Twilight Sparkle had expected a lot of life changes after her coronation. There was one addition to her daily routine that had snuck up on her though: Going on morning walks.
She’d never been a particularly outdoorsy pony. In fact, Shining Armor had often called her “Indoors-y” when the two of them were young, laughing when she sputtered that ‘indoorsy’ wasn’t a word, then laughing harder after declaring her nerdy indoorsy-ness to be the only reason she knew that. Moderate foalhood resentment aside, Twilight’s daily trots weren’t some symbolic attempt to triumph over her brother. He lived half a world away now, and probably wouldn’t even remember those old spats they used to get into if she wrote to him and brought them up.
No, the reason Twilight made a lap around the Canterlot business district every few mornings was because it scratched some sort of spiritual itch that had developed since Celestia and Luna retired. Academia housed her soul. The palace housed her stuff. But despite having grown up in Canterlot and now being the crowned ruler of it, Twilight had seen very little of the capital city in her lifetime. This was her abstract way of catching up. On restless mornings, she put hooves on the ground in the quiet hours before the shops opened and made a long, leisured lap around the empty square.
It wasn’t empty today, though.
An echoing click had sounded from up ahead and snapped Twilight’s attention away from the hoofcarved street sign she was passing. About a storefront away and heading in her direction was a purplish pony with bad posture.
Ever the deferential type, Twilight stepped to her right. The stranger mirrored her perfectly and their collision course continued. Startled, Twilight jerked back to her left and the other pony did the same. Heart in her mouth from sudden social panic, the crowned princess of Equestria stopped dead in place as her saggy-shouldered opponent plopped into a sitting position. The latter’s head lolled back, atrophied eyes panning around in different directions like she was one of those chameleon creatures Twilight had heard about in Zebrican folklore. They seemed to be intentionally looking at everything in the otherwise empty square except Twilight.
“Morning, Magic. Walk your side to share your sidewalk.”
Twilight flinched as an exact duplicate of the other pony pushed politely past her from behind. She flinched again as she noticed the first pony’s spot utterly vacant. There hadn’t even been a teleportation flash. Just another soft clicking noise.
“Stepping softly in a sleepy city,” the maybe new, maybe same pony reported. “Still swerving to sidestep tip-tapping traffic.”
“Um… are you okay?” Twilight asked in earnest concern. The stranger’s still-swimming eyes very much reminded her of Derpy Hooves's, a casual friend of hers who was featherbrained even by Pegasus standards.
The stranger tapped her bottom lip with a front hoof. It was hard to say whether she looked contemplative or confused. “Nah,” she finally decided. “Heard the main reign’s reins had changed, so Screwball bumbled by to see how everypony’s new lead horse is giddyup-ing. Hats off to your highness.” With clumsy grace, she swiped a hat from Twilight’s head that hadn’t been there a moment ago. It was yellow and had a pronged propeller on its peak.
This was the second continuity error Twilight had witnessed in as many minutes. She had good enough instincts to recognize whose brand of spellcasting she was dealing with.
“Alright, show’s over, Discord!” Twilight’s demand echoed loudly off the nearby buildings. “Shoo out the clown already and show yourself! I know this pony doesn’t actually exis-MMPH!”
“Make nice, not mean Magic.” The stranger was pressing her snout into the Princess’s own with all the unearned authority of a foal appealing to a better. “Screwball’s bonds are maturing as best they can, but she might cash out early if you aren’t interested in loaning her any credit.”
“Credit? I don’t think so.” Twilight pushed away, not even bothering to be surprised at the sight of the irrational imitation of a pony hovering a hand or so off the ground. That gaudy hat’s silently spinning propeller might’ve been amusing if it’s wearer wasn’t such an irritant. “I’m not gonna give props to an airheaded knockoff of Pinkie Pie sent to bother me on my morning walk.” Twilight huffed before raising her voice again. “I expect more creativity out of you, Discord. You’re getting lazy with age.”
For some reason, Discord was still refusing to show himself. The square stayed silent, with the pony self-identified as Screwball scowling sternly as she could over being rebuffed.
Twilight exhaled to calm herself down. Her morning walks were supposed to be de-stressors, not invitations to get trolled by an old adversary who couldn’t even be bothered to bug her himself. But hey, she could play that game if she had to. Shining Armor’s foalhood teasing had taught her a thing or two. Like the effectiveness of pretending to be defeated.
