Day two, Discord thought as he came to a stop outside the entrance to the orphanage kitchen, glancing idly at the crates of food that had been delivered sometime earlier that morning but not collected yet. Here we go. He lifted one paw, no longer sore and swollen in feel but still somewhat in looks—a purposeful decision he’d decided wouldn’t hurt—and rapped on the door. Two short howls rang out from the wood, sounding for all the world like the long-distance tunnel speak used by diamond dogs, followed by one yip and a classic “woof.”

“Huh.” He stared down at his paw in surprise. “And I only knocked three times. Impressive.” He’d have to play it carefully today if he didn’t want another complaint lodged with the Solar Court. Granted, if his first full day of volunteer work had been anything to go by, there would probably be a complaint lodged against him in any case, but all the better not to give them any real weight to put behind it.

The door in front of him creaked open, the somewhat familiar visage of Stacks appearing in the opening, his dark mane—so dark it had taken Discord a glance into its chromal makeup to realize it was actually red—already covered in a fine, mesh mane net.

“Morning,” Stacks said, his voice completely neutral. Which, while not welcoming, beat the alternative. “You’re back, huh?”

Discord grinned. “Why of course!” He stepped forward into the kitchen stockroom without even waiting for an invitation. “You know us immortal types. I simply couldn’t wait to experience your hospitality again.”

“Uh-huh,” Stacks said, shifting to keep him in view but not bothering to shut the door. “And are you here on official business, or … ?”

Discord put a paw to his chest and gave the unicorn and expression of mock pain. Ham it up! “Do you even have to ask? You wound me!” He threw his head back dramatically as one limb fell off, hitting the floor with a faint thump. “Why else would I be here except on official business? After all, your boss made it quite clear how welcome I am otherwise.”

“‘s’long as you don’t go twisting things that shouldn’t be twisted, you’re perfectly welcome,” Stacks said, though Discord could tell from the pony’s tone exactly how little he meant it.

“Yes, well I believe we already established that,” Discord said, pausing to collect his wayward limb before it could form an obscene—and somewhat ancient—gesture. “Tell me, do any of your young wards get such special treatment? Wing clippings, perhaps? Horn rings?”

Ooh, he thought as Stacks’ face darkened slightly. I touched a nerve there, didn’t I? Discord opened his mouth, another sharp, biting insult on the tip of his tongue … but then snapped his jaw shut again, trapping the painful retort inside his own cheeks and trying not to grimace in pain as it tore into them.

Still, draconequus cheeks were made of sterner stuff than an insult that had been meant for ears other than his own, and he swallowed it, burying the comment once and for all.

Fluttershy will be proud of that one, he thought as he watched Stacks, waiting for the unicorn to speak. He appeared to be halfway between wanting to fire back an insult of his own—and certainly it wasn’t that there weren’t a multitude to choose from given the spotty past of his target—and holding back. Luckily, temperance seemed to be winning … though it couldn’t hide the look of distaste in the unicorn’s eyes.

“So …” Discord said, running his eyes across the rest of the storage room and taking in the shelves of cooking supplies and spices, many of which had the look of donated, goodwill items. “What’s on the docket for today?”

At his question, some—but not all—of Stacks’ distaste faded. “Oh,” the unicorn said, lighting his horn and sliding the crates outside the door into the room. “We’ve got the perfect job for you. I believe you got some experience with it yesterday?”

“Ah.” So that was it, then. “Scraping varnish?”

“The perfect job,” Stacks said. “Very private and lots to keep you busy. Plenty of varnish to scrape off. And you’re doing a good job of it, too. You managed to get almost a quarter of that hall cleared!” He shut the door to the outside, the only light in the storage room flickering in from the kitchen. “So, shall I take you there?”

“I can hardly wait,” Discord said, trying not to sigh. “What … fun.”

The scraper hit the next section of varnish with a dull, rhythmic thump that resonated up Discord’s arm. Then, as he pushed, it slid over the brown, sticky section of wall, the metal blade peeling up a dingy, yellowish slice of aged lacquer. His arm reached its full extension, and he pulled the blade away. Next came a little flick of the wrist, tossing the slice of shriveled shellac away, and then it was back to the first step again. Plant blade. Push. Pull away. Flick. Repeat. Until the wood was bare and he could move down to the next section.

