("My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic," its characters and situations are copyright of their respective owners. Story copyright 2014 by George Pollock, Jr.)

The Powers That Be

by George Pollock, Jr.

Fool, she thought. And wanted to spit.

She remembered the cloying kindness of Twilight Sparkle and wanted to spit. On the ground. On somepony. On Twilight Sparkle, if that could ever be possible.

And now it might be.

Twilight Sparkle.

Fool, she thought.

Make friends with these insipid bipeds – "humans," they called themselves – at Canterlot High School. They'd help you find your way to friendship and a better way, Twilight had cloyed kindly, then returned to Equestria through the portal.

Well, not the portal itself. The portal itself in the stallion statue's base had been destroyed. The face of the base – the passage home to Equestria – had been blasted beyond bits to rubble. It was dead. But Twilight Sparkle – Princess Twilight Sparkle – hadn't needed the portal, after all. Merely her crown. Her powers. The powers that had been inside her all along.

The powers she – Sunset Shimmer – had known. For one bright, dark moment, she had known.

The incredible powers. The powers that had made her feel like a new being – one of terror and might that had looked down upon Twilight and the "humans" from on high and deemed them her slaves. Her toys. No – insects to be played with, then crushed. For that one sliver of an instant, it had felt good. It had felt very good.

Fools, she thought. And wanted to spit.

Because she might not be through. Not at all, it seemed.

The morning after her defeat, she had awoken. And felt strange. The world felt different. As if she had a stronger connection to it. That she was part of the very fabric of it.

It wasn't a touchy-feely state of mind. She lay in bed and looked at an alarm clock and knew what it was to be an alarm clock. The steady movement of gears and the pervasive flow of electricity from the battery, and the sleepy patience while awaiting the alarm hour and then bursting into insistent life – and being silenced rudely. She felt it.

She got up and walked into the kitchen at the home of the "humans" she had somehow ended up living with – a "foster family," it was called. Nopony – here, they said "no one" – had any explanation, or memory, of how she had arrived there. Not even her. Everypony – "everyone" – seemed to simply accept that it had always been that way. "No one" seemed very concerned about the question, anyway. For herself, she didn't care; she despised the "humans" there, in any event.

She saw a chair at the kitchen table and felt its discomfort of awkward unsolicited intimacy. She looked at the table and felt its anxious expectation of another burden – heavy or light, it didn't matter. There was just the tension of waiting.

She was hungry. She wanted cereal.

She ignored the sensations that she received from a spoon, bowl and box of cereal. They felt nothing that interested her. Then she opened the refrigerator to get milk. She felt the appliance's sense of polar duty, shielding its contents from the ravages of time and nature – knowing all the while that someday, all things will decay and pass.

Refrigerators, she thought, feel too much.

She saw a bottle of milk in the back and reached for it. It, in turn, scooted about a third of a meter forward toward her hand. When it arrived, she merely had to close her grasp around the neck.

Refrigerators, she thought, were very surprising.

She stood for a while, still holding the bottle. Close the door, the refrigerator finally felt, or all will decay and pass.

Shut up, she thought.

Heightened senses, she concluded. No – heightened perception beyond the senses. Telekinesis, too. A cumbersome word but correct.

She had powers. Still.

Some still lay within her. Some had been left with her. How, she didn't know or particularly care. She still had powers.

And she still could rule, she realized, with powers. Rule the world of "humans" to which she had been banished.

Rule "humans" …? Fools, she thought. And wanted to spit.

She had no desire to rule over two-footed fools. But the rule over the fools in Equestria, who had been ignorant and blind to her potential? To her powers …?

Maybe she was not done yet.

Because maybe … no – she did have powers.

Please close the door, the refrigerator felt again.

Shut up, she thought again, and slammed the door.

---

If anything was left of the portal, she figured, she'd need to move quickly. It ordinarily would open only every 30 days, but it hadn't been anywhere near that. Not close. Not even in this world of "humans."

But now it might not matter. Regardless of whether anything was left of the portal, Twilight had returned sooner, and it was obvious now that it had been because of her powers.

But she knew she still had powers. Thirty days might be irrelevant now.

There was a full moon over the world of "humans." A lie to the "humans" she lived with – a lie about an evening event at school – had gotten her out of their house. Gotten her here. The campus.

And it was different. That concerned her.

