We spend the next few days together meeting up with Pinkie Pie at Sugarcube Corner; I wouldn't be so rude as to say that my other friends are giving us a wide berth, but that's exactly what they're doing. The six of us now only gather whenever Equestria needs saving, and that's only for about thirty minutes or so every week. Sadly, it's not really enough time to have a meaningful dialogue about what utter jerks they're being right now.

        No, that's cruel. Yes, I understand that, from their perspective, they're just looking out for me, but it's the patronising nature of that concern that makes me think of them so wickedly. Their treatment of me, as if I'm some feeble-minded filly too driven by hr hormones to make a well-thought out decision, incites a quite fury within that fills me with such contempt for myself. Nopony ever tells Rainbow Dash to stop flying, or Twilight Sparkle to stop spending weekends rearranging her bookshelves, even though both of those things have plenty of potential for self-destruction also. But when it's the big, dumb baby of the group, it's free rein to tell her what to do.

        I'm paraphrasing, of course. I can't tell them what I really think without coming across as a shrew in kind, unfortunately. They've never been fortunate enough to experience love; some of them have had infatuations, crushes, but they've never known that feeling of being connected, heart and soul, with another being. I wish I could share it with them, to make them understand, but I can't. I can only hope that they, too, find their own special someponies one day and maybe then they'll realise what they've been putting me through all this time with their doubts.

        It's early in the afternoon, so the place is largely empty, but there are a few ponies dotted around the various tables, talking and whispering; I try not to let it bother me, but hushed voices always arouse my suspicions. Maybe they're just talking about the upcoming Equestria Games and whether or not they're going to try out for one of the teams?

        Pinkie Pie bounds over to us with our order, somehow keeping everything perfectly balanced on her various limbs and atop her head, and I return my attention to the here and now: it's a large pecan pie, two hot chocolates, and a veritable mountain of whipped cream for both. Discord, of course, doesn't need to eat, but he seems to enjoy it, and he seems to enjoy having my company while he does so. If he wanted to, he could just snap his fingers and have anything he wanted, but I think he enjoys real, hoof-made food more than doing that.

        I think. He seems to. For somepony I've been dating for over a month, I know so little about him. I want to ask, but more than that, I want him to feel like he can tell me anything. Honestly, it disturbs me a little how close I've gotten to somepony who is so cagey. He has his reasons, I'm sure, not least of which is the fact that he spent a thousand years of living death trapped as a stone statue while the world passed him by. Maybe he'll open up more as time goes on, as the other ponies begin to accept him? Maybe it's to protect me? Maybe there are things that he just can't share without setting off my tender sensibilities? That said, the knowledge that we could spend the next sixty years or so until my dying day together without ever chipping the surface of what makes him tick does weigh on my mind a little.

        I wonder what he'll do, then? Without jealousy, I contemplate him moving on, finding somepony new. I hope so. I'd hate for him to be alone, to revert to his old ways. Princess Celestia will always be around to keep an eye on him, I suppose, keep him in line. The thought of him using anger and grief as an excuse to cause trouble, to become the Lord of Chaos again, makes my stomach feel jittery. I don't want him turned into a statue again.

        “Discord?” Pinkie Pie has a look on her face that I'm having trouble reading. “Would you mind if I asked you a question?”

        “Sure, Pinkie,” he says around a mouthful of pecans. I can't help but put my hoof to my mouth to stifle a giggle as he sprays crumbs and whipped cream all over the counter.

        “Manners, dear,” I say, handing him a napkin.

        “Does it bother you,” she asks, indicating the ponies in Sugarcube Corner, whom, I've just noticed, have backed off considerably from the counter and are giving us sideways glances whenever they think that we're not looking, “that they think you're still a monster?”

        “Not at all, Pinkie Pie,” he says with that roguish smile of his, making a dismissive gesture with his lion paw. “Ponies fear the unknown, and they betray their fears through their ignorant, idle gossiping. I, in turn, simply choose to ignore them.” He turns to look at me, eyes bright. “You don't think that I'm a monster, do you, Fluttershy?”

        “Yes, I do,” I say, and I have to hold a hoof up to his lips before he can interject. Even Pinkie Pie is looking at me in shock. “But not that kind of monster. You're a beautiful one, with a kind heart, and you just needed somepony to make you realise it. You shouldn't be ashamed of who are you, Discord.”

        “Never,” he replies, kissing my cheek and leaving a trail of crumbs down one side of my face.

        “You guys are so sweet together,” says Pinkie Pie excitedly. “If only I could bottle you two and use you as ingredients in my next batch of cupcakes!”

        Discord and I share a look, then burst into peals of laughter; Pinkie Pie is not slow to join in, and we soon forget about the other ponies staring at us entirely. If my other friends could only see us together things would be perfect, but I quickly dismiss them from my thoughts. They'll come around eventually.