What happens when something crafted by a creature with no real care for material things is taken from him? Nopony else knew the answer either. But they found out. Oh... They found out.
What happens when something crafted by a creature with no real care for material things is taken from him? Nopony else knew the answer either. But they found out. Oh... They found out.
Rated 'Everyone' because EVERYONE needs a good knock in the teeth!
Enjoy!
Featured on Equestria Daily April 2, 2015! *face melts*
It happened all the time. Whenever a new age of peace reigned over Equestria—after tribulations that tired the soul, bended the mind, scraped the hooves, and ached the body—a new threat rose like a diseased phoenix.
The matrons of Night and Day knew this almost too well. Perhaps that’s why they usually acknowledged a massive threat with expertly contained fear. Or perhaps the living, breathing Elements of Harmony, ready and willing to tackle any threat, eased their fears.
That was usually the case.
Rarely did Princess Luna fall out of bed, screaming in a sopping cold sweat, scramble to her blanket-tangled hooves, hit every inanimate object between her bed and the door, and stampede through Canterlot Castle screaming her sister’s name.
More rare, were the chocolate-striped corridors, marble floors turned to styrofoam, and empty suits of armor playing dodge ball in the courtyard.
Rarer still was Princess Luna drop-kicking Celestia’s bed chamber doors to pieces.
“Sister! Visions! Terrible, terrible visions! We must—”
Luna's rambling died like a squirrel in a feline’s jaw when a scowling Celestia emerged from a pile of mahogany splinters. Anything else Luna was about to say was forgotten in the wake of shattered mirrors, gaping holes in the walls and ceiling, a bed split in two, and the fifteen-hundred year-old self-portrait that Celestia had sat through—with the same plastic smile—for seven hours… tilted.
Whatever doubts Luna had before—that maybe she was just overreacting—were swiftly cut.
“Good morning Luna,” came Celestia’s automatic greeting, her scowl held strong.
Luna could only gibber.
“Oh, this?” Celestia said with an eye-twitch that could split a mountain in two. “Never you mind. I’ve just been having… quite a morning.” She rose from the splinters, and Luna’s eyes nearly fell out. “What brings you here today?”
“Where is your tail, Celestia?” Luna found enough sense to ask.
Another eye-twitch.
“Well, I can tell you where it’s been…” Celestia replied, gesturing to her destroyed bedroom.
Luna grunted with a frown. “Nevermind that! I had a vision, my sister! Such chaos! Destruction beyond imagination! Earth shattering to a gargantuan jigsaw puzzle! Skies torn asunder! It’s awful, just awful!”
Celestia was only half-listening. Her lidded eyes swept the marred room as Luna ranted. Then she found her tail. Floating before the wall right beside Luna. Waving at her. Taunting her. Laughing at how many times she’d failed to catch it.
Another eye-twitch.
“—and guards! Yes, I will summon our best, and we will prepare for the worst! Sister we must call the Elements of Harmony to arms and—” Luna raised a brow at Celestia’s focused, narrowed eyes. Then turned left and saw a wavy floating tail.
“Be still, Luna,” Celestia grumbled, prone like a tiger in the grass. “It responds to sudden movement…”
“What does that even mean?!”
“Shhhh…”
Luna could only stand a few seconds of staring at her sister’s predatory antics; stalking toward the aurora-colored tail. The dark mare huffed. “Why don’t you just—oh, I don’t know—use your magic?”
Celestia stalked closer to the wavy tail. “Tried. Can’t. Hurts too much, “she whispered.
The symptoms of a splitting migraine weren’t, in any way, Luna’s best friends, but damn it all if they weren’t well-acquainted.
“Ugh! This is ridiculous! Whatever’s going on, it’s clearly jumbled your mi—”
Celestia darted at the tail… and fell unconscious with a bleeding nose, masonry sprinkling her back, a new crack in her wall, and her tail swimming in the air like a drunken eel. Luna clamped her hanging jaw shut.
With her horn aglow, the tail stopped in place, floated onto Celestia’s backside, and screwed back in place like a wine-bottle cork. Frowning flatly, Luna levitated her snoring sister onto her back and left the destroyed room in silence.
“Visions, you say?” Celestia asked, adjusting the ice pack on her head.
Luna paced before the throne, her normally careful steps now frantic and heavy. “Yes. Unexplainable destruction at every corner. Skies crying with lightning and tornadoes. Our lush world eating itself. Ponies with lifted arms, crying for mercy and forgiveness. I saw naught but madness, my sister.”
Celestia closed her eyes. “Disturbing… What else could you make of it? A cause? A source?”
Luna spun around to face the taller alicorn. “No! Nothing! And that is why we must prepare for the worst!” She began pacing again. “We must inform Cadance, Twilight Sparkle, everyone!”
Celestia stifled a hiss at her sister’s pitched voice, pressing the ice pack harder against her head.
“Be calm, Luna—”
“Calm?! After what I saw this morning?! Heavens, Celestia, you were chasing your own tail! Have you no inkling how wrong that sounds?!”
The memory of every shout and curse—some of which were thrown at the guards who merely checked on her—didn’t help the ice pack do its job. Celestia winced.
“Exactly!” Luna continued. “About as wrong as it looked!”
“Settle down and think, Luna,” Celestia said as calmly as able. “Look around you. What do you see?”
Indeed, Luna looked around, and indeed she saw the same chocolate-striped ceiling and styrofoam floors. An open ear confirmed the clanks of old armor still doing things empty armor couldn’t do in the courtyard.
“I’m seeing the same nonsense from a thousand years ago, the same nonsense Discord plays to this very day. But what does—”
“Exactly,” Celestia said. “Clearly, this is just another one of his pranks. Which would also explain why I couldn’t use my magic, and you could.”
Luna stepped up to the throne and sat beside her sister. “But… the visions—”
“Remember when he made you think you carried his child?”
Luna pressed a hoof to her lips and swallowed chunks. “That… that was my fault. He warned me about invading his dreams, and in my infinite wisdom—”
“The point is,” Celestia intervened with a raised hoof, “between every piece of broken wood in my room, and you suddenly ranting about an Equestrian holocaust—when just the other week, Discord lost a prank war to the Element of Laughter—you can’t say you don’t suspect him.”
Luna looked away with a bitten lip. “Oh, sister, I want to believe that. I do, but those visions haunt me so. I felt it. All of it. The ripping winds, the booming thunder, the earth crumbling beneath my hooves. Such… chaos. If my visions were not just a figment, I pray Discord is not to blame.”
Celestia considered the other mare for a long moment, and shortly forgot her splitting migraine. Shortly.
If there was one thing Celestia could never afford to forget, it was Discord’s static effect on the world. The ludicrous decorations that littered the castle now, were nothing different from before. When Discord was in a happy mood, it was always like that. Fun for him, annoying for others.
But no one in Celestia’s lifetime, not even herself, had seen Discord angry. Ever.
Losing a prank war could've potentially made a spirited trickster upset. Or if one took something that belonged to him—heaven help the poor sod who would've done that. With a creature prone to selfishness and greed, Celestia suspected the ramifications.
“We… should speak with Discord later this evening. For now, sister,” Celestia lowered her ice pack and managed her best smile, “you need sleep, and I need three more bottles of aspirin.”
The throne doors burst off their hinges.
The alicorns flinched as the flipping wood crashed into the amethyst throne and exploded into a gaggle of kittens. They looked ahead into the shrouded entrance, gasping at two glowing red dots.
From the darkness emerged Discord.
An unsmiling, unentertained, frowning Discord.
His steps lacked any and every kind of squeak, knock, or quack as he marched toward them. His steps were natural. Scaly flesh and cloven hoof slapping firm on the styrofoam floor. His shoulders bobbed with every step. His mismatched hands balled into tight fists.
The worst thing—never mind him walking in the first place? He was silent.
No jeers. No snickers. No mockery whatsoever.
Celestia closed her jaw and greeted the draconequus with a visibly forced smile. “Good morning Discord. You seem troubled.”
Discord didn’t answer, and Celestia started petting a kitten on her lap out of sheer nervousness. He reached the first stair, and didn’t stop. The moment Luna shrunk away, a deeply buried instinct churned inside and set Celestia’s horn aglow. She frowned, but didn’t move. Waiting.
In a fluid motion, Discord slithered around Celestia’s throne, then onto her lap, his legs dangling off the armrest.
His fuzzy lion paw found the confused alicorn’s cheek, and his now-half-lidded eyes found hers. He inhaled sharply through his nose.
“Hey,” Discord greeted flatly.
“Hi?” Celestia replied uncertainly.
He turned to a now-frowning Luna and nodded. The dark mare nodded back. He turned back to Celestia.
“So… remember that little assignment you had for me several months ago? You know, the one where I wrote—in any way I chose—all that I learned about friendship?” he asked.
Celestia adopted a passive face, ignoring the two kittens climbing onto her long mane.
“You mean the book you’ve been writing to represent such lessons?” Celestia asked.
“Mm-hm. The same book I’ve spent tireless nights writing for every one of those months?”
“Yes, yes, of course,” she answered, her horn losing its glow. “How is that coming al—”
“It’s gone Celestia,” came Discord’s casual interruption. “It’s gone, and if I haven’t made it painfully obvious, I’m a little pissed right now.”
Celestia started to sweat, but hoped her white coat would've hid it well enough. She knew it wouldn’t, of course. It never did.
“Gone? Where do you think you could have—”
“Same place I always leave it,” Discord casually intervened again, taking a mewing kitten in his paw. “The Canterlot archive.” He tossed the kitten onto a blinking Luna’s muzzle.
“Okay? What is it you wish from us?” Celestia asked cautiously.
“Well…” That worried Celestia. A lot. Usually, when Discord paused like that, a telling smile stretched his face, foreshadowing a bogus riddle, or a long-winded explanation. Usually both. He didn’t smile that time. “Remember that Ballroom Party we had last week?”
She smiled at the memory. The first—and probably final—time Discord was on his best behavior, and some infinite cosmic saint let Celestia live long enough to see it. Then there was the prank-war... of course.
“One of the finest we’ve hosted, I must say,” Celestia said, feeling strangely comfortable with the spirit on her lap.
Discord’s passive look crumble back into a frown. “The Archive was crowded that day. My book was there before the party. The party’s been over for a week. I haven’t written in a week… Must I go on?”
Celestia’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what you’re implying, Discord. The tome was your responsibility. Why would my sister or I—”
Finally, Discord gave a smile. “Oh, unbunch your thong, princess, I don’t blame either of you.”
Celestia blinked. “I… Unbunch my wha—”
“I’m merely here to… give a heads up.” The spirit’s smile vanished. “So there are no surprises.”
For her dignity’s sake, Celestia said nothing else. Luna, now blanketed by the litter of sleeping kittens, eyed Discord with caution.
“I’m going to find the poor sod who took my book. And, no matter who it is, I’m going to punch them in the face.”
Celestia gave a worried frown and said, “That’s… quite the lofty goal, Discord. Many ponies attended the festivity; ponies from Trottingham, Maretonia, even the Crystal Empire.”
Discord hopped off the mare’s lap and sauntered from the throne. Luna whipped her wide eyes to her sister, flinging a pair of kittens off her head.
“Then I’ve got my work cut out for me,” Discord said without a shade of mirth.
Celestia realized her mistake and shot to her hooves. “W-wait! It’s just a book, Discord. Surely you can start again, or complete your assignment some other way.”
“She’s right,” Luna chimed in. “Besides, haven’t you tried—oh I don’t know—snapping your fingers to get it back?”
The sisters blinked. They didn’t know when Discord had stopped walking or started shaking. They did know, however, that they may have said something unutterably wrong.
“I’ve lived a very long time, ladies,” Discord said, his casual tone starting to scare them both. “I’ve never cared for material things because, well… I can make them with a thought.” He stopped shaking, but didn’t turn to them. “In all those many eons, I’ve never made anything with my bare hands. Never poured hours of thought into the craft. Never destroyed something countless times just to rebuild it for the perfection I could only achieve once.”
