The moon hung high in the cloudless sky like a radiant celestial body of cheese, full and bright as it illuminated the countryside, moonlight piling up against the side of a mountain in the middle of a certain land in a certain country, shining down on a certain garden in a certain castle.

Shining down on a certain god as they meandered through the tranquil garden, not a guard in sight. Which wasn’t to say they weren’t following behind carefully, flitting from statue to statue, the slightest rustle of wings betraying their movement.

The god sighed, and almost mechanically swerved to the left, deviating greatly from the path and aiming for the Royal Hedge Maze. The unseen guard hesitated, and eventually followed, dropping to ground level to avoid the flight restriction spell on the “roof” of the maze, and hovering between intersections as they followed their ruler and deity.

And fell right into the trap. With no apparent effort, the god seemed to walk faster, just happening to meander around corners just a little too fast for a guard to catch which fork they’d taken. Within minutes, the guard were themselves confused, and since none of them had been paying attention to how they’d gotten where they’d gotten, they were, to a one, lost.

Not like their ruler, who meandered out of the exit as if bored, absent-mindedly tapping a hoof on the ground and causing the hedges to seal the gap seamlessly. They wouldn’t be stuck in there all night, of course. A way would be revealed eventually by the semi-sentient labyrinth, but until it did reveal... well. Even gods needed some “me” time.

And today, that “me” time was going to take place at a small fountain in the middle of the statue garden, moonlight reflecting off frigid water and the white marble of the statue next to it. There were a great many statues throughout the garden, each one just as fine and immaculately detailed, all but alive for the fact that they were made of stone.

But this one was special. A little... larger than life, some would say.

The ruler of the land sat on the edge of the fountain, next to the statue, and leaned sideways, reclining on the cold marble, finding that ever-so-slightly worn niche in the stone that came about when a god took to resting on a certain place on a regular basis.

“How was your day?” An old question. Rethorical. It was practically a substitute for hello between the two, even when they’d both been flesh and blood.

“Mine was awful.” An answer to an unspoken question. “A god’s work truly never is done. Not really. And the citizenry are... unruly.” There was a sigh, barely godly at all, the sigh losing god-points for being almost petulant, as if it were coming from some sort of mortal that wouldn’t live to see the century roll over.

“I know,” the god groaned. “I probably do deserve it, in all honesty. I’ve not made the best choices. I’m sure you’d be the first to agree. Baltimare certainly does, they’re still rioting.”

The trickle of water filled the air, punctuated by a rustle as another layer of stone was once more abraded by the rolling-over of a god.

“You know, it’s so funny.” The mirthless voice echoed off the curtains of water falling down, echoing out into the space around the fountain and vanishing. “We could have been so good together. You and me. Top of the world. Nothing could stop us, we were a team.” A head bowed, and horn touched water, sending ripples throughout the water, further distorting the godly visage reflected in it. “Friends, right? I guess I ruined that.” The statue didn’t respond, staring into space as if pointedly not looking someone in the eye.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you held a grudge,” the god said. “But to be fair, the fault was not all mine. You started this. You and your precious little...” The god rolled over again, staring up into the sky. Moon aside, it was dotted with little pinpoints of light, glittering in the velvet canvas that was what lay beyond this world. Who could fathom what lay out there, betwixt the stars, hidden in darkness and shadow, eclipsed by bright light?

“How could we be so close, and so far apart?” The question hung in the air. “You favored chaos, a natural order, a bit of everything in life, and that we should have no say. I thought that control, calculated order was best. That I was right to choose what everyone got.” The god exhaled. “I think this is irony, because for all the blood we shed, for all the things we said and inflicted on each other... neither of us was right.”

The god reached up, and the light of the moon began to swirl, the light chasing the darkness around the surface of the satellite in an eternal game of catch.

“Life can’t exist without a bit of both,” murmured the god. “Too much chaos, and you snuff it out with the winds of change. Too much order, and you suffocate it, starving it of growth. Just like fire. Very much like yourself, honestly.”

The god rolled over, and sat up. “Sometimes, I wonder whether you’d be doing any better than I at this. Would Equestria respond better to your touch than mine? If our positions were changed, what would change?” The god stared into the distance, eyeballing a shrubbery. “Would I listen to you? I don’t know.”

Before them, the shrubbery began to visibly grow, swelling in size and volume, feeding off the attention of a god.

“The one thing I cannot grow for myself...” the god murmured. “A friend. Subjects, yes. Allies, they come and go. Consorts... fleeting. A friend, though... a true friend lasts forever. A very long time.” Another sigh. “I wish I’d thought of that sooner, before I started burning bridges and turning friends to stone. It was just an argument. We could have talked it out.”

The fountain slowed to a trickle, and eventually stopped flowing, water going still in the three tiers of basins, last ripples bouncing about from stubborn droplets falling to their fate.

“You’re right, early days yet.” There was a determined stamp of hoof on stone, and the god rose, stretching languidly, clicking an eternal neck, and snapping an ageless spine, shaking out a leg for good measure. A tail flick, and the stretch was complete. Almost as good as sleeping. “It’s barely been a century or two. I can still make a friend, not like I’m running short on time, eh?” A wink, infused with renewed vigor. “Priorities, though. Get the people calm, then the friends will follow.”

The god got one last click out of two stubborn vertebrae, and patted the statue on the shoulder, the touch lingering as a fantasy of undoing the spell played out. A fantasy where an old friend was freed from stone, and didn’t harbor any sort of grudge about being turned to stone in the first place...

A fantasy. The touch faded, and the god sloped off, knowing better.

“Perhaps, for now, all I need is someone to listen.” The godly musing didn’t travel far. Barely to the ears of the statue. Far enough.

“Thanks, Celestia,” Discord murmured, adjusting his crown and snapping a lion’s paw. The moon winked out and dipped below the horizon, the sun rising to take it’s place with quicksilver speed.

The god of chaos flapped his mismatched wings, and as the hedge maze unsealed itself, took off into the dawn sky, back to his castle. The marble alicorn watched him go, as she always did, without much choice in the matter, sun warming her stone skin as she settled back down, to lapse back into a trance.

Discord, for his part, landed on a balcony, and walked through a closed window like it was made of water, to enter the throne room and sit on his mahogany throne with it’s purple plush, preparing to face the new day and all the challenges of leadership it would bring.

His rule had come at the cost of a friend. Best to spend it wisely.