keep them or give them away as needed. But many of them feature those whose care is in my charge.”
“Dreams,” she said. “I guard their dreams. And sometimes, I see them. I see fears and hopes, loves and pains. Which is how,” she said, turning her head towards the painting. “I came to paint this.”
Her wing swept away the sheet, and Discord straightened in shock. His own, serpentine visage peered back at him from one side of the canvas, a wide smile painted across his face. He was floating in the air, and around him were—
Puppets. Tiny, painted versions of his illusionary puppets. Dancing and playing in the air. A small thundercloud provided a bit of backdrop, but he could still make out each of the figures dancing in the air.
He could see where he was, too. Several days' worth of coming and going had given him a passing familiarity with the front yard of Full Futures. It was resplendent in the portrait, a brilliant, bright blue sky complimenting a field of perfect grass. And in the corner, opposite his own figure, was a small, grey-and-black ball of fluff.
Varya. She was watching his puppet show with a laugh of enjoyment.
It took him a moment to find words. “Well, first,” he said, pulling a pipe out and giving it a quick puff. Bubbles shot into the air, popping with faint chitters. “It’s a very fine piece. Surprisingly very modern, but—” He let out a cough as Luna gave him a flat look—though she was smiling under it.
“This can’t be from my dreams,” he said. “I’ve made sure you can’t get into them.” The lunar diarch shook her head.
“So then … this is Varya’s?”
A nod.
“You painted this yesterday?” he asked.
“No,” Luna said, shaking her head once more. “I started painting it the day you arrived. Some of the details have changed … but many of the common elements were there from the first day.”
“And last night?” he asked.
“A small nightmare,” Luna confessed. “But not about you. She did not cry because you scared her, Discord. Well,” Luna admitted, bobbing her head from side-to-side, “maybe a little. But she cried because she knew she had gotten you in trouble, and you were fighting and shouting with Ms. Prim Rose. Young as Varya is, seeing adults fight is not something she has had a lot of experience with.”
“In any case,” she said, floating the painting forward. “This is yours. I am giving it to you, in honor of your completion of your sentence.”
“I … Thank you,” he said, taking the painting in his paws. “I’ll treasure it. It’s a good reminder of … things.” There appeared to be something in his eyes, a small fish swimming past his view.
“And … that is really all I came here to do,” Luna said, giving him a polite nod. “So I will bid you good evening—”
“I …” He paused to blow his nose on a nearby bar of soap. “Could I ask a favor of you, perhaps?”
“A favor?” The corner of Luna’s mouth climbed upwards even further. ‘What sort of favor?”
“Well …” He looked down at the painting. “I was thinking of a royal decree of some kind … Or maybe ...” He could feel an idea assembling in the corners of his mind, coming together piece by mismatched piece.
“Tell me, Woona,” he said, a sly grin moving across his features. “How do you feel about ‘royal inspections?’”
* * *
Prim Rose sighed as she sank down into her chair, grateful for the minute off or so she could be off of her hooves. The children were all back from school, but most of them were out playing in the neighborhood, and Stacks was keeping an eye on those that were still hanging around, while those that were still sick hadn’t made much of a ruckus over the course of the day, except to complain about being bored.
Oh, to be able to complain about being bored! she thought, rubbing at her temples with her hooves. Ever since they’d lost Breeze, they’d been shorthooved, and the work just never stopped coming. She couldn’t fault the mare for leaving—moving to Cloudsdale with her new husband had been a fantastic reason—but all the same, the lack of extra hooves to spread the work around was wearing Prim thin.
Three months, she thought as she eyed the pile of notes on her desk, each tied to a child or a prospective parent or a requisition for new equipment or something to be fixed ... She let out a groan and sank further back in her chair. Three months without a sign of anyone looking to take Breeze’s position, she thought. The closest we’ve got is Pearl, and she’s just an intern. Plus she already turned it down—not that I’m sure she’d be best for it. Pearl was far better one-on-one with children than she was at a group. That, and her heart wasn’t in it. She tried, but it was clear despite a love of children, her enjoyment was taxed after even a few short hours.
Which left Prim and Stacks picking up all the slack, and Stacks could only do so much with his job as a cook. Oh, he was splendid at what he could accomplish, both with a spatula and without. She’d seen him simultaneously coordinate several children in helping prepare food in his kitchen while at the same time aiding several other children with their homework.
But he couldn’t be everywhere at once, and neither could she. And now that several of the children were ill, her already strained capacity was stretched to its limit.
I just can’t be everywhere at once! she thought. There’s too much to do and not enough hooves to do it. If we don’t find at least one more pony to help chip in, it’s only a matter of time before somepony gets hurt, or there’s an accident, or … something! We simply can’t take care of everyone when there’s only two of us.
And if worst came to worst and there was an accident, or worse, some sort of severe disaster, it could mean the end of Full Futures. Well … that or an outpouring of help once ponies got wind of how desperate the staff was feeling, but betting on that was a gamble.
Besides, it would be a clear sign that she had failed Full Futures. Which could have a negative impact further down the road, even if they managed to fill the empty staff spots and get the orphanage back up to speed.
She let out another sigh as she continued massaging her temples, her eyes closed. If only the Night Court had come through, she thought, scowling in distaste. I asked for helping hooves, and what did we get? A chaos lord. A mad immortal who nearly took the whole country apart not once, not twice, but three times! Her frown deepened. And that’s after the one time he did, though that was a long time ago.
Still, who’s bright idea was it to send him here? It couldn’t have been the Sisters’. Even though the orders the mad demigod had borne had come with their seal attached.
