CHAPTER ONE: MY LITTLE DISCORD

My first memory actually dates back to the day I was born. Needless to say, it was chaotic.
I remember smiling and looking up at my parents in delight- I'm not at all certain why, but something inside of me told me that I had a reason to be happy.
Unlike me, however, my father was not.

My father was a pastel blue Earth Pony named 'Romantica', with a long black mane that drooped down his back. His tale was short and spiked straight and he had the brightest green eyes I had ever seen throughout the entirety of my life. His cutie mark was a black heart with a scroll that wrapped around it elegantly. My mother was a short bright pink alicorn named 'Kind Flight' with a beautiful face but a solemn expression. Her mane was short and light blue with a middle parting, and her tail was short and wavy. Her ears flopped down in a very adorable way. She towered over me, confused but smiling. Her eyes were blue, and her cutie mark was a triple spiral. I turned my head and saw three nurse ponies beside my father. One looked completely tired out and another one was lying on the floor. The third pony, the tallest of all three and the only male nurse present, towered over my father and spoke to him in hushed tones, probably so that my mother would not over hear.

"What is… it?" asked father.
"Some sort of draconequus." Replied the nurse. "I've never witnessed one before, but I remember learning about them back at pony school." He remarked, gazing in my direction.
"Ro, you're a father!" giggled mother, probably a little dizzy because the nurses had put a spell on her to reduce the pain. Father had a stern expression at this, and he loomed his head over mine.
"Are you so sure Flighty?" he said with a straight face, not a single smile purging on his lips.
Mother nodded. "This was a rather chaotic day, wasn't it?" she smiled, cradling me in her arms. "We still have to name him you know." She told my father, caressing my face.
"Call him Chaos." My father murmured, sitting down on a chair beside the hospital bed.
"How about Discord?" pledged forward my mother, tilting her head, her eyes seemed to spin as she regained sanity.
"Discord?" stated father, rubbing his cheek in thought. "It certainly does suit him." He sighed.
"Discord…" whispered my mother, her face beaming as she planted a kiss on my head. "Welcome to the world, my little Discord!"

After that memory, time skipped. My next memory was somewhat later, maybe a year or two. I was sitting on the sofa watching my mother clean up around the living room. She picked up my toys; my loud rattles, my crashing symbols. She looked tiresome, her wings wilting abnormally so, and wrinkles were forming around her eyes. Being an infant, I did not take in to consideration these factors, my poor mother.

It did not matter that I was young, I knew that I was different from her and father, and not just in appearance.
"Mother, why am I not a pony?" I asked, twinkling my eyes up at her. She was so tired, but she looked at me and smiled. "Because you're extra special, with sprinkles on top!" She laughed, booping me on the nose with her hoof. I remember that she always used to say that, every time I was feeling sad.

I'd come home from pony school some days battered and bruised. Of course, all of my class mates were ponies and you can guess why I was bullied. They had made up a little rhyme one class, while we were learning about the different species of ponies, and they always chanted it at me.
"Discord, Discord, not a pony of any sort!"
After school each day, I'd ask my mother the same question. "Why am I not a pony?" and I always got her smiling response. "Because you're extra special, with sprinkles on top!"

In the next moment, my father walked through the door, smiling and giving my mother a kiss on the cheek. "Well Flighty, guess what!" he exclaimed, clopping his hooves on the floor in excitement. My mother looked up at him, her smile shining "What is it Ro? Tell me, tell me!" she had said. "My new novel has been selling really well, and my publisher wants us to move to Canterlot!" My mother squealed in delight at this news.
"Well done! I am so proud of you! When are we moving?" she had asked.
"As soon as possible!"
"Where's Canterlot, father?" I asked him. His smile stopped completely, and he frowned as he looked at me. My father never made eye contact with me; he only ever looked at me, or through me.
"A city, we're moving there." He said "And don't call me father." his voice monotone with no sense of happiness at all. My mother looked at the floor, saddened, and father went in to the other room.
"Why am I not allowed to call father… father?" I remember asking my mother. She sighed, and smiled at me pathetically. "Because… because you must call him sir!" she said, her upper lip quivering as she ran in to the room my father went in to.

I can't remember what they were arguing about, but there was shouting… A lot of shouting. I only caught a few words;
"We should have given him away when he was born." Shouted father, he was furious. "He's not a pony, of any sort."
I heard the tears of mother, but then a strange giggle that seemed to appear out of nowhere.
"No… He's extra special, with sprinkles on top."