Chrysalis finds herself powerless. All she needs is a little kindness.
Changelings have never been able to experience love. They imitate it, consume it even, but never actually feel it. Chrysalis, trapped and powerless, learned the magic that is love. And not by the methods she had planned.
Three months since their queen had been defeated, and her forces banished by the power of sheer, unbridled love. An outburst of pure affection, arguably one of the most potent forces in Equestria. Years of planning, snuffed out in a single, spontaneous event spanning no more than a minute.
Chrysalis, and every Changeling below her, respected the power that had defeated her. Respected, not feared. It was against every principle that she had been taught to possess fear. The messages that had been hammered into her very being ever since her hatching. Fear was the first sign of weakness, a trait utterly unacceptable for a future queen.
Instead, Changelings learned respect, and hatred. More than suitable replacements for that ridiculous sentiment that the ponies held so dear. Love. Obviously powerless against the proud tribe that was the Changelings, but to be respected nonetheless.
Love was food. Sustenance. Essential for the very survival of the race. And yet it was also the Changelings’ greatest weakness.
Changelings had always been shunted to the side by their equestrian counterparts, even back in the times when their appearance hadn’t been so . . . repulsive. It had nothing to do with physical stature.
The Changelings were isolated because of their inability to love.
Evolution had long since taken its toll over the millennia. Their jealousy, hatred, and a fair amount of inbreeding had transformed the once-noble race of warriors into savage beasts, preying on ponies for their reservoirs of love.
Ever since, Changelings had been banished from Equestria, kept in check by the efforts of the Solar and Lunar Princesses.
Until a plan was formulated by Queen Chrysalis, the youngest queen ever to take the throne. A plan to satisfy her race’s hunger for decades.
Complications arose.
Chrysalis opened her eyes, gummed over from sleep, cursing the infernal sunlight that had caused her awakening. It filtered through the leaves overhead, throwing strips of gold across the small clearing that the Changeling queen had deigned worthy to be a viable resting place for her royal self. Puddles of light congealed on the soft carpet of fuzzy moss, signifying that the morning had arrived.
Chrysalis peeled her face off of the moss, yawning widely. She raised a serrated hoof to her face and swiped at the greenery and dirt that had congregated there during the night. It came away in clumps; she could imagine that her normally beautiful body looked less than appealing after living in the Everfree Forest for three months. The queen could practically feel the filth building up in her various holes, especially the large ones dotting her legs.
Struggling against the clinging ground, Chrysalis stood, barely able to keep her long legs stable. She exerted all the force that her frail being could muster, trying to keep her knees from trembling. Her lips curled back over clenched teeth.
The Changeling queen was weakened.
The reserves of consumable love that she had kept hidden inside of herself had run dry a week previous. Those reservoirs had been the only things keeping Chrysalis alive. If she was lucky, she had a day or two left.
Realizing her situation once again, Chrysalis collapsed in a tangle of spidery legs. The revelation that she’d not yet accepted caused her breath to falter. Flailing, trying to regain her balance, she tore several long grooves in the carpet of emerald moss, revealing stripes of brown soil underneath. Her inhalation came in ragged gasps, and with every exhalation, she expelled wispy clouds of vaporous phlegm.
This was by no means a dignified position for the queen to be spotted in.
Chrysalis froze. Her body was curled into what ponies would consider the fetal position. Not so for Changelings– their births occurred with an entirely different organization of limbs. She forced her mind to shut down all other functions and focus on her breathing.
The desperate gasps that racked the Changeling queen’s body slowly subsided, reverting back to the slow, shallow breathing that she had been forced to use in order to conserve energy. Her eyes were squeezed shut, but an opaque drop of liquid seeped out from beneath an eyelid and dropped lightly onto the moss.
Chrysalis was immediately appalled at herself– a queen does not display this kind of weakness, even when alone. It had been decades since she had shed a tear, but now it had felt warranted. She gritted her teeth, but her willpower crumbled into a mess of irreparable pieces and the fluids began to flow in earnest.
Silent sobs racked Chrysalis’s form, her pain and grief too deep for any articulation. Too deep to let even the smallest sound out of her mouth. Incapable of expressing her sadness vocally, she convulsed uncontrollably on the ground.
A sound snapped her out of her misery.
Singing.
Singing. A sweet, melodious strain, sung by a female with obvious natural talent. A pony, or something that sounded remarkably similar to one. Not too far from her current location, judging that the sound was barely even muffled.
For the first time, Chrysalis was glad that her sobs were silent.
There was time enough at a later date to mourn for her dismal situation. The current objective on Chrysalis’s to-do list was to locate the producer of the music. And eliminate it, after draining it of the reserves of love that all ponies carried around proudly. Like some absurd military badge, won for obscure reasons.
As silently as possible, Chrysalis arranged her hooves under herself in an attempt to stand, or even to crouch. At this point, she wasn’t too picky on which one. As she straightened her legs, a wave of blood rushed to the Changeling’s head, blinding her instantly and sending her downward. The amount of time she spent in a writhing heap on the ground was increasing by the minute.
The singing swelled– the source was nearing Chrysalis’s position. Mere steps away, she determined. The only thing separating the disabled queen from the carefree traveler was a mass of thick leaves clinging to the thin branches of a large bush. Mustering up all the remaining energy she still possessed, Chrysalis reached out with her front legs, gripping the moss as best she could with hooves. With a hulkantine effort, she dragged herself across the ground, carving a wide ditch where her body had passed. The first tug of her venture almost killed her on the spot. White-hot sparkles of pain danced across her vision, threatening to knock her forcibly from consciousness.
Not today, Chrysalis told herself grimly. Pain was a minor distraction; the prize would be the first meal she’d had in months. Enough to sustain her for the long journey back home. She bit her lip, allowing the taste of blood to fill her mouth. Once satisfied that the pain in her lip was enough to distract her from the agony across the rest of her body, Chrysalis resumed her endeavor.
The singing faltered. Not suddenly– the singer faded out until the vocalization was inaudible. The words– which Chrysalis had never been able to make out– diminished, but the singer continued to hum.
Chrysalis continued, painfully aware of the faint rustling that her lithe body was making as it scraped against the ground. In an attempt to be more aerodynamic, she flattened her papery wings against her back. The distance between her starting point and her destination had halved. A whopping two meters. And yet the miniscule accomplishment filled the Changeling queen with pride. Renewing her resolve, she dug into the ground with more ferocity.
Reaching the bush, Chrysalis peered through the low branches. Close enough now to see through the leaves and make out the appearance of her foe.
Chrysalis choked. The pony on the other side of this bush was remarkably familiar; Chrysalis had gotten used to the appearance of that pony. She had seen it every time she looked in a mirror. The guise that she had pulled off so perfectly, fooling even Celestia with her ingenuity and masterfulness.
Changelings had always possessed what could be considered as a sixth sense.
Some ponies claimed to be able to foresee events before they happened, or discern what somepony else was thinking. These sideshow talents had always attracted attention from the general public wishing to see something out supernatural, despite living in a world partially populated by magically-inclined unicorns whose talents far surpassed the unnatural tricks. And in the Changelings’ eyes, that was fine, but their own ability did not fall into any of the previous categories.
The exiled race had an eye for love.
Every pony possesses an invisible aura about them, signifying the strength of the love in their heart. That is, invisible to equestrians. Completely visible for Changelings, though, and cats, for some unfathomable reason. It ranged from a skin-tight glow, to an inferno that filled an entire room. Dusty grey, to vibrant pink. The particularly powerful ones, some ponies could even sense, for Celestia’s sake. Every pony had one, but some were simply not quite as loving as the Changelings would like them to be.
During her time in Canterlot, shrouded in the skin of Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, Chrysalis had learned to fully appreciate the usefulness of the aura. By discerning which ponies had the greatest reserves of pure love, it became remarkably easy to decide which citizen to make a meal out of. For instance, most of the guards stationed around the palace possessed very little adoration to spare; their auras barely cleared the outer shell of their golden armor. Hardly a worthy meal for a hungry queen. Some of the princesses’ personal servants, however, were literally glowing with violet or malachite admiration. Much more desirable. Much more delicious.
Thus far, the most powerful auras Chrysalis had yet to witness had been those of Princess Celestia, and her faithful student, Twilight Sparkle. The diminutive lavender pony with an uncanny knack for magic had been unexpected, and had ultimately led to the queen’s downfall. It had taken Chrysalis all the willpower she had not to brutally drain Shining Armor’s little sister’s life force upon her arrival. Something about her had made Chrysalis uneasy, but she couldn’t very well act on her suspicion without making the general public uneasy.
And subtlety was the essence of her scheme.
Chrysalis peered through the thick undergrowth with narrowed eyes. The despicable pink alicorn had bent down to thrust her snout into a particularly vibrant magenta flower. The whistling sound of her inhalation reached the Changeling’s ears. Anger filled her being, hatred toward the pony in front of her. The pony who had played a key part in her banishment. Inadvertently, a low, menacing growl sounded in the back of Chrysalis’s throat; a buildup of sheer animosity that she could no longer contain.
Alarmed, Cadance’s head shot back from the flower, her eyes wide and darting from side to side. Seeing nobody, she lowered her center of gravity cautiously, ready to attack, or retreat, if necessary. “Hello?” she called. “Is anypony there?” Her sharp horn glowed menacingly, but the bearer hardly looked prepared to skewer anypony.
Something clicked in the back of Chrysalis’s mind. A suppressed filter over her vision that she had completely forgotten about snapped to life. The Changeling queen’s eyes slid out of focus, then back in. And something fundamental had changed about her field of view.
The aura.
Cadance’s wraith of love was unlike anything Chrysalis had ever seen. The glow burst away from its owner, shining like a celestial beacon, reaching for the heavens and encompassing everything in between. Warm gold in color, the waves buffeted Chrysalis, sending her reeling, prismatic spots dancing across her field of vision.
The floundering Changeling crashed partially through the bush, getting her midsection caught on the spear-like branches. Several pinpricks of pain stabbed her stomach and legs, the twigs poking into her soft skin. A thin coating of leaves alighted on her head, tangling with her stringy mane and impaling themselves on her crooked horn. Chrysalis continued to writhe, throwing herself out of the bush and landing once more in a heap on the ground.
Upside-down, Chrysalis looked up, peering through the hair that had fallen into her eyes, now thickly matted with foliage, to view the cause of her . . . episode.
Cadance didn’t look frightened; the alarmed expression on her face was simply of surprise. The sudden appearance of the queen of the Changelings barely even fazed her. If Chrysalis wasn’t in such a compromising position, she would have been offended beyond belief. The sheer nerve of the uppity princess; she should have been on the ground, cowering behind her golden-booted hooves.
“Chrysalis?” Cadance asked tentatively. Her voice was musical and tender, just as Chrysalis remembered, but it also held a hard undertone; this was not the swooningly helpless princess from foals’ storybooks. Not waiting in some remote tower, waiting for a valiant stallion to come and rescue her. Ironically for her husband, Shining Armor, it had turned out to be the exact opposite for him. Cadance knew how to hold her own.
The queen didn’t respond . She didn’t dignify her opponent with the honor of hearing her melodious voice. Instead, Chrysalis narrowed her eyes to threatening slits, giving the princess the dirtiest look she could muster. It didn’t help that her stomach was writhing like a tangled mass of Hydra heads. It was also making just about as much noise as the creature as well, now that she considered it. It was most uncomfortable for the queen, and it contorted her face from a glare to a pained grimace, ruining her threatening image.
“Are you . . . okay?” Cadance inquired cautiously. Chrysalis met her gaze evenly, but on the inside, the Changeling’s mind was racing. Searching for possible ways to escape in her weakened state. Analyzing the turquoise glow around the alicorn’s horn, and wondering if Cadance was prepared to use lethal force. And most importantly . . . bewildering over, what seemed to be, genuine concern for Chrysalis’s well-being.
Chrysalis hissed like a cat, a defense mechanism that both species had utilized for centuries. As the noise escaped her, several flecks of saliva shot off of her pointed teeth and spattered on the ground.
Unfortunately, Cadance didn’t seem fazed in the slightest by the outburst.
Chrysalis’s stomach gave a particularly unpleasant lurch, and she felt bile rising in her throat, unpleasantly hot and acidic. The Changeling barely had time to turn to the side before releasing the contents of her stomach in a violent fountain. The substance was poisonous green, and fizzled upon impacting the ground. The pungent stench of decaying body wastes permeated the air, sour and stinging.
“Chrysalis!” Cadance yelped. She trotted to the Changeling’s side and reached out with a gilded hoof, attempting to offer help. Or consolation. Chrysalis wasn’t prepared to accept either.
“Get back!” Chrysalis rasped, bile dripping from her chin in thin ropes. “I don’t . . . want your help . . . Cadance.” She spat the last word, accompanied by a globule of dense phlegm.
“Regardless of whether you want it or not, you’re coming with me. You don’t look well at all.” Cadance pushed aside Chrysalis’s feebly waving forelegs and hauled her to her hooves, much to the queen’s protest. “I can get you back to Ponyville. I can help you there.” She led the protesting queen along, half guiding, and half dragging.
“Unhoof me!”
“No.”
Chrysalis was too weak to struggle against her captor. Her willpower had far from crumbled, but her body was not prepared to act on her intentions. If she had been at full strength, the prissy princess wouldn’t have been able to get near her, let alone drag her away from her makeshift home like a ragdoll.
In order to avoid at least some of the humiliation of the situation, Chrysalis steadied her hooves, and moved them in the faint semblance of walking. Just to make herself feel like less of an invalid, which was basically what she was. And she hated it. Every minute. And being dragged around by a being that was about half her size, and bright pink in color, was doing little to boost her pride.
So Chrysalis was left to intone meaningless muttered threats, to which Cadance responded with determined silence. The princess was clearly stronger than she looked, for she was supporting close to the entire body mass of the Changeling. Admittedly, Chrysalis was much lighter than she appeared–Changelings as a species had less dense muscles and lighter bones than ponies–but still a reasonable effort for the average mare, even with the increased stature of an alicorn.
The light filtering through the trees gradually became more consistent, less patchy. Chrysalis’s heart rate accelerated. The outskirts of the Everfree were approaching fast, and once out of the shelter of the tall, wide trees, she would be on display for every citizen of Ponyville to see.
“I . . . will not . . . go out there,” Chrysalis said, as firmly as she could in her feeble state.
“We won’t go through the town,” Cadance assured her. “Me and Shining are on our honeymoon. We’re staying in a cottage out of eyesight of the rest of the town. We won’t have to pass anypony on our way there.”
“No.”
“‘No’ what?”
“Just . . . no.”
“Tough luck, sister. You’ve made it this far. I won’t have you chickening out now.”
“Mind you . . . I didn’t actually ask to be brought this far.”
“Suck it up. You need help.”
“False.”
“As compelling as your argument is, we need to get moving. I can practically feel you dying right now.”
The cottage that the newly-married royal couple had chosen to stay in was a quaint, red brick structure with a long, meandering path through an overgrown front yard leading to the front door, which was adorned by a brass door-knocker in the shape of a phoenix head. A thin chimney protruding from the roof, belching cinereal smoke. And as Cadance had mentioned, it was far away from the town. Far out of range of curious, prying eyes.
