Everfree
I open my eyes and see nothing.
I turn my head. There is nothing.
I turn the other way. There is still nothing.
When did I awaken last? Did I awaken before?
Or was I not awake a moment ago and this is now a dream?
Why is there nothing?
Or is there something and I cannot see it?
What is nothing if not the absence of something?
Was I expecting something?
I must have experienced something before to know there is nothing here now.
My head hurts. Thinking. Wondering. Looking at nothing and seeing nothing. Painful to think.
I close my eyes and go back to sleep.
Or perhaps I am already in slumber and I close my eyes to awaken from my dreams.
Perhaps when I open my eyes again the nothing will be gone.
I open my eyes and see a forest.
Forest. Trees. Grass. Animals.
Have I seen forests before? I must have, for I know the word. Who taught me the word? Or did I create it just now, in my mind? I see something and decide there must be a word to describe it.
Odd. I am now thinking of the words. Where did they come from? How do I know them? Words upon words upon words.
They trace back through… years? Has it been years? I do not know. I close my eyes sometimes and when I open them things are different, but there has never been a forest. How long would that take to grow from nothingness?
A sound. Noise. Unfamiliar. Why is there noise? Something is causing it.
I stand. Was I sitting before? Irrelevant. The noise is louder. The cause is closer.
A bush shakes. I turn my head.
A creature steps from the bush and stops.
The creature looks at me and I look back. It looks frightened. Fear. Strange. Why does it fear me? I examine the creature closer.
Pastel purple fur. Long blue hair on its head and rear. Bright green eyes. A horn.
Unicorn. The word enters my mind as unexpectedly as the word forest. I accept it. Yes. This is a unicorn. A pony. An equine.
“What are you?”
Sounds. Noises. The unicorn made them. Its mouth moved and noise came from it. It asked a question.
So much does not make sense. Where did this pony come from? What does it want from me? Why is it here in the forest? Confusion. Irritation.
Too much.
I open my mouth and make a low, guttural sound. The pony’s eyes widen, and it turns and runs.
My head hurts again, and I lower myself to the ground.
I did not like that unicorn or the noises it made. I am glad it is gone.
I close my eyes.
Perhaps when I open my eyes again, the forest will be gone and the unicorn will not return.
Sound. Noise. I hear them before I open my eyes. New.
I open my eyes. I am still in the forest. And the noise is growing louder.
I stand and turn to where it is coming from. I see more ponies coming through the forest. Unicorns in many colors.
They look angry. They look frightened.
The purple unicorn is among them.
They are here for me.
They see me and one of them makes sounds with its mouth. They stop and look at me. I look back.
A unicorn steps toward me. It is wearing a silver crested helmet.
“Why do you trespass in the Everfree Forest?”
Everfree. Ever, eternal, always. Free, unrestrained, uncontrolled. A curious name for the forest.
“Answer me, monster!”
Monster. Insult, slur, degrading. Fear. Something to be afraid of. This unicorn is frightened of me. Am I frightening? I do not recall seeing other beings besides these ponies, so I cannot be sure.
The unicorn is angry. He wants me to answer.
I open my mouth and attempt to make mouth noises like he did.
“I do not know.”
The words roll from my tongue as easily as water. Have I spoken before? I do not remember.
The unicorn frowns. “How is it you do not know? Are you lost? There must be some reason you have come to this forest.”
Reason. Cause. Purpose. Is there a reason? For what cause do these ponies question me? Where did they come from and for what purpose were they here? Questions. Too many questions.
“I did not come to the forest.”
The frown turns into a scowl. “Have you taken leave of your senses? You are here, plain as day. So why have you come here?”
“I did not come here. I have always been here. The forest was not here once and then it was. It came, I did not. Perhaps you should ask it why it is here instead of me.”
The unicorn snorts. “Question the forest? You speak absurdities.”
Absurd, ridiculous, incredulous. Humorous. Humor? That is a word I do not recognize. Did I just make it up now, as well?
The unicorn looks me over. “You seem to be a dragon, yet you also bear traits reminiscent of an equine. Tell me, creature, what are you?”
Dragon. Equine. I look down and see my body. Light brown with two hooves, two scaled claws, a long tail, and pale brown wings with feathers. I look like them and not like them at once.
“I… am.”
Whispers. Noise. I do not turn their way. Whispering means they are saying things they do not want me to hear. But I do.
“Such chaos in his shape. I’ve never before seen its like.”
“He seems confused. Does he not realize what he is?”
“This forest is a place of evil. We should destroy him before he comes to his senses.”
Chaos.
Confusion.
Evil.
A word comes to mind. I recognize it. Thinking it fills me with a sense of purpose, a sense of being.
It is a word that existed before.
But I make a choice to give it new meaning.
I take it as my name.
“I am Discord.”
I bite into a piece of fruit. An apple. I did not know this word. The unicorns taught it to me. Where did they learn it from? I do not know. Perhaps I will ask later. I swallow what I have bitten off and throw the rest of it behind me.
Behind my chair on the floor are some strands of hay, bark, leaves, and more pieces of fruit, some of which I know the names of and some of which I do not. The unicorns brought me these things. Food. They said I must be hungry. Hunger. I have never felt hunger. They tell me I must eat, but I have never eaten. I attempt to eat now and am confused.
Their food holds no flavor for me. The apple tasted like paper in my mouth.
Are the unicorns perhaps mistaken? Do I not need to eat after all? They claim they have never seen a creature like me. Perhaps I am something that does not need food. That is why their food has no taste for me.
