Discord’s ‘Twilight Sparkle Incursion’ alarm sounded, the klaxon sounding suspiciously like the whine of air escaping a deflating balloon.
This was odd for several reasons, the largest of which was the fact that he didn’t realize he *had* a Twilight Sparkle Incursion alarm, followed by the fact that he didn’t know how Twilight could have possibly found her way into the Realm of Chaos.
Odd indeed.
He found the alarm (shaped like a mulberry-colored piggy bank made out of rubber, its mouth closed over her tongue in a classic ‘raspberry’ formation, making the alarm klaxon) and bopped it on the head. That, thankfully, worked (though the Twilight-pig gave him a particularly Twilight-esque look of consternation) and the alarm ended.
Now it was time to find the source of the incursion. It was entirely possible for the Realm of Chaos to produce a Twilight Sparkle Incursion alarm that responded to something other than a Twilight Sparkle incursion. The only consistent thing about his home, after all, was inconsistency. Except when consistency was inconsistent, being consistent in unexpected ways.
He tried not to think too hard about that.
Following an instinct he didn’t understand, he tapped the Twilight Sparkle piggy bank’s snout again.
“SHE’S IN THE LIBRARY!” Sparklepig shouted.
Well, that made sense. Twilight Sparkle would be in his library. The only problem was, he wasn’t sure he had a library in the Realm of Chaos before this point.
Interesting. Time to find Twilight Sparkle. And the library, apparently.
The library turned out to be right next door to the popcorn factory and the duck pond. It was a shockingly euclidean structure, which of course made it stand out from the popcorn factory’s convex walls and the duck pond’s industrial waste disposal chute. It was fairly modest, with a square roof and a single floor. He floated through the doors.
Besides the shelves being upside down, it looked like a regular library. A hint of chaos overlaying an otherwise expected form; the exact sort of thing Twilight would be expecting to see in the Realm of Chaos. Maybe she was here.
“W-what? This makes no sense! Who would shelve Starswirl’s Reflections in non-fiction, everypony knows that the third edition was so heavily edited as to make it parody at best.” The muttered outrage, in Twilight’s voice, was a beacon to Discord’s ears as he floated through the rows of upside-down shelves. “And a first-edition Ogres and Oubliettes handbook? That doesn’t…”
“Twilight Sparkle!” Discord said, poking his head through the nearest shelf. Twilight’s shriek was loud enough to shake the shelves. “What a pleasant surprise!”
The Princess of Friendship, startled into flight, looked at Discord with murder eyes. Unrepentantly, he floated the rest of the way through the shelf.
“Y-you did that on purpose,” she accused as she landed. Discord merely smiled as a golden halo materialized above his head.
Twilight grabbed it with a wing-tip and shook it at him.
“Is this your library? Whoever’s doing your shelving needs a lesson in modern library sciences. The organization is totally inefficient.”
“Your feedback is very important to us,” Discord intoned. “We will alert management to your comments at our earliest convenience.”
She scowled again, and shook her head, muttering. “I don’t know what I expected.” She stared a bit, and let out a huff. “Here.”
She extended her hooves. Inside was a package, brightly wrapped in red and green foil.
“Happy Hearth’s Warming,” she said, her scowl fading. Hesitating, he reached out a claw and took the package.
“What’s this?”
“A gift,” she said, her expression finally softening to a smile. “It took me a long while to figure out what the best thing to give you would be. You’re not an easy creature to shop for, you know. What do you give somebody who can make anything appear ex nihilo?”
“Only when comedically appropriate,” he mumbled, distracted as he examined the package. Few ponies understood that limitation in his powers. “Can I open it?”
“Go ahead,” Twilight said, watching him intently, a twinkle in her eye.
He did so, tearing the shiny paper, ignoring the way the ripped pieces fluttered away like dragonflies. He found himself rather curious.
Inside was a box, a small wooden chest with metal hinges. The wood was not something he recognized: a pale blond, unstained but lacquered, with iron hinges. Something about it felt odd. Unnatural, even.
Well. Unnatural in this place.
The chest was hinged. He opened it slowly.
The library was filled with the tinny chime of a music box song; a mournful, lonely tune. Ingenious mechanical contrivance revealed a pegasus mare made of pewter, with a long flowing mane and gracefully spread wings, spinning slowly as the song played. It wasn’t necessarily Fluttershy, but the resemblance was close enough to make him peer more closely.
