Chapter 1: An Unwelcome Discovery

Discord

Discord was in an unusually-happy mood that morning.

He knew that it might seem surprising to those who knew him only as a merry spirit of Chaos Incarnate, prone to play his mischievous tricks far and wide -- at least that's what he thought it meant when Ponies screamed, often dropping whatever they were holding at the time, and ran in doors, or into the forest, or the nearest handy caverns, whenever they saw him. An unwillingness to join in the fun, or something like that. However, that at least implied that they knew he was all about fun. That he must seem to everypony to be a rather happy and carefree sort of fellow.

But there was one Pony he knew who was almost always willing to join in the fun. As long as he didn't hurt anypony, that was. And it wasn't as if he wanted to hurt any ponies any more. He'd promised not to, after all. To her. And he especially didn't feel like hurting any ponies any more. Especially not when he was with her.

She was a Pony, and how could he possibly want to hurt any of the same species that had produced her?

So he stepped in that direction indescribable to most Ponies -- only one could see it clearly, and that particular Pony lived with her family in South Dunnich, some fifty miles from where he was going -- and toward Fluttershy's parlor. Or that was going to be where he was going, except at the last moment he decided to step into her bedroom, because that would be a much more fun thing to do. Either she'd still be asleep, in which case he'd do something spectacular to wake her up, or more likely she'd be downstairs in her kitchen and then he could dramatically fly down into her parlor.

One step, and he was there. "Surprise," he started to say ...

The first thing he noticed was that, while Fluttershy was in bed, she wasn't asleep.

The second thing he noticed was that, while Fluttershy was in bed, she wasn't alone.

She was not exactly in flagrante delicto. But the presence of the head of what was indubitably a stallion (and a remarkably large one at that) on the pillow next to her, the rumpled condition of the bed-clothes, and a very strong smell of sweat and sex in the room made it very obvious that he had avoided catching her in that position by a matter of mere minutes.

That and the look of extreme shock on both their faces, and fear on the stallion's face the moment he realized just who had abruptly appeared in the bedroom of his inamorata. The guilt that a moment later flashed onto Fluttershy's face made it obvious, if all the other evidence had been inadequate, exactly what had just happened.

He started to make a move forward, and Fluttershy's expression shifted instantly. Determination blazed in her eyes.

"Discord, no! Don't hurt him!" she said, and behind it was the force of her Stare, and so of course he could not act as he had intended and turn her prince back into a frog. That was a classic transformation, one of his favorites. He dimly wondered through the sick sense of betrayal, how she could just do that to him.

Stupid bugs, he thought sourly. Where'd they get the power to do that? Then he remembered. Oh yes. Possibly not my best decision ...

But it was not just some stupid bug, it was Fluttershy -- his Fluttershy, or so he had thought, whom he'd also considered his friend, who had done this to him. And how did she even know that would work? he wondered. The last time she'd tried to use the Stare on him, he'd pretended to immunity.

Either she'd figured out later just what had really happened, or she'd just been that worried about her lover's well-being that she'd tried it without even considering that it might not save him. The depths of emotional intimacy and attraction the latter interpretation implied depressed him further.

Fluttershy snapped the Stare closed, turned toward the stallion.

"Bulk, you have to go," she told him in a low, calm voice. "Now," she added, when he hung indecisive.

"But I ... what if he tries to hurt you?" he asked her in a voice that seemed ridiculously childlike, despite its breathy gruffness. Concern was plain on his exceedingly-ugly face.

"He won't," Fluttershy assured him. "And if he wanted to --" she lowered her eyes sadly, "-- you couldn't stop him. Now go."

"But ..." Bulk said again, clearly torn between the desire to protect his mate and the desire to obey her.

"Now!" insisted Fluttershy. The Stare flickered briefly, and he cowered back. Tangling himself in the bedclothes as he did, Bulk -- with an exceedingly unhappy look -- bolted out of the room and down the stairs.

She turned back to look at him, unafraid.

You forgot to tell me not to hurt you, Discord thought darkly. Old desires stirred within him, old habits churned beneath his greater emotional numbness. Did you forget? Or are you just assuming that I won't, because I'm your friend?

In his mind, which was very great though very disorganized, the pieces of what amounted to a weapon clicked into place. Energies rose within him. Realities prepared to warp, to turn Fluttershy into something physically-incapable of Staring at him ... but he couldn't do it.

It wasn't the old geas she'd put on him months ago -- that had long since worn off, as was inevitable when cast against a being at his level of power. It was, alas, exactly what she'd been counting on.

He couldn't hurt her ... because he still saw her as his friend.

Despite everything, he still loved her.

With a howl of inchoate rage that shook the whole cottage, created a flock of a bird species which had been extinct for ten million years, and triggered an unplanned deluge of iced tea over a random part of the Everfree Forest, he stepped back home, leaving that accursed bedroom far behind him.

***

Bulk

Bulk Biceps tumbled out of Fluttershy's front door, uncertain of where to go next. Without really thinking about it, he galloped down the lane leading from her doorstep across her wide front yard. cutting corners on her twisty path up the low hill, across the little bridge, toward the gate opening on the main road. Running was the best plan he had available ... for now.

Bulk was not the most brilliant of Ponies, but he was smarter than he looked. Which, admittedly, wasn't all that difficult to achieve, since he looked like a mindless slab of muscle in roughly equine form. He knew exactly why Discord might have been so upset to find him in bed with ... for a moment, he almost lost track of his thoughts in utter worship of the wondrousness that was Fluttershy, the sweetness and beauty that she had privileged him to so intimately know ... well, yeah. Fluttershy had told him that she and Discord weren't involved that way, but he knew how guys thought. Being one himself.

And, for all his brief bravado, he knew that there was no way he could fight Discord. He remembered the Day of Madness three years ago, a day he'd spent being chased all over town by a swarm of creatures that looked like butterflies but had appetites and teeth that no butterfly naturally born had ever owned. That was something Discord had done to him by way of idle amusement, no hard feelings. What wouldn't the Twister do to someone who he caught in bed with ... momentary distraction, forced down by combined willpower and fear .. somepony he thought was his mare?

Yeah. And not the happy kind of "yeah" either.

He was running away, leaving her -- his Goddess -- alone with that monster. Even though she said he wouldn't hurt her. Because, in the end, Bulk had no choice. He was just an ordinary Pegasus, caught in a clash of divine forces.

For all his size and muscles, at that moment Bulk felt very small.

The next moment he felt very surprised. Because as he reached the gate, a familiar pink mare had popped up from behind a wooden gate that surely must have been way too small to conceal her. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen her approaching along the road, either.

"Hi Bulk!" Pinkie Pie said with her usual squeaky good cheer. "We gotta get you to safety!"

"Yeah," said Bulk, galloping back toward Ponyville, Pinkie easily keeping pace with him despite the fact that she was bouncing rather than properly galloping, and doing it backward, "that's what I'm doin' now." He generally liked Pinkie -- it was generally impossible not to like Pinkie, annoying as she so often was -- but this didn't seem like a good time for a party.

"No, silly!" said Pinkie. "That's not safety! Discord'll look for you there first!

Bulk slowed and stopped. The crazy pink filly -- he had never really perceived Pinkie as a mare, even though he had once heard that she was only a year younger than his goddess Fluttershy -- actually had a point. "Where's safety?" he asked, not unreasonably.

Pinkie spoke a set of syllables that did not sound like they could possibly have come from any equine throat, then cocked an ear as if listening for a reply. Her whole body seemed to tremble. She smiled in mad glee.

"There's safety," she said, as the very air in front of them shimmered and in a circle opened to show a very different landscape, some sort of hilly woodlands with oddly-regular mountains in the background, on which the Sun seemed to be shining at a different angle, judging by the positions of the shadows.

"Twister's on his tail!" shouted Pinkie into the circle of altered vision, though Bulk could see no one on the other side to whom she might be speaking. Wait ... was something distorting the view? Bulk leaned forward, tried to see more clearly ...

Thwap! Thwap! Thwap! Bulk screamed like a little girl as three invisible, wet tentacles wrapped themselves around his middle and both forelegs. He struggled, but the tentacles were tremendously muscular, their owner far stronger than himself.

They began dragging him toward that changed circle of air.

"Thanks, Claire-Bear!" Pinkie said. She grinned madly at Bulk himself. "Say 'hi' from me to Inkie and Blinkie when you meet them! And I hope you like rocks!"

"Aieee!!!" shrieked Bulk as he was pulled into the portal.

***

Pinkie

"Nice fella," commented Pinkie to herself, aloud.. "A good sport. He was friendly on the trip. I can see why Fluttershy likes him.

"But boy, is he excitable!" The last word was almost a happy cry, her voice pushing the upper registers of the Pony hearing range.

"Oh well," she said. "He's not my colt-friend." Pinkie smiled, perhaps somewhat more goofily than was usual even for herself, at the thought of the very special stallion she'd met just this August, who wasn't quite yet her colt-friend but whom she very much suspected might assume that role in her life.

Pinkie Pie was 23 years old, an age at which many mares were betrothed or even married, yet it had only been this year that she had noticed herself looking at stallions in a strange and exciting new way. Not mere marehood and mild sexual attraction -- that change had come to her a decade past -- but the thought that, maybe, one of them might be The One with whom she could be happy for the rest of their days.

It had seemed impossible to her for so long -- she was a Daughter of Paradise, and a very unusual one at that, and she hadn't seen how anypony could really understand her. There were Ponies she really liked, whom she felt she might be tolerably content with -- her fifth cousin Big Mac was one pretty awesome guy, and really kind and caring under his 'I'm-a-big-tough-stallion-who-feels-no-pain-not-even-when-I-get-an-ouchie' manner. And she knew that in one worldline they'd actually gotten married, and seemed to have really loved each other -- she was kind of glad that the details of that were hazy, or they might have broken her heart to contemplate. So she'd thought about him a little that way -- but he didn't really have her own sense of fun. Nopony did, which was the problem.

Then -- well then Cheese Sandwich had blown into town. And he was fascinating and annoying and enraging and -- absolutely wonderful. With those dreamy green eyes and that wild long curly brown mane so much like a darker version of her own, that manic energy which meant he could actually keep pace with her, that quick mind, that warm heart, that sense of humor and ... and he was linked to Paradise! Just like her! Even though he wasn't a Child of Paradise, for Paradise told her that it had sired no Sons ...

She didn't totally understand him. Even Paradise didn't totally understand him, and it was older than this Cycle of the World and had all the secret knowledge of the Age of Wonders plus everything it and its Ponies had thought about for three thousand years stored within its self. But she didn't have to totally understand him, because there was a part of Pinkie Pie, a part of her soul that had never opened or been touched before, that was now blossoming and wanted very, very much to be touched. By him.

Pinkie was glad that she'd refused all the offers she'd gotten over the years from other stallions. And some mares. Offers from the few who wanted her despite the fact that everything other than her body was telling them that she was an immature filly, too young to mate. Those weren't usually the nicest kind of Ponies, anyway, and most of the time they were making these offers because they had a serious and fundamental misunderstanding about the function of a "party pony," much like those meanies Aloe and Lotus sometimes had to toss out of their spa did about the nature of their profession. They were not whorses -- and neither was Pinkie.

So it would be Cheese. She'd already decided in her heart, though of course she wouldn't let him know right off the bat. And she was glad that Cheese would be the first -- hopefully the only -- Pony she would give herself to. It would be much funnier that way. And much sweeter.

She sighed happily. She loved sweet things. Then, she remembered the problem at hand.

Let's see ... Bulk's safe now, once he realizes Claire and the Flappies aren't going to eat him, and he stops screaming, Granny can tell him he's in her wards and Dissy can't get in there without trying real hard. And Dissy's lazy -- never woulda liked living on our farm! Well, I didn't like it that much either -- but that was mostly because it was boring ... I'm super-okay with hard work, as long as it's fun ...

She supposed she could have sent him to the Crystal Empire instead. Its Crystal Heart was the original model for Granny's wards, and it was much stronger. But then making Gates was Claire's Talent, not Pinkie's, and if Granny thought Bulk needed to be in the Crystal Empire, Claire could send him there. No point second-guessing Granny, Pinkie decided. She's one big smartie-Pie, she thought to herself, then snorted appreciatively at her own joke.

I should go check on Fluttershy, Pinkie decided. She's prolly kinda frownie right now, and nopony puts a smile on somepony's face like me! A possible problem occurred to her, and she tasted the probabilities. Oh, Dissy's gonna be gone a while, he's gotta get in touch with his innner self! So Fluttershy it is!

She smiled happily, bouncing toward Fluttershy's house, glad to be alive on such a lovely autumn morning. Sbe spared one last thought for Discord.

I really hope his inner self can talk some sense into him!

Chapter 2: An Unpleasant Prospect

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In a place which was really no place, in a time which was no particular time, Discord brooded.

His home was a pocket dimension he had formed out of the raw stuff of Chaos, held together by a minor but continuing exercise of his power. He had shaped this place out of his dreams and memories, and it was always a soothing place to which he might return, especially to think.

It was not as bizarre a realm as one might have supposed from the nature of its master. Discord needed a contrast against which to shine, and Discord's Domain seemed deceptively normal toward the center. There was a house on a grassy plateau overlooking a river, and all around rose low, tree-covered mountains. Sometimes it could be a very strange place indeed, at Discord's whim, but right now Discord really didn't feel like being at all creative.

If one looked carefully, of course, one would notice that the visual horizon really was the end of the world, and that the details diminished as one moved away from the central house -- a pleasant little walled mansion compound, whose structures ranged in height from one to two stories. Its architecture was alien to modern Equestria, but thosands of years ago, in two separate eras, the place on which Discord had modeled it -- after he had destroyed its original -- had been the center of what civilization survived upon the Earth.

The two Royal Pony Sisters would have recognized this place immediately, for they had spent their earliest years in their current incarnations here, learned there the lost lore of the Reclamation and of the Age of Wonders They had not had the heart to rebuild it, but had built their first great castle near its ruins, the better to watch the Nexus which made this place special.

Discord had formed for his domain the land of his own childhood, which he had spent with them here. Oh, he remodeled it, destroyed it, warped it into all sorts of fantastic and interesting shapes. But always he restored it to this form, because it was the last place in which he had ever known any real, sustained happiness

He had recreated Paradise Estate in the Void.

Now, the master of Discord Estate had returned home.

He stood before his house, brooding a while.

Then with frightening swiftness the sky was riven by impossibly vast lightning bolts. The mountains quivered like jelly, wobbling before the thunder of these detonations. The trees upon them launched themselves, blazing, to crisscross overhead like fireworks. The air itself became as thick as gelatin, assumed various improbable and in some cases impossible chemical compositions, then spontaneously generated what looked like a fantastic ecology that blossomed and died around him Then the hills melted into jelly, into lava, became fire-fountains.

Only Discord, and his Estate, remained untouched by these changes.

With a look of exasperation and one casual wave of his lion's paw, Discord banished them, and the valley returned to its default state. Pointless, he thought. Utterly pointless.

He made another gesture and suddenly the lawn was full of Ponies, of all three Kinds and various hues, though all of them were mares. They frolicked about happily, conversing about nothing. Discord smiled to see them. He'd killed their originals, of course, but he still terribly missed them from time to time. Back then he'd been in the first flush of his power -- he hadn't yet realized that if one broke one's toys, one limited one's opportunities for further play.

Two new mares wandered onto the scene. They were Alicorns, with both horns and wings, powerful and graceful. The first was white of coat and pink of mane, with a subtle color gradation that had would in time, Discord knew, become a pastel rainbow. She was larger than the others -- though nowhere near as much larger as she would one day become, and in mid-adolescence. Her build was still fillyish, but graceful. Especially when she walked, she was heart-breakingly beautiful.

Impossibly beautiful, incredibly good, he thought. I should have known just by looking at her What she really was. What we all were. But I was spared that. When she was that age, I was no older, and I knew nothing. And was the happier for it.

The second, her sister, had a dark blue coat and light-blue mane. She was younger -- in early adolescence -- and smaller -- the size of the other Ponies, though there was a certain gawkiness about her and size to her feet that made it obvious that she had a lot of growing left to do. She seemed more awkward than her older sister -- but it was a subtle and purely social thing, for she moved with extreme efficiency, as if her body was were a fine musical instrument for her to play.

Or a weapon for her to wield. But she didn't think much in those terms, yet. Discord remembered. That came later. After we all found out the truth.

They looked in some ways not very unlike the way they would look twenty-five centuries later. The difference was in the eyes. Their real models, today, bore the strain and melancholy of all those weary years on the Earth, fighting for their little Ponies, too often failing. Oh, they'd been awesomely intelligent, even back then, but they hadn't yet learned the cruelties of the world. The eyes of Discord's ghosts, recalled out of his fond memories, held nothing but kindness -- love -- innocence.

Discord smiled with unfeigned warmth at their beauty. For a moment his heart was touched by the shadow of the joy it had once known in the presence of their originals.

Shall I make them a companion? Discord thought. Someone else unusual, like them, though not as pretty? A best friend, with whom to play? The thought briefly appealed to him.

Then he realized why it would be just too sad to watch. Especially the way he felt right now.

He banished the ghosts. Alicorns and normal Ponies, they simply shimmered and vanished.

Discord sighed and a bizarrely-shaped tree, with a reddish-purple bole, an incredibly-simple dual branch structure like something a child would doodle, and purple tuftlike masses of leaves on the end of its main bole and two branches grew up out of nowhere. Its original had come, copied many times over, from a set of children's books, some of the ones which an alien visitor had given to this place, a visitor who had seen a shattered species, a race about to perish under the pressure of impossibly-vicious predation. She'd come to love that race, and decided to make it her business to save them. And she'd succeeded, beyond what must have been her wildest dreams.

It had not been one of the more practical books, not one of the ones on technology or warfare, or even ethics or law, but it had been one of his own favorites growing up. The author of those books had called herself (Discord assumed her to be female, for she must have been a leader of her kind) Dr. Seuss.

Discord sometimes wished he'd met Dr. Seuss. Or Megan. He was pretty sure that they were interesting beings. Though, on reflection, he might not have enjoyed an encounter with Megan. By repute she'd been a fearless and frighteningly-capable slayer of monsters.

Monsters like himself.

He coiled his way up onto the largest branch of his thinking tree. Gripping the branch to hold on was easy, automatic. He could fall asleep in this position, and awake still firmly grasping the living wood. He'd done so many times.

He didn't feel sleepy right now.

He was furious at Fluttershy. She's the one that betrayed me, he reminded himself. Pretending to be my friend, to care about me, to love me -- only to gallop right into the embrace of that stupid stallion! He almost started another Chaos Storm just from thinking about it, then remembered that doing so wouldn't solve anything -- wouldn't even really make him feel any better.

She's just like Celly, he thought. Celly told me she loved me, only to betray me and turn against me when -- oh wait, no, I was the one who betrayed and turned on her. Well, I destroyed Paradise Estate and killed almost everyone she'd known. That would count as betrayal, right? Yes, I suppose so, if one looks at it a certain way. I can see why she's still mad at me over that.

And if we're going to get technical, I then proceeded to subject the Earth to a thousand years of chaos (an improvement, I thought, but most of the Ponies didn't appreciate it much). Which I guess Celly didn't like, given how much time and effort Celly and Lulu put into fighting me. It did slow down the multi-millennial plan to raise Ponykind back up to the heights of the Age of Wonders, I suppose. Which was kind of important to them. So yes, they have a bit of a grudge against me there.

And, hmm, the Sun's been getting a little wobbly these last few centuries. Worse since I had that really wild day when I was first free again. Sundreamer's little clockwork geocentric Solar System may have been damaged a bit. I guess she's probably annoyed by that too. Not that I meant to do that ...

But Fluttershy? What did I ever do to Fluttershy to make her hate me? Or at least make her not want to come to me, first, if she was looking for wild passionate love? Which amounts to the same thing, doesn't it? He pondered this conundrum.

It's true that the first time I met her, I took over her mind and raped her soul and accidentally fathered an immaculately-conceived child on her who is now sleeping inside her in another dimension. But these things happen. I didn't really know her then -- I'd never treat her like this now. Well, I probably wouldn't, because I don't think she'd like to be treated like that.

Anyway, Fluttershy doesn't even know Fluttercruel exists. Does she? And who expects everything to go swimmingly on a first date?

He thought a bit more.

It's not about the sex, he thought virtuously, a halo briefly appearing over his head. I can get plenty of that from my imagination. This was especially the case, since his imagination could produce temporary but real physical objects, including living beings. All I want from her is her eternal adoration. Is that so much to ask?

He squirmed his body around into a more comfortable position. Or at least a different one.

I should hate her for this. But I can't hate her. I can't even harm her. What in the name of the Gap is wrong with me?

He grinned savagely.

I can hate him, though. I can hurt him, when her geas wears off. Which it will, because she's not going to remember to keep renewing it. She'll think that I forgave him -- because forgiving is what she does, but I can hold my anger in, pretend to be all sweet and nice and tolerant, until the moment when I strike and ...

He saw the flaw in his plan. His face fell.

... and she finds out that I've done this and she hates me forever, and it'll be just like with Celly, I won't have a friend, just another on my depressingly-long list of immortal enemies, starting with all my closest kin, both Family and Cousins, and working its way down to a whole roster call of lesser Cosmic beings and sub-Cosmic spirits.

For Discord had long since realized what Fluttershy really was, smelled the tell-tale traces of Gaia where she lay curled up impossibly small within his friend. He knew that Fluttershy was a nascent Alicorn. Part of his great joy at having won her friendship was the hope that they could have a very, very long time together.

A hope now turned to ashes.

Discord sighed. What can I do? he wondered. Do I pretend that this never happened? But she'll probably keep sleeping with that -- barely sapient creature -- and it'll hurt me every time she rubs my nose in it. The fact that Fluttershy wouldn't actually be trying to hurt him, that she would probably be trying to reconcile two males, both of whom she loved. made it all the worse, because among other things it put himself on the same level as a depressingly ordinary Pony. Or do I seek my revenge -- and get everypony mad at me?

Depending on just what he did by way of revenge, this might range from Fluttershy refusing to speak to him, to Celestia and Luna coming against him in full battle array. And though he'd easily overcome the Sisters the last time, he knew they probably by now had a backup plan for if -- or, knowing Luna's ungenerous but depressingly-cunning little mind, when he betrayed them.

Anyway, Fluttershy refusing to speak to him was bad enough. Beacause of who she was. And what she was.

Even killing her wouldn't stop her being mad at me, Discord realized. She'd just respawn in a few centuries, even less inclined to want to cuddle.

Unless I consumed her. And f I did that, she'd be inside me, being mad at me, forever.

What can I do? he asked himself again. Himself didn't have any good answers.

Oh no, wait, there is a "myself" who always has good answers. Though she doesn't like me very much. What is it about some mares that makes them hold grudges against you for more than twenty-five hundred years?

But she has to listen to me. She doesn't really have much of a choice. And she loves to solve problems. And she's very smart. Discord smiled at the prospect of finding an answer to his dilemma.

Then he frowned. He was remembering just why he didn't like to talk to her.

She's so sarcastic! He shuddered to himself at certain memories. And judgemental! And hostile! I hate talking to her!

But then, there was nopony better if he wanted wise counsel.

No, he had to speak to her. His own personal Voice of Reason.

Swallowing his pride (it tasted like honeyed almonds), he took a firm grip on the branch. He rolled his eyes back into his head, went into a trance ...

And dived headlong into himself.

Chapter 3: A Shocking Revelation

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Twilight Sparkle was just getting into a good book, The Life and Times of a Tragic Pony, which purported to be the autobiography of High Lady Shadow Kicker in the Lunar Rebellion of the early 7th century YOH. She was getting really excited, because this was a 14th-century unabridged version, that left in all the juicy bits. She was practically salivating over one of those juicy bits, the complete minutes of the Council at which the Pegasus Ephors decided on the organization of their revived Mandate -- and was practically in ecstasy when she realized that this edition's appendices had a summarization of the complete pre-Discordian Laws of Lyequinigus, compiled from both Derechan and Pegasopolian sources complete with a historiographic commentary!

Wow, she thought, fanning her flushed cheeks with her wings, after coming down from a particularly intense analysis. I now know how to formulate my laws if I ever want to lead a Pegasus Rebellion. Which I don't, really, but it's knowing that's the important part. I'm a Princess, I should know how to form separatist states if necessary! I wonder if Luna wants to hear about this? Though the civil war of the early 7th century was known as the "Lunar Rebellion" because the Ephors had claimed Luna as their commander, in point of fact Princess Luna had been trapped on the Moon for over a hundred years at that point, being tortured by the Night Shadows. Political history was funny that way, sometimes.

She'll probably like the military organizational details and battle-descriptions more, Twilight decided. She's really into combat. Which of course she should be, she's our High Lady of War, after all. And she's so good at it too ... some of the conversations we've had, the things she's taught me about fighting with everything from bladed sabatons to siege engines to those sunfire missiles Moondreamer designed back in the Age of Wonders ... she's awesome. She's always willing to listen to me talk about my interests, too ... magic and organization and the meaning of life ... Twilight fondly remembered long and intense conversations in Ponyville, at the Palace of Canterlot ...

She improved my organizational skills, too. That talk we had about the opportunity costs of excessive organizing and the problem with recursive checklists ... it's easy to see that she handled the logistics back in the Time of Thrones. And she told me how she was re-organizing the Guards ... modernizing weapons and tactics, eliminating some of the dead wood or kicking them into make-work posts ... some of her ideas reminded me of things Shiny used to talk to me about. Actually, she's a lot like Shiny, only more melancholy, and, well, feminine, and ... she felt a bit disloyal admitting this, smarter.

She smiled.

She can be fun, too. She showed me how to use those strange crescent swords of hers, and some of her exercises ... watching her with her blades, it's like seeing some kind of dance. She's so smooth and graceful and deadly and beautiful and ...

Twilight was blushing again, and she was not certain why, but she didn't think it had to do with the Laws of Lycinequigus.

It was at that moment that Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy fell down from the ceiling of her study.

"Aagh!" cried Twilight in shock.

"Eeep!" cried Fluttershy as she fell right on Twilight's back, bounced off, and then managed to get her wings working just before hitting the ground, coming to a more or less graceful landing on the floor.

"Woo-hoo!" cried Pinkie, not wanting to be left out of this shouting game. She hit the floor head first, bounced several times on her head as if it were a rubber ball, and then lay flat on her back grinning, her eyes rotating independently in her sockets as if she were some sort of life-sized pink pony doll ... and Twilight could almost swear she could see actual stylized stars, much like the five small white ones in Twilight's own cutie mark, orbiting Pinkie's head. "Let's do that again!" Pinkie shrieked happily.

Twilight looked up at the ceiling from force of habit. The skylight was closed and unbroken.

"How'd you get in here?" she asked, though she suspected the answer would make no sense.

"Well I had to get Fluttershy over here really fast and I didn't want to go through the streets cuz he could see us and your library has wards and so I went sideways the squeezy purple kind of way!" Pinkie Pie explained.

Twilight tried again.

"Fluttershy, how did you get in here?" Twilight asked.

Fluttershy had a totally shocked look on her face, eyes wide and pupils pinpoints.

"I have absolutely no idea," she said in a small breathy voice. "But it was very frightening. I don't want to think about it too hard, is that okay?" she asked Twilight.

Twilight sniffed. There was an odd sort of odor about Fluttershy, like a combination of sweaty mare, sweaty stallion, hot cocoa, ammonia and ozone. It was unpleasant, distracting and not exactly like anything she had ever smelled before. Pinkie Pie, by contrast, smelled only of candy, mare and ozone.

"You need a bath," Twilight commented to Fluttershy, almost without thinking. "What have you been rolling in?"

As soon as she was finished speaking, Twilight regretted her words, because Fluttershy began bawling like a little filly, putting her head to the ground and covering her face with her own front hooves. Twilight immediately felt as if she had played hackey-sack with a whole litter of puppies. Fluttershy's tears had that kind of effect on most sapient life.

The door to the study opened and Spike walked in, holding some cardboard boxes with Rarity's imprint on them.

"Hey," he said. "I got back from the Boutique, heard some voices -- hi Pinkie, Fluttershy." He looked at Twilight. "Why's Fluttershy crying?"

"I don't know!" protested Twilight Sparkle, feeling as if she needed to defend herself from an accusation nopony had actually made. The power of Fluttershy's tears still had her in its grasp. "Fluttershy smells strange and I said she should take a bath and she just started crying!"

"Wow," said Spike. "You must have been pretty harsh about her needing a bath." He put the boxes down safely in a corner, walked over to Fluttershy, took a whiff. Dragons had extremely good senses of smell, better even than Ponies. "Oh." he said flatly. Then he blushed crimson, obviously coming to some sort of realization. "Oh. Yeah, I think I know how you upset her." He made for the door.

"Wait!" said Twilight. "Where are you going?"

"To get Rarity," Spike said, glancing back at Twilight. "She's good with the emotional stuff. She'll know how to make Fluttershy feel better." He trotted rapidly away.

"But ..." Twilight asked. "Why's Fluttershy upset?"

Spike's retreating back supplied no answers, only a brief image of bright green spikes against purple scales, before he stepped out of view and began going down the stairs.

Twilight was torn between chasing after her Number One Assistant, who seemed remarkably eager to depart the premises, and leaving an obviously-distraught Fluttershy in Pinkie Pie's uncertain care.

Pinkie decided to answer the question.

"She's upset because what you asked her is what she's been rolling in which was mean and I don't know why you're being a meanie because normally you're super nice and what she was rolling in was Bulkie because they were sort of sitting in a tree and k-i-s-s-i-n-g," she sniffed at Fluttershy and giggled. "Only I think a lot more than just that," she added, grinning impishly, "but then Dissy stopped by and he was all mad and stuff because he thinks she's his filly-friend and then Bulk ran and I caught him and put him somewhere safe so Dissy couldn't hurt him cuz on the lines where he does that Equestria falls and everypony dies and nopony can get a good strawberry-icing-topped cupcake anywhere ..." she paused to take a breath, "... and anyway I don't want Bulkie to die cuz that would be sad." She pondered what she'd just said. "Dissy's being mean today," was her final judgement.

It took Twilight a moment to run that long statement through the Pinkie-to-Equestrian translator she'd been forming in part of her mind over the last four years. When she finsished doing so, she felt extreme surprise.

"Wait," she said, "Fluttershy and Bulk Biceps are lovers?"

Pinkie nodded enthusiastically. "Yep!" she said. "And it's so sweet and ...".

"And Discord caught them together?" Twilight asked quickly, not wanting to hear a long Hearts and Hooves Day style dissertation on what a cute couple Fluttershy and Bulk made.

She nodded again. "And boy was he mad ..."

"I see," said Twilight. This implied that Discord also felt a romantic attraction toward Fluttershy. She thought about this in the context of some nightmares she'd had about, and an extremely embarrassing conversation she'd once had with Discord, and remembered the salient point she'd learned. "At least Discord's not likely to force Fluttershy."

Fluttershy raised her head at this. "Of course he won't hurt me," she said, with quiet confidence. "He loves me."

Twilight wasn't entirely sure of that, but didn't think that now was the time to get into a protracted conversation with Fluttershy regarding the nature of male ego and jealousy -- a topic upon which Twilight's own knowledge was mostly theoretical, given that she'd never been seriously courted by any stallion. Rarity really would be better handling that part of it.

"But he wants to hurt Bulk!" Fluttershy cried, her face fearful.

More afraid for the stallion than for herself, thought Twilight. Yep. That's love. Oh, dear. Twilight's political problems, in what she sometimes caught herself imagining as her little theoretical demesne held from Princess Celestia, had just gotten a bit more complicated.

"But he can't hurt Bulk, silly!" Pinkie Pie said, walking over and smiling down at Fluttershy. "He's safe now!"

"Where is he?" asked Fluttershy frantically. "Can I see him? I need to explain --"

"He's --" Pinkie began.

"Wait," said Twilight. Her horn glowed briefly. A tracery of fire moved through the library's walls as she renewed her wards, tuned them specifically against the only Draconequus she knew for sure existed upon the Earth at the present moment. Then she turned to Pinkie. "Continue."

"He's on the farm with my family cuz I told Claire to pick him up and she was super nice so she picked him up through a Gate and Granny's probably meeting him right now and putting him right in the center of her best wards and maybe he'll laugh and sing and play and make flower-chains with Inkie and Blinkie!" Then she looked at Fluttershy. "Um, you know. Just as a friend."

Pinkie emphasized the last part, to make sure that Fluttershy understood that there would be no hanky-panky going on, and would hence be unworried about anypony stealing her colt-friend. Pinkie Pie was a sophisticated mare of the world, who understood all about such considerations.

"Was he all right when you last saw him?" Fluttershy asked, starting to calm down a little.

"Well, actually he was screaming ..." began Pinkie.

"Eep!" gasped Fluttershy.

"... but that was just cuz I forgot to tell him about the Gate or Claire or the Rock Farm so maybe he was a bit scared when she picked him up."

"You think?" asked Twilight. Claire was an invisible, eight-headed giant fluffy pony with tentacular tongues, and Claire's normal way of picking somepony up was to wrap a few of those tongues around him and literally pick up that Pony. She was also incredibly gentle and sweet-natured, but if one didn't know this in advance, one was apt to be somewhat surprised at the first touch of those long, wet, powerful tubes of muscle. Especially when being dragged through a dimensional portal. While being hunted by something else who could drag one through dimensional portals.

"Yep!" nodded Pinkie enthusiastically. "I really do think that's why his last words to me were 'Aieee!'" She then looked at the horrified Fluttershy. "Or something to that effect," she clarified.

"I'm sure he's fine," said Twilight to Fluttershy. "Claire's really nice, you know that."

"But Bulk doesn't," pointed out Fluttershy. "And he can get -- startled."

Pegasi did not like to admit to being scared of anything, and though Fluttershy and Bulk were both rather strange Pegasi, they were still Pegasi.

"I'm sure Granny Pie will talk to him and he'll get over being startled," said Twilight reassuringly. She lowered her head, massaged her forehead with her right hoof, tried to think clearly. She was still having some trouble wrapping her mind around the concept of Fluttershy actually having a lover, in a sense more serious than the strange romantic-tinged friendship Fluttershy had had with Rainbow Dash since long before Twilight had met them. Which had, come to think of it, lasted all the way through other disruptive events, such as Rainbow meeting Sky.a couple of years ago.

Twilight kind of hoped that this new development wouldn't spoil that friendship. She didn't like to think of her friends drifting apart.

"I think we should all have a conference here at the library," Twilight decided. "Pinkie Pie, can you round up Applejack? I'll get Rainbow Dash."

"Ooh, great idea, Twilight!" agreed Pinkie Pie, bouncing up and down. "We can all have a 'Dissy's jealous of Bulkie' party here at the library! I'll get Applejack, and some cakes, and balloons, and ... whee!"

Pinkie bounded away for the door before Twilight could react to her last words, say something along the lines of No, wait, I didn't really mean a party.

In any case, it's not as if Pinkie would have listened unless Twilight got really insistent. And she wasn't sure she had the energy to deal with this development.

"Fluttershy --"

"Yes, Twilight?" asked Fluttershy very seriously.

"You're welcome to use my shower. You actually do need to clean up. Trust me on this."

"All right." Fluttershy went into the bathroom.

Twilight was relieved that, her secret now out and Bulk's safety assured, Fluttershy was starting to calm down. She didn't know if she could take any more of Fluttershy's tears. They should be weaponized.

Then, thinking of Discord, she realized that they more or less had been. And that it had been Celestia's idea. Which made her wonder ... but there was no time for that. She had to bring everypony together before something awful could happen.

Climbing to her bedroom, she stepped out onto the balcony and launched herself into the air, looking for Rainbow Dash.

Chapter 4: The Original Occupant

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Discord materialized within the landscape of his own mind.

Discord's mind was very large, and very ill-organized, like a vast house, built over centuries and inhabited for millennia by generations of occupants, each of whom furnished it according to his own tastes and engaged in random architectural modifications. Assume that more than half of these tenants were utterly insane, and that the decor was not limited by normal physics, and one will have as fair a picture of Discord's incarnate brain as one can have without going utterly insane oneself.

His Cosmic Self, of course, would drive one mad if I were to adequately describe it. So I shan't even make the attempt.

This particular portion of his mind might be likened to a large suite of rooms which had been inhabited by the same tenant for a very long time: over six thousand years -- longer than Discord had been alive in this incarnation. This was possible because she'd been in this brain longer than had Discord himself.

She was a highly-intellectual, very orderly tenant. Books and maps lined the walls, each in its proper place and giving the impression of a vast implicit reason for each one of those items to be there. They were interspersed with many pictures of all Five Kinds, including the two who were now thought of as the Lost Kinds, and many other creatures. In several prominent places were portraits of the same individual -- a bipedal creature with a bare, peach-colored skin, blonde mane and blue eyes.

In the portraits she looked friendly, but very highly determined, as if anything that stood in her way should probably move or get trampled. Discord knew from the histories he had read growing up on Paradise Estate that numerous hostile creatures who hadn't moved, had been trampled so thoroughly that their names had vanished from all histories save those kept in Paradise Estate itself. Some of them had previously been worshiped as gods: the Megan was still so worshiped in many locations, though her true nature had long since been forgotten.

Such was The Megan, the other being who had been most emotionally important to the oriinal occupant of Discord's body. The Megan had not been the original occupant of Discord's body -- if she had been, Discord was fairly sure that he would have wound up the one living in the back of her mind, rather than the other way round. Or simply being knocked back out of incarnation to the Cosmic level. According to the legends, she had a habit of doing things like that.

The Megan had been an early-adolescent when Paradise Estate had known her. Discord knew that, based on the time ratio between their universes, she was probably in her prime right now. There had been a time he had hoped to invade her universe, but -- looking at the portraits of her, it was probably better for him that he hadn't been able to do so. He might have gotten trampled. He didn't know how, but neither had any of the other powerful beings whom she'd defeated. Until she did so.

The bookshelves were in places inconveniently high for anything bound by gravity, and the accesses between rooms sometimes difficult, possibly only by climbing up or down steep, narrow ladders. Discord wasn't inconvenienced: he just fluttered his mismatched wings and the conceptual equivalent of his flight field let him pass from room to room. This was, of course, essentially what the occupant of these rooms did, as she was a Pegasus.

As Discord made his way toward the room within which was the occupant, he could not entirely suppress a shudder of horror at the sheer rationality and order of this apartment. It bespoke a mind very much unlike his own, a mind which thought in a very rigid and uncompromising, non-contradictory sort of manner. The truly frightening thing was how effective was that mind. Discord knew that the only reason he'd beaten her was because of his superior psychic power. On a level playing field, she would have outwitted him ten times over.

Discord wanted so very badly to change the decor. Make the rooms link in infinite loops, randomize the books, turn all the portraits into pictures of melting watches and gorillas in tutus. But here, in what should have been the main cognitive center of his own brain, here was the one place where he had no such power. She controlled these rooms, and while she couldn't actually hurt or confine him within them, anything he did to them she could reverse with a trivial effort of will. Ahd he couldn't really hurt her either, nor could he confine her save within this suite itself.

It was all so very unfair. A Draconequus ought to be able to be the master of his own mind.

Even if it had, originally, been hers.

The last room he entered was almost entirely filled from end to end -- and its measurements were both vast and rather vague -- with a complex, glowing multi-dimensional model. Focusing his full senses on the model, he perceived it to be an incredibly complex structure of lines that bundled, split, extruded sparks from one bundle or line to another, and occasionally merged. Within each line at any point there were worlds, galaxies, empires and individuals.

Many of the individuals he recognized. He could see himselves, Celestias, Lunas and many, many other beings, too many for even him to grasp at the same time. Some of the selves were identical from one line to the next. Some, however, were very different.

It was a map of the Multiverse. For a moment even Discord paused and gaped in awe at its beauty and complexity.

The other occupant of the room, of course, was the pegasus. As he entered, she was in the process of making a minute adjustment to one small part of the model.

"Ah, that's much better," she muttered. She landed on the conceptual "floor." Then she slowly, unhurriedly turned to face him.

Her coat was powder-blue. Her neatly but simply styled mane was purplish-pink. There was something about her which said that she would tolerate absolutely no nonsense. On her long and rather beautiful tail was her one concession to ordinary femininity -- a white bow that enticingly half-concealed her hindquarters as she shifted position. Her Cutie Mark was visible as she turned into profile -- three pink and three blue whistles.

Reddish-pink eyes came up to look into his own. They could be friendly eyes, he knew that from some of his earliest memories. They could be kind eyes -- he remembered that they had usually looked upon the young incarnate Celestia and Luna with extreme kindness. They had rarely looked at him with much kindness -- she hadn't had the knowledge then she had now, living inside his own mind, but some rational faculty within her had processed what he was the moment she saw him as a foal, the moment he had been impossibly born from Shady, and categorized him not as the new "Baby Shady" but as a threat. Interloper. Predator.

She had been right, of course. Too bad for her that she didn't understand the reason why until he fully woke up, until Luna woke up too because she'd been walking in his dreams, until he donned the mantle of his full incarnate power. Too bad for the Pony who stood before him that -- for all her famous ruthlessness, her devotion to pure reason -- killing a helpless foal, and one born of her own herd, was something strictly forbidden her by her ironclad code of honor, her unyielding morality.

He knew that if she had understood what he was, she might have tried to kill him anyway. And she would have done a proper job of it, too -- caught him in wards whose only way out led to the Cosmic level, where his own kin would have grabbed his soul with glad cries and dragged it off to indescribable torment.

Discord had a lot of enemies, and his own family were among his most persistent.

"Discord," the Pegasus said, her eyes contemptuous upon him, as always. "You've obviously done something seriously stupid, or are about to do something seriously stupid. Otherwise you wouldn't be here to see me. How have you botched things this time?"

There was no fear in those eyes. There was never any fear in those eyes. He remembered when he had killed her, over twenty-five hundred years ago. There had been no fear in those eyes then, only a cold and grim determination.