But that could be faked by him, couldn’t it? she wondered. After all, he beat them both once, long ago. Surely forging a document wouldn’t be that hard.
She dismissed the thought. As much as she wanted to believe it, her complaint to the Day Court had been taken quite seriously, though for whatever reason, there had been no response. Discord—a quick shudder ran down her body at the thought of the mad immortal—had shown up the next day all the same and gone right back to work where she’d stuck him.
And then he had to go and pull that stunt yesterday, she thought. Him and Varya.
Poor Varya. The hippogriff hadn’t ceased crying after Discord had left. Worse, she’d seemed to insist that she was holding Prim responsible for what had happened, not Discord … though with a little coaxing, she had been able to point out to the child the way the immortal had swollen to fill the entire hall, and then some.
Still, a cursory magic scan had shown no lingering traces of magic on the hippogriff’s mind, which made her continued insistence that Discord had been doing nothing wrong all the more worrisome.
Then again, Varya was young, and a hippogriff as well. She couldn’t sense the innate wrongness that permeated Discord’s magic. She couldn’t sense what he was doing, how he was warping the very nature of the world rather than operating within its rules.
She let out another sigh. She’d have to explain it to her. Maybe sit down for a history lesson with her and some of the other sick children before anything started spreading any further than it already probably had. She didn’t know what the diarchs were doing letting one such as Discord walk around, but sending him to be around children?
Surely, it had been a mistake.
She opened her eyes and leaned forward, another one of the notes on the top of her crowded desk catching her eye. A reminder from her own self two weeks prior that if the south wing wasn’t finished before the late summer season shifted to fall, there were going to be all kinds of issues once the weather got cooler. Or the heavy rains started.
Well, at least that one section of hall is partially done, she thought, pushing herself up out of her seat and back to the floor with a series of thumps. Even if it was done the way it was. There wasn’t much she could do to undo it. Even with her horn, she’d never been the most magically talented in her class—just one more reason to doubt her scans of Varya.
A clatter of hooves from the hall outside her office made her shake her head, and she started towards the door just as one of the the children skidded around it, almost crashing into the wall in her haste to enter.
“Violet,” Prim said, her mind almost instantly identifying the oldest of a trio that had come to them after a most unfortunate accident. “Slow down.”
Surprisingly, her words didn’t have the effect she’d anticipated. In fact, Violet didn’t seem to have lost an ounce of her animation as she came to a sliding halt, panting. “Ms. Rose!” she said between breaths, her eyes wide with excitement. “The front door! Quick! Someone’s here to see you!”
“Who—” she began, only for the young unicorn to turn and dart out of the office, her hooves scrambling for purchase against the wood.
“Come quick!” came her trailing shout. “You won’t believe it!”
Violet had already vanished around the corner by the time Prim stuck her head outside of her office, and she gave her mane a little shake as she trotted off after the filly, trying to make sure she was presentable.
What or who would have her in such a state? she wondered as she neared the end of the hall and prepared to turn toward the entrance. She could hear the excited babble of children’s voices clamouring from around the corner, sounds of awe and amazement mixed with eager chatter. She couldn’t quite make out the words, but the children were animated.
Then she rounded the corner and felt her knees go weak. Standing in the entryway was none other than Princess Luna, flanked by two members of the Guard, both standing silently in their crystalline armor.
Time seemed to slow as she took in the scene. The Princess was crouched on her knees in the entryway—crouched!—with her wings spread wide as she spoke with the pack of children all around her. One of them was even climbing up onto the Princess’s shoulders, laughing with a wide smile. And she could see more spilling out of nearby rooms, joining the rapidly swelling and energetic crowd.
There was an immediate sense of conflict in her mind. On the one hoof, nopony should be climbing on the Princess … but on the other, the Princess herself didn’t seem to mind. In fact, as she watched, the Princess rose slightly, bouncing the colt—Bit Spark, who was supposed to be in bed recovering, or had he gotten better the day before?—on her shoulders. Bit Spark let out a laugh as he tried to stay in place, and the Princess began bobbing her shoulders from side to side, Bit clutching his hooves tightly around her shoulders as the shaking grew more and more intense.
There was also the lingering sense of surprise that made her body want to seize up and collapse completely, but thankfully she didn’t quite feel the faint tingle in her shoulders and horn that would have marked the start of a fade to blackness.
Momentary shock dealt with, the Princess’s smile was the only thing that kept Prim from stepping forward right then and there. Surely the neck of royalty was no place for a child … but both Bit and the Princess seemed to be enjoying it, and so she waited until Bit lost his grip. Which happened quite quickly, the small colt’s oversized hooves no match for the Princess’s rapid movements. He slid off of her side, both of them laughing, and only then did Prim step forward, letting out a slight cough to gain the Princess’s attention.
“Ah,” the Princess said, a bit of the mirth slipping from her face as she turned to see Prime. “Ms. Prim Rose. We meet again.”
“Yes, your highness,” she said, bowing. “Welcome to Full Futures. What … ah … What brings you here?” she asked. She almost opened her mouth to ask if it was in relation to the incident more than a day ago, but shut her mouth as she spotted Varya in the crowd. No, best to not bring that up.
“Curiosity,” the Princess replied. “I wanted to see for myself the institution of which you spoke as well as have a chance to say hello to the children here.” She turned a wry smile on the scattered crowd. “It is always a pleasure to see so many smiling faces.”
“But,” she continued, and Prim felt her pulse spike. “I also wanted to come take a look at the building and see for myself the difficulties you have had with the south wing, the one that you reported you were having trouble in maintaining?”