Both alicorns searched for words but failed miserably to find them.
“And no, Luna, I can’t just ‘snap my fingers to get it back’. To do that, I need to know its location.” They heard his teeth grind together. "I don’t.” He started walking again. “But I will soon enough. And the thief… will pay.”
Celestia’s eardrums caved at those final booming words and darted after the retreating spirit. She stopped directly before him and felt her stomach turn inside out.
“Discord, that is not what we taught you, and you know it!” Celestia said with courage granted from centuries of battle and royal peace conferences. “Revenge is not the way. Let us help you find your book.”
Discord never stopped walking. He progressed right through her as if she were liquid, and left the mare to shudder with rolled eyes.
“If I can do it myself, why would I need you?” Discord asked.
Luna stared from the throne with a slacked jaw.
“That’s all I wished to say, my dears. Ciao.”
With a flash, Discord was gone. And with him, so was all hope, and all doubt in Luna’s visions.
“Sister…” the moon princess called, “what do we do?”
Celestia skulked back to her throne with thoughtful eyes. She sat back down, ignoring the mewing kittens leaping to Luna for safety.
“We must warn Princess Cadance and the delegates from Trottingham and Maretonia. The last thing we need is Discord inciting a civil war,“ Celestia said.
“Very well,” Luna said, staring sadly at a kitten lying on its back, its arms gently swiping at nothing and staring up at Luna’s eyes. The alicorn smiled. “I’m keeping the kittens.”
A mighty sneeze bounced along the columned walls and chocolate-striped ceiling. Celestia sniffled with a tired scowl and red eyes.
“Like Hell you are.”
And this creature, this insufferably gentle creature, thought she could tame me. Me. If I’d known at the time, that this mare, this soft, inexperienced, unspoiled pony would snare me the way she had, I’d have offed myself eons ago.
But because of that same creature, because of those gentle eyes that took as much as they gave, because of that voice that sang without singing, I’d felt the warmth of friendship for the first time.
Me, the perfect nomad, uncaring and free, uninhibited by petty attachments, couldn’t start the day without seeing her. Without hearing her.
And I hated it…
~
She couldn’t stop.
No matter how loudly her brain shouted and cursed for her to do so, Twilight Sparkle just couldn't stop reading it.
She’d tried of course. From the very first paragraph, she knew who wrote it. More than once, she'd slammed it face-first onto her desk and walked away. Of course, pacing around it, picking it up, and reading it every ten minutes didn’t help.
“Pitiful,” she heard Spike mutter behind her. “Just pitiful.”
Twilight lifted her sore cheeks off her hooves and rubbed her dry eyes. “Oh, hush, Spike. I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again: I can stop anytime I want,” she said.
“Well, I didn’t believe you the last thirty times, so that's fair,” Spike jeered.
With a huff, Twilight bookmarked her spot and rose from her chair. She winced at the deep crackles in her back.
“It’s not even that good,” Twilight defended.
“Says the pony who hadn’t slept in five days,” Spike countered with a smirk.
“Ugh! Spike!”
The little dragon waved his hands. “Alright, alright. I’m just worried about you, Twi,” he said. “What’s so special about that book anyway? Heck, you’ve plowed through five-hundred pages in a day. A day, Twilight.”
Twilight gave Spike the Ponies' Eyebrow. “Really? Have you seen this thing?” She pressed her hoof on the book. “Seven inches thick, Spike. Not a one-day task.”
Spike crossed his arms and said, “And I guess it’s a coincidence you’ve reread the first hundred-twenty-five chapters before you even finished?”
“But I have to figure this out!” Twilight blurted out. “I… I have to know how he did it! How could Discord—Discord—write something so profound, so deep about friendship when it says right here…” Twilight reopened the massive tome, her magic flipping through hundreds of pages.
~
Death could not take me. Fate could not hold me. Time could not age me, and Life could not sway me. I was invincible, a child of Creation itself. The forces of the universe were my toys and I did as I pleased. I’d created and destroyed entire worlds with only a thought. I‘d combed my hands into the cosmos, the very stars naught but sand between my fingers.
I was a god. I’d no need for another. No need for friendship.
I was a fool.
~
Spike’s eyes lidded as Twilight began mumbling, her eyes sweeping across lines of ink. When he cleared his throat, the alicorn yelped, slammed the book shut, and wiped the drool from her lips.
“I can stop anytime I want!” she declared.
“I think you have a problem, Twi,” the dragon said.
Twilight burrowed a hoof at her temple and growled. “Fine! You know what? I don’t need this. I don’t need to figure this out. Who cares if this is the only piece of existing literature with the blueprints to Discord’s thought process. Who cares what ancient, forgotten history of the cosmos is grafted in every page?” She twitched.
“Who cares if I could single-hoofedly find answers to questions that confounded pony-kind for thousands of years?!” She grinned “Who cares that the very knowledge of the universe, and proof that Friendship can reshape it, is mine?! All mine!”
Spike kept his lidded stare as Twilight cackled with her head and arms lain on the book. She stopped, shot up straight, and turned away from it.
“Well, I certainly don’t care,” she said.
“Glad to hear it.”
Spike marched silently to the book, and wide, trembling eyes followed him.
“Spike, what are you doing?”
He stopped at the desk and reached up. “Removing your bookmark.”
A thick blanket of magic hurled the screaming reptile into a wall.
“I BROUGHT YOU INTO THIS WORLD, AND I CAN TAKE YOU OUT!” Twilight shoved a hoof in her mouth.
“Hah! Knew it!” Spike declared, lifting to his feet and dusting off. “You’re obsessed, Twilight, and you need a break!”
Twilight promptly threw her face against the book’s cover and screamed, then lifted her shouts to the ceiling. “But it’s not fair! I have to know how he did it! I have to know how it ends!”
Spike crossed his arms again. “Twilight. It’s a biography. About friendship. That you and our friends helped to forge. You were there,” he said.
Twilight frowned at the book. “I know, but—”
“Where’d you even get that book, anyway,” Spike asked with half a shrug.
“The Canterlot Archive, remember? We had that Ballroom Party at the castle and—”
“—and you spent it in the castle library.” Spike pinched his nose. “Let nopony ever say you’re out of character, Twilight.” The alicorn blushed as he continued. “Honestly, I’m surprised Discord hasn’t dropped by to bother you about this thing. No doubt he read your note.”
Twilight lifted her eyes straight ahead and that blush immediately faded. Soon, her face turned white, and Spike barely caught it.
“You, uh… did leave a note in the Archive’s check-out box. Right?”
She choked on air and stared back down at the massive tome. Spike sucked his teeth and smirked.
“Stealing books now Twilight? How the mighty have fa—”
He vanished in a yowling streak of purple and pink, tumbled across the shiny castle floor, and stared up at pleading, desperate eyes, his shoulders nearly crushed to the floor by shaky hooves.
“You can’t tell anypony!” Twilight cried.
Spike’s eyes lidded again. This is gonna be a thing, isn't it?”
“Spike, listen!” she demanded, pressing her nose to his. “If anypony finds out this book is missing, not only will it tarnish my beautiful record, but somehow—I just know it—Discord will get wind of it!”
Spike’s lidded stare remained. “And this is bad, becaaaauuuuse—”
“He’ll take it, Spike!” Twilight shouted. “He'll take it, and I’ll never get to finish! I’ll never see the profound, soul-salvaging knowledge written at the end! I’ll never see what Discord thinks of me—US! I-I meant… us…”
Spike smirked, and a crushing blanket of silence clotted the air.
“So,” he began with a deliberate pause, “you say you really don’t want ponies to know, huh…?”
The magnitude of Twilight’s mistake knocked her off of Spike and onto her haunches, her jaw slacked. “Oh no… You are not gonna be ‘that guy’ right now.”
Spike sat up, his lidded stare turning to a frown. “If you recall, ‘that guy’ was promised help with his chores—from his caretaker, mind you—because cleaning a light-forsaken castle is a bit more adventurous than cleaning a tree house. And, you know? ‘That guy’s’ been cleaning this dungeon all by himself, watching said caretaker sit on her flank and read a book to which she already knows the ending.”
“But—”
“So yes, Twilight, I’m gonna be ‘that guy’ right now.” He yawned loudly. “And right now, ‘that guy’s’ got some sleep to catch up on. As for you, Miss I-Can-Stop-Anytime-I-Want…” Twilight blinked, and blinked again when she saw Spike holding a broom. "There are twelve dusty floors with your name on them."
“But—”
Then she was pushed toward the door, her dock squeaking and dragging across the floor.
“Don’t you worry, Twilight. I’ve even made a checklist. Very fancy…”
Twilight twisted toward the shrinking book, her hoof reaching and grabbing at air like a needy foal.
If Celestia hadn’t already used thirty-seven ice packs over the last three days, she would've had one right then—and may’ve caught hypothermia. Instead, she sat in her throne, eyes curtained by frazzled, flowing mane, and with her magic holding a very troubling letter.
“He called the Duchess of Trottingham a… a… a what?!”
Celestia slowly, deliberately brought the letter to her own muzzle, reiterating those three damning words with a shaky tone. “A beached whale. Discord called the mare who funds our trading agreement… a beached… whale.”
Luna picked up her jaw and stomped on the immaculate throne. “Why?!” she shouted. “Why does he do these things?!”
Through her mane, Celestia stared at Luna like she’d asked why fish live in water.
“Stupid!” the dark mare shouted again. “Stupid Discord! Stupid book! Stupid foal who took his book! Stupid, stupid, stupid!”
In a divine flash of inspiration, Celestia decided not to read the second letter out loud. Or tell her sister she’d received it at all. Surely the last thing Luna needed to hear was Discord hitting on the Maretonian Duke’s daughter, then turning all their vegetables into a swarm of locusts.
“Sister, tell me you’ve warned Princess Cadance,” Luna begged, suddenly exhausted. “We can ill-afford any more of this.”
Celestia’s eyes didn't emerged from her hair. “Warned her the day Discord left,” she said.
Finally, Luna calmed herself enough to sit beside the other mare, her forehead wrinkled with stress and insomnia.
“Well, at least we know that no allies have taken his book,” Celestia said.
“I’m not sure I see the bright side,” Luna replied, glancing warily though one of many large windows. “The air grows thick. The horizon turns dark…”
Celestia stifled a sigh as she shared her sister’s view. It was true. The matron of day had denied it first glance, the first day Discord had been gone. She passed it off as a fluke, or some nationwide pegasus holiday that a ruler of Equestria knew nothing about.
Both notions were absurd, of course. Clouds, black as night and thick as curdled milk, climbed from the distance and rose into clear skies like spilled ink.
“A precursor to your visions?” Celestia asked.
Luna bowed her head in worry. “I fear, if the culprit isn’t found soon…” she trailed off.
Celestia closed her eyes, if only to tear her sight from the approaching maelstrom. There was no longer any doubt that Discord was behind the destruction Luna described. They both knew it was only a matter of time.
She turned back to her sister and said, “It’s past time we intervened.”
Luna lifted her head with a determined frown. “Yes. I’ve already contacted the Element of Kindness just the other night. I suspect she’s spoken with Discord since his book was taken,” she said.
Celestia gave a clipped nod. “Good. I’ve no doubt that she’d be able to calm him, if nothing else.”
The sun princess couldn’t help but notice Luna’s wrinkled muzzle, nor the quiet hiss through her nose.
“Are… you okay?”
After a beat, the moon princess turned her frowned to Celestia. “I still can’t believe you made me donate the kittens…” she said.
Celestia returned the frown. “You’re not the one who has to take a cortisone shot every hour for the next week. Have you any idea how long it took to remove all the cat hair?”
Luna frowned harder. “Well, I should; you made me clean it up,” she growled through clenched teeth.
“And I’ll ask you now, what I asked you then.” Celestia’s frown lifted into a tiny smile. “What have we learned?”
Luna just scowled.
“Thought so…”
Considering her occupation, Fluttershy should’ve been used to this.