I consider eating more. Even if their food bears no taste, they were gracious in providing it. They are concerned for me. They brought me to this place thinking I am lost and alone. Thus they attempt to care for me. Confusing. They do not know me, yet they bring me into their city and give me their food.
Noise. Voices. I recognize the speaker and look at the door.
The door opens and the unicorn in the silver helmet comes in. Behind him is another unicorn. This one is larger than the other unicorns, with a long golden mane over a bright orange coat. He is wearing a crown. He carries himself differently than the others. Dignity. Authority.
Leader.
The crowned unicorn regards me carefully and raises his eyes to mine. “I am King Bullion, of the United Unicorn Tribes. Captain Silver Pike tells me you were found in the Everfree Forest.”
King. Unicorn Tribe. Silver Pike, the unicorn that found me.
“Yes.”
The king accepts my simple answer with a nod. “From where did you come, creature?”
“I do not know.”
The king does not accept this answer. His brow creases and he gives a small frown. “Do you have no memory?”
Memory. Do I remember? I think. I remember a time when there was no forest. I do not know how long that was. I remember times when I opened my eyes and saw water, or a mountain. Or were they dreams? I thought perhaps the forest was a dream and I would awaken back to nothingness, but this dream has lasted too long to dispel so simply.
“I remember some things. I do not remember others.”
The king’s expression softens. Caring. Empathy. “I see. Forgive my suspicions. Recently scouts from the Northern Earth Pony Tribes have been claiming the Everfree Forest is their rightful territory. We do not expect aggression to enforce the claim, as their numbers are too few and winter is coming. Yet we must be cautious.”
Territory. Aggression. Enemy. These unicorns have an enemy and thought I was one too. I do not correct the king. I do not yet know if I am an enemy or not. I do not know what these unicorns truly are.
“If you wish, you may stay here for a time.” The king spreads his hoof over the room. I look at it again. It is a simple room, with simple furnishings. A bed, a table, a chair, a mirror. “It is not safe to return you to the Everfree in such circumstance and I cannot in good conscience cast you out of my tribe when you are in such a state.” The king smiles slightly and looks me over. “And if nothing more, I am curious as to how a… ‘dragon-equus’ came to be in the forest.”
Dragon-equus. As good a word as any for a being that looks like me. I consider all the king has said. It takes time, for he has said much.
“I… thank you.”
The king bows his head. “Of course.” He looks up at me again. “The guards tell me you said your name was ‘Discord’. Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“That is not a normal name.”
“I am not a normal being.”
The king lets out a laugh. A jolly, light sound. Humorous. “No, that much is certain.” He extends a hoof. “Very well. Discord, I, King Bullion, welcome you to the tribe.”
I look at his hoof. “You are holding nothing.”
The king’s smile fades, but only a little. “Shaking hooves is a custom of sealing an agreement.”
I look at my claws and raise one and hold it out. Mismatched, but neither is a hoof. I cannot shake hooves like this. I stand on one hoof and raise the other to press against the king’s.
The king laughs again and shakes my hoof, making me exert effort to stay standing. “You are an amusing one, Discord. I believe we will need to speak again.”
King Bullion. United Unicorn Tribes. Memory. Enemy.
Everfree Forest.
Dragon-equus.
Humor.
“Yes. We will.”
The door opens and a unicorn attendant wheels a tray of food in. “Your breakfast, sir.”
“Thank you.” I raise my head from my pillow to greet the speaker and realize I do not recognize them. “I am sorry, I cannot recall your name.”
The unicorn, a mare with a light yellow coat and curled red hair, smiles at me. “We’ve not met before. This is my first time serving this part of the castle. I am Dawn Glory.”
“I see.” I stand and smile at her. “And what glory dawn does bear, indeed.”
Dawn giggles and blushes. “You flatter me, sir.”
I gesture to a chair and incline my head. “Would you stay and chat?”
“I would, sir, but I’m afraid there are other nobles in the castle that need their meals. Perhaps another time?”
“Certainly.”
Dawn leaves and closes the door behind her. I approach the food she has left me and lift the lid from the tray. Rows of fruit with hay. A great feast for these ponies.
I snap my claw and it vanishes in a burst of light.
The first time was an accident. It took me several more tries to recognize the cause was me. In my initial confusion over the matter I chose not to tell the unicorns what happened, and have kept to that decision. They bring me food every day and I used to force myself to eat it despite the fact I am never hungry and their food is bland on my tongue. Now I have an alternative to this, but I do not want to refuse their hospitality. They have been gracious to me these past… months? I think back. Yes, it has been months. Not years, not yet.
It has been long enough that I am comfortable here.
Yet I am also bored here.
The unicorns care for me, about me. They provide me food they think I need, they allow me to access certain parts of the castle as well as a village beyond its walls. They tell me the outside is forbidden due the danger posed by their enemies, but this is a triviality to me. For as I can snap my claw and make their food vanish, I can snap my claw and make myself vanish and appear elsewhere. This, too, I have kept secret. I have been to many places: temples in vast deserts, massive underground caves. I once appeared underwater surrounded by fish.
But in spite of all the wonders I see, always I return to this place.