“I don’t have to stay here and put up with you.” Twilight was pouring on the most pompous princess persona she dared. It made the pony shaped extension of Discord’s magic cock its head in confusion. “That’s right,” Twilight pressed. “Have the street to yourself for all I care.”
In a flash, Twilight Sparkle teleported herself back to the castle. Sort of. Looking around, she saw she was actually in the sculpture gardens just outside the main keep. Exactly where she’d been aiming. Knowing she didn’t have much time before her bait was bitten, Twilight darted around the yard until she found the empty pedestal that had twice housed Discord. She managed to cast a hasty hex on it mere moments before a vexingly familiar clicking noise sounded and Screwball appeared on top of the pedestal, panting heavily.
“I just can’t muster much relish as I’m hot dogging it to catch up, my little-”
“Gotcha!”
Screwball yelped in genuine surprise as the platform sent a surge of petrification magic up through her body. Twilight cut power to the hex just as it reached her antagonist’s knees so the latter was stuck crouching awkwardly on three granite legs.
Screwball’d had the reflexive luck to raise a forehoof as soon as the rest of her began fossilizing, but judging by her forlorn expression after she tapped it a few times against the base she was now fused to, she’d still been decisively trapped.
“Marvelous misdirection, Magic. You scrambled like an egg to beat me like one.” Screwball plucked off her hat and held it to her scrawny chest in what seemed like sincere respect.
Twilight swept a few loose bangs out of her face. “The crook always returns to the scene of the crime,” she quoted from her favorite Fetlock Holmes novel. “I figured if you really were sent by Discord to hassle me, you’d pop in on top of his old platform so you could make some snide remark about it. And I was right. For a creature conjured by chaos, you ended up being pretty predictable.”
Despite her helplessness, Screwball stuck her tongue out at the princess. “Couldn’t catch and keep a casual compliment, could you? Had to haughtily haver on over handily halting my harrumping hide, huh?” She flung her hat at Twilight to accent her impotent insultedness. Twilight of course caught it with her magic before respectfully setting the garment down in the grass.
“Okay, you’re right. That was rude of me to gloat and I’m sorry. It’s just… look, I don’t want to know how things work in Discord’s dimension, but here in Equestria when one pony wants the attention of another they start by saying hello and introducing themselves. Not… whatever you’ve been doing for the past few minutes. Speaking of which, how were you doing all of that? I don’t see a horn on that head of yours, and Discord doesn’t normally give his goonies very much power before turning them loose.”
Screwball pawed the pedestal with her free leg, looking apprehensive. “That there’s the thing I came to converse about. Discord schools scores of groupers to flounder around Equestria, but I’m the prized perch he keeps in a bowl on the dresser.”
Twilight regarded the blabbermouthed half petrified pony cautiously. “You’re special, then?”
“Somewhat. Allow another angle of approach, alright? Those wings you wear… they wound up wiggling on your withers artificially, am I accurate? They appeared after you ascended?”
“I uh…” Twilight flapped her wings a few times self-consciously. “I wasn’t born with these, if that’s what you’re asking. After I completed my hardest trial, Celestia decided I was ready to have them.”
“Mm-hm. Harmony thumbs its nose at Chaos by handing out wings to get a leg up in the arms race. You and I, we’re snotty new bloods spit out by bigger bodies.
Twilight rubbed her nose. “Listen... Screwball, I think you said your name was? I’m a fairly literate mare, but it’s way too early in the morning for me to try to sift through all your sing-song speech patterns. Not trying to offend you, but can you please just level with me and try to say in plain Ponish why you’re here?”
Screwball’s heliotropic eyes wavered on Twilight for a moment. Then the head housing them nodded in slow, self-conscious understanding.
“Apologies. Automatic alliteration affinity is- Ahem! The way I talk is a defense mechanism. Puns and anvilicious wordsmithery are the tools to hammer away anxiety. Am antsy when it comes to confrontation.” She glanced down at her pedestal. “Understand I’m undergoing unnecessary urges to utter a ‘cold feet’ joke right now.”
“Uh huh. And for what it’s worth, I appreciate you fighting the temptation. Go on though, I promise I’ll let you go if you just tell me what you want.”
“Splendid. So listen, Chaos and Order are very real forces that move this world. They have wills of their own, wills strong enough to play out a petty proxy rivalry.” Screwball noticed Twilight frowning again, and continued in embarrassed plainer language. “If Harmony sees Chaos has spawned a Draconequus, it nurtures two Alicorns to counter him. If Chaos sees Order grow a Tree of Harmony, bet your bottom Bit it’ll send in Plunder Seeds to stifle that growth. You and I are the latest lackeys in line, Magic. The Sun handed her mantle down to you, so…” Screwball took a few quick shallow breaths to gather her courage. “I’m the filly fillet Discord cooked up to raise the stakes.”
