~~*The Goddess*~~

The audience chamber was vast, fading into the distance with no walls in sight. Crystalline columns, carved with arcane runes, pulsed with a dim blue-white light as they stretched upwards before vanishing into pitch-black darkness. The floor of the chamber was a smooth red stone, speckled with black. In the center of the chamber, on a dais of silver and gold, the Goddess reclined upon an obsidian throne so dark that it seemed to absorb the light.

The throne wasn’t real in the physical sense, any more than the impossible audience chamber itself could have been. The Goddess had created it in the Realm of Dreams, forging the chamber and its accoutrements through sheer force of will.

She had created the chamber in response to a brief synchronization between the Veil of her world and Equus, the world of the ponies. The smallest of portals was all that was needed to allow the Infiltrator to appear and offer its report, and the Goddess found it pleasant to receive the report in a suitable environment.

The form the Infiltrator took superficially resembled the changeling that hosted its mind, though with green scales in place of chitin and a stripe of blue scales that ran down its back from muzzle-tip to dock. The Goddess pursed her lips at the sight of it. Apparently, some remembrance of its previous form had managed to survive after all this time.

“Speak, Infiltrator,” the Goddess intoned.

“The Child of Chaos is no longer in the garden.”

Veins of sullen red shot through the Goddess’ throne, pulsing with a magma-like glow, a reflection of the Goddess’ reaction at the news. Anger, and the frustration of hopes once again dashed.

Thus, I am once again reminded of the futility of planning, the Goddess thought as she struggled to keep her temper in check.

At the beginning of her incarceration, the Goddess had formed many plans. The barrier that imprisoned her had been formed in a rush, amidst the chaos of war. And so, she had reasoned at the time, it must have a weakness that could be exploited.

The most obvious vector of attack had been her control over her world’s Veil. But, no matter how she tried, she still couldn’t extend her magic through a portal she herself had created. Not to mention that each time she tried had caused the Caretaker to wake from his magically-induced suspension.

It was the barrier’s sheer simplicity that had defeated her in the end. Her power was absorbed by the smaller twin moons that circled her world and used to create the very barrier that prevented her influence from reaching the world below, the planet named Paradise by its former inhabitants. The barrier radiated some of that magic down over the world, but it was magic thoroughly stripped of her influence.

And, so, the Goddess had abandoned planning, opting instead to arrange matters as advantageously as she could. Her power over Paradise’s Veil allowed her miniscule influence over other worlds, nudging certain worlds closer to her own if she thought they could be of use to her.

When the humans of Earth had first created an artificial portal, that had been the first rekindling of hope in the Goddess’ heart in many thousands of years. When the humans had first reached Equus, with its diverse and powerful magics, the Goddess had once again begun to make plans.

And now the Child of Chaos had gone missing.

As the Goddess regained her composure, she noted that the Infiltrator was waiting patiently. She lifted one thin-fingered hand and gestured towards it. “Explain,” she said.

“The one called Discord was freed from stone. Apparently, one of the Equestrian princesses had a vision.”

A vision? Interesting… Future sight had been very nearly non-existent amongst her people. Only the Goddess and a small number of the priesthood were capable of such a feat, at least on her own world.

“A vision of what sort?” she asked.

“I was unable to ascertain that,” the Infiltrator replied. “The palace staff has only baseless speculation. However, I do know where Discord is. He is constrained to a small town called ‘Ponyville’.”

“Constrained? How so?”

“Powerful wards of Order magic keep him trapped there.”

“Can you break these wards?” the Goddess asked. “Can you free Discord?”

The Infiltrator hesitated before replying. “Possibly,” it said eventually. “It would take a considerable amount of time. The wards are very strong, and very complex.”

“Hmm… Show me.”

Memory flooded from the Infiltrator, springing fully-formed into the Goddess’ consciousness. She examined the wards in minute detail, impressed at both their complexity and their self-reinforcing nature. They were obviously the work of at least one very skilled and powerful spellcrafter.

Which made the single large, obvious flaw in the ward so puzzling at first. It had to be deliberate, especially when considering the reinforcements around the flaw itself. As she studied the flaw, it became clear that the purpose was to allow Discord to escape confinement, but only upon the completion of a very specific ritual. The ritual would work like a key in a lock, immediately summoning the Child of Chaos to the very spot where the ritual was cast.

“Clever,” the Goddess murmured. “Very clever.” She looked down upon the patiently-waiting Infiltrator. “There is an intentional flaw in the wards, used as a means of summoning Discord. We can use that ritual to bring him where we need him when the time comes.”

“I am not familiar with the ritual,” the Infiltrator replied. “Should I attempt to learn it?”

“No. Any attempt to do so may compromise your cover. You must remain disguised and in the palace whenever you are not aiding the changeling queen. I can work out the general shape of the ritual by examining the flaw itself. There are only so many ways to shape the magic that will unlock this ward.”

“Very well. Shall I wait here until the spell is completed?”

“No. The gateway will be closing soon. I shall contact you again once I have the summoning spell ready. In the meanwhile, this place where Discord is trapped… Ponyville? I seem to recall that this location had some importance.”

The Infiltrator nodded. “Those bearing the artifacts called the Elements of Harmony reside there.”

“Harmony. Yes, I do recall them.” The Goddess considered her options carefully while the Infiltrator waited silently at the foot of the throne. “It could be that these ‘Elements’ may make for a good fallback plan, should both Discord and Chrysalis fail.” She frowned, then. “How is the so-called queen progressing in her plans?”

“She is on pace,” the Infiltrator replied. “Nearly all of the Arcanum has been compromised by this point, and her changeling army is moving into key positions. So far, the ponies are none the wiser.”

“Very good.” Plans within plans within plans, though the necessity of this particular one was something that she found herself regretting. The ponies had no business being caught up in her war. But worse was still to come. “Let her know that ‘the Caretaker’ wishes for her to keep those six alive and unharmed. Tell her that he has a use for them, and will be able to transfer their powers to her. She may separate the bearers from their Elements if she considers them dangerous, but she is to keep both the ponies and their Elements safe and unharmed.”

“Yes, my Goddess,” the Infiltrator replied with a bow.

The report continued on for a short while, and the Goddess issued a few more instructions. After a while, the Infiltrator departed to carry out the next leg of its mission. Once again alone in the space she had created, the Goddess allowed herself time to revel in the freedom that she could only find in dreams. She stood from her throne, stretching her four thin arms towards the boundless sky, enjoying the nearly-forgotten feeling of stretching muscles and shifting scale. She called up a breeze and felt the air moving through the crest of feathery scales that ran from the crown of her head to the tip of her tufted tail.

Even in dreams, however, time still passed. She had plans to oversee and preparations to make. With a regretful sigh, the Goddess allowed the dream to fade back into the aether, returning once again to her captivity.

~~*Erin*~~

There was a tense moment of anticipation in the darkened theater, a tension which Erin shared—albeit for a different reason than the rest of the audience. She had her hands up over her eyes, having no desire to see what she knew was going to happen next. There was a crashing sound as the pony on the screen let out a distressed cry, followed shortly after by the glug, glug, glug sound of paint pouring out of an upturned can.

