For a moment the front of the orphanage was deathly quiet. The echoing shriek had faded, along with the heavy slam of the door, and a quick look around showed that if anyone else from the nearby buildings had heard either of the noises, they hadn’t been worried enough about them to check.

Which was probably for the best, Discord decided. After all, the last thing I want is someone calling the Guard to report a Discordian rampage. It seemed like half the times he went out, that happened. And over the silliest things, too, like ponies complaining about his making the fountain sculptures dance. And they’d have been just fine with it if one of their magic-users had done it.

At least the Guard had been understanding that time, since they’d guessed what was going on long before they’d shown up. As far as his antics went, animating a bunch of statues was fairly harmless. And the song hadn’t been too saucy. Maybe the parts about Blueblood’s love life, but then he was pretty sure some of the Guard had cracked a few grins at that one.

Still, I’d rather not have them called out to an orphanage simply because I knocked on a door, he thought. Time to try a different tactic. He reached out and rang the bell again, this time giving it a nice, ascending tone.

He had to wait a moment before the door cracked open once more, one eye peering out through the gap. “Ye-yes?” a shaky voice asked.

“As I was saying,” he said, tossing his hat and cane aside with a flourish. The suit followed a moment later, tearing free with a ripping noise as he flexed his titanic muscles and cast it aside. “I am—”

Wham! The door slammed shut a second time. Discord let out a sigh, his momentary mighty physique deflating with the sound of air slipping out of a balloon.

“Well,” he said, his voice suddenly much higher pitched. “So much for that!” He turned from the door and started walking down the path towards the gate. “At least I … tried.” His hoof came to a stop in the air as he froze.

Or did you? The question bounced through his innermost thoughts, careening off of shelves of bric-a-brac and upsetting some of his favorite memories of Twilight Sparkle. One of them pitched off the shelf, and he caught it just before it hit the ground, a faint image of Twilight Sparkle glaring at him with her wings frozen in the “flared” position bringing a smile to his face.

Still … The memory back in its proper place, he turned to look at the front door of the orphanage once more. Did I really try?

He could see it now. A small, puppet-Discord arriving back at a paper-mache Canterlot Castle, and coming face to face with a sock-puppet Celestia, her mane a lot limper when it was made out of dyed cloth. The Celestia puppet pulled her her face away from the large cake in front of her and made a bunch of unintelligible squeaks that his own likeness took as a chastisement, shrinking back. A quick, rapid back-and-forth exchange of chittering noises followed, with his own doppelganger shrinking lower and lower as Celestia-puppet’s bobbing grew more energetic.

“Oh, fine!” he said, waving his hands and scattering the puppet show. “Even my own subconscious is against me!” There was a giggle in the back of his mind, and he scowled.

“And now it’s mocking me,” he said to no one in particular. The giggle came again, and he paused. Actually, that doesn’t sound like me, he thought. It’s far too high-pitched and— “Aha!” He spun, one talon pointing at one of the upper windows of the orphanage, where he found … nothing. Save a bit of smudged glass. His eyes narrowed, then telescoped out of his head. Smudges that looked suspiciously like muzzle-prints. Or a muzzle-print anyway.

Still … he couldn’t see anypony.

“Bah!” A quick tug of a horn pulled both his eyes back in, and he marched towards the front door. Better to do as Sock-Puppet Celestia had suggested: Squeak, squawk, chitter, squeak. Which probably meant something along the lines of what he was about to do. He wasn’t perfectly fluent in puppet.

He marched up the steps with crisp, almost unnatural precision, then reached down and wrapped his paws under the underside of the door. A quick tug, and it rolled upwards, sliding back along the ceiling of the entryway behind it. The terrified mare, still standing on the other side of the door, let out another shriek as he strode in, and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Excuse me,” he said speaking over the mare’s shrill scream. “This is the orphanage that requested volunteer aid in the night court?”

The scream came to a strangled halt. “Um … yes?” the mare said. “Did they send somepony?”

“Ah,” Discord said with a smile, extending a talon and giving the mare a quick boop on the nose. To her credit she didn’t run away screaming. “I made that exact mistake.”

“Mistake?” The mare seemed half in shock.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Discord said, holding his talons up like a griffon professor. “But I believe Princess Luna said her exact words were ‘someone,’ not ‘somepony.’”