I am not yet sure why, but I believe it, too, can be attributed to the care of the unicorns. I’m sure that if I were to vanish without cause beyond ‘I am bored staying here,’ that would insult or concern them. But I have spent much time pondering the possibility of leaving. It would alleviate the burden I place on them. I do nothing for them, they provide me food and a bed and in return I give them nothing. Even now I cannot understand why they do this. The best answer I can provide myself is that they are not like me. They are ponies and I am a dragon-equus. They think differently from me. If they knew I could snap my claws and make things disappear they would likely be as confused by me as I by them.
I approach the wall and walk up it until I stand on the ceiling and approach the bed again, reaching to the awning where I have stored several books. This has been my preferred reading spot since I began to read regularly. It is a convenient spot; I am able to see more of the room from the ceiling than from the ground, I am out of the way of any servants that may visit, and the books are likewise set aside in an out-of-the-way place. I look at the title of the book: The Princess and the Farmer.
The table of contents in the cover provides me a page number, and I open to the last chapter and begin to read. A unicorn who saw me reading this way last week said I should read from the beginning. A confusing statement, once I have come to expect from the unicorns. I have read many books from the beginning and far too often I find them boring in that format. The best parts of books are usually the endings. Does it not make more sense to read the best parts first and save the boring parts for last, when I can skip them if I have decided I do not care anymore? I attempted to explain this to her but she simply smiled and said I was funny.
Humor. These unicorns seem to think much of what I say and do is humorous. I once walked on the ceiling to get about the castle for a day, as none of them do, and so I avoided getting in their way up there when crowds came through the halls. They found this funny. A guard once complained his armor was too heavy, so I made it into cloth, lightening his burden. His companion found this worthy of laughter. I overheard a chef complaining he was low on an ingredient for the meal he was cooking and I snapped my claws to give him more. He was angry as the cupboard burst open but his aides laughed.
This ‘humor’ concept of the unicorns confuses me, I rarely go out of my way to amuse them yet they continue to find me funny. Confusing though it is, I do not mind it, as it provides me some minor way in which to repay their kindness. These diversions also afford me the chance to practice and refine my magic.
Magic is another word the unicorns have taught me, along with its usage. They can move things through the air, project beams of light. Some of them can teleport and detect the presence of others. I pay close attention to the unicorns and their magic so that I may attempt to copy them. Thus far all my efforts have succeeded; anything I have seen them do I have been able to do myself without much effort. And at the same time I discover my magic can do things theirs cannot: they cannot walk on walls and ceilings, or make food vanish. There is but one unicorn I have met here who can perhaps match my magic. Like me, he is often preoccupied pushing the limits of his abilities. I do not have many chances to speak to him, something that disappoints me. I believe I would like him if I could know him better.
I finished reading the chapter and toss the book to the awning, deciding to continue reading the rest later, and jump to the floor. The rest of the story is easy to extrapolate from the ending, a princess tired of her royal lifestyle meets a commoner who delivers food to the castle and bears a resemblance to her, so they switch places to enjoy the other’s life. Not a bad idea if the princess is as bored by her life in the palace as I am.
I approach my door and begin walking down the hall, wondering where to go. In my past travels I have found the library, the soldier barracks, the kitchens, though I doubt I would find another dragon-equus there like the princess did. With no destination in mind I let my hooves wander of their own accord to a part of the castle I have not visited before. I turn a corner and see a hallway with a curtained door way at the end. Two guards standing there look alert at my presence.
“Sir Discord!” One of them bows. “Good day to you.”
“And to you.” I return the gesture and step up to them. “What is this room?”
“The throne room, sir.” The second guard is speaking now. “Particularly an observer’s balcony.”
“I would like to observe the throne room.”
The two guards look at each other. The first speaks. “Well… King Bullion has given him unrestricted access to much of the castle…”
“Is there a problem?” I ask.
“It is just that the balconies are usually reserved for the nobility,” the second guard says.
Ah, the nobles. The unicorns that are more important than the others for reasons that, despite much contemplation of the matter, I cannot understand. The unicorns I deem most important are the ones with stronger magic and higher intelligence, but it seems the nobles determine importance by how many shiny objects one can wear and how long one’s clothing trails behind them. If anything, judging from the ones I have met, the qualities I value in the unicorns are undesirable for nobles to possess.
“The nobles. Like Sir Seasong, Sir Steamer, and Lady Moonlark, yes?”
“Yes.”
“You use that word for them, ‘sir’.”
“It is a sign of respect, acknowledging their station.”
“Guards address me as Sir Discord. Does that not mean I am a noble?”
The guard seems surprised by this deduction. “I… that’s…” He stops and ponders what to say next.
His compatriot slowly nods. “Your privilege among the castle is indeed like the nobles, though King Bullion has not officially recognized you as such. I believe this would be permissible, if you wish to observe.”
“I do.” I smile at them and bow in thanks. When ponies listen and think on what I tell them is a rare but pleasing circumstance. I had to explain to these two how I was a noble and they listened and agreed. I understand things in ways the ponies do not and so must explain my way of thinking to them. It is another way in which I may be of use here.
I walk past the guards and part the curtains on the balcony, sitting in one of the chairs provided there. Looking over the throne room there are many ponies I recognize as nobles from their manner of dress, standing in rows along a large red carpet leading up to a massive golden throne. I see King Bullion sitting there, and another pony is standing next to the throne, a mare with a pink mane and white coat wearing a silver and purple crown and cloak. The king is one of my favorite ponies here. When I can find the time to speak to him, which is so very rarely as he is often busy, he explains much to me in ways others do not. I believe the king sees things much as I do and so appreciates my company.