The audience started laughing uproariously, of course.

“I say, the picture quality is quite impressive, darling,” Rarity said from the seat next to her.

“Yeah,” Erin replied sourly. She glared up at the screen and the image of her first pony form, which was hunched up on the ground while paint dripped down across her coat.

“I expect this movie equipment must have set you back a fair amount of money,” Rarity continued. She held out a paper bag in her glowing blue aura. “Popcorn?”

“No thanks,” Erin muttered.

“Still, all of this is a very generous gift. And believe me, I know something about generosity.” Rarity took a dainty sip of her small diet soda. “One wonders what you were expecting in return.”

Erin frowned and glanced at her out of the corner of her eye. “Nothing, it was a gift.”

Rarity arched an eyebrow back at her. “You truly want nothing in exchange?”

“No, of course not…” Erin began, then broke off with a groan as she saw what the screen was showing now. “Oh, not the jump. Really?”

The image on the screen had shifted, this time showing a thirteen-year-old version of herself on her black and yellow BMX bike. Little Erin was wearing cargo shorts and a Minnesota Vikings jersey as she braced herself on the top of a hill, looking down the slope towards a dirt ramp.

“I can’t believe I was dumb enough to not wear a helmet.” Erin frowned. “You know, I could have sworn that ramp was a lot higher.”

“Well, memory can often exaggerate, dear,” Rarity replied. She straightened in her seat. “Oh, there you go!”

Just as Erin remembered, her younger self put on a lot of speed. And, also as Erin remembered, her takeoff was a grand thing, launching her teenage self high up into the air. The landing, however…

“Ooof! Oooohh….” the screen version of Erin groaned. The theater audience groaned in sympathy.

“Oh, my. That looked painful.”

“It’s not my fault! Nobody told me I was supposed to be standing when I landed.” Erin scowled over her shoulder as the audience behind her began chuckling. “I was walking funny for days. You’d think they’d be a little more sympathetic.”

“Comedy equals tragedy plus time, and this was quite a while ago, yes?”

“I suppose…”

There was a moment of silence between the two of them as the little Erin on the movie screen gingerly got off of her bike and began limping her way home.

“Have I ever mentioned the importance of trust?”

Erin gave Rarity a confused look. “No? I don’t think so.”

“Well, it’s very important. Don’t you agree?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Erin frowned at the unicorn, who was too busy eating popcorn while staring at the screen to notice. “What’s this about?”

“Oh, nothing much,” Rarity replied casually, smiling over at her. “Only the fact that you don’t trust us very much.”

Erin’s mind went momentarily blank, uncertain of what she’d heard. When it finally registered, she blurted out, “I trust you guys!”

Rarity glanced over at her, arching that eyebrow at her again. “Do you?”

“Well, yeah? Why wouldn’t I?”

“No idea.” The unicorn sighed and placed the popcorn into the empty seat next to her. “Well, I’m afraid we’re out of time for now. It’s time for you to be waking up.”

“‘What? ‘Waking up’?”

“We’ll talk again soon, darling,” Rarity promised as the dream fragmented around them. The audience was already gone, and the screen was blank as the theater itself faded into darkness.

“Rarity, wait!”

Erin woke up with a pained groan, blinking her sandy eyes as she looked around, momentarily wondering why she’d fallen asleep in front of her computer monitor. An orchestra of aches and pains began to hit her, playing an ode to the many various reasons why it’s a bad idea to fall asleep while sitting up at your desk.

Memory from the previous day hit her like a freight train, and her discomfort was forgotten as her head whipped around to her screen. The probe’s data feed was black, which caused a moment of panic until Erin noticed the angry red “0%” for the probe’s power display.

I guess running it all night with the night-vision on isn’t the best idea, she mused.

Still, that didn’t answer her worries about how Fluttershy was doing. Erin grabbed her saddlebags, still packed from the night before, and slung them over her back. She was out the door a minute later, galloping down the road in the early-morning sunlight.

~~*~~

By the time Erin neared Fluttershy’s cottage, most of the kinks had worked themselves out of her muscles and joints. She shot a grin at a nearby cloud standing oddly alone in the sky. It was unremarkable except for the wisp of prismatic tail hanging over the edge. It looked like Rainbow Dash had kept up with her own vigil—though judging by the loud snores ripping across the countryside, she hadn’t been able to stay awake all night either.

Then she saw the cottage, much sooner than she should have, and galloped the rest of the way, stopping by where the cottage’s front door should have been. Instead, the cottage was suspended in midair while rotating lazily, the roof now pointed towards the ground.

“Fluttershy!” she yelled.

“Oh, good morning, Erin,” Fluttershy’s tired voice said from behind her.

Erin turned to see her friend lying on the ground next to a bush. Pinkie Pie was lying next to her, and between them was an open box half-full of muffins.

“Hiya, Sunflower!” Pinkie picked up the box and twirled it on one hoof in a display of dexterity that made Erin a little bit jealous. “Muffin?”

Erin was about to turn her down when her stomach rumbled and restored her to sanity. “Sure, thanks,” she said as she took one. “Fluttershy, are you okay? You look kinda ragged.”

The pegasus, ordinarily well-groomed, was sagging everywhere. Her coat was matted and dull, her eyes puffy and bloodshot, and her mane was a mess of tangles.

“I didn’t get much sleep last night,” Fluttershy confessed. “Mostly, we sat up and talked all night. He’s really a very interesting person!” She frowned, adding, “Though, I think some of the stories he told me weren’t completely true. I’m pretty sure jellyfish don’t grow that large.”

Crisis momentarily over but with hunger still unabated, Erin took a bite of her muffin. It turned out to be blueberry, and still slightly warm from the oven. There was a moment of shocking early-morning violence as she devoured the whole thing, only narrowly avoiding eating the paper wrapper along with it.

“Well, you look exhausted,” Erin said once she was done chewing. “Can you get him to put your house back so you can get some sleep?”

Fluttershy sighed. “I would, but he vanished about an hour ago. I have no idea where he is.”

“Well, that isn’t at all worrying,” Erin replied with a shudder.

“He hasn’t gone far,” Pinkie said confidently. “Twilight said we’d know if he tried to leave town.” She hummed and tapped her chin. “Something about the wards setting off alarms, or something?”

That wasn’t much comfort, as far as Erin was concerned. Still, nothing in town was on fire as far as she could tell, so maybe the spirit of chaos was behaving himself?

And maybe the Equestrian moon was actually made of cheese. Erin decided to ask Luna the next time she saw her.

There wasn’t much she could do about Discord and whatever shenanigans he was up to, Erin decided. But Fluttershy was a different matter. “Well, you can always sleep in my house.”

“Oh, but I don’t want to be a bother…”

“You’re not going to be a bother, Fluttershy. I’ll be at Applejack’s this morning, and I’ve got my wing therapy this afternoon, so the place will be empty for a while.”

Granted, she’d want to take a shower before she went to the hospital, but she was pretty sure Applejack wouldn’t mind letting her use the one at the farm.

“Oh, thank you, but I can’t leave Angel Bunny behind.”