“Oh.” The mare’s voice was so quiet it could have made Fluttershy strain to listen for it. “So … did she send … someone … then?”

“She did!” Discord said, giving the mare a grin. “And his name is …” He stepped to the side and swept one paw back at the now open door. Then he jumped through the opening, trumpets ringing out an annoying little ditty behind him. “Discord!”

The mare promptly fainted, slumping over on the floor in a loose pile of limbs, leaving him standing there with his fanfare dying in a cacophony of off-key notes behind him. Then he frowned, dismissed the tiny squirrels that had been playing the tune, and rolled the door back into place with an idle flick of his claws.

“Well,” he said to the now still entryway. “The screaming I expected.” Around him the room seemed suddenly quiet, almost ominous now that the mare had collapsed. “The fainting, though …”

He bent down to examine the mare, a stethoscope appearing in his waiting paws. “Still breathing,” he said as he snapped his surgical mask into place. “And …” He blew on the end of the stethoscope, wiped it against his surgical gown, and then placed it between the mare’s eyes. “Brain is still showing signs of activity …”

“Hmm …” He listened for a bit longer before pulled the tool away. “Subject is a female earth pony of lime-green coloration,” he said, dictating to the nurse in the corner. “Blue eyes, if memory serves, and a dark, periwinkle mane. Approximately … thirty-nine years of age.”

“Approximately?” the nurse—also Discord, but with an exaggerated figure that would have made a minotaur matriarch jealous—asked.

“Well I have to guess,” Discord said, shooting the nurse a glare. “It’d be rude to ask, after all.”

“Well then,” the nurse replied, giving him a smug look under his false eyelashes. “How are you going to get her name?” He tapped the top of the paper, spinning the typewriter around so Discord could see the blank space.

“I’ll—” Discord began to reply, only to cut himself off when another, much younger voice echoed down the hall.

“Ms. Rose?” Discord barely had time to dismiss his assistant and throw his medical garb over his shoulder before the owner of the voice appeared around a corner, a small, pine-green earth-pony colt with hooves that were much too big for his body. The colt paused as he saw the draconequus, a curious expression coming over his face.

Once again the entryway was silent, the two of them staring at one another. The colt tilted his head to the side, running his eyes down the length of Discord’s body from head to toe, then sliding over to the comatose mare lying on the floor. Oddly enough, he didn’t seem to react with surprise at all to the unconscious adult, instead bringing his attention back in Discord’s direction. Finally, he opened his mouth, a high, almost reedy voice coming out of it.

“Are you Discord?” he asked.

Well, that was certainly frank, Discord thought before answering. “Yes.”

“Oh.” The colt stood there for a moment, his head still cocked to one side. “Why?”

“Well, that’s an old question,” Discord said. “The usual answer is that because someone made a mistake, but then most don’t like to admit that the Creator made any mistakes because the Creator is supposed to be perfect … but then that would mean I was made on purpose, so—”

“Huh?” The colt was giving him a confused look now. “No. Why are you here?”

“Oh.” He nodded. “I guess that does make more sense. I’m here because the Princesses sent me here. To help with things.”

“Oh. Okay.” The colt turned his attention back down towards the lime-green mare once more. “And I thought she’d fainted because of another one of Stick’s pranks.”

“You don’t seem worried by that possibility,” Discord said, still not moving. Adult ponies were one thing, but children? How in the world am I supposed to act around a child?

“Naw, she faints all the time,” the colt said, shrugging. “She’s got a dis— … disorder?” He shrugged again. “It means if you scare her, she panics really good. And faints.”

“I see,” Discord said, crouching and taking a closer look at the mare. Maybe I should have actually used that stethoscope for something.

“Are you here to fix her?” The question cut through his thoughts, slicing apart a particularly interesting chain involving a water buffalo and a case of pies.

“What?”

“Fix her,” the colt repeated. “Grown-ups say that you change stuff. All kinds of stuff. Is that why you’re here?”

“Well …” He frowned. “I don’t think so. It probably wouldn’t be a good idea.”

“But could you do it?”

“Well … yes, I could,” he admitted. “But I could also make her pee fire.” The colt’s eyes widened. “And believe me, that joke gets old after the first case of burn trauma. So no, I’m not going to do that. Besides, I doubt she’d appreciate it.”

“Why?”

