A smile adorned the muzzle of the royal nymph, strolling through the glowing metropolis of the hive. Drones bowed as she passed by, filling her with even more delight. To her left walked her mother, Queen Duplicitia, the most beautiful queen the hive had ever seen. The nymph beamed at her, coming close to nuzzle her mothers’ legs as the smile was returned.
But she fell. Looking up, the nymph saw herself alone. No drones, no hive, no mother.
“Mother?” She called out, fear beginning to rise as she rose to her hooves. “Mother?!”
Something on the ground nearby caught her eye, and drew a gasp as she approached it. Before her lay her mother’s silver necklace, the angular heart losing its shine. She reached out to hold it but on an unfelt wind the necklace disintegrated. Tears began to well up in her eyes as the nymph watched what remained fly away into her suddenly dark surroundings.
And so she wept, alone in the dark.
“Mother…”
\ \~*~/ /
Chrysalis opened her eyes, the darkness of her dreams replaced by the now familiar sights of her wooden hut. Sunlight peaked through the blinds, dimly lighting the building. So quiet was the hut that Chrysalis eased herself into a sitting position before realising she wasn’t alone.
“Ah, Miss Chrysalis. Good to see you’re awake.”
Surprised, Chrysalis whipped her head around to locate her intruder, only to have pain flare in her neck, her wound stinging beneath the bandages.
“Easy now,” the voice said gently as it drew closer. “We don’t want you reopening that wound, now do we?”
When the pain subsided, Chrysalis look to the side of her bed to find a drone-sized changeling looking back, wearing a smile and a white coat with holes cut in the back for his wings. Like High Charity, he had individual features; silver-tinted stubble to match his short but maintained hair and dark emerald eyes that looked on from behind small glasses.
“Who are you?” Chrysalis asked, the pain subsiding. “Why are you here, and where is High Charity?”
“Ah, yes, how rude of me,” he replied, though it sounded more like he was talking to himself. “My name is Bypass, I’m the town’s chief physician. I was just checking on your injuries and how they’re healing. As for High, he’s attending to other matters in town. Believe it or not my dear, you aren’t the only thing he has to worry about.”
Chrysalis was about to chastise this doctor for his improper attitude when addressing nobility, but realised it was pointless. Bypass and High Charity sounded as though they were on good terms, so angering a friend of her warden wouldn’t bode well for her at this time.
“So… Doctor,” she asked, “How are my injuries?”
“At the moment?” He asked, sitting beside the bed. “Well, the scars on your neck will take a few days to heal, even with my healing spells. The dressing on your cheek should be fine to remove by tomorrow morning, though your foreleg will need to remain in that sling for at least another week, maybe two.”
“Two weeks?” Chrysalis asked exasperatedly.
“And then there’s your magic,” Bypass continued with a nod, ignoring her outburst. “Even with your larger wellspring, you burnt up almost all your reserves of magic. Another strenuous spell and you might not have survived. I’d recommend plenty of rest and emotion feeding, and not using any spell more complex than telekinesis for at least a month.”
“You expect me to be powerless for a month?” Chrysalis nearly yelled, the thought of being without magic terrifying her.
“It’s the only way your magic will return to what it used to be.” Bypass said with a neutral tone signalling no responses allowed. “Otherwise you’ll be as potent with magic as a newborn nymph.” Chrysalis grit her fangs, biting back her next argument. Bypass’ tone carried no hint of deception, yet it still stung the queen to feel powerless.
“I understand it might be… confronting to suddenly find yourself in this position,” he carried on, no doubt sensing her emotions. “While I’m not much of a therapist, should you feel the need to talk, I’m always willing to listen.
“Unfortunately though,” Bypass paused to look at a silver pocket watch he had pulled from his coat. “I’m afraid I have other appointments to attend to. I’ve left a few books here for you so you don’t go insane waiting to heal, and I’ll be back again in a few days for another check-up. Just remember; plenty of rest and emotion and no moderately strong magic.” With that, the doctor turned away.
