Mind and Matter

Chapters

Do You Mind?
Family Matters
A Matter of Life and Death
Something to Keep in Mind
What's the Matter?
One-Track Mind
Heart of the Matter
In Memoriam
Peace of Mind
Mind Your Manners

Do You Mind?

It was a sleepy Saturday morning in the Castle of Friendship, that long and weary hour that is too late for breakfast and not late enough for lunch. Three of the castle's four full-time inhabitants, Twilight Sparkle, Sunset Shimmer, and Sombra, had congregated in the library for some light reading, while the fourth, Trixie, had gone out to do the shopping. Each of the three were sitting at a different table, absorbed in their books while also taking some small pleasure from being in the company of friends.

Well, Twilight and Sunset were, anyway. Sombra had been trying to read about Tenochtitlan trade wars in the fourth through seventh centuries of the Celestial Era, and had fallen asleep with it splayed open next to him.

From outside, there came what sounded like three metric tons of whipped cream exploding, followed by cries of terror and loud maniacal laughter.

Sombra shifted in his sleep, a little rivulet of drool running down his cheek.

After a moment, Twilight looked up from her book, blinking blearily as she tried to focus on the world around her. “Did you hear something?”

Sunset waved a hoof. “Not now, Twilight. Miss Mareple is about to reveal who killed Mr. Bun the baker.”

“Sombra?”

The large stallion’s only response was a faint snore. Twilight sighed and shrugged. Probably it was nothing. She levitated over a bookmark and closed Sombra's abandoned tome before returning to her own book, a set of poems by Light Lyric.

There came from outside the sound of a flute concerto interspersed with chanting and the slowly rising tones of some kind of drum. She dropped her book. “I definitely heard something that time!”

Sunset sighed and set down her book as well. “You aren’t gonna relax until we find out what it was.” It wasn’t a question.

Twilight flew up to near the ceiling and peered out the window. “I don’t see anything,” she said, worried. “I’m sure it came from this side of the castle…”

Trixie stuck her head into the room. Her hat and cloak appeared to have been turned into Swiss cheese. “So, Discord just turned the bowling alley into a giant cake. Should we do something about that? Because that Letrotski guy is very unhappy.”

Twilight shut her eyes. “Right. Sunset, you go corral your fellow chaos god, and Trixie, you go get the other— the new element bearers. Sheesh, that’s gonna take some getting used to.”

“Trixie agrees. Perhaps if we called them the Crusaders of Harmony?”

“Can this discussion wait until we’ve stopped Discord from turning the entire town into their personal larder?” Sunset asked.

“Oh! Yes, sorry. Let’s go!” The trio took off. Behind them, Sombra rolled onto his other side and continued to snore.

Twilight hoofed it up the beaten path to Fluttershy’s cottage. This was made somewhat difficult by the fact that the ground had apparently been turned into thousands and thousands of roasted marshmallows, under which was hidden a mountain of melting chocolate. She started flying as soon as she realized what was happening, but the gooey gunk would take weeks to wash out of her fur. With one very sticky hoof, she hammered on the door, silently cursing the self-proclaimed King of Chaos in her head. “Coming!” Fluttershy called. “Oh, dear, please hold on for a minute.”

Twilight balanced precariously atop Fluttershy’s front stoop, which had been transformed into an oversized graham cracker. The door opened, and the yellow pegasus poked her head out. She held a hoof to her mouth as soon as she saw her friend in a vain attempt to hide a giggle. “Yes, yes, it’s hilarious,” Twilight grumbled. “Come on, Discord’s wreaking havoc on the town and we need you to talk them down.”

“Oh, dear. Has the party gone too far?”

“Party?” Twilight asked.

“Yepperoonie!” a familiar voice came from inside the cottage. Pinkie Pie poked her head out of the kitchen and waved. “It’s a Welcome Home party! Discord won’t tell us who we’re welcoming, but they seem really excited!”

“...Which brings me back to the problem at hoof,” Twilight said.

“The marshmallows?” Fluttershy asked. “I can give you a tub to soak them in…”

“No,” Twilight said, “Well. Yes, partly the marshmallows, partly… everything else. Can you just get him to tone it down a little?”

“Oh, of course!” Fluttershy agreed. “You just wait inside and have a shower to get that goo off.”

“Thanks,” Twilight said with a sigh as Fluttershy flew off toward the town proper. With a shake of her head, she trotted inside. What sort of being, she wondered, would cause Discord to react this way? It didn’t bear thinking about.

Well. Yes it did, it carried with it rather a great deal to think about, but Twilight was very much Not In the Mood to consider whatever made the draconequus tick. It would be like figuring out Pinkie’s Pinkie Sense all over again.

Once in the shower, her mood improved somewhat. Someone (presumably Discord) had replaced the usual pegasus shower model, which consisted of a glass box with a warmed raincloud at the top, with… something else. Twilight wasn’t quite sure how to describe the polyhedral structure, but it had hot water, and that was enough for her. She hummed vaguely to herself as she scrubbed at the sticky, sweet goop that encased her hooves and fetlocks. It came out more easily than expected. The alicorn examined the shampoo bottle she had used. “Scrub-ee Dub Fur Cleanser,” she read aloud. “For the worst kind of messes. Now with— Now with added turpentine?”

She stared at the bottle in mild horror. Just at that moment, the water cut out. Twilight looked up to see a bulge clunking steadily through the pipe leading to the showerhead. A brown ooze began to drip down, interspersed heavily with blue and orange, as well as a plethora of other hues. Rather than continuing down the drain, however, the gunk steadily piled up, up, up into a trio of forms. Discord smirked down at a bewildered Trixie and an unamused Sunset Shimmer, clutched in their arms. “What did I tell you? No fuss, no muss, and thank you for travelling by Discord Rail. Oh, hello, Twilight.”

The alicorn stared in horror at the newcomers. “I was in the shower!” she hissed.

“Yes, and now so are we,” Sunset agreed.

Twilight stared. “I’m naked!”

Trixie frowned. “Aren’t you always?”

Twilight’s mouth snapped open and closed a few times, before she finally snarled, “Out. Out! I am going to finish my shower in peace!”

Discord sighed theatrically. “Oh, very well. Just make sure you’re finished before our guest of honor arrives.”

Twilight frowned. “Guest of honor?” But the draconequus was already gone.

She turned to the other two. “Guest of honor?” she repeated.

Trixie shook her head. “All they’ll say is that we’ll be ‘crazy’ about her.”

“Then they laugh like a maniac, and you get the classic hammy lightning striking in the background,” Sunset added.

Twilight sighed, banging her head against the faucet. “So it’s gonna be one of those days,” she sighed. The showerhead rattled for a moment, then fell on her head. A moment later, the entire structure of the shower collapsed around the hapless alicorn, and something that appeared to be lime pudding sprayed out of the pipes. Twilight pursed her lips. “Towel?” she asked calmly.

“Um, Trixie does not see any,” the unicorn said.

Twilight nodded. “Definitely one of those days,” she concluded.

Twilight, having managed to clean most of the gunk off herself in the sink, trotted downstairs, where several others already sat around a table. Twilight was awed at the sight of it. The table was… neat. And orderly. An elaborate lace tablecloth lay squarely atop a beautiful mahogany table. Candelabrum were placed at even intervals. The plates were fine china, and the glasses delicate crystal. Discord glanced up from a conversation they had been holding with Sweetie Belle as she walked in, and they… smiled. Not a smirk, not a leer, not even a grin, but the honest to goodness smile of utter contentment with the world. “My dear Princess Sparkle, how good of you to join us. Please, take a seat.”

Twilight, though somewhat suspicious of the chaos spirit’s sudden bout of goodwill, pulled out a chair between Trixie and Applejack. Leaning over to the latter, she whispered, “Do you know what’s going on?”

The farmer shook her head. “Ah ain’t even sure how Ah got here,” she admitted. “One second, Ah’m bucking out in the southern orchard, ‘n’ the next, Ah’m sittin’ at this here fancy-pants supper.”

“I don’t trust this,” Twilight grumbled. “And why are there two more empty chairs? I thought we were only expecting the guest of honor. Who else is missing?”

As if on cue, the doors at the other end of the hall swung open. A shadowy figure stood in the portal, mane swirling and bobbing in a wind that nopony could feel. She stepped forward into the light. “Blessings,” Tree Hugger said, a faint grin on her face.

“Ah, Tree Hugger. Glad you could make it on such short notice,” Discord said, spinning to face her. “If you wouldn’t mind terribly sitting at the far end of the table, next to Pinkie Pie, I’d be terribly obliged.”

“That's chill with me, dude,” Tree Hugger nodded. Trotting over to the far end of the table, she nodded at the pink pony. “Did you know your aura looks like confetti?” she asked. “So colorful and ever-changing. ‘S like a rainbow in a tornado.”

Pinkie smiled. “Thanks! I really like your mane!”

Tree Hugger smiled back vaguely. “Aw, yeah, thanks, man. My fiancé styles it for me.”

“Right, now that our other spiritual conduit is here, we can begin,” Discord said. “If everypony would join hooves— or claws, paws, hands, and so forth.”

Twilight slowly took first Applejack’s hoof, then Trixie’s, carefully watching her host all the while. The draconequus’s smile became more mischievous as they glanced about the room. “Now, let’s get this party started, shall we?” they said. A pulse of energy shot through his talon, transferring along the line of guests. Before any could react, the energy pulse had flowed through all present and back into the chaos god’s paw, jumping through the empty chair, from Button's hoof to Rarity's, and on through the circuit.

It took Twilight a moment to recover herself. “Discord!” she demanded. “What have you done?”

The draconequus merely nodded at the empty chair. As Twilight turned to look, she saw that a swirling blue vortex had appeared directly above it. “My friends,” Discord said with a grin. “You have been gathered here today to see the triumphant return of one who is very dear to me, the closest -- and, well, only -- member of my family.”

He paused for a moment. Was that a tear in their eye? Twilight wondered, incredulous. If it was, it vanished in a twinkling. “It gives me great pleasure,” they said, subdued, “to introduce all of you, my friends— and Twilight, too— to my own dear daughter, Screwball.”

Family Matters

A pink form slowly descended from the rift in reality, morphing into the shape of a mare. She resembled Pinkie— her coat was perhaps a few shades closer to purple, and her mane was, if anything, curlier, though it was purple striped with white rather than pink. Her cutie mark was, appropriately enough, a screw next to some sort of ball that Twilight didn’t recognize.

The mare’s eyes popped open, and the assembled gasped in surprise. Her irises were swirled purple, and she had no pupils. Nevertheless, she looked around the room, apparently able to see perfectly well. “Oh,” she said, her deadpan tone a distinct contrast to her high, chirpy voice. “Hi, parent. Um... assorted others.” She then sat back in her chair, looking around the room with some discomfort.

“Well, welcome home, my dear,” Discord crowed, appearing behind the mare to wrap her in a tight embrace. “So, how was college?”

The mare— Screwball— attempted to hug Discord back and failed. “Um. Well, it was fine. I got a ton of degrees, and got a free ride for my work in the campus library.” She grinned up at them faintly. "So, y'know. Don't worry about the tuition bills, I guess."

Discord paused, expectant. “Is that all?” they asked, after a moment. “We haven’t seen each other in one thousand years, and that’s all you have to tell me? Did you cause chaos? Do well in classes? Go to any parties? Did you, you know, go on a... a date?"

Screwball shrugged laconically. “Five hundred years ago, I returned to this plane of existence and had a somewhat torrid affair with a rock farmer over spring break,” she said.

Discord’s face twitched. “I— well, I— that is—”

“Oh, and I played on the college baseball team,” she added. “Star pitcher.”

“Ah! That’s my girl!” the chimera crowed, embracing the mare tightly once more.

Dash leaned over to mutter to Fluttershy, “Did you know about this?”

The yellow pegasus shook her head. “I knew there were other draconnocci,” she whispered, “and I knew that some of them were related to Discord. But I never thought about them having children.”

Twilight, meanwhile, was less concerned about the nature of the reunion she was seeing, and more about the fact that another draconequus had appeared. “Discord!” she stormed, stalking toward the chaos god. “What is going on? Why is there another chaos goddess running loose on Gaea? No offense, Sunset!”

Sunset pursed her lips. “A little bit taken, but I’m mostly with you on this one.”

“Thank you!” Twilight turned back to Discord. “Well?”

“My dear Princess Sparkplug, I’m surprised at you,” Discord purred. “After all, you know better than to judge a book by its cover— or a zebra by her stripes.”

“What's that supposed to mean? Zecora is a good friend,” Twilight defended.

The draconequus grinned. “But she wasn’t always, was she? I seem to recall a few nasty little accusations of wickedness and witchcraft being bandied about. A little idle gossip poisoning your mind against her?”

Twilight sputtered. “I— You— How do you even know about that? You were still a statue when all that happened!”

Discord shrugged. “Sometimes I sneak into Sunbutt’s bedroom to read your old friendship letters. Hilarious stuff, by the way. And, of course, she can’t complain— I’m learning about friendship!” They smirked.

“Besides, you’re just the pot calling the kettle,” they continued, lifting off the top of Twilight’s head as though it were a lid. “You alicorns are popping up all over the place!”

They reached behind Twilight’s ear, detached as it now was from her body, and yanked out a very surprised grey alicorn, whom they then tossed over their shoulder into a bookcase. “You can hardly blame me for evening out the playing field.”

“Excuse me,” Screwball said. “But I would like to state, for your reassurance, that I’m not really as ‘into’ chaos as parent is, at least not the type you're thinking of. I left my abstract period some seven centuries ago, and quit surrealism even before that.”

Discord’s grin froze. “What.”

Screwball shrugged, looking increasingly uncomfortable being held in her parent's arms. “Sorry, par. That’s just the way things are.”

Sweetie Belle winced. “Why do I get the feeling that she shouldn’t have just said that?” she asked.

“Mysterious laughter powers,” Pinkie said solemnly from just behind the younger unicorn. “You’ll grow into them soon enough. Remember though, with great genre savvy…” She trailed off hopefully.

“When did you get over here?” Sweetie asked. “Weren’t you just at the other end of the table?”

Pinkie sighed, disappointed. “Like I said. You’ll grow into them soon enough.”

The taller chimera twisted their neck around to face their daughter, wide and confused eyes staring upside-down at her. “But Screwy,” they pled, “Don’t you remember all the fun we had when you were young? Making clocks melt? Turning the heads of ponies into apples? Dying Sunbutt’s mane Day-Glo?”

Screwball's mouth was a thin line as Discord spoke. When they had finished, she opened her mouth to speak, but a sudden clamour from against the wall interrupted her. All present turned to stare at the pile of books that Discord had spilled earlier. They shifted and slid about at random. There was something hiding underneath them. Screwball took advantage of the momentary distraction to melt into a puddle of paint and slip out of Discord's grasp, reforming in her chair.

Fluttershy approached the rustling pile of books first. “Hello?” she whispered, expecting a chirp or squeak from one of her animal friends in reply.

Instead, she heard, “Hello?”

She leapt back in shock, hovering nervously in the air. Was there another pony under there? Or was it some sort of echo, or perhaps a parrot? “Hello!” she repeated, louder this time.

“Hello,” the voice replied civilly. Not a parrot, not an echo. That was somepony trapped under a book pile.

“Hello!” Fluttershy called once more.

“Hello,” the voice repeated. Then a grey head popped out the top of the pile and looked down at the yellow pegasus. “Can we move on to a new word, now?” it asked.

Fluttershy squeaked and fluttered backwards in alarm. The newcomer frowned. “Was it something I said?” he asked, pulling himself bodily from the pile.

Everyone in the room stared as the lanky stallion pushed himself up out of the pile of books, spreading his wings majestically right before a text on the diseases of housecats slid under his hoof and he fell right on his face.

Discord was the first to look away, and instead peered suspiciously at Twilight. “How often do you clean behind your ears?” they muttered.

“Oh my!” Fluttershy gasped, recovering her equilibrium. She trotted over to help the stallion up. “Are you alright?”

“Oh, all’s well save my dignity,” he said, struggling to rise. This was rather difficult, given that his horn had pierced through the carpet and left him tangled. “Um, hello. Again. Where am I, please? This doesn't look at all like my tower.”

“Who are you?” Rumble asked, frowning at him.

“Wait a second,” Sunset said, frowning. “Don’t I recognize you…”

“Prince Mentiad!” He beamed as Fluttershy finally managed to free him from her floor. “I’m an alicorn! And you’re a…” He screwed up his face. “Drah-kun-eh-quiz?”

“Dray-kuh-nee-kwis,” Sunset corrected.

“Oh, sorry. I’ve only ever seen it written down.”

“Perfectly alright.”

Twilight's jaw flapped. "A new draconequus? And a new alicorn? In the same day?"

"Yes, yes, it's absurd, it's unlikely, you've never heard such a thing, thank you Captain Obvious," Discord sniped.

Mentiad glanced around. “Oh, are you having a party? I’m very sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. Some force just dragged me out of my ivory tower and dropped me here.”

Throughout the conversation, Screwball's eyes had been growing wider and wider as they darted between the new alicorn and the various other inhabitants of the room. At these last words, however, she glared up at her parent in indignation. Discord didn’t even blink. “Well, I’m sure we’re all sorry you can’t stay. But you can’t. Bye now!”

“Nonsense,” Twilight said, pulling a chair in from the kitchen and shoving it right between Applejack and herself. “I’m certain that we can find room for just. One. More.”

Discord opened their mouth again, but wilted under the combined stink-eye power of Screwball, Twilight, Fluttershy, and Pinkie. They grunted and turned away, and Twilight waved the new alicorn over with only a little hesitance. “So!” she said brightly. “Why don’t you tell us a little about yourself, Mentiad?”

