Maternal Instinct
Chapter Nine
Princess Celestia knew that throughout the duration of her millennium and running reign, she had gained as many enemies as she had allies. Some she did not know what to call at times, given how alliances were formed and broke down in a continuous cycle, in these uneasy times especially. Relations with the Griffin Empire were sporadic in the two superpowers’ struggle for influence in the world, creating a long history of intervals between brief wars and precarious peace. Saddle Arabia’s alliance was purely for economic and security benefit, their cultures staunchly polarized that anything beyond was not feasible. Then there was the Changeling Kingdom, the one nation that, as things currently stood, was Equestria’s greatest foreign enemy.
By all accounts, it was still the Changeling Empire, but its colonies and overseas territories remained insignificant compared to the expanding, insatiable griffins. Even Chrysalis, infamous for her imperialistic and expansionist foreign policies, still only referred to her nation as a ‘kingdom’. Celestia had to give the changelings some credit; their nobility had a greater sense of modesty than those of her ponies.
Equestria’s relations with the kingdom dated back as early as the time of the Scaragowa Shogunate, long before the restoration of the royal throne. And yet many of her little ponies were still naïve enough that many of them still did not know what a changeling was, prior to the Canterlot Wedding (though, granted, even Pinkie Pie did not know what a griffin was until her run in with that bully, Gilda). The Shoguns’ isolationist policy of sakoku both put an end to relations and cut off changelings from their neighbours for centuries. Celestia nowadays preferred to downplay her role in both the sakoku and the shogunate’s end; looking back, she still felt conflicted on her actions back then and whether or not she should have done what she did, but she could ask that about almost everything she had done in her long, long life. Dwelling on them would do nothing to help the present situation.
And the present siaution involved the Alicorn sitting down patiently in the spacious waiting room in the Changeling royal palace in the heart of the Changeling Kingdom.
A gentle, crackling flame was lit for her in the fireplace, creating a remote feeling of warmth and glimmer of light in the dark, chilly room. Her luggage and her pet phoenix, Philomena, had all been taken up to her temporary quarters. She was now waiting for somechangeling, likely of high standing, to come see and greet her. She already accepted that Chrysalis herself may not come down to see her, given their… less than cordial history, but knew her high status as a world leader would mean she would not just be turned away, given she had at least been let into the palace and given a room.
The door opened and a changeling maid came in, middle-aged, orange mane done up in a large bun, and levitating a silver tray holding a roundish iron tea pot and cups. She bowed to the Princess, setting down the tray and pouring her a cup of tea while doing so.
“Arigatou gozaimasu,” Celestia thanked her politely, assuming the maid only spoke Changeling.
“Dou itashimashite, heika. Sugu ni shujin ga mairimasu,” the maid replied with a small smile, bowing once more obediently before leaving.
Celestia took her gyokuro green tea and had a quiet sip as she listened to the faint crackle of the fireplace. Her attention drew to it, starting into the flames almost hypnotically, until her eyes caught sight of a portrait hanging above.
It was a gorgeous watercolour painting of two changelings dressed in rich green kimonos and their manes done up in neat buns; one was a tall, full grown mare, the other a young filly, no older than Applejack’s or Rarity’s little sisters, if not younger. Both were sitting down and smiling serenely on the royal throne, the little one brushing up cosily at the elder’s side as the latter coiled her foreleg around her tiny shoulder. Celestia could not help but grin; they looked genuinely happy together, enjoying each other’s company, immortalized in that wooden frame.
Celestia made out the mare in the portrait to be Chrysalis (though she had to do a double take due to the uncharacteristic bun manestyle for the mare), while the filly she could only assume was her daughter, Pupa. The very filly who was the reason she had flown two whole days to come to the rivalling kingdom.
Her peers back in Canterlot begged her not to come.
“Princess Celestia, please don’t do this!” Twilight was seconds from getting down on her knees and throwing herself at her slippered hooves as they all stood in the Sun Princess’ chamber, the latter being too busy packing her own bags to grant them her undivided attention. “It’s… it’s too dangerous!”
“I appreciate your concern, Twilight, but I’m quite sure I’m old enough and capable enough for going on a diplomatic mission.” Celestia spotted her favourite manebrush still sitting on the vanity and lifted it up and over her student's head. She gave Twilight an unerring wink as it dropped in her bag with some exaggerated ceremony, before glancing over at one of the maids who was busy packing. “Has Philomena been safely taken aboard?”
The maid being addressed stood at attention like a train soldier and replied, “Yes, Your Majesty. She have us trouble getting her into her cage, but she’s fine now and she’s now in your carriage.”
“Thank you.”
“You are going into enemy territory by yourself with only a few guards to protect you,” Prince Consort Shining Armor tried to reason with her, getting back onto the subject. “You’ll be too vulnerable to an attack.”
“Thank you, Shining Armor, but this is not a military operation,” she said, shooting him a stern glare. “Chrysalis may be arrogant, but not stupid enough to attack me when she’s not charged up on love. She’ll play by international law, this time.”
“But why?” Twilight asked, still incredulous. “Princess, you owe her nothing!” She spoke ‘her’ with enough contempt as if it were a curse. “I know you always have your reasons, but this is just so... so...”
Celestia arched an eyebrow quizzically. “Crazy?”
“N-No, just... I’m sorry,” she squeaked, fearing she had earned her mentor’s ire.
Celestia sighed, looking down sympathetically over her student and fellow Princess whom she still towered over. She took the lavender Alicorn by her chin and lifted it up to look her in her pretty violet eyes.
“Oh, Twilight, I understand how it must feel when I do things like this, and I know you only have my interests and the kingdom’s at heart. I hate keeping things from you and everypony just as much as you do, but this is something I must do. I promise I will tell you more once I return. Okay?”
