> The Problem with Butterflies > by The Forgotten Comrade > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- > They Only Last the One Day > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chrysalis slipped, hoof sliding in the mud, and unable to correct herself collapsed. Her black carapace was thrown once more into the slime below, adding another cold, clinging layer of pasty gunk to her side.She lay there under the moon’s light, heaving in laboured breaths, as a light, mist-like drizzle drifted through the long grass around her. Not far enough. Equestria was still too close. To stop moving invited capture, courted death. Movement was the only respite from her pursuers. To that end she pushed a numb, shaking leg underneath her and forced herself upright. Eventually, she would reach safety. And then she could rest. Rest. She thought of it longingly, of curling around a fire to fight off the sickening chill that gathered around her. Of lying on solid ground, still beneath her and warm to the touch.  That the water and cold muck that dribbled down her sides would be washed clean. Most of all, it would be dry. Such simple wants that had become such great luxuries. Chrysalis shook her head, brushing aside such fantasies and put a hoof in front of her; swaying slightly as her vision darkened for a moment. Thinking about it would only make her weak. She just had to keep putting her hooves one in front of the other until she turned steps into lengths and eventually she would turn those lengths into miles. Then she could finally lay down her head and dream. But until then, she needed to continue her lonely slog through miles of mud. And so Chrysalis trudged on, even as her hooves sank into the ground and were dragged out to maintain her weary, plodding pace. She passed through several gloomy fields, each one more wet and miserable than the last. She ignored the houses, with inviting lights and smoking chimneys, that lingered on the edges of her vision. Each one teasing the cold numbness from her legs upwards to seep throughout her being and sap what little strength that still availed her. She pushed on, disregarding the growing aches in her legs.  She answered her weakness with greater force, pounding her hooves into the ground.  All to show that her resolve had not faded away along with the rain. A thin veneer to hide another failure in the making. Her gaze fell to her shaking before shifting to the vast expanse in front of her. The fields, both fair and fallow, under the faint illumination of the moon stretched onwards to the horizon. How many more miles would she have to run before she truly felt safe? Did it matter? She could keep running to the world’s end. She would still die alone, unable to reclaim what she had lost. And one grave was as good as another. Stories claimed that mighty oaks sprouted over the remains of fallen heroes. She wondered what would grow over her grave. Weeds, perhaps. Unbidden, the thought sprang to mind and Chrysalis gave a short, bitter bark of laughter. Fitting for a Queen of parasites. Even in death she could strangle a little more life from the world. Her thoughts grew more somber. Would her children visit her? Would they even care that she was gone? She closed her eyes, trembling. Sometimes it was better to not dwell on the answers to such questions. Instead she could remember the more pleasant times, even though her children chose to shun her. She could remember Echo, her dedication to the children. When she learned that young ones were hungry, she would traipse out grumbling about how needy they were. But Chrysalis had tasted her concern, no matter how much she tried to smother it. And Echo would always walk the rounds to make sure every nymph had their fill. She remembered the way Limp’s face lit up while he was flying, the light in his eyes and his smile. A genuine smile that she never saw among her children, all so frightened of her. But when Limp flew, he forgot all of that. Good days or bad, Limp would always smile when he flew. And such smiles were treasures, even if they had never been directed towards her. And Thorax… Thorax had talked to a tree. Such a childish thing. But then children were allowed to be childish. A few years of happiness before she had to beat the harsh realities of being a changeling into them. But Thorax had never really grown up. Longing for a friend so badly he talked to the only thing that would listen that his siblings couldn’t eat, break or steal. They mocked him mercilessly for it,  just as she had told them to, but he never gave up on talking to the tree. A braver changeling than they gave him credit for, brave enough to hope. A sob escaped her, clawing its way out. But now they were gone. She had failed them. The tears that had been building finally made their escape and began running down her snout. She let herself slowly drop to the ground, her numb legs all too eager to relieve themselves. Perhaps it would be for the best if she just lay down and closed her eyes. Let them go and continue with their lives without her shadow burdening them. To pass unmourned and leave the world all the happier by her departure. Chrysalis wiped at her eyes, a queen shouldn’t weep. She hadn’t said goodbye. Another failure of hers to add to the list then. If she had just been given one more day with her children. Just one. She could have finally told them she loved them. She would have told them that they should enjoy their new forms while they could. It would allow them live a full life in all its blazing glory. They could love, laugh and live in full measure. But the brighter the light, the faster the wick burned. Maybe some of them would have stayed if she had explained