“Well …” he said, looking down at the colt and searching for a good answer. “Because some ponies really like things the way the are, and don’t like things being the way they’re not.” The colt’s brow furrowed. “Besides,” he continued, changing the topic. “Shouldn’t you be in school right now? Why are you here?”

“‘m sick,” the colt said, hanging his tongue out. “Cold.”

“Do you mean you are cold, or you have a cold?”

“The … second one,” the colt said. “A bunch of us caught it. It makes your throat sore, makes your head hurt, and makes you all tired.”

“Well, at least you’re not throwing up.”

“No ... “ the colt said. “But I can’t breathe through my nose, and I keep blowing all kinds of colors out of it. Makes it hard to sleep.”

“Ah,” Discord said. There wasn’t much else to say. He glanced down at the comatose mare lying on the floor. “So … should we be doing something or … ?”

“Naw,” the colt said, shaking his head. “She always wakes up after … After a minute or two.”

As if in response to his words, the pony on the floor stirred, letting out a slight groan, her legs shifting. One hoof came up to rest on her forehead.

“Uh …” she said, her eyes still closed. “Again?”

“You fainted, Ms. Rose,” the colt said.

“Yes,” the mare said, rolling into a laying position and rubbing at her head. She still hadn’t opened her eyes. “I think there was somepony at the door …” She opened her eyes and looked up.

He couldn’t help himself. “Boo.”

The mare’s eyes rolled back with a moan, and she collapsed again. The colt gave him a suspicious look, and he shrugged.

“I was curious.”

Yet again the entryway went silent. Discord chewed at his lower lip as the colt looked up at him, giving him an expectant expression. “What?” he asked as the stare continued.

The colt shrugged. “I don’t know. You’re the grown-up. Aren’t you supposed to be telling me what to do?”

Discord couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. “Me? I don’t know the first thing about running an orphanage. I’d be the last person you’d want telling you what to do, unless you think the lawn out front could use some decorating.”

“What kind of decorating?” the colt asked.

“Oh … I don’t know. Probably something like banana bushes, or ice cream trees. Of course, if I did that, the next decorative feature would probably be me, in stone.”

“Like, they’d make a statue of you?” the colt asked, his eyes narrowing, a confused look on his face. “For making an ice-cream tree?”

“Exactly,” he said, wagging a talon. “They’d make a statue of me.” He wasn’t sure if the colt had caught the significance of his words, but he appeared to be trying at least. After a few seconds of screwing his face up in concentration, the young pony finally shook his head and gave his honest opinion.

“Grown-ups are weird.”

“And on that, my young friend, we agree,” Discord said, smiling again. “But, since if I were in charge and doing what I wanted I’d likely end up encased in stone—” Again the odd look, like the colt was halfway sure he had figured out what Discord was hinting at but wasn’t entirely positive, “—and the only other individual of rank here—” Again the colt’s face took on a puzzled look, but when he nodded in the direction of the comatose Ms. Rose, the look was replaced with an “ah” of understanding. “—that would mean that there’s really only one being here who can determine what to do.”

“Who?” the colt asked.

“Why, you of course!” Discord said, snapping his talons and materializing a pair of epaulets in the air above the colt’s shoulders. “You’re the only one who knows what’s going on. So, with that in mind …” He snapped his heels together, a pair of crisp, leather parade boots clicking as he snapped one paw up in salute. “Orders, Captain … Um …” He looked down at the colt, who was just now pushing back the too-large military helmet that had appeared on his head. “Begging your pardon, sir, but this private does not know your name!”

“My name?” The helmet finally rocked back enough that the colt’s big, brown eyes could look up at him. “I’m Bit. Bit Spark.”

“Pleased to meet you, sir!” Discord barked, the timber in his voice making the colt take a step back. Better tone it down. “Private Discord, reporting for duty!” He winked and then bent down slightly. “That means you need to tell me what to do,” he whispered. For a moment Bit looked confused, but then his expression widened into a grin.

“Okay—” he began, his voice still reedy even as he puffed out his chest.

“Okay, private,” Discord corrected.

Bit nodded. “Okay, Private Discord. Well, we should …” He looked back towards the unconscious Ms. Rose. “I guess we should take Ms. Rose to … the kitchen?”

“The kitchen?”