He was still getting the same odd, unnatural feeling from the piece, even as he listened carefully to the tune: a tune he’d never heard before.
“Okay. What’s the punchline?”
“It’s enchanted,” Twilight said proudly. “And made of cold iron and axiomatic oak on the outside, with meteoric iron and quicksilver on the inside.”
Materials known for binding chaos surrounding materials excellent for channeling chaotic enchantments?
“Every time you open it, it will play a unique song. Something that nopony has ever heard before…or will ever hear again. And because of the binding spells I placed in it, even you cannot use your magic to replicate this music box. It is a perfectly unique item; incapable of ever being copied. It is the only one that will ever exist. Utterly unique and different and irreplaceable. Like you.”
“You made this?” he said slowly. Twilight nodded, nervously. Discord blinked. “I…”
It was rare for him to find himself speechless. It was such a small thing, an insignificant trinket, but something that would withstand the ravages of his home. Quite possibly for an eternity. It was something he never would have thought of getting for itself… and something, probably, that would be around long after Fluttershy passed.
In other words, it was a good, thoughtful gift.
“Thank you,” he said earnestly.
“You really like it?” she asked. She was suspicious of him. It made sense; she had good reason to be.
“I do,” he said, and when she eyed him with such disbelief that he felt compelled to add, “It’s not really possible to lie in this place.”
As soon as he said it, Discord cursed himself. He saw the question, the spark of curiosity, light up in Twilight’s eyes. Of course her brilliant mind would wonder what he meant. And he didn’t want her looking too deeply into the nature of this realm.
Twilight’s mouth opened, a question ready to roll off her tongue, but he held up a claw, stopping her short.
“More importantly, did you really just breach the Undefined Realms simply to give me a gift? The sentiment is appreciated, but this place can be dangerous.”
“No,” she frowned, brows furrowing. “I… I’ve been carrying the gift around. You always manage to turn up at unexpected times, Discord. I don’t know how I ended up here. I thought you brought me, but—”
“Magical accidents could lead one to be accidentally transported here, if one were experimenting with strange new magic,” Discord noted. He needed to get her off-balance, so she didn’t ask too many questions and he could get her home safely. “Are you or your subjects working on anything strange or dangerous, Princess?”
Her eyes went wide. “I… er… nothing that should concern you, Discord! We’re merely trying to…” She stopped, cleared her throat. “There may have been some magical accident involved, yes. Several palace mages are working on new methods of teleportation. But—”
“I can help you get home,” he said. “It’s the least I could do after this thoughtful gift. Simple, really, just a snap of the fingers…”
“But—!”
And he snapped his fingers.
A trio of books flew off the shelves, opening in a triangle formation floating in the air. Twilight gaped.
“Time to really disappear into a good book, Twilight,” Discord cackled, as a portal appeared in the space between Equestrian Cuisine Through the Ages, Ascension at Twilight: The Unauthorized Biography, and A Hiker’s Companion to Canterhorn Mountain.
“Discord!” Twilight wailed in dismay as the portal sucked her through, depositing her (he hoped) back safely in Canterlot Castle.
He should probably check on that. He looked at the music box in his hand, and felt a pang of guilt.
Twilight Sparkle really was trying to be a good friend. Perhaps Discord should be one, too. And the first step to that would be to keep her from coming back here unescorted.
No matter how curious she grew.
“I had a visit from Twilight Sparkle the other day.”
Fluttershy’s cottage, as always, was a model of easy comfort. Every surface clean of dust, doilies and floral arrangements on every table, and the tea sets matched.
His tea tasted of root beer and seaweed; the single concession, besides his own presence, to chaos.
“Oh?” Flutershy said, eyes flicking to him over her own cup. Ginseng, he guessed from the smell, though it was regretfully non-melodic at the moment.
“The advanced classes at Celestia’s old school have been experimenting with expanding teleportation magic,” he said. “They’re trying to make stationary portals. So Twilight was visiting last Tuesday—”
“Wasn’t that the day Treehugger was doing a guest lecture on—”
“Magically-enhanced ergot based hallucinogens, yes,” Discord interrupted. Treehugger was still a bit of a sore subject for him. “Twilight was assisting her for her lecture. I imagine keeping her focused. That Twighugger is a few crayons short of a—”
“Discord,” Fluttershy said warningly, and he waved a claw.