The statue of the rearing stallion, the school mascot – it was gone. And its tall base, where the portal had been, was rubble. The face of the base – the actual portal – had been shattered in her battle with Twilight. It had been the other side of the mirror that had brought her here. The face was gone. And now the base itself was rubble.

That concerned her. She hoped that the portal still existed in some form, though. It wasn't of this material world. It was magical; it was stuff you couldn't grasp or explain. It was power separate from, and above, this world. Even above Equestria.

And from the very edge of campus, she couldn't feel it. She felt a shock. Because she saw she wasn't alone.

The school janitor was there.

He was raking up small rubble near the ruined base, herding it onto a shovel, then dropping it with clumsy clunks into a wheelbarrow. He was paced and slow. It was, from what she could sense, all very methodical and orderly. And yet, there was something about him — an aura – that wasn't. There was a subliminal confusing feel to him.

Why he was here at this hour, she couldn't imagine. She had a reason for being here, but she felt no need to ever explain herself to any "human," let alone a menial like him. He worked beyond class hours, yes – he had registered just that much to her. But not this late. Not that she knew. Not that she had ever cared to know.

And what happened to the statue? That was a puzzle, too. It had been there during that day, albeit on its damaged base. For it to be so suddenly gone, and the base demolished so quickly – it was strange. It made no sense.

It finally struck her from out of nowhere that her confusion was beginning to grow. She didn't like confusion. It threw her off. It made her lose control. And she liked control. She liked to control. She liked the power.

She liked power. A janitor wouldn't stop that.

She skirted the front campus in the full moon's silver-trimmed darkness. She moved, slinking from shadow to shadow, closer to the "human." The process disgusted her. She had known for an instant a power that could have ruled this reality. Now she slunk like a frightened animal avoiding a predator. It disgusted her.

Turn it around, she finally thought: You are the predator, about to devour your prey. You're still in control here. You have the power. You're not slinking. You're stalking.

It made her feel a little better.

Still no sense of the portal. She was now in the shadow of a column at the school's entrance, watching the "human" still raking, still shoveling, still methodical and measured and orderly. In the moonlight, she saw the profile of his face.

To the extent she had ever cared to notice – which essentially had been never – she knew he was, well, "old," as "humans" considered it. His face looked … "weathered." It was a word she had heard and learned, and it absolutely fit him. His overall face was drawn, with hollow cheeks and bulging eyes below his dark ballcap. His hair was dark, almost matching his cap. But now another confusion: The color of "human" eyebrows tended to match that of the "human's" hair. Yet on him, they weren't dark. They were bushy and white. The hair of "humans" grew lighter – even white – as they aged. She had seen that. But the brows and hair changed hue simultaneously, not independently.

It was confusing.

He also had a white goat-like beard that hung from his chin, and a tooth that protruded from one side of his mouth. The tooth disgusted her. Both features were unusual among "humans." But "humans" were all unusual, she thought. She had never tried to understand them deeply. She simply didn't care that much about them.

But for all his apparent age, she sensed, he exuded strength. There was even more confusion. The old "humans" she had encountered were tired, weak, resigned to decline. They were content to let the world move past them and to accept that their strength was over. But she didn't sense resignation in him. Or weakness. She felt great strength. No – beyond strength.

Strangely, she sensed power. Great power. Power of an elemental kind.

But it was playful. She didn't understand that. Well, more like capricious. Not a determined, focused aura. One where power could go anywhere, do anything at any moment for any reason. And there was a nagging feeling that it rarely needed a reason. Or wanted one.

And she felt confused again. As if her prey had suddenly taken a subtle stance that presented a challenge. She started moving again and realized that the closer she got, the more confusion she felt. The missing statue, the destroyed base, the "human's" presence – the lack of sensing the portal – none of it made any sense.

"I know you're there, Sunset Shimmer."

The "human" had stopped in mid-rake to call out. He was staring down at a small pile of broken stone that he had just gathered. He didn't move.

The loss of the element of surprise … surprised her. She had lost that much control. But, she knew, she had powers. She could regain the situation. After all, he knew her as only a young "human" female at this school. And she was well known, so of course he knew her name. But he didn't know her powers. Advantage me, she thought, and slipped from the shadow into the openness of the night.

"How'd you know it was me?" Her innocent sweetness was neither.

The janitor started raking again, slowly. "Just a feeling," he said. "You're hard to miss, though."