It wasn’t often her cottage was filled to the ceiling with pairs of every woodland creature in existence, but Fluttershy was nothing if not tolerant. And she was very tolerant. She always took every frenzied squeak, chirp, and roar with a smile that could've made any criminal turn themselves in, and she’d soothe them with that voice that sang without singing.
Today, she panicked with them. Justified, of course. Seeing inky black clouds climb from the horizon would've scared anypony, never mind a skittish mare like her. What made it all so much worse?
She knew the cause. And she, along with every animal—no, every living thing on Equus—had every right to be worried. Very, very worried.
“Oh my goodness,” Fluttershy whimpered, pacing in what little elbow room her frightened animals allowed. “Oh my goodness. Oh my goodness, please hurry, girls.”
A tiny mew gave her ear a twitch. She glanced sadly at the very new, very unexpected bundle of kittens in a straw basket beside her. For the past three days, Fluttershy couldn’t hope to guess where they came from.
There wasn’t even a clue, save for a note that read, ‘Blame my sister!’ in frenzied, red scribbles.
That didn’t concern her, though.
Discord in an uncontrollable blood-rage, maybe, but not this.
There was a knock at the door, and Fluttershy couldn’t quite remember learning the limber acrobatics she performed to get to it. She threw the door open and smiled for the first time in days.
“Oh, thank Celestia you’re all he—”
“Do you see this?!” Rainbow Dash shouted, gesturing to the blackened horizon. “Do you see this?! This has ‘fifty hours overtime’ written all over it!”
Applejack shoved the furious pegasus aside with a huff. “Don’t mind her, sugarcube. She’s just ornery for skippin’ out on work,” she said.
“Indeed,” Rarity added. “ And judging by those clouds…”
Fluttershy blanched. “Oh, no! I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to impose.”
Applejack shrugged and said, “S’okay, ‘Shy. I was gonna check up on you anyway when I got your message.” A frightened carrier-pigeon poked its head from AJ’s mane and darted to its caretaker’s, shivering.
“And, not to worry, dear,” Rarity said. “I may have been hard at work, but when my newly-created scarf tied itself into a noose and chased me around the Boutique, I—”
“Fifty! Hours! Overtime!”
They all stared blankly at a quaking Rainbow Dash.
Fluttershy turned back to Applejack. “But where’s Pinkie Pie?”
The others grimaced.
“That’s… when we knew, for sure, something was amiss,” Rarity said.
Applejack stood aside and allowed a confused Fluttershy to see their tense shivering pink friend. Her teeth chattered like she’d slept in a blizzard. Her muscles were cracked and defined beneath her rigid frame, and speaking coherently was impossible.
“D-d-d-d-d-da-da-do-d-d-d—”
“Doozy.” AJ, Rarity, and a finally-calm Rainbow Dash chimed together.
Fluttershy’s hooves shot to her cheeks. “Oh, pickles! It’s worse than I thought! This is terrible! Horrible!” She crushed her nose against a shocked Applejack’s. “Where’s Twilight?! You all need to hear this!”
The farm mare stumbled away and regained herself. “W-we thought she’d be here fir—”
Fluttershy had already left a fading trail of dust toward Ponyville’s new castle. Jaws were dropped. Rarity, Applejack, and Rainbow Dash shared worried glances and rushed after the frantic pegasus.
Pinkie followed them with shudders, her hooves pelting a cratered path, and her every shake worsening all the more.
**********
It wasn’t inviting to furiously beat on a castle door like it owed her money, but Fluttershy wasn’t exactly at peace. A panting Applejack snatched one of the mare’s yellow hooves.
“Hold on there… sugarcube,” the earth pony said between pants. “Ya gonna tell us what’s got you wound tighter than grubs in a bird cage?”
Fluttershy turned to her waiting friends with a deep breath. The door opened behind her, and she threw her eyes at a… very peculiar sight.
Spike. Wearing a velvet robe. In midday. With a bubble pipe.
“Ah, ladies,” the little dragon greeted. “So kind of you to join us.”
Rainbow Dash blinked and started snickering. “Okay. What’s going on? You only wear that getup when your chores are done. And, last I checked, you live in big castle with twelve floors and no servants.”
Spike just grinned.
It all became so clear to me.
After all the virtues I threw away, after all I had squandered for my own gain, I finally understood what a being with cosmic knowledge and power could never gain on his own; the most powerful magic of all. The magic that changed me in ways I’d never fathomed.
Me, a deceiver who’d driven fathers paranoid, and turned them against their own sons. Me, a seducer who’d turned wise kings into power-mad fools, and laughed as their towers hit the ground. Me, a monster…
They forgave me for all my flaws, my selfishness and cruelty, and even stomached my betrayal. They changed me. They taught me.
They saved me.
An uncaring fiend no longer, I stood for every peasant, bum, and scrub on this little dirt-clod among the stars. And they stood for m—
~
“Ah-ha!” came Spike’s victorious shout.
Twilight unleashed a squeal so pitched, it rivaled those of her childhood. She shoved the book beneath her bed, snatched her trusty feather-duster and dusted like she hadn’t in done so in days. Which, according to Spike, and why she wore a tiny apron at the time, was the whole reason she was dusting in the first place.
Twilight stopped and turned to a smirking Spike with her own tiny grin. “W-why, Spike. You, uh… surprised me,” she said, straightening her dusty mane.
The dragon smirked on. “Yup. Tends to happen to ponies caught in the act,” he replied.
Twilight fell to her rump by complete accident, her tiny smile growing and growing.
“But, of course!” she agreed a little too eagerly. “You know how I am with cleaning! Can’t control myself, sometimes!”
By the time Twilight realized she’d sounded like a complete idiot, Spike was already marching toward her. And despite the wings, extensive knowledge of teleportation magic, or functional legs, Twilight couldn’t escape.
He closed in. She skittered away until her back pressed against the bed. His smirk remained. Her smile became so stretched it actually started to hurt. He raised an eyebrow. She started to sweat. He stopped just inches between her shaky legs, looking up at those shifting purple eyes.
Her tail twitched to one side, hiding the partially exposed book. Spike glanced down at the tail, then back at Twilight. He took hit of his bubble pipe.
“Our friends are here,” he said in a light tone. “Fluttershy has news.”
Twilight’s enormous grin vanished.
To say Princess Cadance was nervous would be a bold, punishable lie. Because Princess Cadance, in fact, wasn't nervous, she was terrified beyond rational thought and diction.
She already recieved the letters, of course, she was warned days before Discord fell through the crystalline ceiling and marched toward her shared throne.
But she was still terrified, if not for the sheer magnitude of Celestia's warning or Discord's thick, rib-caving presence, then for a frowning Shining Armor rising from his throne. Cadance eased him back down with a hoof, her eyes worried.
Discord marched on, his steps echoing dimly among the jagged crystal architecture. He lifted a claw, and a plush red couch flashed into the fray. His steps slowed and stumbled until he collapsed onto the couch with a rather spectacular thud.
Silence.
After a shared glance with her prince, Cadance cleared her throat.
“H-hello Dis—”
An eagle talon raised and silenced her. With shaky arms, Discord lifted his torso from the velvety couch cushions, his eyes lidded and heavy.
“Surely, Your Highnesses,” he began lowly and evenly, “you’ve been told of my coming.”
Husband and wife shared another glance, turned back to Discord and nodded. The draconequus slithered from his couch and stood rigid before the throne.
“Then, surely,” he drove a scaly foot backwards and kicked the now flipping couch across the room. It hit the throne doors, but didn’t shatter; instead, it crystallized them shut, “you know why I’m here.”
Cadance’s eyes widened, a quickened thump in her chest numbing her hooves. She glanced at her husband, his hoof pressed firm upon the sword at his hip.
“Y-yes,” Cadance answered. She was tempted to smile, but feared such a fake gesture would only worsen things. “I suppose this means you haven’t found your book?”
“Mm-hm…” Discord hummed.
“Then what business do you have with us?” Shining Armor spat, gaining a frightened glare and hiss from his wife.
Discord paused, his tired stare darkening a bit. “The same business that’s taken me across this world and back. I require help in finding it.”
“I hardly think that excuses your recent actions,” the unicorn said.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Discord said flatly.
Shining Armor scoffed. "Right. Let's overlook our crystal spires turning to ordinary glass, waterfalls pouring from our buildings and creating puddles of golden bits that ponies have been rioting over for the last two hours." He ignored his wife's gentle prod. "Shall we forget about Trottingham and Maretonia while we're at it?"
"Shining Armor," Cadance whispered.
“Why should we help, when you terrorized all who couldn’t?”
Discord frowned, his eyes flashing with bright red. “Careful, prince,” he warned with a lifted paw. “I’m here to solve my problem, not to become yours.”
Shining Armor’s eyes narrowed. “Is that a threat?”
Discord’s eyes narrowed right back. “Should it be?”
Cadance shot from her seat. “Gentlemen, please! This is hardly the time or place!” In seconds, Discord’s gut-twisting scowl lifted back into his tired stare, and Shining Armor fell back in his seat. Cadance remained standing. “I’m sorry Discord, but the book isn’t here. When word of you issue reached us, we flipped the empire on its head, and interrogated ponies who weren’t even at the Ballroom Party to find it.”
Discord remained still for a moment. A very long, blood-chilling moment. Then his eyes slowly fell to the crystal floor.
“I see…”
The spirit turned away and sauntered toward the balcony. Both rulers leaped off their throne. They galloped down the stairs and stopped when they saw him. He was just standing there, his lion paw draped over the railing like a fur curtain, staring out at swirling black clouds, golden glimmers of bits, and smoke climbing the sky.
“I. Am so. Sick of this,” the spirit said a slight tremble in his tone. “I’ve done nothing but frivolously gallivant from place to place, hoping I’d find it, or at least a clue. But no. I can’t have nice things. I can’t have the one thing I created from nothing. Is that too much to ask?”
“That depends.” Shining Armor piped up. “If you do find it, what exactly are you going to do with the thief?”
Discord’s back snapped rigid, and his paw clenched around the groaning metal rail.
“Well, I was going to punch them in the face so hard they’d fly miles from whatever slum they live in.” His paw clenched harder. “But now… now, I’ma punch them so hard, everyone who knew, knows, or ever will know them, would feel it.”
Shining Armor reached for his blade again. “Not on your li—”
A gentle hoof on the shoulder stopped him, and he spun to see a very frightened Cadance. She turned back to Discord. “Could you excuse us a moment, Discord?”
The spirit shrugged, his eyes firmly set on the funnel clouds that spun faster, lightning crackling within those clouds.
The rulers of the Crystal Empire stood at a corner, their words whispered.
“We have to be careful, Shining Armor,” Cadance said. “This is a very delicate task.”
“Delicate?” the prince asked with a squinted eye. “You heard him, Cadance; even if he does get his book, he’ll just hurt the pony who took it.”
“Exactly. Discord is angry right now, and irking him won’t help us or the poor sod who took it.”
Shining Armor scowled. “So, what, we just roll over and let this traitor do what he wants?”
“No!” Cadance’s eyes darted to Discord’s direction with a bitten lip. “No, Shining. We have to consider who’s at risk here.”
The prince raised a brow.
“What if it’s somepony we know?” Cadance continued. “What if that somepony just forgot to leave a note in the check-out box, because they were so eager to read it? Heavens, love, what if it was Twilight?”
Shining Armor’s pupils shrunk. “I’ll kill him.”
“Guh. You’re missing the point,” Cadance argued, now frowning. “We need to at least try to calm him down; perhaps assist him further in his search. Or, even better, if one of us finds who took it, Discord doesn’t have to know.”
The unicorn’s eyes brightened as though a light flickered in his head. “Huh.”
Cadance smiled and nuzzled her prince. “Come on. We’ve got work to do.”
Shining Armor nodded and they both emerged from their corner.
“Okay, Discord, Shining and I have talked it over, and…Discord?”
The balcony was empty.
Discord was gone with only a crushed rail to remember him by.
Then they both remembered—even after a whole year of ruling the empire—that crystal actually carry sound. And realized Discord heard every word.