Fluttershy gestured at the bush next to her. Erin spotted the rabbit hunched amidst the branches and glaring out at the world with such an intensity that Erin was mildly surprised that the leaves hadn’t caught on fire. The little white rabbit turned his glare her way.

“Good morning, Angel-rah,” Erin said solemnly, following it up with a salute. “You’re welcome to stay in my house as well.”

If she hadn’t known better, she’d have sworn that the rabbit had given her a suspicious look before finally relaxing a little and nodding.

“Oh, well… if you’re sure... I don’t want to be any trouble.”

Erin shook her head. “It’s no trouble at all, Fluttershy. You can even use my shower. I won’t mind, and you’ll feel a lot better.”

“O-okay, well… thank you.” Fluttershy started getting to her hooves, with Pinkie helping her up. “I’ll head over now, if that’s okay.” Another yawn put the conversation on pause for a moment. “I really am quite tired.”

“I’ll walk with you,” Pinkie offered, putting her shoulder against the gently-swaying Fluttershy. Erin noticed for the first time that Pinkie’s stuffed rabbit, Mister Hugglebunny, was perched on her back, held in place by a small saddle-like device. “I’ll come back after the morning rush to check on your house.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that!” came the inevitable protest.

“It’s okay, I want to,” Pinkie said. “Come on, now, let’s get you over to Sunflower’s place, and Auntie Pinkie will tuck you into bed all nice and snuggly-wuggly.”

Pinkie didn’t notice the exasperated frown Fluttershy shot her way. “You know I’m a year older than you, right?”

Pinkie giggled. A moment later, Angel Bunny stepped out of the bush he’d been hiding in, gave Erin a courteous nod, and hopped after the pair.

“Strange rabbit,” she muttered before shaking herself. She stepped off the path, opting to take a direct line through the fields towards Sweet Apple Acres instead of taking the road.

~~*Rainbow Dash*~~

The sun shouldered its way steadily upward into the early morning sky—not always a sure thing in Equestria—and released a beam of glowing golden light. This light sped past lakes and valleys, through forests and towns, avoiding many obstacles only to strike Rainbow Dash directly in the face. The pegasus let out an annoyed grunt and rolled over, instinctively reshaping the cloud behind her in order to block out the offending light. She was just on the verge of falling back asleep when a stray thought started poking around in her still-drowsy brain.

She was apparently sleeping on a cloud which, in itself, wasn’t all that weird. What was weird was that she could hear the birds singing and smell the dew on the grass, which meant that it was early in the morning. It also meant that she was outside. Her fuzzy brain examined these two facts independently, scrutinizing them and moving them around like jigsaw puzzle pieces for a minute or so before it clicked.

For some reason, she’d spent the night sleeping outside on a cloud, rather than in her bed at home. That realization also sparked a few other thoughts, which rushed at her with all the grace and subtlety of an avalanche.

Rainbow’s eyelids snapped open just in time to catch another of the sun’s golden rays square in the eyes. She flinched back with a pained hiss even as a hind hoof lashed out, dispelling the cloud and dropping her earthward. Well-muscled wings snapped open, catching the air enough to turn her fall into a directed dive, meaning that Rainbow made the short flight to Fluttershy’s house in the blink of an eye.

Or, rather, where Fluttershy’s house should have been. Now the whole cottage was hanging sideways in the air, with the whole thing revolving slowly in a clockwise direction.

“Fluttershy!” Rainbow yelled, rushing up to the currently horizontal door of the cottage and pounding it with a hoof.

There was no answer, so Dash zipped inside an open window. “Fluttershy!” she called again.

There was no sign of her friend. All of her furniture had tumbled to the lowest point of the house, skittering and rolling along the wall to the floor as the cottage slowly revolved upright again.

“That jerk!” Rainbow snarled. There was a certain draconequus that Dash was going to give a piece of her mind to. But first, there was something a lot more important to take care of. “Fluttershy!”

It was easy enough for Dash to avoid the falling furniture and personal effects, though the constantly-changing orientation of the cottage made it a little hard to keep her perspective. She flitted her way to Fluttershy’s bedroom, hoping to find some sign of her friend.

The sound of running water brought her up short, coming from the home’s small bathroom.

“Is she taking a shower?” Dash muttered, incredulous. “Wait… how is the plumbing working?”

There was no answer when Rainbow knocked on the bathroom door, so she let herself in. Typically, it was considered rude to barge in on another pony in the shower, but these weren’t typical times.

There was definitely a shadowy shape behind the shower curtain. A high-pitched voice was humming away, some directionless little tune echoing off the walls.

“Hey, Fluttershy. You okay?” Dash asked. When the figure behind the curtain didn’t reply, she got closer. “Fluttershy?”

Still no response.

Her heart began pounding in her chest like she’d just flown a race against the Wonderbolts, adding to the fear she’d felt since she’d first seen Fluttershy’s cottage rotating in midair, and she knew it wouldn’t settle down until she saw that her friend was okay. Muttering a quiet apology under her breath, Dash reached out and yanked the curtain back with a forehoof.

“Eeek!” Discord shrieked, cringing up against the wall and holding a scrub brush defensively across his chest.

“Gaaah!” Dash shouted in reply, startled half out of her skin by the sight of the sudsed-up spirit of chaos.

The two of them stared at each other for a moment, Discord with the scrub brush in one hand and a yellow rubber duckie in the other and Dash feeling like her heart was trying to break out of her chest.

Discord glowered at her from underneath a ridiculous flower-printed shower cap. “I swear, can’t even take a shower in peace!” he complained.

Dash gaped at him. Her eyes flicked up to the shower cap, and for a brief moment she wondered where he was keeping his horns. “Where’s Fluttershy!” she shouted, flitting up until their muzzles were almost touching.

“You ever hear of personal space, Dashie-poo?”

“I’ll knock you into space if you don’t tell me where she is!”

Discord groaned. “I expect better comebacks from you, Rainbow Dash.”

It had been kind of lame. Not like Dash would ever admit that. “I don’t care! Where is she? If you’ve hurt her, I swear—”

Discord’s eyes took on an unfocused look for a moment. “It seems she’s catching some Z’s over at your mutual friend’s house. You know, the shape-shifting pony-like-thing?”

Dash blinked. “Erin?” she guessed.

“Oh, was that her name?” Discord started scrubbing his back with the rubber duck. He squeezed the scrub brush, which let out a mournful squeak. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Gee, I wonder why she had to go sleep over there?” Dash scowled at him when he opened his mouth. “Don’t answer that, it was a rhetorical question.”

“You know a word with four syllables?” Discord grinned while scrubbing between the toes of his dragon leg. “I’m impressed, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Shut up,” Rainbow replied. “I’m going to go check on her, and if she’s not there, I’m coming back for you.”

“A dire threat, indeed,” Discord sneered in reply. He’d shut the shower off and was now drying himself with a large, fluffy pink towel that he’d produced from somewhere.

“While I’m doing that, you can put her house back down where it belongs.”

Discord grinned and flung the towel away. “Oh, I would, but I’m afraid I was just about to go out.” He snapped his talons, and light flared. When it cleared, the draconequus was gone.

Rainbow Dash snarled out a curse and flung herself out the nearest window.