She was the epitome of rational courage. Fearless, but not because she didn't understand the dangers. Because she scorned the very notion of letting fear affect her ability to think clearly.

To her friends, she was intensely loyal. To her foes, utterly pitiless. She was a coldly calculating engine of creation and destruction, in equine form, with a pretty white bow on her tail.

There was -- and hopefully never would be -- any other Pony quite like her. For the day that any large number of Ponies ever became like her, Discord knew, their species would rule the Universe.

"Hello, Wind Whistler," he said. "Nice to see you too."

Chapter 5: Twilight's Council

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Twilight Sparkle found Rainbow Dash sleeping on a nearby cloud.

"Rainbow," she said, "you need to come to the library right away ..."

"Mmphgurgle," was Rainbow Dash's drowsy reply.

"Discord caught Fluttershy with Bulk Biceps and --- yow!"

Rainbow's eyes snapped wide open. "Aw, crap," she said, and streaked at high speed toward the Golden Oaks Library, leaving her usual rainbow-colored contrail.

Twilight did several involuntary somersaults in Rainbow's wake, then straightened out to follow after the Pegasus.

As she caught up, Rainbow asked "Where's 'Shy?"

"Showering in my bathroom," Twilight replied. "Don't scare her."

"I won't," assured Rainbow.

They landed on the balcony. Twilight touched the building with her horn. A tracery of pale purplish-red fire crawled over the outside. "Wards still up," she said. "She's safe."

Rainbow nodded. "Any dead yet? Or wounded?"

"No, to both" said Twilight, then looked at Rainbow Dash with newfound respect. "You've been expecting this."

"Oh, yeah," Rainbow affirmed. "In character."

"I didn't know you'd been studying Discord," said Twilight, opening the balcony door.

"Studying?" Rainbow's voice was scornful. "Me? Nah."

"Then how did you ...?"

"I know how jerks think," said Rainbow bluntly. "And Discord's a jerk." They stepped inside. Twilight renewed the wards.

"What do you think Discord will do?" asked Twilight. She could hear with some relief the sound of the shower still running.

"Something jerky," said Rainbow. "I don't know. Gilda would usually tear up pillows or drop molasses on somegriff. Minor vandalism and other pranks. I even thought it was funny, at the time. But Discord?" she shrugged.

"He could tear up mountains or cover cities in boiling lava," speculated Twilight, her face frightened as she tried to consider all the possibilities, and wound up damaging her own sanity with the speculations.

"Or not," pointed out Rainbow. "Sometimes Gilda could be a total sweetie about stuff that woulda set me off. Jerks are unpredictable. And Discord's an A-1 jerk."

"How do you feel about all this?" Twilight asked Rainbow.

"What, Discord being all jealous over `Shy and Bulkie? Told ya, he's a jerk," said Rainbow.

"No, I mean Fluttershy's ... um ... relationship with Bulk Biceps," Twilight clarified, keeping her voice low.

"Oh, I've known about that for the last coupla months. Known it's been serious for the last week." She looked curiously at Twilight. "What, you didn't notice it?"

"Well ... no," admitted Twilight, looking down sheepishly.

"Oh, come on Twilight -- they were all over each other on the train to the Crystal Empire. And on the way back ..."

"Actually, I didn't see much of them on the way back ... oh," said Twilight, coloring as she belatedly realized the implications of their protracted mutual absences from the team car.

"Yeah," said Rainbow Dash shortly, looking away.

Twilight noticed that her friend did not seem entirely happy about this aspect of the situation.

"Are you all right with this?" Twilight asked her.

"With Discord being a jerk? No, but what I can I do about it 'cept stick with 'Shy to keep her safe?" replied Rainbow Dash, looking at the closed bathroom door.

Twilight was not the Element of Honesty, but she could recognize evasion when she saw it.

"No ... I mean Fluttershy with ... I thought you and her were kind of ... close." It took an effort on her part to talk about this so openly, but she wanted to make sure that Rainbow wasn't hiding any deep-seated resentments on the matter.

Rainbow looked up at Twilight, mouth pursed tight, suddenly looking a decade older. For a moment she was silent.

"Yeah," Rainbow said. "We were kind of close. Still are, in many ways. What's your point?"

"So you're not jealous of ..." Twilight began to ask.

Rainbow stomped a hoof on the floor.

"Of course I am!" she said loudly. Then, moderating her tone. "But I'm not going to be a big jerk toward 'Shy about it, not when she needs me like this."

Twilight looked at her quizzically.

"I hate talking about mushy stuff," said Rainbow, "so I'll say this all once and be done with it. I've lo ... liked Fluttershy loads and loads since we were little fillies together. Of course I have. How can you know 'Shy and not ... like her? She's sweet and beautiful and gentle and kind ... all the things I'm not and never can be. She's like ... like some sort of goddess descended to share our skies, walk our world. From the moment I saw her I knew that it was my job to protect her, keep her safe from jerks who wanted to hurt her cuz they were jealous of what she was. Understand?"

Twilight nodded.

"I haven't always been there for her when she needed me," Rainbow continued, "like when she was sixteen ..." Rainbow looked at Twilight significantly, then snorted at the blank look she got from the Alicorn. "Don't ask her about that. Let her tell you if and when she feels comfortable with it. Seriously, you'll just wind up hurting her."

"Okay," said Twilight. "I don't want to hurt her."

Rainbow accepted the reassurance.

"So I'm not perfect," Rainbow admitted. "But I try to be there when she needs me. And, well, sometimes our friendship has been pretty ... strong," she said. "Somtimes it's been more like ... well ... mushy. Physical, even." Now Rainbow was blushing brightly. "But not dirty," Rainbow quickly added. "Nothing could be dirty with her. Aaagh, I hate talking about this stuff!

"Anyway," she continued, "the physical thing's been pretty much on and off. I'm not that much into it, I dunno, never really have been. And 'Shy ... it's more important to her, you understand? And the mushy stuff."

Twilight looked briefly shocked.

"She's shy," Rainbow said. "But she's warm, if she trusts you enough. I ... I can't explain it. Really don't want to."

"You don't have to," Twilight said. "I think I understand."

"Well, so then you got it," said Rainbow. "It's just that ... we kind of drifted apart on the mushy stuff. And now she's into Bulk. Which is okay. Bulkie's an okay guy. One 'a the nicest you could know. I like that big lug -- just don't tell him I said that, okay?"

"I won't."

"And 'Shy and me?" Rainbow said. "We love each other. Always have, always will. It's not about being physical or mushy, that stuff can be nice, but what's more important is that we look out for each other. That's what love really is. And friendship. And they're not too different from each other, if you get my point."

"I do," said Twilight softly, looking at Rainbow Dash with admiration.

"Fluttershy -- she's gone a bit beyond me, just like you have," Rainbow said. "She's becoming something -- I don't know what, maybe an Alicorn like you, maybe something else, the goddess I've always known she really was since I met her in Flight Camp. But whatever she becomes, where ever she goes, I'm gonna love her, and I'm gonna be there for her. Can I stop talking about this touchy-feely stuff now?" she asked, face completely red.

"Yes," said Twilight Sparkle. She stepped over to Rainbow Dash and gave her a big hug, holding the blue pegasus despite her startled protests and half-struggles. "Thank you," she said.

"For what?" Rainbow asked, so startled by this that she stopped struggling.

"For being you," replied Twilight, smiling warmly right into Rainbow's face. "That's all. And it's more than enough."

"Um -- you're welcome?" said Rainbow in some confusion, and briefly returned the hug. Then she pulled back. "Okay. No more mushy stuff."

They separated, and noticed that the bathroom door was open. Fluttershy was standing there, a purple towel wrapped around her mane like a turban, smiling at them.

"Hi," she said.

Rainbow promptly contradicted her previously stated desire by running over and hugging Fluttershy. Her friend looked surprised for a moment, then happily returned Rainbow's affection.

"Feeling better?" asked Twilight.

Fluttershy nodded. "I know Bulkie's safe," she said, "and nopony's actually been hurt, have they?" Her voice got a little anxious toward the end of that statement.

"Not as far as I know," Twilight said. "And I think if Discord was going to do anything violent, we'd have noticed by now."

"I think he was just surprised," said Fluttershy. "Don't be too mad at Discord -- it was maybe my fault for not telling him beforehand."

"Oh yeah," said Rainbow Dash, "like that would have helped matters."

"Communication always helps between friends," Fluttershy assured them.

Rainbow Dash looked doubtfully at her.

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening.

"I see, darling," came the familiar voice of Rarity from the main hall. "You were right to hurry. I hope she's feeling better now."

"I'm sure she's over the shock by now," replied the even more familiar voice of Spike.

"Now, Spike," chided Rarity. "Not everyone's a big tough dragon like you!" There was the sound of a hoof scraping gently over semi-metallic scales.

Twilight stepped out to the head of the stairs and looked down to see Rarity and Spike at the foot.

"Hello," Twilight said. "Thank you for making it over here on such short notice." She walked down the stairs.

"Think nothing of it," said Rarity. "I'm always willing to take time out for friends." She looked up to where Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash were standing at the railing. "Are you feeling better, darling?" she asked Fluttershy.

"I'm okay," replied Fluttershy, smiling slightly. She was still wearing the towel on her head.

"All right," said Twilight. "We'll meet in the main hall." She stepped over to the main table, Rarity joined her. Fluttershy and Rainbow hopped down from the second story. "Pinkie's off getting Applejack."

As she said this, Pinkie and Applejack tumbled down from the ceiling.

This time it was a longer drop. Applejack cried "Yee-hah!", flipped in midair, bent her knees and executed a perfect energy-absorbing landing on all four hooves simultaneously.

Pinkie Pie again landed headfirst, bounced around the room several times, then came to a stop, giggling. "I knew this would be fun to do again!"

"Aren't you even a mite bruised from doing that?" Applejack asked her pink friend curiously.

"Nope!" squeaked Pinkie, tapping her head, her hoof rebounding elastically. "It's rubber!"

"Is that even anatomically possible?" wondered Twilight aloud.

"Now, Twilight, don't be a meanie," Pinkie chided her. "Lampshading spoils the joke!"

Twilight shrugged. She had more important matters to consider than Pinkie being Pinkie. And from some of what Celestia had taught her about quantum event determination, she thought that Pinkie might be completely serious about lampshading spoiling the joke. And she did not want to spoil Pinkie's jokes, especially not when they might be in real danger. Pinkie's jokes had saved them all more than once, more often than the others perhaps suspected.

"All right, girls," said Twilight briskly. "I've assembled you all here to let you know that there may be a problem with Discord."

The others leaned forward with interest.

"Fluttershy is in love with Bulk Biceps," Twilight said. She waited for the shock to hit them all, then noticed that they were all looking at her as if expecting her to say much more. "What, you all knew that?

Fluttershy and Rainbow of course did.

"Well, she's my best mare-friend," said Rarity. "I've known of her attraction to Bulk for two months now."

"I told you about it, remember silly," said Pinkie. She snort-laughed. "And it was kind of obvious."

"Ah'm Honesty," Applejack pointed out. "Plus, they were making goo-goo eyes at each other all the way to the Crystal Empire. And before that. And there was that business in the North Field ..." She noticed Fluttershy looking at her pleadingly and finished by saying "... other clues."

"Am I always the last to know of these things?" asked Twilight, peeved.

"Yup," said Applejack.

"Pretty much," added Rainbow Dash, nodding.

"Maybe," said Fluttershy very softly.

"You don't really pay much attention to l'affairs du coeur, darling," Rarity explained.

"I like Cheese Sandwich!" shrieked Pinkie Pie, pulling out a huge black-and-white glossy of him, signed 'From Cheese Sandwich to His Number One Party Pony, XXXOOO.'

Everypony stopped and stared at her.

"What," said Pinkie. "I thought we were doing dramatic love confessions now!" Instead of looking at all embarrassed, she gave the photograph a big goofy grin.

For a moment Twilight thought she could actually see little red hearts boiling off Pinkie, then blinked her eyes, and could see them no longer. Then the more important information registered.

"Wait, Pinkie's in love with Cheese Sandwich?"

"Well of course, sugar cube," said Applejack in a kindly tone.

"It's kind of obvious," pointed out Rainbow Dash. "They got all friendly at my birthaversary, and he's been back in town a couple times since then, just to see her."

"They have so much in common," added Rarity. "They're practically kindred spirits. Isn't it wonderful?."

"I think it's nice," said Fluttershy softly.

Pinkie ignored the conversation, now occupying herself by making little kissing motions at the photograph.

"Anyway," said Twilight, "getting back from this issue of True Confessions to the severe existential danger in which we and the whole of Equestria may now be ..."

That quieted them. Except for Pinkie, who for a moment continued making kissy-faces at her photograph of Cheese. Then even she straightened up and put her memento away to whatever place from which she had originally retrieved it.

"So," Twilight continued, "Discord is also apparently attracted to Fluttershy ... and yes, I had already noticed that." She looked challengingly at everypony, but nopony seemed inclined to say anything on that topic. And Discord discovered Fluttershy's relationship with Bulk in a rather ... ahem ... upsetting manner for all three of them concerned."

"Oh, dear, said Rarity.

Applejack tsk-tsked.

Pinkie grinnned.

Rainbow looked unhappy.

Fluttershy drooped every part of her body simultaneously in one of the sadder expressions Twilight had ever seen on her.

"And Discord teleported away to ... where ever it is that Discord goes when he's not here," Twilight said. "To sulk, I'm guessing ... I hope, because the alternatives all strike me as much worse."

"And Mr. Bulk?" Rarity asked.

"He's safe on the Pie Rock Farm. Its wards should keep Discord out -- unless he tries really hard to get through them, that is," explained Twilight.

"Well, that is a relief," commented Rarity. "He seems like such a nice stallion, and I'm sure Fluttershy would be quite distraught if anything happened to him."

Fluttershy's eyes grew big at the thought.

At that moment Spike came back from the kitchen, where he had made tea and sandwiches for everypony. He served them with biscuits and little sweet muffins.

"Ooh!" said Pinkie Pie, "We can have these, too!" She reached into somewhere, and got everyone pink-frosted cupcakes on the side. She also began blowing up party balloons and hanging streamers around the room.

Twilight pressed her hoof against her forehead.

"Pinkie," she said in irritation. "You do know this really isn't a party, right? It's a serious council of possible war ..."

"Well of course I know that, silly," Pinkie assured them. "So these aren't really party balloons. They're serious-council-of-possible-war balloons." She smiled maniacally. "See?"

Twilight simply shrugged.

"Now, the problem is that we don't actually have the Elements of Harmony," she said. "So we couldn't use the Elements against Discord even if ..." she looked at Fluttershy.

Fluttershy shook her head in an emphatic no.

"... Even if everypony was willing to do so. And Discord hasn't actually done anything really bad yet -- he's just been rude. So I think we should all just be aware that Discord may be in a dangerous mood, treat him diplomatically, maybe figure out what he might do if he decides to act." She paused and looked at her friends expectantly.

"Ah'll be nice to him, less'n he starts hurtin' Ponies," Applejack assured her.

"I shall treat him with perfect charm and grace," said Rarity, striking a charming and graceful pose.

Spike looked at her with adoration.

"Meh," said Rainbow Dash, folding her forelegs and looking peeved. "I won't clobber him."

"I think he still wants to be friends," said Fluttershy.

"Oooh!" squeaked Pinkie Pie. "We can throw him a 'We're all still friends' party! And there can be cakes, and balloons, and party games, and little adorable plushies as party favors!"

"Pinkie," said Twilight. "That's ..." she paused and thought about it a moment. "... actually not all that bad an idea. Might put him in a good mood."

"Woo-hoo!" shouted Pinkie. "Chaos God friendship party!" She darted around the room, putting up decorations which she seemed to have somehow already pre-positioned.

"Anyway," said Twilight. "We need to let the Princesses know what's going on." She looked at the wings on her own back and clarified her point. "Celestia and Luna, that is." She pulled out a piece of paper and a quill pen from a drawer, began writing. "They actually know Discord well -- they'd be much better at predicting his actions than am I," Twilight explained to her friends.

Twilight looked at the result, sanded, blew. "There," she said, satisfied. She rolled and tied up the paper. "Spike?" she asked, tossing it over to him.

Spike spouted green flame and the letter vanished.

"Now, this will probably take a little time before we get a response," Twilight said, "so we should discuss some basic tactics. Unless Discord actually starts killing Ponies, we don't want to make him any angrier than he already is. One thing --" she looked at Fluttershy.

"Me?" asked Fluttershy, almost squeaking it out.

"If he does show up he'll probably be focused primarily on you," said Twilight. "You can play it by ear: be nice to him, but don't make him any promises you really don't want to keep ..."

"Promises?" asked Fluttershy.

"... but if he looks as if he's going to go berserk, Stare him. Quickly. Make sure he can't hurt anypony. No, make that anyone," Twilight amended, looking at Spike.

Spike looked frightened, and moved closer to ... Rarity? The white unicorn mare responded by moving closer to him, too, so that she was sheltering him like a mother its colt. Almost like that, but slightly different ...

That's odd, Twilight thought, though not really all that relevant.

"I ... um ... I don't actually know how well my Stare works on him," Fluttershy pointed out. "It might not --"

"It probably works better than anything else we have," Twilight pointed out, "and it's the only weapon we have that can stop him without risking massive destruction.

"What about your magic?" asked Applejack. "Ah notice it's been gettin' stronger since you became a Princess," she pointed out.

"Why, thank you," replied Twilight. "I've been practicing. But no, I'm afraid that the best I can do against Discord if he's really mad is throw up shields, teleport, maybe try to sting him with magic missiles. Delaying tactics. If you knew what I knew, about the source of his power ..." she said, shuddering. "He's probably the strongest mage on the Earth, right now."

"What about me?" asked Rainbow Dash. "I could dart in, give him a punch here, a kick there!" she demonstrated, risking damage to the library fittings until Twilight gently wrapped her in her bright pinkish-red aura.

"No," Twilight said. "If he gets hostile, you keep moving, make yourself a difficult target and keep your flight-field strong. You don't understand what he can do if he gets really mad," she said. "He's always just toyed with us. I don't want to lose you, Dashie."

"Ah'd like to say that Ah could do better ..." began Applejack.

"You couldn't!" insisted Rainbow Dash.

"... but I cain't," Applejack admitted. "Ah t'aint no mage. All Ah am is a good brawler."

"And you're incredibly loyal friends, both of you," Twilight interjected. "Just try not to get killed, see what you can do."

At that moment Spike burped up a scroll.

Twilight took it, unrolled it.

Mine Own Dearest Friend,
I am alarmed at the deeds of Discord. Beware him. If he feels himself scorned, his wrath might be terrible. I shall meet thee with all haste -- I must gather some things first.
I hope to see thine own welcome face again in this life. If I do not, know that thou art and hast always been dear to my heart. And that we shall in any case meet again, in the fullness of time.
Eternal Love,
Princess Luna Selena Nyx
Who Was Once Moondreamer

Twilight read the salutation and the first paragraph aloud to everypony. Then she got to the second paragraph and stopped reading aloud, continuing silently. Her face first blanched, then blushed in quick succession.

"What's it say?" asked Applejack.

"Yeah, what's Celestia gonna do?" queried Rainbow Dash.

"Ooo, I bet she's gonna bring cake!" guessed Pinkie Pie.

"Um," said Twilight. "It's actually from Luna, not Celestia, and she says she thinks Discord might be really angry, and we should be careful, and that she'll be joining us with some things she needs to gather first. She looked at the letter. "And, you know, the usual polite stuff. She can be very, um, formal."

Applejack looked at her dubiously, but said nothing aloud.

Twilight stuffed the letter into the drawer. This, with a pile of other ones, was going into her private collection. She sometimes liked to read Luna's letters over to herself. If she survived the next day or so, she might do the same with this one.

Twilight had to wait a moment to regain her composure. "All right," she said. "Rarity, if there's trouble ..."

"Charm should still suffice," replied Rarity. "He is, after all, male." She lifted her pretty head proudly, batted her lovely eyelashes.

"Yes," agreed Twilight, "but I don't think you're getting what I mean by 'angry' here." She could not help but remember Celestia's tales of seas evaporating, whole races transformed into new species, earthquakes, volcanoes ... Surely he would't go that far over the kind of situation you'd find in a Prench farce, she told herself, and hoped she was right. Would he? "I mean ... remember the day he first came back?"

Rarity nodded, shuddered at a recollection which Twilight was fairly sure centered around a certain boulder.

"He wasn't actually mad at any of us back then," Twilight explained. "He was only playing."

"Oh," said Rarity, realization starting to set in. "Oh."

"Eep," said Fluttershy.

Pinkie gave a gasp.

At this point there was a dramatic swirl of smoke -- or was it something less tangible? -- at the far end of the library. The smoke dissipated in what seemed to be a flock of bats, but the bats themselves warped and vanished before they could fly too far, as if they were some sort of highly-concentrated and precisely-crafted warp in spacetime.

"Aaah!" shrieked Fluttershy, trying to hide behind Rainbow Dash. This was a poor strategy, as Fluttershy was actually a lot larger than her rainbow-maned best friend. For her part, Rainbow assumed a defiant pose, ready to give her life if need be to protect Fluttershy.

Rarity whirled and tensed for action. Even Applejack seemed perturbed.

Pinkie, whose gasp had come before the strange effect had appeared, cried out in happy delight:

"Black Snooty!" She reached for a piece of cake, ran forward.

Twilight, who knew who it was the moment she saw the bats, stepped forward with a glad smile.

"Princess --" she began.

"Would you like some cake?" asked Pinkie Pie, shouldering Twilight aside to present the promised delicacy.

Princess Luna stood there. Tall, proud, and regal, with starlight in her long rippling blue mane. She was clad in half-plate with her Mark on the breastplate, worn with open-visored helm and spiked sabatons. Twin crescent swords were sheathed at her sides, she had quivers of javelins, bullas hung from her side-harness, and some sort of bands of what looked like small rockets were draped over her form. In her aura she held a curious weapon like a small multi-barrelled cannon, with the barrels arranged in a circle around a central mounting; small ovoid bulla-like devices with rings on one end hung from a belt. Her expression was very serious.

Beautiful blue eyes blinked in confusion at the balloons, banners and streamers.

"That is really more my sister's -- wait, is that chocolate?" she asked.

Pinkie nodded enthusiastically.

Help had arrived.

Chapter 6: The Voice of Reason

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Wind Whistler stood looking at Discord for what seemed a very long time.

Discord shifted uncomfortably before her gaze. He should not have felt uncomfortable, of course: he was a Draconequus, a God of Chaos, a manifestation of Nature's Fury. She was just the ghost of a Pony, preserved within what was now his mind. He was the victor, the master here.

Nevetheless, he felt uncomfortable.

Perhaps this had been because, for the first two decades of his life, she had been his teacher. His teacher, and of course that of the two Sisters, but then they had always gotten on well with her. He, on the other hand, had always been the bad colt of the classroom, the one who would act up and do something stupid (something that, half the time, would make the Sisters laugh, which was of course one of the big reasons he did them) but which would annoy Wind Whistler.

Corporal punishment was not the way of the Ponies of Paradise Estate. And Wind Whistler needed no such crude methods of discipline. She could simply fix one with such a stare, such a look of stern disapproval ... it wasn't a psychic Stare, like that of ... somepony else ... but it didn't need to be. It reduced one to a quivering mass of guilt.

Celestia had learned that look, copied it, practiced it. That look had helped her rule a subcontinental-sized empire.

Wind Whistler had the original model.

"Why am I here?" he asked rhetorically. "I'm here because I'm thinking of killing somepony, that's why." There. That established his seriousness, that he was no longer a schoolcolt in her class!

"Then why don't you simply kill that pony?" Wind Whistler asked, quirking her lips and putting her ears forward slightly. "Surely that's not so difficult for something as mighty as yourself?" Her voice was utterly deadpan. "And killing ponies has always worked out so very, very well for you ..."

"It's not that simple," Discord explained, twisting and turning his long body in a way which would have unnerved almost anypony else.. "It used to be that simple, but then everything changed."

"What changed everything?" Wind Whistler asked him.

"She changed everything," Discord replied. "If I kill him, she'll get mad at me." He pouted. "Which shouldn't matter to me, because she betrayed me anyway." His face fell. "But it does matter," he said from the floor. "It does."

"Pick that up!" said Wind Whistler sternly, pointing with one hoof at his fallen face.

He stuck out his tongue at her, but reached down, gathered up his face and re-attached it to the front of his head.

"Now," asked Wind Whistler, "shall I assume that by 'her', you mean the High Lady Fluttershy Wind?" She gestured with her hoof, and a glowing three-dimensional image of Fluttershy appeared, rotating slowly to show her from every point of view.

Discord smiled briefly at the hologram of her, his face softening. Before it could run like wax off his head, he remembered that he was mad at her, and scowled. "Yes," he confirmed. "Her."

"Do you love her?" Wind Whistler asked him directly.

"Love her?" Discord snorted. "Don't be ridiculous. Love her? I'm Discord!" he shouted. Lightning flashed, thunder rumbled. "I've crushed nations under my feet!" He looked at those appendages. "Well, not literally, unless they were very large feet. Or very small nations. Or I guess I could do it one footprint at a time, but then it would take me a very long time ..."

"Discord!" snapped Wind Whistler.

His eyes jerked forward to meet hers.

She blinked in irritation, drew her head back, and pushed the eyeballs on the end of their stalks out of contact with her own orbs.

"Do," she repeated slowly, "you love her?"

"No!" he said. "Not really. Well, maybe. Perhaps. A bit. Yes," he finally admitted, making it sound as if he were admitting to some shameful weakness.

"Well then. You love her."

Discord nodded.

"And by 'him,' I suspect you mean Bulk Biceps." She made another gesture, and a hologram of his hated rival appeared, also glowing and rotating slowly.

Discord hissed, his eyes shooting daggers at the image. Fortunately for Wind Whistler, she had expected some such reaction from him, and had been careful to stand well clear of the line of fire. The daggers kept on going until they shunked into one of the room's walls.

"I'll take that as confirmation," she continued drily. "So, you hate him?"

"Yes," said Discord.

"You want to hurt him?"

"Yes," snarled Discord.

"You want to kill him?"

"Yes!" roared Discord,

"Why?" asked Wind Whistler.

"Why?" asked Discord in confusion. He stopped, scratched his head for a moment, then practically wailed "Because he's making time with my filly!"

"Ah," said Wind Whistler. "Now we get to the heart of the matter."

"I'd like to get to his heart," said Discord, extending the claws on his lion paw to their full length. "Get to it and rip it out and ..."

"Hush," said Wind Whistler. "We're being rational here."

"Oh, all right," grumbled Discord.

"Now, when you say your filly .... bear with me, I'm not always up on your newfangled customs, things were simpler in my day ..."

In point of fact, it had been Wind Whistler herself who had first adapted the Human marital codes to Pony purposes, writing out lengthy descriptions of them in the first place, in the days when the Reclamation had begun and the Ponies had begun living in towns and cities again, both sexes mingled together instead of separating into sedentary Mare and nomadic Big Brother herds. But Discord let this pass -- he was familiar with her teaching methods.

"Is she your wife?" asked Wind Whistler.

"Well, no," Discord said. "I disapprove of marriage on philosophical grounds, you see ..."

"Your betrothed?"

"Of course not," said Discord in some annoyance. "Why would I betroth to somepony if I disapprove of the concept of marriage?"

"Your acknowledged exclusive lover?"

"No," admitted Discord. "We hadn't quite made things exclusive ..."

"Your regular non-exclusive lover?"

"Well, no ..."

"Have you ever mated with her?"

"Not precisely ..."

"Have you ever made love with her short of full physical intercourse?"

"Well, we've been taking things slow ..."

"Have you kissed her?"

"Yes!" said Discord, glad to finally be able to answer in the affirmative to one of these maddening questions.

Wind Whistler fixed him with her gaze..

"Just ... not on the lips," he admitted.

Wind Whistler sighed in frustration.

"Have you ever told her that you love her?" she asked him, her voice surprisingly gentle.

Discord suddenly found his own fore members very fascinating, twiddling the talons with the lion's claws.

"Well, as a friend ..."

"Discord, what exactly do you have or do with Fluttershy that causes you to imagine that you have the right to kill any rival for her affections?" asked Wind Whistler.

"Well," he replied. "I come over for her house for tea. And she serves me these really nice little cakes. And I watch her tend her animals ... she's so maternal with them, and she never hurts them ..." his eyes got misty. His relationship with his own incarnate mother had been a bit strained, at the end, after she broke free of his mind control. "And then we take walks, and have long conversations about how life works and how the animals and plants live together. And sometimes we'll go off somewhere far away together, and I'll make new species for her, or show her some new ideas about weather or matter and sometimes she thinks I'm really clever and she tells me so and I feel ... happy ... it makes me feel really good when she likes what I make ..."

"I ... see ..." said Wind Whistler, screwing her features up in concentration.

"And sometimes," Discord continued, "when we have a really good day, we'll just lie there talking and she'll sort of cuddle up into my coils, and she's so warm and soft and fuzzy and yellow and pink and cute, like some kind of living plush toy only better because I know it's my friend in there, and she's not afraid of me at all, she'll just go to sleep against me, and I can imagine that I'm ... well ... something else, something she'd have no reason to be afraid of, and that we could be like this forever and ever ... well, not literally, it would get boring, but for a long while and we could do this again and again instead of me betraying and destroying her like I know I will in the end ..."

"Why?" asked Wind Whistler gently.

"Why what?"

"Why will you betray and destroy her in the end?"

"Well, it's what I do, isn't it?" said Discord. "I mean I can have fun with my toys for a while, but eventually they always break or wear out. And they're just toys, in the end. They're not real, like me. And betrayal and destruction are fun -- they're all part of the game."

"You contradicted yourself, you know."

"I do that a lot," Discord said. "It's who I am. I'm Chaos. I'm free. I can't be tied down by laws and morality and nonsense like that -- that's a restriction on my soul. That's slavery."

"So you have to betray and destroy those whom you love?" asked Wind Whistler.

"Of course," said Discord. "I betrayed and destroyed you, didn't I? And everypony else in my family. Except for the ones who betrayed and destroyed me."

Wind Whistler blinked.

"You're supposed to be the smart one, after all," Discord continued. "Can't you see the pattern?"

"Yes," said Wind Whistler. "I can see it clearly. And that's the contradiction."

"What is?" asked Discord.

"You claim to love Fluttershy," Wind Whistler explained. "To enjoy her company. You claim that she makes you happy."

"So?"

"And you claim that you will betray and destroy her in the end," added Wind Whistler.

"And?"

"Why must you?" asked Wind Whistler.

"Eh?"

"If you want to keep her around you, as your friend, then just don't betray and destroy her. If you 'must' betray and destroy her, then aren't you accepting the imposition of an external rule over yourself, limiting yourself? A restriction on your soul. Slavery."

"You don't understand," Discord said. "You've never understood." He sighed. "You're just one Aspect -- the ghost of an Aspect -- and so am I, but I'm an Aspect of something very much larger. I have to be the way I am. If I change too much ... deviate too much ... I could ..." He shuddered. "You wouldn't understand."

"You're afraid that you will be rejected by your Cosmic Self," said Wind Whistler calmly. "Your memories extracted for the use of the greater Discord, and your personality -- everything you've become since your entry into the mortal plane -- deleted and destroyed, or at best kept in compressed storage for the occasional simulation, never to be free in the real world again."

Discord gaped at her in astonishment.

"I've been living inside you for twenty-five hundred years," she said. "I've read the books in my library. You know that, Discord. That's why you come to me for advice in the first place."

"Well you should be afraid too," said Discord shortly. "Something went out of you when I took your body," he pointed out. "I think it was your soul. You may be just a copy, attached to me, and if that's the case, then if I'm deleted, you will be too."

"Why should I be afraid?" Wind Whistler asked. "Of deletion?"

"Because you won't be!" said Discord. "You'll cease to exist."

"But if I let fear change me into something I'm not," pointed out Wind Whistler, "something the me I am now would despise, isn't that also 'ceasing to exist?' I'd rather not let fear rule me like that."

"Now you're just being philosophical."

"Philosophy is important," said Wind Whistler. "We're governed by our assumptions, whether we acknowledge them or not."

"I'm entirely free," insisted Discord.

"That's what you choose to believe." Wind Whistler sighed. "Very well. Do you really want my advice?"

"That's why I'm here," said Discord.

"If you do anything to harm Bulk Biceps, you will lose any chance you ever had of winning Fluttershy's love of her own free choice," said Wind Whistler. "At best you will acquire Fluttershy as a highly-reluctant slave, and only for a while. At worst, you will either destroy the world for the last time ..."

"Last time?" asked Discord. "That sounds terribly final ..."

"Another big battle between you and the Sisters could wreck the geocentric mini-cosmos you three formed around the Earth four thousand years ago. You've already put it under tremendous strain. You'll crack the continuum even more severely. And the Night Shadows are waiting to swarm in and devour all life on this world."

"Night Shadows!" Discord laughed, waved his lion paw scornfully at the air. "That's a lie, told by the Powers That Be the better to oppress us!"

"I don't know which Powers you mean," replied Wind Whistler, "since as far as I can tell neither Nature's Fury nor Nature's Law seems to be responding competently to their existence, or doing much of anything other than squabbling unproductively -- I think you're both being betrayed by a mole. But have it your way. No Night Shadows." She glared at him as if she would say something more, then returned to her original point.

"If you fight the Sisters again, either you'll win, or they'll win, or you'll break the world between you, in which case you all lose. If you win, you get Fluttershy the way that you had Shady -- as your mind-slave. You won't really enjoy that."

"How do you know that?" asked Discord.

"Because of everything else you told me," answered Wind Whistler. "You want her love, her approval. Hers, not that of a meat puppet wearing her face. If that was all it took to satisfy you, then you just would have created a simulacrum of her in your private world instead of going through all this drama.

"If you lose --" Wind Whistler continued.

"Oh, please --" laughed Discord. "Like I could lose!" He held high a gold statue of himself which was inscribed 'Discord: #1 Winner', and made a victory pose, while confetti and streamers rained down on him from above.

One of the streamers fell across Wind Whistler's nose. She wiped it off with irritation.

"Says the Draconequus who spent fifteen hundred years as a statue decorating Celestia's garden," Wind Whistler pointed out. "I rather enjoyed it. I had time to read, and work on my model. Did you enjoy it?"

Discord scowled.

"And if you break the world ..." said Wind Whistler. "Well, you'll be free. You wouldn't even have to go back to the Cosmic level to suffer the vengeance of your Family," she pointed out. "Just wander the Universe as your present Aspect, alone and lonely, going slowly mad ... the only species with whom you can emotionally identify forever gone ... that's not too bad, now is it?"

Discord's scowl grew deeper.

"And of course none of those outcomes get you Fluttershy," Wind Whistler added. "Not as you really want her. As your beloved friend."

"Enough!" shouted Discord. "You've made your point." He held up and waved a small white flag. "What can I do?"

Wind Whistler smiled.

Her eyes were unreadable.

Chapter 7: The Moon Princess

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Twilight Sparkle was so relieved to see Luna that she almost ran over to her and nuzzled her openly. Twilight wanted to do it -- there was something about the situation, such a relief to see Luna's big, beautiful, deadly and above all friendly form when she had been fearing the advent of Discord, that it made her feel like a lost filly suddenly rounding a corner to see her family standing there. Only Luna wasn't save in the most remote sense her family at all, but something else mysterious and exciting that she did not like to name even to herself too explicitly, lest naming it somehow rob it of its power.

But as she stepped gladly forward, Twilight saw Pinkie Pie in the way, and suddenly realized that all her friends were watching, and remembered one of the less pertinent earlier topics of discussion. And she was suddenly shy, and stopped in front of the Moon Princess, looking up at her a bit awkwardly. Twilight had grown surprisingly over the past year -- Rarity had happily let out the better of her older clothes and taken the opportunity to design her newly-royal friend a whole new wardrobe -- but Princess Luna still topped her by a full hoof at the shoulder.

"Princess Luna --" Twilight started to say, and at that moment Luna's beautiful blue eyes moistened as they looked into Twilight's own, and Luna reached forward to wrap a foreleg around her and draw her into an unashamedly open hug, giving her cheek and neck a quick but affectionate nuzzle, just short of expressing more than friendship. Twilight stiffened for a moment in surprise, then relaxed happily into Luna's protective warmth.

"Well met!" Luna said loudly, then, more softly almost breathed into her ear, "I am so glad to find thee alive and unharm-ed." She fully pronounced the last syllable of 'unharmed,' one of the remaining archaisms of her speech that not even four years in the 16th century had changed. She usually used 'you' in normal conversations with most ponies now, but still almost always still used the second person familiar with Twilight and a few other Ponies -- a habit whose implications Twilight grasped quite well.

Luna released Twilight, looked at her with extreme fondness, then smiled at Twilight's friends.

"Well met you one and all," she addressed them. They responded with bows of differing degrees; Applejack regarding her with reverence, Fluttershy and Rarity executing perfect formal bows, and Rainbow Dash making a military salute. Pinkie, being Pinkie, bounded happily all around her, grinning and warbling "I've got lots of chocolate cake!" to the \warrior Princess. Twilight, who had finally gotten use to her new station, simply inclined her head slightly in respect, but her eyes returned Luna's warmth.

Luna turned to Twilight. "I would guess that Discord has neither yet returned, nor harmed anypony?"

"Yes," replied Twilight. "The last any of us has seen of him was Fluttershy -- he teleported away from her house, possibly back to his own realm."

"Was he wroth?" Luna asked.

Everypony looked at Fluttershy.

"Um ... yes ... I think so ..." Fluttershy replied. "He kind of ... glared at me ... and howled ... and then left."

Luna frowned. "He's deciding what to do next," she said. "This is bad."

"Why is it bad that he's deciding what to do next?" asked Twilight.

"He is most times rash," Luna explained. "He will do what he wills on the instant, then oft times forget his purpose. If one survives his first fury, one may well be safe from future scathe."

"And if he stops to think?" Twilight asked the question, but wasn't sure she'd like the answer.

"It means he is angered greatly," Luna stated. "It means he may be preparing some vengeance terrible."

"Eep!" said Fluttershy, ducking under one of the tables.

Luna ducked down to meet Fluttershy's frightened gaze. "I do not think he means to harm you," she said, "If he had, he would have snatched you to his domain when you were in his presence."

Fluttershy looked out a bit hopefully. "That's good," she said. Then she seemed to realize something. "Wait ..." she started to ask. "Who ...?"

"Bulk Biceps," Luna said. "Discord will wreak his wrath upon him."

Fluttershy moaned. "It's all my fault!"

Luna looked at her. "Why do you say that?" she asked curiously.

"Because if I hadn't made love to Bulkie, he'd be okay!"

"Had you in any way promised yourself to Discord?" Luna asked.

"No ..." said Fluttershy.

"Then what did you do wrong?" Luna's voice was demanding, but gentle.

"I was supposed to keep Discord happy," Fluttershy wailed. "This isn't happy! This is totally and completely furious!"

"'Supposed to' -- my sister's orders?" Luna asked, a certain edge starting to come into her voice.

Fluttershy nodded.

"What exactly did she tell you to do?" Luna's tone was beginning to get cold.

Fluttershy gulped, hunkered down a bit more under the table.

Rainbow Dash hopped down to stand partially in front of Fluttershy. "Hey, Princess," she said, "Go easy on my friend, okay? Can't you see you're making her uncomfortable?"

"Yes, Your Highness," said Rarity, leaning forward with a knowing smile. "Honey catches more flies than vinegar, they say."

"But you should answer Princess Luna's question," added Twilight, looking under the table, smiling warmly at Fluttershy. "What did Celestia actually ask of you?"

"She told me that she wanted to give Discord a second chance," Fluttershy said, gaining some courage from the love of her friends. "She said that I should ... be nice to him ... be his friend, get him to like me, and show him that kindness could accomplish more than cruelty. Yes, those were her exact words: 'show him that kindness could accomplish more than cruelty.'"

"Ah," said Luna, relaxing. "But she did not command you to be Discord's lover, did she?"

Rainbow Dash's face darkened, and she started to move forward. Applejack put a hoof on her shoulder. Rainbow turned at the touch, and Applejack silently shook her head, no.

Rarity looked at Fluttershy inquiringly.

"N-n-n-no," stuttered Fluttershy.

"And were you?" Luna asked coldly.

"No!" squeaked Fluttershy. "We're friends! We're affectionate, but not like that! Would he even want that?" she asked. "I mean, from a Pony?"

"Yes," said Luna, directly. "He would."

Applejack blinked in surprise.

"Oh," said Fluttershy. "Then it really was what it looked like." She sounded sad. "Then I hurt Discord. When I could have made him happy."

"Fluttershy," said Luna, her voice gentling, "I greatly doubt that my sister wanted thee to be Discord's whorse. Or his slave. My sister is subtle, but she would not -- could not -- so abuse one who has given so much of herself in the service of the Realm." The stress in her voice increased in that last phrase.

Applejack frowned.

Twilight noticed that Luna had shifted to the second person familiar in addressing Fluttershy, and with affection rather than contempt.

"Then ..." Fluttershy said "... I didn't fail Princess Celestia?"

Luna looked briefly sad. "No, Fluttershy," she said. "Thou didst not. Rather, thou hast served us both right well, keeping a very dangerous being content." She bent forward. "Understand, 'tis not chiefly his carnal lusts he would satisfy. Discord hath his own ways of relieving such desires, and needeth not any other soul for such a purpose."

Fluttershy nodded, giving Princess Luna a look of complete understanding..

Twilight knew to what Luna referred. The thought of Discord doing this rather disgusted her, but it made sense given his known powers.

Rainbow got a very strange look, as if she was trying to figure something out.

Applejack pulled her head back, a look on her face as if she had bitten into a sour apple.