“Whatever,” he said dismissively. “As far as I can tell, there was some cross-contamination between the concoctions Treehugger had brought as demonstration and the teleportation magic being tested two floors up, leading to Twilight’s involuntary tourism.”
“Goodness,” Fluttershy breathed. “Was anypony hurt?”
“Not at all,” Discord said. “But I did get to have a short visit from Twilight in my home. She made me a library, apparently, and dropped off her Hearth’s Warming gift.”
The casual subject of their conversation certainly belied the concern he felt.
“Oh!” Fluttershy smiled. “Did you like it?” She didn’t ask what it was, Discord noted. So she’d known. That made sense. “I did help her make it,” she finished humbly.
“It was a thoughtful gift,” Discord said earnestly. “Quite touching.”
Fluttershy nodded, taking what he was saying at face value. He always appreciated that about her. “But you’re upset about her visit.”
Internally he flinched. He didn’t want to have this conversation with her.
“Yes,” he said. “I don’t want Twilight Sparkle in the Realm of Chaos.”
“Okay.” Fluttershy sipped her tea, taking her time. Sometimes her ability to sit in silence and think made him squirm. He was a creature of impulse, of hasty decision and equally hasty action. The seconds ticked on. “Why?”
Discord sighed. He hadn’t expected her to let this go. Still, no point making it easy.
“I’m a very private person,” he said, as a flash of light adorned him in a big floppy hat, large sunglasses, and a scarf; the kind of garb a celebrity in public would wear to avoid attention. “I enjoy my solitude.”
“Ah,” Fluttershy said, and sipped. She let the silence drag on enough to make the scarf itch on Discord’s throat. “Is that why you spend so much time around other ponies? You’ve even invited me on multiple occasions to your home.”
He resisted the urge to scratch at the scarf, finally just snapping his fingers to make it and the rest of his ex nihilo costume disappear. “You are, of course, an exception to the rule.”
“You told me you were trying to be better friends with her,” Fluttershy said. “I know she feels the same. She’s trying to understand you more.”
That was true, as well. After his… slight fumble in the Grogar incident, he’d had a bit of an epiphany; maybe his impulses were not always wise. A touch of stability, the occasional outside perspective on his schemes, and even a closer relationship with the Princess of Friendship, might help to avoid those little snags in the future.
Not always, though. Life needed a little randomness every so often.
“I do wish to be closer friends with Twilight,” he said finally. “But she doesn’t belong there.”
“She’s always been curious about your home. Twilight Sparkle is a scientist at heart; a researcher. Of course she’d want to explore something so new and fascinating. It could even be a point of connection between the two of you; I’m sure you would both have a lot of insight for each other.”
It was such an innocent and hopeful thing to say, but it sent a chill down Discord’s serpentine spine. She didn’t understand.
But it was Fluttershy. He could trust her. But she didn’t, and maybe wouldn’t, understand.
“That’s not it,” he confessed. “She’s too much for the Realm of Chaos.”
Fluttershy opened her mouth to respond, but he stopped her with a claw on her muzzle.
“Wait. Let me explain.” He couldn’t explain. Not fully. Not in a way that would make sense to her. “It’s dangerous for her.”
“Twilight Sparkle is—”
“No, don’t,” he interrupted again. “I know she’s careful and methodical. I know she’s brilliant. But the Realm of Chaos will take those traits and amplify them in scary ways. Its magic is…” he paused for thought. He couldn’t explain himself too much. “...complicated. You’re safe, because you accept my home as it is. You don’t need to understand exactly how and why it all works. Twilight does, and the more she looks, the more it will corrupt her.”
He looked deep into her eyes, as if to will her to understand. To understand, and perhaps to ask no more. There were questions he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, answer.
“Okay,” Fluttershy said, nodding slowly. “How do we dissuade her, then?”
Discord felt a surge of affection for his first friend. She trusted him. If only Twilight did the same… then he wouldn’t be in this conundrum.
“I don’t know,” he said. A terrifying thought occurred to him, though.
“You just had an idea that you don’t like,” Fluttershy said.
He scowled at her, and reached behind her head to her mane, retrieving a small book titled ‘Discord’s Mind’. “Stop reading my mind.”