“Wait.” Chrysalis called out, Bypass pausing with one hoof out the door. Immense shame flowed from Chrysalis like a flood, and no doubt he could sense this. She looked down, her eyes resting on her sling-bound foreleg. “Th-Thank you,” she softly muttered, “for tending to my wounds.”
She sensed a small spark of satisfaction, or was it happiness, emanate from Bypass. “No need to thank me. After all it’s my job.” Chrysalis looked back up at the physician to see a small smile, genuine in nature, adorn his face. “See you in a few days Chrysalis.”
With that, he was gone and Chrysalis was alone once more.
\ \~*~/ /
The next few hours passed by slowly for Chrysalis as the light that filtered through her windows moved across the floor. Her injuries gave her enough reason to remain in bed, yet she felt her sanity was being eaten away with all this inactivity. Her thoughts did crawl back to escaping multiple times, yet each time the cold logic of her predicament shot it down. Despite how loathe she was to admit it, High Charity was right; she wouldn’t last a day on her own in this condition.
So, to stave off insanity that little while longer, she turned her attention to the books Bypass had left for her. It had been a struggle to reach them despite their proximity on the table. If the doctor was to be believed about her magic, she didn’t want to risk any further damage over trying to levitate a few books. She read through the first two – one about a pony burdened with two souls and the other about three teenage ponies uncovering a conspiracy within ruins – up to the third chapter, the novels failing to capture her imagination. That left the final book; a moderately thin hardback book with a green cover and golden patterns on the cover and the title.
“The History of Safe Haven,” Chrysalis read it to herself. Perhaps this would supply her with the answers she longed for. But before she could open the book, a knock rattled the door. The noise made Chrysalis jump, eliciting a small sting from her neck wound and fresh internal chastising for herself.
“Hello?” A somewhat familiar feminine voice called out as the door opened. “I’ve brought you your meal.”
“Come in,” Chrysalis answered in a neutral tone, putting the book to the side. Throughout the day her stomach had ached, begging for sustenance. The first thing to appear through the door was a levitating tray that bore a bowl of steaming soup and fresh-looking fruit. But any critique of how mundane a meal this was died in her mouth when Chrysalis saw who had stepped in.
There, holding the tray in an aura of aqua-marine blue magic, stood a changeling unlike any Chrysalis had seen before. In fact, she thought the young nymph before her was permanently trapped in-between shifting forms. Her coat was a creamy white colour, and she wore her dark spring green mane in an intricately woven braid. Her mane and tail, along with her legs and insectoid wings, bore no holes, though there were the familiar circular indents in her fetlocks. Her horn, illuminated in the act of magic, bore only one circular indent at the front near the base. She looked at Chrysalis with eyes that matched the colour of her magic’s hue. Not the slit pupils of changelings, but pony eyes, the queen noted. And then there was the cutie mark; a jar containing some green substance within labelled with the image of a green leaf.
“Ah, good,” the newcomer said with a smile and what Chrysalis swore was genuine relief. “You’re awake. I was beginning to worry you’d never wake up.” The mare set the tray down on the table, but exuded odd curiosity when turning back to see Chrysalis just staring at her, apparently oblivious to the queen’s own confusion. “Um,” she went on, shaking away any nervousness, “My name’s Synthea. It’s nice to finally meet you properly.”
But still Chrysalis stared, her eyes analysing every strange aspect of her newest visitor. Noticing the scrutinising nature of Chrysalis’ gaze, Synthea nervously shifted her weight between her hooves. Chrysalis stopped, looking her in the eye as she finally spoke. “What are you?”
“Oh,” Synthea replied, surprise and relief the primary emotions radiating off of her. “Right. I keep forgetting. You’ve probably never seen anything like me before.
“Well,” she went on, bringing the chair over with her magic before taking a seat. “I’m what’s known as a Halfling. My mum was an earth pony, and you’ve already met my dad.”