Twilight managed a smile and nodded, “Okay.”
It was her sister, Princess Luna, who was the most adamant, going so far to try and talk her out of it along their walk to Celestia’s flying carriage. “Sister, if you really are to do this, you should at least let me come with you! I can help you in case things turn sour, and knowing Chrysalis--”
“No, sister, I need you to remain here and rule the kingdom in my stead,” Celestia told her resolutely, placing a hoof on her shoulder. “Besides, let’s not forget what happened the last time you enacted your personal brand of diplomacy.”
“If you’re referring to the time with the Zebra General--”
“No, I’m referring to the time you punched the Diamond Dog President in the face.” Celestia flinched as she wished Lula had not brought up that particular unpleasantness in Zecronica. “But since you mentioned that particular General, then yes, that little international incident is valid, too."
The younger Princess could not help but form a half amused, half wicked grin at both memories. “Well, sister, the next time an oversized bulldog brushes up on your leg like that, I’d very much like to see how you’d react! Oh, and I didn’t punch him in the face; I kicked him in the stomach first.”
Celestia rolled her eyes. “Point proven. Just stay here, sister. I will be back in three days at most.”
“If that is your wish, so be it,” Luna sighed as they stopped outside the balance before the carriage and nuzzled each other affectionately on the cheek. “But if you happen upon an instance where you require our help, let us know immediately.”
“I will.” Celestia sincerely hoped that should not have to.
Her meditative trance was broken by the sudden opening of the doors and the entrance of a changeling stallion of in a cobalt blue formal kimono. She stood up out of respect for her host, going so far to bow in the traditional changeling manner before him, having deduced from his build and attire to be royalty, likely high up in the ranks of the Changeling Army. It was also simply good manners, something a lot of ponies back in Equestria applied to those they saw as the ‘enemy’.
“Welcome, Princess Celestia, princess and co-sovereign of Equestria,” Prince Pincer trotted to his Equestrian-styled chair opposite the foreign Princess as he greeted her with a bow of his own. They both sat down and rested their back against the padded backrests, the elderly Prince adjusting himself to the awkward furniture and pouring his own cup of tea. “I am Prince Pincer, Gensui and uncle to Her Majesty, Queen Chrysalis.”
“It is an honour to finally meet you, Prince Pincer,” Celestia nodded, smiling kindly. Hearing his name reminded her of many hours spent in the library going over books on military tactics, both old and new, particularly in the Changeling Kingdom section, and she remembered his name coming up more than once. “It’s funny. I never thought I’d get the opportunity to meet the Dragonfly of the East in flesh and fur.”
The Prince flinched uncomfortably at being addressed with his famous moniker, however sincerely and actually complimentary she said it. He kept a straight face and stroked his hoof over the other.
“We are most humbled by your visit, Princess Celestia, though a few days notice before your arrival would have certainly allowed us to prepare more.”
“I completely understand,” she replied empathetically, sipping her tea again. “This was a decision I had to make on short notice. If I could, I would have organized this much earlier in advance.”
“I am sure. It’s just that...” Pincer did not know how to put this without causing unintended offence to the Equestrian ruler. “Such an unexpected appearance here, in the Changeling Kingdom of all places especially, can lead to some more irrational changelings making presumptions.”
“Like your niece?” she queried curiously, raising a brow. “Is that why she has not come down to see me?”
“More like my younger niece. She fears you’ve come with a warrant from the World Court for her sister.”
It took Celestia a second or two to comprehend what he was talking about, but it inevitably clicked. Equestria had never got over the siege of Canterlot all those years ago. To many, particularly amongst the ruling nobility, Chrysalis was nothing but a war criminal, one whom had still not been brought to justice. To get a warrant from the World Court to finally bring her in to stand trial was one of the more heatedly discussed topics in her and Luna’s courts, particularly around the time of the joint anniversary of the royal wedding and the invasion.
“I promise you I come bearing no ill intention towards the Queen or your kingdom,” Celestia insisted with earnest. “But I do need to talk to her as soon as possible.”
“A matter of grave importance for both our nations, I assume?” he asked, resting his head in his open hoof. “Something that upsets your grand plans? I cannot think of any other reason now that suddenly brings you here.”
“You’re quite astute, Your Highness.”
“Thank you.” Pincer had now become more comfortable and relaxed in the Sun Princess’ presence, having got to experience her gentle, light-hoofed attitude for himself. “Well, in that case, I’m afraid that at this moment, she will not see anychangeling, even me. You see, Your Majesty, you’ve come at a grave time for my family. Something... something has happened very recently, a very personal matter, and the Queen is no longer in a correct state of mind to attend to the affairs of state, so you see--”
“I know.”
Pincer had to do a double take. “I’m sorry?”
“I am fully aware that Princess Pupa is in hospital at this very moment,” she said plainly, using her magic to pour herself another cup of tea. She licked her lips satisfyingly; she did not see eye-to-eye with the changelings on many things, but she could not deny they made some of the best tea one could get one's hooves on.
“But-- but how?”
“Discord told me,” she shrugged nonchalantly.
“We should have realized nothing escapes the Marquess of Chaos’ eye,” the Gensui muttered bitterly into his hoof. Even with their security at its tightest, the royal family could not prevent the rest of the world from still finding out about their most private affairs. “So it is the Princess who is the reason you are here?”
Celestia clucked her tongue against the back of her teeth. “Partly. There is something of the utmost importance that I can only speak to the Queen about. I know you said she will not see anyone, and I understand she is in a bad place at the moment, but it isn’t something that can wait, so I must insist on seeing her.”