Cadance led Chrysalis up the cobblestone path, her captor being helpful not in the least. The Changeling hung like a sack of apples from Cadance’s grasp, mulling over her overwhelming abhorrence toward the salmon-colored princess. For the past hundred meters, Chrysalis had been digging her fangs into her lower lip, and now detected the metallic taste of blood in her mouth.
Cadance stared at the front door for a moment, wondering how in the name of Celestia she was going to get inside with the weakened Changeling weighing her down. With her hooves otherwise occupied, she reached out and grasped the ring of the phoenix knocker between her teeth and rapped it sharply against the designated metal stud below it. Once, then twice, the ringing cacophony sure to attract the attention of the stallion inside the house. “I hope he’s not asleep,” Cadance said cheerfully, beaming.
“Is that likely?” Chrysalis muttered her response.
Cadance shrugged as best she could with a semi-dead Changeling queen wrapped around her shoulders, while still retaining her smile. “I did keep him up past his bedtime last night, so there’s no guarantee that he’ll be awake before noon.” The alicorn knocked again, more insistent this time. This time, several denizens of Ponyville might have heard the racket.
A muffled call sounded from inside the house. Too faint to make out words, Chrysalis could only determine that it belonged to a stallion; Shining Armor, most likely. The intonation was followed by brisk, heavy hoofsteps, increasing in volume as they approached the door. “Cadance, the door’s unlocked.” The voice was much clearer now, with only a thin slab of wood acting as an impediment for the speaker. “Why did you knock?”
“Hooves are full, dear,” Cadance called out to her husband. “Could you get it for me?”
“Absolutely.”
The door swung inward, revealing the smiling face of Shining Armor. Indeed, he did look like he had just rolled out of bed; his blue mane was half vertical, two-thirds horizontal, and six-eighth’s bursting past the third dimension into uncharted territory. His cobalt eyes were rimmed with an unbecoming pink, adding to an overall sense of unprofessionalism.
As soon as the door was fully opened, Shining Armor’s grin slipped off his face, replaced by a look of horrified shock. He recoiled back into the house, one hoof elevated in fright. “Cadance!” he wailed. “What is she doing here!” Chrysalis smiled weakly at his discomfort.
Cadance beamed widely. “I found her in the Everfree forest! Can we keep her?”
The captain of the guard mouthed wordlessly, bearing a striking resemblance to a beached fish. His eyes, sleepy before, were wide and staring, taking in every inch of the dilapidated creature before him. “W-what?” he stammered.
“She’s not doing that well, I’m going to help her out.”
“. . . What?”
“Shining, could you step aside to let us in? Chrysalis needs to get into bed as soon as possible. She’s barely coping as it is.”
“Not true,” Chrysalis protested quietly.
“Cadance!” Shining Armor stood resolutely. No matter the reasons, he was not prepared to allow a Changeling access to his house. “Do you realize who it is we’re talking about here? Do you know what she did to you? To me?” he added for emphasis. “And you want to nurse her back to health?” His face had moved past fright, to utter bewilderment. His eyes flitted to Chrysalis’s sagging face, and she bared her fangs menacingly, narrowing her eyes and hissing. Cadance dug a sharp elbow into Chrysalis’s ribs.
“Not helping our case, Chrysalis,” the princess said. “Be nice.”
“Allow me to remind you . . .” Chrysalis took a deep breath, the single statement robbing her of all air. Oxygen flooded her being, and she immediately utilized it to finish her sentence. “I don’t even want to be here.”
“Shut up.”
Chrysalis exhaled in exasperation, and immediately regretted it: her oxygen reserves, recently replenished, drained out of her lungs in an instant. It left her choking, struggling for air.
Cadance ignored the gasping Changeling next to her. “Shining, honestly. I don’t remember you to be a grudge-holding type of guy.”
“Because I’m normally not! If I was, I never would have made it through foalhood with Twilight! But this . . .”
“It’s no different.”
“Of course it is! She trapped you in the Canterlot caverns and invaded Canterlot with an army of Changelings! This isn’t like Twily stealing my toys! What makes you think that when she’s back to full health, she won’t try to do it again?” Shining Armor gestured widely at nothing, his discomfort apparent in his body language. “How did you even find her?”
“Oh, she wouldn’t do anything like that . . .” Cadance’s grip around Chrysalis tightened in an affectionate hug. The Changeling would have protested the action, but her limbs were constricted against her body, and there wasn’t enough air in her being to articulate words. Their cheeks met, Cadance’s soft and warm against Chrysalis’s. “By the time that she’s back on her hooves, we’ll have such a strong, sisterly bond, that she wouldn’t dare do anything against me!”
“Cadenza . . .” Chrysalis warned.
“Cadance,” the princess corrected.
Chrysalis glared at her captor as best she could with their faces pressed together. Cadance’s infernal cheeriness was unbearable. Logically, she should be furious; Chrysalis had indeed sabotaged her wedding and attempted to invade the capital of Equestria. Cadance had every reason to despise the queen, and yet here she was, Tartarus-bent upon healing her.
It confused the Changeling.
Cadance peeled her face off of Chrysalis’s, taking with her a layer of sticky fluid whose origin Chrysalis was not entirely sure of. With the amount of bodily wastes she had been excreting during the day, she lost track of which liquid came from where.
At the sight of what appeared to be a green amoeba clinging onto his bride’s face, Shining Armor paled, what seemed to be an impossible feat for the white unicorn. His coat no longer looked like the proud alabaster he normally wore. It now seemed unhealthy, chalky. Most unbecoming. “But . . .” he started.
“No buts.”
"But . . .”
“Please? I want to do this, Shiny. Please?” Cadance looked up with wide, pleading eyes, sticking out her lower lip to increase her chances of success.
“No.”
“Please?”
“No!”
“Then what do you want me to do with her?” Cadance’s voice rose an octave. “Leave her out in the cold? To starve?”
Shining Armor’s armor appeared to be breaking up. Cadance had targeted the weak chinks, gradually tearing his shell apart from the inside out. His instincts still strongly suggested against letting the creature into the house, but his wife’s desperate pleading appealed to his better nature. The conflict raged behind his eyes, and Chrysalis picked up on every bit of it.
“Fine.” The single word, signifying that his adoration for Cadance had won out over his logical half. That he was prepared to allow a Changeling lodgings in his home, however grudgingly it might be. The look that he gave Chrysalis was a warning: he had allowed her a place to stay, but there will be no funny business. Even the slightest hint of her old ways would result in her being thrown out of the house headfirst.
“Thank you so much, Shiny!” Cadance dropped Chrysalis, who collapsed into a tangle of spindly limbs, and rushed to embrace Shining Armor. As the pink forelegs wrapped around his neck, the stallion’s prominent scowl faded slightly. “I promise, this won’t blow up in our faces!”
“That’s comforting,” Shining Armor muttered.
A muffled groan brought all attention back to the resident Changeling, who was currently facedown on the cobblestone, with no energy even to turn her head to spit out the dust that had coated her tongue. Her eyes were free though, and she made out a look of poorly-concealed mirth on Shining Armor’s face. Despite his reservations, he was prepared to honor his wife’s intentions. But that didn’t mean that he was going to make Chrysalis’s life easy.
Shining Armor’s long horn illuminated turquoise. A warm blanket of magical energy washed over Chrysalis, consuming and engulfing her. She felt herself being lifted off the ground. Her long legs dangled as she hung limp, any last reserves of energy she had been living off of completely gone now. Without any forewarning, the unicorn thrust Chrysalis into the house, the sudden movement jarring her drooping eyes open.
Chrysalis’s vision fogged. Mercifully, her consciousness slipped from her, leaving her to peacefully meander a wide, black landscape, undisturbed by neither Shining Armor or Princess Cadance.
The Changeling’s blissful slumber was erased. Slowly, at her own pace. No external stimulants to jar her out of it suddenly.
The feeling was glorious. It had been so long since Chrysalis had been able to sleep on something that was actually soft, and it had done wonders for her back. Her head was cushioned on something that was made most likely of no less than the finest of clouds.
The sensation was almost enough to make the hardened queen smile. Genuinely for a change.
Then the emptiness returned.
The angry beast, clawing at her insides mercilessly. The horrible feeling of having absolutely nothing. And yet that “nothing” was causing her so much pain. She felt periodic stabs from her organs, informing her unnecessarily that they were hungry.
A particularly bad bout of clawing made Chrysalis gasp, her eyes snapping open.
The room that she had awoken in was unfamiliar, and yet it made her feel like she’d been living in it her entire life. The space itself was unremarkable; simply wallpaper, wooden planks for flooring, furnished only with the bed that Chrysalis was currently occupying, and an end table.
“How are you doing?”
The tender voice, layered with so much genuine concern, caused Chrysalis’s eyes to dart to the side to search for the origin. Apparently, she had a visitor.
Cadance sat next to the bed, a ceramic bowl of soup hovering next to her head, accompanied by a long spoon. She wore a wide, comforting, motherly smile. “Did you have a nice rest?”
Chrysalis didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Her mental facilities were not yet fully operating, nowhere near the concentration it would take to formulate words and excrete them in a manner that was interpretable.
“Do you . . . need anything?” The bowl hovered a few inches closer to the dilapidated, bedridden queen. “I have some soup, if you wanted.”
“Water,” Chrysalis rasped. One word answers would have to suffice.
From seemingly out of nowhere, Cadance conjured a tall glass, filled to the brim with clear, tasteless liquid. In other words, liquid gold. Greedily, Chrysalis raised her head, mouth gaping. Cadance positioned the glass in front of the Changeling’s face. The queen thrust her snout into the magical skin surrounding the object, the sudden warmness tickling her nose and making her want to sneeze. She forced down that desire and began to drink.
“Anything else?” Cadance offered.
Chrysalis considered. Food was optional; Changelings did not need it to survive. When they did eat, it was for the novelty of it. Not for sustenance. No, what the queen needed was a source of love. “A kitten.”
“What?”
"Kitten. Young cat."
Cadance smiled confusedly. “If you say so. I know a pony who might be able to supply one. Out of the goodness of my heart, I’m not even going to ask what you’re going to do with it. Is that all?”
Chrysalis nodded, and Cadance left her alone once more.
Left to drift back into sleep, but not nearly as blissful as her previous rest had been. Teeming with unsettling dreams and constant awakenings, Chrysalis’s desideratum for peace was not fulfilled.
Part of the reason that the Changelings as a race had been isolated from the equestrian population was the fear factor that they oozed so apparently, the unsettling fact that they captured their prey and basically drained them of their life force. Myths swirled around the species, as to their feeding methods. Some thought that they sucked love out from the mouth, while others retained a firm belief that they extracted it from the neck like vamponies.
None of the theories held any merit; the Changelings’ actual dining habits were not quite so romantic. There was no blood, no forcible extraction. Nothing that would constitute a good bedtime story.
Changelings got their life force by fooling their prey into loving them.
Evolution had given them the ability to copy another creature’s likeness, accurate down to the last cell, in order for them to feed. Contrary to popular belief, Changelings were not a mindless race of savages; some spent weeks at a time studying their targets, learning them from the inside out. Their methods were far from crude. Learning who the ponies were attracted to. Once the Changeling had taken the loved one’s place, and lulled the victim into a false sense of security, it gradually begun to feed on the love that emanated from its new “partner” in a non-corrosive manner. The pony would walk away from the relationship none the wiser.
Unfortunately, the rumors had carried on throughout the centuries, firmly implanting a deep-rooted fear of the exiled race.
But apparently, Princess Cadance couldn’t care less about Chrysalis’s reputation.
Chrysalis stared at the creature before her, willing it to bend under her gaze. Her poisonous green reptilian eyes bored into the animal, burrowing deep into its very soul and forcing it to comply to her every whim. In mere seconds, she had it completely under her command, a mindless slave awaiting orders from its new master.
That was the theory, anyway.
Opalescence was having nothing to do with it.
The infernal feline simply sat at the foot of the bed, gazing at the Changeling disinterestedly. Every now and then, it raised a paw to its mouth and gave it a contented lick. It’s boredom was apparent, despite the limited facial expressions available for the species. Chrysalis surveyed the cat cryptically; she couldn’t decide if the fluff was because of fat, or simply an excess of fur.
“Love me.”
The statement would normally have been finely layered with a mixture of contempt and fiery assertiveness, compelling almost anything to comply to the Changeling’s every command. In Chrysalis’s dilapidated state, however, she could only manage to sound feebly helpless.
“Please?”
Being polite hardly helped Chrysalis’s cause; it only made her sound weaker. The queen hadn’t ascended the ranks of the Changelings simply by being nice to them. Hard sweat, no tears. Suck up any discomfort and power on. No weakness. No softening.
Opalescence turned in a slow circle, and plopped down on the bed clothes, purring. Her eyes squeezed shut and her breathing slowed. Evidently finding the Changeling queen disinteresting, she had simply taken the easy way out and gone to sleep. Chrysalis spewed out a string of muttered oaths, raspy because of her aching throat. She made an attempt to kick the cat from under the covers, but the limb that she had instructed to carry out the action could only manage a delicate twitch.
The sound of dainty hoofsteps reached the Changeling’s ears, approaching the closed door to her adopted room, deafeningly loud compared to the serene silence in which she had been languishing in. Chrysalis tensed as the cacophony reached a crescendo, then ending as they reached the door. With a long, drawn-out creak that grated against her worn eardrums, the wooden slab that isolated her from the rest of the world swiveled outward, revealing a smiling Cadance.
Weary hatred coursed through Chrysalis’s being, aimed with certainty towards the figure silhouetted in the doorway. A bubbling pit of animosity churned within the queen’s being, filling her up to the brim with abhorrence.
“How’s it going?” Cadance inquired cheerily, sisterly.
“Not well,” Chrysalis replied bitterly.
Cadance frowned, showing legitimate concern in the revelation, in Chrysalis’s well-being. Her eyes found the slumbering feline at the foot of the bed. “Is Opalescence being less than helpful? I’m sorry. You asked for a cat, and the first pony I thought of who could help was Rarity. I should have gone to Fluttershy; she has at least a dozen kittens I could have picked from.”
Chrysalis grunted in response, an undignified intonation that she was utilizing much more frequently now, given her inability to communicate adequately with words. She put as much annoyance and distrust into the grunt as she could, forcing her dislike upon the alicorn across from her.
“What were you going to do to her?” Cadance asked. “I mean . . . if you don’t mind me asking. I’ve always been a bit curious about how Changelings actually eat, ever since . . . well, you know.” Cadance shuffled her hooves uneasily, having trodden onto a subject that was sensitive on both ends. Her eyes locked on the floor. “But you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I mean, if it’s a secret . . .” she finished awkwardly.
Chrysalis stared blankly. “Okay.”
Cadance perked up, her face popping back up to meet Chrysalis’s eye level, her violet eyes wide and excited. “Really?”
“Yes.”
Cadance bounced to the Changeling’s side, her enthusiasm dominating her features. She looked closely at her, a curious grin on her face. “Do you do it through the neck? Like, with your fangs? Auntie Luna told me that you sucked the love out like that, but I thought that she was just kidding. Is is true?”
“No.”