A noble is walking down the carpet to approach the king, and I notice the other nobles are all looking at him. I do the same and notice something is odd about him, something I cannot quite identify. I peer closer. An elaborate green and yellow hat with red trim, flowing beige hair, a soft brown coat. It is when I examine his eyes, a deep blue, that I recognize the reason this pony is different.
He has no horn.
The pony next to the throne raises a trumpet to his lips in his magic, blows on it twice, and lowers it. “Announcing Sir Woodbrook, Ambassador of the Central Earth Pony Tribes.”
The earth pony, Woodbrook, bows at the trumpeter. “Begging your pardon, but I would now be styled Lord Woodbrook, Lord of the Applewest Farmstead and Ambassador of the Central Earth Pony Tribes.”
King Bullion raises his hoof into the air and nods. “King Bullion and Princess Platinum recognize Lord Woodbrook, Lord of the Applewest Farmstead. And my personal congratulations to you, sir, for your new title.”
“You honor me, Your Majesty.” The earth pony kneels before King Bullion.
“And you me, Lord Woodbrook. Stand and tell me why you are here.”
I let out a huff and cross my arms. So much pomp and ceremony on a simple greeting. Were they merely to dispense with the titles and talk to each other as I do to other ponies, they would get much more done. Is this how King Bullion treats all his guests? Little wonder he is so busy all the time.
“The geomancers have reported a poorer harvest than expected this year. Chancellor Puddinghead believes we will need to harvest sooner than last year to avoid losing crops to the cold.”
King Bullion frowns and nods. “Please tell the Chancellor I am dismayed to hear of her plight. If she wishes I can allocate some of my unicorns to enrich the northern-most farmsteads so they might have a higher yield.”
“His Majesty is gracious, yet the Chancellor has other ideas in mind.” Woodbrook seems to stand up straighter and raises his head. “She, and all of the United Earth Pony Tribes, ask that the days be made longer.”
A weighted silence falls over the room. The hushed murmurs and whispers of the crowd cease, and everyone is looking at Woodbrook or King Bullion. I sit forward, my wings shuffling. This is not something I am used to. Has Woodbrook said something to offend?
King Bullion breathes deeply. “You may tell the Chancellor the days last precisely as long as they always have. She asks us to break one of our most sacred traditions, passed down from when the first unicorns first lit their horns to lower the sun and raise the moon.”
Woodbrook does not falter. “Yet the days grow colder and shorter, do they not? This is a defiance of the cycle of days we have all agreed upon, and for it we have watched the seasons fall into chaos. All we ask is that the unicorns keep to their duty to uphold the conditions of the Triad Concordant.”
“We are.” Even I recognize the edge to the words. But they come not from the king. The princess has stepped forward and is glaring at Woodbrook. In spite of myself, I feel myself becoming anxious. I so very rarely see other ponies angry. Something is wrong, Woodbrook has offended, suggested something Princess Platinum does not like. He used that word ‘chaos’ that ponies seem to always bristle at when it is mentioned.
Her anger fascinates and delights me. It means something is happening.
“What you call shorter days is merely the clouds growing more numerous and making it seem to be darker more often, as well as increased snowfall and rainfall. We too are aware of this. Consult the pegasi if you are so inclined and argue with them over cloud coverage and precipitation and the like.” Princess Platinum tosses her mane. “Star Swirl has kept meticulous measurements over the days and nights and their duration has varied by barely minutes over the decades since his appointment.”
“Your words will not be ignored, Princess.” Woodbrook bows again. “Be sure that I shall advise Chancellor Puddinghead to send word to Commander Hurricane to seek audience.”
“Very well.” King Bullion nods. “As to my earlier offer—”
“Begging your pardon, Your Majesty, I was not finished.”
King Bullion looks annoyed but sits back. “Continue.”
“In light of the likelihood of a weaker harvest, Chancellor Puddinghead shall be reducing the annual allotment of foodstuffs sent to the United Unicorn Tribes by four bushels a month.”
The crowd erupts into protests, shouts, insults. I feel my heart quicken. These nobles are normally so reserved and quiet, they never grow loud and angry like this. I grin at the sight and hold back a laugh.
King Bullion stands from his throne and the nobles go silent at his presence. “For what purpose does the Chancellor do this?”
“The Chancellor will be reducing the allotment so as to ensure the United Earth Pony Tribes are able to survive the coming winter. As she currently places responsibility for the poor harvest on the unicorns, she has decreed the needed foodstuffs for this assurance shall be taken from their share of the yield.” Woodbrook inclines his head. “You of all must agree, Your Majesty, that a ruler must look after their own people before they look after another.”
“You dare to tell father how to rule!?” Princess Platinum snaps. King Bullion steps forward and puts a hoof in front of her to stop her from speaking further.
“And if it is for the pegasi to be blamed and not us? Shall I presume the Chancellor will reconsider this?”
“She will. Should your concerns over the pegasi and their weather duties prove true, as we too suspect, Chancellor Puddinghead will divide the responsibility equally. Both the unicorn and pegasus tribes shall have their allotments reduced by two bushels a month.”
Silence again. My claws twitch in anticipation. So much unpredictability, so many things I do not understand. I do not recall when I was last so excited.
At last King Bullion nods. “Tell the Chancellor I shall meet with my advisors to discuss our food plans. I must be certain the reduced harvest promised to us will still be enough to ensure my tribe’s longevity through the winter. If not, we shall negotiate this further. If yes, then her terms are acceptable. But you will pass along my displeasure at being blamed for the harvest’s yield and my people being so punished for it.”