“I’ll take your word for it, Princess, but there’s something else you should know, something I withheld,” he rubbed the back of his head and put his cold, untouched tea back. “We... are not entirely certain where Chrysalis is at this very moment.”
She blinked. “What?”
“She has teleported. The last we saw her was in her chamber, but we have no way of knowing where she’s gone.”
Celestia just rolled her eyes and giggled half-heartedly at this response. “Is that all?” she asked him like he was a young colt voicing concern to his mother over an everyday fillyhood trifle.
“Well... yes?”
“Your Highness, if the scorch mark is still intact, I can track where she went,” she informed him amiably. “If you want, I can do that right now.”
“You would?”
“It would be no problem, and would help deal with both our problems.”
Pincer paused to contemplate this for a moment, rubbing his chin in deep thoughts before turning his head towards the doors, beckoning the help, “Maid! Maid!” They slid open and a changeling mare’s head poked through. “Fetch me the keys to the Queen’s bed chamber, at once.”
Two guards remained at the doors leading into Pupa’s room. Both were under strict orders not to let anychangeling other than medical staff and changelings under orders from the royal palace inside. So far, only nurses had come to check on the Princess and once they had finished, left without a word. Nothing was out of the ordinary, as far as they could tell, and the Princess was safe.
Neither took any notice of the dull green light flickering through the door window.
Queen Chrysalis phased out of the dying green embers of her teleportation spell. Her face was calm, almost tranquil, but with the gentlest twitch of her left eye. The bulges on her long, ‘naked’ frame hung loose without a kimono wrapped around to cover the mess up, and tucked within the many holes riddling her legs was a folded piece of paper. Her walk was certainly the thing most off about her: she could not take more than two steps without a stumble, like one of her legs was badly wounded from battle.
She found who she was looking for immediately, and, in her chest, Chrysalis felt her heart sink.
In the middle of a neat row of beds, Crown Princess Pupa laid soundly in a sleep too perfect, too pure to be normal. Coiled around her body like a bed of snakes was an assortment of wires, hooking her up to the monitors, from which a low, morbid beep continuously resonated. Her whole body was covered in lacerations and bruises (all in the shapes of large hooves), her otherwise serene face sporting a horrid black eye and a swollen cheek. The nurses had cleaned most of the blood away, leaving only the stains in the thick bandages wrapped around her legs and upper abdomen and the dried splatter on the same lilac kimono she had been brought in wearing two days ago.
A sleeping angel.
In the filly’s closed sockets, Chrysalis could spot her eyes moving.
‘She must be dreaming,’ she remarked mentally, approaching Pupa’s beside with care, her hooves making ghostly gentle steps against the floor.
She got down on her knees so her head was more level with her daughter’s. For what felt like an eternity for the Queen, she just sat there, camouflaging into the darkness of the room like a shadow. Her eyes were firmly locked on her filly and her little form rising and falling slowly with every breath fighting against the tight bandages around her chest.
The longer she stared wistfully at her filly, no longer a grub but not far passed, Chrysalis realized her vision clouding with mist and felt two warm streaks crawling down her cheeks from her sore, puffy eyes. She forced a bitter laugh; she figured she would have run dry of tears by now. She was so sick and tired of crying.
No longer able to continue doing nothing but sit there and do nothing, the Queen outstretched her hoof to the child’s still form, resting the back of it on her cheek. The moment they touched, Chrysalis recoiled and gasped. Ice cold. Just like in her dream.
Her instincts driving her, Chrysalis carefully got into bed with Pupa, trying as hard she could not to bump her or shift her in any way from her delicate position. The filly needed her mother’s warmth before she froze. Cushioning down on the cotton blanket, she shuffled close and, with her hoof, hooked Pupa and drew her to her chest, pressing their cheeks together.
She listened to her breathing: it sounded laboured and hard on her little lungs without the aid of an oxygen mask, like one of her toys was rattling around in her ribcage. Her heart would not be able to take it for much longer.
It was happening all over again. There was nothing she could do to stop it all the other times and there was nothing she could do to stop it now.
Memories came flooding back to the aged Queen, ones she had been shoving to the back of her head for so many years.
“Mama…”
The colt lay tucked between her forelegs. The skin beneath his fur had paled greatly, save for the enormous dark green blotches partly wrapped up that covered nearly half of his abdomen, and all his legs fell limp, the greatest amount of effort needed to lift just one. His body was, after so long putting up great resistance to much suffering, giving in. The wobble in his tiny voice indicated he knew it and accepted it, the desire for the pain to end greater than the one to struggle on.
Only two torches mounted to the walls created the minuscule amount of light in the dark room. It was the more comforting that way. Several servants knelt down by their bed, forming a protective ring around the royal pair as they awaited the inevitable.
Chrysalis levitated the water from the basin and let it flow into the colt’s partly open lips, rubbing his throat to help him swallow. She tried to hold a strong face for him, but she could not hide the glistening in her harlequin pools or her ears that were laid back flat. She felt her heart literally lurch in her chest when he spoke in his raspy, strained voice.
“Shhh, don’t say anything,” she replied, keeping her tone soothing and gentle, brushing away his fringe that was clinging to his clammy forehead by cold sweat. “I’m here for you. Drink.”
The doctors said there was nothing they could do for him or to halt the nonstop bleeding; they gave him days. All they could suggest was she spend his final hours with him, making sure he was comfortable.
The water did nothing to help. He continued trembling in his mother’s legs, feeling whatever was left of his energy leaving his body, numbness gradually overtaking his senses. Soon, it would become too much of a chore to even breath.
“But I’m cold,” he whimpered, his tiny voice cracking.
