Questions burn through Big Mac’s jumbled mind. Lemon and Meringue have been studying Chaos with Discord, and he puts it at too much of a coincidence for them not to be involved together. Which means the draconequus knows of his dilemma. Can he trust this offer of assistance? How would he help?

Or, perhaps most importantly, what would it cost?

“Hmm,” Discord remarks to himself, jotting down notes. His mismatched horn and antler scrape against the ceiling, his torso uncomfortably coiled to fit inside the small box of a storeroom. He regards Big Mac again, unsuccessfully tries to stretch, then goes back to his notepad.

If Big Mac didn’t know any better - he interacts with the ‘reformed’ Lord of Chaos as little as he can, let Lemon and Meringue play foalsitter for the unhinged enigma - he might feel some measure of pity for the cramped conditions. As it stands, he just wants to get out with all his limbs correctly proportioned. And attached.

Discord lets out a long, forlorn sigh that borders on being melodramatic. “I knew it was too simple, too elegant.” He shakes his head while clicking his tongue.

Before Big Mac can inquire further a hoof pounds at the door.

“Discord!” Lemon shouts from outside, warbling and on the verge of tears. “Let me in!”

The door swings open, seemingly of its own accord, except it goes to the ceiling instead of the side. Big Mac gets the barest glimpse of the other interested mares clustering around Sugar Belle’s pies before the door swings shut with a reverberating boom.

“Big Mac!” Lemon squeals in delight as she barrels inside.

Big Mac worriedly takes a step back, partly from the boom, but also from the sheer giddiness the mare radiates.

Lemon skitters to a stop when she sees his reluctance. “Big Mac,” she says again, pleading with every fiber of her body. “What’s wrong?”

Big Mac chews on his lip. What’s wrong? What isn’t wrong? How is he supposed to put into words that, for his whole life, mares have avoided him like the trots? Who wouldn’t be dismayed about the exhausting work and long hours he puts into his labor of love? Sure, Sweet Apple Acres is a prosperous farm in every way but bits, their wide-spread acclaim available to the masses at Applejack and Granny Smith’s insistence. But that doesn’t have the same appeal to an individual mare; they aren’t looking to hitch themselves to a mute brute, to a stallion devoted to such a grueling mark. They want a stay-at-home stud to watch over the foals. And now he has five of them?!

He stares at the lanky mare, not yet filled out despite inhaling her dam’s cooking. He has a hard time separating the grown mare from the inquisitive filly from a year ago. In fact, all of Doug’s foals have sprouted up like weeds once they got their cutie mark, famished flowers finding fertilizer and finally flourishing. “It’s hard to say.”

Lemon nods patiently. “I can wait.”

Discord huffs, but when challenged by Lemon’s crossed glare he says, “Well, you might, but those mares outside won’t. Tick tock.”

Big Mac knows this won’t be easy, and it’s not like he has any practice breaking mare’s hearts. But what can he say? The objections wither before they can even reach his tongue. Age? She’s old enough, barely. Size? Irrelevant, they’d make it work, and with how fast she’s growing? He’s known her since she was born, she’s grown up on the farm, and feels like a little sister to him. Maybe that one would stick. “This ain’t right, between us.”

Her lip quivers, eyes watering, and he’s not sure how long he can resist drowning in those watery depths. He takes a deep breath, close to gasping. The air whistles through his teeth, and his wheezing exhale sounds suspiciously like the Cider Squeezy, mechanized and synthetic. He suspects Discord is messing with him.

He finally says, “Yer mah sister’s herdmate’s elder filly.”

Discord holds up his claws and tries to fit them together, a puzzle that doesn’t fit. “And… what does that make you?”

“Absolutely nothing!” Lemon steps forward with an assuredness that surprises the stallion. “I love you! I want to spend the rest of my life with you, to help you along the way, to bear your burdens and your foals!”

Big Mac can scarcely believe it; he likes to think he taught Applejack a thing or two, yet he can’t sense any sort of dishonesty from the mare in front of him. Hay, even her scent screams that she’s serious, her musk intoxicating, and it’s all he can do to keep from getting distracted - neigh, overwhelmed by it. He doesn’t dare look at those slender, taunting flanks. When did this idea get planted in her head? And what did Discord mean when he said it was too simple, too elegant? He glances at the draconequus, as if there might be any answers there.

Lemon notices. She asks Discord, fervent eyes never leaving Big Mac, “Did you tell him?”

“And spoil your big reveal?” Discord bows, inviting her to continue.