“Well,” he said, taking the offered seat. “Before I came here, I was reading a book on astronomy.”

The others waited expectantly. He scratched his head. “Er, before that, I was reading a book about squirrels.”

“Did you… learn anything?” Twilight asked.

He brightened right up. “Oh, yes! For instance, did you know that despite the common belief that squirrels are herbivores, they actually eat a lot of carrion? Sometimes, they’ll even attack, kill, and eat frogs, birds, turtles… even other squirrels!”

Twilight went a little pale. “Er, no. I didn’t.”

“I did,” Fluttershy said. “Isn’t nature fascinating?”

“Oh, yes! Now, I wonder if you’ve heard this about newts…”

Twilight sat awkwardly while the new alicorn and Fluttershy fell into a sort of contest to see who could some up with the most disturbing animal fact, with Applejack occasionally chiming in with something she’d seen on the farm. Fluttershy seemed to be winning.

Meanwhile, Button Mash was shifting uncomfortably in his seat. To his right, Sunset was watching the naturalists’ discussion, a bucket of popcorn in her lap. To his left… Screwball. For a being of chaos, she didn’t really look that unusual. She was just… sitting there. Eating soup. Occasionally, she would have a sip of water. Her table manners were average — not perfect, but decent for anywhere outside of Canterlot. She too, said nothing, but every no and then she cast long, careful glances at Mentiad.

Eventually, the silence grew too stifling to bear. “So!” Button exclaimed. “You, uh, just got back from college, huh? Anywhere I’d have heard of?”

The pink mare jerked out of her reverie, then shook her head, regaining her composure. “Nah. It's in a different dimension from here, about five hours to the left anterior arm of probability, sort of in one of the grimmer corners of the multiverse. Art Institute of Miskatonic U. Nice place, I guess. The weather was lousy, but there were a bunch of nice little towns nearby. Innsmouth, Kingsport, Dunwich— port towns, you know.”

Button didn’t know, but decided to let that slide. “Good school?”

Screwball waved a hoof from side to side in the dimension-transcending gesture meaning ‘so-so’. “It was okay. It’s not really a great art school, per se, but it was cheap, and, like I said, I got a scholarship for being able to handle some of the more eldritch tomes of forbidden lore.”

“Oh, you did say you worked in the library.”

“Yeah, that was a good job.” One corner of her mouth twitched into a half-smile, but her expression quickly turned thoughtful. “Better than teaching assistant, anyway. Or lab tech. Herbie West, what a weird guy. I mean, I guess it’s too bad about what happened to him, but he was kinda asking for it.”

Button paused. “What did he do?” he asked, trepidation creeping into his tone.

Screwball shrugged. “Beats me. I was never that interested in the technical side of things. But, y’know, a guy doesn’t get carried off into the night by a horde of the living dead for nothing.”

“Uh-huh,” Button said. He wasn’t quite sure whether to be repulsed or fascinated by the story.

“And then there was that guy who lived in the old Witch House,” Screwball shook her head. “Crazy.”

“Living dead again?” Button asked.

Screwball glanced up in surprise. “Nah, nah, he had a rat infestation.”

“Oh,” Button nodded, relieved. “Right.”

“Ate him right up,” Screwball continued, nodding shortly.

Button stared in horror. “And… people just let that happen?”

“Like I said, not a great school. Good sports program, though. Go MiskU Squids! Ia, ia, throdogoth fhtagn!”

“Hey, you want the rest of my soup? I’m not hungry anymore.”

“Yeah, sure.” She took his bowl and put it on her plate. “But, y’know, I guess I had a pretty good college experience. Helps that I had some family in the area.”

“More draconocci?”

“Nah, more… distant cousins. But, uh, you probably don’t wanna see the pictures.”

Button considered this. “No, probably not.”

“Cause, you ponies really don’t do that well with, y’know, the tentacles and the screaming and the eyes inside of the eyes and the rows of teeth and--”

“I get the idea.”

Screwball glanced away. “Right. Sorry.”

Button winced. “Uh, sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to--”

“It’s fine. I get it.”

She started on the soup with a vengeance, leaving Button to contemplate awkwardly his empty plate.

A Matter of Life and Death

Fluttershy frowned as she accompanied Discord and their daughter to the hospital. “Oh dear… is your friend alright?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, Lucy’s great. She’s just... er…” Screwball trailed off, embarrassed.

“Oh, tell the story, Screwy!” Discord grinned. “Ooh, it’s a good one!”

Screwball winced. “Par, no,” she implored, but it was too late.

Already, the chaos god had summoned out a collection of photo albums and was gleefully flipping through them. “Now, here’s Screwy when she was just born… and here’s her first birthday… first day of school…”

“Par, stop.”

“Wasn’t she just the sweetest thing? Look, here she is in her school play.” Discord pointed at a picture. Fluttershy looked. She stared. She could not stop staring. Her ears began to ring as cruel whispers echoed through her skull, speaking in a language that she had never heard yet somehow inherently understood deep in the back of her brain, whispering to her words of fear and power. She felt her eyeballs vibrating, about to liquify and burst. “She was the high priestess of Hob’r-fynkyll,” Discord said cheerfully. “And the filly next to her? That was her first friend, Screwloose. Her parents sold their souls to the Ancient Ones so that their family might live forever.”

“O-oh,” Fluttershy muttered, blinking rapidly. “Um, what happened to them?”

“Huh. I don’t remember,” Discord frowned. “I want to say… they went into politics?”

“And that’s the friend we’re going to go see.”

“In a manner of speaking,” Screwball said, closing the cover of the scrapbook firmly. “C’mon. I’ll bet she missed me.”

Turning, the pink mare strode briskly through the hospital doors, Discord and Fluttershy not far behind.

The atrium of the Ponyville General Hospital was cool and bright, with white tiled floors and deep green walls. The hot pink mare stood out like a sore thumb. She trotted up to the desk. “I’m here to check out Screwloose,” she said briskly.

Nurse Redheart paused in the middle of her paperwork. “Excuse me?”

“Screwloose. The first patient this hospital ever had.”

Redheart frowned. “Well, even if she could be released to your care, I’d need your name and some proof of identification…”

“Of course. My card.”

Discord leaned close to Fluttershy. “What do you think? Playing cards or tarot?”

Screwball produced a small white business card. Discord's face fell, clattering as it hit the tile floor. Redheart picked it up and squinted at it. “This is very small writing.”

“It’s a very small card. My name is Screwball, professional force of nature with a degree in the fine arts. You might know my parent.” She waved a hoof at Discord, who was reattaching their face with Fluttershy's aid. “I was the one who checked Lucy in when I went away to college. Now, I’m here to pick her back up.”

The nurse set down the card and scrutinized Screwball. “You realize that officially, there is no such mare as the one whom you just named.”

“Not any more, no,” the pink mare replied.

“Unofficially…” Redheart raised an eyebrow. “Room 27. Follow me.”

Screwball nodded and set off after the other mare. “You have been keeping to the list of instructions I left, right?”

“Not personally, no,” Redheart replied crisply. "I'm not that old. But, yes, with some adjustments according to her medical needs over the last millennium, she's been cared for quite well. You're sure you can handle her?”

“Quite.”

Fluttershy glanced at Discord, confused. “What are they—”

“You’ll see.”

Redheart unlocked a door and let it swing to. Screwball smiled, and for the first time that Fluttershy had seen, it actually reached her eyes. “Hey, girl,” she cooed. “Hey, Lucy…”

There was an excited bark, and suddenly a blur of blue. “Whoa! Hey! Down, girl!” Screwball laughed. “No, no, not the tongue, not the tongue! Ack!”

Fluttershy stared, aghast. Redheart sighed, annoyed. Discord sniggered, amused. And Screwball sat up, rubbing a grey-maned mare behind the ears. “Fluttershy, meet Screwloose, the dog in the body of a mare.”

The yellow pegasus stared, processing this. “You mean… literally.”

“Yes,” said Screwball.

“Woof!” said Screwloose, thumping her tail against the ground.

Fluttershy thought about this for a long moment. “...Why?”

“Screwloose didn’t like the idea of being immortal,” Screwball said, rubbing the mare behind the ears. “I mean, it sounds great, but it’s not all that it’s cracked up to be. Think about it. You just live on and on forever, everything else dying around you. Pretty miserable.”

“Oh,” Fluttershy said quietly. She glanced nervously from one immortal to the other. “Um…”

Discord grinned toothily. “Oh, well, it’s not quite so dull for us, of course. We keep ourselves entertained, and so do the alicorns. But if you haven’t got phenomenal cosmic powers to play with, well…”

“She wanted to become mortal,” Screwball continued. “However, given that I was just about the only one she trusted to do that, and given that my powers extend only as far as the mind, there was only one option.”

Fluttershy frowned. “Switch her mind with that of a dog?”

“Yeah. I suggested a cat, but she liked the idea of being a dog better. Anyway, dogs really don’t have much of a sense of time, so they can’t really get bored with eternal life.”

The yellow pegasus absorbed this. “So… immortality. Is this a… common thing?”

“Not any more,” Discord replied. “Let’s just say I’m not the only one Sunbutt and Moon Moon sealed away, and I’m far from the worst of the bunch.”

Fluttershy frowned. “I—”

“But that’s a tale for another day,” Discord said quickly. They glanced over to the wall on their left. “Specifically, sometime in season two,” they hissed. "Hint, hint!"

Screwball sighed. “Parent. Must you?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Discord sniffed, tilting their nose firmly toward the stratosphere.

“Your fourth-wall addiction is getting out of hoof and you know it.”

“I can quit anytime I want. I just don’t want to.”

Screwball stared at her parent for several long seconds, her expression weary. Then she shrugged. “Fine,” she said flatly. “You do you. Come on, Lucy, let’s go walkies.”

“WOOF!”

The blue mare bolted off, Screwball hot on her hooves. Discord watched them go with the sort of expression that suggested a hard punch to the gut. Fluttershy looked up at her friend nervously. “What’s wrong?”

“Wrong? Wrong?” Discord blinked. Their mouth twitched up into a grin. “Why, nothing at all, my dear Flutterduster. My daughter is home, her dog is back, and all is well with the world.” They threw an arm around the yellow pegasus. “I feel like lunch! Or possibly dinner. No, let’s just skip straight through to dessert, how about that?”

Fluttershy frowned. “We just ate,” she said. “Discord, tell me what’s wrong.”

“Hmph! If you don’t want dessert, fine! I’ll go to the ice cream dimension all on my own.” They clicked their fingers and vanished in a cold burst of air.

Fluttershy stared at the place he had been standing for a few seconds more, then turned away, her features stoic. One way or another, she vowed silently, I will figure out what’s going on…

Screwball and Lucy drew a few stares as they trotted down the streets of Ponyville, but not very many. Most of the ones they got were only vaguely curious, and the rest were from fellow dog walkers. One grey mare with a beagle fell into step with Screwball. She glanced at the blue mare occasionally, frowning slightly. Eventually, Screwball spoke. “Something wrong about my dog?”

“Hm?” the mare blinked deep violet eyes. “Oh! Excuse me. I just thought I’d seen her around Ponyville before. But not you?”

“Yeah. College. No dogs allowed in the dorms.”

“Ah.” The grey mare smiled. “I remember my old college days,” she said wistfully. “Full of debauchery, drinking, and dancing… and then there were the weekends!”

She held out a hoof. “Octavia. Octavia Melody.”

“Screwball. This is Lucy. What’s his name?” She nodded at the little beagle.

“Forty. Short for Fortissimo, you see,” Octavia said. “So, you’re just back from college?”

“Yep.”

“Been away long?”

“A good thousand years.”

Octavia paused. “Do you mean that… literally?”

“Yeah. You might know my parent, the spirit of chaos and disharmony?”

The grey mare stopped midstride. “Discord. You’re… Discord’s daughter.”

Screwball screwed her eyes shut. Dammit, Par! I’m trying to make friends here! Why couldn’t you have been something normal, like a hippie, or a creepy janitor?

“That,” Octavia said slowly, “is brill.”

Wait. What? ***Screwball.exe_has_encountered_a_fatal_error***Redo_From_Start*** “Brill… that’s… good? Right?” she asked.

Octavia nodded, grinning broadly. “I’ll be honest, I wasn’t much a fan of theirs at first,” she admitted. “I mean, they did turn all my catgut strings into actual cats, and turned my tail hair into bowstrings.”

Screwball winced. “Oh. Uh. Sorry about that.”

“Ooh, I wanted to give them a punch right up the hooter, and no mistake!” A flash of some old vicious emotion crossed Octavia’s features for a second, and then was gone. “Ahem. Excuse me. Anyway, the second time they got out wasn’t much better. Not at first, at any rate. Then, once Fluttershy managed to reform them a tad, well, they became more amusing than anything.” She grinned. “I particularly liked the grand cloud ballet they put on for Fluttershy’s birthday.”

Screwball massaged her brow. “Oh. My. Nyarlathotep. And they claim they aren’t in love with her.”

Octavia punched her lightly on the shoulder. “I know! The whole town has a betting pool on who’s finally gonna confess, and when. Personally, my money’s on Discord in ten years. The wife says Fluttershy, on her deathbed, but that’s Vinyl for you. Sweet, but a tad... y’know. Her idea of Romance involves windswept moors and ghosts.”

Screwball considered this. “Where can I sign up for this pool?”

“Pinkie Pie is running it. She’ll be at Sugarcube Corner, I think. Even if she’s not, you ought to go see it. They’ve got brilliant pastries. Oh, and there it is!”

Screwball turned her head. Screwball stared. Screwball’s lip twisted. “My par’s work, I take it?”

“No, it’s always been like that,” Octavia said, smiling cheerfully. “Anyhow, I’d best get gone. Vinyl’s probably wondering where I’ve got to. Nice to meet you, Screwball!”

The pink mare watched Octavia go. Her lips twitched up in a smile. “Nice to meet you, too, Octavia,” she said softly.

Sugarcube Corner. Tacky name, tacky decor, but if what Octavia said was true, there would be some good food, as well as a betting pool and a mare who had earlier attracted Screwball’s attention. “What do you think, Lucy?”

“Woof!” said Screwloose, her tongue lolling happily.

Screwball smiled thinly. “In we go, then.”

There was a faint chime as they entered the shop. Screwball glanced around. The interior was marginally less cheesy than the exterior, at least. More importantly, however, the smell of fresh pastries was overwhelming and delicious. A frizzy-maned pink mare stood at the counter, clad in apron and toque. Her face lit up brilliantly when she recognized the customer. Or possibly that was her normal expression. “Hi, Screwy!” she called, waving her over to the counter. “Who’s your friend?”

A slim smile crossed Screwball’s face once more. “This is Screwloose. She’s my dog.”

“Woof!” said Screwloose.

Pinkie considered this for a moment. Then she grinned. “Okie-dokie-lokie!” she said. “Oo’s a good puppy, den. Oo is it? Is it you? Yes it is! Yes it is!”

Screwloose’s tail thumped firmly on the floor several times. “So, is this your bakery?” Screwball asked, glancing around. It certainly seemed to suit the mare’s personality.

“No, I just work here,” Pinkie replied. “The Cakes own the bakery.”

“The Cakes?”

“Yup! Mr. and Mrs. Cake, and the twins. Well, the twins don’t actually own the bakery, they’re too little. But they might one day!”

“Hm.” Screwball trotted over to the counter, absently dropping Lucy’s leash. “What would you recommend I try?”

“We~ll,” Pinkie said thoughtfully.

Screwball’s ears pricked up as she heard a distant trumpet fanfare. Pinkie opened her mouth once more, much wider now. Screwball’s eyes went wide as the mare began to sing…

The-e-e-re’s a lot of options on display, I hope that all will please!

We’ve got cakes made with chocolate frosting, we’ve got cakes made with cream cheese.

We’ve got cupcakes by the dozen and cookies by the gross

But I’ll search them all to find the treat that you would like the most...AH!

What would suit your palate best? Chocolate, vanilla, or fruit?

We’ve got berries from a hundred plants, and a good few more to boot.

You can eat ‘em raw, or in a pie, or with fresh cream more-ova!

But the way I think they taste the best is in a nice Pavlova!

We’ve got croissants, if you’d prefer, or eclairs filled with cream,

Napoleons and elephant ears, both taste like a dream!

Or if you would prefer it, I’ll rustle up some pies,

Choose your favorite filling, or else it’s a SURPRISE!

Try the cinnamon rolls, this morning all baked fresh.

Eat it with a maple cupcake 'cause the flavors really mesh!

There are cookies oatmeal raisin or cookies chocolate chip

Pink or yellow lemonade! Here, come and have a sip.

That’s all that’s on the menu, that’s all we have today,

I hope that you will buy something before you go on your way!

For we’ve cupcakes by the dozen and cookies by the gross

But the thing that I’d like most of all is to find what you would like the most.

There was a long moment of silence. “Uh… did you just come up with that?” Screwball asked.

Pinkie beamed. “Mhm!”

“I… wow.” She let out a light exhalation. “Jeez. I’m, you know, the personification of raw creative force and everything, but…Yog-Sothoth. That was impressive. I’ll have that maple cupcake you mentioned, I guess?”

“Okie-dokie!” Pinkie chirped. “Oh! Hi, Mrs. Cake.”

The rotund blue mare that had just exited the kitchen smiled warmly at the exuberant pink mare. “Hello, Pinkie. Made a new friend?” She suddenly fell silent at the sight of a grey tail sticking out from beneath a table.

Screwball smiled. It was a tight, slightly forced smile, but the effort was there. “Nice to meet you, ma’am,” she said with a nod. The smile grew more forced when the other mare didn’t respond. “Is… something wrong?”