“Oh . . . right. I thought is was a little far-fetched. Luna was probably just messing with me.” Cadance looked vaguely disappointed that her notion had been dismissed, but she bounced back with just as much enthusiasm. “Is it with magic, then? Twilight told me that she saw me . . . you . . . using some sort of green magic that made his eyes go like this . . .” She thrusted her face close to Chrysalis’s, with barely an inch of air between them, and twirled her bulging eyes in wide circles.
Chrysalis jerked back, accidentally banging her head on the headboard and accentuating her prominent headache. “No,” she repeated, rubbing the back of her cranium.
“Then what was that?” Cadance wondered.
“Not feeding . . .” Chrysalis rasped. “Weakening. So he’d be more . . . compliant.”
Cadance cringed. The memory that her husband had been turned into a mindless zombie by the Changeling queen had been repressed, but now surfaced painfully. “Right. Got it.” Mercifully, she withdrew her face from Chrysalis’s. “If it’s not by magic, then how do you do it?”
“Affection.”
“Explain.”
“We need an indication that the target loves us. That’s why we transform . . . so ponies are more relaxed around us.”
“That’s why you asked for a kitten.”
“So it could love me.”
Cadance laughed humorlessly. “I really shouldn’t have brought Opal.” At the sound of her name, the cat stirred, opening a bleary eye and pointing it in the princess’s direction. Cadance ran a hoof across her back soothingly, giving her an excuse to close her eyes again. The vibrations emanating from the cat deepened in pitch, signifying her contentedness. “There aren’t many cats who are less loving than this one. Don’t tell Rarity that I said that, though,” she added.
“Do I look like I would even want to talk to Rarity?”
Cadance giggled. “No. I guess not.” She continued to pet Opal. Her love towards the despicable creature was apparent, even though she had just been saying how abominable it was. “Should I get another kitten?”
“No . . . don’t want kittens.”
“Then how are you going to get better?”
Chrysalis didn’t respond. She didn’t know. And she hated not knowing.
“You just need somepony to love you?”
Chrysalis gazed at Cadance uneasily. The use of the word “somepony” sounded ominous. “Yes,” she replied cautiously.
“Well . . .” Cadance met the Changeling’s gaze shyly. “I love you.”
Chrysalis’s jaw hung slack, not out of amazement, but of surprise. Cadance had said it so easily, so confidently; her body language was uncomfortable, but her voice was assertive. She was perfectly comfortable revealing the tidbit of information.
“I mean . . . not like that,” Cadance corrected herself immediately. “I’m married, and I’m not . . . well . . .” She cut herself off, flustered.
“I see,” Chrysalis said simply, evenly.
“So . . . could I . . .you know . . . help?”
Chrysalis, despite her aversion to admitting it, was running out of options, to the point of having only one. And that prospect was impossible, unbearable. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she decided to go through with it; she was a picky eater, and an old enemy would not be a desirable addition to her meager diet. “No.”
“Why not?”
Chrysalis mustered up whatever energy she still retained, and forced it into her voice box. “Because I hate you, Cadenza!” she shrieked. “I don’t want anything you have to offer! I don’t want your love inside me, I don’t want . . .”
Chrysalis was cut off by a mass of pink enveloping her. Cadance had thrown her forelegs around the Changeling’s neck and buried her face in her sticky green mane. The warmth of the hug pressed against Chrysalis’s core, warming her up, faster and faster. Stronger by the second.
Something clicked.
Then the explosion.
A vibrantly gold shockwave radiated out from Chrysalis’s heart, blasting Cadance away from her, and shocking Opalescence back into the world of the living. The cat hissed and darted under the bed, while Cadance slid down the wall and slumped on the floor, eyes half-closed. The air was metallic; electricity danced across the room in thin tendrils of spiky yellow illumination. Chrysalis’s mouth gaped open, light radiating from the back of her throat. Her eyes, open to their widest extent, were solid gold. Warm radiations of opaque energy swirled around her form, writhing in an unorganized cavortion.
Chrysalis felt something. Something stirring deep within her, an alien feeling that she had never experienced, and never planned to.
Queen Chrysalis was shoved into a porcelain vat of steaming, soapy water, much to her disdain. The resulting splash thoroughly soaked the entire room, including the instigator of the action: Princess Cadance. “Hey!” the pink alicorn cried in mocking indignation. She laughed jovially, shaking herself like a wet dog and sending tiny, prismatic droplets scattering across the already-damp tiling.
Chrysalis’s head broke the surface of the bathtub, immediately drawing in a lungful of water-laced oxygen. The unwelcome liquid was expelled from her airways in a violent fit of coughing, and further accentuated the general sopping feeling of the bathroom. Once certain that every last drop of water had been cleared, she shot a venomous look at Cadance, who was still giggling contentedly as she wrung out her multicolored mane.
“I am perfectly capable of helping myself into the bath, thank you,” Chrysalis said pointedly. Now having regained some of her strength, she was once again able to talk fluently, and perform a sort of feeble limp that she utilized to transport herself from place to place. However, the overexposure to the sheer, unfiltered power of pure love had confused her system, and she was still trying to adapt to it. To find a way to absorb the sustenance in such a concentrated amount. “I do not desire any further assistance from you.”
Cadance’s horn lit up and a globule of turquoise magic reached around a particularly thick clump of bubbles. The suds lifted into the air, and propelled themselves into Chrysalis’s face, causing her to break down into another fit of sputtering.
“Well, I’m afraid you’re going to have to put up with me for a little while longer, until you’re back up and kicking.” Cadance’s magic released the foamy projectile and moved over to a bottle of vibrantly pink shampoo resting next to the sink. It rocketed across the room, positioning itself above the compromised Changeling’s head. Ignoring Chrysalis’s protests, Cadance upended the bottle, sending a thick stream of fluid cascading down the queen’s mane.
“Get away from me, you fiend!” Chrysalis tried to bat away the floating bottle. When she raised her hooves out of the water, liquid poured in droves out of the baseball-sized holes adorning her legs.
“I’m sorry, but we need to get you clean somehow!” Cadance’s magic took hold of Chrysalis’s serrated mane, rubbing the soap in, almost viciously. “Let me tell you, sleeping in the Everfree Forest for a few months didn’t do anything for your looks.”
“Does it appear as though I give a flying feather about my appearance?”
“Admittedly, no. But I can’t just let you go looking like you’ve been dragged across Froggy-Bottom Bog by the Hydra.”
Chrysalis opened her mouth to make a witty retort, despite having no idea what Cadance was talking about, but was interrupted by a particularly powerful shove on the top of her head, thrusting her under the water and filling her lungs with water once again. The stinging liquid found a way into her eyes and nose, and she forced her way back up to the surface to meet the gaze of a smugly innocent-looking Cadance.
If not for the dampness of the room, the uppity princess would have been lit ablaze by the intensity of the glare from Chrysalis.
Cadance’s contentedness faded a bit as she continued to do battle with the tangled labyrinth of stringy hairs that adorned the Changeling’s head. The conflict was intense, and the princess rapidly began to be overpowered by the hair’s irresolute desire to remain unkempt. Her bouts against the mane became gradually more violent, and soon, Chrysalis was wincing with every attack.
“Stop! Sufficient!” Chrysalis finally snarled. “You are fighting a losing battle, so let me be!”
Cadance withdrew, slumping against the edge of the bathtub. She reached behind her head and rubbed gingerly; she was still sore from Chrysalis’s earlier explosion, where her head had hit the wall.
“Fine. I surrender.”
“Good. And . . .”
“But I think this is a job for professionals.”
Chrysalis, having begun to clamber out of the bathtub, froze in place. The outside air nipped at her wet body, entering her pores and evaporating the dampness. Her long, spidery legs slipped against the slick surface of the porcelain and sent her back into the water.
“What?” The Changeling queen’s voice was dangerously quiet. It was a tone that was usually reserved for the particularly disobedient subordinates who probably weren’t going to live to see the next day. The malice behind the single syllable was lost, however, on the obliviously pink alicorn.
Cadance pushed herself back to her hooves. “Yep,” she decided. “We’re going to go see somepony who actually knows what they’re doing.”
“What?” Chrysalis repeated. Her vision suddenly went completely and impenetrably blank, like all the light in the world had suddenly been erased. Cadance had thrown a heavy towel over her head, and began to rub vigorously, shaking the moisture out of the Changeling’s hair. Chrysalis lashed out blindly, attacking the invisible assailant. “Get off!” Her flailing hooves met only air, and a soft laugh reached her ears, sounding from her left.
“Chrysy?” Cadance inquired cheerily, her voice bouncy and singsong. What followed could only mean bad news.
“You are not permitted to call me ‘Chrysy’. I would prefer you didn’t let my name escape your filthy lips at all, Cadenza.” Chrysalis put special emphasis on the last word, returning the favor.
Cadance ignored the insult. “Have you ever had a makeover before?”
Chrysalis’s eyes burned as the towel was removed from her face in a flourish. The harsh light that she had gotten so used to was now an entirely new sensation, and it grated against her retinas most unpleasantly. She raised a hoof in an attempt to block out the radiance that seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere at once. “No,” she replied. “I have not. I would assume that the fact would be obvious, but perhaps I was mistaken.”
“I see.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“Oh, Chrysy.” Cadance pulled the damp, uncooperative Changeling into a tight hug. “Take a wild guess, why don’t you?”
Chrysalis was escorted back into her bedroom, where Opalescence was still languishing on the bed clothes, licking her nether region contentedly. The Changeling regarded the creature with contempt.
“How many throats did you have to slit in order to acquire this beast?” she asked, rhetorically.
Cadance closed the door behind them. “None, silly! Rarity needed some peace and quiet, and Fluttershy was busy babysitting the Cutie Mark Crusaders, so I offered to watch Opal for a while.”
“Cutie Mark Crusaders?”
“Yes. They’re adorable little fillies. A little misguided, maybe, but their intention is good.”
Ignoring Chrysalis’s incredulously bewildered look, the princess shoved her down on the bed, moving the blankets aside with magic before she collided with the mattress. Opal hopped aside daintily, landing on the floor and shooting Cadance a look of severe annoyance. “So, how long until you’ll be able to transform?”
“Why?”
“Because if you’re going to leave the house, it won’t go well if you do it as Chrysalis. So how long?”
Chrysalis pushed herself up on elbows, disregarding the pain that accompanied the movement. “I cannot be expected to know exactly how long it will take for your poison to pass through my system, but I would estimate another day at the absolute least.”
Cadance’s magic launched the blankets back over the bed. The edges tucked deep under the mattress, binding Chrysalis tightly from hooves to chin. Only her head poked above the crimson straitjacket that restricted her.
“I was afraid of that.” Cadance said grimly. “Now . . . bed rest for you. Don’t get yourself excited. Sleep, if you can.” Unnecessarily, she bent down and tugged at the blankets with her teeth, pulling it even tighter around Chrysalis’s neck, obstructing her airway and causing her breath to come in shallow gasps.
If she didn’t know better, Chrysalis would guess that the princess was trying to kill her.
Grudgingly though, the cynical Changeling had to admit that the situation she found herself entwined in was unimaginably comfortable. The security of the blankets around her was comforting, reminiscent of a very early memory of hers: back when she was barely hatched, in her larval stage. The sac that contained her then was remarkably similar to the cocoon that Cadance had so effortlessly rigged for her.
The sensation was nostalgic. And nostalgia was an unfamiliar concept for the incapacitated Changeling queen.
The cobalt-maned head of Shining Armor poked across the threshold, his disdain for the bed’s occupant immediately apparent in his clenched teeth and reproachful eyes. “Cadance? Can I talk to you for a minute, dear?”
Cadance smiled warmly. Her entire demeanor appeared to be constantly devoted to appearing ecstatic about life in general. “Of course, Shiny!” She turned, winking, to Chrysalis. “Back in a second. Don’t go anywhere.”
“Was that a joke?” Chrysalis inquired. “I’m not always sure with you. Warn me next time.”
Cadance abstained from a response, but retained her aggravating cheeriness as she trotted out the door. Shining Armor stood aside to let her pass, then closed the door behind him, but not before sending Chrysalis an annoyed look.
As the latch activated with a click, Chrysalis emptied her lungs of a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She watched the shadows darkening the ground fade as their owners departed. Once satisfied that her captors had left her, Chrysalis reclined, pounding her already aching head on the headboard, and immediately fell into a fresh spurt of agony. She leaned back, more gingerly this time.
It was going to be a long day.
It wasn’t the pain that got to Chrysalis.
Admittedly, it was intense. A sledgehammer beating on the back of her brain in a consistent rhythm, with barely any deviation.
No, pain was a sensation that Chrysalis had become accustomed to. During her lifetime, she had experienced enough of it to kill at least a dozen ponies. She had built up a tolerance, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt.
What got to Chrysalis was the itching.
The annoying tingling sensation danced up and down her body, congregating in spots for a moment, then zipping off to aggravate some other region. It took all of the power in her newly-reconstructed mind to resist the overwhelming urge to scratch, to soothe her spindly limbs.
If you don’t start, you won’t have to try to stop, Chrysalis rationalized.
This motif lasted for about five minutes, and then Chrysalis found herself desperately digging at herself with the sharp edges of her hooves, providing herself with the most satisfying sensation imaginable. Sure, after the fact it stung maddeningly, and it left unattractive greenish gashes up her legs, but the temporary relief that scratching provided was enough to counter the following discomfort.
Chrysalis threw the blanket off of her lithe frame, still scratching furiously at one of her hind legs. This itch was so fierce, that when she had slaked the tingling, it left a drop of blood running down her skin, violently green against the rubbery black. At this sight, she paused her hoof’s movement, frowning at the drop of liquid. Frowning at herself for being so weak-willed, caving in to such a minor discomfort.
With a fantastical grunt of effort, she jerked her hooves back from the offending leg and crossed them tightly across her chest. No more. You’re only making this worse.
Chrysalis reclined, trying to allow her brain to focus on anything and everything. Anything but the tickling discomfort that ran rampant across her frame. She even pounded her head against the bed, giving herself a new sensation to ruminate on. It worked, but only partially; the newfound pain was only an addition to her ever-growing list of afflictions, and it still did not completely erase the itching.
Looking up, the walls began to close in on Chrysalis. The claustrophobia, the isolation, was far worse than the physical hardships that her body was going through. Her mind was tense, latching onto every little detail in the room. A miniscule chip missing from the edge of her nightstand. A drop of perspiration slowly making its way down the side of the glass of water that she had drank so greedily. An almost-imperceptible flicker, caused by a slowly dying lightbulb overhead.
For the first time, Chrysalis wished that Cadance hadn’t left her alone like this.
Shining Armor gestured at one of the armchairs, sitting contentedly next to the fireplace. The hearth was currently inactive, but its presence still gave the room a cozy, almost festive feel. Surrounding it was a pair of straight-backed armchairs and a low coffee table, on which a forgotten mug of coffee rested.
Cadance, a little unnerved by the grimness on her husband’s face, complied to his request, sitting down daintily on the chair on the left—the one that she had always sat in since they had moved in. Shining Armor took his place opposite her, meeting her gaze evenly, seriously. His upper teeth played along his lower lip, chewing it uncomfortably.