“I will.” Woodbrook bowed. “With Your Majesty’s permission, I shall take my leave.”
“So given.”
Woodbrook turns and walks down the carpet, the nobles glaring at him and whispering but saying nothing aloud. Once he is out of the room King Bullion stands again. “The royal court is adjourned for the day.” He turns and sweeps towards a door by his throne, Princess Platinum close behind him.
Since the day he found me exploring his closet wondering why he needs so many capes, King Bullion has asked me to respect his privacy. I have listened up until this point, but I find my excitement cannot be denied. I snap my claw and teleport myself onto the ceiling in the hallway behind the throne. Princess Platinum is shouting, her voice echoing down the hall, as King Bullion walks towards the doors at one end.
“This is tantamount to blackmail! They have reduced their given harvests to us three years in a row, now! The terms of the Triad Concordant are clear, the unicorns shall raise and lower the sun and moon, the pegasi maintain the weather, and the earth ponies grow the food. If they will not uphold their end of the treaty—”
“Then what?” King Bullion interrupts angrily, spinning to face her. “What would you have me do, go to war against them? Put the earth ponies to the spear and enslave them? Even as winter is set upon us all?”
“We have already sent Amore to oversee the Crystal Ponies to the north! We came not as conquerors, but as guardians. The Crystal Ponies need Amore’s magic to empower the Crystal Heart that protects their city. How is it any different that the earth pony rulers are inept and their people need stronger leaders to guide them?”
King Bullion’s eyes narrow. “These are very dangerous thoughts to put to words, Platinum. Your sister’s loving spirit fades from your heart in her absence.”
“Amore is a romantic. I am a realist.” Princess Platinum holds her head high. “We must do as I have said before and seek to secure a passage to the east. The lands there will be fertile, warm. If we settle it and claim it as our own, we can negotiate a treaty with the earth ponies to turn it over to them in exchange for a higher share of the crops. Otherwise they will continue to pressure us because they have seen that it works. What if their harvest is bountiful but they still give us less because we’ve shown we’ll let them get away with it?”
“You speak a foal’s fantasies, my dear. None have ventured to the east and returned. Yet there is truth in your other words.” King Bullion sighs and shakes his head. “Tell my advisors to meet with me on the evening to go over our plans. Now, if you please, leave me. I must be alone to clear my head of this madness.”
“Yes, Father.” Princess Platinum bows her head and hurries away to another set of doors. Alone, King Bullion breathes deeply and turns to continue to his own destination.
My head is bursting with thoughts and ideas and questions, so many things I’ve learned today that fill my mind. I shall have to seek out others to talk to about such things, if they will entertain me long enough. And I shall have to return to that balcony more often to witness more events in the throne room like this.
More importantly, I shall have to visit these other pony tribes that exist out there beyond the castle walls.
I’ve never seen snow before, at least not that I can remember. It’s quite beautiful. The spires and rooftops of the unicorn city are covered in sparkling coats of white powder. So delicate, so soft. A thing of true beauty.
A pity that the unicorns are too preoccupied with the cold to enjoy it.
I glide down the street, calmly using my magic to turn the snow into ice under my hooves. The unicorns do this, what they call ‘skating’, but they strap bladed shoes to their hooves for. For balance, one of them told me. Silliness, that is why they have four hooves in the first place. I’ve no need for skates or four hooves. The unicorns prefer skating on the relatively warmer days, but even then they bundle up well with coats, scarves, and boots. They don’t go out on days like this, when the snow is falling in blankets and the wind is strong enough to whip tree branches about.
But then, as I have increasingly asserted, I am not like the unicorns. I am a draconequus. Another new word I made for myself and have taught to others. It rolls off the tongue more nicely than “dragon-equus.” Some months ago I thought the unicorns would like to know more about what draconequus are, so I began to keep journals documenting my history and capabilities. At the time I struggled to separate my own personal self from the idea of draconequus as a species, but realized rather quickly it was a foolish gesture. I am the only one of my kind. Whatever I am, a draconequus is. There is no plural of the word, no ‘we’. There is only ‘I’.
And I quite love winter.
Houses trapped within snowbanks rush past my eyes as I skate down streets where the snow comes up to my chest. It dispels and parts for me with ease. My powers come to me quite easily these days, and I find there is virtually no limit to what I can do. I could snap my claws and make all this snow vanish. I could part the clouds and end the storm. I could summon the pegasi and earth pony leaders here in an instant, create fields full of food ready to harvest. Or I could just conjure up a feast large enough to feed everypony in the world.
I don’t. I’m not quite sure why. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe not.
I twirl in the air and turn with the motion to take another path. The castle is off to my right and I eye it for only a moment before turning my attention forward. That place holds little for me these days. I awaken, I do some light reading, and then I am off to explore the world. I have met the pegasi and the earth ponies and kept my identity secret from them. Sometimes several days, even a week or two, have passed before I return here, forsaking the unicorns to enjoy the company of the other pony types. They are so alike and yet so different from each other, a fascinating thing.
Far more interesting are the other races I have met. Griffons and dragons, yaks and buffalo, zebras and centaurs. So many creatures inhabit this world beyond the pony tribes, each with their own cities and cultures and stories to tell. Yet in all my travels I have seen nothing that can compare to me, in power or in appearance. I truly am one of a kind. These other races have given me wonderful gifts, though.
They inspired me to augment my own body.