“Well, it’s more of a messy hall, or at least that’s what Ms. Rose calls it,” Bit said as he stepped over towards the unconscious mare. “There’s about fifty of us here, so it’s not really a kitchen, but there is a kitchen …” He shrugged, helmet bouncing against his shoulders as he looked down at Ms. Rose. “Anyway, I guess if you push, and I pull on her tail …”

“Oh no you don’t,” Discord said, snapping his claws as Bit moved to bite down on his—teacher’s? Matron’s? Stand-in parent’s? He wasn’t quite sure what the title was for her position, but whatever her title’s—tail. The colt’s teeth clacked on empty air as the periwinkle tail lifted upwards, along with the rest of the mare. Bit’s eyes widened as she came to a stop about halfway towards the ceiling, slowly spinning.

“Whoa,” Bit said. “How’d you do that?” He turned a curious eye in Discord’s direction. “She’s not glowing, so you’re not using leva—levitation magic.”

“No, I’m not,” Discord said. “I just tweaked the way gravity sees her. Now she’ll be easier to take to your messy hall.” He gave the mare a light push with one paw, sending her floating toward the wall. “Hopefully she doesn’t have a queasy stomach.”

“So gravity can see ponies?” Bit asked.

Right … kid. “Figure of speech.” Discord waved one paw. “Lead on, Captain Spark! I’ll tend to Ms. Rose.”

“O-kay!” The colt snapped a salute, his larger-than-average hoof ringing against the side of his helmet, and then turned and began trotting through the doorway he’d entered from, leading down another hallway. Discord didn’t bother correcting the youth’s mistaken salute.

Well, he thought as he gave Ms. Rose a gentle push on the flank, floating her down the hall ahead of him. Not exactly what I expected …

He took advantage of the colt’s slow pace to get a better look at the orphanage around him. Like the outside, the inside of the building bore signs once more of having likely been owned by a wealthy family, but like the outside, time and the current occupation of the structure had necessitated changes. He could see faint hollows on the walls where more exotic and old-fashioned lighting fixtures had been removed, replaced with smaller, more modern magilights. What had once been expensive, patterned wallpaper—a spiraling design that managed to both look like twisting vines in summer while still working in a nod or two toward the Royal Sisters' seal—had been, for the most part, replaced by simpler and more modern materials. Materials which, he could see from the repeated coats of paint, had probably suffered their share of damage, accident, or in at least two instances, works of fine art left at crayon-point.

Still, for all the bits of ancient molding left along the ceiling or the obvious hoofmarks left worn into the floor underfoot, the place still had a bit of a “homey” feel to it. Or at least, I assume that’s what that is, he thought as he followed the colt through what looked like a study room of sorts, filled with thick, heavy, and durable chairs and an assortment of writing tables. Pictures of happy, smiling colts and fillies stared down at him from nearby walls, and in several instances he spotted recurring instances of those same ponies—only now as adults and waving to the camera alongside a whole new generation of children.

Charming, he thought as he stared at the smiles. It would appear that Full Futures has a history. Sure enough, as they moved further into the house, he began seeing older photographs, blurry or in black-and-white.

Interesting, he thought as he passed a picture of a colt showing off a homemade device of some kind. I’ll have to keep these all in mind if I get bored or need a jolt one day. Swapping all the colored photographs for black-and-white ones would give him a steady trickle of chaos energy, as well as be amusing.

“You looking at the pictures?” the colt asked, slowing and then hiding his muzzle behind his hoof as he let out a phlegmy-sounding cough.

Discord snapped his head forward, bringing one paw up in another salute. “Sorry, sir! I took my mind off of my duties, sir!” He reached out with one talon and caught ahold of his wayward charge’s tail, tugging her back before her head could collide with a nearby wall.

“Naw, it’s fine,” Bit said, shrugging. “They’re all old pictures of other kids that lived here.”

“What about when they’re older?” he asked, pointing at one.

“They come back all the time. You know, to help out,” Bit said. “Some of them even adopt somepony.”

“Really?” Discord lifted one brow as he looked down at the colt.

“Uh-huh,” Bit said. “Ms. Rose says it’s because they want to make sure we’re happy.”

“Are you?”

Bit shrugged. “I like it. I mean, I don’t have a mom or dad, but I’ve got friends, and Ms. Rose and the rest of the staff take good care of us.”