Her pulse had been right to spike. This was bad. The Princess of the Moon was in the orphanage’s foyer, and she wanted to see the one part of the building that was in disrepair before anything else.
Still there was nothing she could do but smile and nod. Could I get Stacks, have him delay? But to what end? It wasn’t as if she could fix the south wing herself in the brief moments Stacks’ distraction would buy her. His cooking was good, but not that good. “Of course, Princess,” she said, offering another quick bow. “If you’ll just follow me.”
Princess Luna nodded in return, and Prim turned and began trotting down one of the side halls, leading the group towards the south wing. Laughing and whooping, the children began to follow, some of them rushing on ahead while others hung back to throw rapid, quick questions at the Princess.
“Children,” Prim said, slowing slightly and turning. Several fillies and colts were practically hopping alongside the Princess, and one appeared to be trying to climb atop her back as Bit Spark had. “Don’t bother the Princess.”
“Do not worry,” Luna said, smiling at her. “I came to see them, did I not?”
“I … Yes, your highness, you did,” Prim said, trying to keep an embarrassed blush from her face as she snapped it back forward. She let out a silent scream inside her mind as she continued forward, hoping that the Princess couldn’t see the stiffness to her steps.
First the south wing, now I put my hoof in my mouth in front of one of the Princesses! she thought. This can’t get any worse! She took a deep breath, ignoring the puzzled looks of a few of the children were giving her. They just didn’t understand what was at stake.
“The south wing is just ahead,” she said as they neared the connecting hallway. “I’m afraid, your highness, that I must ask you to excuse any dirt or dust, as well as the generally unkempt state of the wing. As I said, it’s in need of work.”
“I am familiar with such things,” came the Princess’s reply. “I have, after all, seen construction and renovation before.”
“Ah, right.” Prim let out a nervous laugh, trying to ignore what felt like a drop of sweat moving down the back of her neck. Hopefully no one would notice. “Well, that’s good because—”
She rounded the corner and came to a sudden stop, her next words vanishing like smoke before a breeze.
“Prim Rose?” Luna asked as she came to a stop beside her. “Is there something wrong?”
“I …” It took her a moment to find her voice. Around her a few of the children had come to similar stops, staring at the building ahead with looks of confusion, while some of the younger ones simply laughed and ran on ahead. “I’m not sure.”
The hallway ahead of her was not any one she recognized. In fact, she was fairly certain she’d never once seen it before. What it should have been was one of the short entryways to the southern wing of the orphanage, added in more than a three-dozen years prior to her coming to work there. The sight that should have greeted her eyes was bare, heavily-stained wood and naked walls, mixed with an array of dust and dirt from disuse, and maybe a bit of a musty odor.
There was none of that. Instead, the floor was freshly carpeted with thick, heavy whorls, not a bare board in sight. The heavily stained wood along the walls had been replaced with what looked like new, fresh wood and a fresh coat of varnish, somehow already hardened … as one child proved when they rapped their hoof against it. Even the lighting had been upgraded, the old lamps and tacked-on magilights replaced with modern fixtures.
“Is something wrong?” Princess Luna repeated, glancing in Prim’s direction. She tried to speak, but she couldn’t find the words. Even the molding, the ancient molding and reliefs that had ringed the ceiling, looked new … though surely that was impossible.
“I don’t …” she began, before shaking her head. “I’m not sure,” she admitted, trying to keep her legs from shaking. “This … I don’t …” She turned towards the Princess, who was giving her an expectant look.
Could she have … No. She dismissed the thought almost as quickly as it had come. How could she have. Wouldn’t someone have heard something?
Alicorn … her brain sputtered. Silence spells. Her horn itched.
“Prim Rose?” the Princess asked once more, her expression switching to one of concern. “Are you all right?” Even a few of the children were looking at her now, curious questions written on their faces.
“I …” She let out an embarrassed cough. “Sorry,” she said, covering her mouth with her hoof. “I just … I could have sworn that this room didn’t look like this yesterday.”
“Truly?” There was an ounce of suspicion to the Princess’s voice, she was sure of it.
She suppressed a shudder. She had to ask. “Your highness …” she said, trying not to flinch as the Princess’s gaze met her own. “Did you have anything to do with this?”
“With what?” Prim Rose felt her knees shake at the question.
No, of course she didn’t! She’s a Princess! Why would she—? She shut the line of thought off as she turned back to the room, flashing the immortal what she hoped was a grin that didn’t look too nervous.
“Well,” she said, seeing no other alternative. She started forward, trotting into the room, the fresh carpet almost bouncing under her hooves. “Let’s go further into the wing. I can show you a few areas that are in desperate need of attention.”
“Such as the hallway you assigned Discord to work?”
A lance of cold panic rushed through Prim’s body, starting in her hooves and working its way up to her horn. Again she felt the faint prickle of shock setting in as adrenaline flooded her system, and she gritted her teeth. I will not faint in front of the Princess! she chanted. I will not faint in front of the—!
“Ms. Rose?” one of the colts asked. “Are you going to faint again?”
“No,” she said, though she could feel the slight tremor in her voice as her body fought to collapse. Still, for whatever reason she seemed to be holding it back. For the time being, at least. “No,” she said again, her voice stronger. “I am not. I was just … surprised … by the Princess’s question.”
“Yeah,” another student said. “But you usually faint when you get surprised.”
“Not always,” she replied. It was the only explanation she could offer. Come to think of it, she hadn’t had an episode in a day or two … maybe longer.
“Why” was a question she could explore during less pressing times. At the moment, she had the Princess’s question to consider.
