//------------------------------//
// Chapter 1 
// Story: To Love the Changeling Queen 
// by Mightyfinemorning 
//------------------------------//

	Streams of sweat rolled down Lock On’s face. His eyelashes did nothing to perform their duty of keeping the salty liquid from his eyes. Soon another liquid began to flow, tears filling the eye sockets in response to the foreign invasion that was taking place. Blinking did not help and merely served to mix the two liquids into a much worse amalgamation, which in turn forced more involuntary spasms from the eye in response. He lifted his right hoof, discovering that it was covered with sand particles of various sizes. They stuck to his fur like metals to a magnet, tightly wedged like parasites clinging to their host. It was absurd to even think about sweeping his eye with it.

Another drop trickled down from his forehead; a sure proof of the body's perspiration process combating against the desert heat that attacked him relentlessly. Ever since he had set a hoof on this forsaken land, the Sun Princess’ boon had become a bit too much for him to take. His tongue darted inside his mouth, desperately searching for a source of fluid other than that of his own. But even the saliva he would have eagerly collected and swallowed, which, of course, had long gone extinct from his mouth, evaporated in the boiling air that his nostrils kept sucking in, despite his attempts to stop. He felt like the wind coming at him was from the deepest depths of a volcano, heat at the extremity to incinerate any being that came into contact, or at least threaten to do so.

The signs were obvious, too obvious. He simply could not take it. A pony's body was not built to be resistant to this arid climate. Still he ignored them all, expecting ample discipline from his body like the good, worthy Guard Pony (the official title was 'Royal Guard,' but almost everypony preferred the term 'Guard Pony') he was. When presented an order, he simply followed without a doubt and obeyed the command. That was how he acted, and he had yet to find much fault with it. It was hardly going to be any different in the future. He was to make sure of that. Some were born to lead, some were born to follow; it was as simple as that, and since he belonged to latter, he had already resolved to perform this role ever since he became a Guard Pony.

The first task he had performed when he was accepted into the rank had been to dye his fur grey, and his mane and tail white. He was to be a Guard Pony before he was Lock On. His status had changed, and he himself had changed as well; at least his external self. His body was now accustomed to endure more than the normal unicorn would be able to do, to resist external influence much more, as befitting the title of the Guard pony.

The glaring rays of sunlight, however, were affecting his appearance. His dyed gray fur was bleaching fast and taking a dingy yellowish hue. It was so long ago, he had forgotten what the original color of his fur was. He resolved to look up his childhood photo later, when he would be finished going through this ordeal.

Still, it was his role to follow the command and focus on what was given to him. Lock On knew he could overwork himself. His declining strength was replaced by his firm resolve, locked on to the mission he was supposed to accomplish. Despite all odds, he was going to cross the desert because there was an order to do so, which was what he was doing right now.

Though, eventually the moment came when his body could no longer endure the harsh command he had received. He was not quite apt to handle the situation, whatever his initial resolution was. Never before were the orders this harsh, making him to trudge through this inferno.

Suddenly Lock On found himself standing still, unable to move at all despite standing above the heated surface that was nearly burning his hooves. The automated movement processes commanding his muscles were on the verge of breakdown, and now everything had to be done manually, his mind trying to register every step he took and order relevant parts of his body to be moved. His legs were constantly being dragged down, slowing his advance, and in turn putting more pressure on his already tired body. The large, broad hat he wore could not prevent the blazing heat from assaulting his head, and it made him feel dizzy. Or perhaps it was doing as best as it could, barely holding against the inevitable tide which threatened to consume everything in its path.

So hot. It took a lot before he could say the obvious words that accurately described this place. The high temperature was having a strange effect on him, slowing down his mental process. The machinery of his mind signaled the warning sign he could no longer put aside. The prospect of being roasted alive no longer seemed to be an improbable possibility, his brain taking the aspect quite seriously despite the sheer absurdity of the thought.

But no, it was not. The chances were very real. Lock On perceived the land he was standing on to be the domain of the fiery spirit, whom pledged no allegiance to Equestrian land and operated independently.

Really hot. He was only able to think that very specific phrase now.

Yet so cold later in the day when the night's dark veil came from the West, gradually covering the sky. Lock On’s body involuntarily shuddered at the thought, remembering how bitter the last night's sleep was. Actually, it had hardly been sleep at all, but rather a constant losing battle to keep the fire alive with his magic while his body felt numb and his teeth clattered on their own in reaction to the lack of warmth, which only a few hours ago had choked him to death. Lock On thanked his body for being a unicorn and thus able to use magic without exerting great strength; though, it was a shame he could never understand how cooling spells worked, resulting in the very uncomfortable situation he was in right now. Maybe he ought to read the Basic Magic book more closely about the subject after this.