Ordinarily, she would try to keep her speed down while in town. The last time she’d really cut loose, the mayor had some choice words for her. Words which included things like “irresponsible” and “dangerous” and, most worryingly, “punitive fines” and “flight restrictions.”

She couldn’t worry about that right now. Her wings blurred as she pushed herself as fast as she could through town, the wash of her passing rattling windows in their frames and knocking loose thatch from nearby roofs. She arrived at Erin’s house less than a minute later, flying directly to the upstairs window and peering in.

Much to her relief, she immediately spotted the Fluttershy-shaped lump in Erin’s bed. The tight band of tension around Rainbow’s chest started to loosen as she took in the pink mane and yellow forehooves resting on top of Erin’s big, fluffy comforter. Fluttershy had a look of perfect, serene rest on her face as she slept, her ear twitching slightly in whatever dream it was she was having.

A small white shape was curled up at the bottom of the bed. Angel Bunny raised his head and glared up at Dash as if daring her to do something as monumentally stupid as waking the sleeping mare up.

Rainbow heaved out a sigh of relief. Fluttershy was okay. For the moment, that was the most important thing in the world. She flew up to Erin’s roof and, finding a relatively comfy spot amidst the shining blue-black solar tiles, lay down to wait for her friend to wake up.

~~*Pinkie Pie*~~

The morning baking was finished, the breakfast rush was over, and the cleanup was done, which meant that Pinkie Pie now had the rest of the day off from the bakery. Her first stop was to deliver a fresh banana cream pie to Mrs. Lavender’s rooftop, like she did every morning. After that, Pinkie had spent an hour or so with the old widow herself, listening to her talk of the old days, all while surreptitiously tidying up her small house whenever the elderly mare wasn’t looking.

Mrs. Lavender tended to speak in a steady stream of disjointed stories, tales of ponies long since passed on or moved away, most of whom Pinkie had never met. It was a sad thing, in a way... but in a different way, it filled Pinkie’s heart with an oddly melancholy sort of joy. The ponies themselves might have been gone—some of them for longer than Pinkie had been alive—but they had left their stories behind in Mrs. Lavender’s failing memory. And now they lived on in Pinkie Pie’s memory, too, which meant that they had a strange sort of immortality.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was good enough for Pinkie Pie. And Mrs. Lavender really seemed to like these little visits.

After leaving the old mare’s house, her second stop of the morning was prompted partially out of an earlier promise, but mostly out of curiosity. Mainly, she wanted to see if Fluttershy’s house was still revolving.

So, off and away she bounced, out into the streets of Ponyville. Her happy pronk slowed and eventually stopped, with Pinkie looking around as the mood of the town settled over her like a heavy, damp blanket.

The atmosphere around town was nervous and subdued compared to the usual mid-morning activity she was used to. That was probably because of their newest neighbor being the self-titled spirit of chaos, she decided. It was something that was bound to put even the most level-headed ponies on edge. The townsponies were looking over their shoulders and flinching at every noise, scuttling around the market without the normal chit-chat that made life in Ponyville so much fun. The mood felt like a thunderstorm waiting to happen, hiding just out of sight behind some hills, and it made Pinkie’s coat twitch and itch like crazy.

Pinkie frowned at the sight of it. It seemed like she had some work to do.

At least the movie theater was doing good business, she noticed as she walked past it. Maybe it was because it offered an escape from worry, or maybe because human movies were so very different from pony films. The marquee currently displayed two lines: “The Best of Buster Keaton” for the matinee shows and “The Wizard of Oz” for the evening show. She hadn’t seen that many ponies lined up outside the movie theater since… well, since ever, now that she thought about it.

“You’ll like Buster Keaton,” she called out to the ponies waiting in line, causing more than a few to jump and turn around to look at her. “Especially the one about the house. It’s a real hoot!”

She grinned and waved, receiving a few smiles and waves in return, and continued on her way. That amount of cheering up wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

Soon enough, Fluttershy’s house came into view. Actually, it was sooner than normal, on account of it being waaaaay up in the air like that. On the ground, near where the front door should have been, was a pair of perfectly perplexed ponies. Pinkie Pie perked her ears forward and increased her trotting speed, careful not to upset Mister Hugglebunny, who was situated in his now-usual spot on her back.

“Fluttershy? Fluttershy, where are you?” Rarity was calling out, staring helplessly at the rotating house above her.

“Oh, this is bad,” Twilight fretted, dancing in place. “What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know!” Rarity cried out in response.

“I’m not sure I can teleport up there with it moving like that!”

“But what if poor Fluttershy is in danger?” Rarity replied, looking a little wild-eyed. “We have to get up there!”

“We need Dash.” Twilight was scanning the sky with quick flicks of her head. “Or, any pegasus, really!”

“Oh, poor Fluttershy,” Rarity whimpered. “What if Discord did something to her?”

“We never should have left her alone!” Twilight moaned.

“This is all our fault!” Rarity cried.

“Everything is bad and wrong and terrible forever!” Pinkie Pie wailed, causing the other two ponies to squeal and jump for some reason. “Oh, except Fluttershy. She’s fine, she’s just getting some sleep over at Sunflower’s house.”

Rarity and Twilight blinked, taking a moment to process that.

“Really?” Twilight asked eventually.

“Yuh-huh,” Pinkie replied, nodding like her head was on a spring. “We both stopped out earlier today to see her, and she was really worn out. I guess ‘Shy was up most of the night talking to him.” There was no need to say who ‘him’ was.

“Oh, the poor dear,” Rarity said, while Twilight shuddered.

“Eh, she can manage,” Pinkie replied, waving a hoof. “Give her a week, maybe two, and she’ll have mean old Discord wrapped around her hoof.”

Twilight chuckled at that. “I’d like to think so, Pinkie.”

Pinkie grinned, taking her own worry and doubt and shoving it deep, deep down inside, where nopony else could even get a peek at it. “Don’t worry so much. It’s all going to end in friendship and rainbows, you’ll see!”

~~*~~

Pinkie Pie had some very important work to do. So did the others, actually, though of course it wasn’t nearly as important as what Pinkie was up to.

Rarity, it turned out, desperately needed to work on some dress orders that she had been putting off. Twilight needed to check the anti-Discord wards around town. So the three friends went their separate ways after agreeing to meet up for dinner that night, to talk about how things were going with Discord in town.

Pinkie had her own mission, one that was of the utmost of importance to her as Ponyville’s Official-Unofficial-Cheerer-Upper-and-Premier-Party-Pony: she had to cheer up the ponies in town. And that meant that she had to pull out all the stops and assemble a party to end all parties, the biggest and bestest party she’d ever pulled off!

It was a high bar to reach, but Pinkie was already planning away. A list was forming in her head—well, three lists, to be technically accurate. The first list contained an inventory of all the party supplies she already had on-hoof, carefully stowed away in the basement under Sugarcube Corner. The second list was all of the supplies she’d need to buy, in order to make this the biggest blowout that Ponyville had ever seen.