The first time frightened me. I had never attempted to transform myself before, but with some effort I did it. One of my wings transformed into a dark purple leathery one, inspired by a bat I saw flying through a cave. My wings were dull brown and feathered, the bat’s were purple and leathery. It seemed a much better design, streamlined and a nicer color. So I changed my wing. My other wing remains the same due to a lack of inspiring wing designs seen thus far in my travels. But I have changed other things.
Where before my claws were dragon-like and scaled, now one is thin and yellow, inspired by the griffons. A more nimble and dexterous limb, I quite like it. My other claw is normal, but it has changed in the past. I have tried a hoof, several variations of claw, a hand. I didn’t care for any of them and returned to my original claw. Perhaps I’ll find something else I like for it. My rear hooves, though, one is a dragon claw I saw while visiting them, a vibrant green, such a nice color. The other is deep orange, also nice, seen from the buffalo.
I have also given myself horns. They are like the unicorns, pointed and straight. When I made the decision to do this I had considered giving myself one, but I decided two is better and also makes more sense. I have two eyes, ears, front limbs, rear limbs, why not two horns? Unicorns seem to attach an idea of magical proficiency to one’s horn, so by having two I am able to show my magic is stronger than theirs.
Each time I change my form and look upon it anew, I am filled with curiosity and wonder. So many creatures in this world, so different, so unique. I can mix and match the more appealing parts to fit my body as I like. This is one of the first things I wrote in my journals when I began to keep them. As a draconequus I can do anything, be anything, I want to be. I have total freedom. I am freedom, eternal and absolute.
I suspect this realization is why the unicorns don’t like me anymore.
Of course, another part of the reason is my changing form. They are jealous of my magnificent claw, my sleek wing. Each time they look upon me after a new change they recoil and stare, then try and talk to me while pretending not to stare. I did offer to change them, once or twice, but they seemed horrified and fled. It’s their loss. I could offer them the same privileges I enjoy but they shy away.
I have come to accept that it is a likely possibility the ponies and I are not meant to coexist properly. They are so different from me, perhaps too different. I enjoy my freedom, the power to do anything, go anywhere. But the ponies prefer just the opposite. They settle in homes they will stay in most of their lives and try to avoid leaving them. They follow rulers who follow more powerful rulers who follow yet more powerful rulers. They abide by treaties and laws and construct their world according to measurements and proper organization. The ponies fear freedom. They prefer to live rigidly and without surprise.
I pity them.
I have not spoken to Bullion in some time. The last time I did, he spat out his tea at the sight of my new body. I was saddened that day, for so long I thought I had a kindred spirit in the king. But no, his liking of me was mockery, amusement at my ignorance of pony society and customs. Where I once considered him a friend, he only saw me as a helpless, lonely being in need of a bed.
Now I need nothing at all. Anything I could need is mine to have with a snap of my claw.
Yet I am grateful to the king, for he has given me the greatest gift of all. The word ‘humor’. Ah, humor. Amusement, fun, excitement. The thrill of something new and unexpected and the joy of seeing what will happen. My days are filled with fun now where before they were full of boredom. Travelling the world, meeting others, seeing new things, has been wonderful.
I think of Bullion in his throne room, listening to nobles drone on about things I don’t care enough to remember with clarity, and wonder if he would like to do as I have. I offered him such a chance once but he refused. He said he has a responsibility to his people, to stay and care for them. Such a silly idea, responsibility. Who says one must bear responsibility for anything? Responsibility leads to guilt and shame and why bother? I have no time to waste feeling guilty for shirking some responsibility somepony else imposed on me.
Not when there is fun to be had.
My skating has taken me out of the city now. The landscape around me is a dull, flat mountain. I yawn and snap my claw to go somewhere else. I appear in a forest, acceptable. I continue my skating, idly wondering which tribe’s territory I am in.
I reach the edge of a cliff and decide to skate over it, creating a path of ice in the air. As I continue skating I glance down, and see something that makes me stop. There is an unusual sight down there, and not much that I see these days qualifies for that. I snap my claw and teleport down.
Here in the valley of the cliff there is no snow. Around me high snowbanks rise, but not here. Most curious. I look around and see a familiar face.
“Well, well, look what we have here!” I grin and glide through the air. “Star Swirl, you’re a long way from home, aren’t you?”
The unicorn turns at my greeting, the bells on his hat and cloak jingling. “Ah, Discord! What brings you out here?”
“The prime skating spots.” I gesture my claw at the ice in the air behind me. “And you?”
His expression darkens. “Unfortunately, much the same. I fear this winter has lasted past its time. Months at the least and it shows no signs of letting up.”
“And the pegasi’s response?”
“They claim it isn’t them. Princess Platinum attended a summit with the other tribe leaders. Commander Hurricane insists the pegasi are not to blame.” Star Swirl shakes his head. “No, this is another matter, I am afraid. This winter is unnaturally long and I’ve seen it coming. The culmination of several years of the days growing shorter and the winters longer. We’ve hit critical mass, it seems.”
“Oh?” I stroke my chin. “And you are here for that?”
“For a solution. I heard refugees speak of this place and had to see for myself. Look around, there is no snow here. Why?”
“Don’t look at me.”
“I don’t.” Star Swirl points a hoof. “I look to that.”
I turn my head.
A massive white and blue outcropping of crystal in the shape of a tree is growing from the ground in an alcove under the cliff. Five particularly large shards of crystal have formed in its branches. Colored gems are embedded in them.
