Bastard Juice

Some Kind of Soul

Princess Celestia thought she could still smell sea salt long after they returned. She let the automatic grind of royal duties sweep her up for the rest of the day, and her mind numbed itself with routine. She promised Discord that they would have time together the next day. When Luna had excitedly wished to hear all the details there were to her ‘adventure’ — because everything was an adventure to her — Celestia gave the most civil answers possible. A princess does not present herself as unwilling to hold a conversation.

When the next morning came, Princess Celestia noted that she was slower than usual to brush her mane in uncomfortable silence. She never cared for those two words much. All silence was uncomfortable, so the little turn of phrase always came across as too obvious and painfully redundant.

No silence ever lasted; she knew the ways to banish it and fill its place.

This time, all she had to do was have a conversation with Dissy. Really, there was nothing frightening about that, or about him. But what creature could blame her for not knowing how to address the smooze in the room?

…

Mister Smooze glowed happily as Princess Celestia doled another helping of lesser gems into the bowl. The warm flame of her parlor’s hearth made the gooey creature dance with friendly light. It was an odd air of innocence to cast over such a creature.

Discord popped a few of the bubbles that came from his pipe. Celestia heard him snicker at something from behind her. Perhaps it was a new idea for mischief. She simply focused on keeping the scraps of copper and semi-precious stones from spilling over the edge of a pet bowl.

Celestia bit the inside of her cheek. She had been the one to purchase the supplies to care for Mister Smooze whenever Discord brought it to Canterlot.

It. Him. Them.

She wasn’t even sure what was the correct way to refer to a combination creature like smooze.

How could she have ever thought pet supplies were appropriate?

Something tickled from behind her ear and Celestia turned around quickly. She blinked in astonishment at the sight of a golden bit held too close to her face and Discord’s big grin.

“Yoo-hoo, Celly! Look how shiny this one is!” His grin widened when Celestia matched it with her own imitation. “There must be a fortune on your mind.”

“Mhm,” Celestia murmured, keeping her gaze away from the sloppy eating of Mister Smooze. “I suppose that is inevitable with how our errand went.”

In reply, Discord offered a childish frown and tapped his pipe to his chin thoughtfully. “What do you mean, Celly?”

“You never mentioned that we were going to fight ponies, much less a mare, and her foal.”

Discord blinked and chewed at his pipe. “Hrm.”

“Hrm?” Celestia mimicked. Knowing Discord, any kind of ‘hrm’ from him was practically a language of its own.

“Of course,” Discord replied, shrugging. “I just never thought of them that way. You were there too, and would you really say that these remnants are ponies?”

“I…” Celestia hesitated, bringing a forehoof to her chest like that could make her words settle faster. “I think that it’s very difficult to see them as anything else. There was so little in their minds, Dissy. Goodness, I don’t know if what they had left could even be called minds.”

“Erm,” Discord raised a claw, holding it up like a student hearing their teacher makes a mistake. “Doesn’t that make them no different than ponies who take a great fall and become brain-dead, Celly?”

“Well, I suppose… though, accidents like that are filled with so much less torment.”

“But would you call them and a happy, healthy little pony the same?”

Celestia closed her mouth quite primly, completely unwilling to answer. There was distant grief clear in her eyes. “Ponies are ponies.”

Discord scratched his head.

“And smooze… are they all your foals?”

“They’re what happens when any draconequus and pony copulate.” Discord gave a wavy shrug and his pipe vanished in a snap of magic. “You’re more than lucky that Alicorns aren’t ponies.” He stage-coughed into his paw. “Just saying.”

Celestia was well-aware that there was no other draconequui left in the world that could be spoken of, and that when Discord spoke of himself, he was speaking for the remainder of his species too.

Her feathers ruffled with worry, and the sight of a crackling fire did nothing to put her solemn demeanor to rest. “Dissy, how much more smooze is out there?”

“Ahem,” Discord adjusted a bowtie he had conjured and straightened the thick, nerdy pair of glasses accompanying them. “I do believe the correct question would be: could there be any more smooze?”

“Mhm, so it would seem to be the right thing to ask.” Celestia took her seat on a small stool. It was relaxingly soft and as opulent as her other furnishings — but most importantly, it was away from Mister Smooze.

“And…” Discord snapped everything away, eyes bright with his usual teasing. There was no doubt that this was all meant to cheer her up. “...the answer is: I have no idea! Before being stoned there were quite a few pretty pink-maned things that caught my eye after we last saw one another.”

Princess Celestia inhaled very calmly and went three shades paler; there was no other fitting reaction. “I beg your pardon?”