Mrs. Cake’s face was a picture. Her emotions engaged in battle royale across her features. At length, her face as ashen as a fireplace, she whispered hoarsely, “Please leave my bakery.”

Screwball’s brow narrowed in confusion. “Why? What’s—” she followed the elder mare’s line of sight to Screwloose, who was sniffing at the trashcan, her leash dragging behind her. Her tail was wagging fiercely. “Oh,” said Screwball. “Ohh… Okay. Yeah, that’s my bad. I should’ve figured there would be a ‘No Dogs Allowed’ rule anywhere food is being sold. Sorry, I’ll go tie her up outside.”

Mrs. Cake’s face contorted. “In… public?” she gaped.

Screwball blinked. “Well… yeah. Are there any leash laws I should know about?”

“I— I—” The blue mare’s face went bright pink. She looked over at her employee for support. “Pinkie?”

The pink pony cocked her head thoughtfully. “...Nope! But there is a speed limit for tortoises, and something about not allowing rabbits to buy blunt instruments. Also something about arming bears? But, nope, nothing much about puppies. Does she want a biscuit?”

Screwball nodded. “That’d be good. Something with peanut butter. No—”

“No chocolate, I know,” Pinkie said. “Hoooold on.” She swooshed into the kitchen, leaving Cup Cake alone with Screwball and Lucy.

The rotund baker eyed the two. Screwball nodded. “I’ll get her tied up,” she promised. “Hey, Lucy! Luuucy.”

The grey-maned mare’s head popped up, her tongue lolling. “Come, girl! Come on. Come on!” the pink mare crooned, backing toward the door. Screwloose turned tail and galloped toward her mistress. Together, they trotted out the door. Mrs. Cake shuddered and trotted quickly toward the stairs. Carrot could come deal with this. She needed to lie down for an hour or two.

Something to Keep in Mind

The midsummer sun beat down mercilessly as Applejack and Mentiad as they made their way to Sweet Apple Acres. When they had left Fluttershy’s cottage, Mentiad had been asking endless questions about what kind of apples Applejack grew (lots), what her favorite apple was (honeycrisp), what sort of fertilizers they used (mainly hog manure), and plenty of other fruit-related questions besides.

Applejack had borne all that with equanimity. It wasn’t often she encountered a pony (at least, one outside of her own family) who was actually eager to hear all her opinions on apples, and was capable of replying with their own. He felt that applesauce was improved greatly through the addition of flavored gelatin, which Applejack was simultaneously disgusted and intrigued by. They both agreed that red delicious apples were disgusting and a terrible misnomer. He was very interested in Applejack’s account of her family history.

She liked talking to Mentiad. Even if she had only just met him, he was earnest, frank, and an excellent listener. However, about halfway up the path to the house, it struck her that he had become much more of a listener in this conversation. She glanced back and frowned. The alicorn was all but panting, sweat matting his brow. “Y’all alright there, sugarcube?”

He smiled, but it was tinged with desperation. “Me? Oh, yeah. Fine.” He licked his lips with a dry tongue. “Little thirsty, that’s all.”

She gave him the once-over. His hooves were shaking, and his coat was dark with sweat. She didn’t need to have mysterious honesty powers to know he was lying. But if he wanted to truck on regardless, far be it from her to stop him. “Iffin y’all say so,” she said, turning around and trotting onwards. She glanced back every few minutes, and Mentiad just kept drooping more and more. Surely the heat wasn’t that bad?

Finally, she looked back to see him leaned up against a tree, tongue lolling as he gasped for air. She trotted back quickly and helped him sit down. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright, sugarcube,” Applejack assured him. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t get along well with the outdoors,” he said, looking quite miserable. “I’m not good at coping with the heat, I don’t actually get much exercise, and I’m allergic to pollen. I actually can’t breathe through my nose right now.”

Applejack blinked. “Then why in the Sam Hill did you ask to come here?”

He shrugged. “I like apples.”

Applejack smacked her forehead. “That ain’t no reason to--” She paused and huffed. “Kin you do that fancy-pants flash teleport?”

“I suppose so. I’ve never really worked out how it’s meant to work. The mechanism seems utterly unscientific.”

“Ah expect that’s prob’ly because it’s magic,” Applejack said drily.

“Magic is just another word for science we haven’t learned about yet,” he said, quite primly.

“Look, yer highness, jes’ get us up to th’ house.”

“Highness?” Mentiad frowned. “Is that in reference to the fact that I’m tall, or…”

Applejack gave him a Look. He squeaked, and they both vanished in a flash of light.

“Dear Celestia,” Twilight began, pacing. “You don’t think that sounds too informal, do you? Is ‘Princess Celestia’ more correct?”

Sunset shrugged. “Heck if I know.”

“Trixie believes that your language is fine.”

“In my day, we would have begun with a formal hailing,” Sombra said, setting aside his quill. “But I believe that may have gone out of style.”

“Why haven’t you managed to get this figured out already?” Sunset asked. “I mean, you’ve been a princess for, like, years.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Twilight replied irritably. “It’s a situational thing. Am I writing to the Sun Princess, to my old mentor, or my friend? Oh, leave it in, time is the most important thing right now. Anyway, I am writing to inform you of an unexpected development in Ponyville. Today, Discord threw a party to celebrate the return of their daughter, whom nopony had heard of until this point. In addition to her arrival, a new alicorn has…” she broke off, stymied.

“Appeared?” Trixie suggested. “Been summoned? Been pulled out of your ear? That was a nice touch, I thought, even if it was unintentional.”

Both Twilight and Sunset stirred slightly at the unexpected use of the first-pony pronoun, but made no fuss. “Appeared seems fine to me,” Sombra said, picking up his quill again to continue writing.

“Alright,” Twilight sighed. “Appeared. He claims to be the embodiment of ordered mind. Any advice or experiences you have with either of these individuals would be more than welcome. Yours, Twilight Sparkle.”

“Alright, Trix. Send it,” Sunset said, rolling up the scroll and tossing it to the blue mare. Trixie scrunched up her face as her horn flashed out a teleport spell.

“Woo! That’s a rush!” the unicorn said, her eyes slightly unfixed. Sombra regarded her with open concern.

“How long do you think it’ll take for her to reply?” Twilight asked, drawing nervous little circles on the floor with a hoof. “Will she know about them? What if they’re dangerous? What if—”

Sunset sighed, rolled her eyes, and exploded like a particularly temperamental batch of napalm. Twilight fell silent, Sombra shrieked slightly, and Trixie blinked herself awake once more. “Now that I’ve got your attention,” Sunset said idly, reforming out of the ashes, “perhaps I can persuade you to freakin’ cool your tits.”

“I— well, I—” Twilight stuttered. “What if they’re dangerous?”

Sunset’s expression would have fused hydrogen. “Really, Twilight? The overenthusiastic nerd and the laconic art student are a threat to Equestria? How, exactly?”

“I… I don’t know…” Twilight admitted. “On the other hand, the town has been destroyed by less likely suspects, hasn’t it?”

“Pinkie Pie clones,” Trixie nodded. “Armed bears, grumpy trees, misfired sonic screwdrivers.”

“If the pink one is descended of Discord, that especially is cause for caution,” Sombra agreed. “Though I cannot say that I feel the same way about the alicorn.”

“Reasonable points,” Sunset conceded. “But Twilight, did you ever write asking Celestia for help with any of those problems? Even most of Discord’s horseapples?” She raised her eyebrows. Twilight squirmed.

“Well… no…”

“Did you write her asking for help when I went crazy?” Sunset continued.

“No, but she was already in town when that happened. What was that about, by the way? That… Mentiad? He seemed to recognize you.”

Sunset shrugged. “Yeah, we met while I was wandering around the higher dimensions after the whole, y’know, incident. He seems pretty harmless. He wouldn't hurt a fly, but he might keep it in a jar to study its digestive enzymes and forget to feed it.”

“And for a being of chaos, Screwball seemed pretty tame,” Trixie agreed.

Twilight stepped back, her mouth flapping open and closed like a fish out of water. “Okay, fine. Even if they aren’t dangerous — IF — then surely Celestia would want to know more about new allies, wouldn’t she?”

Sunset opened her mouth to retort, but paused. “Fair point, well made. Okay, what about this? You want to know if they’re a danger or not, why don’t you go hang out with them?”

Twilight stared. “Sunset.”

“Twilight,” Sunset replied, a smile twitching over her face.

“Trixie!” shouted Trixie. The others stopped to stare at her. “What? Trixie likes the sound of her name.”

“...Sombra,” said Sombra, who didn't really like being left out.

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine. But I can’t watch both of them at once. I’m willing to keep an eye on Screwball if you go watch Mentiad. Sombra, you’re coming with me.”

Sunset grinned. “Alright, why not?”

“And what about Trixie? Is she merely meant to stay home like a patient dog, slobbering at the door?”

“Yeah, sort of,” Sunset replied with a smirk. “Try not to get drool on my stuff, alright? But feel free to chew up Twilight’s slippers.”

“Hardee-har-har,” Trixie said, glaring at the draconequus. Sunset winked and blew the stage magician a kiss, then vanished in a puff of smoke.

Trixie turned beetroot-red as Twilight raised a brow. “Listen, your relationship with Sunset is none of my business…”

“Correct. It is not. Trixie must go… over there. To do something. Bye.”

Twilight chuckled as Trixie hurried off. “Alright. C’mon, Sombra. We’ve got a chaos goddess to find.”

“Oh. Goodie,” Sombra said, trudging after Twilight.

The library fell silent for a long moment. The only disturbance was a fly, buzzing softly across the room, wandering aimlessly. In another moment, it burst into flame as Celestia flash-teleported into the library, her coat even paler than usual. “Who’s come back?” she squawked.

Big Macintosh walked into the kitchen, intending to make herself a peanut butter sandwich for lunch. There was a flash of light, and suddenly Applejack was standing on the kitchen table while a grey alicorn scrambled for purchase on top of the refrigerator. Big Macintosh exited the kitchen.

Mentiad finally lost his grip on the fridge and fell to the ground. “Ow.”

Applejack sighed and hopped off the table. “Might wanna look into practicin’ yer teleports a li’l more, sugarcube.”

“Good plan,” Mentiad agreed, lying back. “Do you mind if I just sort of lie here for a little bit? Because there are actually quite a few little stars that are just sort of spinning right around my head, and I’m quite sure--”

Applejack hauled him upright. “C’mon,” she said firmly. “Ah’ll put ya on th’ couch.”

“Don’t want to be trouble,” Mentiad murmured, stumbling along behind her.

“Then ya won’t wanna collapse in th’ middle of mah kitchen,” Applejack said sternly. She sat him on the green sofa. “Ah’ll getcha somethin’ to drink. You want water? Milk? Apple juice?”

“Juice, please,” he said.

“Ah’ll be right back.”

Mentiad lay there for a moment, brow furrowed. “Howdy.”

He cracked open an eyelid. A muscular yellow mare was standing over him. “Oh, hello,” he said. “I’m Mentiad.”

She blinked. “Ah know. Ah was at Fluttershy’s house.”

“Oh.” He squinted. “Oh, yes, um…”

“Apple Bloom. Whatchoo doin’ on th’ couch?”

“Restin’,” Applejack said, returning with a glass of juice. “Apparently, he ain’t quite used to th’ great outdoors.”

“Allergies,” Mentiad clarified.

Bloom brightened. “Oh, yeah! Ah kin help with that!”

“Apple Bloom,” Applejack warned.

“Ah’m a qualified alchemist, potioneer, and herbalist,” Apple Bloom barrelled on. “Ah kin whip y’all up a real dandy allergy cure.”

“Apple Bloom, you will not--”

“Could you?” Mentiad said, eyes wide and hopeful. “Could you really? That sounds really--” he scrunched up his face. “WAH-CHOO!”

Outside, a bolt of lightning struck the grain silo. The two sisters were silent. Applejack cleared her throat. “Might be a coincidence.”

“WAH-CHOO!”

A bright flash of blue lit the house. Apple Bloom peered out the window and winced. “Ooh, that’s a limb that ain’t gonna see spring again.”

Applejack drew a long breath in through her nose and let it out in a huff. “Fine. Make with th’ potion. Ah’ll be gettin’ some tissues fer our guest.”

Apple Bloom grinned at Mentiad. “Don’t worry. Ah’ll make sure ya feel better real soon.”

Mentiad smiled at the young mare. It was so kind of her to take this trouble, no matter what the chill running up and down his spine tried to tell him.

What's the Matter?

Twilight made her way down the dirt roads of Ponyville with all the calm that she could muster. Sombra trailed after her like a lost puppy. So there was a being of pure chaos roaming the streets. Fine. That was nothing new. Discord was, at least these days, a mild irritation at worst, and Sunset was actively benevolent most of the time. Chaos no longer fazed Twilight. What irked her now was the fact that there was a new element in Ponyville that she knew almost nothing about. She knew everybody in Ponyville, not just everypony, by name, occupation, age, pronouns, and which book they’d most recently checked out.

Caramel, confectioner and odd-jobs stallion, 36 years old, he/him/his, A Brief History of Thyme by Saffron Hibiscus.

Lily Valley Bouquet, florist and gossip hub, 33 years old, she/her/hers, Their Eyes Were Watching You: A Guide to Government Agencies and their Spies by Zora Zealous (currently five days overdue.)

Lyra Heartstrings, xenobiologist, cryptozoologist, and musician, 34 years old, she/her/hers, Revenge Between the Rivers: A Mystery of Brook Sparkle by Apple Core.

And now there was a gap in her knowledge. Two gaps, actually. It chewed at her stomach like a toothless alligator.

But! That would soon be rectified. She would learn. She would understand. She would add these newcomers to her network of friends and other relationships. Be it as friends, foes, or anything else, they would become part of her collective!

She caught herself, shaking her head. These intrusive thoughts were becoming increasingly common, and increasingly worrisome. There were times, when she closed her eyes, that she could almost see her friends and acquaintances in a sort of web, thin strings connecting everypony she knew to everypony else she knew. But now was not the time for that. Now was the time for finding a draconequus.

Twilight breathed in slowly and let it back out in a short pant. She looked up. Without even realizing it, she'd made her way to Sugarcube Corner. Well, a chaos spirit being here made as much sense as anything, particularly if Screwball shared her parent’s love of all things sugary. There also appeared to be a loose rope tied to the lamppost outside which was, if not actually chaotic, a little unusual. She stopped abruptly, and Sombra stumbled over his hooves in an effort not to bump into her.

The dark unicorn glanced up at the building and grimaced. “Here? Must we?” he asked. He liked Sugarcube Corner well enough; the food was delicious, and Pinkie Pie could make even him crack a smile. Unfortunately, he always got the feeling that there was something in there judging him, watching him, telling him how badly he stuck out. “I don't think Mrs. Cake likes me,” he said lamely. The alicorn did not reply.

Twilight took one more moment to gather her thoughts, then pushed open the door and trotted inside. Pinkie was at the counter, and Pound was busily sweeping the floor of the bakery. A few Ponyville residents sat scattered around the shop; over milkshakes, Thunderlane and Flitter stared adoringly into one another's eyes, while Cloudchaser rolled her own. Octavia pored over a piece of sheet music while making short work of a plate of cookies. Cranky Doodle was munching on a slice of chocolate silk pie, quite content. And sitting at a booth by herself, Screwball stared into space, sipping on a lemonade, a large cupcake sitting on a napkin in front of her.

Twilight nodded subtly at the chaos spirit, indicating to Sombra that they should go over to her. The large unicorn merely stared back blankly. Twilight inclined her head a tad more insistently. Sombra leaned in. “Have you a crick in your neck?” he hissed softly.

Twilight rolled her eyes and stormed over to Screwball’s booth.

The pink mare blinked as a fairly grouchy-looking purple alicorn imposed herself right in her line of sight. She was followed by a black unicorn with the frame of a wrestler, the teeth of a carnivore, and the disposition of a scholar being forced to put down his books and interact with other living beings. “Hello,” Screwball said, cautiously setting down her lemonade.

It was as though a switch had been thrown. Twilight’s face lit up, and suddenly she was all smiles. “Hi, Screwball. How are you?”

Screwball considered this for a moment. “I’m well enough, thank you,” she decided at last. “How are you?”

“Me?” Twilight laughed. It was a very long, very fake laugh. “I’m just great. I just wanted to come by and get to know you a little better! We didn’t really talk at the party, after all.”

“Very good of you,” Screwball said. “Won’t you introduce me to your friend first, though? I don't believe we've formally met.”

The big black unicorn made a soft noise that was meant to convey that it was alright really, there was no bother, and could they please just leave him alone? Twilight was remorseless. “Screwball, this is Sombra, my chief political advisor. Sombra, this is Screwball, Discord’s daughter.”

Sombra inclined his head and murmured, “Pleased to meet you.” His voice, Screwball thought, was nice. Gravelly and smooth all at once, like a pebble beach.

“And you,” she replied, extending a hoof. “Curious. The last I heard of you, you were a cruel tyrant who had died cursing his kingdom.”

Sombra froze. “Er…”

“You can tell me later,” Screwball said, shaking his unresisting hoof. “Was there anything in particular that you wanted to discuss with me, Twilight? Things to do with the spreading of chaos, the destruction of sanity, the end of the world?”

Twilight went pink. “What makes you--”

“Please. I know my parent’s reputation.”

“Hm. Fair enough,” Twilight said. “But no, not really. You haven’t started anything as far as I can tell, so I just sent a letter to Princess Celestia detailing your arrival. Other than that, I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt.”

“Thanks ever so much,” Screwball said drily.

Twilight chose to let that shot pass. “Really, I am just here to learn a little more about you,” she said. “We didn’t talk at all at Fluttershy’s, and, y’know, immortals are a pretty rare breed. I’d like to get to know you.”