Hearing those words chilled the Changeling Queen to the bone. She nuzzled his cheek.
“I know. Close your eyes and go to sleep now, dearest. It will be alright.”
That was a lie. She was always a bad liar, in spite of what she thought.
He did not want to sleep yet. He tried clawing himself closer to her, but she spared him the suffering and brought the precious little thing to her chest for him, her chin resting upon the crown of his head and hugging him so tight he could have disappeared into her bosom.
His wide, dull eyes finally fluttered shut, and one final murmur escaped his white lips.
“I love you, Mama.”
Chrysalis felt her entire being quiver and the dam in her eyes broke. She whispered back when she could at last find the words to speak.
“I love you, too.”
It was neither the first nor the last time she experienced such a grave loss. Her son was placed snugly in his tiny coffin and slid into the pearly white family tomb with his brothers and sisters where he could be with them and his ancestors for the rest of time. Several fillies and unhatched eggs followed, none of them long for this world.
With all her so-called ‘almighty, tremendous’ powers, Chrysalis still could not save any of them.
Her Pupa was the last, her last child to survive into fillyhood. As such, she was the only legitimate heir to the changeling throne. Now, as the White Changeling of Death came for her, the line of succession was jeopardised and a powder keg of chaos was about to be unleashed upon their kingdom. But none of that mattered anymore. She and her daughter, here and now in the latter’s final hours, were all that mattered in her mind.
Chrysalis racked her brain, searching hard for pleasant memories of them together to give her some solace, but it became frustratingly apparent that said memories seemed too few and far between. She did manage to pluck one, right from the very beginning, and it tugged a fond smile at the corner of her mouth as she brushed a part in Pupa’s mane.
The icy winter winds and snow violently rattled the window panes of Chrysalis’ chamber, and blocked out the pitch black of early morning with a thin layer of white. The Queen herself laid bedridden, face drenched in cold sweat, every muscle aching with ceaseless pain and long, shuddering breaths being forced into her raw, overworked lungs. She had gone through the same agonizing pain so many times now, but it never got the slightest bit easier.
It had been such a long, difficult process, far more than the others were. It took her several hours to finally push the damn egg out of her: it was so big it nearly tore her in half coming out! Now it had been days since that horrible moment, but instead of feeling any kind of relief, she found herself in pain still and confined to her bed since. The doctors administered her with drugs to alleviate her suffering, while constantly making sure to treat her against the dangerously real threat of infection.
Chrysalis’ mind was rendered a shambles, clouded with the results of countless sleepless nights, the intense strain on her body and her reliance on the drugs. Focusing her depleted strength, she tried to open her eyes and look around for help, but her eyelids felt like they were made of lead, with days-old grey bags setting beneath the black, flaky skin under her eyes. Instead, she let out a loud, painful groan, trying to get somechangeling’s attention.
One of the older midwives in the room, a white-headed griffin standing tall amongst the shorter, less stocky changelings, came to her bedside, holding a soaked cloth in her claws and dabbed it against the Queen’s forehead.
“Shhh, meine Liebe,” she whispered gently, her foreign accent distinguishable to the drowsy mare. “Do not stress yourself. You need your rest.”
Chrysalis cringed with discomfort and swatted the cold rag away. She let out a faint whimper, trying to tell her something, but it was almost too quiet for the nurse to hear. It sounded like, “I want my egg.”
“Vat?” she asked. The Queen’s bloodshot eyes forced themselves open and she grabbed the nurse roughly by the collar, trying to pull her exhausted body up.
“I want my egg!” she cried pathetically, tears brimming and pounding her legs against the blanket like an upset filly having a tantrum. “P-Please, I just want to hold it!”
“Nein, Your Majesty,” the nurse responded firmly, her superior griffin strength holding Chrysalis down. “I’ve told you, it needs to remain in its incubator until ze time comes for hatching.”
“But… but I need it! Please, only for a little while…”
The nurse shook her head and pressed the wet cloth delicately on her cheek, taking one of her shaking hooves in her large but surprisingly gentle claws and stroked it tenderly like a loving mother would. “Ze egg vill hatch any day now, und then you can hold your baby all you vant.”
Chrysalis felt her lip tremble and she choked back a sob, but submitted, nestling her heavy head back into her pillow. All she really wanted was her little grub, to hold it in her legs and admire its adorable smiling face and see for herself that it was okay. She had gone through so much grief; time and time again these moments, which were supposed to be so wonderful for her and the royal family, were cursed to be short-lived and marred by loss and heartache of the worst kind.
She would not say it out loud for those to hear, but inwardly she prayed, no, begged the Kami to have mercy not on her, but on the little one whose fragile heart beat from inside its smooth, hollow vessel.
As the griffin midwife began pouring a vivid blue potion onto a silver spoon and shoved it between her patient’s lips, she could not resist feeling a great sympathy for this Queen; she had helped deliver hundreds of children in her long career, be they foals or the eggs of chicks or larvae, and it was cruel to keep the child and mother apart. But the egg was simply too large and in greater need for warmth than the Queen could provide. For the little one’s welfare, it needed to remain within the safer confines of the incubator, until the moment of joy finally came.
“Swallow it,” she grunted, pinching Chrysalis’ muzzle. The mare had no choice but to swallow the vile potion she kept trapped in her cheeks, leaving behind in her throat a horrible burning sensation. “Honestly, I did not expect ze Queen of ze Changelings to act like such a chick. Sleep.” She finished definitively by personally closing her eyelids shut with her talons.
Chrysalis knew fighting back was futile, especially against a creature that could easily throttle her in her weakened state. She would simply have to force herself back to sleep, the only thing she was able to these last few days of Tartarus, besides being spoon-fed morsels and medicine and be tossed around like a rag doll as the servants changed her sheets.
