For the tenth time that day, Twilight Sparkle’s fore hooves slammed on the desk before her. She groaned a deep, rusted groan, her concentration at last crumbled to the ruckus outside her library.
“A little peace and quiet. That’s it. That’s all!” Twilight’s face fell into her hooves. “What’s a mare have to do?!”
Spike—entertained by his caretaker’s duress—slide up beside her. “Twilight. What have I been saying for the last four hours?” he asked.
“I’d answer you if I could hear myself think!” Twilight replied, shooting a thin glare at the window. Where once, the idea of ponies celebrating a cultural Renaissance was smiled upon, it only grinded the teeth and narrowed the eyes.
“That just it. Get out there and join them!” Spike enthused with his best smile. “I’m sure whatever Discord’s problem is, it can’t be as important as this. Once every hundred years, Twi. Hello?”
If Twilight were a lesser pony, she’d have flipped her desk at Spike’s fraudulent words. “But it doesn’t make sense!” she shouted with another slam on the desk. “Why the change?! Why so nice and wonderful and suddenly all anypony talks about anymore?!”
The mere mention of Discord’s past behavior soured Twilight’s tongue, and guided her muzzle right back to her book. No closer to finding an answer than she was hours before.
Spike’s arms slumped as he sighed in defeat. “What’s the problem, Twilight? So, Discord spared Applejack weeks of apple harvesting. So, Discord promoted Rarity’s latest designs to the Canterlot elite. So Rainbow Dash got his personal recommendations for the Wonderbolts. Big de—you know what…? That’s f**kin’ awesome. Way to be, Discord,” he resigned with crossed arms.
Spike nearly jumped out of his scales when Twilight’s face was sudden against his. “Don’t you see it, Spike?! It doesn’t add up! He was never like this before! Everypony still shied away from him! Nopony laughed at his jokes! Nopony woke me at midnight to ask where he was! And Pinkie Pie! UGH!”
By now, Spike was unsure whether to laugh or cry. “Should I even ask—“
“She will not shut up about him! We can’t do one thing together without Discord brought in conversation! ‘Oh, he’s so super cool!’ ‘Oh, he’s so funny and smart, and he does this thing with his tongue that’ll make a pony eat steak!’” Twilight shouted, her face darkening at Pinkie’s past rants.
Spike’s only response was a low whistle. Thus, sending Twilight’s frustrated groans through the library again. “Huh. If I didn’t know better, I’d say—wait… Oh… Oh. Oh!” Spike had to clamp his snout to stifle his laughter.
Twilight lifted an eyebrow. “What?” she asked.
By the grace of Heaven, Spike composed himself, and folded his hands with a breezy exhale. “Twilight Sparkle. You’re jealous.”
For Twilight’s inclination of all things cerebral, she was certain that hearing snaps and crackles in her head was a terrible thing. Her mouth opened, ready to disagree with her assistant like she’d never disagreed with anything before. But the words swimming in her head never came. Unless stuttering croaks counted.
She closed her mouth, and glued her eyes to the floor. Frowning solemnly.
Jealous. Many a time, the smallest part of her mind concluded that same thing. Each time, denied with youthful abandon. Each denial with a consequence worse than the one before. Twilight turned from Spike, and sauntered to the window. Watching them all. The banners. The old games long forgotten. The costumes ponies nowadays wouldn’t dream of wearing.
And there, only several feet from Golden Oaks Library, was Discord. Bringing gimmicks and tables to life. Making them dance around huddles of giggling children. Laughing like there was no tomorrow.
Having fun with everpony except her.
And for the first time in five days—indeed, in her natural-born days—Twilight realized a book wouldn’t tell her why.
“H-Hey?” Spike said, his eyes following a retreating unicorn. “Where are you going?”
“Out.” Was Twilight’s only reply.
Spike tilted his head. “But what are you—“
“Something I should have done a week ago.”
**********
For what it was worth, Twilight Sparkle was damn-proud of herself.
Sure, commanding the Spirit of Chaos and Disharmony with such authority came natural to her. But how many ponies—next to Celestia herself—say could they did so with favorable results. None, of course. And now, as she stand patiently on the dirt road at Ponyville borders, Twilight smiles as Discord flashes to existence before her.
“’You and me. Dirt-road. Ten minutes,’” Discord mocked with crossed arms. “I still think dinner and a movie should come first.”
Twilight rolled her eyes, trying to kill the smile pulling her lip. “Dream on. That’s not why I wanted to meet,” she said.
There were many things Twilight expected from this meeting. Hell, the innuendo was passable by a hair. But she hadn’t expected a deep sigh from the ancient spirit. Twilight looked to him, instantly curious. “I suspect my behavior has stirred some… concern?” Discord inquired.
Immediately, Twilight second guessed herself. Whatever’s gotten into Discord, it was clearly taboo. “I-If you don’t mind, I’d like to know.” No sooner had she said it, Twilight questioned her sudden squeamishness.
Discord smiled. And Twilight’s ears wilted as he snapped his fingers. The next instant Twilight was hit with a biting-cold chill. With a loud shiver, her eyes focused, and she realized where they were. Her skin jumped at a sudden warmth, but soon found herself smiling. Her hoof gently caressed the heavy blanket draped over her.
“No matter how many times I come up here, they always look like ants,” Discord said fondly.