The third list was a list of invitees. It was the easiest list, having only one entry, and that entry was “Everypony”. Pinkie considered that for a moment before mentally adding “except for Discord” at the end. She felt a momentary pang of guilt at that before shrugging it off. Discord being at the ‘name-of-party-still-pending’ party would make everypony nervous and scared, which would kinda be the opposite of what she was going for.

Besides, Discord wasn’t a pony, so did “Everypony” even apply to him? It was definitely food for thought—unlike cupcakes, which was food for parties. And occasionally breakfast. Plus, Zecora wasn’t a pony, and neither were Cranky and Matilda, but Pinkie definitely wanted them to come. So, now mental list number three had “Everypony except Discord” crossed out and replaced with “Everyone in or around Ponyville who wants to attend, except for Discord” but with the “except for Discord” part underlined three times in red ink.

The party was already assembling itself in her imagination, and it was a glorious thing. There was going to be music, and food, and games, and prizes, and dancing, and…

And there was no way she could pull this off by herself, Pinkie realized with a deflating sigh. Not if she wanted everything done before the end of the week. She’d need help.

“Mister Hugglebunny?” Pinkie asked.

There was a chime sound from the plush rabbit astride her back before Mister Hugglebunny’s mournful voice spoke out. “What is it, Pinkie Pie?”

“Please set a reminder: Ask the girls for help regarding super-party, one hour from now.”

There was a momentary pause before Mister Hugglebunny spoke again. “Okay. Reminder set: ‘Ask the girls for help regarding super-party’ set for 12:17 PM. Would you like the reminder to repeat until completed?”

Oooh, that was a good idea. Pinkie nodded, then remembered that Mister Hugglebunny didn’t really get gestures like that. “Yes, please! Every hour until I ask you to stop.”

There was another chime sound. “Reminder set, Pinkie Pie.”

Pinkie was just about to thank him when a familiar and, as Rarity would say, most unwelcome voice spoke from above her.

“Oh, my! A party?” Discord came down from the sky as if he were swimming through the air, a pair of water-wings on his arms and a swimming cap on his head.

Where are his horns? Pinkie wondered briefly before taking that thought and shoving it into an imaginary box labeled “Stuff that doesn’t matter right now.”

“Oh, my goodness. Could this be it?” Discord asked as he touched down on the dirt road in front of her. He placed his paw and talon on either side of his face, his eyes literally sparkling. “Is this my long-delayed ‘Welcome to Ponyville’ party?” He frowned, then, ears drooping and his bottom lip wobbling. “You throw one for everyone else who shows up in town, but you never did for me…”

Guilt that Pinkie knew she shouldn’t be feeling welled up. She balled it up and shoved it into the same imaginary box, where it could keep company with the speculation about his currently-missing horns.

“Well, I figured you threw yourself your own party,” Pinkie quipped, slipping on a #64 smile: ‘blatantly fake and not caring if he noticed’. “You know, the whole turning Ponyville into the ‘Chaos capital of Equestria’ thing you did?”

“True, true,” Discord replied as he stroked his goaty goatee. “Still, it’s not the same as being welcomed, is it?”

Pinkie let the fake smile fall away from her muzzle. “I throw a welcome party for new friends, Discord.”

An arrow sped out of nowhere, thudding into Discord’s chest with a shocking suddenness that made Pinkie jump and yelp.

“Oh, you wound me, Pinkie Pie,” Discord moaned, clutching at the arrow. “Right to the heart, you know that?” He pulled the arrow out, only now the end was a big, colorful, spiral lollipop. “We could be friends, don’t you think?”

He offered the lollipop to Pinkie, who wrinkled her muzzle in disgust and pushed it away.

“After all,” Discord continued, “out of all your friends, you and I are the most alike.”

He took a bite out of the lollipop while Pinkie scowled up at him.

“No, we’re not,” she stated simply.

Discord’s eyes twinkled. “We’re not?” he asked with a voiceful of humor. “We’re both seen as weird and strange by everypony around us, aren’t we? Oh, the shenanigans we could get up to! We could have so much fun! Unlike me and Flutterbutter.” He held out the lollipop again, which was now shaped like a crescent moon due to the huge bite he’d taken out of it. “Sure you don’t want a bite?”

Pinkie ignored the lollipop, instead opting to narrow her eyes up at the spirit of chaos. “You really don’t get me at all, do you?”

“Oh, what’s not to get?” Discord rolled his eyes and pitched the lollipop backwards over his shoulder. The stick caught fire and it launched itself up into the air with a shriek before exploding like a firework. The last few ponies who hadn’t fled the market at Discord’s first appearance all flinched and beat a hasty retreat. “You’re a pony like all the other goody-goody, predictable ponies of the world. It honestly makes me gag. You’re the only one I’ve met who is even slightly interesting.”

The market square was deserted, now, which suited Pinkie just fine. An idea had popped into her head—a wonderful, terrible, awful and incredible idea, and she was in just the right place to do it. She ambled her way to a nearby tree, as if trying to get away from Discord, who tagged along behind her while still droning on.

“Why, in all the centuries I’ve been around, no pony has ever managed to truly surprise me,” he was saying.

“You seemed awfully surprised by the Friendship Rainbow to the face,” Pinkie pointed out.

“If you want to think so,” Discord replied. “That doesn’t change the fact that you’re all so boring it makes me want to cry.”

And cry he did—big, blubbery fake tears—and Pinkie decided that crocodile tears are a lot less creepy when they’re not actual crocodiles. Though, the crocs themselves were kinda cute as they scampered away through the grass.

“Just stop,” Pinkie said, bucking the tree in what she hoped would just look like an expression of frustration. “If we’re so boring, why not just leave us alone?”

Up in the branches of the tree, she heard a quiet rattle, followed by an oh-so-faint sighing sound. The ball is knocked loose, and it’s rolling down the tree branch… she thought.

“You need to understand the true meaning of Chaos,” Discord intoned, drawing himself up pompously. “There’s a reason why I blah-blah-blah.”

“Uh-huh,” Pinkie replied, tuning out Discord’s self-important speech. Ball hits the counterweight, which kicks off the spring…

“Blah-blah, blah-blah-blah,” Discord continued proclaiming. “Blah? Blah! Blah-blah blah blah!”

...Whirlygig releases, the tension in the wire goes slack, causing the base to rotate… “Uh-huh.”

“Blah? Blah-Blah!”

“Uh-huh,” she said, then became aware of the fact that he’d stopped talking. “What?”

“I asked if you’re even listening to me.” He glowered down at her, arms folded across his chest. “It seems clear that you’re not.”

“Sorry, I was distracted for a few seconds, there.” There was a faint ”twang!” sound in the distance, from way over by Mrs. Lavender’s house. Or, more precisely, from Mrs. Lavender’s rooftop. Pinkie frowned, realizing that an adjustment would need to be made for Discord’s taller-than-a-pony stature. “Could you move your head down just a skosh?”

Discord frowned, lowering his head down until he was almost eye-level with Pinkie. “What’s a ‘sko—’?”

A ballistic banana cream pie smacked him full in the face with a thick and oh-so-satisfying “thwuck!” noise.

“That’s for what you did to Sunflower!” Pinkie yelled.