“Oh. Well, this is, um…” Shining Armor paused for seconds, searching for the perfect articulation.
Completely, utterly, incomprehensibly doomed is what she was.
Now, some ponies may have scoffed at the notion, may have written it off as an exaggeration; just Twilight Sparkle being Twilight Sparkle, they’d say.
But that wasn’t the case, because Twilight Sparkle was doomed and she knew it. With every sentence that poured from Fluttershy’s mouth, with every stomach-twisting recollection of her mistake, Twilight couldn’t realize any more how much she was doomed.
Her spotless record at the Canterlot Archive: doomed.
Her untainted conscience; doomed.
The approving nods from her mentor-turned-equal; doomed.
The unwavering respect from ponies who loved her like family; doomed
The most profound friendship she’d ever made, and possibly ever made since; doomed.
Doomed. All of it, doomed. And it was her own stupid fault.
Maybe, if she'd spent more time reading instead of that extra five minutes in bed every morning, she’d have actually finished.
Maybe, if she hadn’t brushed her mane and tail those few extra times, or brushed her teeth every morning, or tended to any essential routine at all, Twilight may’ve finished the book and returned it to Canterlot within an hour. She might've even finished if she hadn't insisted on rereading the first hundred-twenty-seven chapters.
“And that’s why, girls,” Fluttershy continued, “we have to find it! I’m afraid if we don’t find Discord’s book, something awful will happen!”
“Whoa. Back up,” Applejack cut in with a hoof to her temple. “Discord’s behind all the freaky weather? Why that—”
“But it’s not what you think!” Fluttershy cried. “He’s not doing it on purpose, he’s just upset.”
Rarity shot the pegasus a sideways stare and said, “Over a book? He conjures a storm filled with funnel clouds and lightning over just a book?”
Fluttershy started to shake. “Just a… a…” She frowned with trembling eyes.
“She’s right, you know, “Rainbow Dash piped up. “Discord’s just being a big baby. I bet if we set him down and give him the what-for, he’ll—”
“How can you say that?!” Fluttershy shouted.
Everypony flinched in their seats.
“You weren’t there! None of you! You didn’t see him pacing grooves in my yard, staring at an empty page! You didn’t clean up all the torn pages of scribbled words, or see him grin so wide when he couldn’t stop writing!” Fluttershy’s throat trembled. “You didn’t have to calm him down every time he misplaced it, or be crushed by his hugs when he found it, or even have the privilege to read it. It was…” She wiped the tears off her face. “It was so beautiful.”
Nopony else spoke, all eyes glued to Fluttershy. The mare didn’t shy away, she didn’t shrink behind her mane, and she did not apologize.
“I… I thought I understood Discord better when we first became friends, but…” she paused, her eyes cast aside, staring at nothing, “but I knew nothing. Nothing, girls. None of us did.”
Still, nopony spoke.
“That book holds everything Discord ever was, and what friendship helped him become. He poured sleepless nights into that book, talking to himself when he thought I wasn’t listening, burning hundreds of pages until he finally knew what to write.”
Rarity rubbed her elbow with a bitten lip. “I’ve done the same with many unseen clothing designs. More often than I care to admit, really.”
“That’s what he admires most about you Rarity.” The unicorn’s brows lifted at Fluttershy’s words. “He didn’t realize it until after he started writing, but you two have a common quirk; perfectionism.”
Rarity’s cheeks puffed with red. “Hmph! I’m not always a perfectionist.” She straightened out strands of loose hair that didn’t really need straightening.
Fluttershy turned to another and said, “Applejack.” The farm mare twitched. “He respects your ways and what they’ve done for Ponyville all these years. He says even when you’re gone, all you’ve done will survive through your children, that Ponyville will thrive and expand because of you.”
Applejack pulled her Stetson over her now-red muzzle. “Golly… Discord said that?”
Fluttershy turned to another. “Rainbow Dash.” The other pegasus tensed. “He says that you’re a leader, that your charisma makes ponies want to be better, that you could lead entire armies into war and crawl from the muck victorious.”
Rainbow’s eyes sparkled like a filly at an amusement park. “Like Commander Hurricane?” She grinned wide.
With a giggle, and perhaps without even realizing it, Rainbow flapped her wings and hovered above her seat.
She turned to another. “Pinkie Pie, he—”
She was answered with quaking shudders and squeals as Pinkie twisted in her constant shaking.
Fluttershy paused. “We… should probably hurry.”
“What?! But what about…!”
All eyes turned to Twilight, who shrank away with wilted ears.
“Uh, you alright, Twi?” Applejack asked. “You’ve been all edgy ever since we arrived.”
Rainbow Dash smirked. “And what's with the little outburst?" she asked. "Something you wanna tell us, egghead?”
Twilight nearly choked on her own tongue. “W-what do you—of course not! Why would I take Discord’s book?!”
Silence.
Once upon a time, the idea of documenting her own stupidity would make her laugh her own tail off. But right then, Twilight realized there wouldn’t be enough ink or paper in the universe to write it.
“That’s… not what I asked,” Rainbow said with a slight frown.
Twilight began to sweat, and she felt five more frowns on her, digging into her coat, ripping through her veins and squeezing her heart.
“Come to think of it,” Rarity said with a squinted eye, “we haven’t seen much of you this past week.”
“She’s right,” Applejack agreed, slipping her hat back on. “And if’n memory serves, you only lock yourself indoors that long when you read. A lot.”
That’s when Twilight felt a sixth pair of eyes. She looked down beside her and felt her insides turn to ash. Then freeze. Then melt back into ash. Spike looked back up at her from the small stone seat next to her’s, frowning with lidded eyes.
She recognized that look; disappointment.
Twilight threw her most well-hidden, pleading look to the young dragon. He rolled his eyes, hopped off the chair, approached a desk, grabbed a quill and parchment, and left that rotunda, his little steps fading down the hall.
Rainbow Dash landed swiftly before a yelping alicorn. “Alright, what’s goin’ on?”
“Dash!”
“Oh, come on, Fluttershy!” Rainbow shot back, her glare never leaving Twilight. “I think the writing’s on the wall.”
“Hah! I g-g-g-ge-get it!” Pinkie shuddered.
“Twilight?” The frightened alicorn turned to an approaching Rarity, the artist’s frown more concerned than accusing. “Is there something we should know?”
Twilight shook and shook and shook so hard, her diamond seat rattled. Her arms and legs coiled against herself, her eyes darting between her friends.
The moment Applejack lifted from her seat, Twilight squeezed her eyes shut and wished she was somewhere else.
And right then, just like that, she felt biting-cold on her coat, heard the deep roils of thunder, and heard the unmistakable whistle of tall-mountain winds.
She peeked an eye open, then they both shot wide when, one; she remembered she occasionally teleported when she was scared out of her muscular structure, and two; she was far, far, far away from her castle. And, for that matter, far away from Ponyville.
She gasped at the clouds stretching over the sky like a canvas painted black. Vortexes scattered around. Lightning flashing wildly within, but not without. The sun, which she was certain should’ve been further along the sky, hung high and still, skirted by those very clouds.
“Twilight…”
Her back went rigid.
It was then that Twilight not only knew how she really got there, but that she was, in fact, completely, utterly, incomprehensibly doomed.
She slowly turned around and stumbled backwards, seeing exactly what she feared she would see. “D-D-D-Dis—” Twilight blinked, steeled her hooves, and stood her ground with a nervous smile. “Discord. H-how are you doing?”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at her.
His eyes were settled onto the roil of chaos in the skies. His mismatched legs dangled over the summit, his arms craned at his side, his serpentine back hunched and stiff, his body deathly still against the mountain wind.
“I’ve been better…” he answered.
Despite her brain’s obnoxiously loud protests, Twilight approached the spirit with quiet, calculated steps. But when she stopped at his side and saw his face, she felt her heart crack like an egg.
His eyes were heavy and narrow, his brows stilted up, and any evidence that he could even smile didn’t exist. But the worst part—the part that made Twilight sit her little rump right beside him and try to search through layers she never knew until that day?
He looked old. Very old and very, very tired.
“Are… are you alr—”
“I’ll cut to the chase Twilight,” Discord cut in, gaining a tiny squeak from the purple mare, “I lost something very dear to me, and I’ve turned Equestria inside-out to find it.”
Twilight glanced at the horizon with a playful frown. “Huh. I hadn’t noticed.” She grinned back up at Discord, hoping his own smile would meet her’s. It didn’t, and her grin crumbled.
“There is a book somewhere on this world and it belongs to me.” Twilight gasped at those words with a hoof to her chest. “I ask for your help, Twilight.”
Then he looked at her, and Twilight was sure if she’d turned her head away any faster, she’d have been paralyzed from the neck down. She couldn’t look at him; she couldn’t look at those tired eyes, knowing the life was gone, and that she’d stolen that life.
“I...I—”
“Will you help me?” he asked.
Twilight squeezed her eyes shut again, hoping she’d open them and be back at her castle, in her warm queen-sized bed, with her sleeping-cap, free from this horrible dream.
She opened her eyes and saw only Discord awaiting an answer.
“I… Yes,” she said, “of course I will. W-we’re friends.”
She hoped for it—she’d dare say she worked for it, in fact—but when Discord smiled, it was alien. Not the taunting sneer he’d have most days, or that condescending grin. No, this was a smile. A tired, relieved smile that lifted ageless eyes.
And it sickened her to the core.
“Friends… Yes.” Discord turned back to the twisting maelstrom. “Friends.”
Twilight cringed. “Where was the last place you had it?” she asked.
“The Canterlot Archive,” Discord answered. “It was taken from its altar eight days ago.”
Despite her best efforts, Twilight gulped. “Okay, I’ll ask around. I-I’ll organize a search in Canterlot if I have to.”
He kept that smile, and Twilight couldn’t bring herself to accept it, or look at it. She wanted to; She wanted to return that smile, to feel some sort of accomplishment, to feel she’d lifted a friend from despair.
But she lied. She was a filthy liar and a bad, bad pony.
“Thank you, Twilight.”
That one stung. Right on the heart.
With a wrinkled nose, she shared the spirit’s view, finding an in-equine comfort in the chaos before her. But the silence thickened the already-humid air and numbed her limbs. She couldn’t stand it anymore. Something had to give.
“Discord?” He never turned to her, his smile held strong. “What… what do you think of m—”
He snapped his fingers.
The wind was gone, the cold was gone, the distant, stormy howls were gone, and when Twilight blinked, she found herself right back at her castle, right back in that rotonda, right back in her diamond chair.
She blinked again and realized she was alone. Then blinked a final time and finally realized her error. Every thought was now poisoned by her guilty conscience, and sent ripping pain through her chest.
She hissed as she clutched her aching heart.
“Oh,” she whimpered, “what have I done?”
“There you are!”
Twilight’s ears shot up and her head snapped toward a snorting Rainbow Dash at the double-doorway. She darted at the alicorn.
“No, wait!” Twilight screeched.
But as Twilight dived aside, Rainbow turned just in time and tackled her to the shiny floor. They rolled and tumbled until Twilight found her arms firmly pressed onto unyielding marble floors, staring up into furious eyes.
“Alright, princess! You’d better start talkin’ right now!” Rainbow demanded.
Twilight trembled and said, “Dash, I can explain!”
Rainbow dunked back with a shrill yelp and was yanked off of Twilight completely, her prismatic tail clamped in a frowning Applejack’s teeth.
The farm pony spit the tail out with a hoof pressed on Rainbow’s backside. “But she can’t rightly do that with a fool-headed pegasus breathin’ in her face, now can she?”
The others flooded the room, and Twilight took Pinkie Pie’s offered hoof and lifted herself up. Could she bring herself to look at any of them? No.
“Twilight?” Her heart teleported to her throat, and she gave a wide, trembling stare at a deeply concerned Fluttershy sauntering toward her, those blue eyes bright. “I’m not accusing you. I just want… I have to know.”
Twilight shivered, once again feeling all those eyes penetrate her flesh.