Discord didn’t say anything in response, but merely nodded. Bit seemed to take it as a sign to move on, and a moment later they were moving back through the building, toward the back of the structure. Something tickled at his nose, a unusual caress of sharp, spicy scents that made his mouth water. He could hear pots and pans banging together in the distance. The “messy hall,” then.

Ahead of him, his charge let out a groan, and for a moment he was afraid that she was waking up, but she quieted again as an errant twitch of her leg spun her onto her back. I wonder what her story is? he thought as he followed Bit Spark. Is she here because it’s a job? Is her special talent working with rambunctious hooligans? The mare twisted in the air, giving him a good view of her cutie mark, a fuchsia blossom of some kind—he wasn’t exactly an expert—just barely beginning to bloom.

Maybe I’ll get an answer out of her if she stops collapsing in a dead faint every time she sees me, he thought, only half-stopping a scowl from coming across his face. Oh, I can’t wait to tell Moon-butt about this. “How was your day, Discord?” “Wonderful! The place you sent me to? The mare in charge screamed and fainted the moment she saw me!” In his mind, the actors of the scene applauded and took a bow.

Up ahead there was a sudden chorus of metal-on-metal bangs, followed by the sound of a single dish spinning on the floor, winding down the way all dishes seemed wont to do when dropped, and Discord quite clearly heard a voice shout “Horseapples!”

“Stacks!” Bit had picked up speed, galloping ahead through the end of the hallway and into what looked like a large, well, mess hall, his hooves sliding across the wooden floor as he dodged benches and tables and ducked out of sight. “The new helper’s here!”

“Huh?” The voice was male and deep, almost rumbling, though there was a lighthearted tone behind it. “Bit, you little scamp, what are you doing out of bed? And where’d you get the helmet?”

“The new helper gave it to me.”

Discord could hear the energy in the colt’s voice. Stacks must be fairly popular around here, he thought as he moved to round the doorway. Then again, if he’s the one making all the food …

“Really?” came Stacks’ voice once again, followed by a ringing sound as something rapped the side of the helmet in question. “Where’d they get it? And who are they? Something about it feels a little—”

“Off?” Discord asked as he stepped around the corner of the doorway, Rose floating in front of him. One side of the mess hall had been expanded outward, the addition turned into a fairly good-sized kitchen currently occupied by a large, stocky, tan unicorn with a long, dark mane currently secured under a mane-net. The unicorn was looking at him in shock, the magenta magic field around the spoon he’d rapped Bit’s helmet with sparking and almost giving out. “Yeah, I get that a lot.” Here it comes ...

“Who—?” the unicorn began, not even bothering to finish the question. His eyes darted towards the unconscious form of his boss floating in the air, widening even further, and he took a step forward, pushing Bit behind him with one leg. “Discord!” There was no mistaking the hostility in his voice. “What’d you do—?”

“She fainted,” Discord said dryly, snapping his claws and dispelling his alteration around Ms. Rose, lowering her to rest atop one of the heavy wooden tables. “And no, I’m not here to reign eternal chaos upon you.” He dropped onto one of the other tables in a sitting position, the thick wood letting out a faint meow as it bounced like a spring mattress beneath him. “After all,” he said, leaning back. “You’re a cook in a kitchen at an orphanage. You’ve already got plenty of chaos to manage.” Not that a little more wouldn’t hurt … but he left that bit unsaid.

“He’s the new helper!” Bit said, stepping back out from behind Stacks and pushing his helmet back once more as he looked up at the unicorn. “From the castle.”

“Are you now?” Stacks asked, suspicion still so thick in his voice it might as well have been syrup.

“Indeed!” Discord said, snapping his claws and summoning the necessary papers—well, paper, unfortunately, as it was a lot less official looking—from the air, along with a pair of thin, block spectacles. “This missive here, signed and sealed by the diarchs, verifies that I am to render aid, assistance, and general help on these premises as-needed and requested of the Night Court until as such time that my efforts are no longer required.” He gave the paper a flick of his claws, sending it floating lazily across the hall where Stacks snatched it out of the air with a magenta glow.

“This is legit?” Stacks asked as he looked down at the paper.

“By all means, check,” Discord said with a shrug. “But it is genuine. Be honest, do you really think that I’d bother to fake something like that? Especially with two immortals looking over my shoulder at every opportunity?” He turned his head, waving away the pair of parrots that had just settled on his shoulders. One was dark blue and let out an indignant squawk, while the one which was white with a rainbow sheen simply gave him a glare before vanishing in a puff of feathers.