And then she turned on a hoof and ran as fast as her little pink hoofsies could take her, because that’s what sensible mares did when they pie the avatar of chaos in the face, and Pinkie Pie was nothing if not sensible. She took the first turn she could, then another, turning down streets at random and racing until her legs burned and her chest heaved. She came to a stop in a narrow alleyway, panting and leaning against the wall in the back of Mr. Davenport’s shop.

“I take it back,” Discord said from above her. He still had pie in his bushy eyebrows and chunks of banana in his beard. “In all my many centuries of life, one pony has managed to truly surprise me.”

Pinkie stomped a hoof. “Ooh, I knew I shouldn’t have taken the streets at random! Chaos, right? That’s how you found me, isn’t it?”

“Not quite,” Discord scooped a glob of pie filling off of his eyebrow with a talon and popped it into his mouth. “Banana cream? Nice choice. And fresh, too.”

“Well, duh. I wouldn’t hit somepony in the face with an old pie.” Pinkie rolled her eyes. “That’s just plain rude.”

“I appreciate it,” Discord said. He took off his bathing cap, which Pinkie had totally forgotten he was still wearing. His mismatched horns popped up with a rubbery “boing!” noise. “Good thing I still had this on, or my mane would be a mess!”

“So, how did you find me?” Pinkie asked.

“Oh, that’s simple,” he replied. “I can see through time itself!” He waved his arms through the air and made a spooky-sounding “Oooo!” noise.

Pinkie considered that rationally and logically for a few seconds before calmly giving her rebuttal. “No you can’t.”

Discord blinked. “I assure you, I can.”

“Nope.” She shook her head, resolute. “If you can see the future, I never could have pied you, and we never would have been able to rainbow you back into a statue.”

An overstuffed armchair popped into existence. Discord, now wearing a tweed jacket and black-rimmed glasses, sat down in it. “Very astute, but just because I can see through time doesn’t mean that I do it all the time.” He pulled a pipe out of the jacket and gave it a puff, causing rainbow-colored bubbles to float out of it. “The past and present are easy, since there’s only one of each.”

Something in Pinkie’s head went click. “That’s what you meant about hearing everything Celestia said! You looked into the past to hear it!”

“Very good, I’m impressed!” Discord replied, grinning smugly down at her. “What, did you think I was aware of my surroundings while I was petrified for centuries? I’d go insane!”

“Insaner. Which would explain a lot, really.”

Discord waggled his eyebrows at her. “Good point,” he said. “But the future... Ah, the future!” He waved his pipe through the air. “So many possibilities! So much potential! So much lovely chaos!” He grinned down at her, and she shivered just a little. “But when I said I look into the future, I meant all of it, all at once. Every possible outcome of every decision and action that I, you, or any creature takes, even the actions I take in response to the things I see in the future, which makes it even more delightfully chaotic!. All of that spinning down into a single thread, newly-impossible futures being discarded one by one until the only thing left is the ever-changing now.” He shrugged. “It’s oodles of fun, but it gives me a doozy of a headache.”

Pinkie hated to admit it, but she was impressed. “Wow…”

“When I broke free last time, I made the best decisions that I could to end up in the best possible future for me.” He grinned. “Things don’t always turn out like I plan, though.”

“Becoming a lawn ornament, you mean?”

“Indeed!” Discord clapped, and his chair and outfit disappeared with a flash and bang. “See? I told you that you and I are alike! Not many ponies would get that as easily as you did!”

Pinkie didn’t smile. She knew when she was being buttered up. “I told you already, we’re nothing alike.”

“Oh, come on, Pinks! You hit me in the face with a pie! Me! Name one other pony that could have pulled that off!” He frowned down at her. “What’s up with that, by the way?”

“I have distractions set up all around town, in case of a boring conversation emergency.”

“See?” Discord gestured at her with both hands. “That’s what I mean! We both love being weird and random!”

“That’s true,” Pinkie replied, frowning. “But I like to do weird, random things around other ponies to make them laugh. You like to do weird, random things to other ponies, to make yourself laugh. It’s not the same, not at all.”

Discord waved dismissively with his eagle’s claw. “Ah, who cares? So I introduce some chaos to brighten up some pony’s already miserable life. At least I get a laugh out of it!”

Pinkie took a deep breath to calm herself. Some instinct was telling her that this was important, the most important lesson that she, herself, could teach Discord. She had to get the words right.

“You think you’re having fun,” she said slowly. “And, maybe you are. You sure seem like you are, most of the time. When you’re not being all angry and impatient, at least. But a laugh is always better when it’s shared with friends.”

Discord snorted, folding his arms across his chest again. “Oh, come on, now. Really?”

Pinkie grinned. “Yup! I’ve never laughed harder or longer than I have with my friends. That’s the best laughter there is.”

“But you don’t want to be my friend,” Discord replied, pouting.

“I’m willing to try,” Pinkie replied, surprising herself. “But there’s something you need to do, first.”

“What’s that? You want a bribe? Bits? Concert tickets? A return of the chocolate-raining cotton-candy clouds?”

“Oooh…” Pinkie blinked, then shook her head. “No! I mean, yes, but that’s not what I meant. You have to apologize for what you did to me and my friends.”

“Oh, that’s all?” Discord straightened himself up, holding out a bouquet of fake flowers while he cleared his throat. “Pinkie, I—”

“No!” Pinkie stomped a hoof. “You can’t just say the words, you have to mean them! And you have to know what you’re apologizing for.”

He hesitated for a moment, frowning down at her. “I’m assuming that it’s for what I did to you and your friends when I last broke free, yes?”

“That’s part of it, but it’s not all of it.”

Discord scowled like a thunderhead, tossing the flowers away. “You’re not making this easy.”

If you were a better person, it would be easy, Pinkie thought. She congratulated herself on being wise enough not to actually come out and say it, though. Instead, she said, “It’s not always easy making friends.”

“Quite the contrary. Making friends has always come quite easily to me.” Light flashed as he snapped his talons. “See?”

Pinkie was about to ask him what he meant, but a stirring on her back made her words choke in her throat. Slowly, she turned her head to look at her all-but-forgotten passenger. Mister Hugglebunny straightened up from his perpetual slouch, blinking his black button eyes at her.

“Pinkie Pie?” the animated plush animal said in his familiar mournful voice.

“Mister Hugglebunny?!”

The plush rabbit held up a fuzzy paw in front of his black button eyes. “I seem to have acquired new hardware.” His mouth, a cute little ‘w’ made of stitching, didn’t move when he spoke. Instead, the sound just radiated out of the air where his mouth was. “I’m not sure that the driver was properly signed.”

Pinkie’s head whipped around, staring wide-eyed at the grinning draconequus in front of her. “What did you do?!”

“Made a friend for you. Don’t you like it?” Discord shrugged. “Oh, well. It’s not like this enchantment is going to last for long, anyway.”

A chill crept up Pinkie’s spine. “What do you mean?”

Discord put a sharp-looking grin on his muzzle. “Unlike boring old pony magic, chaos magic isn’t what you’d call stable. The only consistency it has is how wonderfully inconsistent it is! I’d say, all things considered…” He eyed the plush rabbit while stroking his scraggly beard. “This particular enchantment will last a day. Maybe two.