Part of him wanted to use his powers, even just to make the job easier. It wouldn’t be hard. A bit of a tweak to the size of the blade, for instance, to make it a bit wider and capable of picking up a bit more varnish at a go. And at the same time, he could sharpen the edge a little bit, make it a bit easier to push. It wouldn’t take much energy to do, and the resulting imbalance as the world adjusted would likely more than pay for the cost, even though in a small trickle.

He was so lost in the thought that he almost didn’t notice the blade growing larger as he reached out subconsciously, and with a start he snapped it back to size.

No, he reminded himself, pointing at the tool as if it had been the offending party. We’re doing this the right way. If they don’t want me using my magic, then I won’t. He would hold to his end of the bargain. I told Celestia and Luna I’d do whatever they asked in return for amnesty for aiding Tirek. And if that means obeying an order from Full Futures to not use my magic, well …

It was grating, almost as grating as running the scraper down the length of the wall. But he’d do it.

After all, being sentenced to scraping shellac off a wall without magic as punishment for nearly dooming an entire world, well ...

When you put it that way, it hardly sounds fair, doesn’t it? But then again, it seemed like that was part of what Luna and Celestia were trying to teach him. Mercy came hoof-in-paw with forgiveness, it seemed.

Scrape-thunk. Scrape-thunk. Scrape-thunk. Scrape-rattle. Scrape—Wait a minute.

He froze, frost coating his paws as the scraper came to a complete stop. There had been a noise, he was sure of it. And it wasn’t the distant shouting of one of the caretakers struggling to be heard over their charges, either. That bit of background din he’d tuned out. Plus, it had been distant, and this particular sound had been close.

Discord turned, bits of ice flaking from his body and dissolving into puffs of lemon-scented air before they could hit the ground. The hallway behind him was empty.

“Hello?” he asked, peering down the empty space. “Anypony there?”

The rattle came again, his ears twisting backwards as they tracked the noise. Bingo. It was coming from the floor above him.

But … had it always? He waited a bit longer, staring up at the ceiling as if daring it to make a move, but being a piece of inanimate architecture—boring that, but who was he to judge?—it didn’t.

Probably a member of the staff, he thought as he went back to work, flakes of varnish once again falling with a regular rhythm to the floor. Or maybe one of the sick kids, sneaking out of their bedroom. One thing to be glad of with his current position: At least it didn’t involve working with children. Though the one that had come to the door on his first day hadn’t seemed bad.

Still, he thought as he continued scraping. Can you just imagine? Me working with children?

Actually he could imagine. A wisp of blue-scented smoke trickled out of one ear, and he gave his head a quick shake, dispersing the cloud. No, that wouldn’t end well, he thought. I don’t even think I’d want to risk that in Ponyville. Granted, of course, Ponyville had been ground-zero for most of his chaos when he’d escaped from his stone imprisonment, but even so …

The scraper continued its raspy path across another nearly cleared section of wood, and he moved down once more. Ahead of him, the rest of the hall beckoned.

“So, Discord. I’m surprised.”

“Hmm?” Discord looked up from his sandwich—and the tiny, fuzzy terror that so many seemed to believe was a bunny, though even he himself had to admit it didn’t act much like one—to see Fluttershy giving him an inquisitive look. “You are?”

“Of course,” the butter-colored pegasus replied, her voice so soft he could have made a mattress out of her words and curled up for a nice, long nap. “Last time you were here, you were so excited to almost be done. You couldn’t stop telling me how excited you were about only having one assignment left to do for Celestia and Luna … not that I minded, of course.”

He nodded. Ah, Fluttershy. Dear, sweet, understanding Fluttershy. Always willing to listen, always interested. No matter what.

“But today you haven’t talked about it at all,” Fluttershy said, her eyes growing wide with worry. “And you were so excited about it. Did something bad happen? You didn’t get into trouble, did you?”