Though the banter from Synthea was playful bordering on lecturing, Chrysalis finally realised where she had heard Synthea’s voice before, and what that meant. “You,” she said slowly with shock. “You’re… High Charity’s child?”
“Yep,” Synthea replied, oblivious or uncaring of Chrysalis’ shock at this revelation. “I have to say though, you’re really interesting.”
“Why?” Chrysalis nearly spat the response.
“Well,” Synthea sat back as she looked up in thought. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Dad so invested in a new arrival here. That, and I’ve never seen a changeling as tall as you. I have to ask; what’s your hive like? I’ve heard legends about it, but I’m sure it’s not as bad as everybody keeps saying, right?” It was only once she stopped talking that Synthea saw the firm frown now adorning Chrysalis’ features, felt the anger pulsating off of her in waves.
“Oh,” Synthea realised, shock and a tinge of humiliation released. “I’m sorry. I tend to ramble when I meet somebody new. Anyway, are you feeling up to feeding on emotions?” Chrysalis’ glare answered her question with the force of an earthquake.
“How dare you?” The queen hissed, Synthea’s expression finally revealing she picked up on Chrysalis’ feelings. “You dare offer me your pity, ask so casually about my hive, and expect me to feed off the emotions of a half-breed? How dare you and your father insult me this way!?”
Synthea, clearly hurt by this angry outburst, stood up from her seat and took a few steps back in fear. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know your hive was a touchy subject. Look, you don’t have to feed off of my emotions right now. How about some soup?” Synthea nervously took hold of the bowl in her magic once more, hovering it closer to the bed in an attempt to salvage this encounter.
Those hopes shattered like the bowl when Chrysalis smacked it out of her magical grasp, the crockery falling to the floor and breaking into pieces. The silence and tension within the cabin became palpable. Shocked, Synthea looked back up, staring down the barrel of the most vitriolic glare she’d seen in her life.
“Leave,” Chrysalis commanded, her voice devoid of all emotion save contempt and disgust. “And inform your father,” she venomously extended the word, “that I do not except charity from half-breed vermin.” All throughout Chrysalis’ bile-fuelled attack, Synthea had been backing towards the door, tears forming in her eyes. Fear and pain from the mare intoxicatingly flooded the cabin before she turned and ran, closing the door on her way out.
Chrysalis huffed, glad the vermin was gone but still infuriated at the airhead half-breed and her father… High Charity, she thought to herself. Even as a descendent of the Traitors, how could you do such a thing? A grumble from her stomach forced her to look down at the shattered bowl and the now spilled soup. For a moment, she almost regretted wasting it. It was a necessary sacrifice, however, to demonstrate to the young fool where her place was.
No more than ten minutes had passed before a burst of magic erupted in the centre of the cabin. Chrysalis lowered the foreleg shielding her from the sudden light and gust to see High Charity, all trace of civility and hospitality gone. In their place was an anger Chrysalis could tell he was struggling to control. He seemed to have a handle on it so far, though for how long that would last was uncertain. His horn alighted, slamming the lock on the door into place and then casting a spell that caused a small, numb ache within Chrysalis’ horn.
Sonus Vacuum, she realised. Known more commonly to ponies as a Silence Field, it ensured whatever happened inside the hut wouldn’t be seen or heard by anyone outside its walls. It actually pleased her to see her captor so unsettled. Had she known it was that easy to get under his chitin, she would’ve insulted him about his bastard child sooner.
“What did you say to Synthea?” High Charity asked, the disdain in his voice clear for all to hear.
“I simply told her the truth,” Chrysalis responded in a haughty manner, turning her muzzle at him. “I merely stated that, as a queen, I deserve to feed off of something better than a filthy half-breed.”
“That half-breed,” High Charity growled through gritted fangs, the word seemingly causing him pain to even say, “Is my daughter.”
“And that brings me to you, Traitor.” Chrysalis, riding the high of actually rattling High Charity, continued as she slowly worked her way out of bed and into a standing position. “Even with your status among the hive as a traitorous noble, to think you’d throw away what little pride and honour your family ties had left by mating with a pony and siring that vermin. I almost feel sorry for you.