“You think this crystal tree is warming the area?”
“No, it puts out no heat at all. Yet the snow does not fall around it.” Star Swirl approaches the tree to walk around it as he speaks. “I have also been to the Crystal Empire, Discord. Have you?”
“Yes.”
“They, too, are shielded from the storms and snows.”
“Yes, thanks to the Crystal Heart. It projects a magical shield around the empire to keep the harsh cold of the wintry north at bay.”
Star Swirl’s eyes light up. “Precisely! And now here, do you realize what this could mean?”
“No?”
“It could mean – and this is merely a hypothesis but one worth investigating – that this tree may have the same preventative properties as the Crystal Heart in regards to this unnatural winter we’re experiencing.” Star Swirl sat down in front of the tree and took a book from a saddle bag under his cloak. He opened it and began to write down notes. “And there is something else. Look at the bottom of the tree, Discord. Two symbols.”
I step closer and look. “A sun and a moon?”
“The Crystal Heart was found as-is, a magical heart carved from blue crystal. When King Bullion’s younger daughter earned her cutie mark and it manifested as that same heart, we knew she had an important destiny binding her to that relic. And now I find this tree, with perhaps the same powers as the Crystal Heart, bearing sun and moon emblems in a time when the seasons and day-night cycle are being thrown out of balance? It is not coincidence.”
“So, you must find ponies with cutie marks bearing those two emblems and they shall restore balance to the day and night.”
“I believe so. Perhaps. As I said it is only a hypothesis.” Star Swirl closes his eyes and sighs. “Yet it may not matter either way. I had to beg to convince King Bullion to spare enough food for my journey here and I’ve barely enough to get back. We’re far beyond the borders of the tribes, my friend. I cannot hope to return here with companions, not during this winter when our food is already running too low. I have enough myself to spend a night here and no more. Then I must leave or my rations will run out before I make it back.”
Star Swirl continues to talk and make notes in his journal. I ignore him. My mind races with potential. The unicorns are hungry. The winter is too long. This tree may be the key to their salvation.
I pity the unicorns; nay, I pity the ponies as a species. I cannot feel the cold and have no need for food or drink to live. But they are not as powerful as me. They will grow cold and hungry and die if Star Swirl speaks true. I think of Bullion and Platinum, and the castle full of unicorn servants and guards and nobles.
I feel an odd sensation in my chest as I wonder if they will die from this winter. The feeling is uncomfortable and distracting, and I push it aside. There is a more important matter to address.
“What if you could remain here as long as you wish?”
Star Swirl stops at my words and turns his head. “Beg pardon?”
I smile and snap my claw. Dozens of apples manifest in the air above Star Swirl and drop onto him. He cries in surprise and emerges, his hat falling from his head.
“I trust these provisions will suffice for a prolonged stay?”
Star Swirl looks up at me in awe. “How did you do this? No unicorn has enough magic to create food from thin air!”
“I am not a unicorn.” I smile wider and cross my arms. “As I said, will this be enough to see you through a stay here?”
“Yes, yes!” Star Swirl climbs out of the pile of apples and runs over to me. He jumps to grab my claw and pulls me into a hunch as he shakes it vigorously. “Thank you, thank you my friend! The discoveries I make here could shape the future of the tribes!”
I belch and a plume of green fire emerges from my mouth. A tightly wrapped scroll pops to the ground in a shimmer of sparkles. I roll my eyes and grunt.
I am regretting teaching Star Swirl that spell.
The letter rises in front of me and unfurls with a wave of my claw. As I thought, a request for more provisions, more food and water as well as some sort of alchemical device whose name I don’t recognize. I snap my claw and will all that Star Swirl asks for into existence back at his camp at the crystal tree, and in the same motion dismiss the letter.
That done, I turn my attentions back to my surroundings.
The city of unicorns is abandoned. Snow high enough to cover their houses, lights off. No pony is outside. Teleporting into some of their houses I find no one. I teleport back outside and look up at the massive castle rising over the edge of the city. With a snap of my claws I am at its entrance and push open the doors.
I am greeted by a very different place from the castle I once stayed in. The castle walls are dark and lit by fires burning on the floors. The tapestries and paintings have been taken down.
And all about me are ponies. Huddling for warmth around the fires, holding each other close. I recognize blankets and pillows and many other types of cloth covering them.
I walk among them to the throne room, ignoring their looks of surprise and confusion. Some of them likely recognize me, some likely do not. I have made further augmentations to my body since I left them yet I doubt they could question who it is that bears this form, the one and only draconequus.
I reach the throne room and push it open. Here as in the halls are unicorns clustered around small fires for warmth. I recognize some of them as nobles, but they have been stripped of their gaudy jewelry and luxurious robes. They are cold and use whatever garments they have to keep in the heat. I find a curious satisfaction in seeing them so laid bare without their money to define them, revealing them as normal ponies.
I approach the throne and am pleased to see the ever-vigilant king there. Fires surround the throne and he is nearly lost under a massive regal robe, yet it is him. I stop in front of his throne and look down at him.
Bullion weakly lifts his head and looks up at me. His eyes widen and he sits up. “Discord?”
“You look a little chilly, Your Majesty.”
My attempt at a humorous greeting fails. Bullion shivers and huddles back in his cloak. “You find us on the brink of oblivion. We are finished, Discord. The unicorns will not survive this winter.”
“So I have heard. Star Swirl studies now in an attempt to save you.”
“Star Swirl?” Bullion’s brow furrows. “We thought him long dead, lost to the storms.”