Cadance broke the silence. “What is it?” she inquired, seemingly cheerful, but at the same time held a hard undertone.
Shining Armor didn’t respond immediately. Instead, his horn lit, sending a magenta probe into the kitchen to retrieve some unknown object. The clatter of metal on tile sounded as the force field dug around the kitchen, searching for what its owner desired. Clearly, it had little regard for making a mess in the process. Cadance cringed as she imagined the cooking utensils, strewn across the once-immaculate floor. What returned to the room was a sheaf of paper, with a royal crimson ribbon clasped to the edge.
“What is that?” Cadance asked edgily, the trademark cheeriness in her voice fading slightly upon seeing the letter. Whatever it was, it looked official. And the fact that the couple was harboring a wanted criminal in their spare bedroom hardly put her nerves to rest.
“Letter from the Princess,” Shining Armor responded, casually. His demeanor was uneasy, and his voice matched it, no matter how hard he tried to insist otherwise. He also didn’t clarify which princess had sent the letter—there was only one who could scare him enough to elicit such nervousness. Celestia. It had to be.
“And?” Cadance prompted.
“Canterlot has recently received intelligence that some of the Changelings that we banished might not have actually made it out of the country. Several eyewitness accounts . . .” Shining Armor left the sentence hanging. His magic relinquished the letter, laying it down flat on the coffee table.
“What?”
“Before you brought Chrysalis here, somepony must have seen her. Celestia put a special emphasis on her. There’s a bounty and everything . . .” The coffee mug was brought to the stallion’s lips; he didn’t seem to care that it had long-since gone stone cold. As the liquid slid down his throat, though, he cringed, realizing his mistake. He immediately set the mug back down, some of its contents sloshing out from the ceramic walls and splattering on the heavy wood of the table. “And I’ve been requested in Canterlot to lead the search.”
“Shining!” Cadance exclaimed, half-rising from her chair. “But . . . you can’t! You can’t . . . tell them!”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I don’t want to tell them, but . . . well, I’m obligated, being the captain of the guard, you know. And if I didn’t . . . Celestia would probably see right through me, anyway.” Shining Armor leaned forward, an aura forming once again around his horn. A glow formed around the logs in the fireplace. Something sparked, and there was suddenly a raging blaze dancing along the pile of wood. Restlessly, Shining Armor picked up the iron poker and stabbed at the fire.
“But . . . Chrysalis,” Cadance protested. “I mean, there’s no guarantee that Celestia will call you out, I mean . . . she didn’t realize that it was her instead of me during the wedding. You could play dumb.”
“Yeah,” Shining Armor grinned weakly. “I’m good at that one.” A spark jumped out of the fire, landing inches away from his hoof. He recoiled, lifting the limb away from the source of his surprise. He frowned at the small glowing spot.
“But you could,” Cadance persisted.
“Yeah. I could. Celestia might not notice, but Luna sure will. She’s always been a lot better at reading me than good ol’ Celly was.”
“Just make sure you stay out of Luna’s way.”
“Easier said than done, Cadance. She tends to be invisible when you’re looking for her, and in your face when you’re trying to avoid her.”
“But will you try?”
Shining Armor sighed heavily. He dropped the poker, sliding it back into its designated slot on the rack next to the fireplace. His eyes flitted to Cadance’s, then immediately darted away, resting once again on the mesmerizing cavortion of the flames. “Sure,” he said with a sense of finality, like he had to force the single syllable out of his mouth.
Cadance launched herself out of the chair, throwing her forelegs around her husband’s neck. Her throat burned from the concealed tears, and a pair of identical drops leaked out from her squeezed eyelids. The relief was so powerful that it was painful. The relief that she wouldn’t have to lose Chrysalis. “Thank you, Shiny.”
Shining Armor melted into his wife’s embrace. His eyes closed as well, and his breath came slowly, evenly. “I’ll try, Cadance. I’ll try.”
After a long moment of pure affection, Cadance broke away, smiling gleefully. “I’ll make her better. I promise. By the time you get back, she’ll be completely different.”
Shining Armor stood, taking the letter with him. He rolled it up tightly, tying it with the attached ribbon. “Here’s hoping that it’ll work, for both of us.”
“When are you leaving?”
“Celestia wanted me as soon as possible . . . so, now.”
A set of armor shot out of the hallway, barreling across the room and coming to a halt in midair, hovering just in front of its owner. The silver plating was surrounded by a field of turquoise magic, its originator being Cadance’s outstretched horn. The princess grinned toothily, appearing as though she was channeling the Element of Laughter, Pinkie Pie. “Ready to go!”
Shining Armor stuck his head out from behind the armor, looking at Cadance incredulously. “In a hurry to get me out the door? It’s almost as though you want me gone.”
“Duty calls, Shiny! Now go wrangle up some Changelings for me.”
Chrysalis looked up, startled and optimistic as the door to her makeshift room opened. Cadance entered, humming cheerily. She seemed confoundedly happy about something.
The optimism faded.
“What was that about?” Chrysalis asked warily.
“As it turns out, Celestia has reason to believe that you’re still in the country, so Shining Armor is on his way to Canterlot to pick up a squad of guards and start a nation-wide search,” Cadance replied casually. A contended grin played about her lips as she watched Chrysalis descend into horror.
“I knew it!” Chrysalis shrieked. She bristled, every nerve on her body tensed. “You bring me here, act all nice, and then call in the cavalry to take me in!”
“No, it’s not like that,” Cadance added hurriedly. “Shining is leading them off the trail . . . you’re still safe here.”
Before Chrysalis could make a signature snide remark about the thorough unpleasantness that her stay had caused, Cadance pulled all of the blankets off of the bed, exposing the Changeling’s bleeding, scarred body.
Cadance regarded the oozing gashes Chrysalis had torn across herself. “Yeah . . . spa. Now. You need it.”
“On the contrary—”
“Chrysalis, we’re having a girls-only weekend. You might as well make the most of it. Spa first, arguing later.”
“But—”
“Nope. You’re going to have fun, whether you like it or not.”
“Now, I don’t mean to rush you, but is there any chance that you could be able to transform a little earlier than you promised?”
“Not likely.”
“Could you at least give it a shot?”
“No.”
“Could we drop the idea of being difficult just to be difficult?”
“I do so enjoy the activity, though.”
“I’m aware. Now can you swallow some of that pride and humor me here?”
“I’ve done plenty of pride-swallowing as of late. I refuse to stoop any lower.”
“Okay . . .” Cadance kneaded her eyes with a hoof, exasperated at the lack of cooperation from her houseguest. “Pretend it’s not for me. Pretend I couldn’t care less whether you could transform or not. Do it for yourself, not me. I mean . . .” The princess looked up, a strained smile now plastered on her face. “Transformation is the first step to getting out of here, right?”
“No matter how you slice it, sweetheart, it doesn’t benefit me as much as you’re trying to convey. So . . .” Chrysalis forced herself out of the constraints of the bed, ignoring the ache that accompanied the seemingly-insignificant effort. The Changeling stretched widely, eliciting several pops in various joints. She cringed—her stiff limbs had been still for so long that the sudden movement had brought with them a series of stabbing pains. “I’m afraid that I am disinclined to acquiesce to your request.”
“What?”
“That means ‘no’.”
Chrysalis could see Cadance’s eyes darting back and forth under her closed eyelids, and her teeth grinding against each other. Satisfaction flashed across the Changeling’s consciousness—her current mission was to annoy the pink alicorn as much as possible, and it seemed as though her objective was progressing nicely.
However, the sly smile that played about Cadance’s lips bode ill for Chrysalis. The princess had thought of something, and Chrysalis wanted nothing to do with it.
“Well, I don’t mean to coerce . . .” Cadance started.
“Which basically means you’re going to coerce the Tartarus out of me,” Chrysalis interrupted grimly.
“But I have ways of making you do what I want.”
“I was sincerely hoping that you wouldn’t play that card.”
“Tough luck, sister. If I have to, I will turn you in to Celestia. Is that what you want, Chrysy? No? Okay. Let’s get started then. First, let’s select a likeness that you will assume.” Chrysalis didn’t respond, but Cadance was beyond waiting for her nemesis to acknowledge that she had spoken. She continued briskly. “Now, do you need to have the actual pony in front of you in order to transform into them?”
“The lesser Changelings need a point of reference, yes, but I can pull a disguise from memory, and memory alone. And I might add, it takes an unimaginable amount of brainpower to accomplish this, so in all seriousness, you should be congratulating me on my excessive amount of intelligence.”
“You’re very smart.”
“Thank you.”
“So, could you do that now?”
Chrysalis waved the princess down, batting at her with a flailing hoof. “Give me space.”
Cadance’s eyes surveyed her immediate area. Chrysalis was standing at the opposite end of the room— though she didn’t doubt that whatever the Changeling had in store was perfectly capable of hurting, given that Chrysalis had already blown her across the room with one of her previous explosions. “Okay.” Cadance took several long steps backward, forcing herself into the corner, as far away as she could possibly go.
“Space. Need it. You . . . understand?” Chrysalis repeated, her eyes narrowed to catlike slits.
“Yes. Got it. Whatever you need. Thanks for using short sentences.” Cadance, laughing quietly to herself, made her exit, closing the door behind her.
As soon as Chrysalis was satisfied that the door was shut and latched, she dropped the charade. A ring of venomous green light appeared around her body, quickly moving up to envelop her in a pulsating, lime-colored curtain. Under the cover of the light, her likeness began to change—her legs shortened, her punctured limbs became whole, she sprouted a thin coat of light blue fur, and her mane transformed into an elaborately curled blonde structure.
The green light swirled around the newly-disguised Chrysalis, spinning once more to ensure that all the necessary transformations had been made, before dissipating into a flurry of quickly dissolving wisps. A soft breeze ruffled the curtains, spawned from the event’s conclusion; not nearly the catastrophe that Chrysalis had led Cadance to believe would occur.
Chrysalis picked up the mirror resting on the end table with her customary green magic—the transformations she adopted weren’t capable of changing the color of her magical aura. Nothing in the known world could alter a pony’s soul enough to make a change in his or her magic.
The reflection that smiled back at her was not her own. It was of a pony that she had taken the likeness of decades ago, a friendly, cute unicorn from Las Pegasus with an affinity for painting still lifes. Her cutie mark—which Chrysalis now bent down to see—was a thick paint brush, with a splatter of red and orange paint swirling outward in a short spiral.
This pony’s name was Prism Brush, and had long-since passed away from disease, so there was no chance of her showing up to call out the disguise.
“Done,” Chrysalis called out, making a point to put a layer of weariness on her voice, as though she had just gone through a grueling ordeal. It would be in her best interests to keep acting as though she was incapacitated. The princess would underestimate her, and that would be her undoing.
Cadance pushed the door open with her nose, her eyes eagerly searching the room for Chrysalis’s altered figure. She found it, and latched upon it, jaw hanging slightly ajar. Chrysalis sat down heavily on the bed, continuing the act of weakness. She made a point to quicken her breathing, giving her the appearance of having just run a marathon.
“Happy?” Chrysalis wheezed exaggeratedly. Her voice was no longer her own husky tone, but a bright, singsong titter. With a voice so naturally cheerful-sounding, it was hard to appear sinister.
Cadance admired the new mare in front of her. The sheer innocence of the pony didn’t match the extraordinarily dirty look it was giving her. “Yes, actually. You look good, Chrysy.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Now, without further ado . . .” Cadance stepped forward, grasping the transformed Chrysalis behind the elbow and yanking her along, dragging her across the wooden floor. “We should get going.”
Chrysalis exhaled heavily, in genuine exhaustion this time. No matter what she told herself, she wasn’t fully healed. Assistance with walking would be necessary until she was more comfortable with her motor functions, but there was no need to indulge Cadance quite so much.
“I can walk, thank you,” Chrysalis lied through clenched teeth.
“No, you can’t.” Cadance called out the bluff without a moment’s hesitation.
Chrysalis didn’t bother contradicting her—it seemed as though the Equestrian royal family had a knack for picking out liars, so there was no point in arguing her point further. So she kept her adopted mouth shut, allowing herself to be forcibly guided out of her room, down the hallway, and out the front door.
“I don’t care how flawless my disguise is, I won’t be walking down the middle of the main Ponyville thoroughfare,” Chrysalis insisted, planting her hooves down on the cobblestone as firmly as she could manage.
“Well, first off, you won’t be walking anywhere. And secondly, I have a better route we can take. Something that keeps us a little more in the shadows, as per your request.” Cadance tugged at the unwilling Changeling, knocking her grip loose and propelling her forward a few feet in surprise. “Can’t we have a little trust here?”
“Coming from the pony who threatened to turn me in to the authorities. So apparently we can’t have a little trust, Cadenza.”
“Lighten up. Let’s get going, Chrysy.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“Love you too.”
Chrysalis found herself being forced into an unimaginably soft spa chair, the hooves of the specialists—Aloe and Lotus—on her shoulders. Her face was set with a permanent scowl—the excessive touching coming from the twins was unwelcome, and would usually warrant a lifetime of imprisonment, or death, depending on Chrysalis’s current mood.
Today, it was death.
“Miss Cadance, I do not see the source of this . . . erm, ‘emergency’ you mentioned,” said Aloe, remarking to Cadance, who was sitting on one of the provided benches. The princess had her nose buried deep in a magazine, her eyes darting across the page hungrily, as though she had never seen a formal ware model before. Although, Chrysalis rationalized to herself, she likely was brought up in a sheltered household, being a princess, and all—maybe casual gossip magazines weren’t permitted within the palace.
“Hmm?” Cadance looked up, annoyed at the interruption.
“Miss Prism Brush appears to be in spotless condition,” added Lotus. “I don’t fully understand why you enlisted our assistance.”
“Ah, of course.” Cadance stood, regretfully relinquishing her precious reading material. “Could I speak with the two of you for a moment?”
Aloe and Lotus regarded each other uneasily. Their jobs were usually quite straightforward; a customer selects one of the treatments from the provided menu, and the twins carry out their orders. Custom treatments weren’t usually permitted, except for Lady Rarity, of course. “Of course, Miss Cadance.”
“Lovely. Now . . . I’m going to show you something that may very well disturb you greatly,” said Cadance. The spa specialists’ eyes widened. It was almost comical to watch—their movements nearly perfectly mirrored each other. They were a pair of identically frightened sycophants. “But you have to promise me that you will not scream, faint, or run out of the building in panic. Are we clear?”
The twins now looked downright terrified—the most horrifying sight that they had ever witnessed was a customer sneezing through her mud mask, and that had taken Aloe the rest of the day to recover from. For what was forthcoming, Chrysalis could only chuckle silently.
“Y-yes, of course, miss,” Lotus assured Cadance. The stammer punched a hole in her professional appearance, giving way to her anxiety.
“Aloe?”
“Yes, miss.” The second twin managed to keep her voice level, but her wide eyes told an entirely different story.
“Excellent. Chrysalis? If you would be so kind . . .”
Without standing up, Chrysalis closed her eyes and willed herself to revert back into her original form. The violently green curtain rushed forth from out of her blue horn, swirling around her once more. Ribbons of Changeling magic wrapped around her limbs, lengthening and puncturing them. Her body grew larger, growing uncomfortably big for her chair.