She slowly drifted off once more. Her last thoughts were on her baby, what it would look like, how big it would be, whether it would be a beautiful filly or a handsome colt. These thoughts provided her with some comfort and very nearly lulled her to sleep, until…
Knock, knock, knock, came the rapid beats against the chamber doors.
One of the changeling nurses immediately flew over and opened the doors. On the other side stood a static mare whose grin reached ear-to-ear and her cheeks were flushing green. Chrysalis heard some excited chatter between the two and forced her eyes open to see one of them standing right over her, looking like she was about to explode with anticipation.
“Your Majesty, wonderful news!” she chirped, beaming. “The egg has just hatched!”
Feeling a surge of adrenaline through her tired muscles, Chrysalis sat up straight in a millisecond, jaw dropped and eyes bugging.
“It has? W-where is it? Is it okay?!” she jabbered quickly, immediately losing her balance, the nurses having to hold her by her cold, wet shoulders. “Is it a colt or a filly?”
“Easy!” snapped the griffin nurse, barging in and taking the nurse who just broke the news aside a moment. “What are you talking about? The egg shouldn’t have hatched yet.”
The mare was too excited to let her elation dampened by the griffin’s dowdy attitude.
“I know, isn’t it marvellous?” She slipped her way out of her muscular grip and kneeling down by Chrysalis’ bedside. “It’s a beautiful filly, my Queen. You have a daughter.”
A daughter. She had a daughter. She managed to smile and shed a few tears as she experienced the tidal wave of simultaneous emotions. Being a mother of a newborn grub once more brought her those same feelings joy, relief, pride, but lingering anxiety as well, as was natural.
“Is she alright?”
“Yes. She’s a bit underweight, but otherwise completely healthy.”
Another nurse asked her, pointing to the door, “Shall we make the announcement?”
“Yes,” Chrysalis breathed, her voice filled with relief, reclining back into her hot, sticky bed. One of the nurses reapplied the wet cloth to her head, this time she welcomed it gratefully.
The griffin nurse rolled her eyes and trekked her way to the doors with the others, looking back and asking, “I suppose you wish us to bring you your newborn?”
“I’d like that very much.”
So they did. A couple of nurses left to fetch the newborn, while the rest stayed behind to prepare the room; they opened the windows ajar to let some fresh air in, moved some furniture aside and changed the Queen’s sheets for the umpteenth time, as well giving her a good wash. Things needed to be made as neat and proper as possible for the first meeting between the Queen and the new Crown Princess.
Minutes later, the nurses returned with a column of the Queen’s personal hoofmaidens and a young servant in tow, a good-looking mare with a lavender mane tied back in a ponytail, who was tenderly holding a thick white bundle of blankets in her foreleg as they hovered over to Chrysalis’ bedside.
“Your Majesty...” The servant got on her knees and outstretched her legs, passing the heavy bundle over to her sovereign, a smile on her face and shedding tears of joy. “Your daughter.”
The moment Chrysalis’ harlequin gaze met with those of the tiny grub, half curled up in vein of a pill-bug in the wrapped blankets and now resting restlessly in her legs, she could literally feel her heart melting like a stick of butter. Her adorable, well-rounded chubby face stuck out from her wormy body resembling a snuggly grey sleeping bag and the numerous feelers, which were pitifully thin compared to the rest of her bulk, waved helplessly, lightly tickling Chrysalis’ face the closer the latter brought her, the tips of their muzzles bopping.
“Hello there,” she whispered, near inaudibly, ignoring her own tears of happiness flowing from her eyes.
Moments passed before a word was uttered by anychangeling. Chrysalis bounced the still squirming grub about in her hold for a while as she made cooing noises and showered her in sticky wet kisses and licks of her long, viper-like tongue at her face and neck to sooth her once she started crying. It was successful when the filly grub burst out giggling, saliva firing out of her mouth like a gunshot and all over Chrysalis’ muzzle. One of the hoofmaidens already gave her a hoofkerchief before the last drop landed on her fur.
“Look at you,” Chrysalis chuckled with amusement, wiping up the drool on her grub’s face first, then her own. She bounced her some more, in an inspecting manner. “You are one beautiful grub. Just like your Mama. A bit of a dribbler, though. Pretty light, too.”
“Do not worry, Your Majesty,” said one of the hoofmaidens, who took the liberty of perching themselves around the Queen’s bed like a wake of vultures to fawn over the newest edition to the royal family. She shoved her mug in, trying to get a better look at the grub. “We’ll have her fattened up like a good royal grub in no time.”
“Ooh, she’s already grown some mane!” remarked another hoofmaiden, indicating with her hoof to the small mess of gossamer cerulean. “Roachanovs always have the most fabulous manes!”
Chrysalis brushed off their sycophantic compliments, her attention focused entirely on her grub. They almost never broke eye contact, though the little one’s eyes remained squinted and not quite able to focus.
A voice piped up amongst the sea of superficial compliments. “Do you know what you wish to name her, Your Majesty?”
The hoofmaidens fell silent and their cold, judgemental eyes suddenly landed on the servant who stood out like a sore hoof. She gulped and recoiling slightly, blushing in embarrassment, immediately regretting opening her fat mouth.
“Shouldn’t you be leaving now, servant?” the first hoofmaiden asked her icily, more of a politely dressed order than a query.
She was about to do just that with her tail hung shamefully between her legs, when the Queen raised a hoof, looking softly upon the dejected young mare.