Screwball studied the other mare, then nodded slowly. “Alright. What do you want to know?”

Twilight blanked. She glanced at Sombra. “Er…” he said. “Start from the beginning, I suppose.”

“Alright. My birth.” She sat up a little straighter and cleared her throat. “I sprang from Par’s mind, fully formed, at a physical age of about ten or so. In my left hoof, I held a bucket of paint. In my right, a baseball bat.”

Twilight blinked. “You came out of their head?” she asked, looking a little green.

“Yeah. What’s so wrong with that? That alicorn guy came out from behind your ear.”

She looked at their faces and regretted everything she had said. Why, oh why did her family history have to be so weird? “Look, why don’t I tell you about Lucy instead?”

“Who is ‘Lucy’?” Sombra asked.

“My best friend. You must’ve seen her, tied up outside the shop.”

Twilight sat bolt upright. “You left your friend tied up outside?”

“Yeah. I don’t like it either, but hey. If it’s ‘no dogs allowed’, then it’s ‘no dogs allowed’.”

“Oh,” Twilight said, relaxing. “No, I’m sorry, we must have missed her.”

Sombra’s ever-present frown deepened. “Where did you tie her up?” he asked.

“One of the big candy canes,” Screwball said. “Why?”

“Because there is a rope there,” Sombra said, “but there is no dog.”

Screwball went rigid. There was a faint sound like a needle scratching on a record, and the spirals in her eyes glitched for a moment. Twilight leaned in and studied her closely. “Are you--”

And then Screwball was gone, sweeping her food to the floor and bolting for the door. “Lucy!” she shouted. “Lucy, where are you?”

“Tartarus,” Twilight muttered, leaping out of the booth. “We’d better get after her.”

Sombra made to follow her, but was arrested by a sharp clearing of the throat. Mrs. Cake had returned, and she was giving a rather pointed look at the food that had been thrown to the ground. He tried to explain, but his words died in his throat. Head hung low, he approached the counter and took the proffered dustpan. With a sigh, he began to sweep up the mess. At least he was out of the way for whatever chaos would come next.

While Apple Bloom started cooking up her allergy medicine on the kitchen stove, Applejack had decided to keep Mentiad company in the living room. He had fallen into a miserable sort of silence, now, interrupted only by the occasional sniffle. The silence was starting to wear on Applejack. Clearly, though, if there was going to be a conversation, the onus was on her to start it. “So, uh, sugarcube,” she said. “How’d you know Discord an’ all the rest, anyhow?”

Mentiad sniffled. “Oh. Well, it’s been awhile,” he admitted. “Lots more of us, back in the old days. The sisters took care of most of the admin. The rest of us mainly focused on our own domains.”

“Who-all else was there?”

Mentiad thought, smiling faintly. “Hm. Been so long since I really thought about them. Prince Omega of course, and his eternal foil, ORB. Harlequin lived up north in the Crystal Empire. I was always pretty sure that they had the hots for Princess Amore.” His smile faltered for a moment. “Chrona, of course, though when she would turn up was anyone’s guess. Nearly as bad as Paradox. All the rest, I suspect you’ve already met.”

“Love to meet th' rest of ‘em someday,” Applejack said.

Mentiad stared off into space. “Well, perhaps,” he said vaguely. “It seems so many of us have already returned…”

“Sugarcube? Are y’all alright, there?”

“Well, not particularly,” Mentiad said flatly. “I still can’t breathe through my nose.”

“Ah’ll go see if Bloomers has that potion ready,” Applejack promised, rising from her chair.

“Thank you,” Mentiad said as she left. He stared at the ceiling. He was forgetting something. He knew that he was forgetting something. He didn’t think he wanted to remember right now.

Fluttershy shoved the door to her cottage open. A flock of starlings flew from their perches, startled, but she only gave them a quick apology before hurrying up the stairs. She flew into her bedroom, but stopped dead when she saw a certain green figure sprawled out on her bed. “Treehugger? What are you doing here?”

The hippie raised her head and smiled. “Aw, hey, ‘shy. My train back home’s not gonna get here ‘til tomorrow. Is it chill if I crash here?”

“Er, yes, of course,” Fluttershy said, glancing around. “Where did I put it…”

Treehugger sat up. “Yo, dude. What’s put the bee in your bonnet?”

“I’ve lost something,” Fluttershy said, opening up one drawer after the other. “A key, a very important key.”

Treehugger stood up. “Key to what, dude? Hey, is this some of that ‘saving-the-world’ stuff? Not, like, saving the ground squirrels, but like, the world?”

“No, not exactly,” Fluttershy said. “I need to talk to Discord, but they’ve run off. A little while ago, I convinced them to give me a spare key to their house. But I can’t find it.”

“What’s it look like?”

“Oh, about the length of a crochet hook, blue, made of cardboard…” Fluttershy said. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll find it.”

“Cardboard?”

“It’s best not to ask too many questions when it comes to Discord.”

“Huh.” Treehugger looked around. “De-stress yourself, bud. It’ll turn up sooner or later.”

“Yes, maybe so, but I need it to turn up now,” Fluttershy emphasized. “Something is very wrong with Discord.”

She looked at Treehugger. The hippie looked back, apparently unbothered. “Their… chakras are out of alignment?”

That got a reaction. “Fer serious?” the green mare asked, leaning forward.

“Yes!”

“Huh. Thought they’d be less of a square than that. Okay, I’ll help you look.”

“Thank you, Tree Hugger. I just don’t know where it could have gone! The last time I remember having it was when I was sorting my sock drawer-- that’s where I usually keep it-- and then Applejack came over to ask about a sick pig…”

Tree Hugger furrowed her brow. “What did you do after that?”

“Well, I got out Diseases of the Pig by Swine Flu, and looked up the symptoms, and I bookmarked the page in case I needed to check it again later.”

Tree Hugger looked over Fluttershy’s bookshelf. About half of her books seemed to be about various animal diseases. The rest looked like soppy romance novels. She pulled down Diseases of the Pig. “What was wrong with the pig?”

“Um, Selenium Abundance. Why?”

“‘S’,” Treehugger muttered. “Scroup, Scuffsnout, Scumblescrote, Seditious Feelings, Selenium.”

She pulled out the marker Fluttershy had left there. It was blue, made of cardboard, and about the length of a crochet hook. “This it?”

Fluttershy lit up. “Treehugger, you’re a marvel!”

“Yeah, I get called that a lot.”

“A marvel?”

“No, dude. Treehugger.”

“...Right, yes. Now I just need to remember how to use this.” She frowned at the key-shaped piece of cardboard. “And to hope that Discord wasn’t kidding when they gave it to me…”

She closed her eyes, shoved the key straight out in front of her, and turned it. There was a brief feeling of vertigo, as though she were falling in three different directions at once.

When she opened her eyes, she was somewhere else entirely.

“Dude.”

So, apparently, was Tree Hugger.

Applejack looked over Apple Bloom’s shoulder, gazing doubtfully at the stovetop. “Are y’all sure about this?”

“Sure Ah’m sure!” Bloom insisted. “This is one of th’ first potions Zecora ever showed me, Ah’ could do it blindfolded. What’s got yer knickers in such a twist, anyhow?”

“He’s royalty. If you poison him--”

“Then Ah’ll be in just as much trouble as Ah would if Ah poisoned anypony else,” Bloom said firmly. “It’s just allergy medication, sis. There ain’t no way to mess this up too badly, 'specially seein' how he's immortal anyway. Worst thing it can do is not work.”

There was a sneeze, followed by a loud crack and the stink of ozone.

Applejack grimaced. “Considerin’ th’ number he’s doin’ on th’ farm, Ah’d say that’s bad enough. You almost done?”

“Just about. All it needs now is a little bit of crushed roses.”

“Oh, you’re making Snuffenuff!” Mentiad said brightly. Both mares wheeled around to look at him. His nose was leaking and his eyes were rheumy, but he was still smiling vaguely, utterly entranced. “I remember reading about that ages ago.”

“What are you doin’ up?” Bloom demanded, stepping away from the stove.

“I’m out of tissues. Interesting thing about Snuffenuff--”

“Nope, come on, yer sittin’ back down.”

“Don’t be silly, I’m perfectly capable of--” he tripped over his own hooves and smashed facefirst into the floor. After a moment of confusion where even Mentiad wasn’t sure how many limbs he had, he rolled onto his back. “Funny thing about linoleum,” he said, staring vacantly at the ceiling. “Invented by kirin immigrants to Equestria, and given its name by the future Lord Mayor of Trottingham…”

Bloom helped him back to his hooves. “Ah reckon he’s gettin’ worse. Ah gotta work out th’ right dosage, make sure that stuff don’t boil over.”

She led him back to the parlor. “And then I told Dick Topline, I said, ‘Dick, me boy me lad, if you want to get anywhere in life, what you need to do is get into politics’. Of course he said, ‘Oh no I don’t,’ but I told him, ‘Oh yes you do,’ and he told me…”

His story trailed off into incoherent babble. Applejack looked at the pot of medicine. It didn’t look very appetizing. It had turned a disturbing shade of pink, and it smelled distressingly like burned bubblegum. She wouldn’t have let Winona take that kind of medicine, at least not without wrapping it in bacon.

She mulled over that. “Well, like Aunt Candy Apple always says, ‘a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down’.”

She pulled down a bag of sugar from the pantry and poured in a little over a tablespoon’s worth. “That oughta make it a little more palatable.”

She stirred the broth. It foamed a little, but soon it settled down to a little bit of scum on the surface. Bloom trotted back in. “Ah reckon a quarter-cup’ll do it.”

“Sounds like a lot.”

“He went through all the tissues in th’ house in half an hour. Trust me, this is th’ dosage he needs.”

“All right. Yer the boss.”

“Glad you agree,” Bloom said, taking out a bag of little shriveled pink petals and pouring in a few. The potion sizzled and bubbled where they hit the surface. She frowned as the fizzing died down.

“Something th’ matter?”

“...No, nothin’. Thought it smelled a little sweeter than normal, that’s all.” She pulled out a measuring cup and poured a little of the brew in.

Applejack glanced away. “Better hurry an’ give it to him before he fries any more trees.”

“Yep, right away.” Bloom put the cup on a tray, picked it up in her mouth, and quickly ported it along to the next room. Applejack trailed along in her wake.

Mentiad was lying on his side in the middle of the floor. The lack of tissues had forced him to put the empty box over his nose to avoid dribbling on the carpet. He looked utterly miserable, but he brightened when he saw Apple Bloom come in with the pink fluid. “Excellent! How much of that do I have to drink?”

Bloom set down the tray and cup. “All of it.”

His smile fell. “Oh. I see.” He looked at the cup of pink liquid. A bubble formed on the surface and popped with a gloopy sound. “Bubblegum flavored, I seem to recall.”

“Yep.”

“Hasn’t changed at all over the years?”

“Nope.”

“Shame. Oh well, bottoms up.” He pinched his nose shut with magic, realized that it really didn’t make a lick of difference given how clogged up it was, then quaffed the medicine in one quick gulp.

His eyes crossed. He gagged, and a dribble of pink escaped his lips. With apparently titanic effort, he swallowed it all, twitched, and fell over sideways, back legs kicking erratically.

Applejack gasped and stumbled back. “You killed him!”

Bloom rolled her eyes. “Hardly.” She quickly shoved the empty tissue box over Mentiad’s nose, then rolled him onto his stomach.

A few seconds ticked by, and then Mentiad spasmed. He gagged several times, and several rather abhorrent snorting sounds emerged from the empty tissue box. After several seconds, he rose sharply to his hooves, taking a deep breath in through the nose as he did. After several seconds of wide-eyed panting, he glanced at the two mares. “How is it that over the course of nearly thirteen hundred years, no one has discovered a way of making bubblegum flavoring taste good?”

“Bin too busy tryin’ to cure more diseases,” Apple Bloom replied shortly.

Mentiad opened his mouth, then snapped it shut again. “Fair,” he admitted. “Thank you, Apple Bloom.”

“Weren’t nothin’. Y’all all better now?”

He considered. “Well, I can breathe through my nose again. So… yes, I think so.”

“Glad to hear.”

Applejack had her mind elsewhere. “Now, Ah know it weren’t yer fault… exactly,” she began. “But, well, we lost a lot of trees today…”

“Oh, right. Sorry. Um, you’ll be wanting money, right? I’ll need to talk to... someone about that, but I -- the Crown -- should be able to pay you back pretty soon.”

“Course! Take all the time you need, sugarcube. As long as it’s before harvest.”

“Mm. Say, you wanna know a weird fact about snuffenuff?”

Applejack tilted her head. “...Sure.”

Apple Bloom grinned. “Ah reckon Ah'll already know it.”

“Alright, you’re on, Bloom. What do you need to add to snuffenuff to make it into a potent stimulant?”

“Easy, sugar.”

“That’s a little forward, don’t you think?” Mentiad asked, quirking a brow. He lasted nearly three seconds before dissolving into giggles at his own bad joke. “But yes, well done!”

Applejack felt a pit open up in her stomach. “Uh. Hey, Bloom…”

Apple Bloom shut her eyes. “AJ, please tell me ya didn’t.”

“You know,” Mentiad said, the giggles not ceasing, “I’m feeling much, much better now!" His mane started to puff up, crackling with electrical power. "As a matter of fact, I think I’ll go hit the town! Thank you both so much see you later buh-byeeee!”

He turned and crashed through the window, pronking off into the orchard, heading toward Ponyville.

Very calmly, Apple Bloom reached over, removed Applejack’s hat, and smacked her over the head with it. Applejack didn’t move to stop her.

One-Track Mind

Treehugger’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “Duuude,” she said again. “This is Discord’s pad?”

Fluttershy glanced around. They stood in a long hallway that seemed to corkscrew around so that the floor twisted into the wall twisted into the ceiling and back again. It was decorated at irregular intervals with plastic lawn flamingos, and the whole structure appeared to have been made out of cake. “I’m almost certain of it,” she said.

“Righteous.” Treehugger looked down the hall. “So, uh, where’s Discord?”

“I don’t know,” Fluttershy admitted. “This is the first time I’ve been here without them. I don’t even know where we are in their house.”

“Ah. Not righteous,” Treehugger said, rubbing her chin with a hoof.

“And I don’t know how to get us back to my cottage.”

“Deeply un-righteous,” Treehugger said with a nod.

Fluttershy clenched her jaw and hissed out a long breath through her teeth. “Yes," she said after a moment. "That's one way of putting it.”

“Would a map help?”

“...Yes. Yes, Treehugger, it would. Why, do you see one?”

Treehugger pointed down the hall at a large plate of glass affixed to the wall. Fluttershy had mistaken it for some kind of rug at first, but looking closer, she could see a diagram of some kind illustrated there. “Oh, wonderful! Well-spotted, Treehugger!”

She gave the other mare a quick hug, then trotted over to get a closer look at the map. She peered at it, frowning.

Treehugger, who had somehow ended up on the ceiling, craned her neck to look. “What’s it say? Anything helpful?”

“...No,” Fluttershy said, dismayed. “Almost nothing’s labeled. Oh, except for this red dot here!” She squinted at the small writing. “You… are… not here. Well that isn’t veryyyeeeeeee!”

Suddenly, the hall had turned into a chute, and the two ponies were sent tumbling down into its rapacious maw, screaming as they fell.

Sunset hesitated at the boundary fence of Sweet Apple Acres. She sniffed the air. “Huh. They must be making baked apples today.”

As she made her way up the path, she couldn’t help but notice the sky growing darker. She picked up the pace a little, hoping to be safe inside before the rain started falling. She’d found that her mane had a somewhat poor reaction to getting wet. Whenever she took a shower, the steam started to seep out under the door.

When she got in sight of the house and saw that Big Macintosh was boarding up a window, her heart sank right down to her hooves, and she broke into an all-out gallop.

“What happened?” she demanded, coming to a halt at Mac’s side. “Is anypony hurt?”

Mac gently placed the nails in her mouth into a hoof before she spoke. “Nope. AJ’s got egg on her face, an’ Bloom ain’t liable to let her forget this in a hurry, but we’re all fine.”

Sunset breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s good. Where are they?”

“Ah.” Mac shuffled a hoof. “That’d be th’ bad news.”

“C’mon, sis!” Bloom called. “He was headin’ this way!”

“How d’you expect us to catch an alicorn?” Applejack demanded. “Even if he ain’t started flyin’ yet--”

“He’s bound to slow down once he gets distracted,” Bloom said. “We’ll be there t’ corral him when that happens.”

“He’s headin’ straight fer Ponyville!”

“All th’ more reason t’ stop him quick. Where was all this worrywartin’ when you were addin’ ingredients to mah potions?”

“Oh-!” Applejack fumed. “Quit talkin’. We’ll run faster that way.”

Sunset rubbed her forehead. “Right. Alright. So Mentiad’s high on cold medicine now. That’s fine, but I don’t think the crown’s gonna cover this particular piece of damage.”

Mac nodded. “Fair ‘nuff. Just so long as we ain’t in trouble or… nothin’...” She trailed off, staring at a spot beyond Sunset with abject horror in her eyes.

Sunset turned around. A tall, white figure was coming up the path, taking slow, measured steps. Her mane seemed much warmer than usual, blues and greens melting into violet and yellow. The pink stripes seemed to glow cherry-red.

“...Get inside. I’ll head her off,” Sunset promised.

Mac needed no further encouragement. She dropped the hammer and nails and bolted. Sunset wished she could do the same. Instead, she straightened up and made her way back down the path to town. “Hi, mom!” she called.

Celestia’s head whipped around to look at her. Her eyes glowed bright magenta. Sunset took a nervous step backward. “Uh, what brings you out to Ponyville?”