“Of all ponies I’d expected to steal… You?” Rarity said, barely keeping her jaw connected to her head.
“But I didn’t mean to!” Twilight defended. “It was just sitting there in the Canterlot Archive with no signed author and more pages than I knew a book could have! I was curious!”
Fluttershy stumbled back like she was diagnosed with cancer. “But… but how could you?”
Twilight took a tentative step. “Please, Fluttershy, I’m sor—”
“He didn't even get to finish it.” Fluttershy whispered, her mane falling over her eyes.
Twilight didn’t really know how it felt, but she was certain she’d popped a blood vessel right then. “Wait. What?”
Of course. Of course, Discord didn’t finish his book. A book left in a public library for all to read. It made perfect sense.
“That makes no sense!” Twilight protested. “All those pages and he’s still not finished? I spent over a week reading and rereading a book that wasn’t even finished?!”
“That’s not the point, Twilight!” Everypony gasped at Fluttershy’s sharp yell. “That book belongs to Discord, and he needs it back. Now!”
Twilight bit her lip. “I… I can’t!” she cried.
“Oh, come on, really?!” Rainbow said beneath AJ’s domineering hoof.
“I can’t give it to him now! If he finds out I took it…” She cast a worried glance at the wall. “I can’t betray him like that.”
“You’ve already betrayed him!” Fluttershy argued. “You’re betraying him right now!”
Twilight threw a wide-eyed stare at the pegasus. “That’s not fair!”
Before anypony knew, Fluttershy was nose-to-nose with Twilight. “Fair?! Taking something that doesn’t belong to you, and hiding it from the owner is fair?! Pretending to be his friend as you sharpen the knife behind his back is fair?!”
Twilight could only gawk, and Fluttershy stumbled away with her own wide-eyed stare. “Oh, Twilight, I’m sorry. It’s just…”
Glimmering tears welled in Fluttershy’s eyes. “He was so sad when we couldn’t find it. Why can’t you understand that?” she asked with only the strength left to whisper.
Twilight couldn’t look at her anymore. She couldn’t look at anypony anymore. She just stared at her hooves, the life leaving her purple eyes like sap from a wounded tree.
“I do understand.” Twilight whispered back, and Fluttershy tilted her head. “I spoke with him just minutes ago, and… I lied. I told him I hadn’t seen the book, because—I don’t know—maybe I was just scared. Maybe I just wanted him to keep smiling when I promised to help.”
By now, Fluttershy was dried of anger, Rarity searched every inch of the room like it would help her change the subject, Rainbow Dash was calm, Applejack had fell on her haunches, and Pinkie was still shaking.
A saffron hoof found Twilight’s chin and lifted her to firm blue eyes.
“You have to give it back,” Fluttershy said.
Twilight said nothing for long, dragging moments, her eyes wanted to shift away, but were locked to the other mare’s.
“I will. Just… just give me time to figure this out.”
Fluttershy paused, then nodded. And so did everypony else.
“Shining Armor threatened Discord?!”
Celestia winced, her subsided headache threatening to return. “Please stop shouting, Luna.”
“Why do you think I came here alone?” Princess Cadance said with a disappointed frown. “It took all my patience to convince him to stay at the Empire. If it weren’t for that storm and the riots, he’d be here right now, rambling about combat strategies I don’t understand—and that I’m pretty sure wouldn’t work.” She sighed. “He means well, but… Guh, stallions.”
Celestia blanched and asked, “So, the storms have reached the north?”
Cadance gave a grim nod. “I had to take three different trains to get here because of destroyed transit stations.”
The matron of day wasn’t all that surprised; she’d received letter after letter of property damages and costs and scheduled meetings to accommodate them.
Luna shot Cadance an unamused look. “Well, you could’ve—oh, I don’t know—flew down here? Saved yourself some trouble?” she said.
Cadance returned her fellow princess’ look and, from a nearby window, pointed at twisting black skies that could swallow an army of professional fliers.
Luna squinted with wilted ears. “Oh. Somehow I completely forgot about that…”
Cadance sighed and said, “Look, we’re getting off topic here.”
“Yes,” Celestia agreed with a worried frown. “You mentioned Princess Twilight earlier. Is everything well?”
“I… I don’t know,” Cadance said. “When Discord was at the Crystal Empire, he left when we said her name. I came here personally to check on things.”
Celestia hummed quietly. “I haven’t received any letters from her. And, to my knowledge, she doesn’t know what has happened.”
“Wait a second,” Cadance said with a lifted hoof. “Twilight hasn’t written to you? With all the storms and madness going on?”
Celestia blinked, and realized she may have neglected certain details.
“Oh,” Cadance said. “Well, I think we should bring her in the loop. Who knows; she may be able to find Discord’s bo—”
A fiery flash of green burst before Celestia, and behind the parting smoke was a rolled parchment. The white mare smiled at the crystal princess.
“Huh. Ironic,” Cadance muttered.
With expertly contained haste, Celestia took the letter with her magic, tore the seal, unrolled it, and read.
Dear Princess Celestia,
I have my doubts as I write this, and I can’t imagine Twilight would forgive me, but I can’t sit back and watch anymore. She’s the one who took Discord’s book, but she meant no harm, I’m sure; she was just curious and she promised to return it the moment she was finished. I’ve just stepped outside for the first time in over a week, and these storm clouds seem to worsen by the minute. So I can safely guess Discord isn’t too happy.
Please, as an old friend and loyal subject, I ask that you keep this from Discord until the book is returned and to go easy on Twilight. She still gets a bit carried away, as you know.
—Yours truly;
Spike.
~
Celestia’s voice lowered to a slurred mumble before she even finished the second sentence. The annoyed protests of her sister weren’t even heard as Celestia’s eyes blazed past every written line.
She read the letter again. Then again. And again, until finally, Luna’s hoof pressed on her shoulder.
“Sister, what is it?” The moon mare’s voice was no longer annoyed, but concerned. “You seem distressed.”
“It was Twilight…” Celestia muttered as though she’d just discovered the cause of world hunger. “Twilight took Discord’s book…”
The silence that followed probably killed an entire field of flowers somewhere.
“Oh, is that all?” Luna asked. “Heavens, Celestia, you had me worried.”
Cadance gawked at her fellow alicorn. “Luna! Didn’t you hear her?! This is no laughing matter!”
“Clearly,” Luna answered with a level smile and a faint twitch. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to walk to that corner over there,” she pointed to the darkest throne room corner, “and faint in peace.”
When the shock finally wore off, and a stumbling Luna was halfway to her corner, Celestia rolled the letter back up.
“What should we do?” Cadance asked, a bead of sweat falling down her neck. “Discord can’t find out about this.”
“He won’t,” Celestia said with a determined frown.
“But what if—”
“He won’t,”
Cadance shut her mouth.
“We’re going to retrieve that book immediately and return it to Discord. He needn’t be any the wiser of who took it,” Celestia instructed with closed eyes. “That should be enough.”
“And…” Cadance hesitated. “A-and if he does find out?”
Celestia’s eyes remained closed, her wings binding to her sides. “Still the persistent one, aren’t you?”
“Nervous habit,” Cadance replied with a blushing grin.
White light burst before the throne just as Luna reached her corner. Celestia and Cadance lowered their arms from their eyes and saw a tired Discord standing on the red carpet.
“Ladies,” he greeted.
With a hoarse groan and an echoing thud, Luna promptly fainted.
“D-D-Discord,” Celestia couldn’t help but stammer. “W-what are you doing here?”
“Well,” Discord began with that unnerving pause, “it seems I’ve acquired some help for my search. To my understanding, there will be search-parties organized, on my behalf, to find my lost book. No doubt you’ve already been notified?”
His voice seemed lighter than it was a week before, Celestia noted.
“In fact,” Discord continued with a tired smile, “I’d wager that the little letter in your lap is from that sweet, darling student of yours.”
A cold pike shot into Celestia’s chest, and she unconsciously levitated the letter to her back.
“Actually, it’s—”
“That’s exactly it, Discord!” came Cadance’s all-too cheerful answer. “Just an unimportant notification! Nothing to worry yourself with!”
Discord raised a brow at the pink mare. Celestia offered her a frightened glare.
“Oh, how delightful!” the spirit cheered. “This could expedite my search by leaps and bounds! Oh, I simply must read it now.”
Discord started marching forward, and Celestia hung Cadance at the gallows with her eyes. With shallow breaths, the pink alicorn darted in Discord’s path.
“W-wait! You don’t want to read it ‘now’ now!” Cadance insisted with a pearly-white grin. “Because, uh… th-the search party needs to organize. Yes!”
“Oh?” Discord smiled again and walked past Cadance. “Perfect! Then I’ll help them organize when I know who they are.”
“You can’t!” She jumped in his path again.
He frowned.
She gulped.
“Cadance—Precious Jewel—this search-party will help me reclaim what is rightfully mine, and secure a long-awaited union with this,” Discord lifted a balled fist to Cadance’s nose, “and the thief’s face.” He paused and Cadance began to sweat. “Hint, hint...”
With a tiny whimper, Cadance didn’t fight Discord’s gentle shove as he walked past her again. Celestia frowned and shivered at the drop of perspiration running down her back.
“Now, as strange as it seems, I’m very tired and in no mood for games,” Discord said. “I’ll just read the letter and be on my way.”
Celestia’s wings steadily unfurled. “I… I can’t allow that, Discord,” she said.
Discord stopped at the throne stairway, his head titled with a deepened frown. That frown slowly—slowly—lifted into an unreadable stare, his head straightening.
He held out his lion paw. “Give me the letter, Celestia.”
“No.”
He snapped his fingers, and the rolled paper appeared between his furry digits. With a sharp gasp, Celestia’s horn beamed bright, and a searing ray of heat shot at the letter. A yellow bubble broke that ray into harmless light.
With his frown returned, Discord unfolded the parchment at a tortuously slow pace, and Celestia shot to her hooves.
“Discord, don’t.”
He paced around the throne room and began reading.
Really, Spike had no reason to feel guilty. Sure, he’d snuck behind Twilight’s back and informed Princess Celestia of her misdeed, but it was for the greater good. Sure, he did that after he’d extorted her need for secrecy—not that watching a princess clean her own castle like a common maid bored him.
The one fact was this: Spike wasn’t wrong. He wrote that letter to save Twilight a world of guilt and pain.
It was simple. Spike needed only to sit back, wait for the return-letter, watch Canterlot guards interrogate Twilight at her own castle, watch her confess, watch her return the book, endure the silent treatment for a month—or a toss off a cliff, which ever came first—and normality would've been restored.
Simple.
Did that stop Spike from sitting on that bench, watching the blackened sky, and wishing one of those lightning bolts would strike him to a scaly crisp?
Well, maybe a little, but the churning pit in his chest wouldn’t vanish.
“Spike?” came a familiar voice. “Shouldn’t you be inside?”
The young dragon turned his eyes to a fuchsia-colored earth pony. “Oh, hey Cheerilee. No, I could use the fresh air,” he said as whistling winds pushed the trees and sailed leaves, newspapers, and other debris across the air.
“I-I don’t know, Spike,” Cheerilee replied, wrinkling her nose against the pungent winds. “Mayor Mare urged everypony inside just minutes ago. And judging by those funnel clouds…”
That’s when Spike noticed several ponies galloping to their homes. The wind picked up and whistled louder. Spike looked straight up at the high-noon sun, skirted by the swirling clouds.
“Well… ‘least the sun’s still out,” he joked.
The wind blew harder, whipping Cheerilee’s mane along.
“Ack! Spike I have to return to the school. The fillies and colts can’t leave the building until this blows over, and its only getting worse. Promise me you’ll go inside,” Cheerilee pleaded.
With a sigh, Spike nodded and Cheerilee trotted on her way.
The wind blew harder, but that was fine; Spike wasn’t really going inside. This weather was perfect for a wandering mind.
So what if all that flying debris started flying even faster? So what if several more vortexes spun behind the mountains. So what if the lightning crackling in those black clouds started striking the earth like so many whips. So what if the funnel clouds dropped full-blown tornados one by o—
Spike threw his arms up. “Done.”
