No Thanks for the Memories

by auctor

5.

The goo was thin enough that Twilight could breathe it, making it impossible for her to drown in it, regardless of how much it felt like she was at first — changelings can’t extract love from a corpse, after all — but thick enough that it was exhausting to do so. This was a reason why changelings’ captives spent so much of the time asleep. Another was there was nothing to do in a cocoon. She couldn’t cast spells, or spread her wings, or even speak.

She watched as one by one her friends greeted the changeling impersonating her, only to get ambushed and pushed into a cocoon. Every time, she tried to warn them by beating on the wall of the cocoon, but she couldn’t build up much speed in her hooves given the goo and the small range of motion the cocoon accorded her legs.

Spike entered and waved to the changeling Twilight Sparkle with a cheery “Hiya, Twilight.”

Oh, no, not him too.

Maybe the changeling language had 50 words for all the different kinds of love there were. If it did, one of them could be how she felt for Spike. Ponish certainly did not. He was something like her little brother, something like her son, something like her best friend. Twilight’s tears seeped into the goo instead of falling down her face.

---

Before Spike could say a word he was hit with Twilight Sparkle’s flying tackle. She hugged him tightly with her forelegs and wings. “I love you, Spike.”

Spike patted the weeping alicorn’s shoulder, “I love you too, Twilight.”

---

Between the first and second knock, Discord’s door dissipated into vapor, making Twilight stumble momentarily.

“Come in, come in!” the draconequus called jovially, and once Twilight had crossed the threshold, the door re‐solidified behind her.

“Hello Discord, I —”

“— should have told me you were coming, I would have made appropriate preparations for receiving a head of state.” Discord snapped his fingers and his chair turned into that weird twin‐antlered throne of his, while Twilight suddenly found herself sitting on a tall white and gold throne with pink cushioning.

Twilight’s eyes narrowed into slits at this distinctive manner of interruption. She took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “I’m not the head of state yet. And what throne even is this?”

“Pish posh, what’s a few moons between friends? And that’s the throne you’ll sit on when you are head of state.”

“I thought that hadn’t been designed yet.”

“It hasn’t. Since you like excessive accuracy, it’s your favorite among the designs you will be presented with. If you want to choose a design that’s not your favorite just to prove that precognition is another thing I can’t do, go ahead.”

Twilight brought a hoof up to rub her temple, “This isn’t going well. I came here to thank you for what you did for Fluttershy.”

“I didn’t do it for anyone’s approval and I don’t need anyone’s gratitude.”

“I know you wish you could do more, but you’ve done more than anyone else in the world could.”

Discord looked to the side, “Maybe, but it’s not enough. She’s the last pony in the world to deserve... that.”

“That doesn’t make you obligated to fix it.”

Discord continued looking to the side, waiting for Twilight to continue. When she didn’t, he said, “Some ponies think I can do anything. If I hang around them too much, I start to think it too. So, it’s good to be reminded now and then of what I can’t. I just wish it was done without hurting someone.”

“That doesn’t seem like enough reason.”

Discord returned his gaze to Twilight, “Reason for what?”

“For holing yourself up like this. You haven’t visited Fluttershy once, since.”

“She needs her space.”

“Discord...”

Discord snarled and leaned forward, “Maybe I need my space!”

“Discord, I know something bigger is upsetting you. Otherwise you wouldn’t be acting like that with her and like this with me.”

“I’ve always been rude to you.”

“Not like this.”

“What, you want a token of appreciation for your visit? Fine, I’ve got a gift for you. You can’t say you came away empty‐handed.”

Discord held out a piece of paper, and Twilight levitated it over. It was a very crude map of southeastern Equestria, drawn in crayon, with a dashed black path leading to a red X.

“What’s this?”

“That shows where Tirek is hiding out.”

Twilight blinked, “I thought you’d want to tackle Tirek personally. What with your history.”

Discord slumped, rested his head on his paw, and let out a long sigh. “I thought I was on the right path, but it turned out I was on the wrong one. And the first thing you do when you see you’re on the wrong path is to stop walking down it, right?”

“That’s incredibly abstract.”

“I don’t want to get into the details. I’m more of a big‐picture guy.” He pointed to the twice‐life‐size framed portrait on the wall, which waved to Twilight when she looked at it.

“You capturing Tirek is a step down the wrong path?”

“No, not capturing Tirek. But after what he did, I don’t trust myself, not this soon...” He trailed off, never completing the thought. After a long pause, he said simply, “It’s better if you handle him.”

“What about Grogar?”

“You don’t have to worry about Grogar.”

“Have you already taken care of Grogar?”

“In a manner of speaking. He’s gone.”

“And... the way you handled Grogar makes you scared of the way you’d take care of Tirek.”

“I’m not going to play Twenty Questions, Twilight.”

“And it’d upset Fluttershy if she knew.”

“Twilight, I’m warning you, drop it, now.”

Twilight nodded, “I don’t know what’s eating you up, and maybe I’ll never know. But if you don’t talk about it with Fluttershy, you’ll regret that more than whatever it is.”

Discord didn’t reply, so she walked to the door, which obligingly turned to mist on her approach. At the doorway, Twilight turned her head to face him a final time, “Thank you, Discord.”

“Just go away and take care of Tirek.”