Celestia looked her over carefully. “You’re… alright?” she said slowly.

“Uh, yeah. Are you? ‘Cause, you look a little, um, flamey right now.”

“There’s a good reason for that,” Celestia muttered. “Where is Mentiad?”

“Ran off. But, uh, Applejack and Apple Bloom are chasing him! I’m sure he’s fine.”

Celestia's mouth thinned into a fine line. “Oh, I sincerely hope not.”

Sunset looked her mother over carefully. “And why is that, exactly? Mentiad seems pretty harmless to me --”

“He betrayed me," Celestia said simply. "Luna and I... he abandoned us."

"Um." Sunset tried to connect this to her mental picture of the alicorn she'd met earlier. "Okay, did he actually, like, betray you, or did he get distracted, or --"

Celestia looked her dead in the eye. "He chose to abandon us, Sunset. He rejected us and left, and --" she took a long breath in. "And then, Nightmare Moon came."

Sunset blinked. “Wait. What? Hold on, are you saying --”

Celestia was already moving back toward Ponyville. “We’ll head him off at the edge of the orchard. Come on, there’s no time to lose!”

Twilight tried desperately to keep up with Screwball, but the goddess of the arts had chaos magic, centuries of experience, and -- quite frankly -- a better exercise regimen than Twilight. She pushed through doors and came out of completely different buildings. She walked up walls, through walls, and occasionally into walls, flowing over the bricks like living graffiti. It was dizzying to watch, but Twilight was willing to go along with it for awhile.

However, she hit her breaking point when she noticed that where Screwball trod, the grass turned greener. Everything she touched grew more saturated, and Screwball herself was turning a shade of magenta that was hard to look at. Enough was enough. Twilight cast a bubble shield around Screwball and hoisted her into the air. The draconequus whipped around to stare at Twilight. Her irises were so wide they swallowed the whites of her eyes. She opened her mouth wide and hissed.

“No,” Twilight said flatly. “Use your words if you want me to let you go.”

Screwball stared at her for a long moment, her irises slowly dilating. Her saturation gradually lessened back to its normal levels. “My friend is missing,” she said, keeping careful control of her words. “I need to find her.”

“I understand,” Twilight said.

“Do you?” Screwball asked. “You would have, once. But now... I wonder.”

Twilight took a step back. “What do you mean by that?”

Screwball took a deep breath in. “I’ve been gone for a millennium,” she said. “Screwloose is one of my last connections to before. Her and parent, anyway, and I suppose Celestia and Luna, too. Mentiad… well.” She glanced away, blinking rapidly. “I had hoped... never mind him, I suppose.”

“You knew Mentiad?” Twilight asked.

Screwball visibly flinched at that. She turned back to Twilight. “You really don’t remember, do you?”

Twilight stared at her blankly. “Do I remember what, exactly?”

“Princess Vespertine. Vespertine, the Bridge." At Twilight's blank stare, Screwball pressed herself against the wall of the bubble. "Come on, I knew you didn't recognize me, but this is ridiculous! The Great Uniter. The Beekeeper. Vespa. Nothing?”

“What are you talking about?” Twilight asked.

Screwball shook her head. “And the other one. Sunset. She doesn’t remember anything about Amity?”

“Who are these ponies?” Twilight demanded. “Why should we know them?”

Screwball sat down in the bubble, looking as though she had just been slapped in the face. “Wow,” she said quietly. “You really don’t -- no. Obviously not. Celestia would never tell you the whole story, would she?”

Twilight brought the shield bubble down to eye-level and glared at Screwball. “Start making sense.”

Screwball glared back, just as hard. “I don't do making sense, remember? I'm some evil, nonsensical, reality-twisting threat, or whatever it is you seem to think of me. Anyway, I have a dog to find. Go ask your precious sun princess. She’s near enough. I can feel her presence from here.”

“You’re not going anywhere until I get some answers --” There was a sudden, sickening shift of perspective, and Twilight realized that her shield was curving entirely the wrong way. She glanced around and found that she was the one stuck inside.

“Goodbye, Twilight,” Screwball said, turning and trotting away. “I hope our next meeting is happier.”

“Wait, no!”

But Screwball was gone before Twilight could even think to drop the shield spell.

Cheerilee smiled as her class filed in from recess. “If everypony could take their seats, please, and open your math books to page thirty-four? We’ll be starting on basic algebra today…” she trailed off as she noticed two of her students lingering by the door. “Pound? Crow? Is something the matter?”

Pound Cake looked up at his teacher, his eyes wide. “Scare Crow isn’t feeling good, Miss Cheerilee. She didn’t feel like playing at recess, and now she’s got a tummy ache.”

Cheerilee frowned and trotted toward the two. She felt the tan-coated filly’s forehead. “Hmm. You’re a little warm, but that could be because you just came in from outside. It might just be something you ate. Do you want to leave class for the day?”

“Uhh,” said Scare Crow, spreading her wings nervously. “No, Miss Cheerilee. I’m sure I’ll feel better soon.”

“Alright,” Cheerilee said. “But if you feel any worse, just raise your hoof and tell me so, and somepony will walk you to Ponyville General.”

Scare Crow frowned a little. “At my old school, we had a nurse in the building.”

“Well, unfortunately, our schoolhouse isn’t quite large enough to warrant that kind of attention,” Cheerilee said. “Now, if you’re sure you want to stay, please take your seat.”

Cheerilee trotted back up to her desk. “Now, as I was saying, algebra -- yes, Caramel?”

The earth pony foal put their hoof down. “Miss Cheerilee, what causes stomach aches, exactly?” they asked. “I know that you can get them from eating too much, but why do you get them when you’re sick?”

“My mom says that some foods ‘disagree’ with dad’s stomach,” Pumpkin Cake put in. “How can food disagree with anything? Food doesn’t have opinions.”

Cheerilee put the math book down. She was aware that the class was attempting to put off math for as long as possible, but she was never one to turn down a teachable moment. “Well, let’s see,” she began.

At that moment, one of the walls exploded. Everypony screamed and shielded their eyes from the plaster. Silhouetted in the dust was a tall figure with a frizzy mane and a wild glint in his eyes. “Remarkable questions!” he said, beaming.

Cheerilee recovered herself first. “Who are you?” she demanded. “What are you doing here?”

He looked at her, still grinning. “Another marvelous question! It’s short, I’ll answer that one first. My name is Prince Mentiad! I’m the alicorn of thought and logic and SCIENCE! And today, I will be your guide to the digestive system.”

Cheerilee blinked. “That’s… lovely of you to offer, I suppose, but I think we have everything under control.”

He arched an eyebrow and looked at her levelly. “You were just going to draw things on the blackboard, weren’t you?”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Cheerilee asked hotly. Dimly, she was aware that she was escalating the situation, but it all seemed so surreal, so far away. The only real thing suddenly seemed to be the gaze of the interloper upon her.

“Oh, it’s fine, I suppose,” the alicorn said, skittering through the hole and into the classroom. “But to really get to grips with a subject, you have to get up close and personal. Take chances! Make mistakes! And get messy.”

“Meaning, what, exactly?” Cheerilee asked.

Mentiad gave a huge grin. His horn flashed, and suddenly everypony but Scare Crow was sitting in a massive yellow cart. “It’s time for a field trip!” he crowed.

Pound Cake put his head in his hooves as the cart began to shake. “I knew I should’ve stayed home today…” he groaned.

Fluttershy and Tree Hugger were still screaming when they landed in a pool of strawberry jam. Tree Hugger blinked several times. “So, like… I’m either super dead or super high right now.”

“We’re in Discord’s realm,” Fluttershy said, struggling to extricate herself from the pool. “The two aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“Boy. You sure know how to make a mare feel comfortable,” Tree Hugger muttered.

“Ooh… this is going to take forever to clean out of my feathers,” Fluttershy said, examining her wings as she finally hauled herself onto non-sticky land.

“Right. So where are we now?” Tree Hugger asked, looking around as Fluttershy began preening. Tangerine trees waved in the breeze, though they were dwarfed by massive green and yellow translucent flowers. The yellow-orange sky cast strange light through them, illuminating the fields of tulips below. Across the lake of jam, Tree Hugger saw things that looked like ponies, except their legs were fused, front and back, to curving, bony appendages. They seemed unable to walk, but were apparently happy simply gorging themselves on pies full of white fluff.

Fluttershy shook her head. “All I can say for sure is that we aren’t where we were earlier. Probably.”

“Oh. Right.” Treehugger scratched her head. “So, like, do you know where to go from here?”

Fluttershy considered that. “Well… I have one idea.”

“Great, man. Go for it.”

Fluttershy put a still-jammy wing up to her lips and blew a sharp, piercing whistle. Almost immediately, a pile of newspapers sprang up and formed themselves into a taxicab. One of the photos looked at the two mares and said, “Where to?”

Fluttershy opened the door and let Tree Hugger in, sliding after her. “We’d like to find Discord, please,” she said firmly.

The photo whistled through its teeth backward. “Are ya sure about that? The boss ain’t in the best of moods, if ya get my drift.”

“I’m sure,” Fluttershy assured him.

“Alright, but you’re paying up front.”

“That’s fine. What’s the fee?”

The newspapers began to burn and smoke. “YOUR SOULS!” the photo roared, little demon horns and a goatee scribbling themselves over his face.

Tree Hugger gaped. Fluttershy merely raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

The photo sighed and the newspapers all went back to normal. “Seven bits, jeez. Can’t a headline have a little fun for a change?”

Fluttershy counted out the coins and passed them up. An origami hoof reached out and took them from her grasp. “A’ight. Buckle up ladies, ‘cause here we go.”

The taxi backfired twice, then folded itself into an origami swan and took to the skies. Treehugger yelped and clung to Fluttershy’s side. “Oh, man. This is a real bad trip, Shy.”

Fluttershy nodded, patting her friend on the back. “Yes. I don’t think the destination will be much better, either.”

Heart of the Matter

Applejack stopped at the edge of town, panting for breath. Apple Bloom wasn’t faring any better. “We’re -- too late!” Applejack said. “He’s -- made it -- into town already!”

Apple Bloom nodded. “You -- keep -- trackin’ him. Ah’ll -- get -- th’ other -- Crusaders.”

“Why? What d’you think -- you’re gonna do?”

“Dunno. Friendship blast ‘im?”

Applejack grimaced. “Ya think you can avoid sendin’ him t’ live on the moon?”

“Er…” Bloom thought about that. “Alright, save that fer a last resort, then. Ah’ll gather ‘em up, anyhow. Now get after ‘im!”

Applejack nodded and ran off, following the trail of mild destruction through the town, a mixture of ozone-scorched earth and red-inked corrections on greengrocers’ signs forming the clues by which the rogue alicorn could be tracked.

She slowed as she reached the point where the trail suddenly diverted from the road. Her eyes traced the path up to the schoolhouse and saw the massive hole in the timbers. Of course. Where else would the alicorn of knowledge be drawn?

“Fer such a brain-case, y’all’d reckon he’d know how t’ use a door,” Applejack said sourly, before trotting up to the one-room schoolhouse. She peered warily around the corner and saw a tan filly sitting alone in the classroom, staring at some rectangular thing on her desk.

Applejack trotted over to her. “Scare Crow?” she asked.

The filly jumped in her seat for a moment, then relaxed, nodding.

“Are y'all alright?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Applejack drew in a deep breath. “Where did everypony else go?” she asked softly.

The filly looked up at her, slightly unsure of herself. “I… well, I ate them,” she said.

Cheerilee had to admit, grudgingly, that it wasn’t the worst field trip that she’d ever experienced, even discounting the time Discord awoke on her class trip to the Canterlot Gardens. The guide was entertaining and well-informed, and despite his manic demeanor, he paused and ceded her the floor when she made it clear that she had something to say.

Obviously, the situation itself was far from ideal. Her entire class, save one, had been more or less abducted and sent into the body of the sole pupil spared from the trip -- though he had conjured up some kind of two-way communication screen so that Scare Crow could ask questions as needed. The alicorn’s cheerful grin as he had announced, “Through the teeth and over the gums, watch out stomach, here we come!” would be forever burned in Cheerilee’s mind.

Playing Discord’s advocate, however, she had to admit that her class had never been more engaged by biology. Also, Mentiad had promised that he would take the class out by the same route they had entered, which was quite a weight off Cheerilee’s mind.

So really, as far as field trips went, this was a good three, perhaps three and a half, stars. If none of her students threw up before they got back to the classroom, she might even consider raising that rating to a four.

And then the voice echoed like thunder from the communication screen. “Mentiad! Get out here right this second!”

All that could be seen of the speaker was a big green eye. It looked furious. For the first time Cheerilee had seen, Mentiad actually looked slightly concerned. “Was that…” he began.

“Applejack?” Cheerilee finished. “Yes. Yes, I do believe it was.”

“Mentiad!” Applejack roared again. “Get that class back out here right this second! They got learnin’ to do!”

“I know! I’m helping!” Mentiad replied.

“Did Miss Cheerilee ask for your help?”

“Er…” He paused. “Well, no. But she doesn’t mind.”

He paused again and glanced at Cheerilee. “Do you?”

She stared at him for a moment. When it became clear that he wasn’t kidding, she said, “I do, actually.”

“Oh.” He coughed. “Oops.”

“‘Oops’? Y’all knocked a hole in th’ school, you foalnapped th’ whole class, an’ all you can say is ‘oops’?”

Mentiad’s eyes flicked up and down the rows of seats. “Ah. Hm. I mean... they've never actually left the building, so legally speaking I'm not sure --”

"I feel pretty foalnapped, Mr. Mentiad," Pumpkin Cake said. Several other voices murmured their assent, much to the alicorn's horror and dismay.

Applejack sighed. “Jus’... get out here, alright? It’ll be fine, Ah promise, but we are gonna need all them foals back.”

Before she had finished speaking, Mentiad had already wheeled the cart around and set off back the way they had come. Cheerilee noticed he was sweating profusely. “Are you… alright?” she asked.

He said nothing, but shook his head. His eyes were fixed on the esophagus ahead, but all the same, Cheerilee suddenly felt that he was studying her from his peripheral vision. She heard him murmur something to himself.

“Come again?” she asked.

He did look at her now, and she almost stumbled back under the weight of his gaze, his scrutiny an almost physical force. “I shouldn’t have come back,” he said simply.

Fluttershy and Treehugger were dumped unceremoniously on the banks of a river of chocolate. “This is as far as I go,” said the cabbie shortly. “Good luck.”

And without any further fanfare, he was winging off back the way they had come.

“Dude,” Treehugger said, her face pale. “What the fuck.”

“There, there,” Fluttershy said, distracted. “Have some chocolate, you’ll feel better. Now, Discord can’t be too far away from here. I’ll need to scout around a little bit, see if I can find any trace of them…”

“Uh…” said Treehugger. “Dude?”

Fluttershy glanced at her, and the other mare gestured to the top of a tall, purple tree on the other side of a river, where something akin to a massive serpent lay in coils over the top branches.

“Oh,” she said. “Good eye, Treehugger. Here, I should be able to fly you to the other side easily enough once my wings are clean…”

“Wait,” Treehugger said. “Are you, like… sure you want to be doing this? That cat doesn’t look like he wants company at the moment, you dig?”

Fluttershy considered this. “You may have a point,” she said. “But I’ve known Discord long enough to say with confidence that until and unless somepony goes to talk to them, there’s no way they’ll snap out of whatever mood they’re in.”

Treehugger still looked doubtful. Fluttershy sighed. “If they really don’t want to talk, I won’t force it, but if we don’t talk to them at all, we’re not getting back to Ponyville.”

“...You make a good point. Fine, dude, let’s give it a shot.”

Applejack watched, incredulous, as Scare Crow coughed into her hoof once or twice, before a miniscule yellow cart pulled by no pony came flying out of her mouth and soared across the classroom, landing on the floor. Then, slowly at first, then faster and faster, it began to expand into a full-sized vehicle, with Mentiad, Cheerilee, and the entire class inside.

As soon as it stopped growing, Mentiad rose on wobbly legs. “Please exit the cart in an orderly single-file line, thank you all for traveling on the magic school cart today.” He attempted to climb out of the vehicle, but fell over the edge in a tangle of limbs, squawking as he hit the ground.

Applejack hurried to his side. “Mentiad? Are you alright there, pardner?”

He certainly didn’t look well. His coat was growing damp with sweat again, and as Applejack helped him stand, she noticed that his skin was as cold as ice. He managed a small, weak smile, nonetheless, and nodded at her.

She almost fell over as his eyes raked over her. “I’ve been better,” he muttered. “Memories… I spent so long forgetting that I forgot there was ever anything to forget, you see? But here, the sense memories are so strong. The world… I forgot how present it was.”

Applejack patted him on the withers. “Okay,” she said steadily. “We’re gettin’ you to a hospital. Miss Cheerilee, Ah apologize fer th’ inconvenience, but we’ll have to sort this out later.”

Cheerilee nodded, watching her pupils trot out of the cart. “Of course. But we will sort this out later.”

“Naturally. Ah --”

“Mentiad.”

The conversation stopped. Everypony turned to look at the hole in the wall. There was a glowing inferno behind it. “Step back from the citizens.”

Mentiad did so, hesitantly. “Of course,” he said. “I’m really so very sorry I don’t think I’ve been thinking quite clearly because everything is too fast and too many eyes to take it all in and --”

BE SILENT.

Mentiad’s jaw snapped shut for a moment, his legs quivering like jelly.

The creature of light stepped forward, and Applejack recognized it. “Princess Celestia?” she asked, her voice hoarse with a sudden oppressive fear.

