Somewhere, someplace, there is a clock.

All right, so it’s more than a clock. It started out as one, certainly. A gift, in fact, given as a token of friendship in honor of an event so relatively unimportant that few remember it, and even they aren’t sure of the exact time it occurred. After all, time is a fickle thing, calendars change, and quite frankly trying to track some immutable ticks of the universe just isn’t worth the trouble, especially when they are as inconsistent and inscrutable as this one.

Nevertheless, it was a gift given honestly, and from the heart. And it was accepted just as gracefully … though perhaps with a small joke or two, mostly as an attempt to ease the tension of the true weight behind such an offering.

After all, clocks tick on with every stroke of their gears, ratcheting away the endless march of time. For some, a reminder of events to take place not too many ticks into the future. For others, of events that will take place many ticks past that, or perhaps the past itself. Inevitable moments. Moments that could be changed … if not for the breaking of things that are.

It’s all pointless in any case, because the clock doesn’t do that now. It still ticks, certainly, but not in the way it was intended. Its owner has … modified it slightly. The hands still turn, though not always in the same way. Sometimes they run backwards. Or sideways. Sometimes they don’t appear to move at all, though a closely trained eye could see that that eventuality is only true to those beings who deal with the paltry three dimensions most of the world is stuck in. As it happens, the clock’s owner is sort of both on-and-off the level on that account, so the feature stays.

The ticks are never in time, either. Some echo for an impossibly long duration. Others are over far too quick. Sometimes they even stop halfway and seem to retract.

And yet, for all these oddities, the clock still works. Somehow. Whether or not it should isn’t up for question. It quite clearly shouldn’t.

But then again, many things where the individual known as Discord was concerned didn’t quite make sense.

The clock’s hands moved forward, then backward, then forward again. For a moment the faint ticking that was echoing through the mishmash of color and light that was Discord’s “home” seemed to hang, everything coming to a halt. The clock itself seemed to tremble in anticipation, vibrating with excitement. The hands shook.

Then, with a half a “tick”—more of a ti, really—both hands sprang forward, snapping towards the highest point of the clock. The numbers that had been there had long since been erased, though the owner hadn’t changed a thing about the butterfly background that had been behind them. But the numbers themselves were gone. In their place was a single, twisting phrase—the only one on the clock. A patient observer would note that the phrase seemed to twist its shape, altering its message based on … well, who really knew? In any case, the current message was quite clear. It said, quite brazenly, in large, blocky text: “WAKE UP!”

The latter half of the ti bounced through the room, an echoing ck that rose in pitch and volume as the hands struck home. On top of the clock, a tiny bronze hammer suspended between two tiny, delicate bells began to quiver with what almost looked like excitement. Then it swelled, magnifying in size until it was more of a mallet, and turned towards a large, dimpled, steel gong hanging upside-down on the wall next to the clock. It pulled back, gave its head a little flick, and—

“Not this morning, thank you,” Discord said, one mismatched paw catching the mallet head just as it swung. “As luck would have it, I was already awake.”

The mallet shrank back to size, folding slightly as if in disappointment. For a moment Discord almost imagined he could hear a small sigh resonate in the clock’s tick.

“Relax,” he said, idly flicking the gong with a talon and grinning as a faint squawk emanated from the metal. There was always another day some other time. Or week. Or whatever. The gong let out another indignant squawk as he flicked it again, and he smiled to himself.

One day either Cake-flank or Moon-butt is going to ask me whatever became of this thing, he thought as he looked at the burnished metal. His own mismatched face stared back at him, and when he didn’t do anything blew him a raspberry. I’m sure they must be wondering. As likely did most historians in the Griffon Empire.

Maybe they’d ask, maybe they wouldn’t. Besides, it wasn’t as though it were that important. It had only been used by Reus and Kyr in their court. Other than that, there was nothing special about it at all.

You know, aside from being owned by Kyr, he thought as he turned away from the gong, heading upwards toward one of the room’s two ceilings. It’s not like anyone ever placed any value like that on anything you’ve owned, except maybe as a—

The train of thought came to a screeching halt as the emergency brakes fired, smoke and sparks shooting out of his ears. He paused for a moment before speaking out loud. “That’s enough of that,” he said.

Why? The little conductor of the train was waving his own mismatched paws wildly, furious at having been interrupted.

“You know why,” Discord said, sticking one finger in his ear and shoving the train back down the track the way it had came. “You—” He paused. Where was I? Oh, right, Reus and Kyr, those old buzzards. He grinned. They always were easy to tweak.