“In any case,” she said, turning to face the Princess and trying to put on as calm a face as she could manage. “Yes, that particular hallway is part of the building … though it’s a ways from our current location. It’s on the far side of the building, so we—”
“No matter,” Princess Luna said, offering a soft smile. “In fact, I find myself most curious to see the location for myself. I do not mind a little walk.”
“Of—of course, your highness,” Prim said, hiding her grimace until she had turned away from the diarch. “Right this way.”
Children were running past her, now, heading deeper into the south wing, and from the shouts of surprise as well as the excited looks on their faces and the chatter coming from them as they returned, it was clear that the rest of the wing had been altered as well, outside of the path they were following. Rooms had been repainted. Ceilings had been replaced. She even heard one child say something about a floor that was so finely varnished it was like sliding on ice.
Her horn continued to itch. Her breath was coming in short, forceful gasps now, her earlier attempts to slow her anxiety notwithstanding. She tried to push the worry down—not that it was easy with a living, breathing immortal striding along the carpeted floors behind her. The Guard trailing behind her were almost an afterthought … though from the sounds of some of the continually gathering children’s voices, not all were ignoring them,
Maybe this is … a test! Her mind seized on the idea. Maybe that’s why they sent Discord here? Some sort of test of our dedication to keeping the children safe? And we passed? So one of them fixed the south wing as a repayment of sorts?
Except … it didn’t quite add up. For starters, such a test would be … strange. Even coming from the diarchs. And irresponsible, given Discord’s history.
No, there had to be another answer. But try as she might, she wasn’t having any luck thinking of one. Perhaps if she asked …
“Princess,” she said, turning her head. “Did you by chance …?” Her voice trailed off as the Princess met her eyes with her own—from beneath a new crown that seemed to be made mostly of fuzzy, grey-and-black speckled hippogriff. The crown Varya had replaced was instead hanging around her own neck, the dark metal shining under the lights.
“Yes?” the Princess prompted, her face a mask of perfect seriousness.
But she can’t—She couldn’t possibly not know … Prim shut her hanging jaw as Varya let out a giggle.
“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head and turning her attention back forward as they walked through a room that now featured on all four walls a truly spectacular—if cartoonish—portrait of a jungle, complete with a cat of some kind lying on a branch that almost appeared to wink at her as she walked past.
You’re imagining things, psyching yourself out, she thought as she neared the hallway she’d assigned Discord to work. This is all strange— They passed by one room that appeared to be upside down, complete with furniture that was on the ceiling rather than the floor, and for a brief moment thought she saw one of her charges sitting in one of the chairs as it were completely ordinary. —but clearly you’re losing your grip if you … hang on. Is that … singing?
It was. In a loud, almost off-kilter voice that she wasn’t quite familiar with. It grew louder as they neared the far side of the building, echoing off the walls around them, and with it came instruments. Heavy drums and bright, rich bass, sounding out a cheery, bouncy tune.
But who would be—?
Suddenly, she knew. With mounting horror, she recognized the voice and its owner both, and as the music echoing from ahead swelled to a resounding crescendo, matched by a long, held note from the singer, she knew.
She darted ahead, throwing caution and protocol to the wind and ignoring the cries of surprise from behind her as she raced toward the hall. The itch in her horn swelled, unrelated to her anxiety or her fainting, but from something completely different.
Chaos. Pure, raw, reality-warping chaos.
She burst into the hall, her jaw dropping as she spotted Discord at the other end, just putting the finishing touches on a section of the wall, his back to her. The hall had been completely transformed. The floor had been refinished, and shone like glass beneath the new lights. The walls had been transformed as well, the wood gleaming. The ancient glass windows had been replaced with what looked like modern equivalents, but ones she didn’t even recognize. And along the back wall was a massive mural of … something. She wasn’t sure what. All she could make out was a massive, dark storm, and what looked like two griffons. In fact … She ran her eyes further down the hall. It almost seemed to tell a story from scene to scene.
And each picture was moving slightly. The storm clouds were shifting, the lightning growing thicker and then thinner. The griffons slowly beating their wings.
“What—?” She almost couldn’t find words in the face of so much chaos. Discord turned, grinning as he saw her, and her will to speak surged to the forefront.
“What have you done!?” The words came out almost in a raw scream.
“What have I done?” the immortal asked, still grinning. “I think that’s obvious.” He waved his hands at the hallway. “I—at a not insubstantionally great cost to myself—have fixed your south wing. Granted, I burned through quite a lot of energy doing it; I just don’t have as much as I used to, what with playing nice and all, but I should get most of this back over the next week or so, sp—”
“No!” Prim Rose was aware that the Princess and her entourage had caught up to her now and she was shouting, but she didn’t care. “You’ve tainted all of it! Every last bit of it! This is unacceptable!”
“Oh, really?” Discord crossed his arms. “Explain to me how exactly. As far as I see it, I’m helping.”
“Yes,” came a calm, collected voice from behind her, a voice so cool it could have been cut from ice. “Explain how indeed.”
There! Prim Rose thought, giving the immortal a grim smile. Let’s see you explain yourself to Princess … To Princess ...
Discord was still smiling. And with one idle claw, motioning for her to look behind herself. The cool chill she’d felt a moment earlier grew colder still, and she turned to see the Princess’s eyes not locked on Discord, but on her.
“Well, Prim Rose?” Princess Luna asked, somehow regal even with a hippogriff perched on her head. “Explain your accusations.” Her gaze held no anger, but neither did it convey approval.