After one last wipe, the magic faded, leaving behind only the scent of rot and mildew—an unwelcome smell in the refined establishment.
Chrysalis smiled winningly, baring her fangs prominently.
Jab after jab of pain dug into the crown of Chrysalis’s head.
She wasn’t sure if the spa ponies were trying to comb her mane, or tear her scalp off.
Either way, it seemed to be a losing battle.
It was a struggle even to get Aloe and Lotus to approach within throwing distance of the Changeling queen, let alone to coax them into coming into contact with her hair. And honestly, Chrysalis couldn’t blame them. Despite Cadance’s best efforts, she was still utterly filthy. The twins had dry heaved the first, second, and third time they encountered a maggot in the labyrinthine turquoise entanglement of Chrysalis’s mane, but by the fourth and fifth, they managed to keep it together. Mostly. Aloe and Lotus were, however hard it was to believe, professionals. After fighting down their initial revulsion, they dove in like it was simply another job.
Chrysalis watched disappointedly as a lock of her hair fell to the floor in front of her eyes. She felt a sharp pain in the roots where the hair had been seconds previous. She stirred restlessly under the ridiculous smock they were making her wear, and the movement was accompanied by more pain. Aloe―or Lotus, Chrysalis never figured out which was which―tutted impatiently.
“If you’d kindly not move about so much, we could . . .” She fell silent, evidently remembering who she was addressing. “Erm. Sorry, ah, your Majesty. It’s no trouble.”
Chrysalis put on her best menacing face―she’d been practicing in the full-length mirror placed in front of her. “That’s right. I will do as a please, you worm.” Her snarl still needed work.
“Oh please,” Cadance said from across the room. “Quit taking yourself so seriously, Chrysy. It’s just a manecut.” She rolled her eyes and flipped the page of her magazine, clicking her tongue. Chrysalis glared at her. Her tongue snaked out between her teeth, hissing. In the mirror, she saw Aloe and Lotus glance at each other nervously. She hissed louder.
The ordeal went on. The comb strokes became gradually less and less painful. Chrysalis’s reflection became less bedraggled, her mane slowly being restored to its magnificent smoothness. Granted, it was months overgrown, but the improvement was marked. Grudgingly, Chrysalis appreciated the change.
Her gratitude wavered, however, when the twins brandished silver scissors at her hair. Aloe and Lotus shared a grim look, then dove in.
Tufts of hair drifted to the floor in throngs. Some landed on Chrysalis’s nose, itching infuriatingly. And since her hooves were bound by the smock, she couldn’t reach the interfering strands to alleviate the discomfort. She noticed, ill-temperedly, that Cadance was watching amusedly over the top of her magazine. Electing to ignore her, Chrysalis watched her reflection. Even in this short amount of time, she saw a remarkable difference.
Chrysalis looked . . . royal, again. No, more than that. Her mane, normally so stringy and greasy, had a smoothness and sheen to it that she had never seen before on her own body. Her turquoise mane, usually faded to a dull blue-green, shone in its natural vibrant color, a color that she hadn’t seen in decades. Nopony had ever styled it.
“Princess Mi Amore Cadenza―” Lotus―or Aloe―called.
“Cadance, please,” Cadance corrected her.
“Yes, erm, Cadance. What do you think?”
Cadance stood, trotting over to Chrysalis’s hair-matted prison. She regarded the Changeling closely, circling around her maddeningly. She put her face close to Chrysalis’s, grinning as she pressed her cheek to hers. Chrysalis tried to recoil in revulsion, but both her smock and the infuriating princess’s stranglehold held her captive. “She looks great! Have you ever thought about highlights, Chryssy?”
“No.”
“I think you’d look good with pink, personally.”
“You are pink, you imbecile. Of course you’d say that.”
“Not like this,” Cadance said, gesturing to herself grandly. “Like a hot pink. Kind of a punk look, you know?”
“Punk?”
“You know, like with lots of leather and spikes . . .”
“I know what it means. I’ll have you know I’m trying my absolute hardest to resist the temptation to eat you.”
Aloe and Lotus took three synchronized steps backward. Cadance just laughed, that infuriating upbeat titter that energized the room. Chrysalis hungrily absorbed some of the energy emanating from the princess, then felt disgusted at herself when she realized what she was doing.
“Ah, your Majesty,” one of the spa ponies said. Both Cadance and Chrysalis turned. Aloe/Lotus glanced at Chrysalis in fright then continued to address Cadance. “Would you like the sauna heated, or would you prefer the mud bath first? Or the hooficure?”
“Hmm, let’s do the hooficure. I wouldn’t mind having a session, myself.” Cadance lifted a hoof, turning it to inspect it from all angles. “Could I add myself to the tab?”
“Nonsense, princess! We do not charge royalty for our services!”
“Well, I’m going to pay for it anyway. Lead the way, please.”
Aloe/Lotus opened her mouth to protest, then clamped it shut. Lotus/Aloe disappeared into the other room, glancing uncomfortably behind her as she went. “Right this way, please.”
Chrysalis hated the hooficure. She begrudgingly sat through the sauna. She tolerated the mud bath. She ate the cucumber slices.
By the time she was lying facedown on the massage table, a burly stallion pummelling her back like a jackhammer, every muscle in Chrysalis’s body was completely at ease. And she didn’t actually hate it, she was surprised to realize. She actually felt . . . relaxed. Until . . .
“I-it’s no-o-o-o-t to-o-o-o la-a-ate fo-o-or tho-o-ose hi-i-i-i-ighli-i-i-i-ights,” Cadance said, her voice coming out vibrato thanks to her masseuse.
Chrysalis clenched her teeth. She didn’t respond, mostly for fear of what her voice would sound like. Instead, she pressed her face more firmly into the pillow and sank into the rhythm of her massage. Cadance may have said more, but it was muffled by the pillow covering her ears, and by the vibration. Chrysalis faded in and out of consciousness, despite the number that was being done to her back.
Chrysalis was beset by a plethora of half-dreams; based loosely off reality, but just off enough to make her wonder. The spa ponies drifted about listlessly, floating just a little bit off the ground and tittering gleefully. Cadance’s voice was in her ear, saying words that didn’t quite sound like words. The not-words were nice. Chrysalis liked the feeling of abandon, where nothing needed to make sense.
Moments later, a particularly deep shove at the base of her neck by her masseuse threw her back to reality. Chrysalis peeked over the pillow. Cadance was facedown on the bed adjacent. Not whispering in Chrysalis’s ear. Her customary grumpiness reasserted, Chrysalis pressed her face down again and allowed her massage to beat away any of the happy feelings she may have entertained.
Later, Chrysalis waited restlessly behind Cadance as the princess counted out the bits required for their excursion. Her muscles felt like jelly, but she tried her utmost to hide her shakiness.
Aloe and Lotus were all smiles, but never took their eyes off Chrysalis. Unexpectedly, Chrysalis found herself a little hurt by their mistrust. It was an odd feeling―Chrysalis couldn’t recall the last time she’d been offended. Annoyed, angry, devastated. Those were all emotions she was intimately familiar with. Offended? She thought that no being was capable of getting under her skin like that.
Chrysalis stamped out the feeling, replacing it with haughtiness. So what if these two insignificant sycophants don’t like me? I haven’t given them any reason to. She turned her head, trying to find anything but the spa ponies to look at. She settled on an exotic potted plant near the door. At least it didn’t look at her funny.
Cadance finished the transaction and turned to Chrysalis, all smiles. “All done! Ready to go?”
Chrysalis regarded her disinterestedly.
“That’s the spirit! Now could you put on that disguise again?”
Chrysalis wordlessly, reluctantly, complied, her menacing frame shrinking down to the not-so-menacing form of Prism Brush. Almost imperceptibly, the spa ponies relaxed a little. Not willing to leave without a parting jab, Chrysalis turned to look directly at them and transformed only her face, the unicorn’s innocent mask twisting into a sharp-toothed snarl.
That was the final straw for Aloe (or Lotus). Gasping, she tumbled to the floor in a dead faint. The other one let out a small shriek and cowered behind the front desk.
Cadance, hearing the disturbance, turned to look. Chrysalis had turned her face back to Prism Brush’s and was smiling innocently. Cadance, regarding the terror before her, gave Chrysalis an exasperated look. “Chrysalis . . .”
“What?”
Cadance appeared to be forcing down a smile. “I admit, that’s a little funny. But you can’t just go around scaring folks half to death because you feel like it.”
“Why not?”
Cadance thought for a moment. “It’s just . . . not nice.” She magicked open the door and waited for Chrysalis to pass.
Chrysalis snorted. She declined Cadance’s invitation, opening the other door and walking through it instead. Childish, perhaps, but Chrysalis wasn’t giving Cadance the satisfaction. “And I care why? You of all ponies should know that causing pain is a fundamental part of Changeling society. Millions of years of evolution have just made us better at it than you.”
Cadance allowed the door to swing shut behind her. She sighed. “I can dream, right?”
“Spare me your fantasies. Dreams are nothing more than illusions. Your mind playing tricks on you.”
Cadance smirked. “I can’t take you seriously when you’re in that form.” She playfully patted Chrysalis’s head. Since they were in public, Chrysalis refrained from biting her hoof off. “Such hateful things coming from such a pretty little unicorn,” she crooned.
“I’ll show you hateful,” Chrysalis muttered.
Cadance laughed gleefully and turned in a circle. “Okay, what do you want to do next?”
“What?”
“I mean, we went for makeovers. That’s the perfect kickoff for a girl’s day out, right? What next? Coffee? Shopping? More makeovers?” She threw a hoof around Chrysalis’s shoulders and winked conspiratorially. “Girl stuff?”
“Does your entire worldview come from a gossip magazine?”
“I didn’t get out much when I was young.”
“I never would have guessed.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“I don’t plan to.”
“Alright, have it your way. I’ll decide.” Cadance set off at a brisk trot. Chrysalis, as if on a leash, begrudgingly followed. She didn’t have to. She could have slipped away, transforming into somepony else and disappearing into the shadows. But something almost magnetic drew her to Cadance. Something deep, instinctive. And, if nothing else, Chrysalis had learned to trust her instincts. For now.
Chrysalis kept her head down, glancing to the left and right every now and then to assess potential threats. Cadance walked half a pace in front of her, humming. Every now and then, she would drop a cheery comment to some passerby and Chrysalis would try to stay as small as possible.
Cadance led Chrysalis to a large circular building with a spired roof. The whole construct resembled a tall, ornate carousel. Chrysalis’s stride faltered when she looked up at the white and purple structure. “What is this?”
“Carousel Boutique!” Cadance announced, gesturing with a wide sweep. “I thought you might like something to wear for special occasions.”
Carousel Boutique. Go figure. Chrysalis mustered up as much incredulity as Prism Brush’s face was capable of displaying. She feared it wasn’t nearly enough to be taken seriously. “Really?”
“Really really. C’mon, let’s go.” Cadance took Chrysalis by the hoof and pulled her inside. Chrysalis kept her eyes firmly affixed on the ground, until a voice forced her gaze up.
“Oh! Your Majesty!” gushed a white unicorn with a purple mane. “I hadn’t expected guests of this . . .” She tittered. “Magnificence today! What can I do for you!”
“Hi Rarity,” Cadance said, smiling uncomfortably at the enthusiastic welcome. “My friend here was just looking to look through some of your items. Mind if we look around?”
“Oh, but of course! Would you care to peruse our spring lineup?”
“That’s alright, we’ll just . . . wander. Thanks for letting me borrow Opal yesterday, by the way. The house was getting a little lonely with Shining being gone and all.”
“You’re most welcome!” Rarity’s attention turned to Chrysalis, disguised as Prism Brush. Her enthusiastic smile faded slightly, deescalating to a polite simper. “Ah, I’m sorry, but I don’t think we’ve met before,”
Oh, but we have, Chrysalis thought. If only you knew . . .
“This is, erm . . .” Cadance started.
“Prism Brush,” Chrysalis supplied, her voice coming out as Prism Brush’s flowery titter. “I’m visiting from Manehattan.”
“Oh!” Rarity’s eyes widened. “I absolutely adore Manehattan! Tell me, do you know a stallion named Fancy Pants?”
Chrysalis glanced at Cadance, who shrugged. “I’m . . . sorry, I don’t think I do.”
“Ah, what a shame. Anyhoo, feel free to browse!” Rarity flashed another winning smile and retreated to another wing of the store, humming to herself. Chrysalis watched her go. It had been a long time since she’d crossed paths with that infuriating fashionista. The rage she’d expected to feel when confronted by an old foe was notably absent―instead she only felt a mild apprehension.
Cadance lead Chrysalis by the hoof through the shop. Chrysalis eyed each passing dress uneasily. The entire boutique was covered in an overwhelming amount of clothing and, as someone who did not customarily wear clothing, Chrysalis felt rather unwelcome. She wondered apprehensively what Cadance planned on roping her into buying.
“So what are you interested in?” Cadance asked. She levitated a pair of sun dresses off their racks. One was powder blue, the other a sunny yellow.
“Not those. Too . . . pastel. Hem line too low.” Chrysalis looked the dresses up and down, speaking her mind absentmindedly. “Too much frill.”
Cadance raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you had any fashion sense, Chrysy.”
Chrysalis threw a glance over her shoulder, making sure Rarity wasn’t nearby. The fashionista was at the other end of the shop, busy outfitting a mannequin with some ridiculous cloud of a gown. She looked to be out of earshot. “Don’t call me that,” she muttered threateningly.
Cadance followed her gaze, then smiled sheepishly. “Sorry . . . Prism.” She placed the dresses back on the rack and leaned in for a whisper. “That is your name, right?” Chrysalis nodded. “Should we keep looking?”
“If you insist.” Chrysalis said with casual disinterest. Though in spite of herself, she was genuinely curious as to what else they might find.
Cadance offered ensemble after ensemble, picking clothes off the racks at random and offering them to Chrysalis. Chrysalis declined each one, partially because of her love of being difficult, but partially because nothing really caught her eye. The pair worked their way through the boutique; Cadance’s enthusiasm had proven to be utterly limitless, so her Changeling companion’s uncooperative nature did little to dim it. Chrysalis, against her much better judgment, grew invested in the venture.
“What about this?” Cadance held aloft a pale denim jacket.
“No.”
“What about this?”
“No,” Chrysalis repeated to a decent-looking lime skirt. “Too . . . disagreeable.”
“Disagreeable?” Cadance said, looking from the skirt to Chrysalis. “What does that mean?” She held it up to Chrysalis’s body, visualizing what it might look like on her.
“It doesn’t match this body. What’s not to understand?” Chrysalis shrugged and turned away, working her way down a line of hats.
“Doesn’t match?”
Chrysalis sighed impatiently. “Yes. Doesn’t match. That is not something that Prism Brush would wear.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know Prism Brush. Do you think that we simply pick a face out of a crowd to transform into? Changelings actually do the homework. The good ones do, at least.”
“Then I guess we’ve been going about this wrong. What would Prism wear?”