“No, she can stay.” The hoofmaidens stared at her like she had grown a third eye below her horn, but she continued. “After watching over my egg and delivering her to me safely, I think she’s earned a good ten minutes or so. What’s your name, dear?”
“Cerci, my Queen,” the young mare answered, dipping her head humbly.
“I actually have, Cerci, thank you for asking,” she said with an almost sincere air to her calm, almost sincere voice. She gazed back down at her grub, planting one more smooch on her puffy cheek before declaring smoothly, “I’m going to call her Pupa.”
The hoofmaidens appeared rather puzzled by this name choice, cocking their brows and staring at each other for some kind of clue or hint as to why. Pupa. It was by not necessarily the most popular name in the kingdom, which itself was not a major problem, but there were a slim number of changeling royals who bore the mantle. Chrysalis noticed their confusion and rolled their eyes.
“A special child deserves a special name, wouldn’t you agree? I remember many of the consorts of the past being called Pupa. Now my daughter will be the Changeling Kingdom’s first Queen Pupa.”
“I think it’s a darling name,” Cerci chimed, her tone not indicating the kind of toadying to be expected from the hoofmaidens. “It’s short, simple and sweet.”
Following suit, the hoofmaidens broke into deafening agreements like a brood of clucking hens. Amidst the chatter, the newly named grub blinked and yawned loudly, encouraging the mother to bring her closer to chest and let her snuggle into her sheening grey coat. Chrysalis perched her strong chin carefully over her daughter’s head, protecting her from any invisible forces that may pose a threat to her.
“You’re going to be a perfect, pretty Princess,” she murmured sweetly into her little bat-like ears, her heart swelling with so much pride it could clog her throat. “And when you grow up, you’ll be a great Queen, even greater than your mother. You’ll be the jewel of all our lives. My little Pupa-chan.”
That was one of their happier times. For many weeks after she was born, Chrysalis had Pupa more protected than the rarest artworks in the Louvre in Prance, with guards stationed at every door and corner in the perimeter surrounding her nursery, armed to the fangs, sparing no expense, making Pupa probably the most expensively protected grub in the world. It was not long before Cerci was also hired around the same time as Pupa’s head nanny and carer; she had chosen the right time to make the right impression on the Queen.
The first years – the grub stage – were the smoothest. Pupa was born a beautiful, reasonably healthy infant and immediately fattened up until she was the size and shape of a beach ball, sometimes being fed love by three servants at once for hours. Statistically, many grubs born to peasants experienced problems when they began growing into fillies and colts and sprouting their legs and wings, due to widespread malnourishment, uncleanliness and disease; in her caring, clean royal environment Pupa should have had little to no problems evolving.
‘How did it all go so wrong?’ Chrysalis inwardly sighed mournfully.
‘You know what happened,’ echoed a deep, snarling voice filled with contempt in the back of her head. ‘Let’s not forget what happened not so long after, dearest.’
Chrysalis chomped hard on her lip, her fangs drawing thin lines of blood. How could she forget?
The griffin doctor, dressed in a sheening black suit and waistcoat, loomed over the Princess’ crib in a manner not too dissimilar to a father keeping a watchful, protective eye of his eggs or chicks. He kept his cold, yet inquisitive eyes on the half-formed filly laying snugly in her blankets as he waved his dimly glowing wand over her large head at a snail’s pace.
Pupa blinked curiously at the strange bird-like creature as she suckled noisily on her oversized pacifier, cooing and gurgling and wiggling her four new teeny tiny legs, all half-submerged in her still rounded grub-like body, none appearing quite the same as the other. The child had nearly completed her evolution into a filly, having already lost her useless feelers to be replaced by four pony legs, whilst her back had recently sprouted her translucent wings, her horn growing tall and twisted at an aggressive rate, and the rest of her body to soon take on a more equine shape.
Soon, the griffin stopped what he was doing and turned away to face the collection of different creatures standing in the darkened nursery. Only a desk lamp was left lit, casting everychangeling in the room in an unsettling shadow.
That was the best word to describe the feeling in the room: unsettled. A dreary mood filled the air, manifesting itself with the expressions of doom on everychangeling’s face. The ignorant grub could not comprehend what was going on, which was probably all for the best. She yawned lightly before curling herself up a bit, burying her face into the smooth coat of her chest.
The grownups in the room consisted of three other doctors – a changeling, a diamond dog and a wildebeest – the relatively new nanny Cerci, and Her Royal Majesty herself. The griffin looked at his Changeling counterpart and gave him a nod, seemingly one of grim confirmation, and the changeling nodded slightly in reply, staring mutely at the elaborate, expensive carpet on which he stood.
Everychangeling began filing out of the room without making a sound, not even that of a hoof, paw or talon crunching the carpet or creaking the old wooden floorboards. Only Cerci remained, standing protectively by the crib and gazing worryingly over the grub she held more important to her than anychangeling else. She reached into the crib, pulling up her blankets and licked her cheek, and hummed for her her favourite lullaby, helping her on her trip to the dream world.
Outside, the group walked their down the hallway and out onto a balcony. It was a cool, silent night, with the lights of the metropolis surrounding the citadel serving as a beacon in the pitch-black, outshining Princess Luna’s moon. In most modern world cities, the tranquillity of night was disturbed by the hustle and bustle of the night industry, but not hers, not tonight. Tonight, it was like the entire capital had turned into a graveyard.
Queen Chrysalis stood apart from the group of multi-species doctors, preferring for the moment to observe her city in all its dignified glory: the biggest, wealthiest and most militarily protected in the Far East, her city stood out as a landmark of modernity in this still largely undeveloped part of the world.