Pinkie screwed up her face in concentration for a moment, then giggled. "Ooh," she said brightly. "That'd be useful!" Everypony looked at her, and she -- quite unusually for Pinkie -- grinned in what looked like actual embarrassment, and did not comment further.

Rarity started and looked down, as if she had suddenly remembered something.

Spike smiled cheerfully up at her.

She leaned down to the small Dragon and whispered, "Darling, you should probably fetch some more sandwiches from the kitchen, the Moon Princess may be hungry."

"But this is interesting," Spike protested.

"It's not for your ears," Rarity said.

"I know all about mas --" Spike began.

"Hush," said Rarity. She put a gentle hoof over his mouth. "This is Discord," Rarity pointed out. "The Moon Princess may mean something beyond the obvious."

That if anything made Spike look more interested.

"Actually, Spike," said Twilight, "we could really all use more sandwiches."

"Aww ..." grumbled Spike, but he trudged off to the kitchen.

Twilight and Rarity smiled at one another.

Luna had watched all this byplay. Judging the moment right again, she said.

"I speak, to be plain, of Discord's energy forms. Ye have all noticed that he can make the semblance of life itself with his magic?"

Understanding dawned on the faces of Rainbow Dash and Rarity.

Rainbow was plainly revolted. "That's gross," she said aloud.

"This is Discord we're talking about, Rainbow," commented Rarity. "Different strokes, dear, and his are about as different as they come." She had a strangely abstracted look on her face, as if something about the thought fascinated her.

"But wait ..." said Rainbow. "His energy form thingies -- they aren't really real, are they?"

"They are holograms given solidity by his telekinesis," Luna explained. "Sound is easily managed by vibration. Smell and taste are more difficult, but he can simply add illusion to his forms if he wishes to imbue such sensations."

"But they don't have minds of their own, do they?" asked Twilight, seeing at what Luna was driving. "They only do what he makes them."

Luna nodded, smiling at Twilight in approval of her quick grasp of the situation. "So ..." she began, deliberately slowing her speech to give Twilight the opportunity to complete the thought.

"They can't love him!" Twilight continued excitedly. "They can't even really be his friends -- he'd only be talking to himself. So that's why he's so obsessed with Fluttershy!"

"Thou hast seized upon the truth," Luna affirmed. "Fluttershy is the first Pony to befriend Discord in fifteen hundred years -- longer if one considers that even his mother did turn upon him, at the last. One could say that Fluttershy is the first Pony in twenty-five hundred years to in her own right mind share his friendship."

"Wow," commented Applejack. "And Ah thought sometimes it got a mite lonely in the outer fields!"

"That's so sad," said Pinkie Pie, her mane drooping. Then it fluffed out again. "Somepony should throw him a party!" She was plainly volunteering.

"Do not have too much sympathy for Discord," cautioned Luna coldly. "He earned the fear and loathing of the world through a thousand years of tyranny. He had friends in his early years, after all."

"What happened to them?" asked Rarity. "If I may be so bold as to ask, Your Highness."

"He killed some," Luna . "Drove others mad. Twisted some into monstrous forms. Others fled. One or two," Luna said, looking at Pinkie oddly, "he actually sent away for their own safety. From himself."

"Then maybe he's not all bad," said Fluttershy.

"Not all bad," agreed Luna. "He has some good in him. But 'tis buried deep, and rarely comes to light."

"He's often been very nice to me," insisted Fluttershy, surprising everypony by her willingness to debate Luna on this issue.

"Yes," said Luna deadpan. "So nice that you're hiding under a table in terror of him. If I'd only known that the standards for being 'nice' were so low of late, I might rage and threaten more often: perhaps it is a good way to make and keep friends?"

Fluttershy winced. Everypony, even Twilight Sparkle, looked reproachfully at the Moon Princess. Rainbow Dash was openly scowling at her.

Luna sighed in exasperation. "Fluttershy," she said with clearly-deliberate calm, "You have done well to bring forth Discord's better side. But you must know that Discord is dangerous, and unpredictable. That is why you are afraid."

She turned to Twilight. "That is why thou didst write to me, asked me to come here. Thou -- rightly -- doth fear what Discord may do, and over a circumstance that while it would most certainly upset most stallions, would not drive them to serious violence. Discord is mad, and has been for two thousand, four and five hundred years. You know the tale."

Twilight nodded.

"Rainbow Dash," Luna said, her tone conciliatory "thou art mine own friend, and I am thine. Full well I know why thou art wroth with me, for my cross words with thy dearest friend, the High Lady Fluttershy. But be aware, brave warrior, that I am not and never shall be any foe to thee and thine."

Rainbow's expression softened and she smiled slightly at being called a 'brave warrior.'

"The threat," Luna continued, "comes from Discord, not myself. It is Discord, not Princess Luna, who might wreak vengeance upon Fluttershy, or Bulk Biceps -- or others -- for a betrayal which exists only within his own fevered mind. Indeed, should we good friends come to quarrel here, we are but achieving his ends, and by his own means. Canst thou see that?"

Rainbow nodded. "Sorry if I was steamed, Princess," she replied. "I'm just -- you know, it's Fluttershy."

"And I apologize for any insult to the High Lady Fluttershy," Luna said, looking directly at the yellow-and-pink Pegasus.

"S'okay, Your Highness," replied Fluttershy, slowly emerging from under the table.

"I have your own protection in mind," explained Luna, "and that of your dear friend Bulk Biceps." She looked around her, closed her eyes a moment. Her horn briefly flouresced bright blue. She looked at Twilight.

"A goodly ward," she commented. "Well done."

Twilight smiled and colored slightly at the praise.

"Bulk Biceps should be relatively safe with Golden Pie," Luna said. "She has the lore of Iolite Quartz and the power of Paradise behind her. Provided that Discord is not willing to really work at it -- and believe me, he is rarely motivated to work at anything -- he cannot pass that good matron's wards."

"That's my Granny!" crowed Pinkie Pie, bouncing up and down with joy.

"Indeed," acknowledged Luna. "And you are a grand-daughter of whom she may be rightly proud."

Pinkie grinned happily.

"That takes care of Bulk for the moment, then," said Luna with some satisfaction. "Now, as to his loved ones ..."

"Discord would hurt them?" asked Twilight in alarm, her eyes widening.

"Mayhaps," replied Luna. "If he was sufficiently wroth, and could not reach Bulk Biceps."

"Featherweight," whispered Fluttershy, looking frightened.

Rainbow Dash looked in the air and moved her hoof as if she were tracing something, then her eyes widened in outright horror.. "Scootaloo!" she shouted and ran right out the front door without pausing to bid farewell to any of her friends.

Twilight telekinesed the door shut, and briefly rewove the wards over that section.

"They are his kin, I ween?" asked Luna.

Twilight nodded. "Featherweight is his only child. Scootaloo is his niece."

"He's divorced," Fluttershy explained softly. "And his brother and his sister-in-law are dead, Scootaloo's being raised by her maternal aunt. He has some other family, I think, in Cloudsdale."

"I know Scootaloo," said Luna. "A brave little filly. I hope she is unharmed."

"Rainbow hopes so too," Applejack said. "She loves her -- treats her as if she were her own kid sister."

"Would even Discord avenge himself on innocent little colts and fillies, Your Highness?" asked Rarity, her face troubled. "I mean -- he's bad -- but can he really be that bad?"

"Yes," said Luna. "He can be. And worse."

Fluttershy unexpectedly climbed out from under the table and spoke.

"Excuse me ... um ..."

Everypony looked at her.

"You've all said that Discord's horrible and that he's scared us all, but what has he really done?"

Luna's jaw dropped open.

"Lately, I mean," Fluttershy clarified. "Yes, he scared me and upset me, and I sent Bulkie away because I was scared for him, but he hasn't actually hurt me. Or Bulk. Or anypony. Over what he saw, I mean. Maybe he won't hurt anypony. Maybe we're all overreacting."

Luna thought for a moment.

"Fluttershy," she said. "It is true that Discord as of yet has not seriously harmed anypony -- within the space of the last year, which is all the time in which he has run free. And is true that we have talked here as if he very much might do harm. But think about why this is so.

"Thou wert worried because thou apprehended Discord night hurt you, or Bulk, or one of Bulk's kin. I worry because I think he may do those things, or worse. Why do we feel this trepidation?

"Because Discord has power but does not care to restrain that power, that is why. And by doing this, he makes a threat against any who might merely thwart him in some way.

"Consider this. Mine own power is great. Suppose, Applejack, that I lusted after thine own brother, Macintosh. But he loved another. Would you tremble, in the belief that I might raze thy farm, murder thy family?"

Applejack thought a moment.

"No," she said. "Cuz you wouldn't do no such thing. You're not like that."

"My power is checked by my principles," said Luna. "I do not claim moral perfection, but I would not harm Ponies merely for failing to bend to me in every thing. That would be wrong.

"The same is true of my sister, and of Cadance, and Twilight. We all have great power, but we do not use such power as a mace with which to batter down the freedom and dignity of others. We respect others."

Luna looked right into Fluttershy's eyes. "Does Discord?" she asked quietly.

Fluttershy shrunk, drooped, mutely shook her head.

"Even if Discord wreaks no wrongs, now, the knowledge that he has both the magical and the moral capability to oppress others can be wielded as if it were a mace against the liberties of each and all," Luna explained. "Who would dare oppose him in anything, when the price of calling his bluff and finding it no bluff at all might be death, or worse? I know myself of ones who opposed him, often in minor matters, during his reign of terror, and who not only suffered, but saw their kin or even whole Kinds tortured for generations for their temerity." Luna's expression grew bleak. "I knew some of them personally.

"Fluttershy, thou hast been put in great fear. Bulk has been forced to flee to South Dunnich. Did either of you do any wrong?"

Fluttershy thought about it for a moment, then shook her head.

"Rainbow Dash even now searches for Featherweight and Scootaloo. Discord's shadow falls over their lives as well. What wrong was done by either of those young innocents?" Luna asked.

Everypony's expression, even Flutteshy's, grew somber at this thought.

"It is possible that Bulk Biceps shall spurn thee after this ..." Luna began.

Fluttershy's eyes widened, and she whimpered.

"I do not say that he will!" the Moon Princess hastily added. "I know him not, but I have never heard any name him coward. But understand -- if Discord means not to actually harm Bulk, his obvious next ploy might be to try to frighten him, harass him so that he abandons his suit. He could do all this without actually committing any crime dire enough to warrant the risk to the Realm of commanding him to cease. And though he is impulsive, he has a certain cunning -- as ye all well knoweth.

"And having won in this sally, ruled over thee in this thing," continued Luna, "how long before he came to rule thee in all? He could drive away everypony who meant anything to thee who threatened his domination over thee or simply occupied an attention he meant to belong to him alone. He might torment your lovers, your friends, even your animals. In the end, Fluttershy, thou wouldst be both his leman and his slave, whether thou willed it or no.

"And so," Luna said grimly to them all, "ye do ken why I so greatly misdoubted, from the start, this plan of my sister's to tame Discord through friendship." She looked at Fluttershy. "It makest thee, in thy own most private heart, hostage to Discord's whims. Celestia should have simply left him stone, for another fifteen hundred years if need be, until Ponykind were much more mighty, and need no longer fear him."

"But ..." protested Fluttershy in a sad small voice. "I've made ... progress. He can be friendly ... fun ... really kind ..."

Twilight glanced at Luna. "Fluttershy has a point," she said. "This is a bad moment, but it seems to me as if Discord has learned and grown. He's been nicer to us lately than he was a year ago. And -- if this works -- we gain Discord as an ally for the Realm. Nopony's been hurt yet -- we can still give Discord a chance, can't we? What's the harm in a little trust?"

Luna looked long and searchingly at the smaller Alicorn. "Twilight ..." Luna finally said. "My sister told thee of our early life, did she not? How Paradise Estate was broken?"

Twilight nodded. "And some of the battles you and your family fought against Discord, yes. But that was long ago -- he must have changed -- he doesn't act like that now. He didn't even do all that on the Day of Discord. Maybe he's mellowed."

Luna looked troubled.

"There is perhaps more thou shouldst know," she said in a very low voice, "something I fear Celestia did not tell thee to spare my feelings, for she knows who and what thou art to me. I wouldst fain converse with thee in private."

"Sure," said Twilight softly. Then, to everypony. "Princess Luna wants to discuss some special aspects of this situation with me in private. We're going to go into my study for a bit."

"Sure thing, Twi," said Applejack.

"How intriguing," commented Rarity. "But we shall respect your privacy."

"Ooh, secrets!" said Pinkie Pie. "It's important to keep secrets!"

"Okay," said Fluttershy.

They stepped into the study.

Twilight observed her friend and colleague.

Luna seemed nervous, ill at ease. She kept averting her face, almost as if she would hide behind her own mane like Fluttershy. This was strange behavior for the normally direct, forthright Moon Princess.

Finally, as they settled down, Luna looked slowly up, gazed into Twilight's own eyes.

"Discord -- when he awoke to his true self -- that it caught Paradise Estate unawares ..." she began, then looked down sadly.

Twilight extended an encouraging hoof, gently stroked Luna's lower foreleg.

Luna looked up, her face twisted in shame.

"It was my fault."

Chapter 8: Some Unusual Places

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Bulk Biceps

"Aieee!!!" cried Bulk Biceps, in what was perhaps not the most masculine utterance of his life, as three invisible, slimy and horribly strong tentacles dragged him through the circular aperture that had formed in the air on what had been a quiet Ponyville lane, dragged him to someplace else -- a region of wooded hills overlooked by mountains and overlooking farmland. All this Bulk saw in a single frightened glance as the tentacles brought him to their side of what was obviously some sort of mystical portal. He looked back through the portal, seeing the inappropriately and madly cheerful face of Pinkie Pie, a bit of that Ponyville lane visible beside her -- and then the portal flickered and vanished, leaving Bulk alone with whatever had taken him.

The tentacles pulled him through the air onto some sort of invisible surface, three times his height at the shoulders from the ground. The surface was soft and warm -- even fluffy. It smelled vaguely like a Pony mare, but there was a strong overlay of something else -- something vaguely like a mammal and vaguely like an insect, and not entirely like either. As he touched down curls of fluff wound themselves around all four of his lower legs, holding him down firmly atop the invisible surface. He struggled, but he was in the grip of a far stronger field, being projected through the fluffy, mare-hair scented bonds, than any he could project through his wings, or oppose with even his muscles. Once he was firmly attached, the slimy tentacles withdrew, and from one point behind him and two below and to his side he heard great smacking and gulping noises. Terror flared in his heart as he wondered if he were about to be eaten.

"Help!" he cried, hoping somepony could hear him. He cast desperate eyes around the surrounding landscape. They were standing on a hill. Below was some sort of farm, though the fields were bare, interspersed with trees, and seemed to be full of rocks ranging from small stones to large boulders, arranged in unusual and complex patterns. Around him were hills, many of them queerly-regular in outline and some crowned by rings of standing stones. Suddenly the creature which held him captive shifted. He heard great scuffing sounds below, but its footsteps were oddly-soft for something which must have been far bigger than a buffalo. "Help!" he cried again.

Noises came from his vicinity. They must have come from the creature, for he could feel the warm fluffy surface beneath him vibrate to its breath in rhythm with each noise. The strange thing was that they sounded as if several voices were speaking at once, in a similar manner but from different directions and with different pitches. They ranged from tenor to bass, but were all peculiarly gentle, the sort of cooing noises that some gigantic mother might have made to comfort a frightened foal. Sometimes they got more complex, and he caught a tantalizing hint of meaning, as if the creature were trying to speak Equestrian but failing -- he could not make out any comprehensible words.

Now his face was pointing toward a particular hill, which was crowned by a yellow-painted farmhouse next to an orange barn Suddenly another portal opened in front of them, and Bulk saw through it that building's front door. A moment later the invisible creature stepped foward and through the portal, and they were standing in front of the orange barn.

It made excited noises, sort of like deep-throated croaks and groans, and then a train of more complex noises in which he almost thought he could understand at least one actual word: "Gran" or "Granny." Bulk's blood ran cold at the thought of what bizarre monstrosity might be the grandmother of anything as strange as his invisible captor. He renewed his struggles, but no more avail than before -- the soft, fluffy manacles which held his limbs gave a little at his strongest efforts, but would not yield past a certain point. Something knocked heavily, invisibly and repeatedly at the barn's main door.

"All right! All right! I'm a-comin!"

The voice could have belonged to an ordinary older mare, Bulk thought, but obviously no ordinary mare could possibly live in this strange place, know such a strange creature. Though -- looking around frantically at the landscape -- didn't this place sort of resemble the eastern White Tail Hills? Say, around Nickerlite along the railway fifty miles west of Ponyville, or a half-dozen or so miles into the hill country of Dunnich ... some of those mountains looked awfully familiar ...

The barn door opened, and the entity within the barn was revealed to Bulk's apprehensive gaze.

She was a compact, slightly chubby orangish-yellow older Earth Pony mare, wearing a light brown head-scarf, from under which protruded curls of greyish-white hair. In her right hoof, she leaned upon a wooden stave, carven in curious designs; she carried a pair of side-bags. Bright golden eyes examined him curiously.

All in all, she looked like some strange old hill mare, not some sort of inequine monster. What's more, she looked somehow familiar ...the cast of her eyes and muzzle looked like somepony he knew ...

"Well, well," she said, grinning wickedly. "What'd you bring home this time, Claire? Adding a nice Pegasus stallion to your harem?"

A sudden and horrible suspicion came into Bulk's mind, one which was even in accordance with some of the weirder stories he had read. Though in those stories, didn't the huge horrible tentacle monsters usually go after innocent young mares? Bulk was hardly innocent, and he was certainly no mare, but what if ...?

Then he caught another implication of what he had heard. Claire? Was the huge horrible thing that had him captive named 'Claire?' It didn't seem like a likely name for some evil tentacle monster ...

Huge indignant snorts came from the invisible creature beneath him, followed by what sounded exactly like a colossal raspberry.

The old mare chuckled. "I'm just funnin' you," she said, her eyes flicking rapidly up and down, as if she were addressing both of them. "Come on, let's get Mr. Bulk inside," she continued, "and this door shut. Need to get the wards up full afore it's entirely safe for him outside, even round these parts."

The creature bore him within. The barn consisted of mostly a single great chamber, centering upon some sort of examination table, equipped with thick leather straps, which looked as if they were meant to hold down some fairly large creatures. Around the walls were a variety of strange machines on caster wheels, some of them seeming to be electrical in nature. There was a small steam engine and arrays of large batteries.

It looked, in short, like the laboratory of some sort of black magician or mad scientist.

Earth Ponies couldn't do magic. Which left "mad scientist."

This didn't look good.

Then the awareness burst upon Bulk that she had addressed him by name.

"How'd you know my name?" Bulk shouted questioningly.

"Pinkie told me," the old mare said.

Suddenly, Bulk realized exactly whom the old mare resembled.

"You're Pinkie Pie's mom?" he asked.

The mare chuckled and actually blushed slightly.. "Why thank you for the compliment, but no. I'm her grandma. Golden Pie, but you can call me Goldie. And you'd be Bulk Biceps -- Fluttershy's special somepony."

"Yeah!" His enthusiasm about that was genuine.

"You're safe here, Bulk. We brought you here to protect you." She indicated her lab. "I know this all looks spooky, but I don't do any terrible experiments here." She nodded to his captor. "Claire, you can let Mr. Bulk go now."

The wet tentacles reached for him again, but this time Bulk did not bother to struggle. Two looped around his barrel and set him down gently on the laboratory floor.

"I'm a biologist and midwife -- Miskatrottic University, Class of `44," Goldie said proudly. "Small but eclectic college, up at Arkhoof in the Duchy of Morgan."

"Yeah," said Bulk, looking around back in the direction where soft and oddly multiple breathing indicated the presence of his gigantic and invisible former captor.

The creature made a series of complex and oddly-apologetic mposes.

"I know you got ... um ... startled the way Pinkie and Claire brought you here," Goldie said. "Claire's sorry she surprised you, grabbin' you like that. She knew she had to hurry, so she couldn't take the time to explain herself. It's hard for her, account of most folks can't understand her spoken Equestrian. But she can understand you right well enough, and she's educated an' all that, so you can always talk to her by writing if need be."

"Claire?" asked Bulk again. Wait, wasn't that the name of the tentacle monster?

"Yep," said Goldie. "That's who's holding you. Pinkie's twin -- sororal rather than identical, obviously. Pinkie jest looks a lot more like most other Ponies."

The statement hit Bulk like a thunderclap, suggesting whole secret realms of horror in these hills. "That thing's Pinkie's sister?!!" he blurted out, an instant before his common sense told him that this might not have been the best thing to say, under the circumstances.

There came huge, indignant-sounding noises from behind him -- how did Claire manage sounding like a whole chorus -- including a vast raspberry. He was sprayed in a fluid that smelled much like mare spittle.

"Now behave!" snapped Goldie. "Both of you. Claire, it is not good manners to spray saliva all over our guest!" she said to the invisible tentacle monster. "We all raised you better than that."

Apologetic rumbles came in reply.

"And Mr. Bulk Biceps, shame on you," scolded Goldie. "Since when is it proper to call a nice young mare a 'thing'?' Inkie told us that you had good manners, but I'm not seeing them today."

Nice -- young -- mare? Bulk screwed up his face, tried to wrap his mind around the concept. Well, Claire hadn't actually hurt him, even though he was much smaller than her. And she was Pinkie's age, and Pinkie was something like a year younger than Fluttershy -- 'Shy was 24, so Claire had to be 23 if she was Pinkie's twin, which was young. But ... mare? Female, sure, but ...

What kind of Pony is huge and invisible? Bulk asked himself. Then he remembered growing up, and mean Ponies asking him if he were a really a Pegasus Pony, or some sort of weird bull, with his freakishly huge body and tiny wings. He remembered hearing that some Ponies called his niece Scootaloo a 'chicken' because she had little wings like his own, and could barely fly. He remembered how hard it had been for himself to learn to fly. Pony is as Pony does, he remembered his mother once telling him.

Suddenly, Bulk did feel ashamed of his own words.

"I'm sorry, Miss Claire," he said to the invisible fluffy Pony behind him. "I was mean. I won't do it again."

Conciliatory deep coos came from the huge entity, and a wet tentacle briefly patted him on the back.

"Now to business," said Goldie. "From what I understand, you've gotten on The Twister's poo list. Probably because you're in love with the High Lady Fluttershy Wind, am I right?"

"Um ... yeah ..." Bulk said, while his brain was trying to process the last part of what she'd said. 'High Lady' -- wait, I knew she's a real aristocratic sort of Pegasus, but that title's normally only used for a Clan Matriarch or member of a Matriarch's immediate family ... Accompanied by the name "Wind," there was another possibiity, but that was surely ridiculous. "High Lady ...?"

"Just a term," said Goldie, blinking. "Don't read too much into it. Why, next you know I'll be calling my daughter Cloudy a Princess of the Crystal Empire!" She chuckled to herself at something, then continued. "Right. So what I'm going to do first is strengthen the wards on this building."

"Then Discord can't get through?" Bulk asked.

Goldie laughed. "Oh, no," she said. "Discord can get through. Don't be fooled. That immaculately-conceived bastard can get through any ward made by mortal Ponies. He could even have gotten through the Crystal Heart in time, if he was so minded." She walked over to her machines, pulled several switches. There was a thrumming in the walls of the barn, which Bulk could feel in his flight feathers.

"Thing is," Goldie continued, "He'd have to work at it. And the Twister don't work at anything. That's his greatest weakness, more fundamental even than his reaction to extreme cold, or even to the Elements of Harmony. He's lazy."

She walked around the barn, tapping the walls at places with her staff, mumbling to herself. Each time she did so, Bulk felt twinges in his flight feathers.'

"There," she said with satisfaction. "Wards are tight on this house. Now I've got to tighten them around the whole property." She looked up at Bulk, grinned. "We're not lazy, you see. Can't afford to be when you farm rocks. That's why we can always beat him. His own fault, really."

"Huh?"

"He gave us our motto. More of a command, really, to our Original Ancestress, which is why it's in the imperative form." She pointed to an odd phrase, on a plaque hanging over a work bench.

Bulk picked out the letters. "V-a-de," he said. "Firm-am pet-ram," he said. "What's it mean?"

"Vade, firmam petram," Goldie corrected his pronouncation. Classical Western Amareican,. To put it in Modern Equestrian: 'Go, farm rocks.' Which she did. And we did. And still do. Course, the Twister never counted on one thing."

"What's that?"

"We learned how to do it really well." She smiled wolfishly. "His mistake."

Bulk didn't understand. But he glimpsed something that Goldie Pie was saying something about her own family, about how tough they were, and in this slightly-chubby old mare he could sense something indomitable and awesome. And abruptly he felt very glad that she had chosen to protect him, and almost sorry for anypony who decided to make himself her foe.

***

Discord

Taking the paths of least resistance from place to place, not the obvious ones that ordinary mortals knew, not the inobvious one of magical teleportation, nor even the routes that Claire "Least Noticeable" Pie took through hyperspace, but ones based on random quantum fluctuations and micro-wormholes that formed and vanished unpredictably -- save to his intuitive motions -- Discord tunneled through spacetime from his domain to the Pie Rock Farm.

He knew of course that Bulk Biceps had been there. Discord could track him, could track anypony, anywhere unless something were specifically interfering with his senses. He couldn't sense Bulk right now, which meant that some mage of unusual ability was warding against Discord personally, since most ordinary wards were as permeable as so much Swiss Cheese to his powers. There were only a few mages who could do that -- and one of them lived right on this farm.

"Goldie Pie," he breathed hatefully to himself. But of course she wasn't the real problem. She was just an agent of something greater, the Paracosmic Paradise. In this place, where Goldie's family had bound a natural nexus in the Earth-currents through transducing devices older than Ponykind, tamed it to serve the purposes of Paradise, most of Discord's own powers were stymied, reduced into Lawfulness should he overstep the wards.

He could still make his way in. He could do it by brute force, physically destroying one after another of the rings of standing stones that were the projections of the ancient Eldren machines into readily-perceptible reality. That would be noticed, because it would result in huge explosions and energy discharges optically visible as far as Canterlot itself, and it would mean the direct intervention of the Princesses. He wasn't certain what would happen then, given that he'd be fighting Paradise at the same time. He shuddered at the thought of anything close to an even fight.

Besides, this was one thing that his Voice of Reason had specifically warned him not to do.

"Do you want to be stone again for another millennium or two?" Wind Whistler had asked him. "It's not as if I mind. I've got lots of reading to catch up on, I can work on my models -- say, would you like to play some chess? In merely a century, we could explore all sorts of variations ... I'm sure you'd come up with some very interesting ideas ..."

Discord shuddered again at the thought of chess. Especially given that Wind Whistler wouldn't let him cheat.

Anyway, he was pretty sure that Wind Whistler was just mocking him. He'd had stray thoughts of chess positions over the last two and a half millennia that made him suspect that she had already organized a chess club in there with some of the other entities he had consumed.

He wondered if Destruction just exploded the board when the game got too intense ... heh ... but Dr. Fuchs in particular probably played by the rules. Boring little git, he'd been. And chess was the kind of game just made for those Elder Things. They had probably already worked out multi-dimensional versions of the game ... Wind Whistler would probably wriggle in pleasure at the very thought.

Being stone again would suck too.

Besides, it would leave Fluttershy free to break his heart some creatively new ways. Even if he killed Bulk, he was certain she wouldn't wait for him for a thousand years, based on what he'd seen already of the little minx. He'd escape in a millennium or two and find out that she'd built some sort of huge fancy seraglio, full of stallions just waiting to serve her.

Why did he even like her when she did things like that? Or might do things like that. Much the same thing, really, in non-linear probability based time-flows.

Most Cosmics tried to keep to linear time when Incarnate because of fear that this sort of thinking would drive them mad. Never stopped me! Of course, he was mad, but that just made life more interesting.

Which was the problem with the other way he could pass the wards. He could of course see the tangles of energy, and while Goldie was a very, very competent mage, she had of course done it in linear time. He could follow her paths backward and unweave her wards, and there was nothing she could do about it because even though she could cast paratemporal spells, she had to move in linear time to repair the damage he could do and he could simply unweave faster than she could weave.

But to do this, he had to walk her pattern, backward. Her long, Lawful, oh-so-boring pattern

Yuck.

Hardly worth the trouble. Even though it would let him get to Bulk and do something subtle to him to detach him from Fluttershy, something Fluttershy wouldn't realize had been done until it was far too late and she realized she loved Discord and she no longer cared about Bulk because, really, how could anyone really care about that big slab of Pegasus muscle? He didn't even have to hurt Bulk -- just maybe make him fall in love with one of the mares on the farm, or turn gay, or something trivial like that. Why, that would hardly even be unethical!

But again, boring.

As Discord sat and dithered, he could feel Goldie Pie moving around her patterns, scuttling like some sort of Pony version of a spider, reconnecting them to the Earth-currents and strengthening them until more and more of Goldie's House, the Pie Rock Farm and a good section of the surrounding hill country, including almost all of what had been the Hyperborean town of Panemellorum became inaccessible to him.

Fine, he thought. Play it that way, you spoilsports. He remembered that a couple years back, Goldie hadn't let the Alicorn Illusion come out to play either. A thought occurred to him. He could go hunt her down and -- no, wait. That wouldn't get him Fluttershy, and it would alert the Princesses to his betrayal, and -- while tormenting Trixie for getting away from him before would be funny, it wouldn't actually accomplish anything toward his main goal.

Think before you act, Wind Whistler had advised him. Work to make Fluttershy trust you, don't just throw it all away on an impulse.

Boring, Discord thought of her advice.

But marginally better than being stone. Or risking being stone. And definitely better than losing Fluttershy forever, or killing her and then having to wait centuries or more until the Alicorn Gaia respawned.

I'll have to deal with this later. And on the other end of the problem, Discord decided, and left Dunnich.

***

The Voice of Reason

In the headquarters of the Discord Chess and Games Club, Wind Whistler and Dr. Schwarzwalder Fuchs were wrapping up a game, while three other members watched.

Fuchs had thought that he had the advantage through much of the midgame, using one gambit after another to advance closer to his goal. But then on turn 32, Wind Whistler had made the key move, catching Fuchs in a three-move-ahead potential fork on his queen, and from then on every move Fuchs had made to wiggle out of the trap had only pushed him in deeper.

"Check," said Wind Whistler," moving her King's Bishop, and ..." she looked it over again ... mate in twelve."

"Oh, you've got to be kidding," said Fuchs.

Green-Glint-of-Copper-Shade gave one of the peculiarly ululating whistles which two and a half millennia of experience had led Wind Whistler to comprehend as laughter. Hee was actually better at the purely-tactical side of chess than was Wind Whistler, though she could still beat herm two out of three games because of her superior strategy. Then again, hee had only been the guard unfortunate enough to be on duty at the biomantic laboratory when an earlier incarnation of Discord had decided to snatch up some proto-shoggoth matter to make the first Smooze; hee was only of slightly above average intelligence for an Elder Thing. Still, hee'd probably seen Fuchs walking into that trap several moves ago.

Four-Dimensional-Hint-Of-Destiny, who had actually been a top scientist of hies race, sniffed contemptuously through all five of hies breathing apetures. No doubt hee had seen what Wind Whistler was doing from the moment she'd gotten her pawn structure into place. Four-Dimensional was much better at chess, as hee was at most pure-logic games, than was Wind Whistler, though she could usually beat him at combined luck-and-logic games. Hee rather lacked the killer instinct, as did most of heis kind by comparison with Wind Whistler; hee would not commit hermself save to an almost-sure thing, which was a disadvantage in many classes of games -- including most of the ones which most accurately simulated real life.

Destruction was paying absolutely no attention. The Draconequus was lounging across a sofa and chair, playing some sort of video game which from the sound effects and music was something involving a lot of explosions. Wind Whistler found it interesting that -- while Destruction had hated his intended role while alive in the real world, he seemed to revel in simulated destruction now that he was a mere ghost inside Discord's brain. She wasn't sure if this was the sign of a nascent sense of compassion, or simply a way to relieve the pressure. Wind Whistler found his inevitable explosions annoyingly disruptive, especially if she were trying to work on something important at the time, but she had a sneaking sympathy for them -- he hated exploding too, and couldn't stop himself.

Besides, when he exploded he gave Discord blinding headaches for minutes at a time, which never failed to darkly amuse her. She was unsure if she had posssessed this sadistic streak before she had been taken by Discord, whether it had developed in consequence of seeing Discord wreck everything she had worked for since the Cataclysm, or whether it represented some worrisome contamination of her soul by Discord's own. She figured the second or third were the most likely, and hoped it was the second: she certainly did not want to have her ghost-self become like Discord, for then she would be truly lost. In the meantime, she tried to avoid taking it out on her fellow-prisoners, who were all at least as much Discord's victims as herself..

The four of them were really a good example of the fact that pure logical capacity was not the same thing as social compatibility. Wind Whistler herself was exceedingly logical, and when harnessing Discord's full intellectual capacity could beat even Four-Dimensional at chess -- though she didn't do this when in the clubroom, as that would have robbed the game of all its fun. The others were not able to tap Discord's mind the way she could, and hence were limited to their native (or in Destruction's case, normal Incarnate) levels of intelligence.

If logical capacity were all that was important, Wind Whistler should have been the best of friends with Four-Dimensional, who was a brilliant scientist; and despised Destruction, who for a Cosmic Incarnate was astonishingly dim, as if he were merely some sort of sapient detonator instead of the equinification of a Concept of the Universe. It was close to the other way around. Her favorites of the four were Destruction and Green-Glint, who were rather jolly companions and always good for a sing-along; while Four-Dimensional was an arrogant, insufferable boor. Fuchs was just a mediocrity -- smart enough in a technical sort of sense, but without much in the way of intellectual independence. She could easily see how he'd joined a pseudo-religious cult back in his day. It made matters worse that he had been tagging along after her for the past two and a half thousand years.

She waited while Fuchs went over the position in detail, came to the inevitable realization. He wasn't stupid, after all -- he was almost Green-Glint's equal mentally, though not in her own class. He was unimaginative, but methodical, and he eventually exhausted all the alternatives and saw that the iron jaws of her trap had closed firmly on his game.

"How did you do that?" Fuchs asked her. "I could have sworn that I made no mistakes -- but you're always able to look ahead more moves than me."

"As always," replied Wind Whistler. "I focused my play mostly on strategy, setting my tactics to the task of merely denying you an opening to shatter my strategy. Control the key positions firmly, and I force you to play my game, on my terms. Your tactics then would have to be far better than mine to win -- and they rarely are."

She knew that this was the kind of line that often led other Ponies to consider her insufferably smug, and she was right. Fuchs looked at her angrily and then scowled at the board, perhaps trying to intimidate the pieces into yielding the secrets of the game.

"Heh," laughed Destruction, pausing his game.and sitting up to look at Fuchs. "Little filly's got ya beat coming and going!" He took a swig from a big foaming mug of beer -- or possibly fuming sulfuric acid, depending on his whim -- not that any of this mattered in this consensually-constructed world, and belched noisily. "Dontcha know you just can't beat Windy? She plays all the angles at the same time!" He grinned cheerfully.

Fuchs shot him a look of annoyance.

Wind Whistler smiled back at him. She'd come to really like the Concept of Destruction in the millennia she'd known him. He was really inept at formal reasoning, but he was a heck of a lot of fun at parties. And sometimes he would utterly shock her with some amazing insight, whose origins he could never adequately explain. Also, for some reason he could also not adequately explain, he seemed to like her.

She sometimes had to remind herself that he'd been the one who'd actually triggered the Cataclysm. It wasn't as if he'd really meant to do it anyway. The other Cosmics of Nature's Fury had apparently used him somewhat like an explosive device -- just tossed him in the general direction of a problem and let him blow it away for them. This struck her as an extremely abusive way to treat one's own sibling. She sometimes wondered if the reason he liked her was simply that she saw him as more than just an intelligent bomb -- indeed, as her fellow-captive.

Of course, inside Discord there was a limit to the damage he could do. Mostly, all he could damage was Discord's peace of mind. The rest of them all got used to saving their positions frequently -- Wind Whistler had done a mathematical analysis on Destruction's explosions and figured out the most efficient save-frequency to avoid major informational loss. Out in the real world, Destruction's ... well, destruction might have been more of an obstacle to his making friends, especially as in life his even his smaller explosions had been capable of devastating whole continents, and his larger ones of smashing stellar clusters.

She'd once asked Destruction outright if he were happier in here than he'd been in life

Destruction had simply given her a chilling, predatory smile that had actually shaken her, despite the fact that she knew they were friends and that he wasn't angry at her at all, and said, still smiling: "No. Freakin. Way."

Surprisingly, he hadn't exploded. Which meant that he was perfectly happy and at peace with his deep, deep hatred of his brother.

Yeah. If she ever did get to do her Good Ending plan, she was going to have to be very careful about where she reincarnated him. She did not want it to be on the same planet, perhaps not even the same solar system as herself and Discord, for fear of becoming part of the collateral damage.

But he was still her friend.

"Plus, her tactics are pretty near perfect," commented Green-Glint, perusing a book on the theory of backgammon.

Green-Glint-of-Copper-Shade was just a purely nice, good-natured sort of Starfish Alien. If hee'd been a Big Brother Pony, instead of a member of an asexual race of pre-equine beings she might have considered breeding with heim just because the foals would have turned out so sweet. Plus, hee was just plain loveable. Too bad we're all ghosts in the mind of a maniac she thought wistfully. Not much chance of any more foals from me. Ah well, I'm one of the common ancestors of all Ponykind. That has to count as more evolutionary success than most Ponies ever have.

"Bah," said Four-Dimensional. "Her tactics are sloppy. She relies almost entirely on audacity and strategy. Which leaves a weakness in her game." Hee lifted a fluted and strangely-carved plastic goblet to one of his mouths, and sipped from it, holding a tentacle curled around it in what was an aristocratic manner for heis kind.

Your game certainly had a weakness, Wind Whistler thought unkindly of the Elder scientist. I can sort of understand shoggoths, she thought, they were just dumb machines at the start. But self-replicating emotivoric shoggoth colonies? What the Tartarus were you thinking?

She knew, of course, of what Four-Dimensional had been thinking. A last-case weapon, to consume the Unknown God if it ever broke free of its captivity. And what were you going to do with the Smooze after it ate the Unknown God? Did your logic ever get beyond this "victory?"

She'd actually asked the pompous old pentasymmetrical windbag once, and he'd sniffed at her and said: "I would have thought of something when matters got that far."

Oh, I do imagine you would, she thought. Probably something involving spreading those membranous wings of yours and getting the heck offworld. Idiot. She really despised entities who failed to think things through, and having high-level superequine intelligence made her have less, rather than more, respect for the offending being.

"Strategy," she told Four-Dimensional in the here-and-now, "always comes first. One must have a game plan before starting the game, even if one must modify it as conditions change."

"And what's your game plan, huh?" Destruction asked her. "In the bigger game?" He leered at her mock-comically. "Cuz I don't think yer showing my brother how to go round the bases with your distant great-great-whatever-grand-daughter just cuz you feel sad about poor Discord being unable to get a date for the prom."

Wind Whistler chuckled. "Indeed," she admitted, "I am hoping to maneuver our esteemed host into a position more advantageous for all of us in the long run."

Fuchs looked dubious. "By getting him sexually involved with your own distant descendant?" he asked. "That seems sordid, by your standards."

"First of all," Wind Whistler pointed out, "it would be impossible for him to become romantically-involved with any existing Pony, save Celestia or Luna themselves, without it being one of my distant descendants. Even the Changelings and Deep Ponies are of my lineage. Secondly, there is nothing in the world less sordid than love. Thirdly, for that reason, love is often quite uplifiting."

"I don't see it," said Fuchs.

"I'm not surprised," said Wind Whistler, sighing to herself. You are actually a stallion. Of my species. The only one I've ever been able to find in here. So why do I find you so utterly repulsive in that manner?

She knew the reasons why, of course. He'd belonged to a pseudo-religious cult which had denigrated the individual, extolled society while hating everypony who actually lived in it. He ideologically-imagined sex to be purely a reproductive and recreational endeavor, which in the Ideal Socialist Society would have about as much emotional meaning to Ponies as having dinner.

Some ponies made the mistake of imagining Wind Whistler to be emotionless. Or at least emotionally cold. Neither was true. She was loyal to her friends, remorseless to her foes, caring toward most colts and fillies, and she loved. In her three thousand, five hundred and seventeen years of immortal but incarnate life upon the Earth, she had mated with dozens and dozens of stallions. And she had loved, or at least very strongly liked, every one of them.

There was something missing in Dr. Fuchs. Something that she had noticed almost as soon as she made his acquaintance, and something which had led her to refuse every offer he had made over the millennia of their mutual imprisonment for what he termed "sexual recreation." She did not want to mate, even as a ghost, with another ghost who regarded her as some sort of piece of sapient recreational equipment, rather than a dear companion and friend.

She admitted that sometimes she could be rather cold, or at least come off as cold. But she had never, not in three and a half millennia of life on Earth, been as cold as Fuchs. And she hoped that she would never become that cold, because she knew that -- especially as a ghost in the mad mind of another, her equinity was the only thing keeping her real.

And she did not trust Dr. Fuchs. He had betrayed one culture that had been kind to him. He might choose to betray his fellow-captives.

So she smiled cryptically, and said.

"Let me simply say, my good Herr Doktor, that the best games are often postive-sum. And that which benefits our esteemed Master Waffle Peak may be not necessarily to our disadvantage."

Dr. Fuchs looked at her in bafflement. Green-Glint inclined his tentacles in a manner which she knew meant agreed-cheerful-hope. Four-Dimensional lifted his head-stalk at her in curiosity.

And Destruction just grinned. A grin that had entirely too many teeth in it.

Strategy, Wind Whistler thought to herself. Just keep your eye firmly fixed on the strategy.