She took the book back with a small giggle, even opening it to a random page.
“Discord is worried about Twilight’s safety,” she read, while he pouted. “Worried enough to do something even he finds scary; ask Celestia for help.”
“Stop it!” he said, snatching the book from her again.
“Celestia would be happy to help,” Fluttershy said. “If you—”
There was a flash of light, and for the second time in its existence, the Sparklepig gave warning of a Twilight Sparkle incursion into the Realm of Chaos.
Fluttershy nearly dropped her teacup in shock, sloshing tea over her hoof.
Discord shouted some words that he had learned from Rarity (that time he’d accidentally transmogrified all her velvet to spandex), words that made Fluttershy actually drop her teacup in shock.
“I’ll be back,” he said, snatching the Sparklepig out of the air and booping her nose to pause the alarm. “Look after her.”
And he snapped his fingers.
Twilight Sparkle was not in the library this time. Discord had left it like it was when she’d inadvertently created it; admittedly it wasn’t very chaotic (besides having upside down bookshelves and a questionable filing system) but it reminded him of her, and of her thoughtful gift.
Maybe he should have asked the Sparklepig where she was before teleporting away so abruptly. But Fluttershy had been saying some rather uncomfortable things.
Asking for Celestia’s help indeed.
So he did the next best thing to asking for help: wandering around aimlessly in hopes that random chance would bring him in contact with his quarry.
In the Realm of Chaos, spacial relationships sometimes shifted unexpectedly (or stayed the same unexpectedly) so he was actually a little alarmed to find the tea grove he’d planted just for Fluttershy (flourishing, and brilliantly festooned with seasonal lights… when had those gotten there?) right next to his home.
Right where he’d left it.
That was odd.
What was more odd was the alicorn fluttering right above the little grove. He was fairly certain he hadn’t put that there.
“Discord!”
Princess Twilight managed to sound annoyed, hopeful, and happy to see him all at the same time.
“You’re into horticulture? I don’t know much about growing tea plants, but I can tell these plants are quite healthy! How do you manage, without a natural sun? This is really quite impressive.”
She was skipping a number of the regular, empty pleasantries that he expected when dealing with ponies, but that was another part of Twilight Sparkle’s charm.
She really was worth getting closer to, he thought. If only he could keep her from disaster. But he had to go gently.
“Thank you,” he said with a gracious bow. A flicker of light changed the color of both of his thumbs to green. “It took a while to cultivate the plants, and the talent for it.”
“And not just a snap of your fingers?” Twilight asked with a hint of suspicion.
A halo appeared above Discord’s head, and Twilight snorted.
“More importantly,” Discord said, waving away the halo as if it were a particularly persistent mosquito, “why are you here? Not that visitors are unwelcome…”
A slight bending of the truth, if only because he didn’t welcome the danger Twilight was inviting on herself.
“You made me leave so abruptly last time that I didn’t have a chance to even say goodbye! The magical accident wasn’t that hard to recreate once I’d done it the first time. I wanted to see where you live, Discord. Are you so averse to company?”
She wasn’t being entirely honest herself; the princess was wearing saddlebags, and Discord could see a notebook and spare quills protruding from one of them. She’d come prepared to take notes.
“Oh? Visiting me is the only reason you came?” Discord prodded, and Twilight blushed appropriately.
“Well, no. It’s a whole new world to study, with its own rules and laws and physics! I could be the first scholar to truly document the Realm of Chaos!”
Not the first, a voice echoed in the back of Discord’s memory, a haunting reminiscence that he shoved deep and hard and far away.
“So nice of you to send me notice of your expedition beforehoof, then,” he said lightly, and she flinched.
“W-well, I did some research!” she shot back defiantly. “The Realm of Chaos does not belong to you, you only live here! And I came straight to your home once I arrived!”
That was true enough. But still, she didn’t understand. And he couldn’t explain, not without exposing her to even more danger.
Best to try and get rid of her as quickly as possible, and then…
…then…the worst possible option. Asking Celestia for help.
“Well then, Twilight Sparkle. You have some questions. Come see my home, and I’ll answer them! And maybe you can try some of my tea!”
He tried to ignore the growing dread in his heart… much harder when he saw Twilight’s eyes.
They were changing. The right one was shifting from purple, to blue, to turquoise. The left one stayed the same color, but the pupil was elongating.