Just as he hopped off that bench and touched the ground, he clutched his cramping stomach. He unleashed a mighty, fiery belch and watched the expected letter materialize through the smoke.
“Huh. Well, that was fast,” he said.
He snatched the letter, tore the seal, and read. Then he read it again with a raised brow. He turned the letter upside-down, flipped it backwards, and read it again.
“I don't get it.”
Then, it happened.
A deep, rumbling boom shattered Spike’s balance and he fell right on his face. He lifted himself, coughed out dust, and shook his head. But when he turned around, he sorely wished he hadn’t.
There, in the faded distance, was Canterlot Castle. Crumbling to pieces. Its once-mighty towers tumbled like severed trees. A shimmering dot ejected from the thick debris, high into the blackened sky.
With a jagged flash of lightning and a booming shockwave, that dot shot ahead.
Straight toward Ponyville.
“Oh, no...” Spike whispered as he stumbled back. “He didn’t.”
The dot grew, and with it came a distant roar.
Spike ran.
“He did!” he cried. “Discord read the letter!”
And so, as Spike dashed back to Twilight’s castle with speed no baby dragon could've ever achieved, his forgotten letter joined the other debris in the gale winds. If fortune had ever smiled on the planet of Equus, perhaps other ponies might’ve seen the letter as well, and heeded its one urgent message.
Run.
“And you know exactly what you’re going to do?” Rarity asked for the fifth time.
Twilight stifled an annoyed sigh. “I do. There’s not really much else I can do. It all comes down to honesty in the end.”
Applejack bit her lip. “Now, sugarcube, normally I’d agree, and we all know that, but…”
Twilight threw an empty smile at the unsigned book floating in her magical grasp.
“You know what? Maybe just outright giving Discord his book back is a little…” Rainbow Dash trailed off. “Could you maybe sneak it back into the Archi—”
“No, girls,” Twilight cut in. “I’ve already made my decision. And... you were right—all of you. I should have told him the moment I realized it was his. So what if he’d bother me about it, or if he’d want it back immediately. This belongs to him. This is him.”
“Oh,” came Fluttershy’s quiet whimper. “I’m proud of you Twilight, I am, but…” All eyes shifted to her, and, frighteningly enough, she didn’t care. “He’s really upset about his book. And if he finds out you took it, especially after what you told him...” She started shaking. “What if he doesn’t forgive you?”
Twilight was silent, just staring at the book as though it were a sleeping foal. “Then consider this a two-way test; me, owning up to wronging a friend. And him, forgiving a friend.” A lopsided grin found her lips. “Huh. Ironic.”
Pinkie Pie’s constant, unending shivers became outright spasms, all four legs waving like velvet flags. She started screaming through clenched teeth and regaling her friends with spittles of gibberish.
Rainbow Dash offered her pink friend a tired stare. “Layin’ it on a little thick, aren’t ya, Pinks?”
Then, like it never even happened, Pinkie’s quaking shivers stopped, and she just sat there with blank eyes. Silent. Staring at the closest wall.
“Boned.” Pinkie muttered. “We’re all boned. So very, very boned...”
Rainbow shot AJ a look, pointing at Pinkie. AJ just shrugged.
“Oh my…”
All eyes turned to Rarity, who stared stiffly out the window. “Ugh, what now?” Applejack asked, growing annoyed.
“Look…” the unicorn could only whisper.
After a shared glance, the mares—except for a driveling Pinkie—approached the large window. Every. Jaw. Dropped. The gale winds, the lightning, the vortexes strewn along the skies, the tornados dancing across the distant lands.
“Well. I imagine Discord is getting slightly impatient,” Rarity said, gaining flat glares stares from her friends. “What?”
Twilight sighed and said, “Guess that’s my cue.”
With wings open, eyes closed, and tome in grasp, the princess of friendship turned to exit the rotunda and confront her greatest challenge yet. That was the plan, anyway, and certainly not jumping and yelping at the deep, earth-shattering boom that nearly shook the tree-castle to pieces.
It was right then and there, of course, that a deeply-buried unicorn instinct shot to the surface, reminding Twilight of her roots… and that her magic still frizzed out when she was startled.
Perhaps that wasn’t so bad. In fact, any other time, Twilight would've smiled at the old habit and laughed about it.
But there was nothing to laugh about. Nothing at all. Every torn page from the now mangled book told her that. They also told her that she was unforgivably stupid, that she was a waste of flesh and semen, and that some heinous action in a past life must’ve wrought this karma.
But mostly, the scattered rain of pages told her she was doomed.
Completely. Utterly. Incomprehensibly.
Doomed.
Twilight collapsed on her haunches, her jaw hanging, her pupils shrinking. She didn’t even hear the cluttered shouts of her friends, or feel a crying Fluttershy’s hooves violently shake her shoulders.
She saw only darkness and months of written-work raining down like so many epitaphs.
“But…” Twilight cracked the tiniest smile. “But…” A tiny whimpering laugh escaped her lips. “But it’s not fair.”
The large double-doors swung open, and a panting Spike barreled toward the gang, ignoring the fluttering pages. All eyes turned to him as he huffed and wheezed to catch his breath.
Finally, after a deep inhale and the inability to pause between sentences... “It’s not like I did it to get you trouble, that’d be stupid! I only wrote that letter to turn everything back to normal! I didn’t want to, at first, but you were going crazy with guilt and you were hurting and I couldn’t stand it anymore! So I left the castle so you wouldn’t see me, but I saw the weather and remembered what Fluttershy told us, and I knew I had to do something! But now he knows you took the book, and I didn’t want him to know, and now he’s coming, and I’m so, so sorry!”
Somewhere between Spike’s breathless explanation, he barged past Fluttershy and threw himself at Twilight’s hooves, every mare gawking at him.
Purple hooves slapped onto the whimpering dragon’s shoulders and lifted him to a bug-eyed alicorn’s muzzle.
“You. Did. What?!”
Another quake rumbled through the earth and sent everypony tumbling down. Pebbles of diamonds and masonry sprinkled the rotunda. Applejack jumped up and galloped to the now-cracked window, her hooves pressed upon the sill.
“Uh-oh…” the farm pony said.
Twilight lowered Spike to the floor, never turning to the window. “He’s here… isn’t he?” she asked flatly.
Fluttershy, now airborne, zipped to the window, biting her hooves at the distant crater and rising smoke. “No. No, no, no nonononono! This can’t be happening! Not now!”
That’s when Spike noticed the pages spread across the floor. His eyes widened as he glimpsed at some of the text, text he’d once heard Twilight mumble aloud on one of her sleepless nights.
“Oh, we’re so boned,” Spike cried. “Boned! Boned, you understand me?! Boned!”
“You’re not helping, Spike!” Rainbow Dash shouted. “W-what are we supposed to do now?! We can’t let Discord see this!”
“He won’t,” came Twilight strong, even voice, her horn coming aglow.
“But, darling," Rarity argued, “what if—”
“He won’t.”
Everypony turned to Twilight, staring in wonder as a soft windless hurricane of pages circled her, the mangled book cover opened wide before her.
“I’ll fix this.”
The finality in Twilight’s tone silenced the room completely.
The howling winds outside ended that silence. Twilight’s friends all stared out the window again, and saw a growing crowd around the smoky crater.
“Girls,” Fluttershy said, “we have to buy her time.”
Nopony spoke; they all knew what had to be done, of course. There was no other way. They turned back to the monsoon of written text and the baby dragon frantically sweeping stray pages into his arms.
“Twilight,” Applejack said, pulling the brim of her hat. “No matter what happens, don’t come out ‘till the jobs done, ya hear?”
The pages spun faster, and they flapped back to the open cover one by one. Without another word, the five mares ran past the focused alicorn and out of the rotunda.
Pandemonium was a errant normality in Ponyville.
Be it a stampede of startled bovines, a tidal wave of frightened bunnies, rampaging Ursa Minors, thorned Everfree vines, or devilish centaurs hellbent on world-domination, Ponyville had no shortage of excitement.
That excitement, of course, gained the natural reaction: ponies screaming back into their homes with removed welcome mats, doors locked and shutters shut, and never emerging until the threat passed.
Rarely had Ponyvillians returned to their homes, packed their things, barricaded their doors and windows, double-checked their food storages, and held their families close beneath their beds. Rarely had Ponyvillians thought so adamantly that they were doomed.
Rare, indeed, bordering on impossible. But when Canterlot Castle blew up, that day became a cut above the rest.
That day, as winds shook the rooftops and bent the trees to painful-looking angles, as lightning and thunder roared across the heavens, and twisters lifted land and water alike, the collective survival instinct of Ponyville was pushed to the edge.
Some fool ponies had braved the madness that day, shouting futilely for their young who didn’t make it home before the storm worsened, their cries swallowed by howling winds. Others had taken refuge with complete strangers, where they shared stories and memories like childhood friends, then shared their regrets with a good cry or two.
But a select few had stood stoutly in the storm, holding up signs that encouraged repentance, their tears long-since shed and their muzzles lifted with accepting smiles.
And the cause of all this pandemonium was seething in a twenty-by-twenty foot crater, curtained by rising smoke. A crater by which some of those fool ponies gathered.
A particular group of fool ponies galloped toward the crater with determined frowns and, some could say, a deathwish.
With blood surging through their tense limbs and sweat on their brow, the Elements of Harmony stopped before the crater. Two beaming red dots met them from behind the now-fading smoke. After several gasps and shudders, everypony stumbled back as the smoke revealed a familiar shape.
There he was, floating stiffly above that crater. Unsmiling. Unentertained. Frowning.
He scowled straight ahead at Twilight’s distant home. “Hm. Looks like my trajectory was a little off.”
He hovered to the ground like pollen pushed by gentle winds, and landed stoutly before the trembling Elements of Harmony, whom he’d seemed to only just notice.
“Fluttershy.”
All her timidity had returned with a mind-destroying vengeance as her wings snapped closed.
Fluttershy gulped. “Hi Discord.”
“I’ve found it, my dear,” the spirit said. “The book I’ve tirelessly sought for nearly ten days is finally within my reach.”
She gulped again. “Oh. Th-that’s great!” she cheered as best she could, which wasn’t all that much.
Discord paused, and a strange smile found his lips. “Of course, how fast you galloped out of that castle only begs one question.” He hunched down, his face hovering inches to her’s. “How long have you known?”
Fluttershy blanched and choked on air.
Discord’s smile went crooked, his voice low and smooth. “Surely you don’t conspire against me…”
Fluttershy was immediately in tears. “No! Never!” she cried. “I swear, I only found out today! I didn’t know Twilight had the book! None of us did!”
Discord’s face snapped into another scowl, a deep growl vibrating the very air. “So it is true! That sneaky little…!”
The draconequus shook with balled fists, and a distant mountain crumbled apart and lifted into a stray vortex, swallowed from top to bottom. Rainbow Dash caught the sight and gulp loudly.
“But she didn’t mean it!” Fluttershy defended.
“Hah!” Discord laughed. “She promised to ‘help me find it’, that she’d ‘organize a search in Canterlot if she had to’, while she had it all along. And you think she didn’t mean to steal it?!” He released another barking laugh. “In another circumstance I’d have admired her deception.”
His hard, crushing scowl found the castle again, his fists shaking all the more.
“Hold on there, Discord,” came Applejack’s strong tone. “You’re upset. I get that. But ya don’t exactly seem all that friendly right now, ‘specially toward Twilight.”
Discord growled louder at the name.
A sweating Rarity stepped forward. “So the real question here is…”
“What exactly are you gonna do?” Rainbow finished, no less sweaty.
Discord’s scowl lifted into an unreadable stare. He chuckled and said, “Well, I suppose that’s fair. After all, friends don’t keep secrets from friends.” He lifted an eagle talon toward Twilight’s home. “See that castle over there? The first thing I’ma do is march to it.”
“Uh-huh?” they all chimed.