And the tactics will take care of themselves.

Author's Notes:

Quite aside from Claire's unusual anatomy, mammalian hair is surprisingly strong. And she has rather a lot of it.

"Nickerlite," as the name for the town on the railroad closest to the Pie Rock Farm, comes from The Rock Farmer's Daughters by Sketcha-Holic.

The "Go, farm rocks" reference is to something Discord says in Alex Warlorn's Season Four, Generation Transitions and Origins, Episode 54. It's not exact and is taken slightly out of context, but give the Pies some credit for remembering it at all -- it's been some 2500 years since an ancestral Pie wound up with his very own Surprise, and founded a dynasty. This is equivalent to the time between the present day and the Battle of Marathon.

Discord always prefers the path of least resistance.

Wow, Wind Whistler really is running a chess and game club in there. And I bet she has a sign on the door reading "No Discords." D'oh!

I just tossed in one of the world's more obscure Cthulhu Mythos references into this story, and I'm not talking about the two captive Elder Things,one of whom Wind Whistler kinda likes. Wonder if anyone can find the source (hint: it's not from At the Mountains of Madness)?

Ever heard the phrase "If you were the last guy in the world, I wouldn't go with you?" Well, that's Wind Whistler's opinion of Dr. Fuchs. Sad for him, really.

Chapter 9: The World Before Discord

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Twilight Sparkle

"It was my fault."

Shock stung Twilight Sparkle at Luna's words. The room seemed to spin around her.

"No ... Luna ..." Twilight said. "How? ... it's not possible ..."

"I was there," replied Luna grimly, her voice pained. "I know what I did. And what I failed to do. The fault was mine."

"But ..." Twilight protested, looking up at Luna's face. She noticed that Luna did not seem to want to meet her gaze -- instead the midnight-blue Alicorn jerked her head away, her mouth twisting. "Princess Celestia told me what happened ..." Twilight said. "None of you remembered who you really were. Nopony figured it out until it was too late. You didn't know ..." a horrible thought came into her head. She steppd back, asked in a small voice "Did you?"

Luna looked down. "I did not know," she admitted. "But I should have guessed. I knew more than the others. Knew it longer. I just did not want to admit ... did not want to admit what I had learned. What I had done. What I had meant to do. I was too ashamed ... hurt in my own daft vain pride, while our doom was rising amongst us ...a foolish, foalish little filly, for all that my form was full-grown ..."

"I don't understand ..." said Twilight softly. "What you did, what you failed to do ... what happened?"

"I am dancing about the truth," Luna said. "I do not wish to speak it. I fear the moment when I tell thee, when I see the admiration in your eyes change to scorn. Your friendship has meant so much to me of late, and I do not want thee to think me base. But if I do not tell thee, thou wilt not understand, thou wilt keep hoping for the best from Discord ... I cannot betray thee, as I betrayed my kin before. I cannot let it happen again ... I must tell. I shall tell ..." she paused for a moment.

"I shall tell it all," said Luna. "From the start. As it began here, in the centuries after the coming of the Ice, when Equestria was new and Paradise Estate was so very old ..."

"Twenty-five hundred, four-and-twenty years ago ... when I was born ..."

***

Luna

Dost thou know what a strange world it was then? How big? How wide? How dangerous?

It was fourteen hundred, two-and-fifty years since the Cataclysm tore thy world asunder. We were closer to it in time than thou art today to the first defeat of Discord. The scars of that terrible day, when gigaton explosions blossomed from the backlash of the failed Great Work, when the lands shook and the mountains spouted fire, when the seas slopped over the lands and the lands rose up from the bottom of the sea, when the towers fell and Ponykind was plunged screaming into never-ending nightmare -- they were newer both on the world and in the minds of Ponies than they are today.

There had been eight billion Ponies alive on Earth when the day of Cataclysm dawned. There were eight hundred million when Night cast its kindly veil over the ruins of what had been a great global civilization. A year later, scarce eighty million survived. Put simply, but one in a hundred Ponies had lived.

These numbers, mine own dear friend, are easy to speak. Numbers are simple and clean. Numbers are not vaporized too quickly to understand what is happening; or badly burned but left to perish in unspeakable anguish over a few remaining hours of life; or crippled and forced into an unequal struggle for survival in a newly hostile world, untreated wounds bringing pain at every step in their last days or weeks of existence. Numbers do not weep over dead husbands or foals; numbers do not wander uncomprehendingly through the ruins of what had been their world; numbers are not forced to do dreadful things to survive. Numbers are not cast down from the heights of easy lives in an advanced technological civilization to labor unceasingly to live in a world turned into an Iron Age hell.

Numbers do not suffer. Ponies did. Each of those nine-and-ninety in a hundred who died suffered in her own way, and each of those one in a hundred who survived knew the anguish of dead friends and family, wondered why she had been chosen to survive when so many for whom she cared had not been so fortunate. Most were, by the standards of the time in which they had been born, quite mad.

That is what I mean by scars on Pony minds. Those who survived did so by forcing themselves to become harsh, even cruel by the standards of the Ponies they had been before. A hundred years later, when the Pony populations reached their nadir, and only forty million Ponies lived on a planet that had once held two hundred times as many, the new societies that sprang up were firmly based on loyalty to one's own, and callousness to everypony else. It was a barbaric and savage, a deeply-demoralized world.

And yet Ponies rose again! That is the most marvelous thing about the species which I have chosen to become. Nothing defeats you for long, If even some of you survive, you will form families, clans, tribes, tribal nations ... you will be moved by the desire to do good to one another, rediscovering compassion, ethics and morality. Only a complete annihilation could stop you -- and as long as my Sister and I remember you, even that might not suffice, for we would do our best to recreate you on some new world. For one of the greatest victories of survival Ponykind has won, unawares, was in winning Our admiration and friendship.

A thousand years after the Cataclysm, there were perhaps a hundred million Ponies upon the Earth. Of these the vast majority were subject to other races -- to the Dragons, the Griffons, the Water-Serpents, so many other creatures. In one place alone did Ponies mostly rule themselves -- the northern parts of North Amareica. The climate was different then, the Earth much hotter, in what geologists call a Thermal Maximum. Where we are now was a steaming jungle; and away from the rivers barren deserts. The habitable regions were all in the northlands, especially around the Arctic Ocean, which was then free of ice.

In what was then the fertile southern reach, on the north shore of the Great Lake, stood the Crystal City, that very same one that last year thee didst help free from its tyrant. Founded by university scholars who fled the Cataclysm, it preserved a treasure of ancient books, containing lore from the Age of Wonders. You have yet to find many of them, as they were later hidden in a Secret Archive -- I see your ears perk at this; mayhap we might search for them together some time? I have some ideas where ... he ... may have put them.

Further north and to the west, the Three Tribes lived in a loose confederation on the Arctic coast. Each Tribe needed the other two, yet despised them. Closeness and hatred frequently bred anger, which sometimes led to violence, and there simmered hatreds which grew greater as time passed and the populations grew in the Old Tribelands.

Thou knowest what those hatreds drew from the depths of Void. The Windigoes came, and with them came the Ice. The Arctic Ocean froze solid, the fertile fields were deluged in snow and the glaciers grew and pounced from their mountain fastnesses. What had been the Old Homeland of the Tribes became the Northern Waste, home to Windigoes and Frost Giants and creatures less easily describable. Those who did not leave, or could not leave with sufficient haste -- no doubt their frozen corpses are still locked in the eternal ice.

Oh, she told thee about that? Well enow, for that was something I would fain not have revealed myself. Do not blame her for what she did, dear Twilight, for she was Cosmic then, and the Cosmic do not understand the ways of mortals, and I know she meant good to Ponykind. We have great power in our higher state, but for all our mighty intellects so little understanding of what it is to be limited. tp be mortal. We are ruthless -- I am glad to be Incarnate. I do not like my Cosmic self.

I can believe that her self cared. She has always been warmer than I. I speak only for myself, and I know that I am a force of destruction, which I with great effort try to turn to the defense of creation, and sometimes succeed in so doing. I know that I am of nature cruel, and my Cosmic self is crueller still. Thou shalt know this thyself someday, about Gravity, when we both discarnate, and we meet without the distractions of flesh.

Thou might be kind. I can easily imagine thee as kind, even when thou doth become naked Magic. But I ... I am not.

So civilization fell, for a second time in under a millennium. There was much death and suffering -- all of those in the Tribes endured freezing cold and the pangs of hunger. Perhaps half perished in the course of the Migration. A light toll, compared to the Cataclysm, though it must have seemed heavy enow to the Ponies unfortunate enough to live in that age. Celestia may have told thee that the version you played at the pageant papers over some of the grimmer parts. There are old records in the Great Library of the Crystal City that do not make joyous reading.

Through the Cataclysm, through all the changes in climate, the dust winter that lasted for years, the great thermal maximum, the onset of the ice and its partial retreat, Paradise Estate had endured. Forged of the mystic substances of the Eldren, given unto the Ponies of Dream Valley by one of the last great mages of that magical race, it sat slightly outside of time and space, in the Halfworld of the legends, and those who dwelt there were immortal.

They were mortal by nature, of course. But the magic of the Rainbow was in them, and in that place, and it preserved them through the long centuries, as outside their walls Ponies lived normal lifespans -- or often greatly shortened ones, in the world after the Cataclsym. There were wards woven around that place, cast by the strange science of the Eldren, and few might come there which they did not wish to invite within. It was a place of peace and love, in a world of war and hatred. It was a fairyland, in which the beauty and grace of the time before the Cataclysm reigned unbroken.

But there was a price, as is often the case for fairylands. If they ventured outside, the hand of time would slowly but inexorably settle upon them, and they might live out only the remainder of their mortal spans before Death claimed them. And within Paradise Estate, there had long since ceased to be growth and new birth. It was a ghost of the Olden Times, a light of knowledge, of magic and science surviving into a dark future, but a light that was very slowly dying. One could sense it there, breathing the air of stasis, the scent of a long slow ceasing.

At its height, when Paradise Estate had been the heart of the Reclamation, the taking-back of the world after the Age of Annihilation that had nearly claimed Ponykind six thousand years before the present day, three and a half millennia before even the remote past in which I was born, many dozens of mares had lived there, and many more had visited. Each month a different Big Brother Herd would come in to meet and greet their kin and their lovers, and there would be festivals and stories and matings.

Dost thou know how they had lived then? The sexes were apart, with the mare herds sedentary and the smaller stallion herds -- the "Big Brothers" -- nomadic. They had not done that because they hated each other. The light of Love shone brightly in Ponies even back then, but sheer survival dictated that they not all live together, not put all their genetic lineages in one basket. If a mare herd, or a stallion herd, was annihilated -- by one of the many monstrous perils that made the Earth a death-world for Ponies then -- the other herd would live, and it bore their genetic legacies.

I see tears in thine eyes. Yes, Twilight, they mourned their lost lovers, their murdered parents and children. They did not wish their world to be so fatal to their dear ones, but they had no choice, for they were prey and their predators many and merciless. The oldest Ponies at Paradise Estate, the ones who remembered the time before even they had been granted the Estate, told me of those times, and more than once they cried at the memories.

Toward the end, a desperate few -- Wind Whistler and Firefly were the leaders of this faction -- had started to consider that the role of predator and prey was not divinely ordained, that there was no reason in theory why the Ponies could not fight back. But they were but a few, and they had no idea how to do in practice what Firefly had felt and Wind Whistler reasoned. And they knew that at the first failure, the others would lose all hope.

Then came Tirek the Annihilator, Tirek the Undying to their last refuge and Firefly crossed the Bridge and brought back The Megan, whose race had risen up as killer apes. And she taught them the last thing they needed to know. She taught them how to kill, how to kill without remorse. She slew Tirek, though he would of course in after ages be reborn. And she fought many other warlords and fell monsters.

And then a light came into the eyes of the Ponies of Dream Valley, and they lifted weapons in their hooves, and they turned upon their tormentors, with the example of The Megan and the leadership of Firefly and Wind Whistler, whom the Megan in person taught the ways of war. And the light spread to the other Ponies who had survived, and ... by the time of the Age of Wonders, the monsters were no longer upon the face of the Earth, and Ponykind flourished in its hundreds of millions. And in most times and places, husbands and wives and children dwelt all together, and feared not an early separation at the claws of the beasts.

Dost thou wonder that they made of The Megan a goddess? She had saved Ponykind, though in time most Ponies forgot that she had been of another species entirely. Apotheosis has happened for lesser causes.

But that had been long ago, and now but a dozen or so beings still dwelt in Paradise Estate. The others had left, one after another, to rejoin the mortal world and raise families, and one after another they fell victim to Death's long-deferred reaping. Often they helped the mortal Ponies among whom they settled -- you would be surprised how many towns and realms were founded, how many arts and sciences, were restored, after the Cataclysm, by Ponies who had first drawn breath in Dream Valley. Some of their labors were swept away by Discord in the ensuing age -- but not all.

They were mostly isolated. A few mages and sages knew of Paradise Estate, and some were allowed in past the wards, and the Ponies of the Estate sometimes traveled out -- it took time for the Rainbow's protection to fade from them, so they might do this safely if they did not tarry overlong in the mortal world. There was trade of a sort, and a slow flow of news and ideas in and out.

So the Ponies of Paradise Estate knew something of the outside world. Of Lake City, founded almost a millennium ago, which had mastered an art of growing houses from regular solids, and was already better known as the Crystal Empire. Of the Land of Manehattan, island of the ruined titan towers, wrested by trickery from the savage Minotaurs three centuries ago, whose Pegasus sailors and Earth Pony merchants sailed fearlessly across all the seas.

The stone city of Lith, far to the south where the warm waters of the Gulf River flowed from Mexicolt to the Stormy Sea, where the Earth Ponies had settled two centuries ago and were already raising a mighty civilization. The Pegasus cloud-fortress of Derecho, ally of the Crystal Empire, cruising the Northern skies and with great war-engines furnished them by the Crystal-Imperials, beating back the attempts of the Northern Wastes to expand into the lands of Ponies. The magnificent Heartspire of the Unicorns, not yet sunken into decadence and worse, towering into the heavens in the lands beyond Mexicolt.

Other lands farther away, whose names were fable but from which there sometimes came strange treasures, making their way to Paradise Estate in return for some aid or knowledge.

Lost Hyperborea, whose ruins held the mysteries of Pony origins but were guarded by the Gnoph-Keh and the Frost Giants. Lands across the Stormy Sea, such as the North-Lands ruled by the Dragons, and the Griffon-Kingdoms of Taura and North Zebrica, and the Zebra nations who dwelt beyond the Burning Sands far to the south. Brave cogs made their way there, blown by winds summoned by the Pegasus sailors, and packed with wares of the wily Earth Pony merchants of Manehattan, and brought back ivory, and apes and gold.

The Badlands to the South of our own country, in which it was said the shy and secretive Flutter-Ponies still dwelt. Paradise Estate had long dealings with their Queen Rosedust, though even they found it hard to find them at times. They had a prophecy of a great doom approaching, and feared it might come from any quarter. But they trusted us more than most, for Paradise Estate had never harmed them. Poor creatures! They might have done better to flee from us as well!

We could no longer contact the Sea-Ponies as we had of old. They had fled Ponykind before the Age of Wonders, and the Cataclysm had shocked them to take refuge in the remotest deeps. There they had already interbred with older races, and now called themselves the Deep Ponies, but we might sometimes find them, and they told us tales of elder realms beneath the waves, of Many-Columned Y'ha-nthneigh, of Deep Gll'ho, and far-off Primal R'lyeh where their dead god lay dreaming. They were still our friends, though they had grown apart from the other Kinds.

Many, many lands still farther out, that we heard of from travelers' tales. Neigh-Pon of the Hundred Daimyos, Chi-Neigh of the Ten Draconates. Too many to describe, too many to even name, for I am of course delaying thee, feeding thy wondering and hungry mind with these outlines of a world that was, and is no longer. My world, the world of my innocent fillyhood, the world that my folly helped destroy. Which is the dark ending to which my tale, whether I will it or no, shall of need wend.

It was a wide and a dangerous world. There were no airships, no steamships, no railroads. There were not even any really good roads, in most places. Realms were small and quarrelsome; the unity of the Migration long since broken down by the centrifugal forces of the Settlement of Equestria, and the poor leadership of inadequate heirs to Platinum and Hurricane and Puddinghead. Everywhere, warlords and robber barons and brigands and pirates, monsters and natural obstacles, trade and travel possible only by numerous and well-armed companies. Even the immortals, armed with strange magic, unique artifacts, the marvels of technology and the experience of ages, needed to tread warily in such a world.

It was into that world that we three were born. Myself ... and my Sister ... and Him.

Discord.

Chapter 10: The Least Noticeable Pie Sister

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Bulk Biceps

Bulk at first spent an uncomfortable time sitting quietly in the laboratory with Claire.

This was uncomfortable mostly because he could talk to her but didn't know what to say to say to a giant invisible multi-headed fluffy pony. Also, he figured she couldn't talk back to him. So he sat and looked around the laboratory, which was full of all kinds of stuff whose purpose he didn't understand. There was the bank of batteries he'd noticed before, and a lot of wiring. One big table was covered with all sorts of flasks and glass tubes and there were liquids of different colors in some of them. Goldie had told him that she wasn't a mad scientist, and she actually seemed like a pretty nice old lady, but her laboratory sure looked like what one would expect a mad scientist to possess.

Finally he got bored looking around at all the equipment he didn't understand and decided to talk to Claire. Only he didn't know what to say. So he said: "Um, thanks for getting me outta there. Ponyville, I mean, heh-heh-heh." He laughed nervously.

Bulk was never a good conversationalist, even when talking to a Pony he could see clearly, let alone an invisible one. He felt kind of funny, like he was talking to himself.

Tenor trills came from the empty air, followed by a complex sound train.

He gaped uncomprehendingly.

There was a frustrated-sounding basso croak, then a sort of vast happy gasp, and a sort of wet thwapping sound, and suddenly a chalkboard wheeled itself across the lab to Claire's vicinity. A piece of chalk picked itself up and began writing.

Bulk wondered what strange words would come forth from such a peculiar Pony.

"You're very welcome, Mr. Bulk," the chalk wrote. "I was glad to be of help."

Well, that didn't seem so strange. Actually, it seemed pretty polite. He remembered the lecture Goldie had given both of them about how to behave properly, and figured Claire had probably benefited from many such lectures in the past.

"Yeah," Bulk said, nodding.

"I hope you're comfortable," Claire's chalk continued.

"Oh, yeah," said Bulk. "Um, it's okay."

"I'm staying with you in case the Twister attacks," Claire explained. "To save you again."

"Bad. If he does," Bulk said. "Um, what about Goldie?"

"He doesn't want Granny," the invisible Pony wrote. "And she's very smart. She'll be safe."

Bulk hoped so. Goldie was helping him out in a patch of rough air. He didn't like to think of the nice old mare getting hurt.

They conversed for a long while, for there was not much else to do while Goldie made the rounds of her wards. Claire got him some grape juice and various foodstuffs, cakes and plates, pots and pans from Granny's kitchen -- she wasn't sure if it was sure for okay for Bulk to be in the rest of the house, so she simply opened a portal, and the required foodstuffs came sailing out of it, presumably on the ends of her tentacles. Claire also picked up a whole bundle of bread loaves and a tub of grape jam.

Claire insisted on making him some sandwiches. She turned on one of Goldie's lab burners and pan-fried some eggs and cheese, and served them to him as sandwiches with sliced tomato. She wasn't the world's best cook, but her food was edible, and Bulk wasn't even sure how she handled anything properly with those huge wet tentacles of hers. Bulk was pretty hungry after his unusual day, and he was grateful for the food.

Then she whipped herself up a whole potful of scrambled eggs with cheese, chopped up more tomatoes into the mix, and at the same time slathered jam all over the large loafs of bread. The food was conveyed seemingly through thin air to a point -- several distinct points, actually -- where it started to be torn apart with great munching and crunching and slurping sounds. Claire was a noisy eater.

And a messy one, Bulk thought at first, as he saw the chewed up bits of food apparently falling to the floor. Then he realized that they weren't -- instead that they were moving with moderate speed down some sort of invisible tubes to a point where they seemed to be getting very soggy. It was one of the strangest things Bulk had ever seen.

"Huh?" asked Bulk. "What are you doing?"

"Eating," wrote Claire. "I know it can appear alarming if you don't know me. Food and liquids that I ingest are visible to your eyes for a while until they get properly mixed with me, then they become transparent to visible light just as I am. I actually don't eat as often as normal Ponies, and I usually eat more than you're seeing me eat here, but I wanted to be sociable. Sorry if it bothers you." She wrote a little frowny face at the end of the last sentence.

"Oh, nah, it's okay," said Bulk. "Just surprised me. Um, where's your mouth, exactly? I saw food going in a lot of places."

"I'm a little unusual," Claire wrote. "I look kind of like this ..." She began sketching on the chalkboard, a creature that looked vaguely like a Pony with as much fluffy hair as a sheep in need of shearing, its mane the same color as its coat and sort of merging into it. But that was not the strange part of it.

To begin with, Bulk could immediately see as she drew the outline of the legs that there were too many. Claire took pains to draw them posed at an angle that let him see just how, many legs. There were eight of them, and something was odd about the shapes of the hooves. There were also five heads visible, one where you'd expect to find a head on the front of the body, one really-big one on the top that looked a bit like Goldie's head, and one over the shoulder and hip with a small head between them -- Bulk counted under his breath and realized that if the creature were symmetrical there would have to be eight in total.

Bulk gasped and shuddered as he fully perceived the monstrous outline, sat down and looked at the sketch in astonishment. It seemed impossible that anything of Pony born could actually look like this, and even more impossible that he was actually sitting in the same room as such a bizarre monstrosity. However, that anatomy would explain everything about his experience, save for one thing.

"Where are the tentacles?

"Oh!" he heard aloud in a distinct polyphonic tenor. Then on the chalkboard. "Sorry, forgot to show you." The chalk moved and drew a chalkboard. The eraser scuffed out part of one head and redrew it with an open mouth. From the mouth proceeded a very long tongue which reached out and almost touched the depicted chalkboard, a tongue somehow held at the tip of the tentacle. "They're my tongues," the written text explained.

Bulk backed up in shock and surprise. "Wait," he said, "those long wet things are your tongues?" His voice quavered.

"I'm sorry if it bothers you." Frowny face. "They're the only good way I have to hold things -- my hooves aren't like yours, they don't have suckers or a grip-field, but my tongues have both. I can move my hairs around but even my hairs aren't long enough to grip anything at a distance. You don't need to worry -- I wouldn't do anything mean or nasty to you with them. I'm sorry I had to touch you without asking but Pinkie asked me to save you, and the Twister was after you -- and you don't understand what I say aloud. I'm sorry."

Bulk thought about it. "It's okay," he said. "You saved me. Just surprised. Sorry" He looked at the very strange picture on the board. "Some spell?" he asked.

"I was born this way," Claire wrote.

"Oh," said Bulk, ears drooping. That sounded rough.

"I'm not sad," she wrote. "My families love me. My birth family ... and my husbands."

"Husbands?" he asked.

"The Flappies," she wrote. "You haven't met them yet. They look like this ..." she went to work with the chalk.

The things she drew might have come out a nightmare. They were bat-winged, quadrupedal creatures that had something in their outline that resembled crows, or ants, or half-skeletal Ponies. There were five of them, and Bulk could see from the way she drew them that she was representing five individuals. She drew little lines and arrows pointing to each one. The smallest one was "Little Flappy," and somehow she'd drawn him in a posture of alert intelligence. One huge one was "Tiny," the second smallest one "Dash," the second biggest one "Saintly," and a medium sized one with really long talons "Slasher."

They were definitely not Ponies.

"Husbands?" he asked.

"Wouldn't be decent otherwise," wrote Claire. "We live together. We love each other. Married." The chalk flew and drew lots of little hearts coming up off the big multi-headed Pony and the five winged horrors, then after the text a smiley-face with hearts for eyes and the letters "XXXOOO."

Bulk had to allow as that made sense. The strange kind of sense that things on this farm generally made. Ponies sometimes fell in love with, even married, non-Ponies -- that's where hippogriffs and ki-rin came from, when Ponies mated with Griffons or Dragons. And polygamous marriages, while not the norm in Equestria, were accepted assuming that all parties consented. Though one mare wedding five ... whatever they were ... was a bit extreme.

"Where are they now?" he wondered, trying not to communicate the fact that the very image of the Flappies filled him with primal dread. It was very obvious, in every line of their anatomy from their toothy beaks to their long sharp claws and talons, that these were predators. Though, given whom they'd chosen to wed, they probably didn't eat Ponies. Probably.

"Patrolling," came Claire's written answer. She then erased some of her earlier messages, but left the picture of herself and her Flappies. "Against air attack. It's happened before; that time Maud beat it."

"Beat what?" Bulk asked.

"Dragon," Claire replied. "Big, much bigger than me. Maud punched it. Broke its neck. It got Grandpa and some of our cousins." Frowny face with a stylized tear. "We planted the Dragon's bones and scales, got a good harvest, but I still miss Grandpa. Granny misses him most."

"You have Dragons here?" asked Bulk in astonishment.

"No. It came from elsewhere. Paradise said it was possessed -- a Nightdrake. Probably was after Pinkie."

Bulk didn't understand half of what Claire had just told him, but he was starting to realize that a lot of stuff happened on this rock farm. Dangerous stuff.

On the one hoof, this kind of comforted him. The Pies had dealt with this kind of stuff before. On the other hoof, this scared him. He was staying at a place which had been the target of some sort of demon-dragons. The comfort was stronger, for the very uncomfortable reason that he had one of the most dire demons in the history of Ponies mad at him right now. Which was not a very comforting thought.

"Are you going to marry Fluttershy?" the rapidly scritching chalk asked him.

"Um ... uh ..." said Bulk, blushing. "I dunno ... I like her ... love her ... um ..." There was something really strange about talking about this kind of thing with an eight-headed giant invisible Pony who communicated by writing on a chalkboard, and with a pretty high vocabulary, too. Felt like taking some very weird test back in school -- if any of his teachers had been a giant invisible Pony, that is. Which none actually had been.

"Why not marry her then?" Claire's chalk persisted.

"Only known her a few months," Bulk pointed out. "Not sure she likes me that much."

"She does," Claire wrote bluntly. "I can tell."

"How?" asked Bulk, imagining that a giant multi-headed invisible Pony might have all kind of special senses denied to normal Ponies.

A sort of multiple chuckle came from the empty air.

"I have noses," Claire wrote. "Granny has a roof tank she keeps filled, and a bath upstairs in the main house. Just go up the stairs to the end of the hall. Cold water only -- that okay?" she asked.

When Bulk realized exactly what Claire meant, he blushed even harder. He could feel it all down his neck onto his chest. Bulk was glad he couldn't see himself in a mirror, because he knew that showed plainly through his white coat.

And he took the bath. Used a lot of soap, too.

***

After his bath he toweled off and padded back into the laboratory, where Claire was still waiting. Fortunately she didn't ask him any more questions about whether or not he was going to marry Fluttershy. He'd thought a lot about Fluttershy in the shower -- which made it lucky for the remnants of his dignity that it had been a cold one.

The truth is that he would have said "yes" to Fluttershy in an instant, if she asked him. He was afraid to ask her, though, because it was really plain to him that Fluttershy was way out of his league. He didn't understand why she wanted him even as a lover -- he was big and strong, yeah, but he was no good at talking to mares.

Aside from his failed marriage, his experience of romance had been hanging out around Cloud Kicker's fast set, sometimes when he got really lonely, and none of those mares were ones he'd even remotely think of trusting to help bring up Featherweight. That colt had not been quite right in the head since the Day of Discord, when something Featherweight was completely unable to tell him but very bad had obviously happened. He needed a really nice and understanding step-mom.

Fluttershy was in a totally-different class than anypony he'd ever been with before. Literally in a different class than most of them -- her vocabulary and manners made it obvious that she was from one of the Old Clans -- he'd never asked her about this because she never told him anything about her family.

He'd known her last name was "Wind," but assumed that she was from some sort of obscure branch of that family -- the Winds were really old, not just dating back to the Time of Thrones like the Kickers, but going all the way back to the oldest legends, to the time of the Three Tribes. Wasn't Commander Hurricane the Great a Wind, or something like that?. He wished he'd paid attention in school.

If she was even Old Clans she probably didn't want to marry him. Bulk's family were solid lower middle class -- decent workponies who mostly used their muscles instead of their minds to make their livings. Bulk was actually more successful than most of them, because he'd been accepted into the Wonderbolts. If she was one of the Winds, and a "High Lady" to boot ... no way would somepony that highborn be interested in him that kind of way.

Except that she obviously was interested in him that kind of way. So, was she just playing with him?

Bulk had trouble believing this of Fluttershy. She was too kind, too sweet and loving to him -- and she was obviously not very experienced with stallions -- she hadn't been a virgin, but she'd been clearly close to it. She was pretty much the opposite of the mares from Cloud Kicker's coterie. With them he'd always felt like some large slab of meat with an identity inconveniently attached; she talked to him about her day, and asked him about his; she was curious about his thoughts and hopes and dreams. With Fluttershy, their friendship was very much the main thing, sex simply something that made it sweeter. They'd only been lovers in the full physical sense for the last week, anyway -- they'd been friends ever since that trip together to the qualifying meet at Rainbow Falls. three months ago. None of this made any sense if she was only pretending to care for him.

He figured he'd better not question things. Not much good could come of questioning something so wonderful that had come into his life, just when he'd figured that real love was something that was pretty much over for him since the divorce. He and Fluttershy felt what they felt about each other, that was that, and he wasn't going to do anything to make her leave him. She was high above him, and he'd love her as long as she'd have him, and then, he figured, he'd just have to deal with her decision to give him up when it came. Which decision, he thought in a painful pang of realism, seemed pretty much fated to happen eventually.

If the Twister didn't get him first, of course. Yeah, that'd end all his problems. At least all his present problems.

***

Claire told him more about life on the rock farm. Some of it sounded boring and some of it cute and some of it unbelievable. Among the unbelieveable stories were the time that a toddler Pinkie Pie ran off a cliff and their elder sister Maud discovered she could -- sort of -- fly, and did so to save her younger sister. Claire said that she might show him the crater Maud left in the solid rock when she landed. Or the time that Claire herself had almost been kidnapped by some mad cultists who wanted to force her to open a Gate to somewhere nasty. Or the time that the ghost of King Sombra had haunted their west field, claiming that as his kin they owed him crystals.

"He thinks you're kin?" Bulk asked her. When he'd been to the Crystal Empire, he'd heard of Sombra as some kind of demon tyrant who had thrown them out of time for a thousand years.

"We are," Claire wrote. She quickly sketched a skeletal family tree, labeled "Quartzes." There were five siblings, the youngest being a stallion named Crimson Quartz and the second youngest a mare named Iolite Quartz. She explained something about the oldest sibling, Morion Quartz, becoming Emperor of the Crystal Empire and driving out the three youngest. From Iolite she drew a dashed line of descent marked "1000 years" leading down to Jasper Quartz, who married Goldie Pie, who bore Cloudy Quartz, who was the mother of the all five Pie Sisters. To Crimson Quartz she appended two words: "King Sombra."

"So you see," she wrote, "we really all are Princesses of the Crystal Empire, including Granny by marriage.. We just haven't told them yet." And she made one of those weird multiple-throated chuckles.

"What did you do about the ghost?" he asked her.

"We gave him some crystals," she wrote matter-of-factly. "We have tons. Literally tons, with a decent harvest. He went away happy."

He wasn't sure if she was kidding him. It was hard to read invisible faces, even if she said she had eight of them.

At this point Goldie Pie walked back in through the door. She looked tired, her mane drooping, her hooves dragging, the elaborately carved staff less a sign of her magecraft than a support for her weary body in truth.

"Whew!" she said. "That took it out of me. T'aint so young anymore, and that's the truth. Could've gotten all the Daughters together to help on this, but that would've taken time, and I wanted to get this done fast, afore the Twister got any nasty ideas." She looked at Bulk, her eyes only semi-focusing. "Tightened up the wards all around this house and the farm. You should be safe long as you don't stray. Claire, why don't you take our guest down to the main farm, let him meet the rest of your family. Me, I'm for some vittles and an nap."

Claire made a complex train of tenor noises, among which Bulk thought he could catch a mushy-sounding "Bulk" and "vittles" and "bath."

"Oh, that's all right, Claire-Bear, he's our guest," Goldie said, yawning. "Just Gate me in to town tomorrow so I can get some shopping done, nothing to mind."

Bulk felt a bit guilty about having accepted all the kindnesses of Goldie and Claire and given them none in return. "Hey, is there anything I could do for you? Maybe help out?" he asked.

"Naw,"said Goldie, "I don't need any help here. But Igneous -- my Cloudy's husband -- he can always use a strong back and willing hooves on the farm. You look strong -- and I guess you're willing?"

"Yeah!" said Bulk enthusiastically.

He very much wanted to no longer be helpless.

Chapter 11: Dissy's Youth Remembered

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Discord

Deep in the Everfree Forest there was a rise in the floor of a valley running between two mountains. On the top of this rise, near the edge where it fell away to the valley floor, there was a smaller rise -- a sort of hillock. A hypothetical archaeologist, noting the flattened top and regular outlines of this hillock, would have termed it a "tell" -- the characteristic pile of debris and piled garbage left behind by a structure occupied by sapients over a long period of time.

The archaeologist would have been correct. And she was not even all that hypothetical -- Daring Do, to be specific, had been to this very spot, and had recognized the general nature of what she had seen. She had only the time for a very quick sample, but it had made its way into one of her private notebooks.

"Old building, probably a large steading or small village, pre-Discordian, inhabited from at least the early Cataclysm on, abandoned just before or right after the Coming of Discord. Estimated occupancy between around 2000 and 1000 years BTH. Probably of Pony origin.

She'd been rather busy on another errand, and hadn't been able to stop to do any real archaeology. She didn't consider the tell interesting enough to mention in any of her published works.

Which was a shame, really, because this place was even older, and its history more spectacular, than even any of her exploits.

Discord twisted himself through the paths of least resistance through spacetime and emerged on a hillside overlooking the tell. There had once been a big old oak tree here he had loved; not because he had any particular fondness for plants -- That was more Posey's thing -- but because it was the perfect place for a picnic. It had been frequently used for exactly that purpose, most particularly by two strange sisters and an even stranger only child, who were strange in that none of them were of any previously known Kind. Three strange children who were the best of friends, which was good because they were the only children in their microcosmic social world.

His memories conjured their ghosts -- not true ghosts, since all three of them were alive and well, but traces in his mind, which his powers animated as half-tangible energy forms. A lovely white filly, whose pink mane seemed to gather in and shine with sunlight, illuminating an otherwise gloomy world with her grace and kindness. A cute blue one; a wonderful pal, who was brave and always game for any adventure,. And an awkward little draconequus, who was happy to be with his boon companions.

His mind flickered through the memories. Early picnics here -- they were just foals, tumbling and playing around their mothers. The mother of the two fillies -- a figure who had always filled him with fear -- a green Unicorn whose mane was a a swirl of dark green and blue and red, whose colors seemed to shift unpredictably, and whose hooves were shod with twists of energy that pained his own eyes to look too long upon, and whose own eyes seemed to regard young Dissy with cold suspicion -- Mimic.

Why did you distrust me even then?, full-grown Discord wondered. I was just a foal then, I hadn't done anything to you, yet. Did you always somehow know what I was, or suspect it by the power of what you wore on your hooves? The left side of his jaw hurt when he thought too long about that, as if the wound had been dealt him yesterday instead of over two and a half millennia ago.

And another one -- a pink Earth Pony with a greenish-brown streaked mane and a somewhat unfocused expression in her green eyes, except when she looked at little Dissy. Then, her eyes shone with love. Shady, he thought. Then, Mother ... Adult Discord felt a strange tugging at his heart when he looked at her. She was only the mother of this Incarnation, of course. But she was the only mother he'd ever really loved ...

By the time he was a few years older than this, he had understood that she was weak and timid, but he only loved her the more for it, for it meant that he had to protect her. In those days, he'd been very protective. In recent days, he'd started to want to protect somepony weak and timid, too -- until she'd turned on him.

It hurt him to look at Shady as well, but for entirely different reasons. For she'd turned on him in her own way too, at the very last, at the end of his thousand-year reign. Turned on him and fought him. And done so to far greater effect, for she'd done so with the scythe he himself had made for her, and he had been unable to defend himself against her, though he could have destroyed her in an instant. A colt should not strike his own mother ...

And she'd still loved him, even then, even as she helped his former two best friends defeat him. That was the irony of it. At the end, he'd been struck down by the three Ponies he cared for most. Perhaps they were the only ones who could have defeated him. Perhaps he could only, really, be hurt by those he loved.

But this was more than a thousand years before the day he was defeated, and there was no conflict in this scene beyond the rough and tumble of healthy young foals, nothing but love. Young Dissy romped with little Celly and Lulu, chasing after a giggling Celly who looked merrily back at him, then squeaked as he nipped her small tail. An even smaller Lulu, wearing an expression of comically-fierce concentration, rammed him from the side, knocking him over and standing atop his long serpentine body, glaring down at him and biting him with her little foal-teeth, gripping one of his coils and growling like a small dog, holding on as he squirmed, laughed and caught her in his coils.

Adult Discord watched and smiled to himself, an smile of pure joy, a smile that was utterly free of any trace of malice. For he'd never hated the Sisters, never really wanted to harm them -- he'd only ever wanted to play with them, it was just that his definition of "play" had changed somewhat after his twentieth year of life. He'd wished that they could appreciate his new outlook on life, but they'd never been sufficiently flexible. They'd never really understood.

In his current strange mental state, strange even for him, torn between his older and younger Selves, all his actions had a unity to them that they often lacked, almost as if his personality was whole and boring like those of most other beings. And he knew that he still thought of them as his friends, even if they no longer thought of him in such a fashion. That he would think of them as his friends until the day he permanently discarnated from this Aspect -- and maybe even after.

Other picnics flashed through his mind. They grew older and older -- itself unusual, for in Paradise Estate all maturation was very greatly slowed. It was as if their own development was following a plan laid more deeply and mightily than that of the ancient Eldren scientist-mages who had created this place, driven by a power as far beyond them as they had been beyond ordinary Ponies. Which was, of couse, exactly what was happening. At the time, they were just glad that they wouldn't have to be eternal foals.

Now they were no longer foals, but a colt and two fillies, growing bigger and stronger with every passing year. The sunlight gathered more about the white filly, the shadows about the midnight-blue. In some lights it seemed as if the rainbow sparkled in Celly's pink mane; little twinking lights like stars began to glisten in Lulu's. Power was beginning to gather around them as well, though they still knew nothing of what it meant.

And his own younger self? He was growing even faster, becoming ever larger than his two best friends, though still much smaller than he was today. He was starting to look at the other Ponies, at the pictures of the long-vanished Big Brothers and the forms of the occasional visitors from the outside world, and he was starting to realize that he was not truly of their species, that he was something unlike anything the Ponies had ever seen before, had powers unlike anything they had ever seen before.

Some of the other Ponies were growing suspicious of him. Mimic had never trusted him, of course, and the others were beginning to grow afraid. His mother Shady still loved him of course, and Posey and Surprise, who were themselves childlike in many ways, were almost like older playmates, constantly amused by the strange things he made and did with his emerging, ever-growing magical powers. They would hear no ill of him.

Mimic, Galaxy the fire-mage; and Star-Reacher, the mysterious housekeeper who had come from the wilderness just before Celly and Luna had been born: they had never truly trusted him. They began to eye Dissy more and more uneasily as his powers grew, as the monsters came out of the woods to fawn before him and lick his mismatched hands.

And Wind Whistler, wise and scholarly, who had always been the teacher to the three strange children, began to give him very curious looks. He knew that she was constantly bargaining with the occasional outsiders, offering them valuable artifacts in return for certain rare books, ones which it was said dated back not only back before the Cataclysm but before Paradise Estate, to a mythical time at the start of history when it was said that two beings -- a white goddess and a strange chimeric dragon-thing, had come down from the stars to contest -- or play -- for the destiny of Ponykind. But Wind Whistler could never obtain them.

And sometimes when Wind Whistler's eyes narrowed upon him, he remembered that she had another side than the gentle scholar they all knew. That she had been Wind Whistler the War Leader, the one who along with spunky, funny Firefly had been the first Ponies to take up arms against the forces of Tirek, had borne The Megan herself into battle, had led Ponykind in the Reclamation of the Earth from the Monsters. That according to the records of those days, she had been the most dangerous warrior ever born to mortal Ponies, mind and body united in perfect harmony, moving with economy and grace and utter lethality, like a reaper harvesting the foe.

Adult-Discord watched the children growing older, their play becoming more complex.

He remembered how Celly had invented the Princess Game, which became their favorite. Celly would be the Princess and she would send Lulu and Dissy on quests to slay monsters. Lulu always wanted to be her big sister's War-Leader, and Dissy would sometimes be a brave Knight who was her Companion, and sometimes the Monster Lulu had to slay. Celly didn't care which Dissy was, but Lulu really liked it when Dissy was her Knight-Companion. Sometimes they got Spike into the game, to be either a Knight-Companion or Monster.

Celly was always good at looking beautiful and regal, making a very convincing Princess, whether she was sitting on some chair she had pressed into the role of her throne, or being the captive of the Monster. She would always be very cunning and crafty, and sometimes she would escape the Monster by trickery before Lulu and her Companions could get there. One time when Dissy and Spike were both playing Monsters, she tricked them into fighting each other and escaped while they were arguing.

They talked about what they wanted to do with their lives. As young fillies and a colt, their ambitions were of course exactly like the games they played.

Celly, of course, wanted to be a Princess. "I'll rule the land wisely and fairly and bring justice to all and I'll be really beautiful and everypony will love me!" she explained. And Dissy and Lulu could see no flaw with this plan.