“It may be best, in the future, if you don’t come unannounced, though,” he said, hiding the fear he felt as he guided her to his cottage. “The Realm of Chaos can be a danger to the inexperienced.”
“Can it, though?” Twilight said, following his lead. He glanced again. Her eyes were back to normal. “You can guide me.”
“Will you listen to my advice?” he asked, trying to sound amused. She laughed. “I’m serious, Twilight. This place is nothing to be trifled with. There’s different rules.”
He opened the door to his home. It was set for tea; it always was, now, when he had guests, though at least there were a dozen staircases leading to nowhere. The windows were all funhouse mirrors; a little mundane for him, perhaps, but maybe not for Twilight.
Fluttershy’s touch was evident; he’d let her decorate for Hearth’s Warming. The tree was upside down (Thorax’s idea, actually). The wreaths held tiny portals to a particularly hopping cabaret in Fillydelphia (and the ornaments that decorated the wreaths’ greenery were miniature musician ponies in miniature tuxedos.
“I know. You said something last time.” She frowned a little remembering the circumstances. “It was a hint, I think. You said you couldn’t tell lies in the Realm of Chaos.”
She pointed a wing at him. It was membranous like a bat’s. She didn’t notice. He waved to a chair; Fluttershy’s plush seat that she used when she visited. He flicked his fingers, and an apple barrel appeared for him to sit across the tea table from her.
The tea poured itself, singing a jazzy tune as it did so.
“You were hinting at the magic of this place,” Twilight continued. “The rules. The reason you can’t tell lies here has to do with a pony’s will, doesn’t it? Something about manifesting your words into reality.”
She was far too smart for her own good.
“I want to know how it works,” she said eagerly. “Is that how you’re able to summon props out of nowhere, even in our world? You’re drawing in bits of the Realm of Chaos, and your will shapes it into what you want.”
“A bit more complicated than that,” Discord said, his heart racing. “But in the essentials, yes.”
“Can it be learned?” she said, leaning forward.
“Try the tea,” he said, feeling sick. “It’s one of Fluttershy’s favorites.”
“Discord,” Twilight said. “Can it be learned?”
“Not… how you’re thinking.”
“But that’s not a no,” Twilight said. “You really can’t lie here, can you? Okay. Well, I will learn all about the Realm of Chaos, then. I will it so.”
She raised a foreleg, pointing the dragon’s talon at the end of it at him, as if in challenge.
Discord held up a claw at her. “Hold your proverbial horses, Princess,” he said lightly, his heart pounding. “If you choose, I’ll teach you what I can.”
He was very careful with his wording. She opened her mouth to respond. “But! I need time to write a curriculum. Plus, you have the castle staff’s Hearth’s Warming party coming up, and your own get-together with your friends. If you promise to wait until the new year, I promise to come up with the best way to teach you.”
The offering to write a curriculum may have been a stroke of genius. She considered, and nodded, still ignorant of the second horn she’d sprouted for an eyeblink.
“In the new year, then,” she said, sipping her tea. “Wow, you’re right. This is good.”
He smiled, trying not to feel ill.
“Next up on open mic night is a first-timer, a sweet mare with a sharp mind. Give a warm, Vanhoover welcome (and a Happy Hearth’s Warming) to… Sunny Day!”
A smattering of applause filled the dimly-lit tavern as a white unicorn with a coral colored mane trotted out on stage. The crowd numbered only in the dozens; the Laugh Lounge was a small, intimate club, best suited to those just testing out their act.
As Celestia was. In disguise, of course. It wasn’t her first time on stage, but it was her first time with her new standup act, and most of the crowd (besides the equally disguised dark blue ‘pegasus’ mare in the back corner, eyeing her with amusement and anticipation) had no idea who she was.
Celestia waited for the applause to die down before opening her muzzle.
There was a flash of light, and a panicked shout.
“OKAY SHOW’S OVER IT’S MY TURN NOW EVERYPONY OUT I HAVE TO TALK TO THE UNFUNNY MARE ON STAGE!”
There was just enough time for a few gasps of shock before a second flash of light emptied the room… and Discord was standing alone with ‘Sunny’, on a well-lit stage, in a completely empty comedy club.
Even the dragon bartender had disappeared. And Luna, too!
