//------------------------------// // Separation // Story: Resolution of a Queen // by Logarithmicon //------------------------------// “I hate this plan,” Starlight said. “I know,” Spike said, rubbing his claws together, “but Twilight said we’re going with it, and that’s that.” He peered through the glass into the special ward, wincing as his eyes fell on one particular twitching, spasming figure. Across the hall, the last of the chains fell away with a clatter. Chrysalis extended each foreleg in turn, then stretched herself catlike until something popped; around her, guards cautiously stepped back with polearms lowered and at the ready. Spike pondered for a moment how an exoskeleton could pop, then decided it probably wasn’t worth thinking about. Starlight too tore her eyes from the special ward, and turned to Chrysalis as well. “Now, remember: We’re giving you your magic back for this, but if you so much as spark a single mote of any other magic-” “You’ll plunge me back into stone, throw me on the moon, and lock me away for a thousand years. Yes, I get it,” Chrysalis sneered right back. “And don’t you forget, you need to tell any of the others still out there to stop this ‘sharing’. Now, while they can still live. Find somepony willing to donate. And it has to be you; I want them to hear it coming from the all knowing Starl-.” Stepping between them, Spike pushed his wings out towards both mares. “Enough. Starlight, you don’t have to remind her every five minutes. Chrysalis… we’ll send your message, but I’ll choose who.” The former lashed her tail and pinned her ears back; the latter simply smiled saccharinely, though it never reached the Queen’s slit eyes. Those remained as dismissive as ever. “Alright,” Spike said, the silence between them at least good enough. “Chrysalis, do your thing.” She nodded once, and flame cascaded over her form. “Oh,” Starlight breathed. Spike had to agree; what had replaced Chrysalis’ typical gnarled and twisted form was, in its way, beautiful. She had not adopted the other changelings’ so vibrant colors, but instead taken on a pale blue tone - her chitin now glossy and a pale, robin’s-egg blue but for yellowed segments over her back and wings. A mane only slightly darker in tone but thick, lush, and full draped around her neck, while equally blue eyes peered out from soft, un-narrowed eyes. “I never imagined…” Spike breathed, and those pale blue eyes narrowed. “Don’t you start moping over me,” Chrysalis spat, the moment shattered by the sour expression twisting her face. “This is an illusion, nothing more. Remember that, drake.” “Right,” he nodded, the moment having been broken the moment her mouth opened and those acidic tones stung his ear membranes. A curt nod signalled the guards; uncrossing their glaives, they pulled the doors open - neither taking their eyes off the transformed queen for even an instant as they did so. Too many bad memories there, Spike thought. “Okay. Go on in, Chrysalis.” And we’ll be watching you, he added - but not aloud. Not after I lectured Starlight for doing the same thing. When the doors had closed behind her, Spike breathed a little sigh. Only a moment later, he realized Starlight had done the same. “She’s beautiful,” she murmured as she moved to peer through the window into the isolated ward. “If only she’d let go of all her bitterness and allow herself be like that…” “She can’t.” Spike shook his head as he joined her. “Same reason I can’t just ‘let myself’ be bigger. It’s not just something she dislikes, it’s… it’s a danger to all her changelings too. If she gives in, if the Kuru comes for her, it’d be the end of her hive.” “So she thinks.” “Yeah,” Spike murmured, “that is what she thinks. But I don’t know how wrong she is.” Starlight’s head twisted around. She gave a low whinny and a sharp glare. “You can’t be serious.” “I am. Or at least, I understand why she thinks that way, when I feel the same way. Isn’t this-” He gestured through the glass, to Chrysalis as she walked between the rows of beds. “-a compromise?”  -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chrysalis moved carefully, placing each hoofstep as if the tiled floor might be sown with arcanic mines. As if a single wrong step, a brush against one of the beds, could infect her with the same spasming, quivering madness that was all around. This was, of course, ridiculous; but she still did not touch any of them. Rather, she moved like a phantom through the rows of beds - nearly silent, soft blue eyes sweeping from one body to the next filled with nothing but the utmost sadness and care for those they fell on. Studying, examining, searching - but not finding, and moving on to the next patient. Inside the room, every sound that had been masked by the walls assaulted her ears: The rustle and pop of chitin flexing and twisting, the low susurrus of sheets shifting, and the sudden, unsteady gasps of lungs that no longer entirely obeyed. Eyes fell on her as she passed, some open wide for lack of control to close but most with surprise. Heads twisted where they could, and here and there a hoof stretched out as if in plaintive supplication. To each of this, Chrysalis offered a smile: Not one that twisted her lips into a sneering rictus, or was swamped with barely concealed disgust, but a true and warm smile. The smile of a queen, a leader, a parent. A smile which radiated warmth, caring, and acceptance in its gentle curve of the lips. But for none of them did she stop until reaching one particular cot, her gaze fixed on the shuddering victim ensconced on it. Both studied each other for a long, long time. His mouth opened, and noise came out. Not words, but a noise - a kind of sputtering, confused burbling. The speech of an infant, almost universal across nearly all species, inclusive of the amount of spittle flung from the chitinous lips. His brow knitted, and the open mouth tried again: “Bu… burt… butun... buuuuul…” Chrysalis tilted her head, her mask utterly perfect and unflawed. Not a hint of stray sentiment leaked past it, an absolute finite dam before the sea of emotion. He drew a shaky, unsteady breath and tried again. Syllables emerged in a confused jumble, a muddied spray of consonants in a barely coherent pattern. Another breath was drawn, brows were knit as much as uncooperative muscles allowed, and he tried again. “Beautiful,” Thorax breathed. “Y-Yuh. You. B-Beautin - tiful. So. So hack - s-so happy. To see. You.” “Shhh…” Chrysalis cood, leaning over to brush her muzzle against Thorax’s. Pale blue met lime green, and Thorax gave a little happy sigh. Across the ward, every head that could still turn had turned. Dozens of eyes now rested on them. Thorax tried to swallow again, half-choked, and shook his head. “A-Alw-w-w-ways knew. You. You could. D-Do it. Could let - let go.” Chrysalis’ cheeks gleamed with dampness as she pulled back. “I’m going to help you, Thorax. I’m going to - to stop this. I won’t let your suffering go on. The Kuru will not have you.” “N-Nnnnaa-” “Shhh…” Chrysalis brushed his face with a hoof. “Let me do my duty, Thorax. As a queen.” His mouth closed, any further attempts at words forfeited, but eyes wide with unrestricted joy. He nodded once - a long and slow bob of his head, in spite of all control being taken from him.  She leaned in, again touching chitin to chitin. Her mouth opened, gleaming fangs exposed. And the magic began to flow, until Thorax’s shuddering, unsteady breathing went silent.