“He is unable to return, but he has survived. As I said, he studies to find a way to save you.”
“His efforts are in vain.” Bullion shivers and sneezes, sniffling after. “I should have made move to evacuate to the Crystal Empire when we had the provisions to make the journey. Platinum has already gone elsewhere with Star Swirl’s apprentice, but I fear I have sent them to their deaths. Amore will be all that is left of us if this winter ever ends.” He sneezes again. “Even now our rations dwindle. I doubt we’ve enough food left to last us the month. And when it runs out…” Bullion lowers his head and lets out a sob. “I have failed my people. I led them to ruination.”
I say nothing for a time. He speaks the truth and I won’t try and argue the point. Lectures will do nothing now.
“Why did Platinum leave?”
Bullion whimpers. “She thought she could find a new land beyond the winter, a place where perhaps we could evacuate. A fool’s errand. She is certainly dead now, frozen somewhere in the snow. My little Platinum…” He begins to sob again and I see tears.
“A land beyond the winter?”
“She thought perhaps there could be a place out there where the storm does not reach. Ancient legends speak of a great castle high on a mountain, protected by a magic barrier from all danger that nopony has ever entered. A foal’s fantasy to imagine such utopias could really exist.” Bullion shakes his head. “Yet I think it is still for the best. I could not bear to have her here with us, watching her die of cold and hunger before my eyes.”
Bullion looks over the throne room and sighs. “Perhaps this is our fate. For centuries we ponies have tried to control the chaos of the natural world, to control the sun and moon, create weather, grow food. We attempted to tame nature, and now we see how powerless we are before its fury.” He huddles deeper into his cloak. “This wretched chaos will consume us, consume me. Damn it to Tartarus.”
“You blame chaos for this?”
“The strife between tribes, our inability to control the winter. Our lack of unity is to blame for our extinction. If we had banded together we may have lived, but not now. Alone and apart we each realize how powerless we are. Ponies need strong rulers to guide them, Discord, to show them the way, to resist chaos and bring order and safety. I have not been strong enough to see my people through this.” Bullion sneezes again. “Please, go. I would not have you see us in this pathetic state. Know I am pleased to have known you, my friend, and remember me as I was, not as I am.”
I pause to see if he will talk more, but no. I decide to obey his request; being here gives me an odd feeling I don’t care for. I turn and leave. As I approach the castle doors I pause and snap my claw.
Somewhere in the depths of the castle, the food rations of the unicorns multiply ten-fold.
A gift to the king in return for the gift he has given me.
Wisdom.
The trees around me are covered in snow and their leaves are gone. Yet somehow this place is familiar to me. Not far from the crystal tree, as it were. I ponder the cosmic meaning of events that brought me here and decide they don’t matter.
At last, I am home. The Everfree Forest.
I have never come back to this place before. I wonder why but decide it does not matter. I am here now. And I know what I must do.
I have witnessed the plight of the ponies of all three tribes and seen the same patterns. They attempt to tame nature. They attempt to rein in the world, to enforce order and structure on a system that rejects it.
I make no such attempts. I am a being of freedom and power. I was born of the Everfree Forest. So it is that I am meant to be free, forever.
The ponies often obsess over this idea of a ‘cutie mark,’ some marking on their flank that designates them their destiny, their purpose in the world. I have no cutie mark nor do I believe I will ever get one. Good. Further confirmation of my purpose. My lack of purpose. I have no purpose but that which I choose for myself.
And I have made my choice.
I snap my claw and create a throne. A wooden chair, tall enough to accommodate my stature. There is no need for the ostentatious luxury the ponies place so much value on. I have seen what that leads to.
I will show them a new way. A better way.
I spread my arms to the air and pour my power into the forest. Everfree Forest, I set you free. The ground ripples and changes color and shape. Around me the trees melt away. There is no focus in what I do, no directive. I simply do. Let nature and chance take their course. New animals emerge, old ones are changed, bizarre and delightful new shapes and objects pop into existence. Spots of land rise to float in the air.
When I am done I sit back in my new throne. I am surprisingly tired from the effort, and as I rest, I take in the new kingdom I have made for myself. A kingdom without laws or rules and no kings or chancellors to try and enforce them. A kingdom of freedom and fun.
A kingdom of chaos.
The word floats to mind and I smile happily. Chaos. The ponies associate it with evil and confusion. The only confusion is their own. I am not confused, I see perfectly. And I am not evil. They think of chaos as evil because chaos breaks down their arbitrary rules. They will learn this is for the best.
I look down at my claw. Star Swirl sent me another letter, claiming he has hit upon some breakthrough. He believes there are not five gems in that tree, but six, and that this is the missing key to his theories and experiments. He believes he has found the answers he has sought.
I disperse the letter into nothingness and silently negate the spell so that Star Swirl cannot send me more.
The snow will not find me here, will not touch my kingdom. And in time, I will bring them here. Unicorn, earth pony, pegasus. I will bring them here where they may live free with me. I will show them the wonders of my powers and my new world, show them the most powerful being in the world that can will the snow away and create cities with a wave of his arms. They will see. I can rule them. I should rule them. I will lead them into a new era of freedom, full of possibilities to explore and marvels to behold.
Bullion was wrong. They were all wrong.
Chaos is not to blame for their plight. Chaos is not evil.
Chaos is creation. Chaos is joy. Chaos is excitement.
Chaos is a wonderful, wonderful thing.