“Then, I’ma knock on the door.”
“Go on,” they chimed again.
“And when Twilight’s sweet, well-proportioned, unsuspecting face pokes out…” the ponies gulped, “This,” he pointed to his clenched lion fist, “is crashing into it.”
“Now wait a second!” Pinkie chirped. “You can’t just go around punching ponies in the face!”
“Let’s test that theory, shall we?” Discord replied as he marched past the nervous mares.
Fluttershy bit her hooves. “We have to do something!” she whimpered.
Applejack gritted her teeth, pressed a hoof against her temple. She galloped after the marching spirit.
“Listen, Discord,” Applejack said, slowing to a trot. “Surely there's somethin' you'd rather do than write.”
Discord kept marching.
“Applejack is right, dear,” a trotting Rarity added with a nervous chuckle. “You could, uh… uh, well… Knitting! You could try knitting.”
Discord stopped in his tracks and stared blankly at Rarity. “Knitting?”
The unicorn nodded. “Knitting.”
Discord stared only seconds longer, then returned to his march, blinking all the while.
Rarity hyperventilated and looked frantically to a hovering Rainbow Dash. “In the name of all things holy, stop him!”
With a bitten lip, the chromatic pegasus darted past Discord, then whirled back to him, her nervous grin meeting his seething scowl.
“So, I’ve always wanted to see how fast you were, Discord,” she said. “How about a race? First one to that cloud—” she paused when she pointed to black clouds that looked remarkably similar—“wins! Ready, set, go!”
Rainbow zipped away in a burst of color.
Discord kept marching, but stopped again as giant blue eyes locked onto his.
“Come on, Discord!” Pinkie Pie cheered with her mile-wide grin. “You don’t need some silly old book to make you happy! And I know the perfect stress-reliever!” She grabbed his face and spun him back toward Ponyville. “Just look at the unsuspecting populace, locked up in their little housies, holding loved ones tight.” Discord frowned in concern. “Perfect time for a prank or two, am I right?!” he raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at his lips.
A scowling Rainbow Dash zipped back to the group. “You could’ve said ‘no’, instead of leavin’ me hangin’ like th—”
Her friends shushed her and pointed to Discord and Pinkie.
“Just think of it!” Pinkie continued. “From snakes in a can and fake spiders in the cereal, to dribble-glasses and the old boxing-glove-jack-in-the-box!”
Discord smiled in-full and turned to Twilight’s castle, stroking his beard.
Pink hooves guided him back to worried blue eyes. “Uh, maybe that last one’s a bit much. But I’m sure we can come with more!”
After a beat of silence, Discord drummed his mismatched digits together and snickered. The group’s eyes brightened with hope.
“Ooh! We can even make a competition out of it!” Pinkie added, bouncing in place. “You know, like that prank-war you totally lost at that Ballroom Party last time!”
Discord’s smile vanished.
“Still can’t believe I pranked more nobles than you, though,” Pinkie said, poking her chin. “Ah, well! Maybe, despite your crushing, debilitating failure,” Discord’s frown returned, “you can come up with something more original than fake glow-in-the-dark blood! I mean, come on, that’s so twenty minutes ago!”
Strong orange hooves latched over Pinkie’s still-running mouth and yanked her away. She pulled Applejack’s hooves down.
“What? I was on a roll!”
“Yeah, we noticed,” Rainbow said with rolling eyes.
Fluttershy stepped before Pinkie with a gentle smile. “Oh, Pinkie, I know you’re trying to liven Discord’s spirit, but we have to be careful. Let's not say anything that might upset him, okay?”
Pinkie raised a brow and asked, “Was I doing that?”
Everypony frowned at her.
“Huh,” was Pinkie’s only answer.
Fluttershy stared at the ground in thought. “We have to talk about what makes him happy. And nothing makes him happier than talking about himself or his accomplishments.” She paused, then smiled bright. “Wait, that’s it!”
But when she turned to face her ageless friend, he was several yards away, marching toward the castle.
“Discord!” they all cried, chasing after him.
Fluttershy gulped quietly and took the plunge, zipping right in his path with her most pleading eyes. Discord stopped.
“Now, I know you’re upset right now, and you have every right to be,” the kind mare said, laying a gentle hoof on Discord’s scowling grey muzzle. “But Twilight meant no harm in taking your book.”
Discord snorted and moved to continue his march. Fluttershy pressed her other hoof to his face.
“She loves your book, Discord. She’s read and reread hundreds of chapters to understand you, to know you. Surely you can appreciate that.”
Discord stopped moving, and Fluttershy released his face with a smile.
“Think about it, sugarcube,” Applejack added. “Twilight’s cooped herself up in that castle for a week reading that there book o’ yours. That’s gotta tell ya it’s beyond good.”
Discord scratched his muzzle. “Well, I have worked on it non-stop for several months. I should hope it’s good,” he said.
“Exactly,” Rainbow Dash chimed in, hovering next to Fluttershy. “You’d think with an egghead like Twilight, she’d read any old book, but she doesn’t. Heck, I’ve seen her read three pages on one book, scream at it, and throw it out the window. If she’s this obsessed—enough to lie right to your face—it’s gotta be one of the best.”
Discord smiled again.
“Besides,” Rarity moved in, “if memory serves, you haven’t even finished it. Imagine, darling, outlining your coup de grace as Twilight reads what you’ve created only to surprise her—to surprise all of us—with an ending that brings it all together.”
Discord smiled wider.
Fluttershy swooped in for the kill. “Remember, Discord, I was there when you wrote the first sentence. I was there every time you slammed your face against a wall to clear your head. I saw you create art with your bare hands.” She lowered to the ground and smiled on. “Now you can show us all how you’ll finish it.”
Discord glanced at the ravaging skies in deep thought, an elbow resting in his palm. In that instant, the winds calmed, and the distant twisters began to thin. The lightning stopped whipping the earth, retreating back to the black clouds.
Discord paced back and forth, his brow furrowed in thought. “Hmm… Yes, that’s good… Yes I could… Oh, that’s brilliant, yes. I’ll… Why, that would tie together nicely,” he muttered to himself.
“And while you’re at it,” everypony shot terrified glances at Pinkie Pie, “try not to think of all the thousands and thousands and thousands of pages you’ve poured your blood, sweat, and te—ouch!” And orange elbow struck her flank. “I-I mean, knock ‘em dead tiger!”
Discord stopped pacing. “Hmm… Very well, then, ladies,” he said, still smiling. “Twilight’s face shall be spared. And outlining the end is a wonderful idea!”
The mares sighed together.
"But…”
The mares seized up together.
“I’m having a terrible time remembering where I left off. It has been quite a while since I’ve seen my beloved creation, after all.”
The mares’ pupils shrank together.
Discord faced the castle again and continued his march. “I’ll need a refresher—”
“No wait!” Discord raised a brow at the pink hooves pressed against his belly. “Twilight will need time to put the pages back together,” Pinkie said. “Try back in an hour or so.”
Discord stared up for another thoughtful moment. “Eh. Very well.” He turned away and started walking. “What’s another hour compared to ten days?”
As Discord left, Pinkie sighed and smiled at her friends. “And that, girls, is how it’s done!” she cheered. Pinkie caught the wide gawks from her friends, and her smile faded a bit. “What? What’s wrong?”
The moment Rainbow Dash slowly rose a hoof and slapped her own forehead, Pinkie noticed Discord had stopped moving. Then realized she’d never seen him so still.
The spirit turned and faced the group again. He sauntered to Pinkie, crouched down, gently clamp his talons on her head, and ignored the tiny squeak as he lifted her face to his.
“What exactly did you mean, ‘put the pages back together’?” he asked with a half-lidded smile.
Pinkie’s eyes bulged as her mane and tail drooped.
“Well?” Discord persisted, his smile but a fond memory.
“I… Well, you see, I—”
“She destroyed my book, didn’t she?”
“No!”
“Didn’t she?!”
“But… but…”
“Oh, that’s it,” Discord muttered as the winds strengthened again. “That’s it!” On that booming declaration, the lightning savagely struck the earth again, and the once-shrinking twisters tripled in size. “Her face is so punched!”
Discord dropped Pinkie on her dock and continued his march to the castle, his steps becoming cracking stomps on the hard dirt road. Tears once again welled in Fluttershy’s eyes as she galloped in his path again.
“Wait, Discord!”
“No, child!” he roared, gaining a stumble and squeal from her. “I’ve stomached this game for long enough!”
The timid mare leaped from one of Discord’s crushing steps just in time. Finally, after more delays than he could tolerate, Discord reached the top of the overpass, the remaining path only a few yards to the castle.
“PRINCESS TWILIGHT! YOU HAVE SOMETHING THAT BELONGS TO ME!”
Three balls of light fell from above and landed between him and his goal. With bared teeth and another deep, rumbling growl, Discord marched on, his pace quickened all the more.
The three spheres faded into three winged mares, each bearing their own scuffs and scratches.
“Enough of this madness, Discord!” Celestia demanded.
“We know you’re upset, but this has gone too far!” Cadance shouted.
“Cease now, and we will return your book!” Luna added.
Discord didn’t stop. “Stand aside! This no longer concerns you.”
Celestia hissed through clenched teeth as her horn glowed. She vanished with a loud burst and reappeared only a few feet from Discord. He stopped.
“Unacceptable! You’ve destroyed Canterlot Castle in your campaign!” Celestia screamed with barely-held tears. “This quest you’ve undertaken—this outrageous search for your book—has caused nothing but destruction! Look around at what you’re doing!”
Discord released yet another barking laugh, and a chain of lightning boomed with it. “You blame me when ponies, to which you’ve trusted the very sovereignty of friendship, steal and lie to their friends?!” He clenched a fist. “Who’s the real villain here?!”
Celestia swiped at the dirt like an angry bull. “That’s not the point! Angry or not, Discord, your actions and current plans border on betrayal!”
“It is her who has betrayed me!” Discord bellowed with a paw to his chest. “Did you really think I’d read that letter and just walk away?!”
“And do you think anypony’s forgotten your betrayal?! Do you think you’re innocent?!”
“Hah! Me?! I’m a presumptuous wretch who wouldn’t know how to be a good friend if instructions were nailed to my forehead, but at least I’m honest about it!”
Celestia’s lips pulled behind her gums. “You will not get past me, Discord,” she growled. “You will not harm my student!”
Discord’s eyes nearly jutted from his head. He unleashed a shout that lifted jagged, stony blades from the earth, and tripled the lightning above.
“I’m sick of your impudence, Celestia!” He lifted a clawed finger at the white alicorn. “You will stand aside, or I will move you myself!”
Luna and Cadance landed beside Celestia with sparking horns, and the spirit’s eyes glowed red.
“Discord!”
Everything stopped.
With a slight twitch of the ear, Discord’s wide, disbelieving eyes lost their glow. The alicorns gasped and turned back to Ponyville Castle only to see its frowning owner standing tall before opened double-doors.
“I’m here…” Twilight said.
“No!” Cadance yelled. “Get back inside! It’s not safe!”
Twilight walked forward, unaffected by the shouting protests of her fellow alicorns and Elements of Harmony.
Discord’s wide eyes narrowed oh so very slowly. His jaw set tight. His shoulders shook. His brows pushed together until it hurt. He grinded his teeth against one another. His breathing became deeper and heavier.
“I know why you’re here, Discord,” Twilight said, stopping a few feet from her castle doors. “Your issue is with me, and me alone.”
“Yes, my ‘friend’,” Discord muttered deeply. “Yes it is.”
Celestia exchanged worried glances between Discord and Twilight. She double-took the spirit, and suddenly, breathing seemed all but impossible. With wide trembling eyes, Celestia saw a completely different creature standing before her.
A focused creature. A creature of reckoning and creation. A creature—she had to remind herself many a time—that could've destroyed and recreated her world any way he chose.
And so, the angry draconequus—no, the God of Chaos—began his march again, and terror that Celestia never dared to imagine beat through her veins.
“Discord, stop!” she yelled.
He didn’t.