“Well …” Stacks said. “That is a valid point.” The suspicious look on his face didn’t fade, though. “And this does look genuine. So why’d they send you?”

Discord shrugged. “Because I made eye contact at the wrong moment? I certainly didn’t raise my hand and ask to be sent here. I just do what they tell me to, willingly, as evidence that I am eager to repay my debt to society.”

“Really?”

“Well …” he said, plucking the glasses from his face and flipping them idly in one paw. “Maybe not super willingly … but enough that I’m not practicing my pigeon perching skills. So …” He rose, glasses vanishing as he walked across the hall. “I already met young Bit Sparks there, and, as you can see, had a run-in with the comatose Ms. Rose. I’m Discord, immortal demigod of chaos. Which … you knew, obviously.” He came to a stop a few feet from the stallion and then extended his paw. “Currently under the watchful eye of Celestia and Luna to make up for some poor choices of mine.”

“Very poor choices,” Stacks said, lifting one eyebrow as he looked at the extended paw. “But … Horseapples, if Luna and Celestia think it’s what we need, well …” He nodded, his shoulders dropping slightly as a small bit of the hostility came out of them, and then extended his hoof. “I guess that’s good enough for me. Short Stack.”

“But we call ‘im Stacks!” Bit volunteered as Discord shook the stallion’s hoof. “Cause he always serves us lots of food!”

“Sure,” the stallion said, chuckling as he looked down at the colt. “That’s one reason. Anyway,” he said, turning his attention back up toward Discord as he pulled his hoof back. “Sorry for the reaction, but—”

“No, I understand,” Discord said, shaking his head. Happens all the time anyway. I’ve never exactly been ‘welcome’ in any home but my own or Fluttershy’s. I get that she hopes that might change, but … “Though I must admit, your co-worker there still takes the cake.”

“Who, Prim?” Stacks asked, glancing at the unconscious mare. “No, she’s got a disorder—”

“He knows about it,” Bit piped up. “I told him!” He beamed a proud smile up at Stacks.

“Oh, okay, so you know that already?” Stacks asked. Discord nodded. “Right,” he continued. “Well then in that case, I guess I could introduce you to the staff … but the few we have are part-time, and actually out right now. As are most of the kids, save a few like Bit here that are—”

“Sick!” Bit said, his reedy voice piping up once more. “I told him!”

“Right,” Stacks said, nodding as he turned to the colt once more. “Which reminds me, aren’t you supposed to be in bed right now getting rest?”

“Yeah …” Bit said. “It was just hard to sleep with Ms. Rose screaming.” Stacks appeared to think about it for a moment before nodding.

“Fine, that’s an acceptable answer, but now that she’s not screaming anymore, kiddo, where do you think you ought to be?”

“Umm … In bed?”

Stacks nodded. “Got it in one. So come on, give Mr. Discord his helmet back …”

“Oh, he can keep it,” Discord said, waving a paw. “I can make dozens of them.”

“No, no,” Stacks said, a magenta field wrapping the item and plucking it from Bit’s head. “Here.” He tossed it, and Discord snatched it from the air, idly spinning it on one claw before launching it over his shoulder. It didn’t hit the ground.

“Anyway, off to bed with you,” Stacks said, giving Bit a nudge with one hoof. “And I’ll see about waking up Prim.”

“Okay,” Bit said, obviously a little disappointed by the loss of his helmet. The epaulets had already vanished. “Bye, Mr. Discord.” The colt trotted out of the room, hiding another phlegmy cough behind one hoof.

“Cute kid,” Discord said as the colt’s hoofsteps faded. “So, now what?”

“Well …” Stacks said, running his eyes around the kitchen, his horn lighting as he made a few minute adjustments to a stove. “I guess I wait for Prim there to wake up—”

“Prim?”

“Prim Rose,” Stacks said, nodding in the unconscious mare’s direction. “She’s the administrator here. Runs the place. Normally, she’d be giving you the grand tour and assigning you somewhere to help, but since she’s out of it at the moment—” There was a faint moan, and Stacks paused. “Nevermind, looks like she’s coming around.”

There was another moan, and then the administrator pushed herself to her hooves, shaking her head wearily. “What—?” she began, only for her eyes to lock on the demigod of chaos. Then, with a moan, she slumped to the tabletop.