"I'll be the War-Leader, fearsome to the foe but beloved by my friends, commander of the war-host, who will defend your realm and keep our Ponies safe from the Monsters!" Lulu declared, a fierce light shining in her innocent blue eyes.

"And I'll be the brave Knight, who fights with honor against the Monsters and wins the day for my Princess!" said Dissy.

"And you'll be my Companion," said Lulu.

"Well yes, I'll serve my Princess," said Dissy.

"No, you'll be my Companion," insisted Lulu.

"I'll be Companion to you both," replied Dissy, trying to placate her. But it never seemed to fully work.

She'd been so possessive, even as a small filly! She was a great friend, but often hard to understand.

Now they went up the hill and picnicked beneath the tree together, sometimes with Spike but increasingly just the three of them. Things were starting to change within them, and between them. Celly's legs grew long and her gait increasingly graceful, and sometimes her mane would flow about her in a manner that took Dissy's breath away, or her tail would twitch with a curious insistence when she walked that Dissy found very distracting.

It became dangerous to look at her face, for one risked drowning in her luminous purple eyes. It was even more dangerous to look at any other part of her. The very scent of her was becoming intoxicating, and if that long pink mane, which increasingly sparkled with all the colors of the rainbow, happened to pass across his own face, his breath would catch, his heart seem to stop beating for a painfully magical moment. It was like nothing he'd known before.

Wind Whistler had taught them all basic biology, Dissy had read the love stories of a hundred cultures in the Estate's copious libraries; he understood theoretically what was happening to both of them; but no theory, no tale could be as frightening and mysterious and wonderful as the reality. All the firm ground of their friendship seemed to be shifting -- sometimes he felt as if he was sinking into a swamp, sometimes soaring into the air without even having to use his wings.

Lulu was changing, too. She was gaining a loveliness of her own, a dark mysterious marehood that was like the cool of moonlight dappling shadows in some hidden garden. Nothing like her sister's, of course, but that was all right. She was still his friend, and he found himself more comfortable with the cooler presence of Lulu than he was with the incandescent blaze of beauty that was her elder sister. Only even there the ground was unstable.

Sometimes she would be eager to go places with him; happy to share adventures with her friend, and it would be just like the good old days. If anything she'd be even friendlier than she used to be, hanging on his every word, those big blue eyes shining with fellowship and good cheer, fixed on his own face. She'd pay him all sorts of compliments, too, calling him "mine own dearest friend" and "sweet Dissy," pleasant nonsense of that sort.

Sometimes, though, she'd be all moody and hard to please, and it seemed as if she would become unpredictably angry at the most harmless things he said. And he soon learned not to try to confide to Lulu the strange sensations he was having around Celly -- that seemed to get her angriest of all. He had always known that she could be very possessive, and figured that she didn't like the idea of someone being attracted to her sister, even if it was their mutual best friend..

More years passed. The time came when two figures went up to picnic: Dissy and Celly, and Lulu nowhere to be seen. She'd come to realize that they had very private matters to discuss, and Dissy thought she was very nice about giving them time alone together, though Celly grew sad when he mentioned this, so he did not mention it again. They had sat and talked long that day, while the Sun made its rounds and made of Celly's mane a glory, he in awe of her beauty.

And before that day had ended they had spoken words, and exchanged pledges, which had meant so much to them then, though they had of course been revealed for the worthless drivel they were when he had Awakened. Or had they been worthless? They had been both so happy as they came down from the hill that evening, the Sun setting in the west and the twilight settling on Dream Valley, as the crepuscular creatures came out to prowl, and his heart felt so light despite it being bonded to hers.

They had met like this several times before the nightmares came back, the final bout of nightmares that had ended it all. And it had been sweet, so sweet that the memory now pained him. For in the thousand years that he had ruled the planet, nothing -- nothing -- had made him so happy as the adoration that shone in a pair of purple eyes, the look of the world around him as seen through a long pink mane falling around his face as he lay twined in love with its owner.

And if a pair of blue eyes had noted their comings and goings: once-admiring blue eyes now being clouded by jealousy and unrequited longing -- neither of them had noticed.

Or thought it important -- at the time.

Not that it mattered much anyway. For the dreams got worse and worse, and within a few days he Awoke.

And after that, nothing was ever the same again.

Chapter 12: The Creatures From Beyond

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Luna

He was the first of us to be born.

Thou hast doubtless heard of this from my Sister, no doubt. Of Shady, emotionally the weakest and most easily distracted of all the immortal Ponies of Paradise Estate, who brewed strange substances in an effort to regain the gladness she had felt when she was young and the world easily divisible into friends and monsters. The complexities of divided loyalties, the loss of friends and lovers over centuries of time, the unfairness of a life in which she had been part of the grand glorious Reclamation, only to see the harmony of those early times fall to fanaticism and hate, then witness an enlightenment and rise to the Age of Wonders, only for that Age's highest dream to come crashing down in Cataclysm; all this had worn down her soul.

And though Shady's ageless form was immune to Time, her disordered mind was sick with a malady incurable by any skill Paradise Estate possessed, and close to dying. So she made her medicines, which lightened her heart or brought her visions of those she had loved and lost for ever, letting her know peace for a short time, until she needed her next dose.

Perhaps something she compounded opened her to darker influences than she imagined -- for Shady was always one to hope for kindness in strangers, always one hurt when the world proved crueler than she expected. There are drugs which can weaken the barriers between the world of flesh and that of spirit, and there are things that wait outside our world seeking vulnerable hosts. And the Cosmic Discord is lazy, but he is also subtle, and ever one to spy a way in to a guarded place. Never mistake his indolence for simplicity.

So it was that Shady conceived, though she had not lain with any stallion for many long decades. And she was seized with a strange dread, and fled Paradise Estate, the only place on Earth where she was safe, into the wilderness. There was privation, there were brigands, there were monsters, there were warlocks who well guessed what secrets lay within our Veil and would have done far worse than to abuse one poor confused immortal mare to obtain them. There were potential dangers all around, and some fell influence seemed to be drawing evil along her trail.

Yet none of them touched Shady. Wandering aimlessly, she always found food, always found water, and these were wholesome and pure, and more than enough for her, as if something was warping her worldines to lead her ever toward sustenance. The brigands fell to quarreling with one another and died by the hands of one another, or fell victim to the monsters, without Shady's gentle eyes ever being troubled by the sight of any violence. Sometimes the monsters came, but only to fawn upon Shady, who imagined them but some of the many hallucinations to which her damaged mind was always prone.

The warlocks were drawn to her, all right, to the vast Power which they sensed growing in her womb, but they were drawn like moths to the flame, for their own magics turned against them and surged from them, feeding something terrible. Some were burned alive, some struck by lightning, some swallowed by the very earth, some drowned in floods. Some suffered worse fates -- they were twisted, turned into monstrous things that cried out to the searchers to end their anguish.

For of course there were searchers. Shady may have been the least of those immortals, but she was still one of their herd, and they loved her and feared for her life, wandering alone as she was in the wild outside the Veils. After they saw the fates of the brigands and warlocks, they took with them some artifacts from the Estate, and none of the searchers were afflicted as had been those unfortunate Ponies.

Strangely, though the most expert trackers on the Estate sought Shady, though she was scarcely expert in woodcraft herself, and though -- through the dire fates that befell her potential foes -- she was literally leaving a trail of corpses behind her; Shady's trail could not be followed. Seemingly clear sign would dwindle to nothing, paths which should have led straight were changed, and the fresher her marks became, the more confused were their meanings. Wind Whistler's deductions, Galaxy's hunches, Twilight's wishes -- nothing worked to dispel what was obviously some illusion sent out to cloud the minds of the searchers. And what worried them the most was that this was something far beyond Shady's own powers.

Finally they gave up Shady as lost. If they spent too long outside the Veil, they risked losing their own immortality, and they feared that the curse upon those who sought her might eventually work its way through their wards. They did not want to risk losing more of their little herd. They had become, thou mayest have discerned -- far too timid after three and a half thousand years incarnate. I pray that I may never become so cautious!

So Shady gave birth, months later, alone in the wilderness.

It was a difficult birth, and it nearly killed her. It would have killed her had the newborn not teleported himself and herself back to Paradise Estate, where her friends saved her life. Once again within the ambit of the Rainbow, it was easy -- her body began regenerating even as Wind Whistler and Posey ministered to her. And everypony stared in horror at the thing to which she had given birth.

The Ponies of Paradise Estate were, of course, familiar with many species of intelligent life. And they knew better than to assume that a frightful form meant a foe, or a fair form a friend. Though to actually see such a chimeric being born from a Pony ... this reminded Wind Whistler of ancient and unsettling prophecies, terrible warnings of the advent of an Anti-Megan who would wreck the world of Ponykind as thoroughly as The Megan had once saved it, and plunge all into a thousand years of Chaos.

But Wind Whistler did not know the meaning of this strange birth. And uncertain, she could not kill a helpless foal. She was the most ruthless member of her herd, but she was also one of the most decent and honorable. We are a kindly species -- to us foal-killing is among the worst of sins.

Thou seest me as ruthless, but also very decent and honorable? Much as Wind Whistler? I am touched by thy praise -- thy good opinion meanest much to me. And it is a flattering comparison -- Wind Whistler was a truly great Pony, despite her lack of any special powers. I hope that I remain high in thy esteem, by the time I reach the end of this tale ...

Thou knowest his form well as it is today. Imagine him smaller, stubbier, rounder, his eyes wide with innocence, no marks of millennial malice upon his countenance. I was not yet even conceived, but I later gazed upon his baby pictures. And ... I knew him so well later ...

He loved his mother Shady, but was at first terrified of all other Ponies, glaring and hissing at them, hiding under Shady if they came too close. And though Shady had at first been terrified of her strange foal, but quickly she came to love him uncommon fierce, and she would permit none to approach him save by her leave. As sometimes happens, she found in her mother-love a new life purpose, and when he was with her she was happier than she had been for centuries.

Shady did not know what to call him. "Baby Shady" -- the standard name of the young in the Time of Extermination, and thus in Paradise Estate, was simply "Baby" prefixed to the mother's name for fillies, or father's name for colts, until their Marks appeared -- somehow did not seem right. Then she dreamed of a great horned serpent, so huge that it encircled the world like Jörmungandr in the myths of the Northern Islands, and it told her that her foal's name was "Discord."

So her foal was named. It was an ugly name, implying disharmony, and it was soon shortened to "Dissy," by which name we -- my Sister and I -- much prefer to call him when we speak of the days of his innocent youth. For truly that colt did not deserve to be tarred in memory with the dire deeds of his later life.

It was a month before Shady recovered. Thou might think that this was because of the rude surroundings of her labor, but this was unusual -- Paradise Estate had medicines devised in the Age of Wonders, and thou shouldst remember that the Rainbow also strove to heal her. It was as if something had drained Shady, and Wind Whistler bethought herself of the drained and dying warlocks, and wondered if similar effects had proceeded from similar causes.

But again there was no proof.

Masquerade, who was canny and often saw truths that were well-hidden, must have suspected something, for she left one day, unannounced and bearing off with her copies of many crucial books. At the time they mourned her defection and the absence of those books -- later they were right well glad of both!.

This would neither be the last time they saw her nor those books, and the salvation of both was almost surely due to her wisdom. Had she told them where she went, he would have known, or, to speak more strictly -- What watched over the innocent little foal. And I think It would have destroyed Masquerade, as It had all threats to the survival of this Aspect.

There came more uncanny signs. He feared the Rainbow, and though he could bear its existence at the Estate, when directly before it he would hiss and shrink and hide from its glory. If forced to suffer its presence for long he would become sick, and Shady swiftly forbade further experiments. Never before had anything good feared or been harmed by the Rainbow, a fact which increased Wind Whistler's misgivings.

Yet little Dissy did nothing actually bad, anything to justify Wind Whistler's darkest fears. He cried, and complained, and made messes, but that was hardly uncommon for a foal. He had strange insights -- he seemed to ken things that he should have had no way to learn -- but, thou must ken that each and every denizen of Paradise Estate had their own unusual uncanny powers. We were all enchanted, all unique -- all ridden by our own strange destinies.

Rather a lot like thee and thine own Companions, really.

One thing worried them. After Shady dreamed of the great horned serpent, Dissy began dreaming of it as well. Nightmares, from which he awoke screaming and trying to hide under Shady. He told them of this when he developed the power of speech -- which came early, and he said: "It's looking for me. It wants me. If it catches me, I won't be any more."

The Ponies of Paradise Estate had far too much experience with dark supernatural forces to take that lightly. It occurred to them all that -- fundamentally harmless as little Dissy seemed -- Whatever sired him might be much more malign. Galaxy, Mimic and Twilight the First reinforced the Veil and the other wards around the Estate, while Wind Whistler redoubled her researches, reading about the Jörmungandr and everything like it in every myth and tale, trying to understand what Dissy was, and What wanted him.

The truth was, of course, beyond her ability to find in the books in our Estate. The truth might have been beyond the sum and total knowledge of the Age of Wonders even after the Magic came back. Would even the Moochick, that strange survival of a strange species, have known? His library was now part of Wind Whistler's own, and she could not find the truth in there. And she was perhaps the wisest Pony that ever was -- I wish that thou might have had meeting with her, dear Twilight. The speech between you twain would have been something truly wondrous to witness.

There was a very old legend which seemed to fit. Of two great families of gods, or demons, or embodiments of natural forces, which had together created the universe and warred over it since the Dawn of Time. This was connected with the other old legend, that when Ponykind had been young, a white goddess and a great serpent had met in love, or war, or play to between them create its earliest civilizations.

There were frequent references to the Seven Cryptical Books of Hsoof, which to Wind Whistler's frustration seemed to be available neither in our own library nor that of the Crystal City. The original had been penned by the Chi-Neighse, the inhabitants of the Empire of the Celestial Dragons, far to the West, across the vast and hostile Cruel Sea. There might be a copy in the Heartspire of the High Unicorns, in the southwest of North Amareica itself, but they did not part with their lore lightly. Going to either place would itself be a long and difficult quest, and they were too few then to mount such a venture.

Wind Whistler was not herself much of a mage -- that she had any skill at all in that field, as a Pegasus, was solely due to her vast lore. Galaxy, Mimic and Twilight were our mages, and though they did not make much of it, they had the lore and skill of three and a half thousand years of life on which to draw. They were perhaps the most powerful mages on the Earth, until Dissy was born, and they did not yet know Dissy's power. Or of That which hunted him.

Mimic did a very brave thing -- a rash deed, as Wind Whistler later told her. Mayhaps she was fated to do this. Could any other Pony, one not the bearer of the Horseshoes, have survived the consequences?

She went outside the veil, with only Twilight for companion. There she cast a scrying spell ... one designed to open her to outside influences. She was hoping to contact the other race of demons, the ones opposed to the great serpents. They had a somewhat better reputation -- in some of the legends, they had been characterized as messengers from the All-Father Himself. Still, what she did was far from safe. And she knew it.

With Twilight weaving wards against malign forces, Mimic cast her spell. And it worked. Though the only obvious and immediate consequence was that she gasped and fainted, right before the eyes of her horrified friend.

Twilight brought Mimic back to the estate. Wind Whistler and Posey tended her, and Wind Whistler gave Mimic an exasperated, loving scolding when she awoke. They all loved one another, you know. Over three thousand, five hundred years their spirits had worn together, learned each other's little oddities and secrets, and each of them fitted into comfortable little grooves in the souls of the others. It was a companionship like ... like what you and your friends may become, given several more centuries together. Only they were isolate from the rest of the world, so it may have been even closer.

Of course Galaxy and Wind Whistler thought of infiltration. Really, mine own dear friend, I some times think that thou dost imagine that thou invented magical precautions entire of thy own devise, yesterday! The first thing Wind Whistler did when she found them was slap on amulets that would bind anything which had entered them firmly to them, and Galaxy checked them to make sure that no additional spirits were riding them into the heart of our psychic fortress.

And Galaxy found something. There were, in fact, two additional spirits within Mimic now. But they did not seem like demonic possession. Rather like something else, which should have been impossible, but which Shady had already demonstrated was anything but impossible. When she informed Wind Whistler -- I later learned that Wind Whistler gave Mimic one of the most exasperated "I told you so" expressions ever seen on the face of that Pegasus.

And, given Wind Whistler's personality -- she was a very sarcastic Pony, like unto .... somepony else whom I do love and esteem most greatly ... what, Twilight? Did I mention you by name? And yes, I know that I share that trait. It is actually one I find endearing in you, too. Well, in any case, for Wind Whistler, that was saying something.

Mimic was not suffering from demonic possession. Her condition was something else entirely, one which Mimic had not experienced for centuries, for the very good reason that Mimic had not lain with a stallion for centuries.

Mimic was pregnant.

And so, unknowning, unaware, as yet physically nothing more than two microscopic clumps of fast-dividing cells, though the spirits connected to those souls were powerful ones, did myself and my Sister first enter Paradise Estate.

Author's Notes:

Music playing as I write part of this, Iron Maiden's Seventh Son of a Seventh Son album. Oddly or not so oddly enough, very good background music for dealing with the young Discord. If you think about the roles of Wind Whistler, Mimic and Celestia in the tale, parts of it fit almost terrifyingly well. Though there's no role there for poor little Luna ... then again, in retrospect she's the lucky one of the Two Sisters in this. And their former best friend. Discord's later life is not exactly a happy one.

The Ponies are in between Humans and their own Horse ancestors when it comes to ease of childbirth. They are primarily quadrupeds and hence have a wider pelvic structure: their mares do not suffer the contradictions between the engineering requirements of comfortable bipedal walking and passage of the baby that bedevils Human women. On the other hand, their craniums have expanded to meet the demands of housing sapient brains, and hence birth is less comfortable for a Pony mare than a mare of the species Equus caballus -- and real horses have more difficult births than do many mammals, for their foals are born more developed than is the case for many species. And Discord's hardly a standard-shaped foal.

Thus, Goldie Pie has a profession beyond "mad scientist." Too bad Shady had no midwife.

And it looks like there are two more foals coming.

This is very much a re-telling of part of Episode 54 of the Pony POV Series by Alex Warlorn, much more so than any of the earlier parts. I hope that I did the original justice.

Chapter 13: Rainbow's Boast and Fluttershy's Plan

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Rainbow's Boast

"So what's going on in there, already?" complained Rainbow Dash, hovering in the middle of the room with her forelegs crossed, indicating the closed door to Twilight's study with her nose. "There's been more than enough time for Princess Luna to tell Twilight whatever she meant to tell her about Discord!"

They had been waiting for about an hour now. There had been a brief early excitement as Rainbow darted off to fetch Scootaloo and Featherweight, but she had secured them swiftly enough and brought them to the library safe and sound. Discord, whatever his ultimate intentions, did not at present seem inclined to harm either of the two young Pegasi. Yet.

Scootaloo was of course glad to be able to spend time with her heroine, though she was a bit bummed to be spending this time locked up with her in a library At first, Rainbow had entertained her with a tale of some trouble Rainbow had gotten into as a filly in Cloudsdale: Rainbow had managed to make it sound like an amazing adventure. But now, Rainbow herself was getting bored -- and impatient.

"I'd s'pose they're talking about Discord," Applejack replied. "And how to deal with him. You know -- what they said they were going to talk about?"

Rainbow snorted, lowering her head onto her crossed forelegs, then coming down to make a graceful landing. "Well, I just wish they'd come to a decision," she said. "Then we could go out and try their plan -- it'd fail, of course, because we all underestimated Discord, so then we'd all be at his mercy, except me 'cause he knocked me out at the start of the fight, and then -- just as he was about to finish all of you off -- I'd come rocketing in and give him a Sonic Rainboom to the face -- KA-POW! -- and save the day!" Her mood gradually improved during her pre-counting of these future glories, until at the end she was beaming in happy anticipation of her intended daring deeds. "Oh, yeah!" she concluded, and high-hoofed the adoring Scootaloo.

"Does that little play come with musical accompaniment?" Applejack inquired drily.

"Ooh yes!" squeaked Pinkie Pie, entering the conversation. "This tune!" She pointed off in some indescribable direction.

The other Ponies tried to follow Pinkie's indication. Their visions blurred and they felt momentary headaches, so they quickly gave up the attempt.

"Have you ever noticed," asked Rarity a bit acidly, "just how many of your plans boil down to 'fly really fast and hit it in the face?'"

"Your point being?" replied Rainbow, nonchalantly inspecting one of her fore-hooves.

"Well, darling, isn't it a trifle crude?"

"Eh, some Ponies like unnecessary complexity," replied Rainbow. "All fancy with ribbons and bows on it. Me, I figure that if a simple plan works, why mess with perfection?"

"But it never works!" protested Rarity.

"Well, I wouldn't exactly say that," replied Rainbow.

"When has it ever worked?" demanded Rarity. "When? Ever?"

"What about when I fought that manticore?" pointed out Rainbow.

"What? You never hit him in the face! I hit him in the face!" insisted Rarity indignantly.

"And did it work?" asked Rainbow, inspecting the other hoof.

"No! All it did was anger the brute! I was lucky to escape with my life!"

"Now see, that's the difference between us," argued Rainbow Dash. "You just don't know how to do it right. If I'd hit the manticore in the face, it would have worked."

"What?!!" cried Rarity.

"Yep," continued Rainbow, grinning. "I'm just that much more awesome than you."

"Oooh!!!" cried Rarity in frustration. "You are insufferably arrogant, do you know that?"

"Course I do," Rainbow replied with a broad grin. "I've worked long and hard on my attitude."

***

Fluttershy's Plan

Fluttershy smiled as she watched her two best friends bickering. She could tell there was no real malice in their argument -- she could directly taste their emotions, and in any case she well knew their natures. They were arguing, of course, to take their minds off their very real fear of Discord. They thought he would do something terrible, and they would have to engage him in life-threatening combat.

Fluttershy knew better. She knew that Discord loved her, and that if she could only talk to him she could calm him down. She remembered Discord the way he had been when he had first broken out of his stone prison three years ago, and how he had been when he'd first been paroled, and the way he was now. One of the reasons why Princess Celestia trusted her with the great responsibility of being Discord's friend was that she could directly sense his emotions, too.

Between the time he'd first broken free and first been paroled something had changed Discord. Fluttershy wasn't sure exactly what, but Princess Celestia had privately told her that she had talked to Discord in between those two events, and Fluttershy had seen Celestia and Discord together since his parole. She could sense the bonds of old love between them. This told her that Celestia had once been very close to Discord, which must mean that he once must have been a very different person.

Fluttershy was certain Discord cared for her -- she'd known that he had even when first paroled, which is why she'd had the confidence to use his caring as reins by which to restrain him. They'd spent many happy hours together since then, sharing ideas, showing each other things, sometimes just chatting about nothing at all or companionably cuddling. On reflection, thought Fluttershy, I should have realized he liked me more than just as a friend, from that last part.

But how was I to know? I've only really had four really good friends in my life -- Rainbow, Rarity, Bulk and Discord. And Rainbow was and Bulk is my lover. And I guess Dissy wants to be my lover. I wonder if that's normal? Do most Ponies find that most of the Ponies who really like them also want to make love to them?

Fluttershy was less innocent in the ways of the world than she had been four and a half years ago, when she'd taken that first fateful walk through the woods to the Castle of the Two Royal Pony Sisters. But she was still fairly innocent, by the standards of most mares in their twenties. And she still found Ponies hard to understand, compared to small mammals and songbirds.

And Dissy's not even a Pony -- though Celestia told me he was raised by Ponies. I suppose that's why he likes me that way. She thought about the situation. Now that she was calming down -- strangely, at the same time that everypony else was tensing up -- she was finally able to ask herself the question which was crucial to the whole situation. Do I like Dissy that way?

The question was surprisingly difficult to answer. Because on the one hand, the answer was obvious. Yes. Of course I like him that way. She loved Discord's company, his keen intellect, his tremendous creativity, the gentleness and warmth he showed her. This was the side of Discord she'd seen ever since he'd realized he really valued her friendship.

And to Fluttershy, who had been forced to invent her own strange code of morality, with very little reference to normal Pony ways, strong mutual friendship accompanied by sexual attraction on the part of the other almost-automatically aroused her in return. The main reason why Fluttershy was not promiscuous was simply that she did not have many sapient friends, and of the ones she had, only three were attracted to her in such a fashion.

Fluttershy was generally aware that most Ponies would have considered her attitude somewhat scandalous. So she did not explicitly tell them about it. She was far too naive to realize the potential trouble into which this approach might get her.

It had been her great good fortune that the first Pony to ever love her in such a fashion, Rainbow Dash, loved her unselfishly and loyally, to such an intensity that nothing short of outright hatred on Fluttershy's part could have ever shaken her devotion. It was her next great good fortune that Bulk Biceps almost worshipped her. Both had similarly great hearts, too great to be much moved by merely jealous motivations.

It was not really very surprising that her luck would eventually run out, as it had with Discord. One may be a goddess, but then one attracts the notice of gods. And gods are proverbially jealous beings.

So, ironically, it was the Draconequus whose response to what he perceived as Fluttershy's faithlessness -- despite the fact that Fluttershy had promised him no fidelity -- in fact promised him nothing, since he had still even now made her no declaration of love -- whose reaction to Fluttershy's innocently sensual approach to Love and Friendship was closest to the Pony norm. In a backwards and confused sort of way, which was really the way that Discord dealt with life in general.

So she wondered what to do. Should she tell Discord she loved him? But what if he wanted her to give up Bulk, or (even worse) Rainbow? She was not currently the lover of Rainbow Dash, but she assumed they might be again in the future -- their love affair had been on and off before -- and she certainly would never give up Dashie's friendship, not even under threat of personal annihilation, for it had been the one good constant of her existence.

Bulkie was a newer resident in her affections, but in a few short months she had come to love him very dearly, and even were she inclined to do so she had too few really good friends to lose one of them. She suspected that if she rejected his sexual love at this point in their lives, especially under threat from Discord, that she would lose his friendship as well -- a loss which she would find very sorrowful.

And she knew from animal handling that it was a very bad idea to back down too readily before something big and dangerous, lest it learn that it could spook oneself. Discord, despite his vast intellect, was in many ways to her just an especially big and dangerous animal, when he got cranky. This was a comparison she judged unwise to make to his face. But then, to some extent she dealt with everypony with the skills she had learned from handling animals -- something which all her friends seemed to figure out when they had known her long enough.

She knew what she really wanted, of course. The obvious solution. It seemed obvious enough to her, anyway.

But sometimes the solutions which seemed obvious to her were ones nopony else thought reasonable.

Other Ponies were funny that way. And, she supposed, also Draconequii who thought like Ponies.

Fluttershy contemplated her obvious solution and hoped that the others would accept it.

Chapter 14: A Bad Little Filly

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Luna's Tale

Mine was, perhaps, a difficult childhood.

No, my dearest friend, I do not say 'ours', for while my Sister has of times known pain and suffering, in any but the darkest times she has glided smoothly through life, loving all and beloved by all. You may have noticed this about her? Well, it was as true of her as a filly as it was of a mare full-grown.

What is true of us today was true of us as foals. Celly was a charming little child, winning the love of everypony with her cute little face and pink mane and gentle laughter. She even cried cutely for milk when she was hungry. Within a week all seemed to have forgotten her uncanny origins, all were enchanted by the most beautiful baby anypony had ever seen or heard.

I ... was perhaps less scary than had been Baby Dissy. I bawled loudly when I wanted food or was dirty or just cranky. I woke other Ponies up and spit and messed and generally made a nuisance of myself. I bit my mother Mimic when I was cross. Oh, exactly where thou wouldst expect me to have done so -- and yes, I was an ungrateful little foal. A little monster. Though if thou dost call me "Nightmare Lulu" I may bite thee now!

I will wait while thou regainest thy composure. Dost thou know that thou art really quite adorable even when overcome with a fit of the giggles? I shall have a stained glass window commissioned of thee like this -- ah, I see thou hast learnt the noble art of waging war with cushions! Another time, we might have quite the epic combat -- but now I must return to my tale.

My mother loved me well enough. My Sister adored me, though we quarreled often. It has perhaps been a theme of all our lives, that we love one another and yet quarrel. 'Tis engraved in the cosmic constants of our natures. Thou mightest see the signs of it in the spectra of some stars. At least in this youth it went no further than fighting over toys and clothing. Some of those stars went nova.

The others -- well, I was a foal, I do not think it would have been possible for them to have actually disliked a little foal. But they mostly did not like me much.

I can only suppose that I was not pleased by the world I had found. I had hoped for the true Paradise, the one that Pinkie strives to restore. We had wanted to enter it and this time steer it from disaster. I had wanted to atone for my part in destroying it the first time round. A hidden steading in the midst of a Dark Age had not been for what we had hoped. Celly, I think, just took it better, as she takes most things better.

No, I did not know this clearly. I had not yet Awoken, all I had were strange and troubling dreams, dreams of being a great ebon monster destroying the world, of a little pink pony hurling defiance at me from amidst the ruins, of fighting her, of slaying -- Twilight, dear one, I do not like to dwell upon this. Before I mastered dreams, I often had nightmares of my Cosmic Self. I did -- things I would now never do, not now that I have been Pony -- things I never want to do again. Never.

Not all the dreams were bad, though. Sometimes I galloped across the galaxies, could feel the lines of superstring drawing space and time together, the slow pulse of life as the central black holes drew in cosmic dust, swirled it around their event horizons and sprayed out light, the magnetic bubbles around the galaxies like the hoods of medusae swimming in the seas -- Didst thou know that the galaxies are alive? They never suspected this in the Age of Wonders, but 'tis true. The Universe is rich and strange, dear one, rich and strange beyond all imagining ...

I didn't understand those dreams either, but at least I didn't wake up screaming from them.

Even my mother liked Celly more than myself, I believe. Even I liked Celly more than myself, I am certain. That's why I could never hate her, though it perhaps made me more vicious when I fought over our toys. I am not a very nice Pony, dearest friend, though I am flattered when thou thinkest I am. All foals are little savages in their innocent young hearts, I am more civilized now, but that merely means that I have become better at cloaking my darkness.

When I was in my blackest moods, I would throw tantrums. Epic tantrums. I would cry and scream and throw things around and find some narrow hidden place with my back and flanks guarded and I would run in there and yell and bite at everypony who tried to get me out. They were adults, warriors with millennia of experience. I was a tiny little filly. But I had one huge advantage. They didn't want to hurt me, they didn't want to get bitten by me, and I was absolutely and completely violent and unreasonable. I honestly cannot tell if I were but a very difficult child or close to insane. They were uncertain as well, and the more cautious because of my uncanny origins.

When I was like this, there was only one being who could reach me. No, not my Sister -- she was usually the one who had triggered my explosion, though in truth it was rarely her fault in any just sense of the word. Nor even my mother Mimic, though I would hurt her somewhat less than I would the other Ponies.

Dissy.

He was only a year older than me, still a foal himself. He should not have risked my rages. He should have been frightened of me -- he was timid enough of so many other things. That actually did not change when he Awoke -- Discord is timid, even today, hast thou never noticed this? He fears most things as strong or stronger than himself -- it's just that, since he Awoke, there are very few things on this Earth anywhere near his own level of power.

But he was never afraid of me. Not until -- until we all changed. For some reason that I have never fully grasped, he saw my Sister and I as his friends almost from the moment I was born. That did not change as much as thou might think after he awoke, either. He has slain, harmed and warped our friends, our lovers, whole civilizations for which we cared, he has caused us great grief and done great evil in the millennium of his rule, but he has never seriously tried to slay either one of us.

Nor do I actually think he will try to slay thee, Twilight Sparkle, for I have seen the signs of his friendship for thee. Some others perhaps he likes -- Fluttershy of certain, possibly Pinkie Pie, in part because of whom she is the descendant. He will play with such, cause you all great emotional pain, but never directly do any of you what he would consider serious harm. It has always been his nature to want friends, though after he Awoke he could never find any -- until now. My Sister hopes he is finally changing. I think -- but I shall get to that in due course.

What was Dissy like, in his first years of life in this incarnation?

He was the most incredibly good, kind, and loving friend and play-mate I ever knew. He was my best friend in all the world. He was the one whose face I hoped to see every morning, the one I yearned to play with every day, the one to whom I always whispered good night. Perhaps I loved my mother and my Sister more, but I took them for granted: I never took Dissy for granted, he was the most exciting and enjoyable thing in my life. He was so unpredictable, save in one respect -- he never did evil nor harm to myself, to my sister, or to any living creature counted a friend to Ponies. He was a very good being.

Dost this surprise thee? Didst thou expect me to report him monstrous? But he was not monstrous then, he was instead the exemplar of everything good in Ponykind, save for the one detail that he was not actually a Pony, but something Ponykind had never seen before, save in dark and debatable legends from before the dawn of our known history.

I do not know why this was so. The most logical assumption is that this was a mask his Cosmic Self had created, formed so that we would accept him, love him, nurture him beneath our bellies, safe at our teats until the time would come for him to rip and tear us to shreds.

Dissy was the chick of a cosmic cuckoo; Paradise Estate the nest in which Discord had lain him, so that we might nourish him until he burst forth to the ruination of a world.

Dissy was meant to be no more than a larval stage for Discord.

Was that all he was? Just a mask, a falsity meant to convince us of his fundamental virtue, to paralyze us in contemplation of his beauty until Discord was ready to strike?

Perhaps. But yet ...a mask worn too long can change the conformation of the face beneath. That is ever the flaw of Infiltration, that one can become what one pretends to be. And I think that, before the end, much of Dissy became real.

Not enough, alas. Not enough to change the outcome.

***

Discord

He sat on the tell and watched the Sun slowly setting over the mountains west of Dream Valley.

Discord had a really good memory, when he wanted to -- almost as perfectly eidetic as that of the Sisters. The layout of Paradise Estate and the contours of Dream Valley were engraved deeply into his brain. He referenced them every time he created their simulacrum in his private world. The real place had changed more, over two and a half millennia, but not as much as one might have expected. Inherently sound location? Stray bits of the Moochick's old spells? Discord wasn't sure, and didn't care all that much about the reasons.

Oh, the ruins of the houses had all fallen in on themselves, rotted, the debris been covered by centuries of natural detritus until all that was left was the oddly-regular grassy knoll. But Discord knew the dimensions and the outline, knew where the buildings and rooms had all been in relation to one another. It was easy to reconstruct it all from memory.

He could have reconstructed it in reality, though he wasn't sure he could have redone the intricate threading of The Moochick's spells. Theoretically, of course, Discord was of an order of Being even farther beyond the High Eldren than the High Eldren had been beyond the little Ponies they had left to be the masters of this planet, but in this form he lacked full and convenient access to his Cosmic knowledge and power. And The Moochick had been an exceptional being, even by the standards of his race.

But such an act seemed pointless. Why rebuild an ancient magical steading, especially without all its old magic? And for whom? There were only two other beings, aside from himself, incarnate on this world who would have remembered the place fondly, and Discord doubted that they would have appreciated his action. Celestia had controlled this territory for fifteen hundred years, after all, and had clearly made no effort to rebuild.

He suspected it was one of those Pony things, like being unhappy at the reanimation of one's beloved dead as mindless zombies, that he'd never completely understand. I've never gotten any thanks for that, Discord thought. Not even when I make them the non-rotting, non-flesh-eating kind!

He supposed that in a way it would be similar. Paradise Estate would be nothing without the Ponies who had once given it life, just some play-set like the one he had in his private world. Who was left to enjoy that Paradise? It would be an alien place to the Ponies of modern Equestria, shaped as it was by the combined architecture and customs of the Eldren, the Humans, and the Ponies of millennia past. Nopony today would actually want to live in such a place.

Briefly, Discord contemplated restoring it and opening it as an exhibit, He materialized a ghostly Paradise Estate over the tell, a tour guide's uniform around himself, and conducted a tour group composed of his energy forms through the place. "... and here's where I tossed one at Celly and she ducked and it hit Wind Whistler," he said. "No, that doesn't mean you should all have a water balloon fight now! Ah, fudge it!" He swept away his phantoms, leaving only himself and the silent tell.

"Yeah," he said to the hill. "That probably wouldn't be a good idea. Celly'd get mad at me if I dispelled a real tour group."

He smiled briefly as he thought of one group of Ponies who probably would have appreciated Paradise Estate. He imagined Twilight fainting with scholarly ecstasy over the place, Rarity running around with a sketchpad copying pattern designs, Pinkie Pie holding a "GRAND OPENING NEW PARADISE ESTATE" party, Rainbow Dash spellbound by some of the tales of the things the Paradise Estate Ponies had done way back in the Reclamation, Applejack silent in awe at the history of the place, maybe getting up the courage to ask about the varieties of apples they'd had back then ...

... and Fluttershy ...

It hurt too much to think about. She would have walked through Posey's old gardens, through the surrounding hills, exclaiming in delight at the strange animals and plants of the deep Everfree. He could have cloaked her in part of his own protection, so that nothing would dare harm her, even if anything could harm her now that she had mastered the Stare, was starting to grasp the power that even partial Shifting provided her. Fluttershy ... Gaia ... the Cosmic Concept of Kindness ... a young goddess, growing more into her own might and majesty with every passing day, and none of them could see it!

Except maybe Rainbow Dash. Rainbow Dash appreciated Fluttershy, had kept her safe and happy when Fluttershy was small and weak and uncertain. Rainbow's protection of Fluttershy was at least half of the reason why Discord didn't hate her today, even though he knew Rainbow hated him. The rest of the reason was that Rainbow was just so damned funny to watch -- she was so sure of herself and her own heroism, so willing to fling herself against any foe. She was so much like a really goofy and innocent version of Firefly.

Damn, I miss Firefly -- I miss them all. Surprise, Posey, Twilight the First, the whole herd of them. Sometimes, I even miss the ones I didn't like that much, I should have played the game differently. I'm not sure how, I just should have played it so that they could all still be here to keep me company. Even as my enemies. Better than them just not being around any more. But I couldn't let them keep the Rainbow, and without the Rainbow -- less than a century, and they were all gone.

Ah well, look on the bright side. At least I can play with Rainbow Dash for several more decades. And the rest of them about as long. Unless they Ascend, in which case they'll be around a nice long time. He grinned deliciously at the prospect of all the merry japes he could play on them over the centuries to come.

Discord of course knew that Rainbow and Fluttershy had been lovers. It didn't bother him. A goddess should have her handmaidens, and that sort of relationship between goddess and handmaiden was only to be expected. Though Rainbow Dash was more like Fluttershy's champion, he supposed. Ah well, analogies are never perfect, which is why logic mostly sucks. His aesthetic concept of Pony goddesses actually owed more to Age of Wonders pulp fantasy than it did to any of the Pony religions which had really existed before his First Advent, or to the two actual Pony goddesses he'd grown up with as his best friends.

He would not have minded making Fluttershy the mistress of this place. Not minded at all.

But that's in the worldlines I can't visit now, isn't it? Even if I'm good -- mostly -- Fluttershy and I can never have anything like that together. She clearly loves Ponies. And I'm not a Pony. Just a mock-Pony, something that Ponies took in and raised as a Pony and now I think like them, half the time, but that doesn't mean they can really accept me -- they know I'm the Monster.

Not much of a Monster any more, really. I should be destroying and devastating -- and I don't really want to. It's not fun any more. What Wind Whistler told me was just confirmation, really. I could have destroyed Ponyville the instant I saw her in bed with him, and I didn't. I got mad, but I didn't. I'm so obviously going soft.

I don't really like hurting Ponies any more. What's wrong with me? What am I becoming?

There was no answer from the silent tell. Only the wind whispering through the grasses. And it was surely only in his imagination that they were calling his name.

Dissy, the winds whispered. Dissy.

***

Luna's Tale

What made me an even more difficult foal was my nocturnal nature.

Normally, as a foal grows toward fillyhood, her sleeping schedule will regularize, approaching that of the other Ponies surrounding her. Since Ponies are naturally diurnal creatures, that means that she will spend at least some of the night sleeping. Even if too many Ponies spend too much of the beautiful, brilliant night slug-a-bed, when they could be awake to delight in its wonder and glory and ......

... Ahem. I digress.

In this, as in so many other ways, I was different from other Ponies. I was then, and I am now, most comfortable sleeping in the mid-day, and remaining awake all night. This of course vexed my mother Mimic and the other Ponies, for it meant that I wanted to run about and play when everypony else lay abed and would doze in the midst of the day when they wished to be about their business. Mimic would put me back to bed when she caught me, so I learned to play quietly around midnight, making no sound so that nopony would be bothered by me.

I would creep through the silent halls of the Estate, to our play-room or the library or some other place that attracted my mercurial notice. Sometimes I would sneak out and play alone in the quiet gardens, which was safe enough as long as I stayed within the Veil that lay around us all. I had excellent night vision, and even in absolute dark might see a little by heat differentials or the inherent florescence of various substances. My other means of seeing took years to develop -- I could not yet send radio wave pulses, or bundles of gravitons, or anything more exotic. But I could see better in the dark than any Pony yet born, and as well as my later Children of the Night, the Nocturnae.

When I did this, I often played alone. Sometimes Dissy would wake just to be with me, and we would gallop and flutter and coil in company through the night forest. We were none too careful of the Veil, and our mothers would have been horrified had they known what we were up to, two strange little foals playing strange games in the midst of the monster-haunted forests. But the monsters would come to Dissy only to do him obeisance, and likewise the normal night-creatures to me. No normal Pony brigands would travel by night in such unchancy woods as these, so even had we not been what we were, we were at small risk of harm.

Celly didst tell thee about the night creatures? Yes, one of the earliest manifestations of my true nature was the creatures of the night, those who live in a world of pressure and sound and gravity, but little of my Sister's light, were inherently drawn to me. When this first began to happen, it frightened me, and when the adults noticed me, it frightened them as well. Which led to ... an unhappy moment of my foalhood.