“Discord,” Celestia began warningly.
“What?” he asked. “They’re fine, Luna’s with them. It’s… consider it my Hearth’s Warming present to her. An all-expenses paid cruise. Sure, they got teleported to the middle of it, but I’m sure your sister can sort things out, she’s smart like that. And the crown will cover all of Iron Will’s expenses for having seventeen new guests show up out of nowhere.”
“Discord,” Celestia growled. Her horn blazed and she shed her disguise, growing in size.
“It’s important! An emergency! Twilight in danger! And it’s not my fault this time!”
She glared. Discord cringed.
“Really! I had nothing to do with this! I tried to prevent it! And I need your help.”
He was tempted to add a visual. A halo, to suggest innocence. Maybe enlarging his eyes to appear sincere. But he held off.
“Please, Celestia,” he said.
She relented, her horn going out. “Start at the beginning.”
“No need,” he said. “Twilight Sparkle has made it clear that she intends to study and master the magic of the Realm of Chaos. I believe she will do it with or without my help, though she has consented to wait until the new year.”
Celestia’s expression shifted from anger, to alarm, to dread.
“Oh no,” was all she said.
Discord floated offstage to sit in a now-empty chair at one of the club’s front tables.
“I need to dissuade her. How do you convince Twilight Sparkle to not study something once she’s started?”
Celestia huffed, moving to sit at the edge of the stage. “I couldn’t. Not really. Distraction always worked the best; when I didn’t want her to study Nightmare Moon, I kept her busy with other tasks. Twilight was always easiest to guide when she had a goal I could point her at…” she shook her head. “She doesn’t respond well to boundaries, seeing them as obstacles to be eventually overcome.”
“The Realm of Chaos will respond to that,” Discord said.
“I know. I knew a pony once. Clover’s apprentice.”
Discord held up a claw.
“No.”
“But…”
“No. I’m not remembering that. I’m not talking about that.”
“But he situation is identi—”
“No, Celestia. Nothing will come of it. Nopony involved in… that incident can be saved.”
Celestia looked pained, as if struck.
“Twilight is not the same as…” he flinched. “...that pony. We can still save her.”
“Like we couldn’t save you?”
Her voice was compassionate, but it dug into Discord’s brain like talons of madness.
“Out of curiosity,” Celestia said, “and with no insult intended, I wonder why you, of all people, wouldn’t just let it happen? I’d heard you were trying to get closer with Twilight, to strengthen your friendship with her. I’d almost wondered…”
She blushed, and changed what she was going to say.
“...nevermind. Still, it seems as if an equal wouldn’t be too bad of an outcome for you?”
“No,” Discord said, breathing hard. But the idea was insidious. A small voice in his head latched onto it. Maybe not the best for her, but would it be good for you? You have no true peer. Perhaps a real friend for once, instead of the pretense you seem to put on for the others? Maybe even more than friends, as Celestia just implied. Finally, an equal.
He buried the voice deep, but it didn’t die. It just… muted a little. “No. Not for her. It’s not worth it. It would ruin her mind, Celestia, and you know it.”
“Like it ruined…” He looked at her sharply, and she adjusted again. “...like it ruined Clover’s apprentice.”
“Yes,” Discord whispered. “The madness. The ambition. The selfishness. She’d crawl out of it someday, but… changed. It’s not worth it.”
“So it’s not jealousy, but a protective instinct,” Celestia said, with a small smile. “Very interesting.”
“We don’t have time for this,” Discord said, slashing a claw. “I trust Twilight’s restraint about as far as you trust my sense of decorum. She’ll try again, and soon. We need a plan.”
“And simply telling her the truth won’t work?” Celestia asked.
Discord shook his head. “Did it work for Clover’s student? No, the Realm’s magic is already starting to seep into her. She was changing, Celestia. She didn’t even notice.”
“You’ll have to anyways,” she said. “While we come up with a way to distract her. Something big and important, like I did with Nightmare Moon. And while she is too busy to…” she waved a hoof, looking for the word, “...continue to steep herself in chaos magic, you can explain the danger. With time away, too much to do, and something to keep her mind occupied, she might just listen and pull away for her own safety.”
“What would distract her enough?”
“I don’t know,” Celestia said. “You could always ask her on a date.”
Discord exploded.