He shook his head, a faint rattling coming from within as all his marbles realigned in their proper places. “But ...” he said, drawing the word out as a grin stretched across his face. “Enough of that old, musty history! Today is an important day!”

He paused in front of the mirror and gave himself a good stretch, watching as his sinuous reflection managed to mimic the motion. Mostly. It threw in a good luxurious mane flip and gave him a flirty wink as it saw him looking.

“Oh stop, you,” Discord said, waving a paw. “For the last time, you’re a reflection. And I’m out of your league anyway.” The reflection turned its nose up and then walked out of the frame, leaving the next Discord image in line behind it free to step up.

“Now, that’s more like it!” he said as the reflection matched his moments. Normally the first would have been just as cooperative, but today was a special day, and he was feeling a little rambunctious. He checked himself in the mirror, snapping his claws and sending his doppleganger scrambling to keep up with a whole host of outfits before finally deciding that “au natural” was the way to go.

“No, no,” he said as another mirror image suggested a different ensemble. The second image shoved the third out of the frame, a soundless argument forming. “Relax. I go as myself.” He grinned again and then snapped his fingers, the mirror shifting into a plain, wooden door.

“After all, today is the last day.” He grabbed the door handle, took a deep breath, and tugged it open.

A hallway stared back at him, along with a surprised pair of eyes belonging to one of Canterlot Castle’s waiting staff, who let out a startled shriek as Discord stepped through the door.

“So sorry,” he said as the mare backed up, her wings twitching. “You might want to try a different supply closet. I needed this one.” The mare stood there for a moment, silent, and then pointed.

“Umm … That’s not a supply closet,” she said, giving him a pained look.

“It’s not?” He flipped the door around in his paws, staring down at the small, brass plaque sitting in the center. “Oh,” he said as his brain put the pieces together. “It’s not.” He eyed the small mare. “And you were going to …”

“Yes?” the mare said hesitantly, almost as if she was no longer certain that was the right answer. There was a bit of a flush to her cheeks now, faint pink mixing with the vivid yellow of her coat.

“I see,” Discord said as he flipped the door back around and affixed it to its place on the wall. “Well then by all means don’t let me stop you.” He stepped to one side, gesturing with one sweeping claw towards the now restored restroom door.

“Thank you,” the mare muttered, darting forward with clear urgency and throwing the door open. Then she let out a short, pitched shriek as she tumbled out of sight.

Oh, right … Discord thought, staring at the open doorway the maid had just vacated. I probably should have closed that too. But never let it be said I’m not helpful ...

“It’s on your left!” he called after the mare, who seemed to have remembered that she had wings. “Just clean up when you’re done! Oh! And mind the soap tray, it may have acquired a taste for flesh.” He shut the door behind her. Best to give her some privacy. She’d most likely find the bathroom without any difficulties, and be out again in a jiffy. And if not, well …

I’m sure she’ll be fine, he thought as he took a quick look at the hallway around him, orienting himself. It was one of the less-ornate hallways, not that the observation said much where Canterlot Castle was concerned. The place was a veritable palace of luxury, though he had no doubt its residents were prepared to tear it all out and send it elsewhere the moment they felt there was any good to be gained from it. He glanced up at a tapestry depicting some ancient duel or victory or whatever and, for a moment considered tweaking it just slightly. Not too much, just enough to give him a faint trickle of power for the next few hours or so. A change in color, maybe. Or shifting a few threads around so that the expression one of the ponies was wearing looked like a frown. He lifted his claws, made ready to snap them against one another, and then …

Wait. He paused. It wouldn’t do to start the day with that. Not after such a long string of good behavior.

No, today was special. Better to get on his way and get it over with. To collect his order.

His last order.

He turned and went on his way, smiling as behind him, the door to his home let out another short shout of surprise.

“And that would be the flowers Fluttershy gave me saying ‘Hello,’” he said as he continued down the hall. “Hopefully she doesn’t get too terrified before she remembers that she can eat them.”

He paused for a moment at the next intersection, then turned left. The dispatch room where he’d be given his final packet was a ways away, but he could walk.

After all, he had time.

He couldn’t resist putting a bit of a spring in his step as he made his way through the castle, a jaunty tune springing from his lips and performing flips in the air as he wandered. Today is it! he thought. The last day! He snapped his talons, summoning a small, reed cane and matching boater hat as the whistled tune, now carrying on quite independent of his mouth, began to build.