“So,” she finished, now standing before him to her full height and looking down her muzzle at him. “What will you do now? If you’re as charitable as your name would suggest, you wouldn’t want me harmed now would you? That wouldn’t be very hospitable, would it? Or perhaps you’ll try to make me understand by introducing me to the filthy whore that you l-”
Chrysalis never got the chance to finish the insult, as a green hue of magic surrounded and paralysed her where she stood. Unable to move, she looked back to see High Charity staring at her with all the fury of a thousand angered dragons, his scarf and tail seemingly caught in an ethereal breeze. He lifted her slowly into the air as if she were a puppet, and stepped forward until their muzzles were inches away from each other. Even without looking into his now glowing emerald eyes, Chrysalis was nearly drowning in the intensity of High Charity’s anger.
“Mock me all you want,” he spoke with a tone as severe as his glare was fierce. “I’ve outgrown being hurt by insults aimed my way. But even my patience has limits. You will not say another bad word about my daughter. And I promise you Chrysalis; if you EVER say one uninformed, untrue word about my wife, I will escort you on a one way trip to the darkest corner of the Everfree Forest. And when I’m finished with you, the beasts living there would be lucky if there are any scraps left to feed off of. Am I understood?”
Chrysalis wasn’t given a chance to respond, as she was methodically floated back into her bed and held there as High Charity held his unrelenting glare. Whilst pinned to the bed, the magic surrounding High Charity’s horn intensified as it shaped itself into a blade twice as long as his horn and seemingly rippling with his anger. As hard as she tried to hide it, Chrysalis’ earlier confidence had evaporated, and looking into his eyes elicited a fear most primitive; fear for her life.
“You have two choices before you, Your Highness,” High Charity continued, contempt and sarcasm dripping from the title as his voice rose. “Either continue down this path towards oblivion you’ve set out for yourself, or pull that firmly lodged stick out of your plot and actually act like something other than a spoilt brat wearing a paper crown. Safe Haven isn’t a new hive where you can just treat everyone however you see fit. It’s a community, a family…” High Charity’s gaze momentarily drifted to the book on the bed opposite Chrysalis. “That book might actually part the clouds of arrogance in your lofty version of reality, and show you how changelings should live. Take that books teachings to heart and there might be a sliver of hope for you yet.”
With that High Charity let his blade vanish, turned and headed for the door, Chrysalis still pinned to the bed with his magic. But as he undid the lock he paused. “You should know,” he said, not looking back, “that out of all the ponies and changelings living here, Synthea was the only one to volunteer feeding you emotion. The only one. Let that sink in.” With that he left, slamming the door on his way out. It would be a few more minutes before he released his magical grip on Chrysalis, allowing her to sit up and catch her breath. For a few fleeting moments there, she genuinely thought he was going to kill her. That fact alone raised a question, a question she had asked herself when at her lowest following her defeat in Canterlot;
“Why?”
\ \~*~/ /
The light of morning sifted through the closed blinds, slowly illuminating the cabin. As motes of dust flitted in the light, Chrysalis groaned tiredly. The night had been a long and exhausting one. After High Charity effectively dismantled her pride like a cat toying with a mouse, she had spent the reminder of the night either painfully jolting awake from her continued nightmare or reliving the ordeal and the facts it gave rise to.
What now? She asked herself as she sat in her bed, staring down at nothing in particular. The question had haunted her almost as much as her dreams. High Charity was correct when saying Chrysalis wouldn’t last five minutes on her own right now, his barely contained fury the previous evening had been proof of that. It also proved she had nothing to gain by antagonising him. Any resources at her disposal were gifted to her by her hosts, and with her hive scattered to the winds she had no one to fight in her name should her host’s fury overpower his self-control.