Screwball brought her free hoof up and a click issued from it. Wait no, Twilight realized. Not a click. A snap. The sound that had been accompanying all of Screwball’s strange tricks this morning was that of fingers snapping. And only one species on Equus had a propensity to spellcast with that specific flourish.
White light flashed and Screwball was free of the pedestal. She hovered in place, fully flesh and blood again, but certainly no longer a pony. Twilight took in the sight of patchwork limbs, a serpent’s tail, and an antler next to a goat horn atop an otherwise unchanged head.
“Good golly,” Screwball said in a slightly shaky voice. “Get gandering at that: I got given goosefeathers almost as awesome as an Alicorn’s.”
The draconequus performed a coy pirouette to show off her mismatched wings as they gently guided her to the ground. She stretched her snakelike spine as if to showcase how much taller she was, but the poor posture of her pony form had apparently carried over, because after she relaxed her frame stooped down so she and could more or less look each other in the eye.
“I see,” Twilight managed through pursed lips. “You were able to get out of that trap all this time, but instead stayed put so you could toy with me.”
“N-not the whole time,” Screwball protested defensively. “Only when Chaos let me. You might have Harmony on speed dial, but my method of magic has an ever-changing area code I’m forced to follow on the fly. Chaos just wouldn’t be Chaos if it always picked up the line when called.”
“Uh-huh. Then how come I’ve never heard of Discord having problems with his own spells?”
Screwball hung her head. “He’s a spindly enough spider to walk the web without effort. I’m a novice nymph who still sometimes gets her feet stuck on the stickier strings.”
“Huh. I guess that’s reasonable.” Twilight couldn’t relate to someone struggling with magic, but she did recall her own awkward adjustment to having wings.
“You can have your hat back if you like,” Twilight said by way of a peace offering. She made a point of lifting the propeller beanie with her hoof instead of her levitation, and Screwball nodded thankfully. Paw met hoof as the handoff was accepted the handoff and the hat returned to the top of Screwball’s head.
“Much magnanimity in your mercy, Magic. Oh shoot, sorry. I mean thank you.”
“You’re very much welcome,” Twilight replied as earnestly as she could.
The two stood apart for a few moments, not sure whose turn it was to speak. Twilight eventually decided to take initiative. “You know, Discord didn’t mention anything to anypony about training a successor.”
“I’m relatively recent,” Screwball admitted. “Modal and custodial when he’s away from home, spending free time with Kindness.”
“And I’m guessing he didn’t ask your opinion before… ‘leveling you up,’ so to speak?”
Screwball shrugged. “Did The Sun ask permission before she did the same to you?”
Now it was Twilight’s turn to feel embarrassed. “Not really. It was just something I had to accept after it happened.”
Screwball nodded knowingly. Then she dropped to all fours, arching her back like a cat.
“Well..I won’t let it go to my head that your heart isn’t in this,” she murmured morosely. “I for one am all-around on edge with us squaring off, too.” She swallowed resolutely as visible chaotic mana cracked around her. She raised a claw with intent to snap. “You won the coin toss, so I’ll throw the first pitch.”
“Wha-? Oh my- No Nononono no no!” Twilight took a step back and held up her front hooves defensively. “I am not brawling with you.”
Screwball looked like she couldn’t believe those words had actually come out of Twilight’s muzzle. “But.. we’re next in line,” she reminded her rival. “Alicorn and Draconequus. Our pain train tickets have already been punched for us by our betters.”
“They absolutely have not! Did Discord tell you to fight me? Because if he did, he lied!”
“He didn’t… that is, my assumption…. Maybe I’m an airheaded windbag blowing smoke, but…” she gestured to herself. “Gaslight doused, we can’t breeze past what animal I’ve acclimated as.”
“Harmony and Chaos don’t automatically have to fight,” Twilight insisted. “I mean, doesn’t the fact I still let Discord run free prove that conflict between us isn’t a foregone conclusion?”
Screwball’s eyes synchronized for once and they both regarded Twilight dully. “The town square. Your earlier enraged elocutions echo in my ears. Even after all these years, you and Discord are clearly not kindly cohorts.”