“The Princess’ symptoms worried me,” spoke the changeling doctor as the others stood behind him, making sure he chose every world carefully around the Queen. “I made some tests – a blood sample, a head scan, a physical; I wanted to be thorough. I’m not a specialist in this area, but I’m afraid my fellow doctors agree.”
Chrysalis turned away from the city skyline and looked the doctor in the eye.
“So there’s no doubt of it?” she asked plainly, her voice not indicating either anger or fear. The wildebeest and the griffin shook their heads. “No doubt of any kind?”
“The Princess’ legs and wings are growing disproportionate to each other. Her left foreleg and both wings are growing especially undersized.”
“... I see,” Chrysalis spoke after a pause, small cracks appearing in her regal bearing and her eyes wavering from them, becoming unfixed on anything.
“Ve also checked her wings as you requested,” continued the griffin stoically, maintaining a composed, professional demeanour throughout the whole affair. “Ve weren’t sure at first, given they’re only weeks old, but ve measured them and compared them to ze national average. Zey’re growing at a much slower rate than normal und their size is unnaturally smaller than they should be. Her horn, however, seems to be growing fine.” He added the last part seemingly as if it may offer some comfort to the matriarch, however slim that may be.
Chrysalis did not respond, choosing to avert her sullen eyes. Her expression was difficult to read, while the rest of her body gave the appearance of slumping, like the unseen puppeteer who was holding her up aloofly was cutting the wires.
“Your Majesty—“
“Give me a moment.”
The command was crisp, as if speaking to one of her maids, but her upset, while stifled, was present. But the doctors understood and excused her; such information required a moment for a parent to absorb.
The changeling doctor grimaced: there was more they had to tell her, news he knew she would not take well.
“Your Majesty... that’s not all we found.”
“Her physical has revealed the Princess is developing a curvature of the spine,” the wildebeest stated, pushing his glasses back up his muzzle. “Her spine is curving off somewhat to the right when it should be straight.”
The diamond dog, a small female cocker spaniel, took out a set of notes from her jacket’s pocket. “We also discovered from the blood test she has a significantly lower white blood cell count than is healthy for a larva her age.” She added reassuringly when she noticed the mortified look on the monarch’s face, “It’s not life-threatening, but it will still leave her very much vulnerable to illness and infection.”
“I see,” Chrysalis could only repeat like a broken record. When none of them followed up, she reproached them sternly, “If it doesn’t stop there, just get on with it! Spare me your dramatic effect!”
Bracing himself, the changeling doctor sighed. “Very well. Your Majesty, my brain scan picked up... abnormalities. My colleagues repeated the scan and I’m afraid the results were all the same. Her brain is not developing like a normal larva’s should.”
Chrysalis’ jaw hung open, her mouth gaping like a stranded fish for something to say.
“It vill unquestionably result in mental retardation,” the griffin declared conclusively.
The information crashed over Chrysalis’ head like a ton of breaks. Images filled her head of Pupa as a grown mare, weak and enfeebled, shrunk up on the throne in a fetal position, completely unable to attend to the affairs of state while their kingdom collapsed like a stack of cards. She looked down, her shoulders tensing and her breathing becoming louder and furious with each draw.
“No...” She shook her head in fierce denial, her ears laid back flat. “NO!” She looked up at them blazingly and spat, “You’re WRONG!”
“We’re only telling you the facts--”
“MY DAUGHTER CAN’T BE A RETARD!” she screamed, spittle flying from her mouth and her ferocity making the changeling doctor jump back.
She stood seething for few moments before the scared mute doctors, stewing in a crock of bubbling anger. It soon dissipated by the unbidden onset of a migraine headache, to which she rubbed her temple furiously. Or maybe she felt a pang of regret for using such hurtful language about her baby.
Her emotions mellowing, she readdressed them in a calmer tone but keeping a steely visage.
“... I’m sorry. It’s just that none of my other children... none of them suffered like this. W-why is this happening?”
Gathering himself from the Queen’s outburst, the wildebeest answered first. “Your Majesty, these ailments are mostly hereditary,” he told her. “They’re passed down through your family as an ultimate result of continuous generations of intermarriage and the shrinkage of the gene pool. Many of your children were inflicted, as well as other royal family members of recent generations. Your aunt, Princess Arachnia suffered from mental retardation and one of your sons, Prince Leech, he too had a low white blood cell, however, his was…” He trailed off, seeing the glint of pain and warning in the monarch’s eyes, and got to the point. “They strike some family members, while others, like yourself, are more lucky. The Princess, I am afraid, has accumulated many.”
“Right now, we can’t be sure what other disorders she has inherited, but we’ll run more tests to check for anything we’ve missed,” added the diamond dog.
“So what’s the treatment?” Chrysalis asked, rather out of the blue.
“Treatment?”
“Yes, what can you do for her?”
All the doctors looked amongst each other perplexedly. They could all tell the Queen was serious, but that only raised further questions about her intelligence or if she was in denial. The griffin beat the others to the punch.
“Zere’s very little we can do, Your Majesty.”
Chrysalis was not even angry at that statement. She looked more flabbergasted than anything, her hoof raised imploringly to them.
“What are you talking about?!” she half-pleaded, half-snapped, her voice raising a few octaves. “That not possible. This isn’t the dark ages; there must be something you can do! You helped my others! You’re just going to allow Pupa to suffer?!”
Eyeing his tactless colleague crossly, the changeling doctor stepped forward and tried to calm his monarch down, hooves raised in a defensive manner.
“What he meant is that yes, we could help the others, but the Princess’ condition is far more severe than theirs were. We can treat the back with chiropractic therapy and braces, and while there’s this treatment that is still in development for treating low white blood cell counts, all we can recommend for now is keeping her indoors.”