and.. ...had offered them a hard life, full of starvation and misery. After a lifetime of pain, even a day of of peace would seem worth any sacrifice. A hollowness emerged from her chest, slowly seeping throughout her being. No, she could not compete with the ponies. Anything that Chrysalis could offer would be dwarfed by even the most paltry pony gift. No, none of her children would have remained by her side. She turned her gaze upwards from the blades of grass around her and to the stars far beyond them. A cold array of twinkling lights scattered across the sky. Her father had told her that each star cared for the dying souls of a separate race and that one day when they were with the stars she could introduce her children to him. But now Chrysalis knew better. They were not some guardian angels watching over the world. The stars were the domain of the night and they already had a mistress. In some ways it was a comfort. Even if the wonder had been stolen, when it was over, the weight would be lifted from her shoulders and she would no longer feel have to feel the ache in her heart. She could just let go and fade away to nothing. A quiet, peaceful end. “Look after the little ones,” Chrysalis murmured, gazing up at the stars. A worthless gesture. The stars would neither bow to her nor could they relay her plea. Chrysalis let out a weary sigh before laying down her head, closing her eyes. At last, she could have her rest. And then something landed on the end of her snout. Even when she decided to leave the world alone, it came to take what little comfort she had. Chrysalis snorted, opening her eyes to give the offender a withering glare. Though its effect somewhat ruined by having to cross her eyes to focus on the offending butterfly perched there, cheerfully fluttering its wings. When the butterfly proved immune to her hard look, Chrysalis swatted at it. Dislodged, it flew to a nearby blade of grass where it waggled its pale, blue wings at her. Chrysalis swatted at it again. It moved to another piece of grass further. There shook its wings indignantly at Chrysalis before taking off and coming back towards her. “Shoo,” she tried to dismiss it, awkwardly waving her hoof at it. It dived past her hoof before coming up in a backwards loop. As Chrysalis prepared to swipe at the butterfly again it dived away from her. She stared at it incredulous as it proceeded to weave through the air in front of her, going into loops and spiraling dives. “Are you trying to-” Chrysalis cut herself short. It was madness to speak to an insect. But the butterfly stopped to hover and gave another merry waggle. The butterfly’s antennae gave an inquisitive wiggle. Chrysalis reluctantly stretched her hoof out to the butterfly. Slowly it flew its way back over to her, choosing to rest atop the proffered hoof. Its antennae twitching excitedly and familiar blue wings glimmered in the starlight. Beautiful. Free. Happy. Everything that was so insufferably pony. Chrysalis snarled as she drove her magic around the butterfly. Tearing off those wings that shone so brilliantly under the moon’s light, that so beautifully mocked her. Leaving them to float freely in the breeze, all of its fleeting glory torn away. Would ponies coo in delight if they could see it now? The beauty and grace they were so fond of fawning over torn away, leaving something nopony would admire and nopony could love. They were all liars! For all their prattle, the only things acceptable in their society were so colourful and bright. The helpless grubs that became such beauties received no praise, no compliments from neither scholar nor poet. But they could discuss the splendor that came after all day long. As if that was the only thing that mattered. She glared at the wriggling insect as she allowed it to try and crawl to safety. Then, as it approached the edge of her hoof, she pinched its legs off. Slowly, she squeezed each one at the base until they sprung free. One by one, all six came loose and were discarded. Everything that supported it, that protected it when it could not show its wonderful splendor. When it needed rest. What it needed to survive. She had stripped it all away, leaving the insect futilely grasping about for salvation. Chrysalis changed. That familiar, green flame rippled over her, burning away her black carapace and leaving behind a brilliant, silver coat. She watched as the fire, licking at the air, raced towards her upraised hoof. She watched as the flame closed in on the butterfly, rushing to consume the helpless insect. She smiled as it caught ablaze, its antennae frantically twitching in a mad dance to find a means of escape. A reprieve that would never come. Only knowing this agony before it finally reached the End’s bliss. Quickly, too quickly, those frantic twitches faded and what remained of its broken body began to blacken and shrivel, curling up as if could finally shield itself in death. Finally, she pressed her hoof into earth and ground what remained of the lifeless husk into ash. There would be no mistakes this time. She must be cold, calm and deliberate. Her impatience reined in. Nopony could be above notice, not this time. And once she had her children’s saviours in hoof then she would bring her wayward children to heel. But for now she needed to focus on more immediate concerns. Her gaze settled on a nearby home. The glow illuminating its windows had dimmed, indicating that its occupants were retiring for the night. Letting her fangs gleam wickedly, Chrysalis stretched and rolled her shoulders. Finally she would have a littlefun. And when she was done she could sleep in a warm, dry bed where she would dream ever so sweetly. Of watching Starlight burn!