A wave of chill horror swept through Pinkie’s entire body. “You made him alive, but it’s only temporary?” she asked, her voice numb and hollow.

Discord gave her a puzzled frown. “All life is temporary. Isn’t it?”

Pinkie stared at Discord, stunned, for what felt like a significant fraction of eternity. Then she turned and ran away, leaving Discord behind. She was mildly surprised that he didn’t try to follow her.

Ponyville flew by in a pastel-colored blur as she ran like she’d never ran before, her legs flashing as she dodged around obstacles and ponies alike. She heard protests from startled ponies as she ran past them, but paid them no mind. Her only thought was to get to the library as fast as possible.

Pinkie Pie was a mare of simple beliefs, and right now those beliefs were telling her that Twilight Sparkle could fix this.

She just had to.

~~*Twilight Sparkle*~~

The door to the Golden Oaks library practically exploded open, startling Twilight so much that she very nearly dropped the book she was in the process of reshelving. She glowered over at the door and the pony in it, ready to unleash a scolding that would be both epic and scalding in nature, when she noted that the pony inquestion was a wide-eyed and visibly distraught Pinkie Pie.

“Pinkie?” she asked, moving cautiously towards her friend. “What’s wrong?”

“Twilight! Oh, thank goodness.” Pinkie rushing forward. “I was walking through town and planning a party—you know, because everypony is all upset and nervous because of Discord—when you-know-who himself showed up and started pestering me, so I hit him in the face with a pie and ran away, and then he made Mister Hugglebunny alive!”

Twilight blinked at the flood of information. “What?”

Pinkie took a deep breath. “Twilight! Oh, thank goodness. I was walking through town—”

“No, no, I mean…” Twilight shook her head, trying to refocus. “What’s this about Discord? He did something to your tablet?”

“Mister Hugglebunny, yeah.” Pinkie sniffled, and Twilight was alarmed to see that there were tears welling up in her friend’s eyes. “He made him alive but it’s not forever.”

Still not quite understanding—how could an inanimate object be alive?—Pinkie’s obvious anxiety left Twilight feeling a little shaken.

“Come and sit down,” Twilight said. “Whatever’s wrong, I know we can figure it out.”

“Thank you,” Pinkie said as she shuffled past her.

As she walked past, Twilight turned a critical eye on the large, grey plush rabbit on Pinkie’s back. The rabbit’s head slowly turned towards her of its own accord, black button eyes blinking slowly at her.

“Hello,” Mister Hugglebunny said in his doleful voice.

“Erk…” Twilight replied, shrinking back. “Wait, you were serious?”

“Yeah,” Pinkie said as she removed the rabbit from her back and sat down on the couch. “Discord did something to him. I don’t know what, but I know you can help me.”

“Uh, I’ll do my best,” Twilight said, staring at the plush rabbit out of the corner of her eye. “We should really get Erin over here. If I’m the local expert on magic, she’s the local expert on human technology.”

Pinkie nodded. “Mister Hugglebunny? Could you send one of those text message things to Sunflower?”

Mister Hugglebunny straightened up and let out what sounded like a long-suffering sigh. “Of course I can, Pinkie Pie. What would you like it to say?”

“Hmm… How about ‘come to the library right away, it’s an emergency’.”

Large, floppy rabbit ears twitched on top of Mister Hugglebunny’s head. “Message sent, Pinkie.” He returned to his regular slouch, his ears drooping over his face.

“Thanks.”

“Fascinating,” Twilight murmured, walking around in order to study the rabbit from multiple angles. “Completely fascinating. Combining magic and computer technology. I always thought this would have so many potential applications that—” She caught Pinkie’s look and cleared her throat. “—that aren’t at all important right now. Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

Twilight sat down next to Pinkie on the lone, small sofa in the library’s reading area. Once settled, Pinkie began filling her in on what had happened after the three of them had gone their separate ways. At the mention of a party, Twilight gave a thoughtful nod. Trust Pinkie to think of the morale of the town. It was something Twilight hadn’t even considered.

At one point during the recitation, Twilight held up her hoof. “Wait, wait. You were serious about hitting Discord in the face with a pie?”

“Yup!” Pinkie grinned. “Banana cream.”

Twilight considered that for a long moment before rendering her verdict. “Nice.”

“I know, right?” Pinkie grinned for a moment before her expression turned serious again. “But then he turned Mister Hugglebunny alive.”

“Pinkie,” Twilight started, trying to make her voice as gentle as she could. “I know you’ve always acted like Mister Hugglebunny is alive, but Erin explained how computers work. You know he really can’t be, don’t you?”

Pinkie shook her head with a sigh. “I suppose it’s my own fault everypony thinks I don’t know what’s real and what isn’t. Pretending is fun.” She looked up at Twilight, her expression earnest. “I know he wasn’t alive, but now I’m not so sure.” She pressed her lips together as tears welled up in her eyes. “And Discord said it would only last for a day or two.”

Twilight put on a reassuring grin and patted her friend on the shoulder. “I don’t think you have to worry too much about it,” she said. “If anything, this is probably something like a chaos-based Come-to-Life spell. It can’t make something alive.”

Pinkie Pie blinked at her. “But it’s got ‘come to life’ right in the name.”

“Well, yes, true, but it doesn’t actually make things alive. It just animates them. Like, remember when I told you about how I cast the spell on that plow during Winter Wrap-up?”

“Yes... “ Pinkie replied slowly. “But that was a wagon. Mister Hugglebunny is different.”

“Well, you see, when you get right down to it—”

“Twilight.”

“Yes, Pinkie?”

“Could the wagon talk?”

Twilight blinked a few times. “No?”

“Then it’s different.”

“Well, I admit that these computers can seem like they’re self-aware, but that’s not the same as being sapient.”

“But are you sure?” Pinkie asked, leaning forward and staring intently into her eyes. “If we just let the magic wear out…” She shook her head. “Can you be absolutely, completely, one-hundred-and-fifty-percent sure?”

“Well, no, because percentages—”

“Then we have to figure out how to keep him animated.” Pinkie hugged the rabbit to her chest again. “If we can’t know for sure, then we have to take care of him.”

Arguments started lining up in Twilight’s mind, not the least of which was a firm denial of even the possibility of Discord creating sapient life. They all died on her tongue in the face of Pinkie’s resolute expression.

“Well, okay,” she said instead. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Pinkie’s answering grin was electric and joyful. “Oh, thank you, Twilight!” She set Mister Hugglebunny down on the couch and gave Twilight a big hug. “Mister Hugglebunny, Twilight’s going to help you! Isn’t that great?”

Twilight barely managed to suppress a shiver as the rabbit blinked up at her. “Thank you, I guess,” Mister Hugglebunny said.

“Uh… You’re welcome?” Slightly creeped out, Twilight managed to pull herself from Pinkie’s hug. “Why don’t you… uh… I’ll go get some lemonade. Why don’t you get comfortable, and I’ll be right back.”

“Okie dokie,” Pinkie said as she slumped down onto the couch.