The expression on Discord’s muzzle was like a foal who had run out of ways to insist that a shattered vase was not their fault. “Erm. How do I explain it? Your mane used to be pink and—”

“Not that, Dissy. How could you not know how many foals you have? Is this what is to happen when any young one has draconequus heritage? What of draconequus mothers and pony fathers? I know you are not cruel to leave a mare to die, but what else can be made of so many other mares you’ve been with left to this as their destiny?”

“Firstly, I don’t think my kind were called foals, though we all grew into fools! For your second and third questions, yes-but-not-quite. I never heard of any union between ponies and the noble draconequus begetting anything more than bastard juice like smooze. My kind were all careful about those particular cautionary tales and they learned that regardless of gender, every creature involved would be doomed in some fashion. Not exactly fun stuff, you know. Overall, ponies are just the worst kind of mortal to play with. They’re very basic, require too much attention, don’t live very long, flaky snacks don’t work as bribes into doing flips, and there’s the whole smooze problem. Now, get a small enough dragoness and there’s a compatible species…”

“Dissy,” said Celestia, voice clipped, “that isn’t what I asked.”

“Oh, but I didn’t even get to the matter of my favorite Alicorn mare yet!” Discord winked in her direction. “She’s a lovable, squishy marshmallow of a mare. Perhaps you’ve heard of her?”

Clicking her tongue, Celestia settled down once again, re-folding her wings and trying to indulge Discord in his effort to soothe her worrying. “Perhaps. You still have left the matter of so many mares and their fates unknown to me. For good reason, I presume?”

“Suspense?” Discord offered weakly, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Well, not really. The answer is actually a dreadfully boring one. When I was a much younger, naive cad I never stayed anywhere long; I simply couldn’t bear to do anything so dull. When I got bored, I left. Oh, and it turns out that for ponies certain ‘biological processes’,” Discord wasted no time being subtle with his air quotes, “are a teensy-tiny bit different from draconequui. How was I supposed to know everything under your sun about pony pregnancy? I’d never seen a pregnant pony before! I thought they were all just fat and mean!”

“Oh,” Princess Celestia murmured. She folded her forehooves in front of her and gave a sigh of relief, closing her eyes momentarily. Her mane swirled faintly with the motion but still retained a muted air compared to its usual energy. “I suppose we can at least be thankful nothing more nefarious fueled such decisions.”

She bowed her head and only shifted when Discord tossed her the first in a long line of colored hoofkerchiefs his magic made.

…

Dusk was always a time of impatience for Princess Celestia. In terms of function, it could easily be called the most useless part of the day. Sometimes she pondered if it could be seen as anything more than a heavenly reminder for ponies to hurry off to their homes and finish their evening meals. The evening always held its breath for something Celestia could not spell out. It only created unneeded tension.

The sight of Mister Smooze just worsened the feeling of distant anxiety. The green, gooey creature had been stalking her around her chambers. Discord had gone away some time ago to stir harmless trouble in the castle while Celestia wished to maintain a sensible bedtime — especially when she had yet to put the island errand with the smooze behind her.

Would seeing the fragments of memory left in Lady Smooze — if there were any — have made things worse?

The squishy sounds of the smooze following her across the balcony weren’t an adequate reply. She frowned, recalling how she had found the little creature to be cute and silly at the Grand Galloping Gala. Discord referring to Mister Smooze as his own and how the creature followed its father about in a stupor of joy no longer were innocent gestures.

As Celestia ended the day, Mister Smooze ambled along, halting abruptly in her shadow. The last rays of sunlight gave the slimy body of Mister Smooze an unsettling luminescence.

Mister Smooze gave her the same passive smile he showed Discord.

Mister Smooze gave her the same smile he showed everypony.

Celestia stood there on her balcony, barely able to look at the creature. Here was the union of mother and child, bound together against the desire of the only of the two allowed to live from the two smoozes that she had met. Together, they had lasted for centuries sealed with a bond that only one state could break. Though Mister Smooze smiled up at her, was he still suffering even in his compact form? Had she and Discord truly done good in any way that was complete?

One smooze was still here, unable to do more than eat, follow at others’ heels, and delight in what little it could experience as an eyeless blob of slime. How could it tell anypony if it was still hurting?

Something sprung to mind, a single word dark and creeping. It was no thought free from darkness, but Celestia was not surprised by it. Right now it was chillingly relevant to the dilemma of the remaining smooze, and the struggle it brought to Celestia's thoughts was a necessary one, no matter the means or implications that they conjured up. There was a single word that every Element of Kindness, past or present, always had to gain familiarity with.

Author's Note