“Huh,” Discord said, turning to look back at Stacks, a blank expression on his face. “I don’t know what I expected.”

“Really?” Stacks asked. “Because that’s pretty much what I expected. Arrested development. Which means …” He let out a sigh as he looked back at his kitchen. “Can I trust you in a kitchen?”

“Absolutely!” Discord said, grinning as he whipped a chef’s hat atop his head. “And unlike some protagonists, I don’t have a rodent under my hat!”

“A what?”

“Nevermind, I don’t think that one’s actually made it here yet … Anyway …” He brushed the front of his coat, eyeing one of the buttons and making sure it was polished into a nice “T” shape. “What are we cooking?”

“I am cooking a bunch of fried potatoes,” Stacks said, nodding in the direction of the kitchen. “Or I will be once someone peels them.”

“Peels them … ?” There was a sinking feeling in his gut, the last gurgle of the SS Optimism as it struck reality and went down.

“Yeah,” Stacks said, his horn lighting up and tugging a drawer open. A small knife floated out. “You’ve got talons. It’ll make it easier.”

“What about—”

“None of your chaos magic, please,” Stacks said, stern iron in his voice. “Things around here are busy enough without you warping reality.”

Well, Discord thought as the knife floating into his waiting hands. At least now we’re back more along the lines of exactly what I expected. Part of him wanted to toss the knife aside and walk out. Or better yet, show the tan-coated unicorn what a real chaotic kitchen looked like.

Except … he’d made a deal. And while the old him would have laughed and said “Who cares?” and in fact was inside his head somewhere shouting that exact phrase … he knew the answer. He wouldn’t. Not very. Until Celestia did. And her sister. And from there, Fluttershy and the purple alicorn whose name he didn’t want to recall at the moment.

Fine then. “Any other details?” he asked, knocking his hat aside with a backhand as he walked into the kitchen.

“Just … stay out of sight, all right?” Stacks called after him. “The potatoes are in the storage room on your right, next to the big pot. We’ll need about seventy.”

“Peeled?” Discord asked. To an utter lack of surprise, there wasn’t much enthusiasm in his voice.

“Peeled and diced,” Stacks said. “I’ll talk to Prim when she wakes up and explain the situation to her. Then we can work out what else we need you to do.”

“Lovely,” Discord said, though he kept it so low it almost came out of his kneecaps. He pushed on the first door to his left, exposing a small, slightly cramped storage room filled with bin after bin of potatoes. Probably a price-based thing. After all, potatoes were easy to prepare, easy to store, and fairly low cost. With a bunch of mouths to feed, there’s probably a lot of them … Which now that I think about it, doesn’t bode well for me.

An open pot sat near the center of the room, and he grabbed a closed crate, sliding it over next to the pot so that he would have something to sit on. A chorus of rubber ducks echoed from within the crate as it flexed under his serpentine physique, and he sighed as he reached out and picked up the first potato.

You could cheat, you know, his inner monologue said. No one would know.

I’d know, he shot back. And they’d probably figure it out anyway. Spirals, that unicorn out there picked up on that helmet right away. He knew it wasn’t right.

Right by whose definition?

You be quiet, he ordered. We’re doing this the right way, got it? The voice in his head went silent.

“Of course,” he admitted as he picked up the first potato and looked at the mound that was left to go. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to like it.” The blade made a faint rasping sound as it sliced through the first skin.

The potatoes? his inner voice asked. Or this whole thing?

“Both,” he said with a sigh as he finished the first cut, his ears drooping. “Both.”

Luna was behind her desk that evening when he slunk through the door to her study, his body wilted and his tail dragging across the carpet behind him. She looked up at him in surprise, setting a selection of papers aside as she took in his bedraggled face. “Well?” she asked, her voice quiet. “How was it?”

“Awful,” he said, waving his paws and changing one of the chairs in front of her desk into something a bit more comfortable. “Exactly as I expected it would be.”

“Oh?” The lunar demigod cocked one eyebrow, and he scowled.

“Yes, oh,” he said, holding up his paws. He’d deliberately left them untouched after he’d finished, so that Luna could see how raw they were. Small, stinging cuts crisscrossed every inch of his flesh, angry red lines standing out like lightning strikes. And they were angry. They’d been mumbling at him all day.

“That looks … uncomfortable,” Luna admitted. “Though I would be more impressed if I was not aware that you could fix that.”