Getting drinks and a snack was as good an excuse to compose herself as any. And it just so happened that there was a pitcher of lemonade in the refrigerator, squeezed fresh just that morning. Twilight took it out, along with two glasses. After a moment of consideration, she added a third glass, in case Erin showed up, and then took some time to consider potential snacks.

Raw vegetables were typically preferred during the mid-day, at least as far as Twilight was concerned. As much as she liked the pastries she knew that Pinkie would probably prefer, some ponies had to watch what they ate in order to maintain a trim figure. Still, as… acceptable as raw veggies could be, Pinkie was obviously distraught. Perhaps something tastier was in order?

Twilight finally settled on sliced cheese and savory crackers, arranging them just so on the tray. At the last minute, Twilight added a few carrot and celery sticks, because she didn’t have access to a calorie-defying metabolism.

By the time she made it back out to the sitting room, Pinkie looked much improved. Mister Hugglebunny was seated on the couch next to her, still looking around while blinking his little black button eyes. Twilight ignored him and set the tray with the snacks down on the coffee table, pouring both Pinkie and herself a drink just as the library door sprang open once again.

“I got your text,” Erin said as she walked in. She was breathing heavily, obviously having run here.

“Hiya, Sunflower!” Pinkie said, bouncing over to hug the other mare.

“Hey, Pinkie,” Erin said, hugging her back. “So what’s up? I was just wrapping up my first wing therapy…” She trailed off, staring at the large stuffed rabbit on the couch, who raised a paw and offered up a slow wave.

“Hello,” Mister Hugglebunny said.

Erin blinked. She stared open-mouthed at the rabbit, then at Pinkie, then at Twilight, before finally returning her shocked gaze to the rabbit. “What the hell?”

Twilight cleared her throat. “Discord did it.”

The confusion on Erin’s face was washed away by a look of comprehension. “Ah,” she said. “Some sort of illusion, or something?”

Twilight shook her head. “Not exactly. I think it’s a variant of a high-order animation spell, commonly referred to as a ‘Come-to-Life’ spell.”

“Oh. Wow.” Erin sat down heavily on the floor. “Magic can do that, huh?”

“Oh, easily,” Twilight said as Pinkie disengaged from Erin and made her way over to the snacks on the table. “It’s not always permanent, though.”

“Okay,” Erin said, frowning at the plush rabbit. “So, how can I help?”

Twilight didn’t get a chance to answer as Pinkie, spraying a mouthful of cracker crumbs, blurted out, “You need to prove he’s alive so we have a reason to keep the magic going!”

Erin shot Twilight a doubtful look. “Uh, Pinkie, I explained about AI when I gave you the tablet, remember?”

“He’s different, now,” Pinkie said. She sat down on the floor, crossing her forelegs across her chest and giving them both a defiant glare. “I know. I can tell. He’s different.”

Erin looked doubtful. Twilight cleared her throat, getting the attention of the other two mares. “Isn’t there some way you can test? I mean, we each have our tablets, we can check to see if Mister Hugglebunny acts unusual in any way.”

“I suppose…” Erin said, rubbing a hoof on her chin. “There’s also something called a Turing test. It was proposed a long time ago as a test to determine if we’ve got an AI capable of passing as sapient. I don’t recall if there were specific questions to ask, but I can ask him something else.”

“Oh, thank you!” Pinkie cried out. She hugged Erin again, who chuckled weakly and patted her on the back. “I knew you could prove he was alive!”

“That’s not—” Erin started, then cut herself off. “I mean, that’s no problem, Pinkie.” She looked over at Mister Hugglebunny, who was looking at her blankly. “So, uh, I guess I can ask Mister Hugglebunny—”

“Access/authority not recognized,” Mister Hugglebunny interrupted. “You are not Pinkie Pie.”

“It’s alright,” Pinkie said. “Go ahead and answer any questions Sunflower has, okay?”

“Okay, Pinkie,” Mister Hugglebunny replied. He looked up at Erin. “Ask your questions, Sunflower.”

Erin’s eyes widened and she took a step back.

Twilight frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“That… that shouldn’t be possible,” Erin said, her voice shaky.

“What?” Twilight looked at the plush rabbit and then back to Erin. “You mean taking instructions from Pinkie? He does that all the time.” Twilight frowned, suddenly uncertain. “Er, doesn’t he?”

“Not like this,” Erin replied, looking worried. “His security doesn’t work that way, and he shouldn’t have been able to just recognize me like that.”

“Why not?” Twilight asked. “It’s not like what she asked him to do is all that complicated.”

“Mister Hugglebunny is pretty smart,” Pinkie piped in.

“It’s not a question of smart or not, it’s about dealing with real-word context,” Erin replied. “I mean, the system running on the tablet is actually pretty limited in what it can do in the real world, and facial recognition doesn’t work on ponies, yet.”

Twilight frowned down at the rabbit. “Wait. You’re not saying he’s actually—”

There was a flash of incandescent light. “A bouncing baby bunny bundle of joy!” Discord shouted gleefully as he hovered up near the ceiling.

“Discord!” Twilight stomped a hoof. “I didn’t invite you here!”

“You didn’t forbid me from entering, either,” Discord pointed out. “Besides, it’s not every day a draconequus becomes a father!” He snapped his talons, and baby-blue T-shirts with white lettering appeared on everyone in the room. Twilight looked down at hers, reading it upside-down.

Congratulations, it’s a bunny! the shirt read.

“Oh, I couldn’t be more proud!” Discord crowed while shoving a cigar into her mouth. She spat it out, but he’d already moved on to Erin, who had her foreleg up to block her mouth. He tucked the cigar behind her ear, instead. “I’m a daddy!”

“You’re not his daddy!” Pinkie shouted.

Discord stopped, looking at her. “Well, so much for teaching the little scamp how to play ball, then.” His shoulders slumped and he let out an exaggerated sigh. “Well, I guess I should be going, then. Though, I suppose…”

Twilight didn’t buy the thoughtful look on Discord’s face for one second. “What?”

“Well, it seems to me like you’ll need someone to renew the magic on the little fella whenever it’s about to run out,” Discord said. He reached out and ruffled Mr. Hugglebunny’s ears with his lion’s paw.

“Please stop that,” Mister Hugglebunny said. Discord rolled his eyes and took his paw away.

Realization hit Twilight like a runaway cart. “That’s why you did this,” she said, her voice rising along with the anger she felt.

“I’m not sure what you mean, Twilight,” Discord replied, his innocent tone clashing with the smug self-satisfaction oozing through every syllable. “After all, I was just trying to do something nice for my new good friend Pinkie Pie. How was I to know she wouldn’t like it?”

He grinned at them, and Twilight felt her heart thud sharply in her chest.

“Of course, there is the little matter of my probation,” he said. “I’m in danger of having the Elements of Harmony unleashed on me at any moment!” He reclined in mid air, crossing his legs at the knee and folding his arms behind his head. “I’m not worried for myself, of course. But I’d be horrified, simply horrified, if I weren’t around to renew the enchantment on my dear friend, little… er… whatever-his-name-is.”

He flipped around, floating in mid-air on his stomach, grin still in place and his eyes sparkling. “Face it, ladies. You’re stuck with me.”