Oh yes, it’s been a long time coming, he thought as he spun the cane in his claws, matching the timing of the rising song. Freedom at last! Ahead of him, he heard a voice harmonize with the carrying tune. He rounded a corner to see another member of the castle’s staff, humming along with the song as they cleaned. Then their eyes met his, and the humming stopped.

Typical. He ignored the snub and moved on, adding his own hum to the mix to make up for the pony’s lost addition. Won’t let it get to me, though. In minutes he’d be at one of the castle’s dispatch offices, where a slip of paper would be waiting for him. A slip with the final bit of his penance on it. After over a month of constant work under Celestia and Luna’s constant supervision, his debt to society would be repaid, his crime in siding with Tirek forgiven, and his record clean.

And not a moment too soon, Discord thought as the dispatch office came into view. It wasn’t much of an office, more of a small station where ponies and other workers around the castle could correlate on their duties for the day and find their assignments, but everypony called it an office all the same. I’d hate to think what Celestia or Luna would have me doing if my sentence had been extended.

Of course, it hadn’t. He’d been on his best behavior … which he almost had to admit was somewhat unusual. Not that he would admit it.

A few ponies standing around the dispatch office spotted him, their conversation growing somewhat subdued as he approached. Discord gave them a grin.

“Morning,” he said, giving them a wave of his cane. “Isn’t it a lovely day?”

“It was,” one of the staff said in a dull voice.

“Quite right, quite right,” Discord said, ignoring the sudden silence as his tune cut itself out. He glanced at the air, lifting one brow, and after a moment’s wait the tune started up once more. I’m not going to let one pony ruin my mood. “I suppose that some of the good times must stop when one gets their assignment, no matter how good a day it’s been so far.”

“That’s—” the pony began before snapping his jaw shut and turning to the other two. “Anyway,” he said, “I’ll see you later. I’d better get to work.” The other two ponies muttered their assent and turned away as well, trotting away from the office and off towards whatever work they had been momentarily shirking. Discord watched them go, halfway tempted to reach out and work a bit of chaos on them as they walked away. Maybe make the one’s hooves abnormally loud to everyone’s ears but his own. Or maybe animate the server’s cravat so it made faces at everyone that passed. He lifted his paw, feeling reality itself swirl at his whim, and … stopped.

You’re getting soft, he thought as he turned back to the office. A year ago you would have had that pony’s clothing dancing around without him. Or maybe made him cry maple syrup.

One more reason to be done as quickly as possible. Fluttershy was a bad enough influence on him. If he kept hanging around working for Cake-flank and Moon-butt, who knew what would become of him?

They’d have me dancing around singing songs about sunsets or some such nonsense, he thought as he ran a talon down the list of names next to the office. It let out a desperate gasp as it came to a stop next to his name, resting its paws on its knees as it caught its breath, and Discord gave the digit a mock frown.

“We definitely need to get out of here,” he said to his talon as he collected the slip of paper with his name on it. “You’re getting out of shape!”

Yes, he thought as he eyed the paper. Once I’m done and free I definitely need to get some exercise. Go out and stretch some limbs! Work a little chaos! Somewhere where it wouldn’t get him in trouble. He’d heard there was a lot of fun that could be had up north, past the border. Maybe a vacation was in order.

Yes, a vacation, he thought as his eyes found the line with his final set of instructions. That’ll give me something to do once I—

His thoughts came to a screeching halt, rubber squealing in his ears as they slammed into one another. His cane slipped from his paws, bouncing on the ground like a spring, the jaunty show tune that had been following him coming to a crashing, coughing halt.

He read the line again. And again. Surely this must be wrong! he thought, lifting a monocle to one eye and taking a closer look. But the line remained the same. And reminded him not to call it Shirley.

Time for drastic measures, he thought, carefully hanging the slip of paper in the air. With a faint pop he tugged his eyes from his sockets and gave them both a good polish. Then he reseated them, blinked, and read the line once more.

There was no mistaking it. The line hadn’t changed. He hadn’t misread it. And he hadn’t confused the signature and seal duo on the bottom half of the paper, either.

He turned, snatching the slip out of the air and leaving his cane bouncing merrily back down the hallway behind him. He needed answers, he needed them now, and only one pony had them.