“He … I …” Her mind was running a million miles a minute. How she hadn’t fainted yet was beyond her understanding. All eyes were upon her, including those of what at this point looked like half the children at the orphanage. “He’s the demigod of chaos! she said, pointing a hoof back in the lanky draconquus’s direction.
“Guilty!” Discord added.
“He twists reality to his own ends,” she continued. “He doesn’t do magic like you or I, Princess. He warps things! Reshapes natural laws like … like gravity!” She paused for a moment, waiting for some kind of response.
“And?”
The word sent a bolt of panic rushing through her system. “He distorts the very world!” she continued, almost pleading. “He doesn’t just fix things, he changes them! Look what he used to do. I know my history, Princess. And I remember when he broke out. Discord destroys. He breaks down. He makes the logical illogical, bends ponies to his own ends and—”
“Stop, please.” Luna’s request shocked her almost as much as the “please” that had come on the end of it.
“Princess?” She felt like crying. The look that was being aimed in her direction should have been directed at the draconequus behind her, not at her!
“What you are describing, my little pony, are two separate things.” The Princess stepped forward, tilting her head just enough that Varya slid back onto her shoulders.
“First of all, yes, Discord’s magic works by changing the world as we know it. He makes old things young, or large things fit into small spaces that they should not. He is a master of making the world do what we do not expect.”
“But,” the Princess said, bending down slightly as she spoke, putting her head level with Prim’s own. “That does not mean that it is wrong.”
“But …”
“Think of the zebra shamans and alchemists of the Plainslands,” Luna said. “Or the metallurgists and engineers of the Burning Lands. Is the magic they bring forth any more or less ‘right’ than that of ponies?” She shook her head. “No. Different means to an end, perhaps. And each has their dark sides; schools or uses that are looked down on and discouraged—and with good reason. Would you be so bold as to claim that there is no possibility of darkness in the magic your own horn grants you?”
“I … no,” she said, shaking her head. “Of course not. But I don’t—”
“Act?” Princess Luna asked. “No. Your intent is not to cause harm. And so you avoid that darkness. And believe me, I know that darkness well, and I would not wish it on anyone. But would you shun a griffon wizard for their weather powers because that magic worked differently than your own if all they did was good with it?”
“N—no.”
The Princess nodded. “Discord’s magic is different from all of ours, perhaps wholly unique in the entire world. But that does not make it evil. Or wrong. Even if it does seem strange to our own eyes.”
“As far as to his deeds,” the Princess said, and this time there was a cold timbre to her voice, chilling the room. “I too once nearly brought this kingdom to ruin. Do you hold me accountable still for the choices I made?”
“What?” She wanted to back away, but there was something in the Princess’s eyes holding her in place. “No! Never!”
“And why not?” the Princess asked, her voice seeming to fill the whole hall.
“You changed!” Prim said, the words rolling out of her mouth as quickly as she could think of them. “That’s not you anymore!”
“So I did,” the lunar diarch said, nodding. “As has Discord.”
“Your highness?” The world felt like it was coming apart around her.
“When my sister and I, along with the rest of the immortals, first encountered Discord, we reacted much as you do now,” Princess Luna said. “His abilities were strange to us, along with his powers. We had no guidance from the Creator as to what we should do, or how we should proceed. Some even suggested that, perhaps, he was a mistake. That his creation was an accident, something that never should have been.” Her voice grew quiet.
“We were wrong,” she said after a moment’s pause. “The mistake was our own. I—and we that remain—know that now. Discord we have forgiven for his crimes. And in turn, he has begun to forgive us … even with so many centuries of pain behind him.”
“The powers he uses may be beyond all of us,” Luna said, straightening once more. “But it is how he uses them that make him good or evil. And between the two of us …” She bent down once more, a soft smile on her face. “I think fixing Full Futures at great expense of his own counts as something good in this world, hmm?”
“I …” her mind was reeling. “But …”
“In fact,” Discord said, his head appearing by her shoulder. She flinched. “That’s not all I fixed. Granted, the waterslide on the second floor is very impressive—” There was the scrabbling of hooves against the floor as a some of the children raced for the door. “—as is the double loop right before the end—” More hooves hit the floor. “—but one of the most helpful changes I’ve made, Ms. Rose, was right in here.”
Prim jerked back as he tapped the side of her head with one talon, panic welling inside her. “You messed with my mind?” She glanced toward the Princess, looking for aid. “How dare you—”
“Your mind?” Discord laughed. “Of course not. Well, not exactly. And before you get all bent out of shape, Luna gave me the okay.”
“After you asked her, Discord,” the Princess replied, shooting him a disapproving glance. “Which it seems you neglected to do.”
“Bah, details,” Discord said, waving a paw. “So I skipped one or two small steps—”
“Discord …” Luna said, her voice growing stern.
“—but forgiveness instead of permission,” the chaos immortal continued. Prim could feel her legs shaking in terror. What had he done to her. Was she herself? Was her name even Prim? Was she—?
“BOO!” Discord’s toothy maw filled her vision and she gasped, falling back on the floor. She stared up at the draconequus, her heart pounding, her eyes open wide with fear.
“What did you—?”
“You’re awake,” Discord said, eyeing his talons like he was discussing the most simple thing in the world.
“I … I am,” she said, looking down at her lime-green coat. “I’m awake!”
“Yes,” Discord said. “Technically I messed with your mind a teeny-tiny bit, but in the biological sense, not the philosophical one. I tweaked your fainting reflex. You’ll find that you’re far less susceptible to shock now. It’ll take some reinforcement to make it stick, of course, otherwise you’ll find yourself collapsing on the ground at all sorts of times before long, but after a few alterations your body should get the point.”