“Oh, that’s not the point,” he said, burning a bit of chaos energy and tweaking his paws until they were just the way he liked them. “Do you know what they had me doing all day, Woona? Peeling and dicing potatoes.”

“Well,” she replied, spreading her wings slightly. “At least they—”

“Out of sight,” he growled.

“Oh,” Luna said, pausing. “Are you sure that was what they—?”

“They said it to my face,” he said, leaning forward. “They made me peel and dice potatoes in a back room. ‘No magic’ they said. Didn’t want me messing up the place with my wrongness. Then they had me fixing pipes in the basement. Again, out of sight, out of mind! I wasn’t even introduced to most of the staff! I couldn’t even tell you how many there are without using my magic!” He slumped back, most of his frustration out of his system.

Luna let out a sigh. “I am sorry, Discord.”

“Whatever,” he said, waving a claw. “Why are you having me do this anyway?” He took a quick look around the study, noting the few paintings that had changed since the last time he’d been there. Several spots were open on the wall, a sign that the Princess had once again given those particular works out for one reason or another. There was even a new canvas beside the desk, blank and waiting for its owner’s touch. For a moment he was tempted to turn it into a kaleidoscope of color, to work out some of his frustrations, but … it wouldn’t accomplish anything. And it wasn’t his, anyway.

“I …” Luna paused, but he leaned forward anyway. “Because it needs to happen, Discord.”

“That’s it?” He scowled. “Because it ‘needs to?’ How cryptic. How utterly … unhelpful.” He turned. “I may as well go talk to Philomena. She at least offers reasonable answers.”

“Discord, please.”

He paused. There was something in the her words, something that called him to a halt.

“Fine,” he said, turning. “If you’re willing to be a bit more forthcoming, I suppose I can convince myself to stay.”

“The truth is … I can not tell you why you need to be there.”

“If this is some kind of joke—”

“It is not. I swear it,” Luna said, shaking her head and sending furious ripples down her starry mane. “There is a purpose to sending you to Full Futures. Not just for you, but for the orphanage as well.”

“Past them desperately needing a real plumber?” he asked, cocking one eyebrow.

“Far past it,” Luna replied, her expression stern. “But if I were to reveal to you the nature of what it was—”

“Ah, I get it,” he said, nodding. “It’s one of those things where if you have to explain it, it’s ruined.”

“Not quite,” came the reply. “But that is quite similar to what I intended to say, yes.”

“Fine.” He leaned forward, resting one elbow on his desk. “One. Day.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me,” he said, scowling. “One more day. That’s all I’ll put up with. I’m not about to lie down and just let my nature be thrown in my face once more.”

“Three days.”

“Luna …”

“Please.”

He pulled back, surprised. Her words hadn’t been in jest, or even direct, as an order. She was pleading with him, her eyes wide and staring right into his.

Suddenly he was very uncomfortable.

“I—” It was too much. She actually meant what she was saying. “Fine!” He stood, shoving his chair back. “Three days. Then you can give me ten more assignments, I don’t care.”

“In three days, one way or another, I will not,” Luna replied. “Three days is all I ask.”

“Fine.” For a moment the room was quiet, and then he smiled. “Now, how to tell Celestia ... ?”

Luna’s expression of concern faded, confusion moving across her muzzle. “My sister? Why would you need to—?”

“Well, it’s only obvious, Woo-woo,” he said, flashing her a smile with far too many white, perfect teeth. “You actually care about me! Dare I say, you might even be falling in—”

The thunderous roar that blew him from the room was so loud it wasn’t until he was halfway down the hall that his mind caught up with what she’d been saying, rearranging the letters into “REMOVE YOURSELF FROM MY PRESENCE, CUR!” He picked himself up from the rug, ignoring the two crystalline lances the Crescent Guard had pointed at him as he dusted himself off, and then sniffed.

“I guess I should have just sent her a card,” he said to the two guards, before tugging open a nearby tapestry and stepping through it. “Fine,” he said as he stepped into his living room. “Three days. I guess I can deal with three … days …”

His voice faded away. His home was a disaster. Everything was wrong! Out of place!

Organized.

“NOOOOO!”

Somewhere far, far away, a member of the Canterlot Castle cleaning staff felt a sudden glow of satisfaction, and snuggled deeper into her pillow with a contented sigh.