“Lu-na!” The doors to the royal library flew open at Discord’s touch, a stack of books on the librarian’s desk taking to startled flight. “Where are you!?” He spared a quick glance at the librarian, but she was too busy taking wing to catch the scattering books to pay him any attention. Well, he admitted as she shot him a glare. Mostly. He snapped his claws, reality righting itself around each of the volumes and sending them zooming back to their places on the desk. Well, almost to their places. A number of their orders had been carefully reversed, a harmless trick that would at least grant him a measure of power in the next few minutes.

“Discord.” His ears twitched and then took flame as the voice drifted through the library, and he turned towards the upper balconies. A royal blue alicorn mare was looking down at him from one of the uppermost levels, one eyebrow lifted in curiousity. “To what do we owe this visit?” Princess Luna asked, her voice almost infuriatingly calm.

“You know quite well, princess,” Discord said, waving one claw at her. “I—” He paused, noting the number of nearby eyes from other library patrons which were now winding his way. “Right … Library.” He snapped his claws and teleported, appearing next to the lunar diarch with a bright flash.

“This!” he said, holding out his orders as Luna turned towards him, a questioning look still on her face. “And do you know how hard it was to find you? You weren’t in your office, the royal chambers, the conference rooms, or your personal chambers. Which, by the way, could use a good cleaning.”

“I do have hobbies and free time of my own, Discord,” Luna said, her horn lighting with a blue glow as she took the paper from his grasp. “What little of it there is.”

“So I see,” he replied, glancing at a stack of books sitting atop a nearby table. He ran his eyes over the titles: A mix of both contemporary history and recent events in the world of art, judging from the titles, along with a surprising number of what looked suspiciously like adventure fare, including what appeared to be the twelfth book in the Daring Do series. Interesting, he thought, giving reality a slight twist and fighting to keep a grin from his face as one of the more dry-looking history books swapped places with what he hoped was a rather spicy romance from another section of the library. “Well then I won’t keep you. You can get back to your bedtime reading or whatever as soon as you explain.”

Luna eyed the slip of paper for a moment, her face impassive. Then her eyes flicked toward his. “Everything appears to be in order …” She glanced at the paper once more and then floated it back towards him. “Is there some confusion about your instructions?”

“Some confusion—!?” Discord strangled out as he snatched the paper back out of the air. “Princess, this demand is completely unreasonable, and you know it!”

“I know no such thing,” Luna replied, turning toward her stack of books once more, apparently—to his delight—not noticing his surreptitious change.

“Luna, of all ponies I would expect to dance around the issue,” he said, stepping in front of her as she moved to walk away. “You are not on that list.”

“How dare you!” Luna said, her wings spreading slightly. “I would have you know I am quite an accomplished dancer, though my styles may be somewhat out of date.” From behind her, through the stacks, he caught sight of crystalline armor gleaming under the magilight as her Guard took issue with his sudden movement.

“Luna ...” he said, his voice as flat as his expression. He stepped back and snatched his words out of the air, folding and refolding them in his paws. “Of the two parties standing here right now, we both know I’m the one who traditionally resorts to wordplay.” He held up one paw, where the lunar diarch’s name had been folded into a somewhat accurate facsimile of her. “So when I come to you asking about this—” He held up his orders. “—I expect a clear answer. If I wanted frivolity, I’d go find Pinkie Pie.”

Luna let out a faint sigh, though from what he wasn’t sure. “Very well,” she said, her horn lighting once more and plucking the slip of paper from his paw. “You are to do as the orders indicate: report to this location and render assistance as needed until such time that my sister or myself gives you leave to stop doing such.”

“Luna …” he said, his voice almost a growl. “That ‘location,’ as you put it, is an orphanage.”

“I am aware of this.”

“Oh? And you don’t think that might be a bad idea?” His tail lashed behind him, a faint tinkling like the sound of breaking sand echoing through the air with each twitch. “Me? Working with children?”

“No, Discord, I do not,” Luna said, her words so matter-of-fact their impact hit him across the face like a physical blow, staggering him to one side. “In fact, I suggested it.”

“But … but …” He took a quick look around the library, extending his neck around nearby shelves, checking to see if there was a camera nearby. Maybe it was all a prank. Celestia did do those, occasionally. Then he turned back toward Luna, reeling his figure back in as he let out the only thing on his mind. “Why!?”

“Because I believe that it will be good for you,” Luna said, her clipped, matter-of-fact tones putting his nerves on edge. “And for Full Futures as well.”