***

Twilight Sparkle

Twilight was fairly sure she knew what was coming: she'd heard this before, when Celestia had told the tale. Desires warred within her: she wanted to spare Luna the retelling of this part, but she also wanted to know how Luna had seen it. And in any case, perhaps it would do Luna good to tell it to her? The curiosity of the scholar won out over the compassion of the friend, subverted by that last tnought, and Twilight simply listened.

Luna paused. She wrinkled her muzzle, looked at the ground for a moment, clearly gathering her energy for an unpleasant revelation.

"Regarding what I am now about to tell thee," Luna said, "thou must keep firmly in mind that Wind Whistler was a very good and wise Pony. She was brave, loyal, and highly rational. She cared deeply for the other Ponies at Paradise Estate, and she came to care deeply for all three of us little cuckoos. She is to this very day a model to me for mine own behavior -- I cannot say that I have always lived up to her example, but I have tried. I have not always succeeded -- this thou dost know all too well. But I have tried." Her jaw was set, her eyes blazed with determination.

"But even Wind Whistler was not perfect."

Luna closed her eyes, sighed as if in pain. Then she opened them and continued.

"Understand," said Luna, "she was groping toward comprehension of three uncanny foals with uncanny powers, two of whom had been born as twins. Dissy was perhaps the strangest, but he was whimsical and friendly rather than hostile, despite his odd appearance. He was repelled by the Rainbow, and there had been the deaths of the warlocks who had sought his mother. The Ponies of the Estate judged him of mixed nature, neither purely good nor purely evil.

"My Sister was obviously pure good.. That was more than their taking things only on their faces -- thou hast seen this thyself. She is a supremely good creature; the few times in her life she's actually tried to be bad, she's been really bad at it."

She made a wry grin, but it seemed to Twilight less at herself than at some ancient memory.

"I am better at being bad," Luna claimed. "Not very good at it, but better than Celestia. And when I was young I could be very naughty indeed. Perhaps not as dangerous as I later became, but very, very naughty."

The smile faded. Luna's expression flattened. She spoke the next part slowly, and as if it pained her.

"So when my power began to gather around me, when the creatures of the night, insects, moths, bats and owls gathered around me, what conclusion could Wind Whistler draw than that I was a creature of the night as well? Which was true. And beyond this, that I was, deep down, truly evil." Luna's head hung low. "Which I think I am not. I try to be a good Pony. But, as well thou knoweth, I am not really a Pony at all. And perhaps I do not always succeed ... at being ... good." The last came out as almost a whisper.

Twilight streteched her neck forward and rubbed her cheek against Luna's. "I think you're good," Twilight said.

Luna pressed her cheek against Twilight's in return. "I wish thou hadst been there," she said. "Back then -- two and a half millennia ago -- with us at Paradise Estate. Things might have turned out ... differently. So much sorrow might have been averted. Thou ... thou keepeth me from ..." She suddenly became conscious of what she was saying, pulled her head back. "I ramble. Forgive me."

Twilight smiled gently at her.

Luna regained her composure. "Well, in any case, Wind Whistler voiced the suspicions that all must have felt. That I was a thing of darkness, a thing of evil, a thing that needed to be destroyed." At Twilight's look of horror, Luna explained. "Thou must understand, they were all ancient warriors, and they knew just how bad things could get. They had seen three cataclysms first-hand, seen Ponykind near wiped out on each occasion. They had lost so many beloved, seen so many Ponies suffer and die. They wanted to avoid a fourth winnowing of their ... of our species. They meant well, dear friend. Thou must grasp this. Wind Whistler always meant well." Luna said this with such intensity that Twilight wondered who Luna meant to convince, for Twilight herself had voiced no doubts on this issue.

"They did naught to harm me," Luna assured her. "They but did converse, Wind Whistler and Twilight and Galaxy, mostly, with the others joining in at points -- but of course Mimic and Shady were not in the chamber. Twas not a formal meeting, just some old mages and warriors discussing a potential threat to their steading. And they did not know, for despite their fears they still saw us as harmless children, at least for now ... they did not know that we were eavesdropping, listening, that we could hear every word they said. That I could hear every word they said."

A strong emotion rippled through her, eyes downcast, ears drooping, muzzle wrinkling. Her pain was obviously undimmed despite the fact that more than twenty-five hundred winters had come and gone, whole realms risen and fallen since the formation of that memory. Then she looked right at Twilight Sparkle.

"I had known," Luna said slowly, "that I was a bad little filly. Difficult for my mother and everypony else to handle. But I had not known that they thought me a monster. A thing that they might have to destroy, as if I were a creature from outside raiding the steading. My mother had always loved me, no matter how much I tried her. I had not known that I might become a foe -- a threat to all I loved." She sighed. "And of course Wind Whistler was right. Though over fifteen hundred years early. No matter how hard I try to be good, there is a darkness within me, a madness, that makes of me sometimes a monster. It can be controlled for a time, appeased and lulled by love and friendship, but it hates and hungers to destroy what it hates.

"Thou hast seen me in my madness," she said. "Yes, that was in part the Night Shadow, but who invited the Night Shadow in to ride my soul? Who opened herself to its malign mastery, knowing full well that something very like it had claimed my poor dear friend Crimson Quartz, turned him into the mad Imperator Sombros? What was I thinking, Twilight? What could I have been thinking but that the world had failed me and that I would punish it for its imperfections, inflict my own evil upon it with the excuse of the Night Shadow, the same excuse as a drunken sot who roars and raves and kicks his friends and blames it on the liquor? I am supposed to be supernally clever and cunning, why did I fall into a trap so plain, unless I wanted to fall, wanted to hurt and destroy, and wanted to use the Shadow as excuse? Dost thou not know that half the peril this land lies in today is because I ruined my Sister's wise plans for it, plans that would by now have brought us back to and beyond the power of the Age of Wonders?

"Wind Whistler was right," she said bluntly, "and that is half of what Celestia did not tell thee, because she refuses to believe it herself, she will not admit what a monster I am in truth. And because she would not lower me in your esteem. She is happy that we have become friends, she thinks that it will keep me sane, turn me from stepping once more on the path of cruelty and betrayal. She thinks thou canst check my own worst nature.

"Yes," Luna said, as Twilight's eyes widened in realization. "She sees thee as my own restraint. As Fluttershy is to Discord, so art thou to mine own self. Is that not a merry jest, Twilight Sparkle? Thou holdest the leash of thy very own monster!" She laughed, harshly, and in her eyes was not joy, but desperation.

Twilight made to move toward her again, but Luna stepped back.

"Do not worry," Luna said. "The monster is not in the mood to rave and destroy today. Thou and the Realm are both safe from me!"

Twilight looked at her reproachfully.

"Thou thinkest thou can comfort me," Luna said. "But I have not told to thee the worst yet. I have only told thee what thou didst know full well, but misliked to speak aloud. Thou hast a mind of brilliance, Twilight Sparkle, and I am not dull either, and I know that thou hast long since grasped that my transformation into Nightmare was mine own fault .

"But I have other sins on my soul. Think, after thou hearest their nature, whether this monster is one thou still wishes to caress in love -- or to spurn in outrage at its vileness. Thou art surpassing good, Twilight Sparkle, very much like my Sister -- and good should not lower itself to consort with evil."

"You are not evil," Twilight said, looking directly into Luna's eyes. "You think you are, but. I know you. You're good. I can tell ... you show it in everything you do ... you're a good Pony."

"Reserve thy judgement," replied Luna rather coldly, until thou hast heard the full tale. " Her tone softened and warmed. "Thy faith in me does touch me, dear friend. But I have dark truths here to reveal."

Twilight nodded solemnly.

Luna resumed telling her tale.

Luna's Tale

So I decided, in my brilliance, that if ... Wind Whistler thought me a monster, then I should in truth be a monster, and go where monsters dwelt, outside the Veil. And I ran. I did not bother to gather supplies, any of the many things that a mare full-grown, let alone a small filly, would have needed to venture into that wilderness. I simply ran. I did not want to inflict my monstrousness on my herd any more, so I ran.

Danger? Well, I was a bit larger and stronger than I was when thou didst first free me of the Nightmare. I had the toughness inherent in all Alicorns -- as thou hast discovered, we are hardy and difficult to slay. I was not exhausted by fighting both six mad heroines and a Nightshadow, and I had not been blasted by the Rainbow. I had some unicorn magic with which to defend myself, and a limited flight-field, and the strength of an Earth Pony. I was a strong swimmer, and when I paid attention the flows of Nature were plain to me. In short I had the strengths of all five mortal Pony Kinds, and none of their weaknesses. So I was not helpless.

On the other hoof, I was only five years old. And not as crafty as I believed. And while I could have fought off any normal predator, there were things between the towns in that ancient time which one will find today only in the deeps of the most cursed wilderness. Things that could have taken a small filly, even an Alicorn filly, with great ease -- if that filly were not very careful.

I was not being very careful. I galloped out of Paradise Estate bawling at the top of my lungs, and through the woods for miles in like wise, before I finally calmed down enough to slow my gait to a trot more suitable for travel across the countryside, and stopped crying aloud. No, I did not grasp that my noise could draw every predator within earshot. Perhaps I was instead frightening them off. I do not know, for I was not yet thinking in any terms so rational.

Yes, Twilight. I, the future High Lady of War for a powerful Realm, had completely and totally panicked and was running through the forest in a blind funk. In my defense, I was but five, and had not yet enjoyed any formal military training. Nopony had ever shown me how to rout in confusion; I was making it up as I went along. I think I routed quite well for somepony so green!

I could have broken a leg. Or my neck. I would have survived all those things, and healed with a speed that would have astonished me -- at that time I had never been wounded -- but it would have been very painful, and would have severely reduced my ability to fend off predators. Understand, I was behaving so foolishly absent any awareness of Alicorn regeneration or the tenacity of life in us.

I was, in short, acting like an idiot. I really deserved to get injured. Perhaps the memory of the pain would have done me good later on, when I made my really serious errors.

Perhaps not. I am a very simple Concept, and even my Avatar changes only with very great difficulty.

After a time I came to some of my senses. Not yet enough to see what a silly thing I did, but enough to see that I would soon be found by the Paradise Estate Ponies if I went on in this fashion. As I have said, they included some expert trackers, and I had been making absolutely no effort to avoid leaving a trail, crashing through the underbrush. It was bad enough that they had multiple ways of scrying my location, but I was making it easy for them.

I became crafty. I gathered the night around me as a cloak against scrying. I dared not take to the skies for any great distance, for the Paradise Ponies could easily find my direction and as of yet I was but a slow and weak flier, but I fluttered across ravines and hopped from pond to pond in marshes, swam along rivers, avoided leaving hoofprints.

Time passed, and I knew they must be searching for me. And the day was dawning, and I started to feel weary, less from physical exhaustion and more from the pain in my soul. I am alone now, I told myself. I have to be alone. Nopony loves me. They all think me a monster.

So I went to ground. I went into the darkest and most tangled part of the woods, and made myself a nest of half-dead brush above me and on all sides, in an area almost covered by canopy. And there were vines on the bushes and trees, and insects and reptiles and small mammals crawling and darting about -- a wealth of life around me that I drew into and around me, confusing my own strong lifescent. Here, I could rest unobserved.

I dozed away the day, often stirring to troubled dreams -- I as yet had not the power of controlling them -- and at points I felt as if somepony were watching me, though I came awake from time to time and could never sense anypony close enough to perceive me. Still I felt as if there was a presence around me -- but not an unfriendly one, rather something watching over me and keeping me from harm. By the afternoon I fell asleep again and this time slept deeply, not awaking until the Sun had set, and the cool delightful gloaming descended.

I emerged from my nest into the deep dark woods. The night held no terrors for me, but I felt keenly the bite of loneliness. This was the first time I had ever spent a whole night away from home, a whole night alone, and I missed my mother, missed Celly and Dissy, the sensation of the Ponies of Paradise Estate all around me. I was part of a herd, and I thought myself outcast, and unjustly at that.

I am not a monster, I thought. I would not have harmed them. They should not have banished me. But there was nothing I could do about it. For -- or so I thought -- I had been rejected, I was outcast, and though I had been avoiding pursuit, I realized that there would be no pursuit, for nopony wanted me. Or if there was pursuit, it would be only to destroy a monster. The hooves and horns and wings of my former friends -- my former family -- would be raised against me. They would be my enemies

Then I truly felt all alone in the world, and I began bawling in utter dejection. I was only a very little filly, remember -- not much more than a foal -- and to be hated by all those who had once loved me seemed a very cruel fate, too much to be borne. I was making enough noise to be heard for miles, but it did not matter, even given my conclusion that the Ponies of Paradise Estate wanted to kill me. Death was not yet real to me, but loneliness was, and I think that I wanted to see those dear to me one last time, even if it would be the last time in this life.

And the watchful presence I had sensed during the day grew very immanent, and shadows gathered that not even my night-eyes could pierce, and there was a spray of some sort of radiance which I could not yet name. And from out of those unnatural shadows came a glowing red-eyed face, somewhat equine but greatly distorted and displaying fangs and waggling its tongue at me and crying aloud.

"Booga-booga!" it said, and I shrieked and jumped back, and then the next moment was incredibly relieved and a little angry and very happy all at the same time.

"Dissy!" I scolded him. "You scared me!"

"Hee-hee, got you real good!" he laughed.

"Why are you here?" I asked him angrily, though in truth I was very glad of his presence.

"Looking out for you, Lulu-lollipop," Dissy told me, briefly making his head seem like a giant lollipop, then returning it to normal. "It's not safe for a little filly out here in the wild. You need a big colt to protect you!" He assumed a heroic pose in the complete pre-Cataclysmic Amareican infantry gear he was suddenly wearing, presenting arms with his laser-sighted automatic rifle.

"I need no protection!" I protested. I had got the phrase from an adventure book and meant to declaim it dramatically, with the air of a noble heroine well able to take care of herself, but the effect was spoiled halfway through by my giggle. He had decided to fire the automatic rifle into the air, but it was shooting out iridescent ballons which drifted slowly skyward.

He dispelled his costume. "Course not, Lulu, you're a big filly," he laughed.

"Yeah!" I said, in a voice that meant to be fierce but doubtless failed, because at that moment Dissy grinned and looked silly and it was impossible for me not to laugh at him.

"But there's monsters in the woods," he continued. "And I can watch your tail!"

I shook my tail, throwing off the gold pocket-watch that had somehow become attached to that portion of my anatomy. Dissy then and Discord now has a very childish sense of humor. Of course, we were both children back then, so it was more excusable, and I tolerated it. Well, in truth, I loved it.

"I've gotta keep moving," I told my escort, with a tone of determination.

"Where're you going?" Dissy asked me, pulling out a map, which was not a map of anyplace I recognized as part of North Amareica.

"On a quest," I explained. "I have to prove I am not a nasty Monster."

"Oh," said Dissy. He smiled at me. "You're not nasty. You're nice. Like chocolate cake." He produced some from somewhere -- he was much like Pinkie Pie back then in his fondness for the conjuration of food, and like her in that he did so mainly to help others. I ate the cake eagerly, barely remembering to share some of it with him -- I had forgotten to bring food from Paradise Estate, so I was very hungry, and back then I was not the most polite little filly. He then called up two glasses of chocolate milk and we washed down the cake together.

Afterward I felt somewhat better -- I really like chocolate cake -- and considered the question of exactly where I was going. When I had left Paradise Estate, I had actually no particular destination in mind other than "away."

A name suggested itself. It was a name of glamor and glory, one of the names that was spoken by the adults when they talked about getting help or lore from abroad. It was a place that I knew to be friendly to Paradise Estate, and while it was many days' journey by hoof to the north, it was closer and friendlier than any of the three obvious alternatives on this continent.

"The Crystal Empire," I said. "Going to the Crystal City. They know everything at the Library. I'm going there."

It seemed very simple to me. I knew the way in general -- all one did was go north until one reached the borders, then 'all roads lead to the City,' as I'd heard it said. I had all the directness normal to a small filly, and the power to actually accomplish my intent.

It was still stupid and irresponsible. However, I was a small filly. And Dissy was only a year older than me, and he was ... Dissy. Sweet, but he remained in many ways a fluffbrain even as he grew older.

I still appreciate what he did for me. He missed his mother as much as I did mine; maybe more, as Dissy was closer to Shady than I was to Mimic. Yes, it was for him an adventure as much as it was for me, but the real reason he was here was for me.

"Okay, Lulu," he said. "I'm coming with you."

"You don't have to," I pointed out, though in truth I was very glad he had said that. "I'm a big filly. I can look out for myself ..."

"You're a big filly," he agreed, "but you're like my little sister. I have to look out for you." And then, as I pouted in offense at the idea that anypony had to look out for me, he said "Besides, it'll be fun. On the road with the coolest filly in the world ... it'll be like an adventure book!"

"Thanks," said the coolest filly in the world. "You're the bestest Big Brother." I hugged him, and he coiled about me, and I was warm and safe surrounded by his love.

Even at that age, we were multilingual, and frequently jumbled together the main languages we knew into our own strange pidgin. He'd said 'little sister' in the familial sense of Old Amareican. I'd said "Big Brother" in the romantic sense of Old Ponylandish. He was claiming me as kin; I was claiming him as a potential colt-friend.

I was far too young to realize the implications of what I had said. And so was he.

The portent remained.

***

Discord

He felt the resonance through Twilight's wards. Those wards were good, though not to be compared with Goldie Pie's, which had been laid down over decades with the power of the Earth-current focused by the antediluvian machinery of the Hyperboreans backing them. Twilight was the Avatar of Magic, who was a young Concept, and she was very newly an Alicorn, but she had a lot of promise. Discord respected her, to the extent that he respected anypony, which was admittedly minimal. And there was a fuzz that tasted of Twilight's lifescent between him and the resonance.

Luna was thinking of him. Part of Discord's own Talent was to directly sense magical resonance, and she and her Sister were Concepts even more ancient and normally more powerful than his own -- he had gained an unusual advantage over the Sisters by swallowing Destruction, but he did not discount their aeons-old skills. Something that direct could not be hidden from him, though he could not make out just what she was thinking.

He could tell, however, that she was thinking of him fondly, which was suprising.

Twilight must have called for help, Discord thought. And Luna came at the canter to help her new love. Or old love, more's the point. He remembered Magic's old Avatar, Dusk Skyshine, quite clearly. Dusk and Dash had been the enemies of Discentaur, which was something he'd appreciated. He'd had a lot of fun playing with them, and though the play had led in the end to Discord's discarnation, it was all in the game. He'd discarnated Magic first, much to the annoyance of Moondreamer, the Pony that Luna was being at the time. Or more than annoyance, knowing her. It had looked more like "overwhelming grief" from the outside.

Luna never changes. Always so intense about everything. Takes it all so seriously. Doesn't she know it's all a great big fun game? Only we Concepts are really real, and it's very hard for us to die. Neither of the Sisters really get that, which is odd because they're among the oldest Concepts of all. And they get so many other things, that's why I love them.

The mortal races of the Universe, even the very long-lived ones, are just ghosts and shadows compared to Us. They're born, as individuals and species. They live a bit. Then they die. And we go on, eternally. They're not really real. They're mayflies.

We're so real that we warp what the mayflies call reality -- if two of our Avatars from different worldlines meet, the worldlines begin to synchronize. The Sisters know that -- so why do they persist in really caring about the mayfly lives? They're all going to die anyway.

Still ...

In this place, it was hard for him to remember that. He thought of Celly and Lulu, yes, but also of Shady, and she was one of those mayflies. And Posey and Surprise and Firefly -- they were forming Concepts, yet he had loved and valued their mortal selves, long before he had known that they were connected to something greater. He loved Fluttershy, and liked Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash, and they didn't know of What they were part, did they?

It could all be so confusing at times, being Incarnate like this. He kept forgetting that the Ponies weren't really real. He even sometimes forgot that he wasn't a Pony. It was far too easy to like them. To want to be one.

Far too easy.

Author's Notes:

This is all a re-telling, from Luna's POV, of what Celestia has already told Twilight Sparkle from Celestia's own POV in Alex Warlorn's Pony POV Series: Season Four Generation Transitions & Origins, Chapter 9 - Episode 54: "Origins Celestia - Part 4", which I assume to have happened mostly the way Alex told it with some discrepancies owing to the differences between the main Pony POV worldline and the Shadow Wars timeline. In Shadow Wars terms, the Trio were born around 1020 years Before The Harmony (Dissy a year before Celly and Lulu), Celestia revealed this information to Twilight Sparkle sometime around YOH 1502, and of course Luna is having this conversation with Twiight in November YOH 1504.

Yes, Luna is around 2524 years old in this incarnation (her Cosmic Self is almost as old as the Universe itself). She carries her age remarkably well. Twilight Sparkle is around 21 years old in this incarnation. She'd be old enough to vote in the America of my birth, if the America of my birth had accorded civil rights to sapient technicolor equoids. It's a May-December kind of thing, and would be Mayfly-December if Alicorns weren't immortal.

There are far fewer discrepancies between the two tales than there would be if two "normal" immortal Ponies were relating the same events. This is because Celestia and Luna both have eidetic memories. Some of the discrepancies which exist are because Celestia and Luna attached different degrees of importance to different events, interpreted them differently, or wanted to shield Twilight from different things. For instance, Luna really worshiped Wind Whistler as her personal heroine, which is why Windy's false suspicions cut her so deeply; Celestia had a more balanced appreciation of her character.

Most importantly, Celestia deliberately avoided telling Twilight the central revelations of the entire tale, because she did not want to prejudice Twilight against her Sister. Perhaps wisely: the Twilight Sparkle of two years ago was a more rigid thinker than the Twilight Sparkle of YOH 1504. Much more than Luna, Celestia is a very good judge of character. Though, notably, Celestia and Luna have both loved three of the very same beings, all three of whom had the potential for great evil in their character, and two of whom achieved that potential in this worldline.

In a sense all three of the children -- Discord, Celestia and Luna -- are "cuckoos." They are non-Ponies in superficially-Pony form being raised by Ponies as their own. The "cuckoo" analogy even extends to the fact that they present super-stimuli to Ponies identifying them as ultra-charismatic and hyper-dominant Ponies. Specifically, they are also "cuckoos" in the sense John Wyndham meant in his classic The Midwich Cuckoos, which was filmed twice as Village of the Damned (1960, 1995) -- they are extraterrestrial aliens in superficially-Pony form (and believe me, Discord is in Pony form compared to his true form, which would drive Ponies mad at the sight of him).

There's even an important sense in which they've "rolled the eggs" of Pony destiny, which might otherwise have been taken up by Pony leaders, "out of the nest" of Pony history. Of course, the intentions of the Sisters toward the Ponies are very benign -- they are in fact the original "pegasisters," who loved Ponykind so much that they decided to cast their own fortunes along with that of the Ponies. They have in a way "gone native" and become Ponies for real, or at least in this incarnation.

Discord is more arguably a true cuckoo in that he does not have the well-being of Ponies as his main objective. On the other hand, he wanted Ponykind to continue as a species (he loves to play with his little Ponies) and usually fought in their defense against more malign forces that sought to exterminate them, or rule them far more harshly than he. Discord might argue that during his millennium of rule he protected Ponykind from more threats than The Megan did, and feel bitter that he wasn't loved for it. His argument would be shallow and self-serving, but he does have a point. A small one, since many of those threats were ones he created himself, in earlier incarnations, but a point nevertheless.

Luna explains the linguistic point to Twilight, who wouldn't otherwise have necessarily gotten it because Luna is speaking Equestrian, and Twilight actually has a big brother whom she never regarded in romantic terms. Luna, at 5 years old, was not thinking in explicitly sexual terms, but she was thinking in terms of the sort of crush that little fillies get on colts.

When Discord coils around somepony, it's fairly alarming for the Pony given the difference in size and strength, but in fact he's being affectionate. Coiling like that maximizes physical contact and renders himself vulnerable to the other. It is an analogy with the way an Alicorn or Pegasus folds a wing over somepony beloved by them, and Discord grew up with two Alicorns as his best friends. He doesn't always mean "I love you" but he does always mean at least a mocking "we're all good friends here" -- and with Discord, mockery is often a cover for more serious emotion.

Chapter 15: Applejack's Regret

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Applejack watched Rainbow Dash and Rarity not-really-fighting and smiled gently to herself.

She loved her friends. She especially loved Rainbow Dash, who had the spirit of a true competitor and a heart so courageous that Applejack's task was usually to more to save Dash from recklessness than it was to rally her to action. She supposed Dashie might have been killed several times over by now if she hadn't been looking out for her. AJ accepted watching out for Rainbow Dash to be one of the many jobs Fate had handed out to her, and she did so uncomplainingly. Friends should watch out for friends.

She could sense the outrageous lies in some of Dashie's boasts, and they amused her. Rainbow Dash was not lying basely, in the hope of using them to trick anypony into taking her at a false value. She was lying bald-faced and in fun; no way did she expect Rarity to believe her; not any more than Rarity was really outraged at those lies. Applejack could sense the byplay between them, and while she lacked Fluttershy's empathic talents, she didn't need empathy to sense the friendship underlying their banter.

Folk who knew she was Honesty often misunderstood the implications: Applejack had absolutely nothing against anypony else boasting in good jest, as Rainbow Dash was doing, though she avoided such statements herself. Nor was she especially horrified by the sort of puffery in which Rarity routinely engaged. Nor did she have anything against Ponies speaking well of themselves, especially if they believed it: after all, Applejack styled herself "the loyalest friend and most dependable of Ponies," and meant it.

Applejack was not at all stupid. She well understood the potential danger they were in: she'd gone up against Discord before and been bested by him at first, though thanks to Twilight Sparkle they'd won in the end. She'd also looked into the real Pool of Truth, deep below the Palace at Canterlot entirely too long for her own peace of mind. She knew just how bad things might become if Discord went mad again and won.

Nor -- though she was honorable and good -- was she at all innocent. She'd always had the talent for piercing lies with her perception, a talent that had been only amplified since she'd peered into the Pool, and when one can directly see the lies around oneself, one is no longer capable of much innocence regarding the world. She'd been shocked by what she'd seen in some Ponies, and pleasantly surprised by what she'd seen in others. The real surprise had come in how often truth and lies did not correspond with the surface presentations of good and evil. She'd always noticed this somewhat, but it was different when one could see it directly.

She tried to avoid looking too deeply into most Ponies without a good reason. She knew that in at least one reality she'd demanded constant and complete truth from everypony around her, and become Nightmare Mirror: this was a fate she feared. To fight white lies and petty prevarications was not the reason for which she had been born, or given these powers. She had another, more aggressive ability, which she very much feared to use without a very good reason. She hoped she wouldn't have to use it today. Especially not on him.

Applejack had no idea what would happen if she forced Discord to face the truth about himself. He might decide that he needed to be more the Pony for his own happiness; or he might decided that he needed to be more the Chaos God for his own integrity. Applejack was not sure what path she would choose in his position -- though she knew she'd rather choose to act as a Pony and know Friendship -- and she was acutely aware of what might happen if he decided to fully be the Chaos God.

She wondered what Princess Luna was telling Twilight in the other room. It must have been something pretty bad, and something involving Discord. Applejack had seen the lie-by-omission growing as they had discussed Discord's true nature with Luna, until Luna's own inherent Honesty could be restrained no more, not toward Twilight Sparkle, one whom Luna loved.

Twilight had of course entirely failed to keep the secret that Luna loved her: this was something that Rarity strongly suspected from purely mundane clues, and which Applejack saw almost screaming from Luna every time Luna looked at the younger Alicorn. Applejack could also tell that Twilight wasn't entirely sure how to respond to such affection. This was very obviously Twilight's first experience of being loved romantically by somepony she was capable of accepting as a mate, and Applejack could tell Twilight was both happy and a little scared regarding the situation.

Applejack was herself entirely heterosexual, but she saw nothing wrong with lesbian love, provided that it was meant honorably by both parties, which was the same moral criterion by which she would have judged any romantic love. Twilight herself was in all ways one of the most honorable Ponies Applejack had ever known -- one of the reasons Applejack had liked her so much from the start -- and Luna was similar. Once freed from the Nightmare, Luna had shown herself to be a very good Pony indeed, and Applejack thought her a fit mate for her friend. Or her brother, really, though Applejack knew Big Mac wasn't actually attracted much to Luna that way.

Some might have thought it more than a bit arrogant of Applejack to make such a judgement with regards to a Ruling Princess of Equestria. But Applejack, while reverential to authority, was neither intimidated by nor servile to it; she considered good and evil, honor and dishonor, to be qualities attaching to the choices of individuals regardless of their stations in life. The four Princesses were good because of who they were, not because of what they were. And she judged Luna as somepony she could trust with Twilight's heart.

Things would be going well for her friends -- if they could survive the next few days. Which was far from an automatic assumption, given who might be attacking them.

If he was attacking them. Applejack wasn't so sure about that. Discord was hard to read -- his mind was twisty and complicated, his motives mixed, as if he were more than one being, and that being more than a bit loco -- but as of late he hadn't seemed hostile toward them. He'd seemed more mischievous, as if he'd wanted to play with them -- and not even all that rough. Times he'd claimed to be their friend, AJ couldn't catch him lying.

That could switch fast, though, with thwarted love. Applejack didn't think that he'd hurt Fluttershy -- she was, after all, the object of his affections -- but she could definitely see him hurting Bulk. And anypony who got in his way when he was trying.

A lot depended, Applejack knew, on what Fluttershy said to Discord.

Applejack loved Fluttershy -- it was very hard not to love Fluttershy -- but she couldn't help but think of her as a bit immature, despite the fact that she was at 24 one of the oldest of her little circle of friends, with Applejack herself at 26 the only one older. In particular, Fluttershy seemed to have only the vaguest idea of how romantic love worked.

To Applejack love was simple. You picked the stallion you loved, you loved him, and you stuck by him unless he did something real bad to drive you off.

At least that was the theory. The theory had led to certain practical problems with Landscape Carrot, her fillyhood sweetheart who had six years ago gone into the Evergloom Swamps a thousand miles to the southeast to find treasure with which to win her as an equal, even though he'd already won her in every blamed way possible, and he'd never come out again and she didn't even know if he was alive or dead so she didn't know whether to keep on waiting for him to return or start mourning him -- but that didn't mean that the theory was bad. Just that its practice in life wasn't always neat and easy.

But there was no point making love more complex than it had to be. Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash had done that. First Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash loved one another. Then they quarreled because Fluttershy had never told Rainbow she was half Changeling -- admittedly that was a fairly big lie of omission, but from what Fluttershy had once told her she'd tried to let Rainbow know, but Rainbow just didn't believe her, and before a year and a half ago, nopony had really known that Changelings were anything but a legend.

Then Rainbow fell for Azure Sky. Who it turned out was a Changeling pure and simple, no "half" about it. Which would have been funny if it hadn't just about broken Rainbow's heart. And then the love lives of those three became something you'd need a score card to track, with Rainbow unsure who to love, and Sky and 'Shy accepting pretty much whatever love Dashie gave either one of them, which come to think of it sort of made sense given that they were 'Lings, though Applejack didn't like to think dismissively of a whole Kind that way. Which was about half Rainbow Dash's fault, of course, she shoulda made up her mind!

And then the last year, Fluttershy had become Discord's sort of Assigned Friend, with the assignment coming straight from Princess Celestia, and being Fluttershy once she actually decided to like somepony, or in this case some-whatever-you-called-a-Draconequus, she pulled out all the stops. Applejack could have told her she was just asking for trouble, cuddling up to Discord the way she was, which couldn't help but to give him the wrong idea. Poor ole Chaos God couldn't help it, whatever else he was he was male. Wouldn't have been entirely safe for a mare to act like that even around, say, a sweet stallion like Mackie -- though at least you knew that Big Mac wasn't going to start hurting Ponies over a misunderstanding.

Applejack could actually feel some sympathy for Discord, the way 'Shy had been teasing him. If she didn't mean it that way, she shouldn't have been leading him on so. AJ never would have been that affectionate to any stallion if she wasn't meaning to say "I love you" -- which of course had meant that she hadn't been that affectionate to any stallion for the last six years. Which bothered her some, especially late at night when she got lonesome -- but that was better than trifling with them, and what was happening now was proof of that. Though, admittedly, what was happening now was worse than what normally came of foolish trifling.

Then came poor Bulk Biceps, dancing happily onto the quicksand without realizing what he was letting himself in for. Applejack liked Bulkie -- he was a good guy, and he'd deserved better than that no-account wife who had left him the moment that she realized that the consequences of matrimony might include a little Featherweight cramping her style. AJ wished she had somepony sweet like Bulk to cuddle her and love her and give her a nice smart little'un like Feather to call her own. Mare was a fool, no two ways about that.

And Fluttershy fell for Bulk Biceps, not that surprisingly -- once she saw that despite his size he was a total sweetie, that his shouting was as much an expression of fundamental shyness as 'Shy's own soft little voice. AJ wasn't sure why 'Shy drifted away from Rainbow to do this -- they hadn't seemed to have a real fight, really. Mebbe it was that time that Rainbow tried to trade Shy for a book, or mebbe 'Shy was just tired of fillyfooling -- Applejack was far more brutally honest in her own private thoughts than even she would ever have been aloud to her friends.

And it's not like any single stallion was likely to resist Fluttershy, when she gave him one of those big sun-rising smiles -- AJ herself was neither stallion nor fillyfooler, but she could see why first Dashie and then Bulkie had been drawn to 'Shy. She was almost a force of Nature in that regard, when she wanted to be. The fact that Fluttershy seemed to herself be completely unaware of her own beauty only enhanced the appeal.

Only 'Shy had obviously never realized how Discord felt, obviously never sat down and had a talk with him about all this. So she'd left it for him to discover, and he'd discovered it, the worst possible way. Thus their current situation.

Not that this excused Discord's rudeness. AJ herself would have been plumb furious if any stallion had started spying on her in her own bedroom. But then, this was Discord -- merely spying on somepony was almost good behavior, by his standards.

She wondered if she could do some good by talking to Discord. He'd never hated her, not even when they'd been foes, though he'd never specially liked her either. Still, AJ knew she was good at keeping calm in a crisis, and sometimes at calming down others. She'd had plenty of practice with Dashie, to be sure. Though it was not as if she could simply grab Discord by the tail and hold him back, as she often did with Rainbow Dash. She chuckled to herself briefly at the imagined picture.

She looked to where Featherweight was ensconced in one corner, his little brown-maned head bent over a photography book, his creamy muzle buried in the contents. Featherweight was trying to distract himself, she knew, from his fear of Discord. That fear was not baseless. Featherweight had been among those to suffer the worst on the Day of Discord, over three years ago when the Chaos God had escaped his imprisonment and the world had become madness.

Applejack knew what had happened, of course, and that discovery had been one of the moments she had most felt her gift of seeing Truth to be a curse. Twilight had said, earlier today, that Discord wouldn't force Fluttershy, because the one evil he refrained from committing was rape. Applejack had wanted to say something, but she knew that speaking of it would have horrified Fluttershy, and possibly snapped the only even slightly-reliable restraint they had on his actions.

The lie -- even of omission -- still rankled within her. She would have to tell Fluttershy the truth, later, or it would tear her apart with the restraint. Any mendacity -- especially toward a friend -- was very hard for Applejack to maintain. If she kept it up for too long, it might actually destroy her attunement to her Element. Besides, it was just plain low-down.

What Discord claimed was narrowly true. He did not directly rape anypony. But he had no scruples against mind-controlling Ponies into behavior with each other which Applejack would have had no difficulty recognizing as rape-by-proxy. He had done this to Filthy Rich's whole household on the Day of Discord, and Featherweight had been unfortunate enough to be at their doorstep and thus swept up in his spell.

Featherweight -- like everypony else in that spell save for Filthy Rich himself, had been shifted into the semblance of Golden Tiara, Filthy Rich's insane wife. And Filthy Rich, his own mental resistance obviously overcome by a combination of Discord's raw power and his own overwhelming desire to have his wife back with him, had proceeded to mate with the whole lot of them, all of them rendered incapable by the spell of questioning the surreal horror of their situation.

They'd all remembered what happened afterward, though. Including Featherweight. Who had been around eleven years old at the time.

Applejack had done her best to help Featherweight, using the healing powers of Truth to help him realize that this hadn't been his fault, that what had happened didn't mean that he was dirty or bad, that still less did it mean that he wasn't really male. That had been one of the hardest healings she'd ever done; it had come close to breaking her as well, and she was normally pretty strong.

She'd mostly succeeded -- Featherweight had certainly stopped hiding -- but there seemed to be an extra fragility about him afterward, a hint of damage yet unhealed. Applejack had no clue how to heal him any further. She'd noticed that he'd since become good friends with Snails Carrot, and wondered if Featherweight was aware of Snails' hidden personality. But she couldn't go living other Ponies' lives for them -- that way lay madness, and Nightmare.

As far as she knew, Bulk Biceps did not know exactly what had happened to his son on the Day of Discord. The lie-by-omission bothered her, but she knew that now would be the worst time to tell Bulk about it, with the possible consequences including Bulk's death or madness, all the way up to a war between Discord and Equestria if this also shattered Fluttershy's friendship with the Draconequus. She also knew that Featherweight didn't want his father to know the truth about this.

Applejack hated situations like this. Evasion upon evasion, lie piled on lie, and if she just shoved the whole mess over, rotten as a termite-raddled tree, many innocent Ponies would suffer. Ghostly in the back of her mind, Mirror stirred, demanded release. She shoved the evil impulse back down where it belonged; far from conscious thought and action.

She wished for the lost days of her youth. Ten years ago she had recked not of balancing catastrophes with lies, of Chaos Gods and Nightmares, of polices and Princesses. She'd worked the farm and on her time off roamed the hills with Landscape Carrot, laughing and playing, having their mostly-harmless teenaged adventures, teasing him with her tail, and speculating, slyly and shyly, about the day they'd pledge their troth, and she'd do more than tease him. When had her life become so sad and complicated?

She missed her innocence.

On cue, something pink bounded across her field of view, grinning at her cheerfully.

"Hey, Applejack, you have such a sad frowny face right now and I want to make you smile so I was thinking that you'd like it if I gave you an apple pie we got from your farm but I strawberry-frosted it and made cute faces all over the top so now it's kind of like a Pinkie Apple Pie and it's all cheerful and tasty and I was saving it for the big party we'll have after we win when we're all happy and maybe do a song number but do you want it now?" Pinkie emitted without, as far as Applejack could tell, taking a breath anywhere during the sentence. She produced the cake from some unknown place of storage. It was indeed, strawberry-frosted, with caricatures of all seven of them surrounding a coiled-up Discord in vanilla icing.

Well, t'aint mah innocence, but it'll do for now, thought Applejack, smiling. It was very difficult not to smile when Pinkie Pie said and did something like that. She felt the gloom lifting.

"Naw, sugarcube, we should wait until after we see how things go," Applejack answered. "But thank you for the kind thought." She smiled even more warmly at Pinkie Pie, and Pinkie returned the smile.

"Oh well," she said. "More for us on the lines where we win and this doesn't get squished!" She returned the pie to whatever odd place she had gotten it from. "Which is future-us too!"

"Ah take it you have a good feeling about the way this'll all turns out?" inquired Applejack. Pinkie Pie had some sort of ability to see the future, and it was never a good idea to ignore her predictions.

"Yeppers!" said Pinkie brightly. "We'll all be safe and happy until the next time which will be very bad and I'll really miss this place but that won't be for lots of days! And we'll prolly all live through that, too!" she squeaked. "So it's okay!"

Applejack's Pinkie Pie to Equestrian decoder was not as elaborate as was Twilight Sparkle's But she got the gist of it. They'd survive Discord now, but something bad would happen in the future, but they'd all survive this. And the bad thing would destroy some place Pinkie liked. The Golden Oaks Library? Some other place in town? The whole town? AJ wasn't sure, but she also knew it was a bad idea to press Pinkie too much on the details.

"Okay," she said slowly, considering the implications, and on which detail was worth asking about. "Um, Pinkie -- is the very bad danger from Discord?"

"Nope!" replied Pinkie. "Not mostly. He's not really a meanie anymore. He's just sad. Don't know what it is that's coming but it's not mostly Discord. And not now."

Applejack had her doubts about Pinkie's opinion of Discord -- the flip side of innocence was being too trusting, which was a quality Pinkie had in spades. But if she said that Discord wasn't going to attack them, she was probably right; and in that case she wanted to make sure that they didn't change his plans by attacking Discord. She should probably bring this up with the Moon Princess when she emerged from the library -- the weapons Luna had been packing made it obvious she was loaded for bear.

"You'll see!" Pinkie laughed. "Everything will be okay and we'll come through and we'll have lots more adventures. And parties!"

Applejack devoutly hoped that Pinkie was right.

Author's Notes:

Sky is Phoenix_Dragon's creation. His original Changeling name is Azure -- I'm assuming here that eventually he becomes known by both, creating a typical Equestrian compound name. For the sake of my fanon I'm also assuming he survives the wrath of Queen Chrysalis. Rainbow Dash's romance with him was originally very much on the rebound from Fluttershy -- but this being Dashie, she's not capable of emotional detachment.

Snails' alter-ego is explained in Ask Glittershell. By Pony standards this would make his full name Snailsquirm Glittershell Carrot -- if he let others know his secret. Which I can see why he doesn't.

Even though I first encountered Glittershell through Lovecolt, I do not agree with Lovecolt that everypony would reject Snails if they knew the truth. In particular, I agree with the blog that Rarity already knows about Glittershell, and in this story I'm explicitly stating that Applejack has figured it out as well (since her vision pierces lies).

But some of his current friends might reject him. And his family be weirded out by him. Homosexuality is one thing, but transgendered sexuality is a bit weirder. Snails wouldn't really be happy without an actual transformation into a female.

