Discord hated politics.
He hated politics more than the royal maids who always undid the perfect chaos of his study, more than a good joke unlaughed at, more than the pony that had left less than half a spoonful of his chocolate milk powder and put the container back like nothing happened. He glared at the canister in his paw. It used to be rare to see the canister with its mix of bright and muted colors.. The finest chocolate in the world indeed, and there was none left. None to help distract him from the fact Celestia had yet to return from her study, that he would fall asleep alone once again, that he would only see the foggy glances of her behind slipping through the door to begin another day. All because of politics.
He snapped his fingers instead. A glass of perfect chocolate milk appeared before his lopsided eyes. Sipping it with gratitude, he began to float out of the kitchen. The corridor was cooler, just enough to chill him. At 3 in the morning, the hallways in these private areas of the castle were dark and empty. The sole illumination came streaming through the generous windows from the little one’s ball of rock in the sky, her supposed pride and joy, and the pinpricks that littered its backdrop. He shivered a bit, goosebumps working their way up his body. The icy cold of the hallway prodded him to think. He should be in bed. Today had been exhausting as usual, tailing behind his darling Celestia with a reluctance that had threatened to become petulance more than once. He could have been making life more interesting for the ponies in the next town over. It had been at least a week since he'd rearranged their streets into the shape of his own face. He chuckled at the memory. They probably missed him by now. But instead, despite the tedium, despite the lack of any tangible reward, he’d given his days to the mare he adored.
Not so long ago, he reminded himself, it would have been perfectly fine. A day spent with his little Celly would have been enjoyable, even without any chaos. He sighed. Upon taking up the rank of the ‘High Sister’ of Equestria, his little Celly had become busy. She had never been particularly preoccupied with politics, though she had accepted it as her duty in life. He respected and loved her for that. He had expected changes. Less time together, less fun, less doing certain feats of magic that would boggle the minds of simpler ponies. But not this. Not watching her work during “their” time. Not following behind her instead of walking alongside. Not going to bed without her and waking up to her bustling about to get ready for another day of duty, drudgery and distance.
But she loved him. As he floated down the hall he reminded himself that she loved him. She said it every day. She loved him, even as she kept him by her side, silent, his high status and power speaking for themselves. He was a catch. He knew it. His Celestia had one of the most, if not the most, powerful draconequi of Dissonance wrapped around her hoof. She was not to be messed with. Equestria was a world power and she was Equestria. She was no longer just Celestia, the mare he loved.
There was a light in their room. It made him wary for a moment. Perhaps he wasn't in the right frame of mind to deal with her right. A fly around the castle would do him some good, but as the cold nipped at his fingertips, he decided against it; it would only make him more bitter.
“Good night, Celestia.”
The mare jolted as he entered the room.
“Evening, Discord,” she replied, her eyes never leaving the multitude of laws and letters before her. “You burned the bench again.”
His finger tightened around the glass at the mention of the damn bench outside of the delegates’ meeting room. He sat upon the bench because their meetings ran late; they always ran late. Every meeting left him outside of the heavy wooden doors that would mock him with their ornate patterns, their detailed faces turning into hateful sneers. And in his impatient annoyance, he would grip and singe the delicate bench as fire licked at his fingertips.
“Of course I did,” he began, taking another sip of his milk. “It’s not like there’s much else to do while I wait for you.”
Her face twitched slightly. He’d struck a chord.
“Discord...”
“Celestia.” Discord took a final swig of his chocolate milk and tossed the glass up into the air, where it smashed against the high ceiling in a magnificent shower of sparks and smoke. A pillow fell out of nowhere, plopping gracefully into his hand. Slinking over to the bed with new pillow in hand, he made himself comfortable under the sheets and masses of paper. “You never let me speak to the delegates anymore, even Atteris, my own king.”
“I have to keep them in the right state of mind, Discord.”
“How quaint. I thought you trusted me and won’t even let me talk to the ruler of my own country.”
She huffed. One of those huffs. That huff that meant she was annoyed, irritated, and tempted to snap at him for going a snaggletooth out of line. Her lines, anyway. Discord, too far gone into his own aggravation, paid the sound no mind. She could sulk all she wanted. He had been tolerant so far, of her increasing hustle and bustle, of her need to take up the royal duties.
“Discord, you know I have to make a good impression for the good of the country.”
There went the ever political Celestia, the Celestia that had lost all form of personality besides the one for her ‘country’. The Celestia that had lost faith and trust in him.
"Oh, and of course I'm not mature enough to make a good impression on anyone."
Another annoyed huff. How many could she give him before she would run out of breath?
“I love you Discord, but...”
“You don’t trust me.”
He scowled, turning over in the bed. He felt her staring at his back for a moment, as if unsure for once in her life. Inwardly, he chalked it up as a minor victory; how many of those delegates could leave her speechless? A laugh escaped his lips before he noticed the glass upon the bedside table. The glass that looked and smelled like chocolate milk. The special chocolate milk that had only had the dust lining the sides of the tin remaining.
“I trust you. But for the good of the country and its relations...”
“It’s best I not speak?” His tail flicked slightly. The glass taunted him, clumps of powder sticking to the side of the glass, wasted wonder abandoned in favor her impatient stirring. His finger reached out, wiping the forgotten power that lined the rim, sticking the sweet mess into his mouth.
“Discord, you’re being childish.”
Bad timing. He sucked his fingers clean, pleased with the high quality chocolate that his love had squandered. Maybe he was a bit childish. Perhaps. But that wouldn’t stop him from making his point.
“I’m sure you can trust me to converse with those stiff-collars on my own.” He suckled his fingers a bit more. They dove once more into the crusted glass, the saccharine flavor soothing him. “I’m mature enough to know when to make a joke dear.” His tail flew up to stroke under her chin for a moment before pulling back and finishing the wet dust. “And when not to. Surely, you’ve known me long enough.”
Celestia’s face softened at his touch, but only for a moment. Her stern demeanor returned instantly, and her glare cooled and hardened once more.
“I’ve known you since we were children, Discord. Ever since you came here from Dissonance. That does not mean I can allow you to encroach upon my political life.”
“That doesn't mean you have to let your political life squash your personal.”
She remained silent. He glanced back at her, taking note of the sour face she wore, lips pursed and eyes failing to give the papers before her the attention they deserved. She continued with her guilty skimming while the awkward knot in his stomach tightened until the weight of silence strained him to speak.
“Celestia.”
She cringed.
“Yes, Discord?”
“I’m sorry I burned the bench.”