She walked over and stopped about two meters from him. No sense of the portal. Damn. "What are you doing?"

"I was asked to clean up. What about you?"

"Went out for a walk."

"At this hour?"

"Yeah …"

"Huh. "

"What are you doing here this late?"

He stopped and, with one hand, grabbed the shovel and started herding the pile onto the shovel with the rake. "Told you. I was asked to clean up."

"At night?"

"It didn't matter when."

"Oh."

"Quite the fireworks yesterday, Sunset. You all right? Lot to go through in one day."

Everyone had seen her transformation, even if they couldn't understand it. There was no secret about it. Of course he'd mention it. "I'm … all right." She thought quickly. "Have you felt anything … unusual … here since yesterday?"

"Where?"

She pointed at the still-considerable pile of rubble. "Here."

"Unusual how?"

Frustrating creature, she thought, annoyed. "Like some sort of … creepy feeling? A strange … sensation? Tingling? That's the best way I can put it."

The rake dropped to the ground, and the shovel rose. The rubble on it clunked onto the pile in the wheelbarrow. The shovel was dropped, and he took up the rake again. "Nope."

"Oh. OK. So … what happened to the statue?"

He started raking again. "Took it off so they can rebuild the base."

"When'd they do that? It was here today."

"After everyone left for the day. Wasn't hard to do."

You make it sound as if you could snap your fingers and make it disappear, she thought. You'd need magic for that. She smiled. I might still have magic.

The janitor was intent on his work. "Why are you here, Sunset Shimmer?"

His insistence threw her. It was from nowhere, and it caught her off guard. "I told you: I'm out for a walk."

He stopped raking and kept looking at the ground. He sighed, and when he did, she gasped and stepped back.

In his sigh, she felt the sudden, frightful release of power terrifying and far beyond what she had known for that one moment the night before. Power again of an elemental kind. Power unreadable, going everywhere in her mind at once. She was slapped in the face of her thoughts, immersed in a swirl – no, a cyclone – of confusion, as if it had become the reality of reality. It was past making sense of.

It was chaos. And it seemed strangely tired.

"The portal is gone, my dear," the janitor said flatly.

She swam against the swirl, but it still spun. "I don't know what you're …"

He faced her, leaning on the rake. "This is your world now, child. Learn to enjoy it."

She looked around quickly, seemingly seeking some explanation nearby. A mere "human" knowing about the portal was nonsense. Confusion was knocking on the doors of her mind, and she felt like swinging her fists against it. She took a deep breath instead.

"I still don't know what you're talking about …," she growled.

He rolled his bulging eyes, and the thick white brows above them rose and fell as he did. "My dear," he said and sounded very tired in doing so, "I don't have all day for this." He glanced at the full moon. "Or night. The portal to Equestria is gone. Let's not waste any more time. I'm done here, and I'd like to go home. You should go home, too. The one here. It's the only one you have now."

Her contempt rose. The arrogance of the creature, she thought. The impertinence, the impudence that this inferior creature would presume to tell her what to do. It was wrong. The world was going wrong. Anger was reddening her mind.

"Do you know," she scowled, "who I really AM?"

He looked deeply, frightfully unimpressed.

"Sunset Shimmer …," he sighed, as if reciting from memory a tiresome report. "Former student of Princess Celestia of Equestria. Thief of Princess Twilight Sparkle's crown. Escaped to this world through the magic mirror. Ambitious. Dangerous. A threat. And frankly, a damned nuisance."

He smiled and stroked his white goat-like beard. "Did I miss anything, dear child?"

How he knew, she didn't know. How he knew, she didn't care. Her eyes narrowed, and her right arm flew out to her side, her hand spread wide.

"I'll show you 'dangerous' …," she whispered in a snarl. "I'll show you power, worm …"

He yawned.

Her hand turned palm-up, and a large chunk of rubble rose quickly from the shattered statue base. She swung her arm with a vicious yell, and the chunk flew in a blur toward his head, toward his weathered face. She expected a loud wet smash of blood and bone and flesh and muscle and brain. In that instant, in fact, she rather looked forward to it.

He held up a hand casually. And sighed.

The chunk stopped.

The halt was so abrupt, it felt as if her very arm had been grabbed in midswing. He turned his hand around delicately, and her arm twisted with it. The pain that her "human" body was capable of started stabbing her wrist, her elbow, her shoulder. She had always hated this ugly upright form and its lack of power.