And her continued existence brought back another question; why? If High Charity, and this whole town from what she gathered, despised her so, then why spare her? What could he hope to gain from stalling her execution? Over and over she pondered these questions until she noticed the book from the previous night, still resting on her bed where she’d left it. Perhaps he was right, Chrysalis thought, reaching for the tome.
Before she could reach it though, the door opened slowly. Chrysalis turned to see High Charity step in and, though he kept his face and emotions under control, Chrysalis couldn’t help but sense a small spark of anger, or was it frustration? He looked at her unemotionally for a moment before stepping to the side, allowing Synthea to meekly walk into the hut.
“I’ll be outside if you need me.” High Charity said as he spoke softly to his child, lightly kissing her on the temple. The brief moment of kindness vanished the second he looked back at Chrysalis, replaced instead by coldness and regret.
The next moment, the door closed and it was just the two of them. Silence settled uncomfortably in the air, though for Chrysalis this was dwarfed by Synthea’s ever-shifting emotions. There was hope and even a little self-doubt, but uncertainty and fear were the ones she kept coming back to. But as much as these emotions rolled off Synthea like waves, these were a mirror of Chrysalis’ emotions as well. She was uncertain how to proceed, of what to say. Should she even say anything? Never in her life had she faced a situation such as this. A master of social espionage and here she was struggling to find what to say to a young nymph/mare, or whatever she should be called.
“I-I,” Synthea mumbled, ending the silence. “I’m… I’m sorry, if I offended you yesterday. I understand if… if you don’t want me to feed you emotion anymore. After all, I know I’m…” With that, Synthea’s bowed her head, her shoulder trembling with tears set to burst as sadness and shame radiated out from her. “S-So,” she continued, sobbing. “If you don’t want me… want me around anymore… all you have to do, is say so, a-and you’ll… you’ll never see me again.”
The halfling looked up, tears streaming down her cheeks. The sight elicited a response Chrysalis never expected; her heartstrings tightened. Nothing was said as she held Synthea’s gaze for a moment before closing her eyes and turning her head. Synthea’s mouth opened, her hopes shattering like the bowl of soup the previous night. The tears came faster now, and she struggled to wipe them away before slowly getting up and turning for the door.
“Forgive me.”
The words froze Synthea in her tracks, her hoof inches from the door handle. Eyes widened in shock, she slowly turned back around to look at Chrysalis, still facing the wall beside her bed. Synthea remained still and silent, not wanting to interrupt.
“I…” Chrysalis struggled for the right words. “You asked what my hive was like, correct?” Synthea nodded, despite Chrysalis not turning her head to check. “I… I ascended to the throne during a time of great upheaval for the hive. I was forced to struggle, to fight, to obtain what was mine by birthright. Such trials ensured that, when I was done, I answered to no one. I was respected and feared in equal measure. I was queen.
“But that… that blinded me to what I had become. Now that my hive is scattered… I...” Chrysalis’ shoulders shuddered as she fought through the memories that had flooded back. “I can no longer expect to be respected, for what I have done to our kind.” It was then that Chrysalis finally looked back, and Synthea silently gasped at the sight of tears rolling down the changeling’s face.
“And I can no longer deny that my actions have terrible consequences…” Once more she looked away, shame rolling off of her in immeasurable quantities. “So, for what I said to you and your father… Forgive me.”
The silence returned, pressing heavily down upon the two. Chrysalis struggled to reign in her tears, trying to erase her perceived weakness with little success. But then something softly rested upon her right shoulder. Slowly, Chrysalis turned.
There stood Synthea, tears in her eyes but a small smile adorning her muzzle. Frozen with shock, Chrysalis remained immobile as Synthea clambered carefully onto the side of the bed, fixing the larger changeling in a gentle embrace. When she finally regained control of her limbs, Chrysalis hesitated for a moment before using her free foreleg to return the hug, resting her head on top of Synthea’s. As tears flowed down her face and remorseful but happy feelings mixed within the cabin, Chrysalis looked to the door to find it ajar, High Charity wearing a small but proud smile.
“Thank you,” Chrysalis whispered to both of them.