Sunset Shimmer poked her head in through the hole in the wall, shaking her head frantically. “I don’t know what’s happening,” she said. “I think she wants to kill Mentiad, and I don’t know if I can stop her.”

Mentiad took another step back towards the door of the schoolhouse. He seemed thinner than he had before, and taller, as though he’d been stretched. Had he always had so many eyes?

“I k̸n̸o̸w̷ you,” he said, his voice shaking. “I… k̴̞̋ñ̸̤é̷̺w̷̙͗ you. I don’t --”

Celestia stepped forward. Mentiad turned and fled, galloping through the door, his pursuer hot on his heels. After a moment, Sunset, Applejack, and Cheerilee raced after them.

Overhead, the sky began to roil, dark clouds rolling in from nowhere. They obscured, but failed to hide, the sun, glowing an unnatural shade of pink in the sky.

After the two mares spent a few minutes preening enough of the marmalade out of Fluttershy’s wings for her to fly, the pegasus was able to airlift her friend across the river of chocolate and up and around the tree in slow corkscrew spirals, dodging around the great limbs as they shot off into fractal branches and twigs. When they were about halfway up the tree, Fluttershy let out a long sigh. “I need a break,” she said. “We’re stopping at the next limb that’s big enough.”

“Roger-dodger, dude,” Treehugger said.

Fluttershy managed to set them down close to the trunk of the great tree and allowed Treehugger to disembark before she sprawled out on the vast branch on which they rested. It was truly enormous -- Fluttershy suspected that its cross-section would be larger than her entire sitting room -- and flat enough for the mares to comfortably walk on without fear of falling off.

Treehugger frowned as she paced toward the trunk. “Dude,” she said. “This isn’t a tree.”

Fluttershy glanced at her. “Well, no. It’s purple.”

Treehugger shook her head. “No, dude. I’m not saying it’s a weird tree. It’s not a tree at all. My mark says so.”

“Strange," Fluttershy said, frowning. "But then again, this is Discord’s realm.”

With a nod of assent, Treehugger pressed herself up against the trunk. “It’s alive, though,” she added. “I can feel it. ‘S like lightning in there.”

Fluttershy sat up. “...Treehugger? Are we going to get eaten by this not-tree?”

Treehugger paused. “Uhh. Maybe?”

“Okay, then let’s just keep moving --”

“No, dude,” Treehugger said firmly. “You gotta rest, rest. If you’re too tired to fly us out of here, we’ll be kinda screwed, you dig?”

Fluttershy frowned, but nodded. “Alright. But get back over here by me in case we need to leave in a hurry.”

“Righteous.”

After fifteen minutes of watchful rest, nothing had happened and Fluttershy felt strong enough to continue, so the two mares continued their spiraling flight upward.

After a few minutes, Treehugger leaned over, almost making Fluttershy lose her balance. “Careful!” she warned.

“There’s a knot in the tree,” Treehugger said.

“I see,” said Fluttershy, flapping frantically. “How very interesting Treehugger, a knot on a tree. Please sit back up straight.”

“It’s the only one,” Treehugger mused. “A tree knot on a not-tree.”

“Poetic.” Fluttershy twisted her torso hard to the right, forcing Treehugger back upright. “Please sit still, Treehugger. You might fall off if you do that.”

“...Right,” said Treehugger, still clearly distracted by the tree. “It just looked… familiar. I dunno.”

Fluttershy sighed and kept flying.

Eventually, they reached the top of the tree, where Discord lay entwined around its limbs. They seemed not to notice the mares, focusing instead on fiddling with something in their leonine paw, but as Fluttershy flew closer, they snapped their talons and conjured a pair of overstuffed armchairs, wedged firmly into the crooks of the branches.

Fluttershy paused for a moment, then moved to deposit Treehugger in one of the chairs. She herself flew over to Discord and perched on a branch above their head.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” Discord grumbled, not looking up at her. “I didn’t know you were here, I couldn’t have protected you -- You realize that my lands aren’t exactly OSHA-compliant, yes?”

Fluttershy nodded. “I know. But I needed to make sure that you were alright.”

They visibly tensed up and shoved the item in their palm, which Fluttershy saw only a yellow-green flash of, back into a box that sat on one of the other branches. “Fine?” they spat. “Me? I am a god! I have lived through cataclysm and destruction, sown chaos and madness the likes of which your mortal mind could not begin to comprehend, created beauty and wonder that would make your heart sing -- you think I of all creatures might need checking up on?”

“Last week you threw yourself into the river and wouldn’t leave because I was out of your favorite tea,” Fluttershy said flatly.

“A perfidious mischaracterization,” Discord said, jabbing a finger toward her. “I did that because all you had left was Oolong, which you know I despise.”

Fluttershy arched an eyebrow at them.

“Urgh,” Discord muttered, relaxing back onto the branches. “It doesn’t matter. Just… go back to Ponyville. I’ll be fine.”

“I want to be here for you,” Fluttershy said. “Please… tell me what’s bothering you.”

“Nothing’s bothering me,” Discord grumbled. “If you want to talk… fine. You can stay.”

“Rad,” said Treehugger, sitting awkwardly in her chair. “Whaddya want to talk about?”

Discord merely flopped on the branches and made an indistinct grumbling noise.

There was a pause. Then, Fluttershy said, “You never mentioned you had a daughter.”

“Didn’t I?” Discord asked.

“Was there…" Fluttershy fidgeted, twiddling her feathers as she searched for the right words. "You know, she told me, um, apropos of nothing, that I would be a good mother. Was there ever a, you know, another parent?”

“Oh!” Discord sat bolt upright. “No, no. No, nobody you’d need to worry about." They let out a short, artificial chuckle. "Worry about? Oh, that’s a funny way of putting it. No, nobody like that, at least no one who’s around anymore. Well, except Celestia, I suppose, but we never really… got together, so does she really count?” They grinned widely at Fluttershy.

She leaned back slightly. “Well, I, um, suppose not? I’ll take your word for it. Screwball also mentioned a cat goddess?”

“Oh, yes," Discord winced slightly and relaxed. "Ba’ast. She’s been gone for some millennia now, and she wasn’t exactly… good for me, anyway.”

Treehugger tilted her head. “So like… if there was no other parent, like… how did you have Screwball?”

“Oh, she sprang out of my head,” Discord said. “Out of this very tree, as it happens.”

There was a long pause. “I’m not sure what part I need to ask about first,” Fluttershy said.

“It’s very simple,” Discord said. “The tree is a part of my mind. Fluttershy, you know enough about animal biology to recognize the similarities, surely.”

Fluttershy tilted her head, thinking. The way the tree branched off at odd angles, the color, the way Treehugger had spoken about it -- like lightning under the surface…

“...It’s a dendrite,” she said, hardly believing it. “An axon dendrite. Have we been walking around inside your brain this entire time?”

“Not ‘inside’, per se,” Discord said, waving their paw idly. “On top of. Around. There are so many of these trees all over this realm, permanent fixtures amidst the chaos that I can only alter unconsciously, all of them connected in a great root system that leads back to -- well, that's rather metaphysical, not to mention personal.”

Fluttershy nodded slowly. “And Screwball… came out of that.”

“Indeed.”

“How?” Treehugger asked.

Discord shrugged. “Oh, the usual way. One morning I woke up with a screaming headache, had to get one of the others to smash my brain open with a hammer. It was probably Mentiad, now I come to think of it, though I can't be sure. Trying to force new life out of your brain tends to distract from the minutae. Anyway, out pops a full-grown goddess, the manifestation of all the world’s artistic talents reflected through my own particular warped lens of twisted humor.”

“So she was born from your mind,” Fluttershy said, marveling. “That’s incredible. She must have been just like you.”

Discord pursed their lips tight. “You could say that,” they agreed. “I remember when we were inseparable, her and I. Eventually, she became much more… herself, as it were. Got much closer to Mentiad, but still had plenty of time for her old par.”

Fluttershy said nothing, but kept watching them. “Now, though,” Discord said, their voice gruffer. “Now, she’s different. Distant. Not… fun anymore.”

“You don’t have kids for the fun of it,” Treehugger said, perhaps a little more sharply than she meant to.

“...No,” Discord admitted. “Perhaps that’s not the right way of putting it. She’s not… willing to have fun, it seems. After all this time, all this waiting, and she seems so…” their voice faded and they sat heavily against the tree.

“It feels,” they said, “like they don’t want me anymore.”

There was a long pause. “Is this teen rebellion?” they wondered aloud. “Or perhaps it’s a midlife crisis. Aging works differently when you’re eternal.”

“Aging, maybe,” Treehugger said. “But I think this is just a matter of time.”

Discord glanced over at her, eyes questioning.

Treehugger sighed. “Look, dude. You were a statue for like… a thousand years? And she’s been off growing and changing and living, and you were just stuck in a garden with your memories of her. It’s no wonder you feel like she’s different, ‘cause she is.”

Discord sat upright. The sky began to darken. “Are you saying that I, the very embodiment of chaos itself, the physical manifestation of change and growth, can’t grasp the development of my own daughter? Hm? Are you saying that I, like some C-tier sitcom dad, cannot come to terms with the fact that my Screwball is her own person? That she has had time, more than ample time, to build a life without me? Hm?”

“That’s the way it looks, bud,” Treehugger said.

“Oh. Fuck,” Discord said, sitting back down. They crossed their arms, scowling. “Well, I never claimed not to be a hypocrite.”

“Yes you have,” Fluttershy said.

“And what of it?” Discord demanded. They lay back, throwing an arm over their eyes. “Ugh. I suppose… I suppose you’re right.”

“She is,” Fluttershy confirmed. “So. What do you want to do about it?”

Discord peered up at her with one eye. “I don’t suppose that ‘malinger’ is an acceptable answer?”

“If that’s what you want,” Fluttershy said, without rancor. “It won’t fix anything, but it’s certainly an option.”

“Fffffine,” Discord muttered. “I’ll go and see if there’s anything left of our relationship to salvage. One-way ticket back to Ponyville, coming right up.”

They clicked their fingers and a glowing rift opened in the air. Through it wafted the powerful stink of ozone and plasma.

“Duuude,” Treehugger said, gazing through onto a stormy sky, backlit by a too-bright sun. “Maybe your kid isn’t out of her chaos phase.”

“This isn’t her,” Discord said, their face suddenly grave. They hesitated. “Just… stay here for a minute. It’ll be easier to shelter in place.”

“Shelter?” Fluttershy asked, alarmed. “From what?”

Discord grinned, but there was no humor in it -- only teeth. “I do believe we’ve got another family reunion on our hooves,” they said. Then they slipped through the portal and shut it behind them, leaving the two mares staring at nothing.

At one end of the street, Mentiad stood, vibrating, as lightning flickered over his skin. At the other, Celestia stared at him, surrounded by a corona of solar fire. Sunset stood well back from the duo, quietly urging Applejack, Cheerilee, and a few other curious townsfolk to keep behind her.

Mentiad stayed rooted to the spot as Celestia walked toward him slowly, almost stalking towards him until finally she stopped only five feet from where he stood, still quaking. He looked up at her, his many eyes wide and wet with tears. “Are you really going to kill me?” he asked softly.

Celestia hesitated for a long moment. She opened her mouth.

Then a pink presence forcibly inserted itself between the two of them and grabbed Mentiad by the cheeks, forcing him to stare into her eyes. “Mentiad,” Screwball said. “I need you to find Lucy.”

“I --” Mentiad stumbled back a few paces, confusion overtaking fear. “What? I don’t…”

She shut her eyes. “Oh for Shub’s sake. Has everypony taken amnesia pills today? Do none of you remember what happened to cause the Age of Abeyance?”

“No,” Twilight said coolly, trotting up to the scene. “But I think that I’d very much like to.”

“So would I,” Sunset said, moving to Celestia’s side.

Celestia’s eyes darted from face to face, the sudden oppressive heat evaporating as she drew back into herself. “No,” she said. “No, not like this. Screwball, please, don’t tell them like this.”

Screwball looked up at the alicorn for a long moment, then shook her head. “No. I’m sorry, but this is frankly ridiculous. It’s time they knew the full story, especially Mentiad, who has absolutely no excuse for forgetting in the first place."

She frowned at Mentiad, who shifted uncomfortably on his hooves. "You didn't even die," she accused.

"Oh," said Mentiad. "Um... sorry about that? If it helps, I think I'm about to." He glanced at Celestia.

Screwball narrowed her eyes at the princess, who now looked very uncomfortable indeed. "We'll see about that. Later. For now... CONTACT!”

She clapped her hooves together and haloes of violet flame appeared atop the heads of all five of those present. Their eyes all went pure, blind white as their minds hurtled back, back through the ages.

In Memoriam

“Are you sitting comfortably?” Screwball asked.

"No," Celestia said, petulant.

The five of them were floating in a pure white void. Mentiad was slowly spinning in the air, his legs tucked tight to his barrel as he desperately tried to regain his bearings. Celestia hung upside down in the air, her mane and tail spread out behind her like a firework in slow motion. Sunset and Twilight held onto one another, and Screwball was just floating calmly, sitting on nothing at all. “Good," she said. "Then I’ll begin.

“Once, Equestria was ruled by an entire pantheon of deities, both lawful and chaotic. There were thirteen of us -- unlucky thirteen, I suppose, although the goddesses of Fate and Chance were so seldom around that it was really closer to eleven.

“We ruled together in a state of relative peace for a period of some three thousand years. Occasionally a few of us would die and be reborn -- yes, gods may die, although it takes a great deal of effort to make it stick -- and sometimes, a few of us would go rogue. Once, a few of us took up piracy -- ah, but that's another story. There were periods of upheaval and periods of relative status quo, but somehow we all made it work.

“And then Amore vanished."

Celestia dipped her head at that.

“She was the one you know now as Princess Cadence," Screwball continued. "Her disappearance was strange for a number of reasons. First, it’s usually quite obvious when an alicorn dies. They tend not to go quietly, as it were. Second, she didn’t seem to want to return -- Omega, the god of death, never collected her soul, nor did ORB, the god of the afterlife, ever process her on the other side.

“As you might expect, this was… upsetting news. She had vanished from her Crystal Empire in the frozen north, and suspicions obviously fell on the noble family who took over from her, but nothing could ever be proven. They seemed as heartbroken as any other about the disappearance, and did everything in their power to find her again. King Obsidian passed some decade later, and his son, Sombra, took the throne. I’m sure you’re aware of what happened after that, at least in the rough."

"We were fools not to investigate further," Mentiad muttered. "If we had found out the truth before it all kicked off --"

"We did the best we could," Screwball said firmly. “Anyway, Celestia and Luna led the assault against the Empire. Harlequin, the deity of desire, aided where they could, and the rest of the gods took up the slack maintaining the rest of the world.

“It is here that we must pause and zoom in on one particular scene of the campaign against the Crystal Empire. Celestia, with your permission, I'd like to view your memories, for... historical context."

Celestia looked around at Screwball, patiently waiting. At Mentiad, slowly spinning. At her two former students, scrutinizing her, waiting for a reply.

"... Very well," she said, nodding her assent.

Images began to form out of the vast emptiness, forming a scene around the assembled deities. Canvas walls, frozen ground, a table at the center.

"I remember this," Celestia murmured, as figures began to form around the table. "I called the meeting to prepare for the end of the war..."

The winds blew cold and bitter against the walls of the tent. The scene inside was tense. Three figures sat around a table; a pale alicorn with a pink and yellow striped mane, a dark blue alicorn with stars that floated around her, and a chimerical creature that was less easy to describe.

"Who is that?" Twilight asked.

Eir head was that of a hyena. Eir torso was muscular and clad in a form-fitting leotard patterned with diamonds, diamonds which broke off at the waist and floated in a miasma where eir legs ought to have been. Ey had the paw of a chimp for eir right hand, and eir left was merely a grasping tentacle.

"Eir name was Harlequin," Screwball said. "The draconequus of desire. Ey were... I suppose you could call em a 'fixer'. Ey granted wishes."

Harlequin sat at the table with an intensity in eir glowing pink eyes that belied eir jester’s costume.

“So,” ey said. Eir voice was rough, with a hint of a Boston accent at the edges. “Uh, what’s happening? Do you need, like… better siege weapons? More rations? Armor? Just the standard order?”

“...No,” said Luna. “There is… something more we must ask of you.”

“I can’t risk mobilizing Wrath, if that’s what you’re asking,” Harlequin warned. “This close to the Empire’s emotional amplification, it would be a bloodbath. With the crystal the way it is, even Sloth’s presence would give both sides a nap they’d never wake from.”

“No,” said Celestia. “We would not ask that of you.”

“Would that it were only that,” Luna muttered.

Harlequin shifted uncomfortably in eir seat. “Then what?”

“We have decided --” Celestia began.

Luna coughed.

“I have decided, and Luna has decided not to argue,” Celestia corrected, “that what we need is a symbol to rally behind. There needs to be an end goal beyond Sombra’s defeat -- a new ruler of the Empire.”

Harlequin brightened. “A new dynastic line, you mean? Ah, you’ve come to the right concubus. Who needs seducing?”

“We weren’t thinking of a new lineage,” Celestia said. “Rather… the old one.”

Harlequin deflated. “Amore.”

“Yes.”

Ey sucked in air through eir teeth. “You realize this is more ORB’s domain than mine.”

“He’s no help,” Celestia said. “Even if he were, he’d be looking to get something out of it. You, on the other hand… you’d do it just for Amore’s sake.”

“I might refuse,” Harlequin said, crossing eir limbs over eir chest.

“Will you?” Celestia asked, without rancor.

There was a prolonged silence. “...No,” ey admitted. “But it’ll still come at a price. Even if it’s not charged to me, nothing ever comes free.”

“I can accept that,” Celestia said.