Chrysalis’s gaze fell on a wide-brimmed hat, made of what looked like straw, and with an enormous flower sitting atop it. It wasn’t necessarily Chrysalis’s style, but Prism Brush’s eye was drawn to it. “Something like that,” she said, nodding to it.
“Really? Then let’s try it on!”
As Chrysalis opened her mouth to protest, Cadance snatched up the hat and popped it onto Chrysalis’s head. The hat sank down below her eyes. Chrysalis pushed it up to reveal the dirty look she was giving Cadance. Cadance grabbed her shoulders and spun her around to face a full-length mirror on the wall.
The reflection of Prism Brush met Chrysalis’s eyes with an unimpressed glare. Then Chrysalis saw the hat. Prism’s neatly-curled mane, framed by the straw-yellow of the hat, then accentuated by the vibrant pink carnation.
Chrysalis, even in her thoroughly unimpressed state, was able to draw a conclusion:
“Shining Armor? May I speak with you for a moment?”
Shining Armor’s stomach dropped to his gold-plated hooves. He was nervous enough as it was, en route through Canterlot Palace to tell flat-out lies to a demigod, so the voice of the Princess of the Night coming from behind him did little to alleviate the tension.
“Princess Luna! Of course!” Shining snapped to attention, a hoof automatically flying to his brow. Princess Luna approached him. As always, she seemed slightly out-of-place during the daytime. Ironically, she looked like an outsider in her own palace.
Luna regarded him with amusement. “At ease, Captain. Walk with me?”
Shining was all-too-aware of his pounding heart, convinced that Luna must be able to hear it. “Erm, I have business to discuss with Princess Celestia, I really must be going.” He half-turned, giving Luna an apologetic look. “I’m very sorry, Princess.”
“This concerns your visit with my sister. I’m sure she won’t mind you being a few minutes tardy.”
Shining glanced behind him. The doors to Celestia’s throne room were only twenty paces or so away. He came so close to Celestia without running into Luna. He felt sweat beading at his brow, and he swiped it away casually. “Of course, Princess. What do you need to talk about?”
Luna beckoned with her head, then turned and started walking away. Shining gave the throne room doors one last wistful look, then reluctantly followed Luna.
“I hear you’re to be leading the effort in rounding up any stray Changelings,” Luna said conversationally.
“T-that’s right,” Shining stammered.
“Any ideas on how you’re going to go about it?”
“Well . . . I figured we’d start in Baltimare and work our way west . . . rounding up any stragglers we find.”
“Hmm. What about Ponyville? It seems like anything exciting happening in this country is usually centered there.”
Shining almost tripped over his hooves. “Ponyville? I . . . I don’t think . . .”
“Just a thought. The Everfree Forest would be an ideal refuge for Changelings, after all.” Luna’s stride paused and she looked at Shining Armor evenly, waiting for his reaction. Shining didn’t meet her eye, instead looking up at the enormous stained glass window above her. It depicted his sister and her friends’ defeat of Nightmare Moon. For the first time, Shining was unnerved to notice the similarity between Princess Luna and her former alter ego. Her gaze held the same hard edge, the intensity that crumbled willpower like bread crumbs.
“We’ll get to Ponyville eventually, but it makes more sense to do more of a sweep than a pick-and-choose.” Shining tried to keep his voice as even and casual as possible.
Luna’s lips twitched, then she broke into a smile. “You’ve got your story straight, I’ll give you that. How’s she doing?”
Shining’s heart rate, which had been slowly decelerating back to normal, ratcheted back up. “I’m . . . I’m sorry?”
Luna sighed and glanced both ways, looking to see if they had company. The closest living beings were a pair of armored guards stationed at the doorway, far out of earshot. “We can drop the charade. Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. How’s she treating Cadance?”
“I don’t know . . .” Shining threw a look over his shoulder. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Princess.”
“What were you dreaming about last night, Shining Armor?”
The question caught him off-guard. Last night? He could hardly remember; the past few days had been more stressful than the days preceding his officer exams, even with Chrysalis sleeping through most of them. “I’m sorry, I . . . don’t remember.”
“I do.”
At once, Shining felt a hot shame wash over him. Luna could see dreams.
Chrysalis had been in his dreams. His own subconscious had given her away.
“Your dream told me that you had the queen of the Changelings sleeping in your guest room. That is not something I often see.”
“I . . . I can explain everything.”
“No need. When I saw Chrysalis in your dream, I took a look at Cadance’s as well. I know what she’s trying to do. And I commend her for it.” Luna nodded thoughtfully. “Having the capacity to forgive a being like Chrysalis for what she did is truly remarkable.”
Shining breathed a sigh of relief. “So, you’re not going to tell Celestia?”
Luna shrugged. “I haven’t decided yet. It depends largely on how successful Cadance is in her endeavor.”
“Then . . . what should I tell her?”
“Tell her what you told me. Be a little more assertive, though,” Luna added with a wink. “Even if I hadn’t seen your dreams, I would have known you were lying.”
“Sorry.”
“Then put your plan into motion. Draw Celestia’s eye away from Ponyville. It should buy Cadance enough time to do whatever she plans to do. I’ll try to help however I can, but it’s ultimately up to her.”
“Thank you, Princess.” Shining saluted again. Even though he was technically part of the royal family now, old habits die hard. “Thank you for not snitching.”
Luna smirked. “My lips are sealed tighter than the Chest of Harmony.” She turned to go.
“Erm, Luna . . .” Shining said uneasily.
“Yes?”
“When you said you watched my dreams . . . how much did you watch?”
The deep blue of Luna’s face turned slightly pink. “Too much, Shining Armor. Let’s leave it at that.”
Chrysalis liked her new hat greatly.
To be fair, it had been Prism Brush’s eyes that had picked it out, but then again, Chrysalis was Prism Brush. She wasn’t sure how the exact biology of it all worked, but she did know that certain aspects of the pony she was impersonating worked had a tendency to surface in unexpected ways. Changeling disguises were not just skin-deep.
For instance, Prism was allergic to dogs. This meant that when Applejack was talking Winona for a walk past her, Chrysalis broke down into an embarrassing fit of sneezes, drawing unwanted looks from passersby. And Cadance, as infuriating as she was, did nothing to draw attention away from Chrysalis.
It was also annoying having to deal with Prism’s eyes. Though the brain was entirely Chrysalis’s, the eyes still hinted at a personality that was entirely not―she had to drag herself away from a still-life exhibition that her eye had fixated on. Chrysalis hated painting, Prism did not.
Usually, Chrysalis was able to work around the natural urges of the body she was occupying, but she was very out of practice.
But regardless, Chrysalis liked her new hat.
Currently, she was sitting at an outdoor table across from Cadance, a tall glass of strawberry ice cream topped with a maraschino cherry placed in front of her. Chrysalis tried to keep an angry face on, but she was finding it surprisingly difficult―she simply had nothing to be angry about. And that angered her.
It was a nice day. The sun was shining but the air remained pleasantly cool. There was an energy of excitement emanating from all around―the arrival of spring had everypony buzzing. Smiles were commonplace. Auras were more vibrant. The happiness in the air was intoxicating. Infuriating.
Cadance was rubbing off on her, and Chrysalis wasn’t sure if she liked it.
“How are you feeling?” Cadance asked.
“Fine.”
“Like your ice cream?”
“Sure.”
“What do you want to do next?”
“Whatever.”
Cadance levitated the spoon out of her own ice cream and pointed it at Chrysalis accusatively. “You’re not being nearly as argumentative as usual. What’s up?”
Chrysalis shrugged in response.
“You tired?”
“No.”
“Hungry?”
Chrysalis poked at her ice cream. “No.”
“Need another kitten?”
For the first time in her life, Chrysalis had to force back a laugh.
“No,” she said, voice wavering ever so slightly. She looked down to hide her half-smile, but she feared Cadance already saw it.
“Wait a second . . .” Cadance squinted and leaned in closer. “Are you actually not angry? Has that even happened before?”
“Don’t look too far into it,” Chrysalis said. She raised her head, her customary haughtiness reasserted on her face. “You’d be wasting your time.”
“Nice try, sister. You were smiling.”
“Wasn’t.”
“Were.”
“Wasn’t,” Chrysalis insisted, half-rising.
Something cold and sweet-smelling spattered on Chrysalis’s nose. She recoiled backward, looking cross-eyed to locate the disturbance. Cadance stuck her spoon in her mouth, pretending that she hadn’t just flicked ice cream at Chrysalis, and smiled innocuously.
Chrysalis sank back into her seat, wiping ice cream off her face. “Why did you do that?” she said calmly.
“Because we’re friends, Chrysy, and friends tease each other sometimes.”
Chrysalis, infuriatingly, was not angry at Cadance. She couldn’t quite ascertain why not, but Cadance’s rationale seemed justifiable. She didn’t even bother protesting the comment that they were friends, because for all Chrysalis knew, they might actually be friends by now.
The mechanics of friendship had always befuddled her. Not that she made any effort in trying to decipher the minutia of making friends; friend-making simply had never been pertinent to her. Now . . . she wasn’t sure if she and Cadance were friends or not. She didn’t know the requirements. How much socialization was required before they could be considered friends? And how much more would be required to reverse the adverse effects of Chrysalis’s hostile takeover of Canterlot? What she wouldn’t give for a rulebook . . .
“Whatcha thinking about?”
Cadance must have interpreted Chrysalis’s silence as deep thought. To be fair, she wasn’t wrong. But Chrysalis wasn’t about to admit that. “Nothing.”
“C’mon . . . bit for your thoughts?”
“A fool and her money are soon parted.”
“Ahh, don’t be that way. We’ve gotta establish a little trust here if we’re going to get anywhere.”
“Get anywhere?”
“Sure. I’m going to introduce you to the magic of friendship, whether you like it or not.” Cadance looked over Chrysalis’s shoulder. “Speaking of which . . .”
Chrysalis turned to follow Cadance’s gaze. Approaching the pair was a small, very familiar-looking purple unicorn. Chrysalis’s heart sank. Twilight Sparkle. The pony who she least wanted to see in all of Equestria. Though, hanging around with Cadance, it was only a matter of time before she encountered the Element of Magic.
Cadance leaned in to whisper, “Here’s the foremost expert on friendship there is.” She waved jovially. “Hi Twilight!”
Chrysalis plastered on a casual smile as Twilight approached, masking the inner turmoil that threatened to twist her features into a snarl. Rarity may have only been an accomplice to Chrysalis’s defeat, but Twilight had been the mastermind. A clumsy, awkward mastermind, but a mastermind nonetheless. And Chrysalis hadn’t yet mastered Cadance’s art of forgiveness.
Upon seeing Cadance, Twilight beamed radiantly. Upon closer inspection, Chrysalis noticed that the unicorn’s aura was a brilliant violet, and it pulsed even brighter when Cadance was introduced. She vaguely wondered if Twilight would notice if she leeched a bit of energy off. Just a tad, something to top her off.
“Cadance! Hi!” Twilight exclaimed. She stopped at their table, and dropped the teetering pile of books she was hovering at her hooves. She glanced between Cadance and Chrysalis’s disguise. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met.”
“This is Prism Brush,” Cadance said, giving Chrysalis a subtly smug look. “An old friend of mine from Manehattan. She’s going to be in town for another week, so I was hoping to introduce her to some of your friends.”
Twilight smiled politely and extended a hoof for Chrysalis to shake. Chrysalis complied, though her skin crawled when she made contact. “It’s very nice to meet you, Prism. I’d love to introduce you to the girls, and I’m sure they’d love to meet you.”
Chrysalis returned Twilight’s simper. “That’d be wonderful.”
Twilight turned back to Cadance. “Where’s Shining? I haven’t seen him around lately.”
“Oh,” Cadance said. “He had to run back to Canterlot.” She leaned in closer and lowered her voice. “There was some unfinished business with the Changelings.” She winked. “Not that I told you that, or anything.”
Twilight’s eyes widened. “Is he alright? Does he need help?”
“No, no. I’m sure he’s fine,” Cadance assured her. “Just a routine sweep to make sure none of them got left behind. Nothing to worry about, really. He should be back in a couple weeks.”
Twilight didn’t look reassured, but evidently decided not to press the issue. “Hmm, what a shame. I so wanted him to be there for game night tonight.”
“Game night?” Chrysalis asked, surprised at herself that she’d let even a single word escape her mouth.
“Yes, the girls―that is, the other Elements of Harmony―and I have been playing board games every Friday night recently, just for fun. But Pinkie and Fluttershy are out of town, so I was hoping that you and Shining could come fill their spots.”
“But . . .” Chrysalis started, but faltered when both Cadance and Twilight looked at her. “Erm, isn’t today Wednesday?” she finished awkwardly.
Twilight grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, but I thought we’d do it tonight instead. Because . . .” She giggled. “You may think it’s a bit silly, but I had a dream last night that basically told me to switch to tonight.”
Cadance looked thoughtful. “Could Prism come along with me instead of Shining?” Chrysalis noticed that Cadance was deliberately avoiding her gaze.
“Of course!” Twilight exclaimed. “We’d love to have you!” She turned around, digging through her saddlebags for something. “You’ll have to do a little reading, I hope you don’t mind, but I guarantee you’ll have a great time. Cadance has done it before, so she can answer any questions you have.” She withdrew two hardcover books and plopped them down on the table in front of Chrysalis, causing her ice cream to teeter threateningly. “We’ll meet at my house at seven. It's the big tree in the middle of town. See you then!”
Twilight waved, picked up her stack of books, then continued on her merry way.
Cadance waved after Twilight, blissfully oblivious to the scorching stare Chrysalis was giving her. “So that’s Twilight for you,” she said, turning to meet Chrysalis’s eye. “Doesn’t even hesitate to invite a complete stranger to game night.”
“I really don’t like you, Cadenza,” Chrysalis muttered angrily.
“Cheer up, Chrysy, game night is a perfect way to break the ice. Just keep an open mind about it. Oh, and you should read up before we go.” Cadance pointed to the books in front of Chrysalis. “Its . . . what, about one o’clock now? So you have six hours to do your homework. Plenty of time!”
Chrysalis looked down at the books, sliding the first off the other to read the title. “Monster Manual? Player’s Handbook?” she said skeptically. “What did you just sign me up for?”
“Oh, you have a whole new world waiting for you, Chrysy. Just wait and see.”
“Ready to go?” Cadance peeked into Chrysalis’s temporary sleeping quarters after knocking on the half-open door.
Chrysalis didn’t look up or acknowledge Cadance’s presence in the slightest. She was sitting on her bed, nose pressed firmly into the Player’s Handbook Twilight had lent her and frowning intently.
“Chrysy?”
“Shh.”
“Done making a character yet?”
“No.”
“Well we’ve gotta hurry. It’s six forty-five, Twilight said to get there at seven. Can you work on it on the road?”
Chrysalis reluctantly snapped the book shut and stifled a yawn behind her hoof. She hadn’t read that much since . . . well, ever. She’d never been much of a bookworm, but the Handbook had really grabbed her attention. It was like something she’d never seen; something almost otherworldly. Chrysalis stood to her full height, pleased to notice that in her natural form she was much taller than Cadance. “Fine. Let’s go.”
“Mind turning back into Prism?”