Prim stared down at her hooves in shock, then pushed herself up from the ground. He was right. She hadn’t fainted when the Princess had appeared in the entryway, though just a week or so earlier she’d fainted when the diarch had addressed her during her appearance at court. And she hadn’t fainted through any of the other surprises that the day had thrown at her. Just like she hadn’t fainted during Discord’s outburst when she’d thrown him out.
“I’m cured …” she said, her jaw hanging slack.
“Only if you want to be,” Discord added. “If I don’t make sure the adjustment sticks by nudging it a few times, you’ll be back to your old, comatose self before long.”
“But …” She turned her gaze upwards, away from her hooves, and towards the immortal’s horrible, grinning maw. “Why?”
“Well, for starters,” Discord said, summoning a notepad and a pair of thin, rectangular glasses. “Someone who works with children is probably due any number of surprises on the average day. At least, I would assume so.” There was a loud crash from somewhere nearby, drawing her attention away with a start, and Discord chuckled. “Case in point. Don’t worry about that, though,” he said, waving a paw and pulling her attention back in his direction. “That was supposed to break.”
“What was?” She felt silly for asking the question after it had slipped free of her mouth, what with everything else happening, but maybe that was why it had made it past her filter in the first place. She was overwhelmed, caught in the moment. It was a new feeling.
“A statue I made out of spare boards up on the second level,” he said, his talons waving idly. “Don’t worry, I made sure it would fall upwards. And then turn into cotton candy before it fell back down.”
She blinked, trying to process everything at once. Princess Luna—Discord—south wing—not fainting—! There was a cyclone of thoughts in her head, spinning and twisting.
“Anyway,” Discord said, waving his paws again and bringing her focus somewhat back towards him. “As I was saying, it occurs to me that though you might be able to run this place while constantly fainting, you might have a better time of it if you weren’t falling over every time some child leapt out and yelled ‘Surprise!’”
“And besides,” he said before she could counter his assertion. “It seemed like a good thing to do. Unless you didn’t want me to do it, in which case, it’d probably still be a good thing, but you’d be all the more foolish for turning it away. Much like turning away help keeping this place running, or assigning the help to do menial tasks that don’t—”
“Discord,” the Princess said, her tone warning.
“Right, right.” The draconequus nodded rapidly, the glasses and notepad vanishing. “The point is … it’s something I could do to help. Really help. Like repairing this wing,” he said, gesturing at the finished hall. “I burned a lot of power doing it, but it’s fixed now. You don’t have to worry about it anymore.”
Prim looked towards Princess Luna, but the diarch shook her head. “The idea was not mine,” she said. “At least, not entirely. Though I did give him permission.”
“If you don’t like it,” Discord cut in, “I can undo it all with a snap of my talons. Okay,” he said, looking slightly chagrined. “Maybe a few snaps of my talons over the next few days. I kind of did spend a lot of energy doing this. It’ll be a while before I can just do something like this again.”
“But …” Prim let her gaze dart between the two immortals. “I don’t …” The Princess let out a quiet cough, Varya still watching from her back, along with a number of other children who hadn’t let a double-loop waterslide entice them away.
“Fine …” Discord said, rolling his eyes at the diarch. He looked at Prim once more. “Prim Rose?”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry for losing my temper the other day. I could have handled things differently. I wasn’t pleased with the treatment I was getting—” Another cough of warning from the Princess. “—but I could have handled things better than I did. I apologize.” He held out a paw. She stared at it for a moment.
“Prim Rose?” She looked towards the lunar immortal at the prompting. “He is offering a paw of friendship, despite the last few days,” Princess Luna said, tilting her horn towards the waiting chaos demigod.
“I …” She reached out, slowly, her hoof seeming to take forever to cross the space, Princess Luna watching all the while. Discord wrapped his paw around her hoof. “I apologize as well,” she said, one eye still on the Princess as to gauge where she was supposed to be heading. Everything still felt like a mismatched jumble in her head. “And … thank you for your work on the south wing. It’s a little unconventional … but I suppose it’ll have to do.”
“A grudging admission,” Discord said, releasing her paw. “But one I’ll accept. At the very least, it’s a good start.”
“Start?” The maelstrom in her head hadn’t settled, but suddenly she felt like someone was about to add something to it.
Discord smiled, his grin stretching impossibly wide and once-again showing far too many teeth. “Look, Prim, can I be Frank with you for a moment?”
The Princess was still looking on, so she nodded. What else could she do? “You may.”
“Good,” Discord said, his voice shifting and getting slightly more nasally while taking on a lower Manehatten drawl. “Hello, Prim, I’m Frank. I’d like to talk you about my buddy Discord, see?”
“You … may?”
“It’s like this, doll,” Discord said, flipping a coin he’d procured from somewhere within—when had he put on a trenchcoat? “Discord, see, he’s had a rough time of things, but he’s on the up-and-up, really looking to make a change with his life. You following?” He pulled his dark shades down, yellow eyes peering out at her from beneath his fedora.
“Of course, it’s hard to change when you’re still stuck in the same old rut, know what I mean?” The last part of his phrase came out in a rush, like the words were racing towards some unseen finish line. “Doubly hard when everyone around you but a few keep trying to push you back into it. Why, if it wasn’t for his parole officer—classy dame with a lot of leg, that one—” Princess Luna let out an indignant snort. “—he’d probably have gone off the deep end a long time ago. Right back to the old ways. Dealing salt to kids, pushing old ladies around, overthrowing governments, and making crosswalks into zig-zags. You know, down and dirty, underhooved stuff.”