“I’m a demigod of chaos, Luna,” he said, his voice so dry dust came with it. “I hardly think that—”

“Then do not.” Luna’s curt reply caught him by surprise, his jaw retracting with a rolling flutter. “Either accept your assignment or do not.” She lifted one eyebrow, her mane floating behind her in the ethereal breeze.

“An orphanage,” he deadpanned as he got his lips under control. “With children.”

“Indeed,” Luna said, her horn glowing as she lifted her selection of books. “Accept the assignment or reject it, Discord. But if you choose—”

“I know,” he said, cutting her off with a wave of his paw. “Back to topiary observation.”

“Or we could find other assignments for you,” Luna said. “Of course, they would likely be more numerous and time-consuming, but—”

“Oh, all right!” he said, groaning. “This will all end in tears, Luna, surely. But I’ll go. And when they slam the door in my face—”

“You will knock, and try again,” Luna said, her voice so calm it made him want to grit his teeth together. “You will be, after all, there with my approval.”

“I—Wait, what?”

“They know you are coming,” Luna said. “Full Futures’ manager petitioned my court last week for assistance in finding somepony capable of helping them—”

“That’s somepony, Luna,” he said, giving the word an emphasis. “I hardly think I’m qualified—”

“And I told them I would send someone to help in a day or so,” Luna continued with a smile, mirroring the attention he’d put on his own words. “Volunteers are not always in good supply, and as much as I would like to, my own leisure time is not frequent enough that I can offer my own assistance.”

“Yes, but you’re a princess,” Discord said, his shoulders slumping. “All you need to do is ask someone to do it, and they’d jump right to it. That’s how you ponies work, isn’t it?”

“I have asked,” Luna said, her subtle smile growing a little wider. “But you haven’t started jumping yet.”

“I—” It wasn’t often that he’d been outplayed more than once in a conversation. “Fine,” he said, straightening and running a hand down his front, smoothing his fur. “I can see when I’ve been beaten. But I’m still going on record that—” he said, summoning a large stone tablet with one hand and breaking off one of his horns to use as a chisel. Flecks of rock flew as he carved each of his next words into the stone surface. “This. Is. A very bad. Idea.” He presented the tablet to Luna, and she took it from him with what looked like a faint shred of amusement. Which, he had to admit, was an improvement. Their relationship over the millennia, if it could be called that, had forever been rocky. As it had with most of the other immortals, really. A smile at an act of reality warping—even a small one—was far and away preferable to what he would have gotten mere decades ago. Assuming, of course, that he hadn’t already been stone himself.

“Good,” Luna said, setting the tablet atop her pile of books. “I shall be sure to keep them for later. I assume you will be going now? I did send the manager a notice that you would be coming.”

“Yes,” he said, physically pulling the response from his throat with one hand. “And do keep that tablet handy,” he said as he turned away. “It’ll make for a convincing visual aid when I come back here after your orphanage throws me out.”

“Oh, I will,” Luna said as he retreated. “If only so I can watch you eat your words.” He scowled, though she couldn’t see it.

“Maybe you should,” he called back as he reached the stairs down to the rest of the library. “After all, that tablet does taste like chocolate!” Despite still being stone.

“Already planning ahead, I see,” Luna called after him. “Oh, and by the way, Discord. My personal chambers are amiss because a member of the cleaning staff has gone missing. You would not have happened to have seen her, would you?”

He paused for a moment, one hoof frozen just above a step. “You know,” he said. “I did see her. She was looking for a bathroom. I’m certain she’ll be along before long!”

And with that, before Luna could say anything further, he snapped his claws and teleported out of the library.

From the outside, Full Futures Orphanage didn’t look half bad. At least, insofar as pony sensibilities went. Discord stared up at the structure, eyeing the spiraling turrets and towers. From the look of it, it had once been a rather extravagant noble’s home, extravagant enough that the owner had gone a bit overboard in adapting the same sort of sweeping, tower-fill sensibility that Canterlot Castle was known for. He could see no less than five of the things sticking up from various points around the house—one near each corner, and a fifth one that had been tacked on in the back overlooking all the rest. Strangely enough, there wasn’t one in the center. That part of the house had been dominated by a flat-roofed porch that reminded him of ancient pegasus structures. There seemed to be a variance in the outer shell of the place as well, the walls closest to him displaying a different style and shape than the ones further back. Additions, maybe? he wondered.

All in all, the design seemed almost … Chaotic. He paused for a moment, one hand stroking his chin. Interesting, he thought. Maybe there’s more to assigning me here than simple torture.