A final twist. The chunk fell to the ground next to the janitor. Pain ripped quickly from her shoulder into her brain, and when it smashed in the doors to her mind, she fell to earth. Onto the grass and into the dirt.

Confusion – ultimate and complete, and which had been waiting at the doors after knocking – nodded its thanks to the pain and strode confidently through the open portal. It looked around, liked what it saw and settled in. It let out its billions of questions, which filled her mind like a swarm of moths.

First thing, it thought, let's get rid of her sense of things. She's always had it wrong, anyway. It gauged the wreck of her mind and nodded.

Let's begin, it smiled.

She propped her pained body up by her arms and regarded him in the night. He wore a narrowed-eye, smiling expression that clearly asked, "Do we understand each other now, child ...?" Like a teacher would assess a disappointing student when reminding the younger who knew better, who was in control.

Who had the power.

Celestia had looked at her with disappointment. She knew the look. But Celestia's face had also carried deep sadness, and there was none of that in his. The alicorn princess had never looked at her with the warm, confident disdain that came from ultimate self-assured power.

Like the janitor looked at her now.

Who, she finally surrendered, was he? What was he?

The pointed tooth gleamed in his smile. "Oooo … you should see the look on your face," he said almost playfully – but not quite. "You look like your head is full of moths."

"Tell me who you are …," she whispered.

"My dear Sunset," he replied, "right now, I need to tell you that the powers you think you have are just residual from Twilight Sparkle's crown. They were never meant for anypony but her. They'll pass quickly. In fact, that little stunt now probably killed most of them. If not all."

She felt her arms shake, shiver, quiver slightly, and it finally struck her that she was exerting real effort to stay up, that she felt weaker than before. How could he know?

No "human" should have such power. Certainly not a menial like him. How could it top the magic of a unicorn, despite her wretched current form? And damn it, where was the portal? Destruction of the statue's base shouldn't have destroyed the magic of the portal. But the magic was gone. How?

Nothing made sense. Not anymore.

"I can see you're confused by all this, my dear," he said. "Things seem rather – oh, I don't know – chaotic, don't you think …?

"OH!" He suddenly held up a finger at the cry, and his eyes bulged out even more than they did already, raising the thick white brows with them. As the orbs protruded, the curved corneas caught the moon's silver glint. Which didn't make them shine.

They shone from within.

A sickly yellow started glowing brighter and, in doing so, actually seemed to make his face darken until only the eyes remained. That made no sense to her, but there on the ground, she could no longer hold onto sense. She wasn't strong enough anymore.

Red dots of pupils popped instantly into the yellow. Maybe the eyes of a demon, her mind trembled. She had been a demon the night before, and though she couldn't see her own eyes, she had felt through them what it was to look upon others with the contempt of unspeakable power. She didn't know what her eyes had looked like in that moment.

Maybe, she wondered, they had looked like his.

His finger was still pointed to the sky. Then the yellow-red eyes narrowed in delicious fun. "Here's a good word …" The smile grew. He pointed at her.

"Discordant …," he offered.

That … made sense, she thought. At long last in these brief moments, something made sense.

She slowly stood painfully. He quietly waited patiently. "Why are you here …?" she asked, facing the ground.

The yellow mellowed. "I told you: I was asked to clean up."

"Who asked you?"

"Celestia, of course. I'd do anything for her. Charming creature. Absolutely irresistible when she's asking for a favor she doesn't want to ask for."

She looked at him. "Am I what you're here to 'clean up' for her? So she doesn't get those perfect hooves of hers dirty?"

He shook his head and chuckled. "Why, no, dear child," he assured. "I'm not here to clean up after you. I was asked to clean up after Twilight Sparkle."

"I don't understand."

"Celestia sent me to make sure Twilight's crown got back to her. One way or another. Celestia certainly hoped Twilight would do it on her own – and she certainly did, as we both know – but I was the guarantee that the crown would be returned. If Twilight failed, I would most certainly succeed. I'm just glad Twilight saved me the effort."

He smiled again. "You, child, never had a chance."

From somewhere, she found the strength to sneer. "You'd bow down to Celestia that much?"

"Of course not. I'm making her pay through the snout for all this."

"How?"

"Oh, I set my own terms for this little adventure."

"Like what?"