Now it’s Lemon’s turn to take a deep breath. “Discord helped make a love potion, so we can live together in Love and Harmony.”

Big Mac snorts in disbelief. Like they could trust him. “Eeyup?”

“Honest to Celestia!” Discord’s lab coat shifts to a collared tan shirt festooned with badges of every shape and color. He holds up two claws in an unfamiliar salute, the other two making a circle. After a moment he gives an apologetic shrug, sending the badges shifting around. “Well, as far as I can foresee. I’m the reformed Lord of Chaos, after all, not ORDER. Who wants to know what the future holds?”

Big Mac turns back to Lemon. If he breathes through his mouth it ain’t as bad. “Maybe ya might want to start at the beginnin’.”

“When we were at the Pie’s,” Lemon explains with a certain urgency she inherited from her dam, “we learned about Harmony, and how she wants us to be honest, and generous, and loyal, and kind, and to laugh, and to be Friends. More importantly, we should be that way with anypony: young or old, near or far, mean or nice. But that can be hard, impossible even, and too many ponies fall short of what they could be. They don’t accept you with your flaws and quirks. They decide it isn’t worth pursuing any more, or not pursuing in the first place because it might not work. However, what if it doesn’t have to be that way?”

She pauses, waiting for a response she doesn’t get, and gamely continues, “Big Mac, you’re strong and stoic, the best uncle a filly could hope for. You’re honest, hardworking, and if anypony deserves a special somepony it’s you.”

Big Mac feels his heart swell at the compliments, but did it have to go like this?

“But you aren’t looking for somepony flashy, splashy, or obsessed with jelly. You want ponies who will stand by you, with you, on the farm. You want somepony you grow to know and to love, quirks and all. And if you could have somepony who will do the same with you, to have a love as perfect as can be, with no chance of messing up, wouldn’t you take it?”

Big Mac has to admit, that would be an alluring idea, as alluring as the yellow tail flipping back and forth. “How?”

Lemon glances at Discord. “Meringue read in one of Twilight’s books about how Hearts and Hooves day got started with a love poison.”

A chalkboard pops up behind Discord, now back in his lab coat and a spiky blue manecut, on which he draws two ponies smiling at each other with little animated hearts floating around behind them. “Love poison,” he emphasizes, “works by rerouting the joy and fulfillment a pony gets from their cutie mark to simply… oh, let’s say, staring into each other’s eyes.” He flutters his eyelashes, which have grown comically long, and puckers up for a big kiss.

Big Mac frowns. He vaguely remembers the story, having never cared much for the holiday. Or things that don’t help him plow a field. “Didn’t that story end with the kingdom in ruin?”

“Yes,” Lemon concedes immediately, “which is why we aren’t using a love poison, but a love potion. We went to Discord for help.”

“I had to break it to them,” Discord grumpily says with a sour smelling belch, “that what ponies call love is just a chemical reaction that compels them to breed. It hits hard, then it slowly fades, leaving them trapped in a failing herd. Just like the ‘joy’ you get from fulfilling your mark can be turned on and off like a switch.”

This sounds… this sounds heretical. How could Harmony be corrupted like this? Her plan rerouted like a stream?

Yet… yet ponies do reroute streams, to irrigate their crops; they divert rivers with dams, they change the weather, they use their Harmony-given tools to shift the very sun and moon. Would it be wrong to do the same with their cutie marks? Starlight Glimmer didn’t think so, and Celestia practically endorsed her - or at least the E. E. A. did. Although the Crusaders are spending their time there, helping those ponies who thought their destinies lay apart from their cutie marks. So what does he know? Or anypony else, for that matter?

Against his better judgment, Big Mac asks, “Ee-what?”

“Those mares out there?” Discord motions, too broad to acknowledge only the five mares that have shown interest. He grins a grin that’s far too chummy, like a shark slowly circling the water. “I can make their interest go away.”

He snaps with his leonine hand, too staccato a tap for the four padded claws.

Lemon sags to the ground, body stilled, a hoof holding her head, her sappy smile completely gone.

“Or?” Discord holds up his eagle hand, ready to snap. “I can make your resistance crumble, and you would be the perfect stallion to those mares for the rest of your long life.”