“Me? Into trouble?” He put a paw to his chest and shook his head. “Why of course not. I’ve been on my best behavior.”

A mocking scoff came from the side of the table, and he frowned as he looked down at Angel. “No, I mean it,” he said. “Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.” The bunny’s glare softened as Discord went through the motions that came with the rhyme, but didn’t quite fade.

“Anyway,” he said, turning his attention back to Fluttershy once more. “I really have been on my best behavior, Fluttershy. It’s just …”

“What is it?”

“Well,” he said, taking a bite of his sandwich and giving himself an excuse to think. How do I explain it? “My final assignment turned out to be a bit … different … than I expected.”

“How?”

Ever the listener. If only more ponies were like you, Fluttershy.

“Princess Luna has assigned me to work at the Full Futures orphanage,” he said, watching as Fluttershy’s face lit up. “I’m to do whatever they ask me for a few days, today being the second day.”

“Oh …” Fluttershy let out a little “squee” of excitement. “That’s so wonderful! All of the children there and …” Her voice trailed off. “Oh, but you don’t look very happy. What’s the matter? Don’t you like working with all the colts and foals?”

“It’s ... “ He took another bite of his sandwich, offering a her a quick smile as he bit into the combination of lemon cake and peanut-butter. Only Fluttershy would make sure that some of the food she prepared for their luncheons was chaotic.

Finally, he shrugged. “I don’t know,” he admitted, bending down and resting the side of his jaw against one paw. “I can’t actually say. It’s not like they’re letting me work with any of them.”

“They’re not?” Fluttershy asked, shock in her voice.

“No,” he said. “They don’t even want me working with the staff. I’m under strict instructions not to use a drop of my magic, and they have me peeling varnish off of the walls in one of the wings, out of sight.” Fluttershy’s expression of dismay had morphed as he’d spoken, shifting closer towards something almost like anger. But not quite. It was Fluttershy, after all.

“Those … Those … meanies!” Then again, maybe she was mad. Perhaps even bordering on furious. “They won’t let you work with the children at all? And they have you out of sight? How dare they?”

“It’s fine, Fluttershy,” he said, waving a paw. “So it’s not the final job I expected. So what? I can’t force them to change their minds … well, I sort of could, but that’d be wrong. And me doing that kind of thing is probably why they’re acting the way they are in the first place, so in a way, it’s sort of fair.”

“No, it isn’t fair,” Fluttershy said, putting her hoof down on the tabletop and then pulling back in surprise at the tap the motion had sounded. “I mean, yes, you did do those things and they weren’t nice, but—”

“Not everypony is as forgiving as you Fluttershy,” he said quietly, staring down at the tabletop. “Twice I’ve entered your life as a force of chaos, and twice I’ve done great harm. I—”

“Oh, Discord, but you’re wrong.” Fluttershy’s words were so uncharacteristically full of volume that he stopped short.

“I’m sorry?”

“You’ve brought chaos into my life a lot more than twice,” Fluttershy continued, shaking her head. “And so many of those other times it hasn’t been a bad thing. Like that time you fixed Mr. Duck’s wing? He can fly so fast now; it’s wonderful.”

“Um … well, yes …” To be fair, he’d only given the duck hummingbird wings because he’d thought it would be funny. But the duck had liked it.

“And that time you helped me fix my chicken coop?”

“Well …” Sure, making it look like a giant Scootaloo had been a little mean, but he’d fixed that in the end.

“Or the time you helped—”

“All right, all right,” he said, spreading his paws. “I know. And you’re right. I did do those things. I also did the other things—”

“But you know they were wrong,” Fluttershy said. “And you don’t do them anymore.”

“I know,” he said. “But it doesn’t change the fact that I did them. Most aren’t so quick to forgive as you, Fluttershy. Element of Kindness and all that.”

“But—”

“Fluttershy, don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” he said. “Trust me, it’s nothing new. It’s always been like this.” His voice trailed off, and for a minute the home was silent.