And no, Applejack is not afraid that Snails will harm Apple Bloom. Aside from the facts that Snails is one of the most obviously harmless Ponies in town, and that Apple Bloom is a tough little filly who could probably beat him two falls out of three, there's nothing obviously corrupting about Apple Bloom knowing a filly-souled colt. Apple Bloom is a filly and perfectly, obviously happy with being one. And there are things around Ponyville far weirder, more confusing and even dangerous than Snails/Glittershell. Apple Bloom is even friends with some of them -- including Discord!

Applejack's main fear regarding Apple Bloom and colts involves something that Snails is entirely disinclined to do to fillies. And against which she hopes Apple Bloom's own strong will and common sense will principally protect her.

The version of Featherweight here, and his relationship to Bulk Biceps as son, comes from Featherweight Responds. Featherweight doesn't have a clue that Snails is a transgendered colt conceiving of himself as a filly named Glittershell; a concept which might have a horrible emotional resonance for him considering Featherweight's own Twisting (inspired by Alex Warlorn's series). Featherweight is despite what happened an extremely innocent Pony, who doesn't even grasp that a colt might be attracted to him sexually, and has a crush on Lace Secret's niece Twist.

For that matter Snails / Glittershell is also pretty darn innocent, and barely conceives of any sexual relationship beyond a lot of hugging and kissing at present. They're all just kids.

Chapter 16: A Trip To The Library

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Luna's Tale

I could tell thee the tale of that journey, dear Twilight, that journey we made through a lost world in its last years of life, though none who lived then knew it. We, whose fault it would be to doom that world, did not yet suspect the role we would play. We were young and innocent, we two Avatars of forces far older than this planet ... in my case, older than the very existence of planets. Yet we knew naught of our earlier lives, and to us all the Earth was new, and wondrous discoveries around every wend of our way.

But the tale would be long if told properly, and it should be told properly. And we have not the time today. So I shall skip over all but the roughest outline, and leave the true tale to another day, when we may meet in more happiness.

I had long noticed that I could blend into shadows, and Dissy could move between the spaces of reality when he so desired. So we cloaked ourselves, and avoided the main road, and were unseen, even though the trackers from Paradise Estate searched for us frantically. Once we hid, giggling to one another, as we saw Wind Whistler swoop overhead, and I risked all by giving her a raspberry, unheard in the great gulfs of sky. Her keen mind had divined our path, but she could not match our raw power, which was another portent, had I the wit to see it plain before me.

We were, of course, causing great pain to our mothers, but we recked not of this, for we were children out on a grand adventure.

And it was a grand adventure. We saw wonders and mysteries and Dissy saved me from getting killed by a Dragon, and then I saved him from getting killed by the very same Dragon, and we were laughing and whooping with excitement as we fled with the woods burning behind us. It was the first time that we'd fought for real, fought for our lives, in these Incarnations, and it was a special and magical moment.

There were a coven of evil warlocks who dogged our trail, hoping to enslave us or slay us for the power we held. We took them as so many jesters provided for our entertainment. Dissy humilated them spectacularly, and I bit a couple of them. They annoyed us all the way into the Crystal City. I almost felt sorry for them at times. I think that at some point they ran into Wind Whistler, for I never heard of any of them ever again. Some may have lived by fleeing very fast.

And the Crystal City! Oh, Twilight, thou shouldst have seen it in its days of glory, those last years of the Old Empire, when all its future seemed bright. It was only nine-hundred and six-and-seventy years since the foundation of the city, Anno urbis conditae as they said in the Old Amareican, and as they told their years. The Crystal Palace was new then, towering a quarter-mile into the sky, the latest and greatest product of their newest art, a combination of crystallomantic magic and a technology they had drawn from the tomes they had saved from the Cataclysm, the art of nanotechnology. The Crystal-Imperials could make microscopic machines and use them to grow immensely pure crystalline matrices, channeling the Earth current itself to power them..

The art was made secret in the Age of Discord, and its principles forgotten. Rock farming is but its most rote and trivial application. It awaits rediscovery, among many mysteries hidden somewhere under the Imperial Library, in their Secret Vaults. Hidden by ... well, you met Him. Not even Lady Agatha knows where, and He never told Tourmaline. No, if I knew exactly where He hid them, I would have brought them to light by now. He probably warped them slightly out of our spacetime as he did with much else, and I have been too busy to investigate. Perhaps we shall try these vaults together, someday? It would be a grand adventure.

The Empire was then under the rule of Golden Mark, the greatest of its Imperators, who governed justly and wisely with the aid of his Great Council. He and the Good Imperators who had preceded him had brought law and science and a better way of life to every corner of their realm; and were in the process of restoring the rule of the Council which had preceded them and been shattered in the stress of the Coming of the Ice and the Wanderings of the Tribes, three and a half centuries ago. The people were prosperous and happy, and Harmony reigned -- even two children like us could see it as we walked the streets of the Crystal City, marveling at the multitudes.

We walked it in disguise. For me that was easy; I simply wore a short cloak and kept my wings folded, and everypony assumed that I was but an exceptionally-attractive little Unicorn. Dissy was more difficult, but a big shapeless cloak and some boots turned him into my slightly-deformed family servant, sent to escort me on a trip to family in the city. My accent was obviously foreign -- indeed impossible to identify, as it was a mixture of Old Ponylandish and an even older and purer Amareican than was spoken today in the Empire -- but there were many strange peoples who immigrated to or traded with the Empire, and we went unchallenged.

The streets swarmed with so many beings. There were Ponies from all over North Amareica, come to this then-center of the world to meet and trade and converse and simply marvel at the wonder that was The City.

There were the Crystal Ponies themselves, sparkling in the sunlight, the magics of their Kind rendering them almost translucent. Most were Earth Ponies, descended from members of the faculty of the University of the Western Beautiful Lake who fled into the wilderness with books, supplies and weapons when The Cataclysm ended the Age of Wonders. The elite were Unicorns, the result of a tribe who had allied with the scholars because they cherished both their knowledge and their skill at arms. After many wanderings they had founded Laketown, the settlement which became called the Crystal City and its realm the Crystal Empire for the reasons you well know.

The Crystal Ponies were then peaceful, prosperous and secure. Strong and well-disciplined legions defended their borders, principally their northern ones, from the barbarians who menaced their civilization. The great markets of the City served as a point of exchange for the wealth of North Amareica, and from this their merchants waxed rich, and the Imperial coffers swelled with silver and gold. It had been centuries since any enemy had penetrated to The City itself; and the Empire had long since adapted to the Coming of the Ice.

Warmed by their arts despite their northerly latitude, the Crystal City was balmy and comfortable, and the inhabitants went about clad in filmy silk garments, more for display than protection against inclement weather. They lived in luxury and grace, and if they were perhaps a little bit decadent, they were beautifully-so, and they had fought very hard for centuries to win the space of civilization in which they might choose to be. To my childish eyes, they were plainly and simply lovely.

There were many Crystal Ponies from elsewhere in the Empire, visiting their capital. The tough-as-nails Bay-Ponies of the far north, shaggy and silent. They were the ones who had stayed and survived the Coming of the Ice, they had heard the Windigoes howl and seen the great shapes of the Frost Giants moving on their northern horizons. On another journey I would see Iceguard, their great city-fort. They seemed out of place in the gay beauty of the Crystal City, and moved warily, as if they feared the Ice-Orcs or Snow-Griffons would attack at any moment. They bore ice-axes and picks strapped to their backs, and though peace-bonded looked as if they expected to have to use them.

There were Ponies from the Morgan Coast, led by leathery-skinned captains who had traveled up the Laurentian River. These were bold Ponies who dwelt on the Stormy Sea, and diced with their lives against those storms to bring forth fish from the seas. Their inland cousins felled the trees of the great pine forests, risking their own bodies in the dangerous occupation of lumberjacking. So many of them -- almost all stallions -- died young that the mares sometimes wed two to a stallion, and thus this was called a Morgan-Marriage, and still is today. Things have not changed that much in those trades in Morgan, though now it is Equestrian instead of Imperial, and more and more of the Ponies who live there work in safer occupations, thanks to the coming of this Age of Industry.

One day the fisherfolk shall have motorboats, equipped with radar and navigated by satellite reference; and the lumberjacks will use great machines to fell and tow the trees, and an age will have passed, not to return save as the curse of another Cataclysm. I shall not much regret the passage of that age, though I have seen the Morgan-lands as they were before the time of powered machinery, for I have also heard the new-made widows wail when a storm sank the fishing fleet of a coastal town.

Independent of the Empire then was the Island of Manehattan, and its hinterland of the Yoke, so named because those lands were well-plowed at a time when much was wilderness. This was then the Republic of Manehattan, home of the Sea-Pegasi, who were not some hybrid Kind but instead Pegasi who had turned their weather control talents to sailing across the Stormy Seas, and occasionally beyond, for they were an adventurous and brave people. At this time the Titan Towers of the Age of Wonders were almost fifteen centuries fallen -- Moondreamer knew those towers in her life, when they were seen as ordinary if beautiful buildings rather than objects of a time of myth, and so did you, dear friend, we shopped together more than once in Ancient Manehattan -- and the skyscrapers of today were almost two and a half millennia in the future. Manehattan then was mostly rural, its coasts beaded with harbor towns and its inland and surrounding islands devoted to farms.

The Manehattanites even then were jaunty and self-confident, wearing colorful and well-made clothes with a slightly alien cast, since they traded with the Dragons and Griffons and Onagers and Zebras. Yes, this was before there were general pacts with the first two of those races not to prey on Ponies. As I said, the Sea-Pegasi were bold captains, and their ocean-traders sailed with large crews and many weapons on board, ready to trade or to fight as events compelled. I call them Sea-Pegasi, but of course there were also Earth Ponies and Unicorns among their number. What they had in common was that their speech was rushed and strangely accented, and they looked at the inhabitants of the Crystal City with a sort of amused contempt, as if they were already the most important city on the continent, though at this time this was far from the truth. They were like this back in the Age of Wonders, too, even though all were slain or forced to flee that island by the Cataclysm, and hence were not their lineal ancestors. I think 'tis simply something about the island that encourages the attitude.

Pegasi strutted through the crowds. These all looked like warriors, even though many were not, and not one of them failed to wear a war-harness from which weapons depended. We could see the wires of the peace-bonds that secured the weapons to those harnesses, rendering them harmless. It was obvious that their owners were far from harmless; they moved with a beautiful deadly grace that reminded me of Wind Whistler at her exercises -- though, of course, she was far more beautiful, graceful -- and deadly -- than any of them.

They came from the cloud-castles and sky-fortresses, of which there were at that time many. The coming Age was to change that. Derecho would be fortunate in her possession of the Laputa-Stone, which would keep off the principal danger of that coming Age, and strong walls and valiant soldiers who would repel all the lesser threats, and so Derecho still drifts across the Northlands today -- though of course long since deserted. The lesser castles would all one by one fall, and their proud banners descend into darkness.

Clad in fur cloaks and hats were the Ponies of the far-western towns of the New-Speakers, who had emigrated around the Cruel Sea across the land-bridge that the seas had drained from four centuries ago, when the glaciers had grown in the North. They had brought with them little of the high culture of the Old Worlds, but they were a hearty and jolly folk, inured to great effort and suffering, yet retaining their good cheer, and they laughed and sang songs of joy. These were caravan-traders, glad to have reached The City at least and sell their cargoes of woods and furs from their homelands, and silks and spices from over the seas, from their ports where the Chi-Neighse traders came to call.

Those ports are all drowned now, and that people reduced to the one great city of Stalliongrad and its surrounding towns; such were the ravages of the Age to come. Yet their culture still lives, and indeed two mares from that city run a beauty spa in this very town in which we sit Enduring and tough are the Speaker-Ponies, and more than once their struggles have driven History. May they and their race long survive!

There were Earth Ponies, always encountered in organized groups, clad in cool cottons decorated in strictly geometrical symbols. They moved with a certain almost stiff reserve, as if their motions were controlled by patterns which must be followed to the letter, even in little matters such as how to place their hooves when they walked, or the manner in which they turned their heads, the angles of the jaws to their necks. The leader of each group wore an elaborate head-dress.

Far to the south, far to the south even of Dream Valley was their city. Past the Badlands, in what is now the Gulf Swamps, lay Lith, the teeming City of Stone, where Ponies lived lives of extreme order in a complex hierarchy under the direction of their Priestess-Queens. They had the Lawstone, a great sphere upon which were microscopically engraved patterns which their priests said held the answers to all the questions in the Universe. They were right, though not in the manner they imagined.

My Sister and I were to spend much time living among them in times to come. It was a safe haven during the coming millennium of darkness, and they treated us with great respect, though I found them dull and overly-rigid. Ah, my dearest friend, thou wouldst have found them dull and rigid too. Thou art indeed lawful by the standards of the society my Sister has shaped, but thou wouldst swiftly have become bored by the Ponies of Lith. I think Pinkie Pie might have driven them mad!

Though their Library might have proved a delight to thy well-ordered mind, even given that most of it is generations of tax records and maintenance reports. Some might even survive -- much of it was literally set in stone, even before ... but that is another story, and a sad one, for stodgy as they were, they were still good Ponies.

There were Ponies from other places. Ponies clad in colorful and elaborately decorated silks from far-off Chi-Neigh or Neigh-Pon, lands across the great Cruel Ocean far to the west. Two of the Neigh-Ponners, attended closely by grim-faced samurai, had scaly faces and leathery wings: ki-rin of their daimyo class. There was a small party of unicorns, hooded and robed in cottons and silks inscribed in strange sigils, and attended by less-elaborately clad Earth Ponies, who must have come from the fabled Heartspire, far to the southwest on our own continent.

And there were more than Ponies present. At one point we saw a a medium-sized Dragon (a large one would have had problems fitting into even that main street) attended by Ponies and Griffons who may have been his companions or servants, running errands for him. There were Ice Orcs who must have been from one of the more civilized tribes in the Crystal Mountains, come to the city bearing coffers of the flawless gems which grow on those heights. There was a small party of Zebras from the southlands of the Old Worlds.

And many more, more than I can describe in the time we have. The Crystal City was in its day of glory like Canterlot or Manehattan, a great metropolis on whose streets might be found any of the sapients of the whole world. A city that was already the center of our continent, which might have under the wise leadership of Imperators like Golden Mark become in time the center of a global dominion. Their technology was alien to that of the Age of Wonders, they had taken the first steps toward nanotechnological engineering and paradimensional energetics, but still had not regained the use of steam engines -- but they had never forgotten the dream, they had set their hooves back on the road to the stars.

Had the world of my childhood not ended, and ended so disastrously ... but regret is useless. We can only learn ... thou must learn ...

So disguise turned out to be the least of our problems. In that international and polyglot multitude, nopony paid any attention to two more strangers, to one bad little filly and her presumed servitor. I think if Dissy had gone naked, none would have realized what he really was. How could they? Even he did not yet know what he was, in truth.

Dissy had another problem, though. He'd been feeling increasingly ill as we approached the borders of the City, and his powers weakened as we crossed them. He said that it reminded him of the Rainbow, much weaker but widespread. It came from the heart of the City, from the Crystal Palace itself.

Thou hast, I am sure, guessed what beset my friend. For you know what sits between the great feet of the Crystal Palace, at the center of the plaza formed of their capacious arch, levitated by the interaction of its own paramagnetic field with that of the vast antenna that is the Crystal Palace.

The Crystal Heart.

Its own radiance is akin to that of the Rainbow of Harmony, whose direct presence Dissy could not bear. He was growing inside the Veil around Paradise Estate -- which was, of course, building up his resistance to the Rainbow's power -- but the Crystal Palace was built to broadcast the power of the Crystal Heart throughout the City, and -- more weakly -- the whole continent. The field could not petrify him, but its Law weakened the Chaos that was the source of his magic.

Dissy must have been very uncomfortable, perhaps in actual pain, as we walked the streets of that shining city. He complained of this once or twice, but I -- wrapped up in my own little-filly ego and purpose -- only asked him if he could continue, and when he said "Yes," paid it no further mind. He put up with the discomfort, of course, because he loved, and wished to protect me. I was, after all, his little sister.

It has occurred to me in after ages that Dissy was very vulnerable then. He was but a young colt, and though he was already the size of a stallion, and had teeth and claws, his magic was gone. He would have been defenseless against a mage, or a squadron of Imperial soldiers. Had the Imperator known what damage the adult Discord would do to the Empire -- to the whole world -- even an ethical Pony such as Golden Mark would have not hesitated to strike him down. Or at least hold him a helpless captive, his own power neutralized by the radiations of the Crystal Heart.

And, had the Imperials somehow acquired this knowledge, and acted upon it, I would have fought like a demon out of Tartarus to protect my Big Brother. Yes, Twilight, I think that even had I known What truly lurked behind Dissy, I would have fought for him.

I could do no less for one whom I loved. I do not know if I would choose any other course today. I am a simple Concept, and I do not let go of my friends.

I am overdramatic. The Imperator never knew that I had brought the doom of his nation to the heart of his power. Nor did Dissy yet know his own nature. We walked peacefully through the city's streets, felt its richly varied life hum around us, looked awestruck at the complex culture of that most beautiful metropolis in its last remaining scatters of years, before we were to wreak irreperable harm upon its friendly empire.

We did not know. I must remind myself of this to think of those years without too much pain. I did not intend their destruction. Still less did Dissy, who was only here to protect his beloved little sister from her own folly.

There was no confrontation, no violence, no disaster on this visit. I knew that if any Ponies had ever known the secret of my nature -- if there had ever in truth been real Alicorns, then that knowledge would be most likely to exist in one place on the whole continent of North Amareica.

The Great Library of the Crystal Empire.

It looked then much as thou hast seen it, at least externally. Like the Crystal Palace, the Great Library was one of the special macro-crystals grown by the Empire with their lost nano-technological arts, and it contains within each tiny lithic cell of its structure the blueprint for its form entire. Given energy -- the energy which radiates from the Crystal Heart -- and a small feedstock of silicon, carbon, oxygen and some trace elements, it will in time heal any hurt done to it short of being totally shattered. That is why the Library, and a few other buildings grown the same way, have endured over a millennium and a half of existence in their own timeline unworn -- they do not wear save by slow cancerous processes, and their pseudo-genetic matrix contains significant error-checking machinery, far more certain than those possessed by Ponies. They are marvels of science and sorcery, a fulfillment of one of the dreams of the Age of Wonders, whose secrets all Ponykind must one day learn, so that their sibling structures may grow in all our cities.

Within ... well, this was still the Early Empire. There were many books penned during the Middle and Late Empire which of course were not on its shelves. But there were many other books, including some inscribed on the imperishable titanium steel sheets that the University scholars had fabricated from 3D print-forges, which have since been lost. There were whole sections that my poor dear friend Crimson hid for all time, when he descended into his final madness. And many less special books which succumbed to the ravages of time.

We did not have copies of all these books at Paradise Estate. Wind Whistler was a bibliomaniac to rival even thyself, my dear one, but not even she could collect, store and maintain a library as vast as that of the Crystal Empire at the height of its glory. Here would be secrets held no where else in the world, including perhaps the secret of my true nature, and possibly even of Dissy's.

So it was with high hopes that Dissy and I mounted the great front steps of the Library. I wished I might doff my hooded cape and flutter in on my little wings; Dissy doubtless winced with each step, washed as he was in the hostile radiation of the Crystal Heart. But he followed me, moved by a pure love that a selfish young filly took as but her right and due.

As we stepped inside, we stood awestruck at the great expanse of shelves, the sheer numbers of tomes revealed within. Thou wert awed by it thyself when thous first spied it, and thou art the daughter of printers in a country that has had cheap printing for centuries. We did come from a world where only the most advanced societies had printing presses, and these slow and clumsy things compared to the steam presses of modern Equestria.

Three levels, each of them twice the height of a rearing Pony, and each of them with shelves stretching far into the wings, stuffed with books and codexes, pamphlets and scrolls, sheets and tablets, every sort of text imaginable to the Pony mind. And that was what was visible from the entry chamber. We knew that there were locked collections in side rooms, and store-rooms and vaults in basements and sub-basements below the main structure, spaces hewed into the living rock upon which the Library had been founded.

Wind Whistler had been here many a time, and she had told us tales of this place, tales we had but half-believed, for surely no archive so wondrous could exist in waking reality? But now we were here, and it was spread out before us, a feast of the mind beyond our wildest imagination! Even Dissy forgot his discomfort, or perhaps in viewing this treasure of the intellect he briefly harmonized more with the Heart, and hence took less harm from it.

What you saw still there was but a remnant: Crimson and Tourmaline were librarians, remember, and they hid the really good books from the feared Equestrian sack. They await our discovery, at some future date.

Thou droolest, dear friend. Feel no shame for this! I shared thine sentiments.

As we stood there uncertainly, a young librarian stepped up to us.

He was a tall, slim Crystal Unicorn colt, clad in a fine bluish-white silk tunic that went well with his whitish-blue coat and long flowing aquamarine mane, with a brooch that bore the mark of the Library. He was several years our senior, we guessed then, perhaps a dozen or so years of age -- I would have judged him older was not his flank still bare of Mark. He was lightly-built, but with an athletic musculature that was common to most of the Crystal Ponies: for they loved sports, and all social classes liked to compete in diverse games. Intelligent, deep blue eyes looked into my own, and I discerned a powerful mind behind his handsome face.

"Greetings, guests" he said in a formal but friendly tone. "Welcome to the Great Imperial Library of the Crystal City. How may I help you?"

I felt suddenly shy ... Twilight, thou dost regard me most strangely! I had very little experience of outsiders then, and he was beautiful and intelligent and older than me, yet still a child like myself at the time. Yes, of course I remember him well, how could I not? He was to be -- but that is another tale, and we have not the time for such digression.

In any event, I blushed a bit, and Dissy answered for me.

"This is the Lady Luna Selena Nyx, of a very high and noble race. I'm her servant, Dissy Oddparts," he said quite reasonably. "And who are you?" He managed to sound a little bit snobbish on that last part, as if he were a servant made proud by the importance of his mistress -- a nice touch.

The young librarian blinked in surprise as he regarded Dissy and realized, even through his concealing cloak, just how very strange appeared to be his anatomy. But he maintained his composure.

"I am Lore Diver, Junior Assistant Librarian of the Great Imperial Library, and born of Benzene Gens. Esteemed Lady Luna Selena Nyx," he continued, bowing to me. "I would be happy to help you find whaterver knowledge or diversion you seek herein."

I could not fault his manners! I instinctively returned his bow -- I was not dressed for a formal curtsey -- and regained my own dignity, such as it was at five years old. Being very much smarter than most Ponies helps somewhat, as I am sure thou hast noticed in thy own case -- but is no full substitute for experience and wisdom.

"I seek knowledge about Alicorns," I announced in my high childish treble. I had rehearsed this speech in my mind, and delivered it about as flawlessly as might be expected. "Winged unicorns."

He arched an eyebrow at me, then stroked his chin with one hoof as he stood in thought.

"I think we have some stories about that," he said at last. "Please do me the honor of following me, young Lady."

We stepped inside onto the main level, where stood the front desk and many passages between the shelves led off to the sides. As we did so I noticed that there was a middle-aged stallion behind that front desk. His coat was aquamarine, his mane dark green, and he had something about his features that reminded me of Lore Diver.

Lore Diver looked at the stallion, who smiled and nodded at the young librarian.

"These are the Esteemed Lady Luna Selena Nyx and her servant Dissy Oddparts, Esteemed Father," he said to the stallion. "They come from across the mountains to the south, looking for knowledge of Alicorns."

"Greetings, guests," said the stallion. "I am Lore Lover, the Head Librarian, and I am honored to meet you, Lady Luna." He bowed, and I once again returned the courtesy. "Shall I assume that you search for books appropriate to your age?"

I had never actually been in a formally-organized library before -- Wind Whistler's was more of a eccentrically-organized collection, with its owner serving as guardian and guide, who personally knew every resident of Paradise Estate save for us Sisters and Dissy with multi-millennial familiarity. I did not even realize how wonderful and special a thing it was that the Crystal Empire had such libraries, at least one in each of their towns of any size, though of course the satellite branches were tiny compared to this greatest one.

Remember, this was a world of barbarian tribes and wandering monsters, one in which beyond the borders of the Empire civilization only existed in scattered enclaves and principalities. And few of the enclaves and principalities and tribes had much time or effort available to devote to an organized system of learning, or maintain public libraries of any sort.

The Crystal Empire, however, had been founded by scholars -- by mares and stallions who knew the value of the written word, and its importance to future generations. They had always made it a priority, almost a sacred precept of their civilization, to preserve and disseminate knowledge. It had served them well over the centuries -- they had always had superior technology and organization to their foes. What was about to happen to them, to strip them of their provinces and reduce their once-proud empire to a ragged remnant of its former greatness, would not be their own fault.

And in Paradise Estate, there was little segregation of the ages where written knowledge was concerned. We three had not, of course, been the first ever foaled or raised on the Estate. There was a nursery and an attached schoolroom, with such books as children might appreciate on their shelves so that young ones might quench the thirsts of their minds. But when we wanted to know something that was not in those books, we went to one of the smarter adults -- Wind Whistler was our most frequent but far from our only teacher -- and asked them, And they would tell us, or give us a book on the topic.

So when I heard Lore Lover's question, I nodded -- obviously I wanted books "appropritate to my age," as indeed I wanted books appropriate to everything else about me. I did not even think twice about this.

It did not occur to me, fresh from a dramatic separation from my family and an epic journey across bandit- and monster-haunted wilderness, coming into a city more awesome than I could ever have imagined, into a library whose collection was over a thousand years old, that they would see me simply as an aristocratic little filly being escorted by her deformed servant. This did not occur to me, despite the fact that it was exactly of what my disguise had been intended to convince everypony.

In my defense, this was the first time I had attempted an infiltration. But the reality remained.

We were being sent to the Children's Section.

Chapter 17: Rarity's Reverie

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Rarity had long since given up on the argument with Rainbow Dash, which had never been more than a form of verbal play anyway. She felt tired. She'd made Fluttershy feel better, she'd made Rainbow Dash feel better, and she just wished somepony would make her feel better, because she knew she might be facing a major test of her talent.

Ponies did not always understand her talent. Even her friends sometimes failed to comprehend how she operated.

Rainbow Dash, for instance, only appreciated Rarity's admittedly-considerable athletic aptitude, and the killer instinct that made her a capable hoof-to-hoof fighter. She didn't grasp that leaping and fighting was not who Rarity was, that it was just an emergency skill she had learned to keep herself alive long enough in a dangerous situation to give herself the time to express herself, to use her real talent. Twilight Sparkle was impressed by her gem-finding, her dextrous telekinesis and her negotiating aptitude. Everypony knew that she was a very skilled dressmaker and fashion designer.

Rarity's real talent was to sense patterns and then to work with them: creation, assembling, joining, putting parts together to make a more beautiful and valuable whole. It mattered little whether these were the parts of a conversation, the parts of a dress, the parts of a business venture, or the parts (she had begun to dream) of a political empire. There were parts; by themselves they were incomplete and limited; possessing surpluses of some qualities and shortages of others. One put them together to balance the surpluses and shortages, each part supplying what the others lacked, until by combination the value of the whole became greater than the sum of its parts. It was a little like the concept of "comparative advantage" in trade she had learned at her secondary school in Fillydelphia, but much more extensive and all-embracing.

A bit over four years ago, she had helped Fluttershy surmount an unfortunate experience from her youth, and Fluttershy had introduced her to the idea of "game theory." Curious about the concept, and suspecting that it had business applications, Rarity located some books on the subject through Twilight Sparkle, and read them. One of the books she had, Non-Zero: The Logic of Equine Destiny, expressed the implications of the concept on equine action quite beautifully.

There were many possible interactions between Ponies. Some of them, like having a hoof-fight, were negative-sum -- in the end the winner was the one least injured, with the sum value of the participants reduced. Some, like playing a chess game, were zero-sum -- each player's gain was the other's loss. And the most important ones, like trading in the marketplace, were positive-sum -- if done right, both participants profited: the farmer sold her surplus apples and the dressmaker sold her a surplus dress, and now the farmer had both food and clothing and so did the dressmaker. Civilization progressed by playing larger and larger positive-sum games.

Another way of expressing the social aspects of Rarity's talent was that she was very good at playing positive-sum games. She knew when and how to give in order to receive. Put in philosophical terms, it was the essence of the Element of Generosity.

She looked around her and she saw a world of wasted potential; of deals which could be made which would make everypony happier. She had a sense for this; almost like her secondary talent of gem-dowsing. She suspected the two were linked, and meant someday to have a long discussion with Twilight Sparkle on it.

It was her destiny to make those deals, to build a great structure of Fabulosity that would enrich the whole world. Fashion design was only part of it, an avenue born of her great love of fashion and fashionable society. She was beginning to see how someday it might become so much more -- a great economic engine of productivity that would extend across nations and continents and bring wealth and culture to all Ponykind.

This was her greatest dream, though she feared ridicule too much to express it openly. After all, right now she was just a dress-maker, who was beginning to elevate herself to the rank of a minor high fashion designer. If she came right out and told everypony, they would just laugh at her -- who was she to aim so high? To dream of a global economic empire, and one which would do good for all the world? She was not even a noblemare, let alone the Princess of the Material World. She was just Rarity Belle, who was constructing her own identity one design at a time.

There was only one being to whom she had expressed a little of her dream. The one being who knew all her secrets, even the worst of them, who should have despised her for her past sins but instead continued to worship her as if she were a goddess. The one who had brought her back, more than once, from the brink of madness. The one she trusted more than any other being in the world.

That being was, of course, Spike the Dragon.

Looking back on her life she could not pinpoint the exact moment at which she realized that her best friend was now a small purple Dragon. Spike had contracted a crush on her at first sight, but that sort of thing was a fairly normal component of Rarity's life. Stallions -- and sometimes colts, or even mares -- would declare themselves hopelessly-smitten and follow her around, sighing after her.

This was flattering, the first dozen or two dozen times it happened, but ultimately rather annoying. It was not as if any of these self-proclaimed suitors actually understood the first thing about her, aside from her carefully-constructed beautiful facade. Usually, she either ignored them, or got them to do things for her until they tired of this and left her alone. She generally pointed them at some better outlet for their energies, so that they left with no hard feelings. Hurting other ponies, and making enemies in the process, formed no part of her way of life.

She had first tried to deal with Spike the same way. She had let him hang around her in return for helping her do her work. What she had not considered was that this was essentially the relationship he already had with Twilight Sparkle, his surrogate big sister and the Pony he loved most in the world. So Spike had absolutely no problem with being treated by her as her assistant. In fact, he rather liked it.

By that point she was discovering that she rather liked Spike's company. He did what he was told, even if he complained -- he was one of the very few beings Rarity had ever met with a work ethic rivaling her own. He listened to her long monologues about her business. To her surprise, after a while he started making comments that proved that he'd understood most of what she had said. And she found that, at last, she had someone with whom she could share her skills, her plans, her hopes and dreams ...

Was that when she was hopelessly lost? The strange thing about it was that Spike was constantly, obsessively, transparently trying to win her love, and he was trying to do this with somepony who had a background of an unpleasant romantic experience, a distinct lack of trust regarding male intentions, and very high marital standards which required being rich, of superior social status, and preferably her senior. And a Pony stallion. Definitely a Pony stallion.

Qualities none of which Spike the Dragon possessed.

Which made his suit hopeless. And Spike harmless, because he had the code of honor of an especially idealistic gentlecolt. He'd never hurt her. And he was adorable. He was so very nice to her. He made her feel so good about herself, made her feel as if she could accomplish anything.

She started to fall into the habit of inviting him over whenever she had major jobs. She'd serve him some tea and cakes, talk to him, and they'd work together. He was the least demanding and most useful assistant she'd ever known. She started to feel actually guilty about taking advantage of him this way, but he seemed unhappy when she suggested he stop helping her.

His conversation, the nice things he said, the intelligent comments and suggestions he made, started to become at least as important to her as his actual assistance. She found herself looking forward to the time she spent with him. He was no longer just Twilight Sparkle's strange assistant or an oddly-affable stalker. He'd become her close friend.

She should have known that was dangerous. But she'd never had a close male friend before, not since she'd thought Rush Rocks had been her friend, and had proven to be in truth so very much the opposite. Before Rush, she'd been a -- mostly -- innocent little filly; after him, a bitterly-distrustful young mare with little time for any stallion who did not match her long-term plans.

And Spike's very harmlessness disarmed her, let him right through all the defenses she'd built around her to keep out a second Rush Rocks. All her sentries simply smiled at him and waved him on through the gates, into her emotional fortress. By the time she'd understood what was happening, it was too late: Spike meant too much to her for her to give up his friendship. There were the memories of the happiness he'd brought her in the past, his uncomplaining efforts on her behalf, the anticipation of pleasure from his presence in her future.

His suit was still hopeless, of course. In the scant time she had available between her business and the needs of her friends or the demands of the Realm she sought out and stepped out with stallions, often "dating" them in the more modern fashion common to the cities. As her social circle widened, she felt certain that she could find a stallion she liked, one who liked her back, and who was worthy of her own increasing status. Which meant, of course, one of superior status to her own.

More than half of them, coming as they did from high-status families, imagined that they had found a mare willing to hop into their beds. Those soon found out the falsity of their suppositions, and quickly ceased to play any role at all in her social life. The others were nice enough stallions of one sort or another, but none of them understood her, grasped her goals or her methods. Some of these latter she liked well enough as Ponies, dated more than once, even permitted some liberties short of the ultimate -- but she could not imagine marrying any of them. A few of them wound up as long-term friends, for Rarity was not usually cruel to anypony who had not outright offended her.

Twice she humiliated herself in public, both times in social settings which meant very much to her. The first time this was before Canterlot High Society at the Grand Galloping Gala, though the fact that she humiliated Prince Blueblood more was an anodyne to her embarrassment. The second time it was before her own friends, and involved the sad discovery that not even a Pony much like herself -- Trenderhoof was also a smart, socially-skilled climber, one who might have made a good partner in her rise -- was necessarily compatible.

Once, she had met a fit mate -- an older Pony stallion of higher status who was attractive, brilliant, kind, and was both attracted to her as well and treated her with the utmost respect. He fully-understood her dream and had developed his own version of it before he'd ever met her. He was also very happily married. Rarity seriously considered trying to become his mistress, but was checked by her own sense of honor, his sense of honor, and the fact that she also liked his wife. Fancy Pants and Fleur-de-Lis became her friends, her mentors and her social sponsors. But Rarity remained both single and frustrated.

And, as one after another actual stallion had disappointed her in one way or another, she always wound up seeking solace in the company of her dearest friend Spike, who could not help having been born too late and as a member of the wrong species. She loved so much about him: his kindness, his intellect, his helpfulness. He listened to her concerns; he not only sympathized with her problems but was willing to aid in their solutions. Most of all, he made her feel good about herself, on the frequent occasions when she was tormented by doubt.

She came to love his looks -- those attentive slitted archosaur eyes, the quick birdlike way he turned his head, the way the light played on his lovely purple and green and yellow iridescent scales, as if he were clothed in a million tiny gemstones. That clothing was a coat of mail, proof against all but heavy Pony-portable weapons, and yet it was flexible and smooth, warm to the touch, like nothing else she had ever felt before.

She loved his voice -- it was so expressive of his emotions, carrying the essence of his own sweet soul. It had begun as the piping of a little colt, an expression of innocence. As the years had passed it was becoming deeper, firmer, imbued with his own growing maturity and determination. It meant comfort and companionship -- the sound of it wrapped and pervaded and filled her with its owner's own sweet self.

Surprisingly, she had even come to love his smell -- that which she had once perceived as a brimstone stench, combined with the threatening scent of a predator. She had come to know his scent well, over the long hours they had labored together, the days they had spent in conversation. The scent was fundamentally sulfurous, but overlain with all sorts of complex tones like nameless spices, a melange whose whiff warmed her, for it meant Spike's here. Everything's right and safe with my world.

Even when Spike was gone, she could still smell his scent -- in her rooms, on the tools he had touched, on her own hooves and body from when she petted or hugged him. His scent comforted her. The combination of their scents comforted her even more. And warmed her greatly. She had taken to adjusting her own perfumes to complement Spike's scent, and tried not to notice the odd looks she sometimes got from Lace Secret, who probably had a very good idea what she was doing.

Spike was starting to change. Though his stature had not greatly grown, his strength was growing, his voice deepening. He was fourteen years old now, and Rarity suspected that he was entering adolescence. Late, by Pony standards, but then he was a Dragon. He had much more control over the range and focus of his flame -- Twilight had told her that it was now hot enough to melt hard steel. At its maximum it could vaporize a mass of ice the size of a small hill; yet he could focus it delicately enough to light and send off a salvo of fireworks rockets. He had never really been a baby in the time she had known him; now, he was growing into what by Pony standards would have been a young stallion.

She noticed that his scent was changing, too. It was becoming deeper, more complex, tinged with something really fascinating. Something that made her feel really warm. Something that he emitted even more when she touched him.

She knew what this was. On her trips to Canterlot and Manehattan she sometimes researched Dragons -- she would have been horribly embarrassed to sound out Twilight Sparkle, or Fluttershy, or even Lace Secret, on this topic.

Dragonmusk. Which was said, in the books she'd read, to be a "mild aphrodisiac." The books didn't talk about when and why it was emitted, and she wasn't sure of all the possible reasons, but she could have told the authors one reason why Dragons emit it.

They emit it when they're sexually aroused.

The implications of that made her very glad she hadn't asked anypony she knew about this. Especially Twilight Sparkle.

Celestia, what is wrong with me? she wondered. He's not my species. He's too young. Not a baby, maybe not wholly a child, but still -- he's fourteen! He's Sweetie's age Her mouth twisted in revulsion at the monstrosity of her own nature.

I lost my virginity to Rush Rocks at thirteen, she remembered. I had my miscarriage when I was younger than Spike is now.

This excused nothing. In fact it made it worse. Spike was not Rush, would not have behaved like Rush, should not be punished for what Rush had done to her.

For far from the first time, she speculated about how she would have responded to Spike, had he been a young Pony stallion the age he was now, had she met him instead of Rush when she'd been twelve. Despite her self-condemnation for the way she was using Spike for companionship, the thought brought to her face the usual fond smile.

I'd have fallen for him, she thought. Completely. I probably would have given myself to him. He wouldn't have been as pushy as Rocks, but things would have happened. I was a randy little filly with very little common sense, though I thought myself quite sophisticated. And I might have wound up with foal, just as I did in real life.

And Spike would have stuck by me. He would have taken care of me, made sure I took it easy, ate properly, visited the doctor. He would have braved the wrath of my family, risked losing me, if he'd thought that my life or that of the foal was in any danger. As soon as it was possible, he would have married me, and taken care of our child, raised it in the warmth and safety of his love.

That's what Spike's like. That's who he is. Stallion or drake, it wouldn't have made a difference. That's who he is.

She was so very unworthy of his love. She'd first thought this when she realized his love for her was stronger than his own basic desires. As Spike grew, in both maturity and wisdom; as he learned all her secrets and kept right on loving her, she knew in her heart of hearts that -- fabulous as she was -- she was not fabulous enough to be worthy of a love that pure and strong, from a being as pure and strong as was Spike the Dragon.

Spike was a hero. She remembered the sick horror she'd felt when she'd thought he was about to die, leaping from the Crystal Palace with the Crystal Heart clutched tight in one claw, nearly being consumed by the spectral King Sombra. She was so happy that they'd built that statue to him. He deserved that respect, so very much. She knew he would get it, more and more, as other Ponies began to see the ways in which he was wonderful, something she had known since he had shown up in the cavern of the Diamond Dogs, uncaring of personal danger, concerned only with rescuing her.

When the Shadows had taken her -- when she'd been caught in her very own personal Nightmare of jealousy and hatred and loathing for everything sweet and wholesome in life -- it had been Spike who had saved her. Spike's adoration which had empowered that ruby into what amounted to a magical artifact, as if he'd discovered a new Element of Harmony. Spike who had fought his way through hordes of foes to stand by her side and drive off the Shadows with his love.

She was using him, using that bright shining soul, keeping him around her with half-promises she never meant to keep. She would break his heart when she finally did meet the socially-superior stallion who would become her business partner and sire her foals and -- the thought was disgusting her. The image of a smug, successful Rarity, happy with her match, trotting on uncaring what broken heart she left in her wake -- she could not find pride in that fantasy.

What price the adoration of the World, she thought, if one sacrifices one's self-respect to gain this trophy?

She was not a good Pony. She knew this, and this knowledge was her deepest and darkest secret, the only one she had never told Spike. Well, I've tried to tell Spike, she amended. He's just never believed me. He has faith in my fabulousness. The little fool. The dear little fool.

Dark thoughts. If she wasn't careful she would sink into one of her black depressions, the ones she'd had ever since fourteen.

She couldn't afford to do so. They might be going into danger. Fluttershy might need her. Twilight Sparkle might need her.

Spike might need her.

There, she thought. I've managed to convince myself to do exactly what I always wanted to do, by the usual twisty path. Might as well do it, while I still have myself conned.

"Spike?" she asked softly.

He had been at the other end of the room, talking to Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash, but he looked up at her utterance. His eyes lit up with happiness as she smiled at him. He trotted over to her.

"Did you want something, Rarity?" he asked her.

"Just some company," she replied. "I'm a little bit -- worried -- about what might happen. I could use a friend."

"No need to worry, Rarity!" Spike said, drawing himself up into what he thought was an impressive pose, and Rarity laughed just a little bit, both because it was such a parody of such a pose and because of the deep irony that the reality of Spike was so very much more impressive than might ever be any such pose.

Spike looked miffed for a moment but then he saw the acceptance and happiness in Rarity's eyes, and he laughed himself. "I know I'm not the biggest Dragon in the world, but I'll protect you, Rarity. Even if he scares me sometimes -- I'll still protect you. I won't let you come to harm."