“Then… your wish is my command,” Harlequin said, rising from the table. “Just don’t expect it to be quick. Or easy. I’ve got some rumors to follow up on.”

Ey exited the tent. Celestia followed not long after. Only Luna remained in the tent, staring a hole in the table.

"I suppose you have something to say about all this?" Celestia said, looking at Mentiad. "You never were one to let go of an argument."

"Oh, don't worry," Screwball interjected. "We'll get to that."

"...What happened to Harlequin?" Sunset asked.

“Oh, ey did get to the bottom of the mystery in the end,” Screwball said as the scene faded back to white. “Amore had been transmuted into pure crystal, by a spell that had been burned from the public record by Harlequin emself, many centuries before. Then, she had been shattered and her pieces scattered. Harlequin spent a year and a day fitting them back together. That was the easy part. Then came the matter of bringing something back to life that had never truly died, which was the difficult part.

“I know nothing of the ritual ey performed to do it beyond that it resulted in the banishment of death itself from the universe for one singular moment. For a moment, all was life and all was eternal, and Harlequin plunged a knife into Amore’s crystal heart. And at last, she was able to pass away. Her last words were of gratitude for her freedom, or at least that’s how Harlequin told it.

“But ey had spoken true when they told Celestia of the cost. ORB and Omega were lost, banished to their own realms in the same moment death had abated from the universe, and were unable to return. Harlequin emself was severely weakened by eir efforts and slowly faded from the physical world, promising that ey would still help to win the war from the inside -- whatever that meant. Ey haven’t been heard from since, so far as I know, so I don’t think anyone’s asked em to clarify.

“Cadence was born quite unexpectedly to a polyamorous triad in Maredrid -- Harlequin’s ritual had accelerated the process somewhat, it seemed, because she grew to full term in just over a month. Her birth was celebrated, but not all was well. My par was horrified at the cost of what had been done. They became angrier, less trusting, most of all toward Celestia, whom they regarded -- not without cause -- as the architect of their loss. Mentiad and I were able to pacify them for a time, but the goddesses of Friendship and Magic were curiously absent. So, the three of us went to pay them a visit. Mentiad, I'd like to look through your memories to get a more complete vision of the affair."

Mentiad winced. "You could just use your own," he said.

"I will. But two memories are more comprehensive than one."

After a moment of thought, the alicorn nodded slowly. "Alright. Let's get this over with," he said, and shapes began to form from the aether once again.

There is a place where the stars always shine, where it is always warm and a fire ever-burns in the hearth. There is a house on a cliff overlooking a vast and trackless sea, a house that can always be called home. This is the domain of the alicorn of Friendship and the draconequus of Redemption, and the home of their coterie, the Elements of Harmony. Vespertine and Amity, the goddesses of Magic, had lived here and loved here almost since their ascension.

As Discord, Screwball, and Mentiad approached, it was clear that there was something terribly wrong. The smoke from the chimney had dwindled to a slim trickle, and clouds were beginning to hide the stars. The mist hung heavy on the sea, and all three deities felt cold and damp.

“The lights are on,” Mentiad said hopefully.

Discord stroked their goatee. “But nopony’s home,” they said darkly. “No sound, no movement… nothing.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Screwball warned. “Par, you check around back. Mentiad and I will search inside.”

They found no life. A pie sat on the windowsill, but it had long since gone cold. Books and tools and things lay scattered around the house, as though their users had just walked away for a moment to deal with something more urgent. The apiary around the back had fallen silent, abandoned by its bees.

And there were the spheres. They hovered in the air, glowing with colorful lights. All three gods present knew them on sight to be the Elements of Harmony as they had originally been -- mere instruments of the will of the Tree of Harmony, with no will or intelligence of their own. Now, though, it seemed that not even the Tree was acting through them. All six floated throughout the house -- Honesty coming up from the cellar, Laughter in the kitchen, Loyalty in the shower, Generosity by the bookshelves, Kindness out on the edge of the cliff overlooking the sea.

Vespertine herself was once more reduced to the mere Element of Magic, left floating by her beloved telescope.

Amity had never been an Element herself -- she had been the pony who had given them sentience, yes, and a conscience, but she had no shell into which to retreat. It was Mentiad who realized why the fire was still smoldering even after so long unattended, and he pulled out the egg of a phoenix from the ashes and kindling.

They all sat for awhile in the still and silent parlor, the remains of the Elements hovering around the edges of the room while the last remains of Amity lay on the coffee table. After about fifteen minutes, Discord snapped their talons and vanished.

“We…” Screwball said, her voice cracking with the sorrow. “We should go after them.”

Mentiad nodded dully. “And… and we should take all of them with us.”

“...Should we?” Screwball asked. “It seems disrespectful.”

Mentiad rose. “We owe respect to the living, not the dead” he said shortly, blinking rapidly to clear away the tears in his eyes. “The Elements are powerful. If they can end the war early -- if they can save even one life -- I think that’s what they would have wanted.”

Screwball nodded slowly. “I suppose they would have.”

The scene faded as the two gods of the mind gathered up the Elements to take back to the real world.

"Vespertine and Amity..." Twilight said slowly. "They were... Sunset and me?"

Screwball nodded.

Sunset turned to glare at Celestia. "And when exactly were you going to tell us this?"

Celestia glanced away. "Your memories would have eventually started to return. Then, I would have explained."

"But why wait?" Sunset pressed. "Those were our lives! You never said --"

"I didn't want you to live in their shadows," Celestia said. "You are your own ponies. Vespertine and Amity are long dead now -- only echoes of them remain. I didn't want you to feel there were horseshoes that you were at all obliged to fill."

She glowered at Screwball. "At least, that was the plan."

"They have a right to know," Mentiad said, quite unexpectedly. "You might worry for what they'll do with that information, but that doesn't make it right to keep it from them."

"You would say that," Celestia muttered.

"Well, we know now," Twilight said firmly. "No matter what any of us think, the cat's out of the bag, and I can panic about the philosophical implications of all this later."

Celestia gestured to Twilight. "See? I was expressly trying to avoid putting her through that!"

“Of course," Screwball continued as though Celestia hadn't spoken, "before the Elements could be used in battle, they had to be used against my Par. I wouldn’t -- couldn’t -- not against them. But I knew it needed to be done. Par had been twisted by their anger, devoting themselves to tearing down Celestia’s rule without regard for what deserved reform and what was keeping the world turning on its axis. I understand why the three of them did what they did, and I didn’t stop them. I forgive you both, and Luna too."

Mentiad dipped his head, though nopony could tell if it was in thanks, in regret, or both. Celestia gave a short nod. "I appreciate that, Screwball. Thank you."

“Mentiad bore Honesty and Laughter into battle. Luna took Loyalty and Generosity. Celestia had Kindness and Magic. They turned my parent to stone. Not long after that, I left this universe. I had had enough. Mentiad was spending more and more time brooding in his realm. Celestia and Luna… got on with winning the war, I suppose. I wasn’t there. I don’t have the details. I’m hoping the two of us who were there can fill in some of the gaps on Mentiad’s apparent final retirement.”

There was a long pause.

At length, Mentiad spoke, his voice brittle. "Alright, then."

"You'll be biased," Celestia said.

"And you won't?"

She said nothing to that.

"Together, then," Twilight said.

Mentiad hesitated, but Celestia raised her head high and nodded. "Very well, then. Screwball, you may do the honors. Open up our memories, and let us see what we may make of them."

Mentiad sighed. "... I suppose it was too much to hope that I'd never have to think about those days again," he said. "Alright."

Once more, shapes formed from the blank spaces around them, revealing the shape of a castle parapet.

Night was falling over Canterlot. The Royal Sisters stood together, watching the sun set. Neither spoke, not knowing what to say to one another. This was just what they did now, and what they had done every night since their return to the castle.

There was a flash of blue light from the other end of the balcony. Luna sniffed subtly. Ozone. “Prince Mentiad. It has been long since we last saw thee.”

“Yes. It has, rather,” the smaller alicorn said.

He was in one of his sullen moods again, Celestia noted. “We are glad of thy company, Prince of Knowledge.”

“Are you indeed. I suppose the company of our peers is getting rather hard to come by of late.”

Luna stiffened and internally, Celestia sighed. “Mentiad, you know perfectly well that Screwball left of her own volition.”

“I’d argue that watching her progenitor be turned into a statue puts a pretty big asterisk on that remark,” Mentiad returned.

“If you have come here only to rabble-rouse, perhaps you had better return to your studies,” Luna said, scowling at the grey alicorn.

“Oh, I will, momentarily,” Mentiad said, trotting to look out over the city below. “But as you said, it’s been too long since we last spoke. How have the two of you been, hm?”

“Well enough,” Celestia said.

“Fine,” Luna said.

Mentiad waited a moment. “Are you not going to ask me how I have been?”

“Why ask when we already know the answer?” Luna challenged.

“Testy,” Mentiad muttered. “Are you sure that final strike on the Crystal Empire didn’t--”

“We are fine,” Luna growled.

Celestia placed a restraining hoof on her sister’s withers. “Peace, Luna. He means well.”

Mentiad snorted. “You know, I think that might be the unkindest thing you’ve ever said about me, Celestia.”

Celestia raised a brow. “Oh? How so?”

“Meaning well is the last refuge of unjustifiable actions, save perhaps for 'only following orders'. You meant well when you besieged the Crystal Empire. You meant well when you took Discord to task. You meant well setting Harlequin against ORB and Omega.”

“And what would you have had me do?” Celestia challenged. “Let Amore stay in limbo forever?”

“Considering the outcome, yes,” Mentiad snapped, rounding on the sisters.

Luna pulled away from Celestia. “You dare?”

“There were other ways of restoring her. Safer ways, albeit slower. But because you couldn’t wait, we’ll not see Omega again anytime soon. Nor will we see ORB, nor Harlequin emself, come to that! And remind me, how much good did your precious little Cadenza do against the corruption of the Crystal Empire? Did you ever even make use of her gifts?”

“You wouldn’t suggest we take a baby to the front lines of a war zone, surely?” Celestia asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Of course not,” Mentiad snapped. “But then, why bother to resurrect her early at all? Did you intend to install her as the heir apparent when the day was won? Go from a deranged, homicidal tyrant to a babbling baby? It’s almost as well that the Empire did disappear!”

Luna gasped.

“Hold your tongue,” Celestia said quietly.

“Or what?” Mentiad demanded. “No, seriously, what will you do? Petrify me? Kill me on the spot? Banish me to the realms beyond reality? I really can’t think of anything you could do to me that you haven’t done to one of my friends already.”

“Our friends.”

“Were they?”

Celestia flinched as though struck. Luna had had enough. She lunged for the grey alicorn, but he blocked her with a shield spell. “Are you sure about this, Lulu?” he demanded with a manic grin. “After me, it’s only you and your sister left.”

“You forget Chrona,” Celestia said.

“She hasn’t even been born yet!” Mentiad snapped. “She won’t even tell us her real name, or show us her true face. Hardly a ‘friend’ by any definition.”

“Really? Bold words, given how close the two of you have grown. How close we all were, once.”

Mentiad took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Quite right. I apologize. I spoke recklessly.”

“Very recklessly,” Luna said, still glaring daggers through the shield spell.

Mentiad turned and looked out over the balcony again, letting his gaze linger on the petrified figure of Discord in the royal gardens. “It is only us three left,” he said quietly. “The two of you lasted this long by standing by one another at all times. I managed only by sequestering myself. Some kind of irony there, I’m sure.”

“Did you have a point, Mentiad?” Celestia asked.

“The time of gods is over,” he said shortly. “Screwball had the right idea, leaving before she was locked away, or destroyed, or banished. I intend to follow her lead.”

Celestia bowed her head. Luna scowled. “You would be so selfish as to reduce our numbers once more?”

“Yes. You would be wise to do the same. Retire to your realms, maintain the heavens from there, let the populace govern itself rather than be wracked by the squabbles of higher beings.”

“You know full well that we cannot,” Luna said.

“I know that you will not,” Mentiad replied. “But very well. I have said my piece. There is nothing more that I may do. I hope that someday, after years of studying, I will decide to return. Forget why I ever left. Perhaps then, the world will be steady enough for the presence of alicorns and draconocci. Until then…” he trailed off, thoughtful.

Luna snorted. “You intend to order us about now, of all times?”

“Not order. Merely request.” Mentiad turned to face the sisters. “Take care of Cadance. If there was ever friendship between us, keep her safe. Power corrupts. The power of an alicorn can corrupt utterly. Remember that, both of you.”

His shield spell folded in upon itself in fractal patterns, and Mentiad was gone. Celestia took a deep, shuddering breath. “Well,” she said flatly. “With that, I believe I shall turn in.”

Luna said nothing. Her eyes were shut tight as she breathed in short, heavy pants. She stayed in that position for several minutes after Celestia departed. When her eyes snapped open once more, they glowed a baleful turquoise shade, with slit pupils as dark as a starless night.

The glow of memory faded from the eyes of the assembled, leaving them all standing back in the streets. Celestia slumped to the ground, her mane fading back to softer blues and greens. "And there you have it. The argument that started it all. Mentiad's final visit... it turned her against me. From that day on, she started avoiding me, questioning my every decision, and flying into increasingly violent outbursts. Mentiad was the catalyst for it all."

“Me?” Mentiad demanded. “From what I gathered, it was the aftermath of the attack on the Crystal Empire that did it. A fragment of the Nightmare got into her system.”

“And you activated it! I had been trying to keep her calm and rested for months, giving her space to work out her aggressions. More than ever, we needed to trust in one another. You drove a wedge between us!”

“No,” Twilight said softly. “I think you did that, Celestia.”

Celestia went stiff. “I… no. I don't deny I should have addressed her jealousy against my day, but --”

“You ignored her misgivings about the restoration of Amore,” Sunset said. “Because of that decision, her support network was annihilated.”

“Mentiad’s recriminations certainly didn’t help the situation,” Twilight allowed. “But to me, it looked like there was a wedge between you well before then. Or didn’t you think it was strange how distant the two of you were acting after the war?”

“I…” Celestia’s mane dimmed and sagged. “I… didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want to remember. Not any of it. I suppose… Mentiad, in his absence, was just a convenient scapegoat."

She let out a long breath, and turned to look at the grey alicorn. "I owe you an apology, Mentiad. I've been blaming you all these years in hopes that... that it might not all have been my fault.”

Mentiad rubbed his cheek, thoughtful, then nodded slowly. “I suppose I can relate to just wanting to forget,” he said. “But I think that we’ve all just learned that it’s far more constructive to forgive. And... I suppose that it's only fair that I shoulder some of the blame too, for leaving you in the lurch. I'll forgive you if you'll forgive me?”

Celestia nodded slightly and gave a faint smile. "That seems more than fair."

“Great, glad I could help,” Screwball said. “Now can you please help me find Screwloose with your all-seeing eye magic?”

“Oh!” Mentiad said. “Right, yes.” He stared into space. Phantasmal eyes shimmered, barely visible, like a heat haze around his body. “She… met another dog today and wanted to play with him. She’s at his house now, playing tug-of-war in the backyard. It’s on a hill to the southeast.”

Screwball breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank Nyarlathotep. And thank you, too.” She grinned. “It’s good to have you back, Mentiad.”

She hesitated for a moment, then pulled him into a tight, brief hug. Then she was off, running toward Octavia’s home.

Mentiad blinked dumbly after her. Then, he smiled slowly. “You know,” he said. “I think… I think it’s good to be back.”

There was the sound of a throat being cleared, and Cheerilee pushed her way past Sunset to glare at Mentiad. “So, about that hole in my schoolhouse,” she said.

“Ah,” said Mentiad. “Oops.”

Peace of Mind

Discord came hurtling over the rooftops of Ponyville to come in for a landing beside the schoolhouse. Glancing around, they saw no sign of active hostilities, though Prince Mentiad was standing before Miss Cheerilee with a cowed expression.

They frowned. “What, did I miss all the fun?”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Twilight said, trotting over to them. “Your daughter gave us all a little history lesson.”

“Ah.”

She looked at them sidelong. “So… were you ever going to tell me that I’m apparently the reincarnation of an ancient alicorn, or…”

“First of all, that isn’t how that works,” Discord said. “You inherited her power and, in time, her memories will come to you, but you are still Twilight Sparkle.”

Twilight nodded. “Oh...kay?”

“Second of all, that sounds disgustingly like being helpful.”

Twilight rolled her eyes, but she was smiling slightly. “Yeah, I probably should have guessed.” She paused and looked at Discord. “Would you… I dunno, tell me about Vespertine sometime?”

Discord stared off into the distance, thoughtful. “I might. Later. For now, I have a different conversation to have. Do you know…”

“Screwball? She went that way,” Twilight said, pointing.

“Thanks,” Discord said, taking off once again.

“Good luck,” Twilight called after them.

Discord pursed their lips tight. “Hopefully, I won’t need it,” they muttered.

“So…” Mentiad said. “Um, I’ll start by saying sorry about… well, all of that.”

Cheerilee nodded, her expression carefully schooled. Mentiad continued, “I can probably fix the damage to the schoolhouse pretty easily. Er, as for the semi-kidnapping aspect…”

“Semi-kidnapping?” Cheerilee asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Technically, none of you ever left the classroom,” Mentiad pointed out. “I’m pretty sure kidnapping involves a secondary location of some kind.”

Cheerilee stared at Mentiad for a long moment with weary eyes. “Give me the Magic School Cart for the year and we’ll call it even.”

“It stops existing when I stop thinking about it,” Mentiad said sheepishly. “But, er…” he pulled out a small remote inset with a crystalline blue button and handed it to her. “Press this when you want to go on a field trip, and I’ll make it happen.”