Time to change the topic, he thought, clapping his paws. “Anyway, it’s only for another day or so, so if they want to be fuddy-duddies about things, I’ll survive. Now, what’s this I hear about you making googly-eyes at that Ranger in the forest, hmm?” He leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table as Fluttershy let out a gasp.

“I didn’t—! I mean I don’t—! Who told—?”

“Why Rainbow Dash, of course!” he replied, batting his eyes at her. “Well, not directly, but we just happened to bump into one another in the store, and she just might have mentioned …” He paused. “Well, that’s not important. What is important is this mystery Equestrian Ranger. What’s he like? Does he really have, as Rainbow put it, a really impressive wingspan?”

Fluttershy’s embarrassed squeak as she hid her muzzle behind her hooves said it all.

“The Princess will see you now,” one of the Guard said, motioning with one hoof towards the door.

Discord nodded in thanks as he stepped past the pair, watching as the light reflected off of the crystalline armor the two wore. Quite interesting stuff, that, he thought as he pulled the door open. I really should see its creator about having a set or two to play with. The way it interacted with incoming magic was truly fascinating, and he’d always wanted to give it a tweak to see how it responded.

“Discord.” The dark-blue immortal sitting behind her desk smiled at him as he walked into her office. “Please, have a seat.”

“If you insist,” he said, taking one of the seats sitting in front of her desk and slipping it into his pockets. “Do you mind if I sit?”

“Not at all,” Luna said, waving for him to go ahead, and smiling as he procured the chair he’d just acquired from behind his back.

“You seem in a good mood,” he said as he took a quick look around the office. It was much the same as the last time he’d been in it. The easel was still set up near the Princess’s desk, though the canvas had been covered by a light sheet, concealing whatever it was she was currently working on. “Normally you’re much less approving of my casual antics.”

“I may be several thousand years old, Discord, but I can still learn,” Luna replied, the smile still on her muzzle. “As can you, judging from my discussion with my sister earlier this evening.”

“Ah. Heard about my little mishap yesterday, did you?”

“I would hardly call it a mishap, Discord,” Luna said. “In fact, I would call it a testament to your growth. The you I remember would never have let such a slight go without retaliation. Though I still find it unfortunate that such treatment is persisting despite your best attempts. Was there any improvement of the situation today?”

He shook his head. “No, but they’re not pressing the issue past reminding me to stay out of sight. I haven’t even used my magic, just like they’ve ordered me to … Even though it would make the job a lit-tle easier.”

“Your restraint is impressive,” Luna said, and he could sense the sincerity in her words. “And what of the children?”

“Zilch,” he said, leaning back in his seat. “I haven’t seen hide nor hair of them since my arrival. I’m pretty sure the staff is keeping them away.”

Luna’s face fell, her expression taking on such a defeated look he almost felt guilty, though he was fairly certain it wasn’t his fault. “Luna?” he ventured.

The lunar diarch let out a sigh, closing her eyes, and then faced him once more. “I am sorry, Discord,” she said, her face once more a mask of control, the moment of weakness gone. “I had held high hopes for your assignment. Indeed, I wanted your final experience to be something of joy, not of reminders of the past. Perhaps even grow into something that you could continue with after your penance was over.”

“After?” He pulled back, confused.

“Yes, after,” Luna said. “What did you think would happen once you had repaid your debt?”

“I …” His voice trailed off, lost somewhere amid the crags of his fang. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I suppose I just thought I’d go back to doing whatever it is I feel like doing.”

“Which would be what?” Luna pressed.

He shrugged. “Spend time with Fluttershy? Relax? I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“Everyone needs relaxation, Discord,” Luna said, spreading her wings as she leaned forward. “But everyone also needs something to keep them occupied. Something to accomplish, to work towards. Work and struggle are part of life. I had hoped that this assignment would perhaps help point you in the direction of something you could continue with after your commitment to the court’s judgement was over.”

Since the Creator didn’t bother leaving me with an answer like the rest of you got, he thought. But he roped the thoughts off, letting out a whoop as he lassoed each of them before they could make it to his mouth. “Well, if anything, it’s taught me that I’m not particularly fond of paws-on construction work,” Discord replied instead. “So I think if I’m going to be looking for something productive to do after I’m done with this, it won’t be in that field.”