Big Mac shudders. He knows messing with minds is possible; hay, when Twilight enchanted Smarty Pants to teach the Crusaders a lesson, he was in the lead before Doug spirited the doll away and things went back to normal. But to so blatantly state it? And for a pony to voluntarily desire that? What kind of weak-willed wuss would want that? Not that his resolve is perfect or anything, but isn’t that the point of life? To get better at living as Harmony wills? A shortcut like this, forcing somepony to act Harmonically, even taken with the best of intentions…

“Celestia’s desiccated teats,” Lemon spits out, “that’s what feeling in love is like?” Her tongue hangs out as she pants, then a quick shake of her yellow mane sets her right. “But love is more than just that, that feeling,” she claims, Discord rolling his eyes as he crosses his arms. “It’s about sacrifice, about doing things for the betterment of the other. It’s about caring for the other pony even when you don’t feel attracted to them. That’s what we would do with a love potion: make it impossible to act in a manner you know would be detrimental to those pledged.”

Big Mac’s eyes narrow. “If ya’d force-”

“-No force,” Lemon interrupts. “No compulsion beforehoof, no requirement to be unaware. Completely voluntary.”

“Then those mares out there?” Big Mac points to the closed door. “What they were feelin’... what Ah was feelin’...”

“There may have been a slight nudge in that direction,” Discord admits. Lemon’s attractive scent remains, though he finds it easier to ignore. “But only with mares amenable to herding with you and not already engaged.”

Big Mac pointedly asks Lemon, “Then why were you affected?”

“Because I believe in this,” Lemon immediately answers. She still looks the part, eager and hopeful, but without the threat of breaking down if he so much as backs away. “Why would I agree to it, if I didn’t think it was best?”

Big Mac frowns, his objections stymied at every turn. Yet something still doesn’t feel right about this. “This love potion,” he asks, hesitant. Discord grins as he gives a slight nod. “How’s it work?”

“Essentially,” Discord explains, sullenly spelling it out, “the joy you get from fulfilling your mark would also come from when they fulfill their marks. Among other things, it keeps you from lying, straying, and from being discontent with your lot in life. It would automatically include any additions to the herd, on your side; they would make their own decision when the time came.”

“Keeps you?” Big Mac asks, unable to keep from shuddering. He struggles to put into words the objection he has, why he would reject such a tempting offer. Sure, he worries about straying, he doubts his willpower. But removing the possibility of the other mares being tempted away, of looking for better, more suitable prospects? He saw how Rarity struggled with Sweetie Belle; even Rainbow Dash, Element of Loyalty, obviously had her doubts and fears. Yet both ultimately decided to have a second foal with the human. What a display of commitment, of trust and love! With a unicorn and a pegasus interested in joining, he would face the same struggles. Yet using this love potion would eliminate the possibility of a similar display, of a similar bond developing between them. Is it generosity if it is forced? Is it really loyalty if it comes at the point of a horn, or antler?

“It ain’t right,” Big Mac finally says, but his conviction wavers. Is it not right? Would Harmony rather have a pony who occasionally screws up, but wants to do the right thing, or somepony who has no choice but to follow her?

“Do you want Harmony to guide you as you would a plow?” Lemon asks. “Or would you choose your own path?”

Big Mac doesn’t like the idea of being a plow, but if Harmony’s hoof is at the tiller…

“Oh?” Discord says, cocking his head. He seems to peer directly into Big Mac’s mind, perceiving his doubts and fears. “Afraid of being Harmony’s little wind-up toy?” He seems oddly pleased at this, like he wants Big Mac to reject the offer.

Big Mac isn’t sure how to take that; shouldn’t he want to please Harmony, not Discord? Unless the draconequus knows he would doubt his intentions… ugh, no, he can’t trust Discord’s reaction one way or the other. He has to choose based on what he thinks.

“What’s wrong?” Lemon asks, also sensing his trepidation. “You want to keep your ability to miss the mark? To stray, to err, to mess up?”

When she puts it like that… Is it her cutie mark giving her intuition about how he’s feeling, or is he just that much of a ripe orchard?

“Or…” Lemon pauses, rubbing at her chin in a considering manner entirely too reminiscent of her sire. “You want to go through the process of getting to know somepony. Flaws and strengths, quirks and all. You want to do this to forge that bond, a tree spreading its roots deep underground and making it impervious to the storms and droughts of life.” She steps forward, slowly, cautiously, and takes his hoof in hers. “I want that, too. I want it with you.”

“Welcome to your lucky day,” Discord intones, low and foreboding. He holds out a tray with six glasses of swirling purple. Lemon takes one, ready to drink as soon as he does.

Big Mac can’t decide. Which is more important? Doing the right thing, taking the path that promotes harmony? Or is the act of choosing the right thing important, the thought behind the action, even though you sometimes fail? Would they even be equines without that?

What would Harmony want?

Should Big Mac take the offer? Assume it is a genuine offer, and works as intended.