A Moonlight Torture

by bookplayer

Rating: teen
Tags: Sad, Romance
Length: 1116

Another Friday night as a tree. Discord hates his new life.

Discord is free. He's reformed. Celestia pardoned him from his prison.

Or maybe she just devised a new one.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-05-05 21:26:17 UTC

I Hate Being A Tree

I’ve been watching her for months. And why not? I’m not hurting her; I’d never hurt her. I don’t bother her. I just like to see her.

Of course, right now, I hate to see her. I’m also not crazy about being a tree. A few centuries as a statue gives a creature a strong dislike of standing still; but considering that Sweet Apple Acres doesn’t offer a lot of options, it's the best disguise at the moment.

Who really goes for walks in the moonlight, anyway? It’s so cliche. Exactly what I’d expect of that boring farm pony. Honesty is cliche, really. There’s no creativity in honesty. She deserves creativity, and of course who’s more creative than I am? I’d take her on a walk under the ocean. I’d show her plants and animals she’s never seen, that nopony has ever seen. Now that would be a date. Never let it be said that I can’t take a pony out in style.

Not that I’ll ever get the chance. They’ve stopped. They’re nuzzling each other under a tree, overlooking the orchard. Gag me.

When Applejack started spending more time with her, I thought nothing of it. The farmer’s motives were bound to be dull, and while Fluttershy doesn’t seem to mind dull, there’s no reason I should waste my time with it. Was that a mistake? Should I have said something then? Was there ever a chance she might have loved me?

Probably not. If I’m totally honest, I don’t think a dashing God of Chaos was what she had in mind as her special somepony. She would have blushed and stammered and been disgustingly nice about it, but she would have turned me down. And then Applejack would have asked her, and I’d have ended up as a tree all the same.

And the two ponies would be doing what they’re doing now; laying on the grass together, leaning against each other, saying things in whispers that make each other blush. She and Applejack are just so. . . cute together. Blech. I hate being honest. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

Fluttershy isn’t all that special. Sure, she’s a good friend, and the only pony who’s ever really been nice to me. Sure she resisted all of my tricks in the maze when we first met, and I had to give up and completely over ride her mind to corrupt her. If that’s all she has to offer, well, who needs it? What kind of idiot would spend the evening as a tree just to catch a glimpse of a pony like that, snuggling with the pony she really loves?

I know what’s going to happen, anyway. I know all of it, thanks to bland, boring Applejack. They’ll start kissing, soon. But no more than that, of course, Applejack is a good pony. It’ll take them weeks of dates to get past kissing, but Applejack will take her on all of them, and eventually they’ll do the things ponies do when they love each other. It’ll be boring and gentle and it’ll make Fluttershy happy. Then they’ll get married, and live the rest of their lives taking walks in the orchard exactly like this one, and doing other things exactly like their first time, and they’ll be disgustingly happy until they finally die.

I can’t wait.

I should do something.

No, not to hurt them. I couldn’t hurt Fluttershy, and she’d be sad if I hurt Applejack. Why does she have to have feelings? With a snap of my talon, I could turn the farm pony into a goldfish and watch her flop around until she dies. Then I could swoop in and sweep Fluttershy off her hooves, if it weren’t for the pesky fact that she’d hate me forever.

Why do I have to have feelings? I really do have more pressing matters to attend to then sitting here as a tree and fantasizing about equicide. I left a book on a stove back in the palace, and I doubt anypony will remember to turn it off before it turns into a shower of bubbles. Lovely chaos back at home, and I’m watching boring ponies giggling with each other.

Thanks, Celestia. That’s what an ageless being of chaos really needs. A friend. Feelings. Love. Ever think that maybe what’s good for a beloved alicorn princess or her precious ponies might not work as well for a draconequus whom most of the ponies in the world find a tad unsettling?

I bet you did. This is torture, isn’t it? Locked in a statue wasn’t cruel enough for you. When this one dies, you’ll find another one, won’t you? Another pony for me to care about, to love, who could never imagine loving me. It can go on forever, an endless cycle of pain and grief, and I’ll waste centuries as a tree just to feel it.

I tip my hat to you, Princess. Very clever.

But not that clever. Maybe I’ll do something now. Something you wouldn’t like, something interesting. I could turn the apples into fire, and watch this sickly sweet scene burn, the ponies wailing and scurrying hopelessly to fix it. They’d grab the elements of harmony and lock me up again, Fluttershy would hate me of course. . .

And I’d still love her. Damn it. Damn all of Equestria!

They’re leaving now. Fluttershy and her special somepony are standing up, and wrapping their tails around the other’s, and Applejack will walk her back to her cottage. Fluttershy will offer her tea, and Applejack will turn it down, but she'll give Fluttershy a quick kiss, and Fluttershy will blush, but she'll smile. And she'll keep smiling as she goes to bed, and thinks about the pony she loves.

And I’ll have spent all evening as a tree, and I’ll go home and reverse gravity in the guards quarters, then go to bed, like the waste of unpredictable superpowers that I am. I'll have been infuriatingly predictable all night, and I certainly won't smile as I think of the pony I love.

Fine. I might as well. Have some shooting stars, you boring, despicable, adorable ponies. I hope you’re happy, Fluttershy. I hope you’re happy, Celestia. I hope all of the ponies in this stupid world are happy with my pain and misery.

As they’re distracted, looking at the sky with awful, delighted smiles, I disappear. I return to Canterlot palace, simply glad to take my own form again. There’s nothing I hate more than being a tree.

Of course, I’ll do it again next Friday night. I just like to see her.