Twilight’s legs wobbled a bit, the blanket weighing her down. She curled her legs to the ground, and laid upon the grassy summit of the tallest hill. She looked up at him, somehow fascinated by Discord’s tone.
“They always do. Every century. Every Renaissance. Even after all this time, it’s all the same,“ Discord continued.
Suddenly Twilight was riddled with questions. Questions she never dreamed would occur to her. And the most unsettling: why Discord looked so sad. More so, why Twilight cared so much. But she couldn’t speak. Discord spoke, and Twilight listened. Like his words reached inside her and didn’t let go.
Discord gave another long sigh, and plopped on his haunches beside his company. He stared idly at his hands. “In my fingertips, I hold the power to do so many things,“ he said, a sad smile cracking along his face. “Making friends is… new.”
More questions raddled in Twilight’s head. But one question—why she cared so much—raddled so violently it would shake her skull apart if it wasn’t answered.
“Hah. Listen to me babble on. Old habits really do die hard,” Discord chuckled with a shaking head. “I can’t count how many times I’ve come up here. Just to speak. Just to… reflect. It’s sad, really.”
“Discord?” Twilight finally managed to say. “Are you…?”
“Oh right. You questions.” Discord sighed again. “You and your pony-friends deserve the best life has to offer, Twilight Sparkle. As did those before. As will those after you.”
Twilight could only stare. She had, in fact, forgotten that she stared, and how long. “I… don’t understand,” she said.
Discord chuckled again. A strange chuckle. Empty. Sad. “Neither did they.”
Somehow, every question jumbling in Twilight head just stopped. And for reasons beyond her, she nestled against him. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
There was no reaction. No jump. No tension. Discord was perfectly still. “I’ve grown fond of you Twilight Sparkle. Of everypony, even your precious princesses,” he said, his eyes never leaving his hands. “Strange… this is the first time I’ve ever hesitated.”
Twilight pulled back, her eyes looking up to him—pleading for an answer. “Why are you so sad? I… I’ve never seen you like this.” Her lips quivered just enough to hold her own tears.
For a long moment, Discord hesitated. Then, finally, he rested his hands on his lap, and smiled at the distant, near microscopic Ponyville. “I’ve brought a lot of awful things into this world, Twilight Sparkle. Taken a whole lot of bad from it too,” he said. “You ponies are about the only good I’ve done in a long, long time.”
That remark hiked a brow. Twilight opened her mouth to speak, but fell silent for inexplicable reasons. There was a message laid in Discord’s words. A mystery begging to be solved. Yet, something told her to be silent and still. To let him speak. To let him solve the mystery for her.
“Every ten thousand years, something within me changes,” Discord began, lifting Twilight’s ears. “It grows with me. Evolves with me. As such, the world must do the same. So it had been since the beginning. So it shall always be.”
This time, Twilight frowned. Only when Discord stood to his feet, his posture proud and resolute, did Twilight shudder. “Discord, I’ll ask you again,” she said with forced authority. “What’s wrong?”
Again, Discord hesitated. He took another look at the unicorn below him, somehow seeing countless faces woven into hers. All of them defiant. All of them questioning. Twilight was just like they were. The same… yet all too different. But he couldn’t smile. Not like the times before. With the task at hand, Discord believed he wouldn’t be smiling for a very long time.
With another sigh, Discord lifted his talons. “It’s my birthday.” He snapped his fingers.
Twilight gasped sharply. A ball of swirling light hovered above Ponyville. Blinding as the sun. Streams of white converged over Ponyville like blood through the veins. Growing. Brightening. The light burst, painting the earth and sky with yellow, the swirling light turning pitch-black.
Anything Twilight was about to say, was killed in her throat, choked by the scream dying to escape her. But she couldn’t. The wind howled fiercely, lashing her mane against her face, blowing her blanket clean off her body.
The trees, the ground, the very mountains themselves, crumbled into the twisting black. Swallowed into a growing void. Only when Ponyville shattered and smeared along with it, did Twilight actually scream. She shot to her hooves, glowering at Discord, her face soaked with scornful tears. She could say anything. She could curse him. Demand a reason. An excuse. Anything.
But she could only scream.
Discord jutted his claws. And with cold precision, he sunk them into Twilight’s back, and flung her off the summit. He watched her, his eyes empty. She never stopped screaming, even as her legs kicked futilely against the force sailing her to her doom, Twilight Sparkle could only scream.
Discord closed his eyes. And with a solemn flap, his wings jetted him skyward. He soared higher and higher, until the world could fit in his very palm. And again, for the final time, he hesitated.
“What will I cook up next?” he thought aloud. “Perhaps a sentient, bipedal race with a serious superiority complex?” He floated there for a moment longer, tapping his chin. “Well why the f**k not?”
And with a wide flick of his arms, the world came undone. Earth crumbling away. Magma burning the oceans. Skies blackening, tearing with lightning. Paving way for anew. He stares at his hands again, the brunt of nostalgic memories blinding him for a time. His arms fall lifeless to his side, and he mumbles,
“Happy Birthday, Discord…”
Author's Note
Yes, another dedication to Discord. And a last minute--and brutally late--entry to Thirty Minute Pony Stories. The Prompt was: The Birthday of a Legend!
Sure, fun to write. But... Stop staring at me with you accusing eyes! Stop it, I say!