Twilight silently kicked herself for being so quick to fling insults earlier. “Okay, yes, I’ll concede that,” she admitted. “Discord is Fluttershy’s friend, not mine. B-but it’s because of his personality, not his species. You don’t seem like you actually want to hurt me. I don’t want to hurt you either, Screwball. Not if we can help it.”
Discord’s progeny shook at the knees as she pulled her hat down to hide her eyes. “Th-then what am I to do with myself?”
“I don’t know, Screwball. To tell you the truth, I didn’t really know what to do after my own ascension either. Celestia gave me barely any guidance up to it, and even less afterwards. I’m guessing Discord gave you absolutely none, huh?”
Screwball didn’t answer right away.
“You got to ride shotgun with The Sun while learning the rules of the road, but Discord’s wheelhouse has always been rolling with whatever curbside attraction he catches in his rearview mirror. I’m a good sign spinner who didn’t know her jestering gestures entertained him any more than those of the other oddballs populating our pocket dimension. Kindness came by to catch my creator up on your coronation, and once she went away, he pivoted in place and pointed proudly at me. Said I’d do fine as an opposite to keep you occupied, then sauntered off after souping up my sorry self.”
“Teacher of the year right there,” Twilight replied flatly.
“I should leave,” the draconequus mumbled as she turned away.
It was hard to say who was more surprised by Twilight stomping firmly down on Screwball’s retreating tail: Screwball, or Twilight herself.
“Don’t,” the Princess demanded. “What do you have waiting for you back in Discord’s dimension, anyway? Any friends you can talk to? Anywhere quiet to sit down and sort through your thoughts?”
Screwball’s silence spoke volumes.
Twilight sighed and released her conscripted rival’s tail. “I’m sorry. You’re not Equestrian, so I shouldn’t be giving you orders. You know how you said you lapse into poetry when you’re upset? Well I default into Princess Mode, as if acting all authoritative is the same as actually feeling like I am. Maybe that’s the reason I’ve started going on these morning walks through the city, even though I’m normally a very indoors-y pony. I don’t want to forget what it’s like to feel small. To feel normal.”
“That’s not a word.”
“Huh?”
Screwball was lazily coiling around Discord’s old pedestal like the world’s most depressed snake. “Indoors-y isn’t a worthwhile word. C’mon bookie, be better than this. I’m the meedly-mouthed madmare more minded towards manufacturing mixed malaphors.”
“You know, for a Chaos caricature you’re pretty perceptive about Ponish prose.”
A genuine smile was attempting to appear on Screwball’s muzzle. “And you’ve been laudably letting my lackadaisical lyricism latch onto your own listless lilts. Or have you not noticed a compunction for consonance creeping into this continued casual conversation?”
Twilight gave an inviting laugh. “Alright, you got me there. Maybe you’re a more likable Pony than I gave you credit for. You are still a Pony underneath all that, aren’t you?”
A churlish snap of Screwball’s subsequently disappearing fingers answered Twilight’s question and the two stood eye to eye as equals once again.
“Your posture isn’t as poor as it was earlier,” Twilight noted.
“An acute observation from someone so regularly obtuse,” Screwball was itching an ear with her hind hoof. “Order is a soft enough touch to rub off on Chaos. So it feels, anyway.”
“Mm-hm. Then it’s safe to say you don't still want to get into a Magic Duel?”
Screwball waved the idea off and reclined against the pedestal, back legs crossed under her rump. “Think instead I’ll take your advice to do some cloud watching and navel gazing for a bit. Lay off by laying down so you can finish that walk I interrupted.” Her head was tilted skywards and her eyes looked almost clear for once. “Maybe I’ll be here when you get back, maybe I won’t. Discord sat here a thousand years sifting through his thoughts. Hopefully I’ll get done with my own a little quicker than that.”
“That was pretty impressive, Screwball. You spoke five normal sentences in a row.”
Screwball snorted sheepishly. She pulled her hat over her eyes with one hoof and making a snapping noise with the other. In a flash, Twilight was back in the empty business district square, grinning like a foal for having gotten the last lick in.
“Note to self,” she spoke aloud as she stepped softly down the still sleeping street. “Brag to Shining Armor next time I see him that I finally won an argument. And how it was against someone who already knew indoorsy isn’t a word.”
Author's Note
Here’s the thing about horseshoes: the opposite ends are actually quite close to one another.
Sequel!
E"Like A Real Pony.”
Its been hectic, but Spike has finally settled in as Equestria's inter-species ambassador. His latest (and trickiest) meeting is with an eccentric equine hailing from Discord's dimension. She seems to want help with a personal problem.
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