“Perhaps not,” Luna agreed, nodding. “Still, I had hoped that this job would be far fairer to you than it has been.”

“Does that mean I can call it good?” he asked, leaning forward slightly and giving her a hopeful look. His paws pulsed with anticipation … or maybe that was just from a few of the splinters Fluttershy hadn’t been able to get out.

Luna shook her head, her ethereal mane rippling. “No, we had a deal, as you may recall.”

“I know,” he said, groaning. “Three days.”

“Three days,” Luna echoed. “Who knows? Perhaps there yet lies a spark of something unexpected at Full Futures.”

There was something to the way she’d said that, something to the way she was looking at him that set off an alarm in the back of his head, screeching and wailing. She knew something, something she wasn’t telling him. Or at least suspected something. His eyes narrowed.

“What are you not telling me?” he asked.

“Only suspicions and hopes,” she said, and he had to admit that it sounded entirely truthful. “I cannot say at all that things will be what I hope, as obviously they already have not gone according to plan. But I hope anyway. Along those lines, however … You yourself, Discord, should keep a more open mind.”

“Why, whatever do you mean?” he asked, snapping the top of his skull shut.

“I mean that your exercises in restraint are admirable, but do not confine yourself with them. While you have been quite admirably low-key thus far, do not forget who you are.”

“So … don’t follow the rules?”

Luna shook her head. “Do follow the rules, Discord. But you of all beings should know that there is a difference between the letter of the law … and the spirit.”

“Usually when I make that kind of call, I get into trouble,” he said.

“Then learn,” Luna said. “And keep trying. Rules are not walls nor prison bars built to confine us, but guiding rails to give us direction. Do not let our rules be a cell, Discord. Let them be a guide.”

“Interesting point of conversation,” Discord said, tapping his chin. “I’ll have to think on it. So, one more day then?”

Another nod. “One more day,” Luna agreed. “But please, keep an open mind. Do not let the prejudices, however slight or even perhaps once-deserved, sway you.”

“Fine, fine, fine,” he said, waving his talons. “I’ll try, Woona. But only because you asked so nicely.”

“Then there is nothing more I can ask of you,” Luna said, rising from behind her desk. “Thank you for coming at my request. I shall bid you a good night.”

“Speaking of which,” Discord said, pausing by the door and turning back to look at his fellow immortal. “That spell you used to contact me. The sky snake. Was that—?”

“Yes, it was,” Luna said, nodding. “It is not as useful as it appears; you have to know the general location that somepony—or someone—is in for the spell to find them, and even then it is not foolproof and depends on the conditions of the weather as well as the sky-snake being smart enough, but—”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s a good spell. It even gave me a bit of a shock, dropping out of the sky like that.” He waited for the pun to strike home, and was rewarded with another small smile … though he knew it wasn’t for him.

“Everyone always tries to touch it,” Luna said, shaking her head, the smile still on her face as her eyes stared at something distant. “You would think that the first reaction to seeing a creature made out of lightning would be to not touch it, but some beings …” She shook her head again, the faraway look vanishing, but he’d already seen everything he needed to see in the immortal’s expression.

Even after so long ... he thought. Still.

“Well, it was nice to see it again,” he said. “And I appreciate you not following the prior standard and sending it after my tail." Always a joker, that one, he thought. “Anyway, until next time, Princess …” He raised his talons, ready to snap out a quick teleport, and then paused.

“One moment,” he said, stepping towards the desk. “I almost forgot my chair …”

“Disc—!” Whatever was going to follow Luna’s sudden shout vanished as he teleported clear of the castle, the chair she’d “offered” him clutched in one paw.

“Oh, Luna,” he said, grinning as he reappeared somewhere atop the Unicorn Range, a brilliant, pink panorama spread out before him under the setting sun. “You were right. You really have to watch what you say.”

He snapped his talons once more, a door appearing in the air atop the peak. It was time to go home.

There was only one day left.