“I was right,” Discord told Fluttershy as they worked in her garden. He had one finger cocked like some kind of firearm, his eyes on the lookout for any weeds to zap, while Fluttershy carefully pruned the dead leaves from her bean vines. “Going to Celestia was a disaster. She made all kinds of… accusations and implications that were entirely inappropriate.”
He poured just a little too much of his vehemence into a blast of magic, reducing an offensive milkweed into atoms and leaving a dark scorch between a pair of tomato plants.
“So she made you uncomfortable,” Fluttershy said calmly. “But was anything she suggested wrong? Or untrue?”
“I wish to speak about something else immediately,” Discord said primly, blasting another milkweed into dust. Fluttershy gave a light giggle.
“It’s working, though? The plan you came up with?”
“It is,” he said. “All it took was three engineered natural disasters… ones that, of course, will take all of Twilight’s attention to detail, magical acumen, and engineering expertise to resolve.”
“Discord, did you hurt ponies?” Fluttershy said, and he waved a claw frantically.
“Oh, no no no! I made sure Twilight got there in time. And Celestia and Luna both were on hoof, and aware of the plan, in case something went wrong. Hidden, of course.” He frowned. “It was like old times. Celestia and Luna, more than capable of handling a problem, but allowing Twilight to do so anyways while pretending to be absent or helpless.”
Fluttershy frowned. She didn’t like anypony to be spoken poorly of, especially not the princesses.
“She should be busy for months now, working on upgrades to the Vanhoover Dam and the Paneighma Canal,” Discord said. “So I can safely retire the Sparklepig.”
“No you can’t,” the Sparklepig said.
Both of them looked at the new arrival sharply. The Sparklepig sat proudly atop one of Fluttershy’s fence posts.
“Serves you right for leaving me here last time,” she said. “Oh, and there’s another incursion. Thought you should know.”
“When did it learn how to speak?” Discord wondered, even as the fear surged up his throat. He wanted to be sick.
“Just go,” Fluttershy said. “I’ll have a word with the rubber pig.”
Sparklepig had the grace to look worried.
But Discord was already in motion; he cracked open one of Fluttershy’s eggplants, allowing the yolk to pool down onto the ground. It shimmered with magic.
“Back soon, I hope,” Discord said, and hopped through the yolk…
…and into pure chaos.
To be fair, his home was supposed to be pure chaos. But not pure chaos like this. There wasn’t supposed to be a laboratory here, next to the library. There weren't supposed to be so many books either. There also certainly wasn’t supposed to be a purple pony princess, her limbs and colors shifting about into new shapes and hues as she frantically wrote notes into a notebook, surrounded by laboratory equipment.
“Good, you’re here,” Twilight said, her voice cycling through a siren’s sensual lilt and a griffon’s harsh cry. “I have questions.”
“Mine first,” Discord said. “Why are you here, Twilight Sparkle? We had an arrangement.”
He tried to sound betrayed. What he truly felt, though, was fear.
Fear, and a sense of something else. Longing? Loss?
It was hard to pin down.
That’s a lie, said his sneaky inner voice. You know exactly what you’re feeling right now. Because even if you’ve tried to forget, even if you’ve buried it behind your madness…
…you remember a moment almost identical to this one.
“I broke it,” she said. “Bribed your alarm. She likes books. I’ve been here seven times now; your silly little distractions didn’t work. There’s too much potential here, and you were hiding it from me. Lying to me.”
The suspicion in her voice was terrifyingly familiar.
“I didn’t lie, Twilight,” he said gently. “I was trying to protect you.”
Maybe he should have told her the danger from the beginning. But he had a sinking suspicion they would have ended up here anyways.
“Protect me?” Twilight howled. “You were hiding all of this from me!”
She continued to experiment, making objects appear out of nowhere, then inspecting them, and taking notes.
“Because you were too jealous, too greedy! You wanted to keep this power to yourself, instead of sharing it with ponykind!”
“That was why I didn’t tell you,” he sighed. “I was sure you’d think that of me, and dive in anyways. Which is exactly what you did, isn’t it?”
His mind raced. From the rate of transformation, he guessed he might already be too late. Twilight’s body was losing incorporation, and from the way she was darting from experiment to experiment (and from her notes… even from a distance he could see they were in four separate languages!) her mind was fragmenting, as well.