Cheerilee considered the button for a long moment. “...Deal,” she agreed, snatching the button from his hoof. “Everything else aside, you did manage to get them all genuinely invested in biology. If you can manage that with geometry, I’ll forgive you anything.”

Mentiad looked thoughtful. “Geometry, huh? It’s been awhile since I paid a visit to my friend Albert Square…”

“Miss Cheerilee!” somepony called from inside the schoolhouse. “Scare Crow says her tummy still hurts! I think she’s gonna barf!”

Cheerilee grimaced. “Excuse me. Duty calls.”

“Of course,” Mentiad said, nodding.

After a moment, he turned to face Applejack, who had come up behind him. “Oh, hey,” he said.

She nodded at him. “Howdy. Uh.” She doffed her hat. “Reckon Ah owe you an apology,” she said.

He tilted his head. “Oh?”

“Uh, that medicine Bloom made ya. Ah put sugar in it. It’s mah fault y’all lost control there.”

“Ah.” He tilted his head. “Did you learn anything from the experience?”

Applejack blinked, confused. “Eh?”

“Did you learn anything?” he repeated.

“Uh… well, probably to trust Bloom with her potions more. An’ that Ah shouldn’t stick mah nose in on somethin’ Ah don’t know that much about.”

“Those are good lessons,” Mentiad said thoughtfully. “Alright. I forgive you.”

“Oh. Thank you kindly,” Applejack said, donning her hat once more. “Uh. And you? Did you learn anything from all this?”

Mentiad hummed. “...I think I did. I think that locking myself away was a bad idea that I was just too stubborn to back down from. Trying to make myself forget the bad times wasn’t just foolish, it was the antithesis of what I’m meant to stand for. I think I’m finally ready to come back to the world.” He cast a sidelong glance at where Celestia was standing. “That is, if I can.”

Celestia glanced up, caught his gaze, and quickly looked away.

Applejack chuckled. “Don’t know if that’ll be a problem. She seems pretty damn embarrassed about kickin’ up that fuss.”

“I suppose,” Mentiad said. “I think she and I still have a ways to go as far as reconciliation goes, and that’s before Luna herself comes into it. We didn’t part ways on the best of terms.”

Applejack shrugged. “Discord didn’t, either. Look at ‘em now.”

Mentiad said nothing. Applejack noticed that some of the tension had eased from his face, however, and he gave her a friendly bump on the shoulder.

It was a matter of only a few minutes of explanations and apologies to extract Screwloose from her impromptu playdate. Octavia was very understanding. Her wife, Vinyl, seemed to want to wash her hooves of the entire situation.

“That was very naughty of you, Lucy,” Screwball chided, leading her dog away from the musicians’ house. “I was so worried about you! It’s been so long since I last got to see you, girl. I missed you.”

Screwloose whined and tucked her tail between her legs.

Screwball frowned at her for a moment longer, then reached over to scratch behind her ears. “There, there,” she said. “I’m not mad, you just scared me. But you’re back now, and that’s the important thing.”

Lucy brightened immediately, her tail wagging, and she leapt up to lick Screwball’s face. “Okay, okay!” Screwball said, grinning. “Yes, I love you too.”

“Well, well,” said a familiar voice. “Isn’t this nice.”

Screwball turned, her smile dimming slightly. “Oh, hey par.”

Discord leaned over to start scratching Screwloose under the chin. She leaned in, one leg thumping on the ground. “Do I take it that we’ve had a little adventure today?”

“You might say that, yeah,” Screwball agreed. “What about you?”

“Oh, you know,” Discord said nonchalantly. “I was busy taking a little trip down memory lane and all that.”

“Mm,” Screwball said, glancing away. “I see.”

“I missed you, you know,” Discord said softly. “I still remember the night you left, laying it all out in front of my statue.”

“Yeah,” Screwball said quietly. “I remember, too.”

“I was proud of you,” Discord continued. “You probably couldn’t tell, because, you know, I was a statue.”

Screwball winced. “Yeah.”

“But I was so proud of you, champ,” Discord said, turning their full attention to her. “I was so proud of you, going to college, getting away from the fall of the gods. And… yes, I was angry, too. Angry that you were leaving me, angry because you weren’t trying to save me, angry that -- well, it felt like you had betrayed me.”

A tear ran down Screwball’s cheek.

Discord noticed, and their tone softened. “But you didn’t. I understand that now. You did the right thing, and I was the one in the wrong.”

Screwball was silent for a long moment. She took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, you were. You let me down, par. You hurt me.”

Discord flinched, but paused as they felt a pair of strong hooves wrap around their waist. “Ah,” they said. “Do I take it this means…”

“You’re forgiven,” Screwball agreed. “I missed you too much to keep you out of my life now.”

Discord sighed, wiping their brow with a paw. “Thank goodness. All that aloofness and avoidance had me rather worried.”

“Yeah. I really wish that being born out of your mind didn’t mean inheriting all your busted coping mechanisms,” Screwball said.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Screwball looked up at them, eyebrow arched. “Really. Where have you been for the last couple of hours, exactly?”

Discord twisted up their face a little at that, but couldn’t find it in themself to argue. “Alright, then. Pax?”

“Pax,” Screwball agreed. “Just so long as you recognize that I’m not the pony I was a thousand years ago, alright?”

“Deal,” Discord said. “Though, on that subject…”

They clicked their talons and a box manifested in front of Screwball. “I found this at the Thinking Tree,” they said. “You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to, naturally, but…”

Screwball opened the box. Inside was a little propellor beanie. She held it up in front of her, studying it closely for a long moment. Discord said nothing.

Then, she smiled and popped it on her head. “Thanks, par.”

“You’re very welcome, my dear,” they replied. They paused. “You know, I was thinking about going to the ice cream dimension earlier today. Would you care to come along and fill an old draconequus in on the last thousand years?”

“I’d like that.”

“It’s the oddest thing, though,” Discord mused. “I do feel rather as though I’m forgetting something…” They shook their head. “Ah, well. It’ll come to me.”

They snapped their fingers, and in a pop of cold air that smelled of mint, the two were gone.

“So…” Fluttershy asked, glancing at Tree Hugger. “Do you think they’ll be back soon?”

Tree Hugger just shrugged. “Define ‘soon,’ dude. Uh, got any threes?”

Fluttershy looked at her cards and passed over the three of cups. “Have you, um, got any…” she scanned her deck, which consisted of the King of Hearts, Pikachu, the Hierophant, Skip a Turn, and Get Out of Jail Free. “Any major arcana?” she tried.

“Go fish, dude.”

Fluttershy drew from the deck the two had found in the boughs of the tree. “Oh! Blue eyes, white dragon! I win!”

Mind Your Manners

“So that’s why you should never hire a dolphin as a foalsitter,” Mentiad concluded. “I never trusted them, anyway. They smile all the time.”

“So!” Twilight interjected brightly, managing to cover her internal screaming quite well. “Mentiad, would you mind telling us a little more about, well, you?”

“Oh.” He thought about that. “Er, well, I’m the alicorn prince of math, logic, information, and so forth. I like books. And science. And history.” He considered. “Also puzzles.”

Twilight nodded encouragingly. Mentiad bit his lip and stared at the ceiling. “Um, I have a cat. I left this plane of reality about twelve hundred years ago to go and study everything that was ever written. I like to cook… that’s about all I got, sorry.”

“Ah have a question," said Applejack. "Ya said y’all lived in an ivory tower?”

“Oh, yes," Mentiad replied. "It’s in the Realm of Forms.”

There was a pause. “Th’ what now?” Applejack asked.

“Oh." Mentiad scratched his chin. "Yeah, I guess not everypony’s heard of it. See, I usually spend all my time in my own little world — not unlike a lot of academics, really.” He chuckled. “I inhabit this sort of… exterior reality, linked to this one. I like to call it the Realm of Forms. This one minotaur philosopher, Plate Shoulders, originally had this idea that there exists, somewhere in the infinite universe, a perfect slice of cheesecake.”

Twilight frowned. “That’s not quite —”

Applejack furrowed her brow. “You live in a world of cheesecake?”

“That would be lovely,” the alicorn admitted, “but no. See, the thing about philosophers is that they argue about everything. And the thing about the minotaurs is that their culture is strongly based on physical dominance. So when word got out about Plate Shoulders’ idea, it wasn’t very long before he was challenged to defend his beliefs — in hoof-to-hoof combat.”

Applejack blinked. “What?”

Mentiad waved a hoof idly. “Look, this all happened a very long time ago, back before the unification of the tribes by about five or six centuries. Back then, fighting philosophers weren’t even worth commenting on, that’s how common they were. Study philosophy, you get some great stuff. The grudge match between Young and Fraud? Epic. Can't say I was wildly supportive of either of them, but I'm always there for beating up Fraud. But I digress. See, Plate Shoulders was also a pro wrestler, so that’s the fight he chose. So, it’s the day of the debate. He’s going up against one of the big guys — Derisive Sneer, ‘the Deconstructor’. That bull pinned some of the biggest thinkers of the age, exposing their paradoxes and fallacies as he threw them to the mat. Of course, he had more than few fallacies himself, but let’s not get into postmodernism right this very minute, because I have opinions.”

“And?” Applejack asked, interested despite herself.

“Sneer did his best, but he was too cocky, too sure. He didn’t even familiarize himself with his opponent’s argument. He got in some good moves, but Plate Shoulders… well, his shoulders, as his name implies, were massive and flat. Every time Sneer got him in a headlock, Plate shrugged him off. And he made his argument something like this — when you see a cheesecake, you think ‘oh, that’s a cheesecake’, as opposed to ‘what a lovely chair’ or ‘yikes! A hungry timberwolf!”. And you do that no matter if it’s a normal cheesecake, or one with chocolate sauce drizzled on, or one that a timberwolf is sitting on. So the question is, how do we know? What makes it a cheesecake?”

Applejack frowned and considered this question. “‘Cause… it looks like a cheesecake?”

"Ah," said Mentiad, grinning broadly. “But how do you know what a cheesecake looks like?”

Applejack hesitated. “Because... Ah’ve seen cheesecake before?”

“Well, how do you know they were cheesecakes?”

Applejack sighed. “Look, sugarcube, why don’tcha just tell me? Cheesecake jes’ stopped soundin’ like a real word.”

Mentiad nodded enthusiastically. “Basically, he said that there must be some sort of ideal cheesecake out in the multiverse, existing outside space and time— he called it a Form. Every other cheesecake is just a shadow of that one perfect cheesecake, just as every bowl is a copy of the one perfect bowl, and every hat is a copy of the one perfect hat. That’s about as far as he got before Sneer got back up again and flipped his argument on its back — also flipping Plate onto his back, incidentally — but it was enough to get people thinking.”

“Wow. So, who won?”

“Oh, Sneer did, eventually. But it was enough to introduce the world to a new pattern of thought, and get me a new house.”

“A new... house?” Twilight interjected. “I don’t see the connection.”

Mentiad turned to face her, flipping his mane over his shoulder in the process. “Basically, thanks to that argument, Plate’s argument became widely recognized and is one of the major bases of Western, and by extension Equestrian thought. Since I’m more or less the one who runs thought, I now live in the realm of Forms. It’s a nice sort of place, once you get used to it. Everything moves and acts with mathematical perfection, and everything is ideal. Good place to do physics experiments.”

Applejack blinked. “So… what does that even look like?”

“Imagine if you were inside a book of technical drawings, and that’s about right.”

She screwed up her face. “Yech.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad," Mentiad said reflectively, leaning back in his chair. "Lots of life’s little annoyances just... aren’t there. Like pollen allergies, or splinters. I like to come out here sometimes though, just for the colors. And the company.”

“And what happened to Plate?” Applejack asked.

Mentiad considered this gravely. “I think he eventually went into show biz — something about shadow puppets?”

Applejack sat back. “Wow. Weird story.”

The alicorn shrugged. “Well, I might not remember it perfectly, but that’s basically how it was.”

“I’m really pretty sure it’s not,” Twilight said, frowning.

“That may be,” Mentiad allowed. “It’s been awhile since I read about it. Longer since I saw it.”

“Why do you get your own world, though?” Applejack asked.

“Oh, all the alicorns and draconnocci have one," Mentiad replied. "Some don’t use them very often, of course, but they’re there. Luna’s got the Realm of Dreams, Screwball over there has the Land of Creativity, and so forth. Both border on my world, for given values of ‘border’, but I don’t know about any others.” He looked at Twilight, intrigued. “What about you? What’s your realm like?”

“I-- Celestia never told me anything about having my own dimension,” Twilight said, rather indignant. “Let alone traveling there.”

“Oh, shame. I’d ask her about it if I were you.” He turned to Applejack. “What about you? What sort of house have you got?”

“Me? Well, Ah live out on Sweet Apple Acres, with two siblings an’ Granny Smith. It’s a nice house, in mah opinion. No ivory tower, mind, but it's just right for us.”

“Apples?” Mentiad asked, tilting his head.

“Yep! Sweet Apple Acres, some of the finest fruit you’ll ever sink yer teeth inter!”

Mentiad's green eyes glimmered. “I’d quite like to investigate that claim.”

Applejack grinned. “Sure thing, sugarcube. Ah’ll give y’all th’ grand tour after--”

Mentiad was already making for the door. “Hey, hold up there, pardner!” Applejack pushed back her chair and raced after him.

Twilight considered going after them, but decided against it. She elbowed Trixie in the side. “Get Sunset. We’re going back to the castle.”

“Not now,” Trixie hissed.

“What do you--” Twilight glanced over to Screwball, who was describing an Antarctic trip she had taken to an increasingly distressed Rarity. “Oh.”

Rarity continued to listen in horrified fascination to Screwball’s story of her expedition climbing the Mountains of Madness in the Antarctic. “So… what happened after your sled dogs were, um, mutilated?”

“I went to go research the giant penguins,” Screwball replied casually. “Wrote a whole monograph on ‘em. Turns out, instead of feeding off of the thoughts and dreams of innocent explorers, as previously assumed, they primarily eat iceworms. Major discovery there.”

“Uh-huh,” Rarity replied, repressing a shudder. “Most intriguing, darling, but why don’t you tell me about yourself for a while? You’ve told me a lot about what you’ve done, but not a lot of personal stuff. I’ll be honest, you don’t really take after your, uh, parent.”

“Mm,” Screwball replied, pursing her lips. “Well, ponies change. I used to be more into chaos. For a long time, I was the avatar of insanity, goddess of creativity and spirit of the arts. I suppose I still am, at least in name. I was par’s right-hand mare, helping them spread chaos across the world. It was fun, I guess. But eventually… I dunno. I got bored. Par got turned to stone. I decided maybe there were better things in life than just causing chaos for the heck of it. So, I went to college. I chose Misk U. mostly because of the scholarships.”

“Scholarships?” Rarity prompted. "Plural? Impressive."

“Yeah. The whole ‘tomes of eldritch lore’ thing, plus one for promising not to drive the whole town into insanity.”

“So… don’t you do chaos anymore, then?” Rarity asked slowly.

“Well,” Screwball began, but she found a large yellow paw suddenly covering her mouth.

“Of course she does chaos,” Discord scoffed. “She’s a draconequus. We’re the very embodiments of chaos! It’s what we do, isn’t that right, Screwy?”

The pink mare looked at her progenitor flatly. They quickly removed their paw from her mouth. She rose from her chair. “So,” she said brightly, as though nothing at all had happened. “Where’s Lucy?”

“Lu— Oh, of course, Lucy,” Discord said, smacking their forehead. “How could I have been so forgetful? We’ll go and pick her up right away.” They turned to the assembled ponies. “Thank you all so very much for coming, we’ve had a wonderful time, good-bye, safe travels, don’t let the door hit you on your way out,” they said, shooing them from the room.

“Discord,” Fluttershy said sharply. “What are you doing?”

The draconequus paused. “Oh yes, this is your house, isn’t it? Well, you can stay, of course.” They then proceeded to continue shoving the other guests out the door.

“Discord,” Fluttershy repeated, her tone taking on a shade more menace.

Screwball trotted over to her. “This is your house?” she asked.

“Oh, um, yes,” Fluttershy said. With her attention diverted, Discord took the opportunity to shove everypony else out of the house.

The pink pony raised an eyebrow. “So why is par holding my party here?”

Fluttershy flushed. “Er, well, they sort of… live here, too. Sometimes.”

Screwball’s eyebrows rose. “Ah. So somepony’s finally caught their eye. Well, as far as potential mothers go, I suppose you seem alright.”

Fluttershy squeaked. “Oh, no! It’s not like that at all!”

Screwball stared at the pegasus for a long moment. “Huh. You actually believe that,” she said. She rested a hoof on Fluttershy's withers and looked into her eyes. “Listen. Last time parent moved in somewhere, it was when they were trying to get with Celestia. Time before that, they had gone gaga for some cat goddess. They don’t pin themself down for nothing, you know.”

Fluttershy blushed as pink as her mane. “Oh… well… um…”

Screwball shrugged. “Well, whatever. You mind if I crash here for a few days? Just until I find a place?”

“Of course,” said Fluttershy with a sigh of relief. “There’s a fold-out bed in the couch.”

“Great. Now I just have to go and get Lucy.”

Fluttershy’s brow furrowed. “Lucy? Lucy who?”

Screwball’s jaw went slack. “Parent! You haven’t even told your marefriend about Lucy?”

“Marefriend?” Discord asked, pausing in surprise. “I don’t have a — Fluttershy, did I get a marefriend? I can't have a marefriend, I wouldn't know how to take care of one. What kind of environmental stimulation do they need?”

“Oh my actual Nyarlathotep." Screwball massaged her temples. "Y’know what? Just forget it. Let’s get me back my best friend.”