“Anyway, things being what they are, the guy’s gotta find something to do with his life. Something to keep himself occupied so he doesn’t go bananas. And believe me, you think you know bananas, this guy knows bananas.” He paused, taking a long draw from a kazoo. “Anyway, doll, point is, he’s a decent guy looking for a new direction in life. He’s had some rough spots in the past, but trust me, he’s got a lot of heart. Four of them, in fact. Anyway, a friend of his—a good friend, probably a better one than he deserves half the time—suggested that he might be good with kids. Really good. And the word on the streets is that you’ve got yourself a demand here. An opening!”
“Now, doll, look,” Discord—or was it Frank?—said, tugging a simple, straight-backed chair from behind him and sitting in it backwards, his stomach up against the backing. “I know the guy’s got a rap sheet longer than my arm. And sure, he’s a little eccentric—though who isn’t? But all he’s asking for is a chance, a chance to do some good for once. And your place might be exactly what he needs right now.”
“So whatta’ya say, doll?” he asked, holding out a paw. “You interested in helping an old immortal learn a few new tricks. Use his powers for good? And cupcakes?”
She stared at the outstretched paw. Let him work here!? Hire him? Is he insane? Is the Princess insane? And the children! They’ll be terri—
“I want him to stay.”
Prim turned from Discord in surprise, her eyes going wide. “What?” she asked, looking down at where the voice had originated.
Varya stared up at her, a look of determination on her face. “I want him to stay,” she said, enunciating each word carefully and clearly. “I don’t want him to go.”
Her eyes darted back towards Discord, who seemed to have a stunned, almost gobsmacked look on his face. “Why?” she asked, looking toward Varya once more.
“Because he’s nice,” came Varya’s reply. “And he tells neat stories. And he fixed stuff!”
Using powers that … Princess Luna just said were no more or less evil than our own magic. The whirlwind in her head was settling, but all the debris it was depositing was pointing in a singular direction.
“That is one vote of confidence,” Princess Luna said, smiling down at the filly. “And reasons such as those are part of the reason I suggested Discord as a solution to your problems in the first place.”
“So, doll, whattaya say?” Discord asked, his paw still extended.
“I …” She took another quick look around the newly refurbished hallway. All eyes were on her.
Her horn still itched. The hallway around her reeked of unnatural energies. But even so …
The Princess nearly destroyed Equestria as well, she thought. And she did that with magic just like everypony else’s. Maybe she’s right about this?
It was a foolish question. She was a Princess. Of course she was right.
But then, the Princess had said she’d been wrong about things. Except that it was her being wrong about Discord.
And if a Princess could be wrong about Discord … couldn’t she?
“Fine,” she said, reaching out and, for the second time that day, shaking her hoof with Discord’s paw. “He gets his chance.”
“Excellent!” Discord shouted, bursting free of his trenchcoat and fedora in an explosion of confetti.
“But!” she said, cutting off his early glee, as well as a shout of joy from Varya. “It’s conditional,” she added, giving the immortal a stern look. “There are to be limits on what you do, like any other employee here. Even moreso, considering the ‘bananas’ you can get up to.”
Discord nodded, a suddenly solemn look on his face. “I believe I can work with that.”
“And there’s to be no alteration of anyone’s physiology without my express approval,” she continued. “I’m retroactively approving whatever you did to get rid of my fainting—”
“I didn’t actually get rid of it,” Discord interrupted. “You’ll still faint like anypony else with a sufficient enough shock. You’re just, you know, at that level now.”
“Whichever,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m retroactively approving it, but if you do it again, you’re history, hear me?” Things were making more sense now; she was back in her role. She was the manager. And this chaos demigod … he was her employee.
“And I suppose ironically granting younglings’ wishes so that they learn a timely moral lesson is out of the question?” he asked, lifting one eyebrow so high it almost appeared to be leaving his head.
“Ye—” She caught herself, running over his phrasing in her head. “Talk to me beforehoof for a case-by-case on that.” Discord nodded.
“Everything else, we can discuss tomorrow morning when you arrive,” she said as her body suddenly felt weak. “Nine in the morning, on the dot.”
“I shall be impeccable.”
“And you can start by showing me what all you did to the south wing,” she said. “Then, not now. Right now, I really need to sit down for a few minutes—”
“Try the old sitting room about two doors down,” Discord said. “The furniture in there is desperate for company.”
“I … think I’ll pass,” she said. “I’ve had enough excitement for my day. Tomorrow, nine AM.”
“I’ll be there with bells on.”
“Please don’t,” she said, wincing as she turned toward Princess Luna. “Princess, I must ask you to forgive me for cutting this tour short.”
“It is fine,” the Princess replied, waving one horseshoe-clad hoof. “Think nothing of it. It would appear that you are doing what you can to rectify problems and challenges that could be expected for running a location such as this.”
“Thank you, Princess.”
“But … if you do not mind …” The immortal’s expression took on a somewhat pleading look.
“Princess?”
“May I be allowed to stay and visit with the children?” she asked. “After all, I understand that they like to hear stories.”
Who safer to leave them with?
“You may, Princess,” Prim said, bowing. There was a cheer from what few children had still stuck around. Then she shot one final look at Discord. “As for you, nine tomorrow.” The chaos demigod nodded, grinning.
She trotted out of the hallway as quickly as she could. Best to find Stacks and tell him what had just happened.
And then, maybe then, out of sight of the Princess, she could let herself panic.
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Good to see prim got told off by the princess she was starting to get on my nerves, granted she's still there but at least shes not a jerk any more
It's nice to see she can change her mind!
(Hey, I'm first~! Neato!)