He sighed again. She felt hot impatience slap her in the face roughly. "It's a long story, Sunset Shimmer, and I'm not really in the mood to go into it at this point. And I'm finished here, so let's wrap this up, shall we?"

"Tell me something," she said.

He crossed his arms. "What now?"

"How'd you know I'd come here?"

"Celestia knew the crown could leave residual power in you. That was part of my 'cleaning up': seeing how long it would last and preventing you from making any more mischief. Stopping mischief goes against my grain, but the payoff will be worth it. I've sensed your presence, watched you, and I don't feel any more magic or power. Not enough to do any more harm. And I've ensured that the portal is closed at this end and can't be reopened. So I'm done here, and that leaves me with only one thing to do."

She closed her eyes. "To kill me?"

He frowned so strongly, she felt it in her darkness, and her eyes flew open at the shock. As she looked upon him again – upon the face of chaos – she saw confusion of a degree beyond explanation.

"Now, why," he asked, shaking his head, "would I want to do that …?"

"Isn't that what Celestia wants?"

"Heavens, no. She has no desire to see you dead. Neither do I. I'm done here."

The relief of the reprieved tingled her. But he was still here, so confusion remained. "So what's the last thing you still have to do?" she asked.

"I have to go home."

"What?"

"I have to get back to Equestria."

She squinted at him. "You said the portal was gone."

"It is."

Frustration. "Don't play games with me."

Confidence. "I'm not."

Anger. "Then how are you planning to go back? If the portal is gone, you're stuck here like me! Or didn't you think of that?" She shook her head. "Celestia said you were smart. If this is how smart you are, I'd hate to see it when you're stupid ...

"Fool …," she sneered.

And spat.

He didn't react at first, but then started nodding slowly. "Sunset Shimmer …," he finally said quietly, "As you spend the rest of your life here – and I assure you, you will – always remember this one thing. Just one thing:

"Never, ever assume again …

"That my powers …

"Have anywhere near the same limitations …

"That yours had …"

He smiled a final time. "Always remember that."

He lifted a hand. His fingers snapped.

And he was gone.

No warping of space as a portal shimmered into being and he stepped through. No flash of brilliant light that took him with it as it instantly winked out. No fading away into the nothingness of the night.

Just gone.

The rake he had been leaning on stood upright for a moment more, then fell to the ground with a thin thud of its wooden handle and a soft rattling of its metal tines.

To her, it sounded like a door being slammed shut. And locked forever.

And then silence. No insects in the night, no wind, no creaking trees with their rustling leaves, no sound of "human" activity. It was a long silence, as if he had taken all sound with him.

She looked at the rubble and slowly held out her right arm again. It felt heavy, and it trembled slightly in her weakness. She pointed it at a small chunk of broken masonry.

Rise, she thought. She really didn't need to – she hadn't before – but now, she felt she had to do everything she could.

In the quiet, in the stony silence, the chunk ignored her. She felt nothing from it. It sat on the ground like the rock it was.

Rise, she thought again. It didn't.

Slowly, she brought her hand in and stared at it. It was now quite "human," she noticed. More than before, it felt rather ordinary. Nothing special. Weak, in fact.

Powerless.

---

"I'm very proud of you, Twilight," Celestia beamed in the throne room.

The younger alicorn blushed. "Thank you, Your Highness."

"I knew you had it in you to adapt to the other world. Thrive, apparently. Well done."

"It was … scary … sometimes …"

"Life is scary sometimes. It's how you respond to those moments that shows your true character. Yours is very strong."

Twilight Sparkle bowed her head. "Thank you again, Princess," she whispered.

"It's late," Celestia noted. "Why don't you get some sleep? I imagine this whole adventure has been quite tiring."

Twilight lifted her head. "Yes. Thank you." A deep curtsey. "Good night, Your Highness."

A nod and a smile. "Good night, Princess Twilight Sparkle. Sleep well. Have beautiful dreams."

The youngster rose, turned away and started toward the double doors. When she arrived, a pair of guards opened them. She passed through, turned sharply to the left and disappeared. The guards began to shut the doors.

"Leave us!" Celestia ordered sternly.

Her intensity surprised them. After a moment, they bowed to her, departed and shut the doors behind them.

She waited for the echo of the portals' closing boom to die in the vast chamber. Silence draped her for a while, then she sighed deeply and closed her eyes.

"I know you're there," she said softly.