Yes, when this was all over; so much more an immediate issue he now faced of which he somehow had to resolve, one way or another. Of course, he particularly favored a method that retained his body and mind in one sound piece.

So what could be the order so important that made him come all the way here? Lock On tried to think. Concentrate. He did not get his name, Lock On, and his cutie mark, a crosshair, for nothing. Focusing was his special talent, if he could attach onto a target he thought worthy of pursuing, like obeying a command from the Captain of the Royal Guard.

Whatever it was, he knew there had to be a reason for him to venture into this land, trudging through the burning sand; the land where even the Sun Princess’ warm benevolence became twisted into all-consuming flame like those found in the deepest pits of Tartarus. And of course, the Moon Princess’ grace fared no better, reminding him more of the Mare of the Night with her cold, icy snicker than the beloved Princess Luna's warm smile. The land lacked their proper care; perhaps it was because it was situated outside Equestria. Or more importantly, because this land belonged to the Changelings. At least that was what others had said about this place.

Changelings. The accursed name should have infuriated him, made him feel righteous, to grow angry and swear to banish them all! They were, after all, ponykind’s enemy, infiltrating the very capital city Canterlot and choosing to defile what should have been the most glorious and happiest day since Princess Luna’s return. The Royal Wedding was set to be perfect, and the day was indeed going to be spectacular; only to be ruined by the unexpected appearance of the Queen of the Changelings, proclaiming herself as Chrysalis and declaring to take Canterlot by force.


Yes, Chrysalis… Lock On’s mind tingled slightly, and in his focused state he did not miss the sign. To be exact, he could not. Chrysalis. How could he? Chrysalis.

Chrysalis, Chrysalis. Lock On kept uttering the word, not caring that his mouth became much drier every time he said something. Chrysalis. Why was he speaking the name of the enemy who all of Equestria feared?

Because he loved her, that was why. He was going to meet her. There was no doubt; he was in love with the Changeling Queen, and he wanted to meet her and confess his love. His mind was completely locked on to this very sole purpose. The order came not from himself, no, but from the natural law that allowed a pony to feel, to think...yes, it was that.

There could be no other explanations; he was caught red-hoofed. From the moment he saw her, his fate was sealed, allowing no other alternatives but the one he was following at the moment. It did not matter that the Changelings were believed to spawn beyond the Equestrian border, in the burning desert where nothing lived except their kind. The order was to seek her and confess his love, let her have him; thus gaining the Queen's love in the process.

“Chrysalis,” Lock On muttered, savoring the pleasurable feeling of pronouncing the very word. He was supposed to say it with disgust, but did not. How could he not indulge towards her? It was as they say, love at first sight. The Queen, the beautiful Queen, was lovingly alluring. Her large eyes, emerald green pupils burning with malice and spite, did not deter him at all, but only made his decision to meet her firmer. He saw the gem in her reptilian eyes, waiting to be mined by the brave, lying deep inside the treacherous cave which denied entrance to many. But he was coming to take it, to be the exception to the rule. The grotesque holes in her legs... No matter, he said to himself. It was the emptiness he was meant to fulfill for her; it had to be. Every feature of her body he found superb, just for his liking…

“Chrys-a-lis.” He was never trained in the art of linguistics, but he thought he could recognize the beauty of the word he spoke a moment ago; her very special form transferred to it. First there was the ch sound, the sharp sound like a fatal, yet enticing, thorny rose that greatly roused his interest. The hissing sound of the letter s felt dangerous; a challenge that he felt he needed to take, and in turn he would ultimately be rewarded accordingly. At the end was the syllable lis, which, after the alluring aspect of doom, offered a softer side, like the tender flesh inside the hard chitinous shell.

Her deadly cadence he should have feared; yet only the lovely melody he heard.

Every breath he inhaled came with the stifling dry air, but it was not going to stop him. Lock On kept walking. Even the bone remains of an unknown creature he found on the way could not dampen his mood, for he was going to meet Chrysalis, whom he dearly loved and couldn't bear not to find. He was locked on to finish his mission successfully, and nothing could stop him. His body, now heavier than ever, still moved under the firm command.

So hot, so cold, no matter; Lock On would bear all the extremities that the land threw at him.