And this was so obviously something beyond his power, yet she knew that he would try his best to protect her, that he would scheme or fight or even die for her, uncomplaining, and the thought that someone loved her so very much warmed her heart, made her feel safe even though she had no objective reason for such a sentiment, that she half-closed her eyes and gave him the warmest and most loving look she could. "Thank you, Spike," she said. "You really are my hero."

Rarity lifted her right foreleg just a bit, a very little bit from the floor, and Spike came eagerly forward to accept her embrace. She stroked the scales along his back, right beside the spikes where she knew he liked to be touched, and he made a happy little half-growl and sank his head against her breast, nuzzling into her marshmallow hair, his claws gently clutching her. She closed her eyes and rubbed her cheek against his, feeling the flexible warmth of his scales, smelling the sulfur and compex spices that meant Spike, all her trepidations lost in the knowledge that she was safe in Spike's embrace, that he would protect her from any wounds, and would never wound her himself.

She moved back onto the couch behind her, lay slightly on her side. This broke the embrace, and Spike looked at her questioningly. She answered him with a smile, moving to give him room at her forequarters.

Spike hopped up onto the couch and lay against her, in much the same position as before, but one which they could now both maintain comfortably for a while. She didn't know how much longer Luna was going to be with Twilight, she didn't know how much longer she would still be alive and sane, still be Rarity Belle who was fabulous and loved fashion and gems and her dear friend Spike, instead of being some lunatic who loved a boulder or a tree or suffered whatever other change Discord chose to inflict upon her this time, and she wanted to spend these possibly last moments as Rarity with Spike.

Spike, her dearest friend, her almost-lover, her soulmate, whom a mocking Fate had chosen to let her meet but make a Dragon eight years her junior. What she really wanted to do with him was monstrous and exploitative and indecent, especially considering that there was absolutely no opportunity for privacy, or at least unremarked privacy, with him within the Golden Oaks Library which was occupied by her other dear friends.

Later, if there was a later, the real world would return and then she would have to also consider her career, her life strategy, the demands of society, and the thought of stealing off somewhere with Spike would be the obvious folly that it was. But right now the only restraints upon her were her own decency and her respect for Spike. And those restraints were just enough that she was not going to seduce him, take his virginity, make him her lover in truth rather than mere fantasy.

But she'd be damned to Tartarus if she wasn't going to hold him. Especially when this might be the last time she'd ever get to do so.

So she did, ignoring any possibly-shocked looks from her friends, a feat which was made easier by the fact that her eyes were closed in bliss as she embraced Spike, holding him in her forelegs, letting him nuzzle into her neck while she slowly and gently stroked his head and back. She could smell his scent very strongly now, with the subtle but distinct tang of Dragonmusk rising now, a secret signal from him to herself telling her of his arousal, for she was the only mare in this room who knew how to read it. At the thought a warmth spread from her heart to her face and down her belly, and she wondered what secret signals she was giving to Spike, and if he yet had the knowledge to read them.

I love you, Spike, she thought but did not dare to say, not even in a whisper. Whatever happens, whomever it is wise to wed, I shall always love you.

"Spikey-wikey," she did say softly, and Spike's own clutch on her grew a bit tighter. She let him press the length of his body against her. She knew exactly what that would have meant were he a Pony, and judged the anatomy sufficiently similar, and did not care who censured her. His body was too short to reach very far down hers, in any case. She could feel his belly-scales, the slight bump of his pubic ridge. "Precious-scales."

"I will protect you," Spike vowed again.

"Shh -- I know, dear one," she whispered. "I know. My hero."

And they lay like this as the long minutes passed.

The world would return, and its cares and considerations, and then Rarity would once again have to conceal her feelings from everypony. Including herself. Though she knew the other Ponies in this room had probably seen through her long ago. Right now, however, she was wrapped up in a world which was big enough for only two.

She wanted to enjoy this world for as long as it lasted.

Chapter 18: The Children's Section

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The Glories of the Library

To my embarrassment, it was Dissy who first noticed this.

Lore Lover had suggested a few titles to his son, who led us around to a back section. We gaped in hungry awe at the shelves as we passed, the lines of shelves, the thousands upon thousands of tomes which lined them, and all the incredible wealth of knowledge this represented. The Library itself -- well, thou hast seen it, the massive structure, soaring in ways which nothing made of ordinary stone could duplicate. We had grown up around the low structures of Paradise Estate -- ones which, ironically, were even more technologically-advanced than this wonder of the world, for the lost science of the High Eldren had attained heights beyond anything of either the Age of Wonders or that which the Old Empire had built upon the base which the Age of Wonders had bequeathed them. But we did not fully-appreciate this as children: to us, the sheer scale of the Library was a revelation.

To thou, perhaps, who didst grow to marehood in that copy of the Crystal City my Sister raised on Avalon, who taketh for granted what can be done with structural steel and curtain walls, it may not have been as wonderful. To our own selves, it was amazing, as amazing as the Crystal Palace or the polyglot city of which that Palace was the center. And of course the living crystal of the Library is as far beyond the stuctural steel of Manehattan or the flying buttresses of the older parts of Canterlot as those are beyond the wattle-and-daub construction of rustic homes.

There were decorations everywhere, which thou didst not see, for many have since perished, and many others were put into basement vaults for safekeeping before Crimson sortied forth to meet Our invasion. Did he not know that We would never have permitted a sack of the Crystal City? It was a place of peace and refuge to us during our long young marehood, the millennium in which we fought ... of all the places on Earth, least would I have done harm to the Great Library! Even after he marred me ... but that is another tale, and one I am not eager to tell.

We stepped through a square-cut door illustrated by fancifully-rendered paintings of creatures, including ones not native to this place or time -- I remember seeing venomous coatl, sea serpents, elephants, and what looked suspiciously like The Moochick -- if that awesome Eldren scientist-mage had been composed entirely of primary colors and had been a whimsical character from a book for exceptionally dim little children.

The Moochick

Yes, dear Twilight, this annoys me even now, in a time when that painting has long since faded away to trace chemicals, if that much. I know this because I have visited the Great Library since the Crystal City's return, and a new painting adorns that door.

Why? Dost thou know what The Moochick was, what a benefactor to all Ponykind? He was born before the Eldren Apocalypse, the war between Avalontis and Lemaria, that annihilated most of their Kinds and caused an Age of Ice He was already well over eleven thousand centuries old when The Megan met him.

He was almost emmortal. Had he left the Earth with the rest of his race, he might still be alive today, sustained by their science, dwelling in luxury and grace on another plane, or on the world of another star. He chose to remain, because he was a biomancer and loved all Earthlife, wanted to work to repair the great harm that had been done to it in the war. He exhausted his supplies and spent his great powers in this quest.

He wanted to stay neutral, but he greatly loved the Ponies -- thy remote ancestors, Twilight, and through Mimic the ancestors of my own flesh-form. When the Time of Extermination came, he could not bear to see them perish, and he abandoned his ancient neutrality and acted in some ways overt and more ways covert to save our species. It was he who persuaded the Sun Mare to ... but I am getting ahead of my tale.

Know this, Twilight Sparkle. Had The Moochick not lived, and been who he was, it is very likely that Ponykind would now not be -- or would be only as slaves to the Viprallans. Wind Whistler knew him well, and while his great age had slowed his wits, beneath that outer layer of rust there worked a fine mind, and beat a great heart.

He was a hero, Twilight, a hero to our race and many others. It is because of him that our Earth is so rich in life and intelligence. He should be remembered as the great being he was, not reduced to just some stock character in plays and stories for small children. How would you feel, Twilight, if we were viewed that way?

Ah well. I like small children, and I am a stock character in the Nightmare Night tales. I simply mean that he was more than that, and nopony today has even spoken to anypony who remembered him as more than that, save for myself and my Sister.

And Discord, though he now probably finds the absurd way The Moochick is remembered in this post-Cataclysmic world rather amusing. But then, nowadays he has a nasty sense of humor.

The Wall-Painting

The first thing we saw when we passed through the archway was that the ceilings and shelves were both built low.

Not so low that a full-grown stallion would have had trouble passing beneath, but low enough that I saw that I could easily reach the top shelves by rearing up on my hind hooves. Which was of course the point of the design, but all I thought at first was that this arrangement was looked awfully convenient. We could see a staircase leading upward, and the ceiling above was supported on wooden beams rather than being made of the imperishable nano-crystal of the rest of the Great Library.

Dissy looked around with interest as Lore Diver led us along the rows of shelves. I had but a brief impression of extremely colorful-looking wall mosaics, paintings and posters, most of which seemed to depict foals at play in various unlikely but pleasant environments. I remember one cheerful painting of little colts and fillies gamboling amidst a low, walled villa which was made entirely of blocks inscribed with the letters of the Old Amareican alphabet -- the one the Crystal Empire still used with some modifications -- while various fancifully-dressed mares ran or flew around them in a friendly fashion. Something about the blue-coated, pink-haired pegasus mare looked very familiar to me, and Dissy stared at it for a moment as well, before he snorted.

"Wind Whistler," he said, snickering softly. "That's supposed to be Wind Whistler."

My eyes bugged out. Despite her coloration, I had not grasped her identity, probably because the unknown artist had given her an utterly-inane expression such as the brilliant scholar had neither worn in my presence, nor probably in her whole life unless she had gotten terribly drunk. Also, the artist had got her Mark dead wrong, rendering it as a suggestion of wind lines and a pair of pursed lips, rather than the five whistles -- three pink and two dark blue -- that Wind Whistler actually bore on her hips.

The clincher, of course, was the large white tail-bow. That had entered so many legends, both pre- and post-Cataclysmic, that getting that wrong would have bespoken such complete artistic incompetence that the Mark was almost a trival detail in comparison. The first one of those had been given to her by a Big Brother named Path-Finder over two millennia before the Cataclysm, and she had worn that style ever since in his memory -- though, at the time, my little-filly self had no idea why the coolly logical Wind Whistler might choose to do such an odd thing.

That realized, we quickly deciphered the identities of the other mares. There was Firefly, prancing in mid-air beside Wind Whistler in an utterly cheerful way that was actually not that different from her normal demeanor. Surprise, popping out from around a corner in a manner which made it obvious that the artist had actually known some of the stories of Paradise Estate, even granted that our steading wasn't really formed out of alphabet blocks.

"Look," I said with delight, pointing to one painted mare. "There's Mommy!" It was, indeed, Mimic, though they'd gotten her Mark as wrong as Wind Whistler's, making it a blue mask rather like Masquerade's, rather than the red and yellow and green parrot that actually adorned my mother's hindquarters. But her identity was unmistakable, for she wore the Golden Horseshoes. I felt a tremendous surge of homesickness at the sight. I wondered how Mimic was doing -- and it occurred to me, for the first time, that I might have actually hurt her by running away.

"Your mother." said Dissy sadly. He and Mimic had never gotten along. "They left off mine."

It was true. Nowhere on the painting did there seem to be a representation of Shady. Whoever had composed this painting had obviously either not heard of her, or considered her sufficiently important to warrant inclusion.

A Conversation With Lore Diver

Lore Diver had not heard our specific words, but he had noticed that we were interested in the painting.

"Do you like that, my Lady?" he asked me politely.

"'Tis ... pretty." I allowed.

"Pretty something," said Dissy, sotte voce.

"It is meant to be the Estate of Paradise, which legend says lies in the Great Forests far to the south of the Empire; south even of the lands of the Three Tribes," Lore Diver explained to me. "It is said that there live the Undying, an enchanted folk who have dwelt there since long before the Cataclysm, mystic mares who in times long before even then did welcome The Megan to our world, and with her aid struck down Tirek the Annihilator, and many other fearsome foes."

"Indeed?" asked I, remembering to sound impressed. "Are they real?"

"Most do not think so," Lore Diver said. "And I doubt that the Estate looks like this -- this is but a painting for small ... but a painting," he finished hastily, realizing from my soft features that though large for my age, I was younger than him. "I think them real, though," he said bluntly.

"Oh, do tell, most excellent Librarian, sir," Dissy purred. "Why do you think that?"

Lore Diver looked at me, and I arched an eyebrow inquisitively at him. My smile was very real: I was enjoying this game very much.

"My father ..." he began, then lowered his voice even below that usually demanded by a library's hush. "My father told me that he has had converse with one of the Undying," he said. "A scholarly Pegasus, which are two things rarely seen in one and the same Pony. She named herself 'Wind Whistler' -- as in the old legends -- and my father said that when he looked into her eyes, he could well imagine that she had lived for many centuries, for all that she seemed not past early middle age."

"Ooh," asked Dissy, pressing the point. "Noble Sir, was she very fierce? Eyes flashing fire, fetlocks drenched in the blood of her fallen foes?"

Lore Diver looked at him strangely. "No, Oddparts," he explained. "My esteemed father did not meet her in battle. She came to the Library as a scholar, and they discussed rare books. He told me she was surpassing erudite, and both polite and profound in her discourse."

I knew Lore Lover had not lied to his son, for that was Wind Whistler to the life. Now I knew who was her contact in the Crystal City. We of Paradise Estate sometimes moved in the outer world, and sometimes gave history little nudges toward the path we preferred, but we preferred not to draw attention to ourselves. Wind Whistler must have liked and trusted Lore Lover,to have spoken at length with him -- and to have given him her right name.

"A mare of legend," I said. "I would love to see her someday. Does she come here often?"

"Not often," Lore Diver said. "She communicates with the Library mainly by mail. My father has seen her face but a few times."

That was a relief, I thought. We weren't likely to run into here, then. Childishly, it did not occur to me that Wind Whistler was actively looking for us, and that the pattern of her search made it obvious that she thought us headed for the Crystal City. In mine own defense, I was in point of fact still only five at the time, even though my size and wit let me pass for a filly closer to Lore Diver's own age.

"Such a pity!" I replied brightly, and Dissy coughed.

Lore Diver regarded me narrowly, obviously just this side of accusing us of making fun of him. But he was a good colt -- while I was a bad little filly, and had corrupted Dissy to be my partner in crime. And I was a foolish little filly too, for Lore Diver was the one on whom I counted to guide me to win my faring. Lucky I was that Lore Diver was truly a good colt, who treated me better than I deserved. But that would always be his way, and this would not be the last time he was to do me kindness unearned .

He is two dozen centuries in his grave, and sometimes I still miss him. We immortals, dear Twilight, travel in company with all too many beloved ghosts. There are too few with whom we can share more but a brief fraction of our long lives.

But I digress.

The Perils of Misclassification

Despite any misgivings resulting from my teasing, Lore Diver led Dissy and myself through the Children's Library to that section of the stacks dealing with Mythology. I suppose it was fortunate that this was the library of a civilization founded by university scholars, as this Children's Library was better-organized than many bearing that designation back in the Age of Wonders.

No, my dear friend, I will not right now discuss the details of the Library's classification system. It was not, of course, what you found when you searched for the details of their culture -- Sombra had deliberately scrambled the books in the public collection, to make it useless to any searching through it for any means of resistance. He had been a librarian, and so fully grasped how this would confound his foes. I knew he had done this; Tourmaline told me later. It was one of the many reasons I wished my Sister had let me lead that mission. I could guess in advance exactly the ways Crimson would try to thwart thy quest.

That thou didst win nay-the-less proved thy own courage and brilliance, but I still think my Sister was taking a dreadful risk with thee.

Well, yes, we would have intervened hadst thou lost, but -- Twilight -- thou dost not reckon fully of what evils my fallen friend was capable. Had he made thee captive -- Twilight, he was the one who drove me onto the path of madness, and I was free to leave at any time. All that was once bright and noble in his soul was twisted to dark foulness by the Night Shadows. He never got to speak with thee ... Twilight, thou hast met the mirror-Sombra. Know that our Crimson Quartz lost none of his charisma when he fell into darkness. He could be very persuasive. He warped me. He could have warped thee as well, or at least done thy mind and soul great damage, more rapidly than thou dost realize.

He would have liked nothing better. Thou wert mine own Sister's student; thou art brilliant, beautiful and good; a master-mage, surpassing loyal, a librarian -- thou mightest as well be the Lady Tourmaline reborn, though thou art not in truth. He would have delighted in twisting thee to his service. I came so close to losing ... When I consider how unlikely it is that he is truly dead ... but we stray far from our goal, now.

Some Readings in Mythology

In the Mythology section, Lore Diver found us several books on ancient legends, and upon being assured that they were acceptable abandoned us to their perusal.

I delved into them, and grumbled at the simplistic presentations. "These are children's books," I complained, "like the ones Windy used to teach us reading."

"Oh, they're not that simple," Dissy assured me. "More like what you'd give a third- or fourth-year student in one of their ludi litterati."

"What!" I almost shouted, at the last moment remembering that I was in a library. "Does he think me a child?"

"Yes," replied Dissy. "Look around. This part of the library is obviously for children."

I did, and regarded the colorful wall paintings, and the clearly immature ages of the patrons, with the only adults present being the section librarian, and some obviously accompanying their offspring. Only then did I realize the full indignity to which I was being subjected.

"We are wasting our time!" I exclaimed. "What can we find in here? With whom does he think he is dealing?"

"Two children," Dissy answered. "Which he is. Oh," he added hastily, perhaps seeing the fire in my eyes, "he greatly underestimates our intellects. But then we are pretending to be ordinary Ponies -- well," he said, looking down at his own strangeness, and the lumps of my wings which had flared in angry passion, "as ordinary as we can pretend to be. In any case," he continued in a soothing tone, "we would do well to page through these books. There may be something useful in them. I have a good feeling about this. Besides," he grinned, "this might be fun."

I was far from entirely convinced, but Dissy had made me happier with the situation. It was hard to remain wroth with anyone or anything when Dissy smiled at me that special way. So I began reading the books.

Even then, both of us could read very rapidly. The reading levels of these books were low, and we were looking for certain key words and phrases, though we still enjoyed the tales. So it is not entirely unsuprising that exactly what we were looking for jumped right out at us from the pages. As luck would have it, 'twas I who found the crucial tale.

And this is what the story said:

"Honey Tongue, The Sun Mare and the Twister"

Long, long ago, during the Age of Creation when the Gods and Goddesses walked the Earth like Ponies, there was a very loveable and clever mare called Honey Tongue. Her voice was sweet and her words sweeter, and there were few who could listen to her without doing exactly what she wanted. She was yellow and her mane pink, and her Mark was of a tongue with honey dripping from its tip.

"Golden," said Dissy, staring at the page with fascination, his mind somewhere very far away from our reading table.

"What's golden?" I asked him.

"She should be golden-yellow-brown, like honey," my companion said. "Then her coat would be like her name. It would fit better. And she'd be more beautiful, with that long pink mane flowing out over the gold."

"Gold isn't the only pretty color," I said in irritation, looking at my own powder-blue coat. (It was lighter then than it is now, dear friend, much as it was when I was new-freed from the Nightmare). "And who wants a long pink mane?"

"Celly has a long pink mane," Dissy observed, smiling.

"Indeed," I replied crossly, as if that made the point. "We should keep reading."

So we did.

Honey Tongue could have been a very bad Pony with her Talent, but instead she was a very good Pony, so she only ever used her powers of persasion to make her own life and those of her family and friends and village better. She lived in a dangerous time, when brigands and tyrants, warlocks and witches, monsters and demons, and even evil gods, lurked around every corner, so her loved ones were very glad of her indeed. And she loved every Pony in her village.
Though there was one whom she loved more than the others.
His name was Noble Heart, and he was good and true, a warrior of high birth from whose family the village held their land. He was a strong stallion and a fearless fighter, but he was also very kind and honorable, and he never took advantage of his birth nor his riches to oppress the villagers, instead acting as their strong shield against any who would try to harm them. The villagers loved him, and he loved them, but most of all he loved Honey Tongue.

"Wow ..." I said.

"You'd like to meet somepony like Noble Heart?" Dissy asked me.

"I'd like to be somepony like Noble Heart!" I told him. And I still do. I try my best, and I like to think I sometimes succeed. A little.

Though I have, from time to time, met Ponies like Noble Heart. If I am lucky, they become my friends -- for their time on Earth, anyway.

Do I know anypony like Noble Heart? Well, some of my Guards are. And your elder brother. And Applejack's elder brother.

Though I think that last one fears me. I sometimes have that effect on Ponies. I do not know why. Which is a shame. I would he were my friend.

I do not bite, not hard, not any more. I wish more Ponies knew that.

The family of Noble Heart also liked Honey Tongue, but she had been born alone to a poor mare, and though by her own hard work and sweet words Honey Tongue had earned silver and copper to ease her mother's life, still Honey was neither wealthy nor of high birth like her beloved. So Honey and Noble were sometimes sad, for they could not wed, as Noble would not marry against the wishes of his mother. And his mother, too, was sad. For though Noble Heart could not wed Honey against his mother's wishes, neither could he bring himself to wed another, when still he loved Honey Tongue.

Thou sighest, too, dear friend? Dost thou wish thou didst know a stallion such as Noble Heart? Dost thou know one of his merits?

Oh, a blush does look so pretty through lavender. And such a blush, too! Didst blushes glow in truth, we might light the room by its radiance!

But back to the tale:

Noble Heart's mother, Noble Rose, very much wanted him to marry into a good family. She wanted to be friends with another family and she wanted grandfoals by him, who might tumble and play about her when she called her clan together for the High Festivals.

Yes, dear friend, matrilineage and matrilocality. And of the oldest sort: all these Ponies lived at least two thousand years Before The Megan; perhaps as much as four thousand years before. You may tell the fair Apple that the ways of her clan are very old ways indeed, though interrupted by the bilocality of the Time of Extermination. They were Earth Ponies, too -- both in the Crystal Empire and in the Age of Creation, that would have been assumed unless stated otherwise.

This fairy tale spoke of events from eight to ten thousand years before our present day, and five and a half to seven and a half thousand years before the time in which Dissy and I read it. Compared to the time of Honey Tongue and Noble Heart, that last autumn of Paradise Estate was one in time with today: indeed, when Paradise Estate began, the story would have spoken of times as long-ago to the Ponies of Dream Valley as Paradise Estate is to you and your band.

The world is very old, and many secrets have been dropped and lost in the long dim corridors of time. And here, Dissy and I had found one that had survived, thanks to the scholar-soldiers who had founded the Crystal City: Ponies who loved learning, and wielded pens with the same skill as they did spears. And the story survives in my memory, and is passed down to you eight thousand years and more after the events which inspired it. Such is the power of lore.

So Noble Heart's mother did a vain and prideful thing. At the Great Midsummer Festival, held once every four years, to which came all the highest Ponies in the land, she boasted of the virtues of her son, hoping to fill the hearts of her listeners with the desire for him; all while poor Noble Heart had no choice but to listen, in growing embarrassment. She did not only mention them herself, but she also hired harpists to sing songs in his praises, and poets to declaim his merits. Finally, she made a great speech before multitude, and swore on the honor of her house that all this were true, and moreover said:
"My son Noble Heart is wonderful, glorious beyond compare, more handsome and brave and good even than any in the service of the immortal Gods!"
Now she had done a foolish thing, for one should never compare oneself, nor any one does love, favorably with the Gods. For they can themselves be vain, and prideful. What is worse, they may be listening.
Indeed, no sooner had she finished speaking, than a white-maned gray Unicorn stallion, clad in a gaudy patchwork cloak, stepped forward.
"You've sold me on the merchandise!" he loudly cried, a merry look upon his face. "I'll take one!"
At these rude words the multitude murmured, and Noble Rose glared down from her podium with displeasure.
"My son is not to be bartered for like some fruit in the marketplace," she said sternly. "Who art thou, and of what lineage?" For she had never seen this Unicorn before, and misliked his looks and manners.
"As to who I am," quoth the Unicorn, still smiling, though there was a flash as of fire from his red, red eyes, "I am one of the highest lineage, a lineage older than this little ball of rock on which we stand." And he doffed the cloak. Now they could see his Mark plain, and it was like unto a tornado. And some there were who remembered certain dark tales, and drew back in fear from their memory.
But Noble Rose, in her pride and wrath, did not remember the tales. If she had, she might have known that this was One who might at times be turned from a fell purpose by fair words. So she did not speak fair words, but in stead:
"Bah! I know thee not! Depart, worthless knave! Thou shalt not have the service of my son for any price!
At this, the Unicorn scowled, and it was as if the thunder-clouds had descended on the pasture, ready to unleash a great storm.
"Price?" he asked. "Oh no, my proud little mare, you much misunderstand me." And he flexed all his muscles, and began to swell, and grow most terribly. "I said nothing about paying any price for your son." As he grew his shape began to shift, growing longer, like unto that of a great serpent or Dragon. His forelegs changed: one was like that of a great cat, another like a vulture; and so did his hind legs, one being like that of a normal Pony, but the other that of a Dragon. His head was still mostly Pony, but his horn split to become two, one of a Deer and one of a Goat. He was several times the length of a Pony, terrifyingly mismatched, truly a Monster.

At that we stopped reading, and looked at one another in a horrified mutual realization.

"Dissy ..." I said, at last. "That's you."

Chapter 19: The Twister and Honey Tongue

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"It's not me!" Dissy loudly protested, rearing up and nearly losing his cloak, his wings fluttering under the concealing garment and making it tremble in what would have been -- were he the Earth Pony he was pretending to be -- a most unnatural fashion.

There was a hoofstep behind us.

I looked around nervously, imagining that we had been found out.

It was the children's librarian, a small wiry salt-and-pepper-maned, tan-coated Crystal Pony stallion wearing a pale yellow tunic and an expression of extreme disapproval. I met him socially, years later: his name was Quiet Study. Neither a bad nor at all a frightening fellow, though he seemed scary to a five-year-old filly trying to keep a secret.

Fortunately, Quiet Study only noticed the noise. "Shhhh!" he hissed at us.

Our cover might have been blown right there, had not it been Wind Whistler's habit to hold occasional library classes, during which we were expected to engage in silent study after Wind Whistler set us our assignments. Her purpose, of course, was to teach us foals how to behave in a library -- she in fact intended to take us to the very structure in which we now sat, someday when we were a bit older.

This was fortunate, as I knew how to get us out of trouble.

"Sorry, sir," I whispered to the librarian, giving him an apologetic smile and big sad eyes.

Quiet Study strove to retain his stern glare, but I could see the shadows of a smile starting in his mouth, his ears twitching, his eyes softening. He was outmatched: When young, I was an adorable creature, though sometimes a rather bad little filly. Even adults who knew me well often yielded to my charms, let alone ones who were unaware of my wiles. Faced with my cuteness, the librarian had little chance.

As for my Sister, most of the time she didn't even need to smile, though she did that too. She often had Wind Whistler twisted around her forehoof. Talents sometimes manifest early, and an affinity for the Sun is hardly the only one she possesses. Ponies did, do, and always will love her. Had Celly been here, Quiet Study might have wound up approving of us breaking into a full choral song.

Dissy remembered the role he was playing and subsided.

"This is a library," Quiet Study pointed out, striving to maintain the semblance of his professional dignity, though his expression was no longer entirely professional.

"It won't happen again," I said, nodding in agreement.

Obviously placated, the librarian retreated.

"It's not me," Dissy repeated, insistently but more quietly this time. "If this really happened it was thousands and thousands of years before we were ever born. And ... he's all mean and scary. He's a Monster. I'm no Monster!"

His eyes met mine pleadingly, as if requiring reassurance: those red, red eyes which had always gazed upon me with the kindest regard, that strange scruffy gray face which was to me so familiar, which I recognized as the embodiment of comradeship. He was my very best friend, the being I loved most in the world after my mother and sister, and when I looked at him, I could not -- then -- see any Monstrousness.

I hugged that dear head, and he warmly returned my embrace.

"Thou art right," I said, after we released one another.

The fear subsided in his face -- I realize now that he was afraid of losing even a little of my friendship. Poor, dear Dissy!

"It cannot have been thee." At that age, of course, I knew nothing of the strange cycles of rebirth to which beings such as Discord and I engage in order to exist in the Pony world. "But," I pointed out, "maybe it was somepony like unto thee."

"Another of my Kind?" Dissy asked.

"Why not?" I asked. "There is another Alicorn, like unto me. We are possible. Why not other Ponies such as thee?" At this time, remember, I thought of Discord as at his base just a very strange Pony, of a Kind almost as rare as I thought were Alicorns -- I had heard the term 'Draconequus' occasionally applied, by Wind Whistler, but he did not seem as alien to me as did even our Spike -- so to me he was Pony. And back then, Dissy also thought of himself as Pony.

Dissy's expression shifted to one of excitement. "There could be more like me? That would be wonderful!" he hissed in a stage whisper so loud that for a moment I feared the librarian might return.

I made hushing motions with my hooves. "Yes," I said softly. "Maybe somepony like unto thee is born very very rarely. Maybe 'tis always to a mare without a stallion, just like with Celly and me. It sounds strange," (even in our youth, we all knew in general where foals came from, though neither Wind Whistler nor our mothers had yet gotten to explaining the precise details), "but then we are rather strange so maybe where we come from, we are normal!"

I was right, of course, but I did not yet guess just how strange was the place where we came from.

"Maybe there'll be another clue in the book," Dissy said eagerly. "Let's keep reading it!"

So we did.

The Twister towered, tall and terrible, almost to the roof of the feasting-hall, and all around him the Pony lords and ladies, kings and queens, quailed in fright before this dreadful apparition. A few brave warriors gripped their spears, essaying a rush at him. The Twister simply laughed and snapped with his vulture claw. The spears of the guards instantly transformed into gaily-colored and be-tasseled snakes, which coiled about their limbs, and kissed them repeatedly in most embarrassing fashions.

Dissy snickered at that. I giggled a little too, though neither of us really knew what was there being implied, any more than would the children for which this version of the tale had been penned.

Noble Rose trembled, but she was a true chieftain born, and this was her most-prized son in danger. She could not abandon all hope. So, she leaned forward, and nodded her head in a gesture of respect to the Prince of Chaos who reared up before her, and she said:
"O Great Twister, I beg forgiveness for angering you with my ill-chosen words. But Noble Heart is my beloved son, and he is young and may one day be a lord of much renown. Please, Great One, do not make him suffer for my error. Spare him: if you must win a servant from this adventure, take me in his stead; for I am old and have already seen much of life, of this world." Her voice quavered at first, but at the last her voice rang firm and clear, for while Noble Rose was arrogant, she was also in full measure brave, and she would have given her life ten times over to save that of her firstborn son.
The Twister arched an eyebrow at this, for it was certainly a dramatic thing for her to do, and he loved drama; it was the spice of his existence, one of the three things that had led him to come down from the stars and fare forth upon the Earth. But he knew that drama demanded that he not yield to the first plea, for such compliance would be anti-climactic upon his part. So he laughed:
"Oh ho ho, he said, "A Noble Rose in place of a Noble Heart?" He affected to consider the proposition, slithering toward Rose thrugh the air in a manner most disconcerting. "An intriguing offer, my dear." He coiled himself all around her without touching her, regarding her with a speculative eye -- one unattached to his face at that moment, and circling around her head, the better to observe her from all angles. Then, with his nostrils -- still attached to his face in the usual manner -- he sniffed at her.
"Oh no," he decided. "Too stale." He inspected some strange runes that had mysteriously appeared on her forehead. "Past the sell-by date. Won't do."
Noble Rose did not entirely understand his words, but she darkened, suspecting perhaps rightly that they were meant as insult. Her honor alone might have led her to challenge even one such as the Twister, but she had the welfare of her son to consider, and remained silent.
Noble Heart did not. He could not just stand there and see his mother be spoken of as if she were nothing.
"Enough, Twister," he said bluntly. "You want me. You will take me. Then do so!" he urged. "Only shame not my mother, for everything about me that makes you wish for my service comes from her high breeding and wise teachings. You are a being of great wisdom and power. Surely petty mockery of a poor distressed mare, at the moment of her loss, is beneath your high nature!"
"Oh, you would be surprised," muttered the Twister, but then he smiled benignly upon Noble Heart, for the Twister loved courage well, when coupled with flattery. He reached out with his tail and wrapped it around Noble Heart, who bore this touch unflinchingly. "Come, my lad," the Twister said, almost kindly. "You are a brave and handsome creature, and when you have known the delights of my court, you shall no more desire the company of your boring former friends." He leered at Noble Heart, in a manner which might have been meant as friendly, but which caused the stallion to shudder in uncontrollable revulsion.
"No!" gasped Noble Rose, also seeing and misliking that look. "Please, Twister! Have what is left of my life! Do not spoil that of my son!"
The Twister scowled at that, for he full well knew what Noble Rose was thinking -- that he was a Monster, and would do some foul harm to Noble Heart. Whether or not the Twister would have done such foul harm -- either in his original purpose or out of anger at the accusation, or even both -- will remain forever unknown.

"I don't think he would have hurt him," said Dissy. "I think he was just playing."

"I do not know," I said. "He seems creepy."

"He's probably just lonely," Dissy said. "That's why he gets mad."

Was Dissy right? Was I? It is quite true that Dissy would never have harmed anypony, least of all in the foul way that any adult reading the story would have feared. But Discord ... ah, he is quite another sort of creature.

For at that moment stepped forth Honey Tongue, quick of wit and tongue, and both brave and warm of heart. And what she said, would forever change all their destinies.
"Mighty Twister," she said, bowing low and with the greatest respect, "you are both cunning and powerful beyond all mortal compare. We poor Ponies can do naught but submit to your merest whims, for you are a Being of an altogether higher order then our own." And she looked up shyly at him, her lambent purple eyes half-lidded by her long lovely lashes, delicate yellow face framed in her flowing pink mane.
And that look struck the Twister to the heart, as might have no other weapon wielded by Ponykind. For though in his true form he was beyond mortal ken, he had taken a form of flesh to dwell in the mortal world. And that form was male. And no male that Honey Tongue looked to or spoke to like that was ever entirely unaffected.

Dissy closed his eyes and sighed, clearly enraptured by the tale.

Noble Rose sighed almost in relief when she saw what she thought Honey Tongue was about. For though Noble Rose was, as the Twister had pointed out, a bit past her prime, it had been not so long ago that Noble Rose had been herself a pretty maiden like Honey Tongue, and Noble Rose full well grasped the nature of the weapon that Honey Tongue had deployed, the weapon which makes it the way of Nature for mares to rule stallions in all important matters. She had resented Honey Tongue's power in that respect when Honey Tongue had ensnared her son, but now she was grateful to see it deployed in his defense. At that moment, Noble Rose almost loved Honey Tongue.
Almost -- for Noble Rose thought she knew what Honey Tongue meant to do. She thought that Honey Tongue would offer herself to the Twister in Noble Heart's place, for Honey Tongue's own great love for Noble Heart. And Noble Rose would be happy with this outcome, for she would have her son, free and clear to make a match of advantage with the family of another chieftainess, while Honey Tongue -- would fare as well as she might as the Twister's thrall.
But Honey Tongue had already thought of and rejected this idea, not because she did not sufficiently love Noble Heart, but rather because she judged that it would be too simple to amuse the demon -- instead, he would happily take both of them. Instead, she had a subtler and a better plan.
"Indeed," continued Honey Tongue, "you are so great that to one of your power it would be but child's play to take Noble Heart, and punish Noble Rose for her ill manners. And by doing so, you would demonstrate to all the Ponies assembled here the folly of rousing the wrath of the greatest God of Chaos known to this Earth!"
Noble Heart's ears pricked up at this, and her eyes widened, and she glared at Honey Tongue, wondering if the young mare had perhaps decided to betray her. But she could say naught against Honey Tongue, not in front of the Twister who was plainly quite taken with her, especially after the last bit of flattery.
"Simple and easy for you to do," said Honey Tongue. "But -- I must wonder -- is something so simple and easy for you to do quite worthy of a being of your magnificence, O most-mangificent and puissant Twister?
The Twister arched an eyebrow at this, creating an actual colonnade about his head, at which apparition the Ponies gaped in wonder, for he used keystone arches, a principle not yet known to their primitive civilization. And he smiled with a certain cynical disappointment, for he thought he knew where Honey Tongue was going with this, and if so it was a pathetically-simple ploy, one insulting to his own vast intelligence.
But Honey Tongue had been more than courteous, and so the Twister was himself nothing but polite in his reply.
"Simple indeed, my dear," the Twister said. "Yet effective. What would you have me do? Show mercy to this arrogant little ladyling, and thus show to one and all that I tolerate such disrespect from mere mortals such as Noble Rose -- and yourself?" He smiled at this last, and his smile was predatory, and revealed entirely too many teeth to make the Ponies altogether comfortable with his presence.
And it was a sad smile in part, for he was almost sure he knew what Honey Tongue was going to say. She would claim to him that mercy was greater than revenge, a transparently self-interested argument, and then he would take both Honey Tongue and her plainly-beloved Noble Heart to his Courts of Chaos, where they would in fairly short order go mad, and become boring.
He sighed to himself at this, for Honey Tongue had seemed so promising -- a worthy play-mate, with whom he might have had an enjoying game of trickery. But alas! -- she would be just one more pleading maiden, to use and destroy like all the others.
There was One -- and only One -- with whom he had once joyed to play, for she was full his match in power and intellect. But she would play with him no more, and he must find whatever sport he might from lesser beings, such as the Ponies.
Then, Honey Tongue spoke, and what she said surprised him:
"I wonder if you are very bored sometimes, great Twister? Your power is immeasurable, almost unlimited. You can do whatsoever you wish, and none may oppose you. Taking Noble Heart would be just another thing you can do, which no mere mortals could hope to check by force.
"I wonder, O Twister, if you might instead like to make the fate of Noble Heart the stakes of a game?"
And with that the winds began to blow harder outside, the cedars to sway, the skies to darken. It was no magic of Honey Tongue's, for hers was a magic of voice and beauty and cunning, and unable to call the weather; nor was it the Twister's, though of course calling weather was the least of what he could do.
Rather it was the magic of Fate, as if the Universe were stopping to take notice, and Cosmic forces focusing on the simple meeting hall of simple Ponies in the time of their dawn. For that is exactly what was happening.
The Twister's eyes widened with interest, and he smiled at Honey Tongue, and his smile was almost friendly as he regarded the little Pony, so helpless before his demonic might. And he spoke.
"Do, my dear, go on."
"All things in the world are different in their abilities. The wolf has swift legs and strong jaws, yet he cannot run down the antelope in full flight. Yet the turtle, which but slowly creeps, can endure the wolf's jaws, which the antelope cannot. And the bird sings sweeter than the turtle's hiss, the antelope's cry, or the wolf's howl," Honey Tongue began.
The Twister leaned forward and listened intently, curious as to what she would say next.
"I am but a poor weak little mortal creature," she continued, "nothing compared to your Cosmic powers. Yet perhaps there is something which I can do for you, something which you either cannot do or do not wish to do because it would affront your honor? Perhaps you might set me such a task? You, O great Twister, might keep Noble Heart while you awaited the completion of this task, but keep him in a manner such that he will be unharmed and remain well in all respects, until we see if I can perform this task. And then -- if I can do this thing -- you might in your vast mercy release Noble Heart to the loving embrace of his family and loved ones, and you and I part as friends, in the knowledge that we will have both made a great story to redound to your own further glory. Certainly, I will do my best to ensure that the tale be remembered and retold.
"Does this proposal meet with your approval, O Lord of Chaos, Ruler of the Abysses Both Below and Above? Will you make this wager, and play this game, with a mere mortal Pony?" She looked him directly in his red-and-yellow eyes, fully meeting his gaze for a moment, then flung herself to the floor, hiding her head beneath her hooves and shuddering in a terror both flattering to the Twister, and far from entirely assumed. For she knew that she had left open some very crucial matters, trusting to the Twister's own greed and vanity in this thing.
And besides, there are few -- if any -- Ponies who can look the Twister in the eye unaffected. Honey Tongue was brave, to be sure. But even bravery has limits.
The Twister screwed up his face, which also amazed the onlookers for they had not yet invented screws. And he looked at Honey Tongue and her proposal from all angles, an action which dizzied them, for they were not used to seeing any being, let alone a Draconeques, from all angles simultaneously.
And the gale howled, and leaves tore from the cedar trees, and the window hangings whipped madly in the wind, as the Universe paid heed to the Twister's words.
"Very well," he said. "You shall play my game. And -- because I like you -- it shall be such a task as you may possibly accomplish whole and sane, if you be both lucky and clever. Listen and listen well:"
Outside, the lightning flashed brilliant white. The crash of thunder came hard on its heels.
"On the Mountains of the Sun, the Sun Mare dwells. Let her plead to me for Noble Heart's return. When this happens, I will consider returning Noble Heart to you, whole and sane." His eyes flared dangerously. "Fail to do this, and I will keep both Noble Heart and yourself as my guests, and I cannot promise that either of your minds will long survive my hospitality. You have ... oh, forever ... to do this, though I doubt that you'll be able to quest very well in a century or so, so I'd get started if I were you, if you want to finish your quest in this lifetime."
The Twister smiled at Honey Tongue, and once again the smile seemed genuine. "Good luck, my dear."
The lightning flashed again, and all were blinded, and the crash seemed like the Hammer of Doom descending upon the Earth, and when any could see or hear once more, the Twister was gone.
And so, of course, was Noble Heart.
The Twister had taken him.

Divine Jealousy and The Voice of Reason

by Jordan179

Chapter 1: An Unwelcome Discovery

Chapter 2: An Unpleasant Prospect

Chapter 3: A Shocking Revelation

Chapter 4: The Original Occupant

Chapter 5: Twilight's Council

Chapter 6: The Voice of Reason

Chapter 7: The Moon Princess

Chapter 8: Some Unusual Places

Chapter 9: The World Before Discord

Chapter 10: The Least Noticeable Pie Sister

Chapter 11: Dissy's Youth Remembered

Chapter 12: The Creatures From Beyond

Chapter 13: Rainbow's Boast and Fluttershy's Plan

Chapter 14: A Bad Little Filly

Chapter 15: Applejack's Regret

Chapter 16: A Trip To The Library

Chapter 17: Rarity's Reverie

Chapter 18: The Children's Section

Chapter 19: The Twister and Honey Tongue