What could he do? She was already corrupted by the magic. And it was his fault. He’d misjudged and misstepped. Again.
“Just like usual, you only care about yourself,” Twilight said. The paranoia in her voice was like an oil slick floating atop a pristine lake. “You torment and tease us, and keep all of this bounty to yourself. You’re not here to help, you’re here to stop me.”
But do you need to stop her?
That voice again.
Why even try? Celestia herself brought it up. You have no peer, no equal, no mate. Would it be so bad to just… step back, and let her shatter? Let the realm remake her into something wonderful? Something amazing? Something unique?
But… she already was unique. Twilight Sparkle was worthy as she was. She was one-of-a-kind. Silly, smart, kind… sometimes anxious, often obsessive. Regal when she forgot herself, and condescending when she was certain she was right. Arrogant at times, but humble at others. And above all else…
A different voice filled his head; Twilight’s own, when she’d given him the gift.
Utterly unique and different and irreplaceable. Like you.
The world needed her as she was. Not as a draconequus like him.
“Oh, Henry,” Discord swore. “This is gonna be one of those kinds of stories, isn’t it?”
Maybe there was some poetry in the sacrifice; giving up something utterly unique to potentially save something utterly unique. He’d ask Twilight about it later, if she survived with her mind intact.
“One moment, Twilight.”
She didn’t even notice him flit away to his cottage. The item in question was sitting on his tea table, where it had been last time Fluttershy had visited. He snatched it with only a moment’s pang of regret.
Oh well.
When he returned, things were even worse. Twilight’s bodily transformation was nearly complete. One hindlimb looked like a griffon’s paw, with a second as an octopus’ tentacle. Her right forehoof was a dragon’s talon, while her left was a monkey’s paw.
Fitting, given the ‘power’ of the Realm of Chaos she was so greedily sucking into herself.
Her horn had split into three, mismatched and asymmetrical on her forehead. And her wings were like a dragonfly’s.
Her muzzle was full of sharp, pointed teeth.
“WHAAAAAT IIIIIISSSS HAAAAAAPENNNING?!” she howled. He could hear the pain and fear in her voice. “DIIIISSSSSSCOOOOORD!”
He didn’t remember this part. He’d shut away that part of his mind. But he knew, academically, that once upon a time, Clover the Clever had had a student. And that student had made a discovery: an alternate dimension, where a pony’s will ruled. Where infinite magic could power infinite creation. He knew this student had drunk deep of the power. And had changed.
Broken.
He knew the madness that had followed. The cruelty. And he knew a thousand years had passed before that student had started to shed the sociopathy, the capriciousness, and the evil, to become something more.
Twilight opened her mouth for another wail.
Discord didn’t hesitate. Turning the key on the music box he held, so that it began (for the last time) it’s utterly unique song, he shoved it deep into Twilight’s toothy maw.
There was a flash of cerulean light.
Discord (and Twilight Sparkle) exploded again.
Fluttershy fretted in her cottage, sitting on her fainting couch next to a disgruntled looking rubber pig (in Twilight Sparkle’s colors).
Opposite her sat Celestia, looking just as worried.
“Do you think we should…”
There was a flash of light. Celestia jumped, startled. Fluttershy merely blinked; this sort of antic was typical when Discord was involved.
He floated above Fluttershy’s tea table. His expression was oddly serene; his long muzzle turned up in a slight smile, his eyes tender. His lion’s paw was torn and bloody; as if some savage creature had bitten him. But otherwise he appeared unharmed.
In his arms he cradled the still form of Twilight Sparkle. She looked wholly herself; sleeping, or perhaps unconscious.
Celestia surged to her hooves.
“Is she—”
“She’s fine,” Discord said, setting her down gently on Fluttershy’s couch next to Fluttershy. Sparklepig was knocked aside with a dismissive flick of Discord’s talon, and he and Fluttershy arranged the princess on the couch. “Just sleeping off her ordeal.”
“She’s still a pony,” Celestia said, sounding surprised.
Discord quirked a grin. “What did you expect, Celestia?”
Celestia blushed, too polite to say what she had expected.
But Discord knew. “I was tempted. But then I remembered the gift she gave me.”
“Oh?”
Discord shook his head, grinning. “It’s okay. I gave it right back.”
The looks of confusion both mares gave him was more gratifying than he’d ever expected.