A shadow in a far corner behind her chuckled. It opened two sickly yellow eyes that glowed brighter. Two red pupils popped into them.

"So it's true what they say," it said playfully. "Soulmates can feel each other even when they can't see each other."

She opened her eyes and turned her head to the shadow. "The fact that we were ever soulmates has always made me want to vomit at my own stupidity."

The shadow wrapped itself slowly around a shape. It drifted in the air until it was in front of her, then solidified. Discord stood before her, grinning. "You didn't always feel that way, my love."

"Don't call me that."

"But it's the truth. You will always be my love."

She huffed impatiently.

"By the way," he said, "I don't think I've ever heard you use the 'royal plural' before. First time?"

"It was a slip. When I said, 'us,' I was referring to you and me," she explained. "The guards just didn't know that."

"I see."

"How did it go?"

"Splendidly. The portal is closed in the other world, and Sunset Shimmer has no more power. Banished. Exiled. Abandoned. Condemned. Whatever you wish to call it, my dear. She's no longer a threat to Equestria."

"Good."

"Or to you, my sweet Celestia."

She narrowed her eyes in cool harshness.

"And isn't that," he continued, "what you wanted out of my little escapade in the first place …?" He smiled slowly, and the meaning grew with the curve of his lips.

Her disdain grew with the grin, but she corralled the feeling. "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about, Discord," she said in cool firmness.

"Then I misunderstood, my dear. Of course. OH!" he said, holding up a claw. "There's the matter of my compensation. I almost forgot."

"No, you didn't," she said.

"True. I'll take one day and night of free chaos, as we agreed, thank you."

"Granted. Starting when I raise the sun tomorrow morning."

"In Ponyville, if you please."

"No."

He raised a bushy white brow. "And why is that, my dear?

"Ponyville has suffered enough from you. I'll give you Manehattan. It's so chaotic, I doubt they'll even notice you're there."

"Oh, I'd rather have Ponyville. The ponies there are so much more fun to play with. The ones in Manehattan always ask me what my 'freakin' problem is' and tell me to 'get the freak' out of their way. They seem to like saying 'freak' a lot …"

"You'll take Manehattan and like it. I'm already giving you free rein for a day and night. That's more than I'm comfortable with in the first place."

He shrugged. "Then your generosity overwhelms me, Your Highness. Manehattan it is."

She regarded him suspiciously. "You're sure the portal is closed? Forever?"

"Absolutely. Are you still worried about Sunset Shimmer?"

"No."

"Then I have two observations for you before I leave, my sweet."

"I'm listening."

"First, the portal is essentially a tunnel. I've closed one end of it."

"And?"

"Well, if you want to make sure a tunnel is closed completely …" His eyes, his smile, turned eager, like those of a farmer planting a seed in richly fertile soil. "… you should close the other end, too …"

Celestia said nothing.

"Shame if the mirror were to break," he offered. "It could never be replaced. That would be rather sad, don't you think? Nopony could ever travel to the other world again. Or from it."

"What's the other observation?" she asked.

"You were proud of Sunset Shimmer, weren't you?"

"Yes."

"And she disappointed you."

She gazed slowly toward the floor. "Yes …"

"She wanted more power. Power like yours. Maybe more."

She looked back up. "What's your point?"

"Are you proud of Twilight Sparkle, my dear …?"

She was silent.

"Twilight succeeded where Sunset Shimmer failed. Meaning she's more powerful than Sunset. Power closer to yours. It would be a shame if she started … thinking like Sunset … wouldn't you say …?"

Celestia was cool. "Twilight has more discipline. She was a warmer heart. She doesn't want power for herself. She wants it to help others."

He smiled, and his pointed tooth protruded further from between his lips. "Wanting power for oneself. Interesting that you bring that up, sweet Celestia. Very interesting, indeed …"

She scowled. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I won't repeat that."

"Oh, don't mind me," he said casually. "I'm just being silly. But just a reminder: It would be a shame if the mirror broke. But I know you always take care of things. I'm absolutely certain of that."

She studied him in his grinning coyness. "Thank you for your help in this matter, Discord," she said politely through barely gritted teeth. "You may leave. Good night. I'm going to bed."

His eyes narrowed, and a grin grew into a smile, and a smile grew into a leer. "Any chance I could join you …?"

"GET OUT!"