Oddly enough, he couldn’t hear any children, and he took a moment to expand his ears, stretching them toward the front of the building. Something very faint made itself known, and he twisted his ears, honing in on it. A fuzzy, faint voice filled his head.

“—esting? Testing? Wave, are you picking me—?”

Discord pulled his ears back, the voice fading. Radio, he thought as he straightened. About time they started experimenting with that. On an idle whim he glanced up, shifting his eyes into another spectrum and spotting the twisting, refracting waves of electromagnetic energy. Grinning, he flicked one of his claws, pushing against the waves and bending them. He didn’t know who Wave was, but they were about to get an unexpected declaration of unrequited love.

Should make whatever lab they work at a bit more … interesting … he thought as he brought his vision back into the everyday … or close enough to it. Now, about this orphanage.

The front gate opened easily under his touch, without any sort of fanfare or creepy squeak, and for a moment he consider pausing and adding a faint “Abandon hope all ye who enter here” to its silence, but then he shook his head and continued on. After all, I can do it after they throw me out, he thought as he walked up the path towards the front door.

The lawn and front door had the same appearance of general care as the gate had, the paint fresh, clean, and bright, the lawn well cared for—though showing the appearance of both regular play and a few nibbles here and there. The hedges along the side of the front showed even more wear and tear; though it was clear they were being tended to by somepony who knew what they were doing. He could also see several gaps in the foliage where branches had been pressed aside so often they had grown to form gaps. No doubt there were a number of “tunnels” through both bushes that led to small hideaways.

Interesting, Discord thought as he reached the front door. It was large and ornate—almost large enough that he wouldn’t be forced to duck if he walked through it, but not quite. I wonder if there are any similar features to the inside of this place? Wide or tall hallways would be nice, but passages akin to the ones shoved through the shrubbery would be even better.

He reached for the large bell hanging by the door, but then paused. If you’re going to make an impression …

He snapped his claws, summoning the reed cane and matching boater hat from wherever he’d left them earlier. A second snap dressed him in a matching red-and-white pinstripe suit with a bow tie that not only spun on command, but would occasionally tell jokes. Not that he ever let it. It only told poor ones.

That’s better, he thought, stretching his neck out to get a good look at himself. Very respectable. Almost jolly, in a way. Too much, maybe? Then he shook his head. No, it’s perfect for a first impression. All I’m missing are … Somewhere in his head, a tumbler rolled, ball after ball dropping out into a waiting talon, a voice reading out numbers.

“Sixteen, seventy-twelve, nine, seven—”

Bingo! Discord thought, snapping his claws a final time and summoning a bouquet of flowers from … somewhere. He wasn’t actually sure. But he was quite sure that the ones that let out little spits of fire when they moved was a little much. He plucked them out and tossed them over his shoulder, where they broke apart in harmless showers of ash.

“Right!” he said, straightening his tie and reaching for the bell. “Time to make an entrance!”

He gave the bell a short, sharp tug, eliciting the long, steady ring of a bell backed by—what else?—a chorus of harmonicas, flipped his cane twice, and then, striking a pose, waited.

And waited.

And waited.

A minute passed. “Hmm …”

He reached out and tugged the bell again, this time adding a chorus of wild songbirds that would have made Fluttershy leap with excitement to the sound rather than harmonicas.

And then he waited.

He was about to reach for the bell a third time when he heard the hoofsteps. They were faint and muffled, but strong and sturdy all the same.

Finally. We can get this ridiculous assignment out of the way, he thought as the hoofsteps came to a stop behind the door. He dropped both paws to his cane once more and put on his best smile, the one that only scared the faint-of-heart.

The door opened, and a lime green earth pony looked up at him, her blue eyes going wide.

“Morning, ma’am,” Discord said, moving to tip his hat. “I am—” Whatever he was about to say was cut off by a shriek so loud it blasted the hat from his head and sent his bow-tie spinning backwards. Then the front door slammed shut, closing with such force that the steps beneath him shook, and he was once again staring at the painted surface.

“Well,” he said to no one in particular. “That went about as well as expected.”

Author's Notes:

Well, took me long enough. I first started writing this story last November. Yes. As in 2016, during my thanksgiving. This was one of those "I'm juggling too many projects moments."

In any case, we're here at last. I hope you're enjoying the ride so far. Hopefully Fimfic's late changes haven't messed up any formatting or tags anywhere.

If you're enjoying this so far and feel so inclined, please check out my other works, either here on fimfic or at my website. There are a lot of them!