Chrysalis was already walking out the door when the poisonous green curtain emanating from her horn engulfed her. When it cleared, Cadance saw only the tip of Prism Brush’s tail disappearing into the hallway. Seconds later, the two books on Chrysalis’s bed flew into the air and followed the unicorn.
“Why the sudden hurry?” Cadance asked, emerging out of Chrysalis’s room.
“Waiting on you now,” Chrysalis said. She donned her wide hat, despite the lack of sunlight outside, and threw open the cottage’s front door.
“I don’t think I’ll ever quite understand you.”
“Good.”
Chrysalis was quiet during the walk. Her mind was buzzing, working out all the little details in her character that she hadn’t nailed down while she was reading. Cadance had recommended that she try not to be too in-depth with her imagining, reasoning that whatever development she didn’t address would be handled later on down the road anyway. Chrysalis, of course, had ignored her. It was in her nature to be thorough, be it in hostile takeovers or role-playing games.
Time passed quickly in Chrysalis’s head, so it seemed like she had barely stepped out of Cadance’s cottage when she suddenly arrived at Golden Oaks Library. She heard muffled voices from within; clearly the other players had already arrived.
“No turning back now,” Cadance commented.
“Just knock,” Chrysalis said. She felt an unfamiliar feeling swirling in her stomach, and she wondered if she might be getting sick. Nervousness? Is this what nervousness feels like? Chrysalis noted that she did not enjoy nervousness.
Cadance knocked, the sound causing Chrysalis to jump. The voices from inside silenced. Immediately, the door to the library glowed heliotrope and swung open. Chrysalis instinctively ducked behind Cadance, allowing the tall frame of the alicorn to hide her own small body. She peeked through a gap in Cadance’s mane, her view of the inside of the library only partially obscured by pink, purple, and gold.
Twilight approached at a prance, beaming. “Cadance! Hi! Where’s Prism?”
Cadance stepped to the side, revealing the sheepish Changeling. “Hi Twilight, sorry we’re late.”
“Not to worry! We’ve only been waiting about a minute!”
Chrysalis’s gaze drifted past Twilight and deeper into the room. A large reading table sat in the center of the room, covered in papers, tiny plastic figurines, and an assortment of snacks. Surrounding the table were three other ponies, all of whom Chrysalis recognized immediately. Applejack, Rainbow Dash, and Rarity, whom she’d bought her hat from. Chrysalis tensed.
“Come on in!” Twilight said. She stepped aside to allow Cadance and Chrysalis to pass. “Good to see you again, Prism. Did you like those books?”
“Yes,” Chrysalis replied, tearing her gaze away from the other Elements. She levitated the books out of her saddlebag and gave them back to Twilight. “They were very interesting. Where did you find them?”
“I got them from Princess Celestia’s personal library. She seemed to think they were dangerous, or something, so she gave them to me to pre read. I may have made a few revisions,” Twilight said slyly. “Feel free to have a seat anywhere, then we can get started!”
Cadance sat. Chrysalis immediately took the spot adjacent to her. Rarity, on her other side, smiled politely when she sat down. Rainbow Dash and Applejack sat across from her; both regarded her with curious looks. Chrysalis put on her best friendly face. Twilight assumed her position at the head of the table and erected a divider between her notes and the players. “Okay! Could we maybe go around the circle and introduce ourselves?”
Rainbow Dash sat up. “Rainbow Dash here, Element of Loyalty and all that.”
A slight pause followed. “And our characters too?” Twilight suggested.
“Sure. I play Firefly, pegasus Ranger extraordinaire!”
“Ahm Applejack, Ah’ve got Midnight Strike. Earth pony Fighter,” Applejack said, holding up a diminutive figurine of a black and yellow pony with a sword.
“We’ve met before, but I’m Rarity, and I’m playing Jade Thunderbuck, the earth pony Barbarian.”
Chrysalis raised an eyebrow. “Barbarian?” From her reading, she recalled that barbarians were everything Rarity was most distinctly not. She’d fully expected Rarity to play a magician of some sort. “Not, like, a wizard, or something?”
Rarity tittered. “Now, who’s to say that a lady can’t play as a barbarian?”
Chrysalis shrugged. “I suppose so.”
“And I’m Cadance,” Cadance said. “I’m Angelic Whisper, the unicorn Cleric of Chauntea. Here to show you all the light of my goddess, whether you like it or not.”
Chrysalis took a deep breath. Her turn. All the minutia of her character were suddenly wiped from her mind. All of the hard work that she’d been so proud of. “Hi. I’m Prism Brush. I’ll be playing Slash Lyric, the Changeling Warlock.”
Twilight raised her eyebrows curiously. “A Warlock?”
“Yes.”
“And a Changeling too! Just out of curiosity, what’s your alignment?”
Chrysalis struggled to remember what she had decided on. “Um . . . Neutral Evil.”
Twilight rubbed her hooves together. “This is going to be fun! We don’t have any other evil players.”
“Changeling?” Rainbow said incredulously. “Are you even allowed to do that?”
“Yes,” Twilight said. “Changelings are one of the playable races.”
“Rainbow, you may have forgotten that our Bard is a Minotaur,” Rarity said. “A Changeling is hardly the strangest thing in our party.”
“Yeah, but that’s Pinkie,” Rainbow protested. “I assumed that Twilight just didn’t want to argue when she said she wanted to be a Minotaur.”
“If you’d done the reading, you’d know that she was perfectly within the rules,” Twilight admonished. “Now, should we get started?”
After a general nod of assent, Twilight took a deep breath and began to speak:
“Your party returns from their latest adventure. The sight of that familiar inn, the Crimson Draco, has never been such a welcome sight. Grateful to get out of the rain, you enter the modest establishment and are met with the sights, sounds, and smells that you would expect from such a place. Despite being very late in the evening, the bar is crowded and loud. The roaring fire at the hearth provides warmth that you haven’t felt in a long time.”
“Ah immediately sit down at the bar an’ order a drink,” Applejack said.
“I do as well,” Rarity added. She put on a deep, gravely voice. “Barkeep! Give me the largest ale you have!”
“ ‘Of course, Miss Thunderbuck,’ ” Twilight answered as the bartender, her voice changing to a lighter, more nasally tone. “He pours an enormous flagon of amber liquid and places it in front of you. ‘What tales have you of your latest adventure?’ ”
“Too many to tell in a single night, my good man. But believe when I say they are legendary, to say the least.”
“ ‘Aye, that I can believe. Say, somepony a bit odd came in earlier. She looked to me like the adventurin’ type.’ ”
“Is that so?”
“ ‘That it be. Some manner of warlock, she looked to be. Said something about looking for companions. I told her I’d keep my eye out.’ ”
“I would like to force myself into this conversation,” Rainbow said. She squinted her eyes, looking intently at Twilight. “Where’s she at now?” she said in a slightly less husky voice. The voice of Firefly. “We might want to have a talk with this lass.”
“So, the barkeep sort of nods at the far corner of the inn with his head. You see a figure sitting half in shadows. ‘That be her over there. Hasn’t said a word in hours.’ ”
“Let’s go talk to her, see what she’s made of,” Rainbow said.
“Yes let’s,” Cadance said, and Applejack nodded in agreement.
“Go ahead, I’ve got a date with this alcohol.” Rarity mimed taking a swig from a mug.
“Okay,” Twilight says. She looks to Chrysalis. “Slash, you see this trio of tough-looking adventurers approaching you. What do you do?”
Chrysalis was caught off-guard. She was amazed how quickly the others slipped into character, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Rarity, in particular, had undergone an incredible transformation. “I . . . uhm, I would like to . . .” She looked down at her spell sheet, wondering in vain if anything there would help her. “I’d just . . . not look at them as they come closer.”
“Alright. Firefly? Do you want to lead this conversation?”
“Sure thing.” Rainbow gazed at Chrysalis intently, her brow furrowed in a threatening way. “Hey you.”
Silence overtook the table as all eyes went to Chrysalis. Taking the hint, she responded. “What?”
“I hear you’ve been looking to share in an adventure with someone, right?”
“Perhaps.”
“It just so happens that we’ve been looking for a new . . . intern, of sorts. What do you say to that?” Rainbow looked to Twilight. “Do you want me to roll a persuasion check?”
Twilight shrugged. “If Prism wants.”
“Yes,” Chrysalis said. “I’d like to play hard to get.”
Twilight laughed. “Okay, so that’s how it’s going to be. Roll persuasion,” she said to Rainbow.
Rainbow scooped up a twenty-sided die with dexterity that Chrysalis could never match and rolled it onto the table in front of her. She glanced at her character sheet. “Eight plus . . . one. Nine.”
Chrysalis raised an eyebrow and regarded Rainbow scornfully. “Trying to impress me?” she said as Slash Lyric. Her voice suddenly sounded less like Prism Brush and more like Chrysalis. “You’re going to have to try harder than that.”
“I’d like to interject,” Cadance announced. She sat up a little straighter and assumed a more royal air. “My dear lady, my name is Angelic Whisper, a Cleric of Chauntea. Would you mind if we joined you for a drink?”
Slash Lyric gestured to the vacant seat in front of her.
“Thank you, now we’ve heard that you’re an adventurer. Is this true?”
“Yes, it is. But I don’t plan on joining up with just any old band of miscreants.” It felt good to say. It felt good to be snarky and vindictive. Even though the words came from her character.
“Well, I’m sure that you’ll find that we’re much more than just any old band of miscreants. If you would be willing, we would gladly allow you to travel with us and share in the benefit of being in the presence of our goddess Chauntea.”
“Our goddess?” Rainbow said.
“Yeah,” Applejack added. “Don’ try to force yer hokey religion on us again.” She turned to Chrysalis. “Don’ listen to her. The real kicker is all the gold we bring in.”
“Roll a persuasion check, Angelic and Midnight,” Twilight said.
After a moment of clattering dice, Cadance and Applejack announced their results.
“Ten,” Cadance said.
“Eighteen,” Applejack said proudly.
Twilight looked to Chrysalis, but didn’t say anything. Chrysalis took this as an invitation to proceed. “Gold, eh? That is something I am in need of.”
“Then can we call it a deal?” Rainbow asked.
“For now,” Chrysalis replied. “But no promises for later.”
“Okay!” Twilight said. “With that done, would you like to turn in for the night? Is there anything you want to do before that?”
“Drink, mostly,” Rarity said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a proper ale.”
Rainbow tore open a bag of chips with her teeth. “I’m good. Let’s go to bed, go find some adventure in the morning.”
“And with that, you all go to your respective rooms and go to sleep. Hours later, you awaken, refreshed. When you go downstairs to get breakfast, you notice that the bar is significantly less crowded than it had been last night. The only pony at the bar is a tired-looking old unicorn.”
“I’d like to sit next to him,” Rainbow said. “See if he has any gossip for us.”
“Okay, when you do, he looks at you sort of apprehensively but doesn’t say anything. You see that he’s really worse for wear. He’s got a couple bruises on his face and he looks like he hasn’t slept in days.”
“Hi there, friend. Rough night?”
“ ‘Not really, no,’ he says.”
“Uh-huh.” Rainbow tapped a pencil. “I would like to see if he’s lying.”
“Roll an insight check.”
“Nineteen.”
“You can tell that he’s not necessarily lying, but he’s not telling the truth either. You get the impression that he doesn’t really want to talk to you.”
“Too bad, ‘cause I’m gonna talk to him anyway.” Rainbow leaned in, glaring. “Is that so? Cause you look like you’ve been wrestling manticores.”
“Roll persuasion. Or intimidate, if you like. By the way, is everyone else down here watching this conversation?”
“I’m sleeping in,” Rarity said. She brought a juice box to her lips and sipped.
“Everyone else?”
Nods around the table.
“Anyone else want to get involved? What was your check?” she asked Rainbow.
“Not great. Six for intimidate.”
“No good. He just looks at you in an unimpressed way and doesn’t say anything. Anyone else?”
“I would also like to intimidate,” Chrysalis announced. “But first I’d like to shapeshift into a griffon.”
“You can do that?” Rainbow protested.
“Okay, roll a D20 and add your modifier. It should be . . .” Twilight leaned over, squinting at Chrysalis’s character sheet. Her eyes widened. “Plus six.”
“Plus six?” Cadance asked. She looked over for confirmation. “How do you get that so early?”
“Changelings have massive boosts to intimidate and deception,” Twilight said. She laughs a little. “Forgot about that. Anyway, roll away.”
Chrysalis levitated the die into the air and gave it a spin, allowing it to clatter down onto the table. “Nineteen plus six. Twenty-five.”
All eyes turned to Chrysalis, excited.
“Yep, that definitely does it,” Twilight said. “What would you like to say?”
Chrysalis thought for a moment, then began to speak: “Listen, you. I don’t care what kind of night you had. I’m going to make this very simple. You’re going to tell us what made you so tired, and I’m not going to feed you your own legs. Are we understood?”
Twilight laughed. She took a moment to compose herself. “ ‘Y-yes of course!’ he stammers. ‘There’s a group of necromancers what’s been terrorizing the cemetery, bringing corpses back from the dead. I’ve been with the city guard trying to keep them off the streets.’ And upon closer inspection, you do see the insignia of the guard on his sleeve. So, you just threatened a lawman, congratulations.”
“That sounds like something worth investigating,” Cadance said. “Necromancy is an abomination to Chauntea; we cannot allow them to continue.”
“Where is this cemetery?” Chrysalis continued.
“ ‘At the far east side of town, you can’t miss it!’ ” Twilight replied, the deep voice she’d been using for the lawman raising slightly.
“Then let’s go,” Rainbow said. “No time like the present, I say.”
“You all go ahead, I need to take care of something,” Chrysalis said.
“Okay. I guess we all file out, except for Slash,” Cadance said, giving Chrysalis a curious look.
Twilight pressed her hooves together. “Now that the others have left, it’s just you and the lawman.”
“No bartender?”
“Conspicuously absent.”
“Alright. Then I would like to impale him with my sword.”
Gasps and cries of protest sounded around the table. Twilight’s jaw hung slack. She shook herself, looked down at her notes, then back up at Chrysalis. “Umm, okay . . .” She frantically shuffled through papers. “Roll . . . roll a sneak attack roll, I guess.”
Chrysalis rolled, ignoring the apprehensive buzz from the other players. As the die came to a halt, she glanced at her character sheet. “That’s a twenty for the sneak attack.”
“Natural?”
“No, modified.”
“Okay!” Twilight’s brow furrowed in concentration. “You thrust your sword into his back and he collapses to the ground in a crumpled heap. He’s still alive, but just barely.”
“Can I stab him again?”
“Before you do, he looks up to you, coughs up some blood and spits out one word: ‘Why?’ ”
Chrysalis lowered her voice to a whisper. “I can’t have you telling anyone that I’m a Changeling, now, can I? I promise, this is nothing personal.” Chrysalis mimed pulling her sword from the victim. “Just.” She thrusted. “Good.” She thrusted again, deeper this time. “Business.” She buried her blade to the hilt.
Her murderous actions were met with stunned silence.
“Well that was indeed unexpected,” Rarity said.
Cadance and Twilight were both regarding Chrysalis with unease, but Rainbow grinned ecstatically. “Okay, that was awesome. You’re hired. I’ll even let you skip the paperwork.”