He offered a deep bow. "As you wish, Your Highness." He straightened and winked at her. "Good night, my love." He raised a paw and snapped his claws.

And was gone.

Celestia snorted. The arrogance of him, she fumed. The impudence. The impertinence. The presumption. Disgusting. Revolting.

And to think he and I ever were …

She shook her head to clear her mind of the image. It wasn't something she cared to remember.

Discord …

Fool, she thought. And wanted to spit.

She decided against it. The floor had just been polished.

Besides, she needed to see the mirror.

---

"Twilight Sparkle."

The young alicorn shivered and stopped. Her name had flown coldly and sharply past her in one of the outside colonnades of the palace, vanishing ahead down the corridor striped silver and black by the full moon and the shadows.

She turned in the direction her name had come from. Nopony was there, only more of the stripes that got smaller and smaller until they ended in shadow.

She felt for a moment. Sensed. Perceived. And finally turned her head slowly back toward her original direction. And as she knew already, he was standing behind her.

"Discord," she acknowledged, turning to face him fully.

He bowed. "Good evening, Princess Twilight Sparkle. Lovely night, isn't it?"

She didn't like being with him in the half-darkness. "What do you want?"

He smiled. "Why, merely to congratulate you on your latest triumph. Taking down a trans-species demon. I'm very impressed. You've grown into your powers very well."

"How'd you know about that?"

"I saw it while you were in the other world."

"You were there?"

"Oh, yes."

"Where?"

"Close enough to see, naturally."

"Where?" she insisted.

He sighed. "That's really not important, my dear. What is important is that you know Princess Celestia sent me there to watch over you."

She snorted. "I didn't need your help."

"Oh, it wasn't my help you were getting. It was hers. I was just a hired hand. Or paw. Or talon. You get the idea."

"She … didn't think I could do it …?"

"Quite the contrary. She's well aware of how much your powers have grown. I just mentioned it to her, in fact. It made quite an impression on her, I must say."

Then – suddenly – he soared to his full horrifying, terrifying height – even higher as he stretched his arms up to full length – and let out a bellow that made realms and dimensions Twilight couldn't begin to imagine cower in fear. The sound seemed to shatter the air itself.

Twilight cringed, bracing herself for whatever unpredictable act chaos itself would bring.

For his part, Discord continued to yawn.

Then he returned to his normal appearance and rubbed his side with a paw. "Welllll," he said with the satisfaction of a good stretch and yawn, "I've had a long day. I'm going to get some sleep. But I'd like to leave you with an observation before I go."

She had recovered. Barely. "What's that?"

"How well do you think you know Princess Celestia?"

"Fairly well … I guess …"

"You're wrong."

"Why?"

"My dear, you might think you know her," he said correctively, "but there's one thing you don't know about her yet. You might learn it eventually. But you might also learn it when it's too late for you."

She felt a growing discomfort. In his tone, his ominousness, she sensed a dark cloud descending. Falling toward him. But more so – and she didn't understand this – it was coming toward her.

"What is it?" she asked.

He started to smile, and it frightened her because it seemed to be the smile of a vengeful judge about to pronounce a death sentence.

"What you don't know about Celestia yet," he replied, "is what she's capable of …"

She thought. "I don't understand …"

"And I am very sorry to hear that, dear child. Very sorry, indeed." He sighed. "Well, like I said, I'm tired and going to bed. Good night, Princess Twilight Sparkle."

He bowed, then straightened, and his sickly yellow eyes with their red pupils captivated by their sheer power her purple pointed ones. "Sleep well, my dear," he concluded.

And his bushy white brows rose with meaning.

"If you can …"

He raised a paw and snapped his claws. And was gone.

She stood in the silver and black for a while, wondering what he could possibly mean. And as she did, a sudden sound from far above shocked her, and she looked up. There was no visible source, but it seemed to have come from far above in the palace, from the general area where she had last seen Celestia.

It took her a long moment to finally realize that it had sounded much like glass being shattered.

She couldn't make any sense of it. Then it occurred to her that if there was nonsense about, there would be Discord. And there had been, and so he had been, and so there you were. She shrugged and headed off in her original direction, toward an end of the colonnade that posed darkness.

And what did he mean about Celestia, she asked herself. There was no sense to that, either. But that was Discord again. He never made sense, she concluded as she ventured into the gloom.

Fool, she thought.

And wanted to spit.