“Ze rest ve can do little to nothing about,” the griffin went on bluntly, his attitude unchanged. “If she vill ever walk or fly, I cannot say, but there is certainly no cure, nor do I believe there ever vill be, for mental retardation.”
Chrysalis knew that was that. She was not talking with a bunch of quacks fresh out of some no name institute; these were some of the finest doctors her extensive wealth could buy. There was no use in denying or bargaining with it; all she could do was to accept her daughter was not the flawless manechuria doll she thought she was months ago when she first held her in her arms.
“So that’s it,” she found herself chuckling mirthlessly. “My daughter will be sick and feeble for her entire life.” She laughed again, trying to force some actual amusement. “And to think, she was supposed to be perfect...”
“We are terribly sorry--“
“SHE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE PERFECT!” she suddenly roared, her voice booming like thunder and she begun to pace up and down, not wanting to listen to their useless apologies. There were much bigger concerns on her mind. “How... how is she to one day succeed me as a strong leader of my people?! Sh-she’ll need to be cared for all the time! What about when there’s another war?!” She stopped, her eyes twitching left and right as her mind calculated something. She whirled and asked them briskly, “How long will she live for?”
“There’s no way of knowing that for certain,” the diamond dog shrugged tiredly. “Some larvae in this situation do not last long, but others grow up to live long and normal lives, relatively speaking.”
“Oh, you mean just like the rest of my children?!” she snarled acidly, pointing her hoof over their heads. “Leave me. All of you! I... need time alone.”
None of them needed to be told twice. In seconds, they had disappeared, pulling the door to the balcony securely shut in their wake.
Chrysalis screamed and slammed her hooves against the leg rest, leaving large indentations in the wood and concrete. She did not weep, but her low groans of pain expressed her internal torture well enough. All her plans, her hopes and dreams for her, Pupa and their dynasty had come crumbling down in one fell swoop. Not even the comforting glow of her great city could provide her solace now.
Pupa’s head rested limp on Chrysalis’ shoulder, her quiet breath tingling the Queen’s skin. Chrysalis kept her head away, trying to cry only on the pillows. She considered humming Pupa a lullaby, something to make her final sleep more comfortable, but was crushed to find she could not think of a single lullaby. Only a real sad excuse for a mother would fail to provide such a basic comfort.
She remembered Pupa’s folded up picture lodged in one of her holes. Taking it out and unfolding it, Chrysalis smiled upon the foalish crayon image: her and Pupa smiling together in a grassy field with the smiley-faced sun shining down over them, with the word ‘SORY’ written in big messy capitals. Any other changeling would mock such a poor doodle, but it was her baby’s work, and to Chrysalis, that made it priceless. She tucked it under Pupa’s lifeless foreleg where it would stay secure. It brought the tiniest of smiles to Chrysalis’ face, but reality wiped it clean off in no time.
She had done this.
She had done this to her child.
Her Pupa was in this bed, hanging onto life by a tether, not just because of one unfortunate incident of Chrysalis losing her temper, but because of the elder mare’s poisonous genes and utter negligence as a mother; she had no one to blame but herself. Who else could she blame? Cerci? For what, raising her daughter for her while she acted like she all but did not exist? Her father? For his years of neglecting her while he was busy waging his wars and thinking of new ways to rip out prisoners' teeth? Her mother? For not being around at all? Her husband?! She had some choice words for him, but what use would there be in blaming that useless buffoon now? No, the fault was hers and hers alone.
It had not been the same with her other children. No matter how much work she had on her plate, she always found time for them. She went out in the gardens with them, visited them in the play room, even come to kiss them goodnight. Had she done any of those things for Pupa?
How could she be so callous to her own flesh and blood? The thought of her actions these last several years gave her heartburn. Where she had given the rest the time of day, she had cast aside her youngest; and the mare’s heart tore in two. Pupa had not deserved this wrong.
The question she desperately tried to answer was why.
‘Because you just didn’t want to know,’ her father’s niggling, derisive voice returned to echo in her mind. ‘You knew she stood no chance the moment they told you the news. So you just detached yourself and let Cerci raise her as her own daughter in all but name. You simply didn’t care.’
“No,” she mouthed, scrunching up her muzzle, but her father’s voice, cruel and relentless, would not let up.
‘You gave up on her at only a few months old. At least with the rest you put something close resembling effort in. But you knew Pupa would never become the Queen you wanted to take your place when you’re gone, even if she survived that long. You gave up. It’s like she’s not even your daughter at all.’
Chrysalis whimpered pathetically, squeezing Pupa’s hoof. “What have I done?”
‘Don’t be too hard on yourself, Chrysi-chan. She was not meant long for this planet; you’ve only sped up the process.’
“Go away!” she yelled, no longer caring who heard. She pulled on her mane; the headache was coming back. Where were her pills?! She recalled she left them back in her chamber. She slapped herself. Idiot!
‘Oh, what, you’re going to cry some more? Like a wittle gwub? Is that it, gwub gwub?’
Chrysalis could do nothing else now but ride it out, and pulled Pupa into one more warm hug, so close together their hearts beat as one.
She did not see the moment’s flash of light, nor hear the sound of hard, metal hoofsteps clicking against the floor.
“Chrysalis?”
The Changeling Queen sat up before her name was finished being said. Her mouth and her narrow pupils shrunk down to size so much it would have looked comical if not for the all too serious situation. When she saw who it was, there were no words.
Princess Celestia did not know what to say. Her bewildered, blushing face read that she knew she had teleported in at a very bad time. Still, there was no turning back now.
“Um, I...”
Celestia did not get the chance to get halfway through her sentence when she was sent flying by a blinding green blast fired from the Queen’s horn.