“You’re not there, you went outside,” Twilight reminded her.
“Well Ah’d say we’re off to a good start,” Applejack said. She snorted amusedly. “Only met ya five minutes ago and you’ve already up and killed a guy.”
“This campaign is definitely going to be an interesting one,” Cadance agreed.
Chrysalis shrugged. She found herself breathing heavily. “Neutral Evil. It’s what I do.”
Twilight, still looking very shaken by the event, shuffled her notes once more. She looked slightly flustered. From what Chrysalis knew about Twilight, she knew that she hated deviations from the plan. “Now that that’s done, would you like to join the others outside?”
“First I need to hide the body.”
Rainbow raised an eyebrow. “Your thoroughness scares me a little, to be honest.”
“Roll . . . I don’t know, roll a stealth check, I guess. We’ve never had to hide a body before. I don’t really know if there’s a body hiding mechanic.” Twilight flipped open a manual, searching the index. After coming up blank, she shrugged and looked up to Chrysalis.
“Seventeen.”
“I suppose that’ll do it.”
“Then I’d like to hide him under the bar.”
“You do that. He’s invisible to the casual observer, unless they decide to go behind the bar.”
“Now I’ll join the others outside.”
“At this point I’d like to come downstairs,” Rarity said.
“Huh?” Twilight said.
“I slept in, remember? I missed all of this. I’d like to go outside with the others.”
“Hiya Jade, have a nice sleep?” Rainbow said.
“Oh, most definitely. I’m not sure if any of you noticed, but there’s a very unbecoming blood stain on the floor inside. I wasn’t sure where it came from, do you have any idea?”
All eyes flew to Chrysalis, who shrugged. She inwardly cursed. Only an amateur forgets to clean up the blood. “No idea.”
“Roll a deception check,” Twilight said, determined to regain some control of the goings-on.
Chrysalis complied. Her emerald-colored twenty-sided die tumbled across her character sheet and came to a rest near her printed ability modifiers. Cadance and Rarity, sitting on either side of her, leaned in to see the result.
Slash Lyric watched her companion, the mighty Midnight Strike, soar through the air, tossed aloft by a vicious attack from the massive armored bulette they were fighting. Midnight twisted in midair, managing to land on her hooves despite the velocity of her trajectory. Her legs buckled beneath her and she tumbled to the ground. The massive armored creature then turned to Slash and broke into a charge.
Slash tensed, raising her longsword in preparation. The bulette didn’t get far; it was stopped short as Jade Thunderbuck bull-rushed it from the side and took a mighty swing with her warhammer. The heavy weapon impacted with the dull sound of metal on metal, and part of the bulette’s iron-hard shell caved in under the blow. The creature shrieked its discomfort and rounded on Jade, hissing menacingly. Jade roared back, much louder than her foe.
Taking advantage of the bulette’s distraction, Slash rushed the beast. Carrying her sword before her, she rammed it at a chink in the armor. The blade missed its target by mere inches, ricocheting off the armor and sending sparks into the air. Cursing, Slash pivoted out of range and waited for the beast to move.
Several meters to her right, Angelic Whisper bent over the crumpled form of Midnight Strike and placed a hoof between her eyes. She closed her eyes and muttered something unintelligible. A rose-colored glow emanated from where she made contact with Midnight, spreading from Angelic to the fallen fighter. Midnight’s heavy breathing eased and some of her bruises and cuts started to fade.
Hovering above, Firefly launched a volley of flaming arrows from her bow into the gaggle of animated skeletons that was slowly shambling towards Angelic and Midnight. The skeletons barely heeded the attack, continuing their march as though nothing had happened. Frustrated, Firefly shouted a curse in some language that Slash didn’t understand at the bulette. The skeletons seemed to pause for a brief moment, then continued their march.
Midnight brushed Angelic's hooves away and hauled herself upright. Sword grasped in her teeth, she charged at the skeletons. The reanimated piles of bones payed her no mind; their gaze was firmly affixed on Angelic. The one she accosted barely turned its head when Midnight’s blade ripped cleanly through its spine. In a continuation of the movement, she whirled and drive her blade across another’s legs. Both skeletons crumbled to bones, lifeless. The two who remained slowly turned to Midnight, bones rattling threateningly.
Behind her, Slash heard the sound of a tussle as the bulette leaped on top of Jade, pinning her to the ground. The beast lunged at Jade with its toothy maw; Jade rolled side to side as best as she could with the massive forelegs pinning her down.
Slash briefly closed her eyes, focusing. Her twisted horn ignited with venomous green eldritch energy and sent an undulating beam of fire at the two remaining skeletons. Both were buffeted by the wave, one crumbling under the onslaught. The other stayed standing, but looked to be inches away from collapsing itself.
As the skeleton turned to hiss at Slash, an arrow exploded through the back of its skull. Firefly dropped from the sky and alighted next to Slash, already nocking another arrow in her bow. She swiveled and fired a shot at the bulette, whose armor plating deflected it effortlessly.
At that point, a huge umber hulk dropped from the ceiling in front of Angelic, and . . .
“Wait, what’s an umber hulk?”
Twilight stopped mid-sentence. She looked to Rainbow Dash, who was regarding her confusedly. “It’s pretty much like a big, apelike bug.”
Rainbow shrugged. “Good enough for me. Can I put an arrow in it?”
“It’s not your turn.”
“I still have one more attack!”
“No, you used it on the bulette.”
“Wait,” Cadance interjected. “I think we skipped me.”
“Did we?” Twilight said. She looked down at her notes. “Initiative order . . . yeah, Angelic goes after Slash. Firefly is at the top of the round.”
“Okay . . .” Cadance flipped through her spell sheet. “Who needs healing?”
“I’m hurting a little,” Rarity said.
“Then I’ll give Jade a Cure Wounds at . . . second level.”
“Thank you very much, Angelic.”
“Alright, is that your turn?” Twilight asked.
“Uh . . . sure,” Cadance said. “Not much else I can really do.”
“You do have an umber hulk breathing down your neck.”
“Oh yeah! Then I’d like to take a swipe at it.”
“Roll a melee attack.”
A twenty-sided die clattered on the table in front of Cadance. She looked between the result on the die and her character sheet. “Twelve?” she asked hopefully.
“Nope, not quite. The umber hulk dodges to the side and your mace whiffs.”
Rainbow snorted. “Twelve?”
“Hey, I’m a healer, not a fighter,” Cadance protested. “Don’t forget who saved your life two encounters ago from those necromancers.”
“Next up is Midnight,” Chrysalis interrupted, eager to get on with the action. Cadance regarded her curiously, a look that Chrysalis determinedly avoided. Instead, she reached across the table to grab a few stalks of celery from the platter Rarity had set out.
“Alrighty then!” Applejack said. “Can I get to that umber-whatsit an’ attack?”
Twilight counted out the grid squares in between the two figurines, mouthing the numbers as she went. “Uh . . . yes, you can just make it.”
“Then that’s what ah do.”
“Roll an attack.”
After a drawn-out, heated battle, both the bulette and the umber hulk were finally felled. Slash tugged her sword from the unmoving corpse of the umber hulk and flicked the tar-like blood off the blade. Several meters to her left, she saw Firefly climb atop the bulette’s body, with Jade and Midnight standing close by. Angelic had knelt and was speaking quickly under her breath, eyes closed, communing with her goddess. Slash strode over to them.
The party gathered together, battered, bruised, and bloodied, but not broken. The carcasses of their foes laid at their hooves. Triumphant words were exchanged, cries of jubilee rang out through the cave, but the brief victory was not to last.
A dark tunnel loomed ahead, foreboding yet inviting. A faint wind caressed their hair. The faint smell of mildew and rot permeated the air. The party pressed forward, the promise of riches and glory hastening their step.
“And I think that’s where we’ll end it tonight,” Twilight announced.
A disappointed cry sounded around the table, one that Chrysalis joined in on. Rainbow pounded the table with her hoof, causing dice to bounce and figurines to topple. “C’mon! Can’t we at least get into the Underdark before you call it?”
“Or at least have a short rest?” Rarity added.
“You guys had five encounters, that was a really long session,” Twilight protested. “I should have ended it an hour ago.”
“I thought it was a good place to end, Twilight,” Cadance said. “Very dramatic.”
“Thank you, Cadance,” Twilight said. She leaned back, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. After a pause, she opened her eyes and her horn lit up, beginning to sweep dice into a bag. “Good session, you guys. That turned out to be way more exciting than I thought it’d be.”
“Mostly ‘cause we got ourselves a saboteur in the party,” Applejack said. “How many innocent merchants do yeh think you offed today, Prism?”
“It was only three,” Chrysalis said. “And you don’t technically know that I did, may I remind you.”
The group, laughing, began gathering up their supplies, packing away papers, dice, and miniatures. Twilight provided Chrysalis with a binder in which to keep all of her sheets.
“This means you’re coming next time, right?” Twilight asked hopefully. “Are you free next Friday?”
Chrysalis looked to Cadance, who shrugged. “I . . . I think so.”
Twilight beamed. “Fantastic! And Shining will be back by then?”
“I’m not sure, Twilight,” Cadance said. “Let’s just say a lot of things have to go right if Shining is going to be back in time.” Twilight’s smile faded a little, and Cadance quickly added, “But I’ll talk to him, see when he thinks he’ll be back.”
Chrysalis had almost forgotten that it was because of her presence here that Shining wasn’t able to make it to game night. She felt something almost like . . . shame? Is that what shame felt like? Twilight’s crestfallen face, pouty lips and downcast eyes . . . her lavender aura flickering ever so slightly. Chrysalis felt sorry for her. However, Twilight cheered up quickly, and the bad feelings passed.
The assembled players slowly filed out of Twilight’s house, talking amongst themselves, recounting the adventures they’d shared. Cadance and Chrysalis were the last ones to exit, with Twilight following them to the door and waving to her departing friends.
As they walked, Chrysalis played over the game in her head, reliving some of the more memorable moments over and over. Like when Firefly had coerced the city guard into letting them into the catacombs by convincing them that she was with pest control. Or when Angelic argued theology with that stuck-up priest of Lathander. Or when Slash dealt the final, decisive blow on that umber hulk.
“You seem to be in a good mood,” Cadance commented.
“Am not,” Chrysalis replied automatically.
“Are too. You were just smiling to yourself. Whatcha thinking about?”
“Nothing. And I wasn’t smiling.”
“Really? Then what do you call it when your lips turn up like that?”
“I wasn’t doing that. It’s dark, your eyes are playing tricks on you.”
Chrysalis spent the rest of the walk in silence, despite Cadance’s persistent attempts to make conversation. Her guard was slipping, though; she almost responded several times, instead of her customary icy silence. She found herself wanting to talk, to speak her mind for once. But she wouldn’t allow herself to. Opening her mouth would be an admission of defeat.
It had been a very long day. One that Chrysalis was ready to be done with. But when she collapsed into bed, dropping Prism Brush’s form and retaking her normal long-limbed splendor, she found herself as awake as she’d been hours previous. Chrysalis stared unseeing at the ceiling, her eyes automatically following a spider as it made its way across the wooden slats.
Chrysalis was horribly confused.
Changeling biology dictated that a member of the species could not feel love, or any emotion within that spectrum. Friendship, comradery, affection, harmony. All impossible concepts for a Changeling. And yet . . .
Chrysalis admired Cadance’s friends. They were accepting, friendly, and uproariously funny. They didn’t hesitate to invite a stranger to their game. Even if Chrysalis hadn’t been disguised as an adorable little unicorn, she imagined the end result wouldn’t have been too different. Twilight would have bent over backward to accommodate her if Cadance had just said the word.
Chrysalis had always scoffed at the Equestrians’ constant drivel about “the magic of friendship”. Such a thing had always been so ridiculous, so foreign. Chrysalis had dismissed it because it was something she didn’t understand. But now . . . Chrysalis felt a spark of something that a member of her species had never felt before. Friendship.
The silence and stillness became too much. Chrysalis levered herself out of bed and strode to the door. A light still shone from the crack beneath the door. Chrysalis shouldered it open and went out into the hall. Ahead, Cadance laid on the couch, a quill hovering next to her head and a roll of parchment spread out in front of her. A mug of something steaming sat on the coffee table, releasing the aroma of something minty. She hadn’t noticed Chrysalis.
“Cadance,” Chrysalis said in a low tone, announcing her presence.
Cadance looked up. The quill dropped from the air, puncturing the parchment and falling over. “Hi Chrysalis. Couldn't sleep?”
Chrysalis didn’t respond. She wasn’t sure what to say. She opened and closed her mouth several times, thinking better of what she was about to say each time. Frustrated, she exhaled heavily through her nose. She needed to get this off her chest.
“Would you like to sit down?”
Chrysalis complied, lowering herself into the armchair across from Cadance’s couch. She didn’t meet Cadance’s gaze.
“What’s up?” Cadance blew gently on the letter she’d been writing to dry the ink and rolled up the parchment, setting it aside to devote her full attention to Chrysalis.
“I . . .” Chrysalis closed her mouth firmly again. Cadance gave her a questioning look. “I like your friends.”
Cadance’s face bloomed into a rhapsodic smile. The brilliant golden aura that surrounded her pulsed, doubling in size. “Chrysalis! That’s fantastic!”
“No,” Chrysalis hurriedly added. “Cadance, you don’t understand, I like your friends. I’m a Changeling. That shouldn’t be possible.”
“What?”
“Changelings, we . . . we aren’t able to feel love, or friendship, or anything like that. The best we can do is consume it from others, but the true emotion of it . . . let’s just say that no Changeling has ever had a friend. We just evolved that way. But something happened to me . . . I don’t know how or what, but I’m . . . feeling. Cadance,” Chrysalis took a deep breath. “This is impossible, but I like your friends.”
Cadance looked on in stunned silence. Her eyebrows lowered and she tilted her head to the side. It was by far the most she’d heard Chrysalis speak at once. Chrysalis had never gotten personal. “Chrysalis, I . . . this is, um, really interesting. Do you have any idea what might have caused it?”
“You.”
“Me?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Probably.” Chrysalis kneaded her forehead with her hooves. “I have no idea. Nothing makes sense anymore. I just know that whatever happened happened in the past couple days.”
“And you’ve been with me for the past couple days.” Cadance nodded in understanding. “Could it have been . . .” She paused, resting her chin on her hoof. “Maybe back when I first healed you? When you threw me across the room?”
Chrysalis pondered, looking up. “Possibly. Maybe a little bit of your essence got . . . stuck.”
“Stuck?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never consumed from an alicorn before. Setting aside the disgusting implications of that . . . it’s most likely what happened.”
“You mean, a little bit of me is inside you?”
“And is wreaking havoc on my brain’s chemistry, yes.”
“How come you didn’t notice it before?”
“I don’t think it happens instantly. It’s taken a while for whatever it is to fully assimilate. So now that it’s had time to settle, I’m only now noticing the effects.”
Cadance laughed breathlessly. “You’re so . . . analytical about all of this.”
“It’s just chemistry.” Chrysalis shrugged.
“So . . . how are you feeling?”
Chrysalis looked down at her hooves. Her vision swam, and she realized with terror that her eyes were filling with tears.