With strength and courage she completely forgot she had, Celestia threw herself mere inches before him.
“I said, sto—”
A clawed lion paw clamped around her face like a threatened cobra. Everypony gasped and stammered in horror. Celestia stared helplessly into those red, focused eyes, her neck twisted awkwardly, her breath seized by fear.
“Let her go, Discord!” Twilight ordered.
Discord tossed the alicorn aside and lifted two fingers. With a symphony of screams and cries, Luna, Cadance, Celestia, Applejack, Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie, Rarity, and Fluttershy were lifted off the ground, encased in gold light.
Discord snapped his fist shut, and all the mares froze right where they floated. Immobile. Helpless. Only able to watch and scream for Twilight to escape.
He focused his sights ahead, his goal before him, only grass and a dirt road separating the two. He began his march for the final time. Twilight stood tall and strong before the approaching deity, her wings proud and erect.
That bravery soon turned to ash at the growing destruction.
The storm worsened with Discord’s every step. Homes were taken off their foundations, mountains crumbled like towers of building blocks—the taller ones falling like fat trees. Vortexes swallowed the rubble. Land and water meshed with lightning and gale winds. Tidal waves of soil and architecture roared across the horizon.
Worse, Twilight could hear the screams, the screams of ponies who had nothing to do with this. And she knew it was all her fault.
Finally, Discord reached her, standing only inches away, looking down with his chest held stiff.
Twilight shivered as beads of sweat ran off her chin, her wings closing and tightening to her sides.
He lifted his paw skyward, and clouds funneled directly above him. Powerful bolts lashed from those clouds and struck Discord’s paw, electrifying it with eons worth of sheer cosmic wrath.
He balled a fist, pointed at it, then pointed at Twilight. The alicorn's horn glowed and hummed.
With a mighty stomp that may or may not have obliterated the eastern half of Equestria, Discord positioned himself. He reeled his crackling fist back. Twilight closed her eyes and flattened her ears.
He threw the punch, and Twilight’s horn glowed brighter, her eyes squeezing tighter.
Wafting swirls of power left Discord’s fist as it soared to Twilight; Alpha and Omega all rolled into one, hurtling toward her face, forces of Creation and Destruction ready to undo that face and start it anew—perhaps seconds after, perhaps ten-thousand years from then.
The fist drew closer and Twilight felt it. Her mane whipped to and fro, her sweat became chilled and stuck to her body. The fist drew closer. Closer. Closer.
But it didn't come.
Seconds passed. The blow didn’t come. More seconds passed. Still, the blow didn’t come. Twilight dared to peek an eye open and saw that furry arm stretched past her.
The arm retracted, holding a very thick, very well-repaired book.
Discord stood up straight, staring at the book like he’d never seen it before. Neither him or Twilight knew how long he stood there. One could say his pose would make a fascinating statue in Canterlot garden.
“One chance,” he muttered. “You have one chance to explain why I shouldn’t punch you in the face, Twilight Sparkle.”
Thunder clapped against the sky. Twilight jumped while Discord remained deathly still. Waiting. The alicorn stared at her hooves, then frowned at them. Discord waited, cradling his cherished book beneath his arm. He waited, and waited, and waited some more.
“I… I can’t,” Twilight said.
Discord raised a brow.
“I can’t explain. You have every reason to do so. Heck, just a deck in the schnoz is far too kind, but I guess that’s Fluttershy’s influence, huh?”
Discord snorted but didn’t smile.
“Look…” Twilight mustered her courage and looked Discord right in the eye, ignoring the guilt striking her heart like so many scorpions. “I’m… I’m a terrible friend, alright?”
Discord said nothing.
“I knew it was wrong, even before I knew you wrote it, but…” Twilight trailed off. “The first page told me things about you I never even fathomed: your age, your wisdom… I wanted—no, I needed—to know more.”
Discord frowned, and Twilight caught it.
“I-I’m not trying to justify my actions, and no apology could ever make up for lying to you, but…” Twilight bit her lip, holding those damning tears with all her strength. “I’m sorry, Discord.”
Every second of silence was like a stomp on Twilight’s heart. Discord just stood there, staring, contemplating, processing. Seconds turned to minutes, the winds, thunder, and misshapen earth long-forgotten.
Discord glanced at his book, then back to Twilight, looking as though he would speak. But he didn’t. He was as still as a windless summer night, and equally silent. Twilight had to physically try to keep her hoof from clutching over her breaking heart.
He scowled and raised a shaking fist.
Twilight gasped and squeezed her eyes shut, her ears folding back. This was it.
She counted the blessings in her life, the lessons she cherished each day, the friends she’d laughed with, fought with, and learned with. She briefly wondered if she’d live through her well-deserved punishment to see them again. Or, if she did survive, how long she’d wait to speak to them as her soon-to-be-broken face healed.
From everything she expected to feel, an open palm on her head wasn’t among them.
With a tiny squeak, Twilight peeked an eye open and saw, yet again, a tired Discord sitting before her, his paw draped on her head.
“You. Are so. So stupid,” he said.
Twilight opened her other eye, staring at the spirit in awe.
“And yet, you seem to find the most obscene ways to teach me things,” Discord continued. “I’ll never truly understand it, no matter how many books I write.”
Twilight’s strength left her and she collapsed on her haunches.
Discord sighed and said, “Yes. Perhaps you do deserve a deck in the schnoz, and yes, perhaps you are a terrible friend, but… You and I really aren’t so different. We both still have much to learn; me, an old soul who had spent three-hundred-twenty-seven-billion years alone. And you, a budding young leader who can turn even the worst of enemies into friends that would die for each other.”
Right then, Twilight realized she was gawking. “Th...th-three-hundr… Oh my gosh…”
“Others gravitate to you, Twilight: living breathing Element of Friendship. They acknowledge you not for your intelligence or power, but for what you’ve still to learn, and what you can teach them. They wish to learn with you, grow with you, make mistakes and become strong with you.” Discord cast his gaze aside. “Huh. Perhaps that’s why your face is still intact."
Twilight closed her mouth, her eyes trembling.
“I know I shouldn’t be angry with you, Twilight,“ Discord continued. “It seems I too still have little hiccups with… my friends.” He couldn't help but smile at those last words. “I suppose this makes us even, what with my little coup d'etat with Tirek.”
“Is… is that what you really think of me?”
Discord smiled. “Well, I may have censored myself a bit, but yeah.”
The moment his paw slid off Twilight’s head, her shoulders shook. She threw herself forward, her arms locking around him.
“I promise I’ll never lie to you again,” Twilight said. “Ever.”
He hesitated, he even looked a bit scared. But soon Discord relaxed and returned the hug with his own smile. He slithered from a smiling Twilight’s grip, leaving her prone on the ground.
He stood tall and sauntered forward, his gaze fixed on the marred land before him, the twisters that still roamed free, the lightning that still licked the earth, the black blanket that still covered the sky.
“Yes…” he whispered, taking another glance at his book. “Still much to learn, indeed.”
He brought both hands to his chest and inhaled. Then, with an exhale so slow and so deep, a sphere of light burst from him. That sphere grew and grew. It swallowed everything in its wake; Twilight, her castle, her fellow leaders, her friends, the jagged land, the destroyed homes, the shattered mountains, the twisters, the sky.
All of it.
In seconds that ball of light faded to nothing. And in its place were blue skies, free of twisting winds and destructive light, lush green fields watched by silent, protective mountains, and the town of Ponyville completely restored, its inhabitants unharmed but utterly, hopelessly confused.
Twilight’s fellow Elements galloped to her side, showering her with cheers and relieved nuzzles. Discord stood right where he was, staring out into the now-clear horizon. His ears flicked at the cautious hoof steps of the alicorn royalty.
He sighed. “I know, I know. I went a little overboard.”
“A little overb—”Celestia sealed her lips, shut her eyes, and took a hissing breath through her nostrils. “Yes, Discord, yes you did.”
Luna turned her head and smiled at the restored Canterlot Castle. “Well, I’d say you’ve redeemed yourself, but…”
Discord’s ears dropped as he gestured lazily to Princess Cadance.
“But that doesn’t excuse the grievances you’ve caused our neighboring delegates,” Cadance said with a frown. “Not to mention the Crystal Empire’s now-imbalanced economy.”
Discord sighed again. “Of course. I will have much to do after I finish.”
Cadance tilted her head. Luna leaned toward her, pointing at the book cradled and caressed in Discord’s grip.
“Ah.” Cadance said.
Celestia stared at the serpentine spirit for a long moment, her eyes gentle and... sad. She stepped closer to Discord’s side, sharing his view. It was strange—absurd, really—how she’d once always wanted his silence when he spoke. Even after he spoke.
This? This wasn’t natural. No tuneless humming, no senseless clicking of his teeth, no mumbling. It wasn’t natural and it wasn’t right. She had to do something, to say something, anything.
Celestia turned to look at him for only a moment or two, then turned back to the lush horizon. “I’m glad you didn’t do it.”
Discord held the thick tome tight in his eagle claws, staring thoughtfully at it. “Me too.”
He opened the book cover and flipped through the crisp pages one by one, closing his eyes to the leathery musk he’d grown so used to. He smiled, and Celestia couldn’t help but smile too.
Without another word, Discord turned away from Twilight’s castle altogether and walked, absently flipping through pages and reviewing what he’d written.
The castle doors flew open, and a frantic baby dragon dashed toward Twilight. He leaped upon the alicorn, examining every inch of her like a doctor out of a job.
“Ngh! What are you,” little claws squeezed her cheeks, pushing her head aside, “doing Shpike?”
Spike stopped his oddities and gave Twilight a look from atop her back. “Wait a second. You’re... okay?” he asked.
Twilight shook herself composed and smiled. “Yes, Spike, I’m okay.”
“No bruises?”
“Nope.”
“No broken bones?”
“Nope.”
“No hemorrhaging organs?”
“What the—no.” Twilight wrinkled her muzzle.
Spike fell on his bottom, now straddling the mare with a hand to his forehead, his eyes wide and searching. “So, Discord just let you go?”
Twilight’s smile sullied a bit. “Not without a lesson to share. Turns out someone who’s lived a life without friends, and one who lives because of friends, are equally naïve about friendship.”
Spike vaulted off of her, and bit his thumb. “Huh… Well, now I just feel bad.”
By now, the other alicorns had joined the group, and Twilight’s smile vanished. “What’s wrong?” she asked
The little dragon hesitated. “Okay… But you can’t get mad at me.”
Twilight frowned. “Wait. What did you do?”
Spike pulled out a bundle of paper, and Twilight frowned harder.
“See, I was so worried that Discord would hurt you, I kept a few pages from his book. Would teach him to mess with my friends, I thought.”
Everypony gaped at him.
Twilight snatched the pages with her magic. “Spike! How could you?!”
“What?” Spike said. “Too much?”
She opened her mouth to give Spike the verbal lashing he so richly deserved. Then her ears flicked at manically-paced footsteps. She turned her head, and a hurdling fist crashed into her nose.
That very moment was a moment in history that would never, never, ever repeat. For in that very moment, infants across the cosmos—infants that would help lead their worlds to evolutionary new heights—were born.
In that moment, young inexperienced lovers, who’d fought the oppression and forbiddance of their own families, found each other in bed for the first time.
In that moment, a star that had guided many a traveler across the universe shined its brightest in all its billions of years, then swallowed asteroids, moons, and unlucky sods that happened to be traveling, into a black hole.
In that moment, clusters of stars, gas, and gamma bolts meshed together in a burst that could destroy Equus two-hundred million times over, swirling and growing in a blistering hellstorm of fire and stars. Thus; a new galaxy was born.
Twilight may have very well seen these things, but was unlikely to ever remember them.
The punch forced her to her hind legs, her head turned stiffly aside, her wide eyes blank and distant. Her quickly-swelling face hit the ground, and a frowning Discord retracted his smoking fist, lifted a finger, and took his book’s missing pages.
He walked away and smile wider than he had in ten days, knowing, right then and there, how he’d finish that book.