I'm very happy that this is not over. I don't want it to end.
*shipping intensifies*
8289374
A better resolution to Prim's involvement than what the black little goo of a heart of mine had come up with! Then again, I'm evil like that.
Although... A tiny bit of me kind of hoped that Luna would refer to Discord as being perhaps the eldest orphan around. Or something sufficiently profound to strike at the heart of the matron.
8289374
8289424
8289710
The thing with Prim is you can't really say she's done anything worthy of punishment. Not in any country or sovereign state that values the freedom of expression. She has the right to her opinions—incorrect and prejudiced as they may be—just as anyone else does provided she's not violating others' inalienable rights. Anyone has the right to refuse donated help on private prejudice because what's the alternative? Forcing someone against their will? That can be dangerous ground.
And that's where this story gets tricky. Because outside of Prim, Stacks, and just about most other ponies' attitudes around Discord ... they're not bad individuals. Prim, Stacks, all the others ... there's plenty to like about them unless you're on the other end of that prejudice they have against Discord, which is something none of them have every really questioned. Worse, Discord has by his own admission effectively lived up to the exact reputation they fear for a long, long time, which means his slate isn't clean either. He's straight up amplified and given reason for those fears to exist, even if in a context of "Well, if that's what you call me, that's what I'll be!"
That's one reason I like this story so much—both sides have grievances, and both sides have legitimate reasons for their behavior. But with the story in Discord's perspective, where the honesty behind his motives is clear, it's easy to side with him.
Make no mistake: Prim Rose is wrong to treat him the way she does, but she's also blind to her own prejudices, and were the story written from her point of view throughout, most readers would probably agree with her and be siding against Discord, because all they'd get would be her perspective, biased as it is.
There's a lot of little things anyone could take away from this, but Prim's own stubbornness definitely shows the faults of not trying to see all sides of the picture and not giving the benefit of a doubt. Instead, she leaps ahead based on her own assumptions, and, well ... boom.
While Prim was wrong, though, that doesn't make her evil at all ... no more than someone speaking out against a church-run camp for being religious, or against someone simply for being a member of a rival political organization (the two convo-killers summoned at once!) evil. It may just be completely blind, misguided judgement.
8289540
Indeed it is not. What's left and when will you see it? Well ... we'll see.
8289657
I love writing Discord's antics, but his "Can I be Frank with you?" scene was completely spur of the moment, and one that had me laughing even as I wrote it. There are some things only Discord can get away with, like meta references (or maybe Pinkie), and this was one of them.
That, and Luna's chair.
EDIT: And to all so far, I'm glad you're enjoying the story! If you're new, definitely check out my other stuff and page!
8289835
Yeah, that scene was great, and was very much a scene only Discord could get away with. Also, it's funny you mentioned that scene, because before you launched into it I saw the line "can I be frank with you?" and thought "Ok Frank." to myself.
As for the first part, I definitely got that, although I think it might have come through more strongly if you had alternated between their viewpoints.
I don't know, with the way American politics have gotten lately there's a definite argument to be made to the contrary these days (and note that I deliberately didn't specify a party).
8291541
I didn't want to alternate between the two though, as I wanted the story to be Discord's perspective, save for that one scene where the difference comes across. It could have worked, but I think it's stronger when it's not so explicitly said, since that encourages more critical analysis.
8291590
Fair enough. There are lots of ways to approach something like this, and the choice really comes down to what you want to convey in the story. Alternating would have really highlighted the different viewpoints on the same situation, but sticking mostly with Discord like this helps to focus in on him and highlight his personal frustrations with his situation in general which makes sense given that this story is really intended to follow his character arc more than anything else.
P.S. Any chance you'll do something with those ship teases I've been joking about? I don't care if a romance happens or not, but I think it would be hilarious if someone else in the cast decided to tease Luna about it as well. Celestia's the obvious choice, but it could also be a good way to show the Dusk Guard's growing personal familiarity with Luna if someone like Hunter did it.
I feel I must make a little note of logical analysis with regard to the show in this area:
Discord's magic, though chaotic, BELONGS to their world. After all, Tirek WAS able to absorb it instantly and add it to his reservoir without any difficulty or side-effect whatsoever. And though I do think that was a terrible mistake in the writing as it SHOULD have caused Tirek some problems, it's still the canon, as feeble as it may be.
His magic was also nullified by the changeling anti-magic throne as instantly and as thoroughly as all the ponies' was. Again, this signifies that his magic is a natural part of their world.
But... what does that say about CHANGELING magic, eh? The only magic NOT touched by the stone? The only magic capable of powering itself through stolen emotions? Are the changelings really part of Equestria at all, if we consider this evidence?
8298513
You just blew my mind -- that headcanon
Pretty much everyone that doesn't have the ancient reputation of eating them?
Shouldn't that last sentence be in its own paragraph?
Move the apostrophe: "several days' worth"
I've finally read this. Nearly a year late, but better late than never, right? I must say, I love the way you write Discord. The casual expressions-that-become-literal, his arguments with himself, the absolute multitude of references, (most of which I missed, I'm fairly sure) and even the way there's still traces of his earlier fixation with Twilight all work together so beautifully.
One phrase that stood out to me was when he introduced himself as demigod of chaos. I liked that. A lot of stories introduce him as the Lord of Chaos, or the god of Chaos, but demigod seems to fit better. I absolutely fell in love with Varya, by the way, she's such a delightful young thing. And there's even still an epilogue to read!
your cat I presume I just hope the link works
portrait of a jungle, complete with a cat of some kind lying on a branch that almost appeared to wink at her as she walked past.
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