//------------------------------// // Chapter 1 // Story: The Last Changeling // by GaPJaxie //------------------------------// The last thing Cheval remembered was worrying about her mother. Cadence lay unconscious on the floor, surrounded by palace guards. Flurry Heart had just finished saying something about forgiveness that Cheval had only half-listened to. She was distracted, wondering if she got the poison dosage exactly right. She only wanted to depose and kidnap her mother, not to hurt her. Flurry made a sudden movement. Too late, Cheval lifted her head. Green mist filled her vision. When the mist cleared, she was standing in her family’s living room, in the royal suite of the palace. Her lungs burned, and coughing seized her, but she retained enough awareness of her environment to notice that the palace guards were gone, as was Flurry. The only other creature in the room was standing right in front of her. It was her adoptive mother, Princess Cadence, a soft smile on her face. At once, Cheval tried to summon a defensive shield between the two of them. But her horn sparked, and a shooting pain raced through her temples. Still coughing, spluttering, she tried instead to turn into a fearsome dragon. But when she should have changed forms, little blue sparks crackled off her carapace, and pain erupted in her limbs. “It’s okay. It’s okay,” Cadence said, so soft she was nearly whispering. “You don’t need to fight.  You’re not in any danger.” With no other options, Cheval backed away from her mother until her tail hairs touched the door to the kitchen. She looked around the room, first in a panic-fueled rush, then in more detail as the coughing subsided. “I’m sure you’re confused,” Cadence said. “Flurry Heart turned you to stone with an alchemical grenade. We waited before restoring you. You don’t need to worry about the coup, or about me. That’s all over now.” Cheval still didn’t speak, examining the pony before her in detail. As her eyes wandered over the room, she noticed that every way out was shut: every door closed, every window shuttered. It was like standing inside a cave. When the silence grew too long, Cadence frowned. “I’ve… forgiven you, for poisoning me,” she said. “You made mistakes. You made a lot of mistakes. But that’s in the past. What matters is that you’re back now, and we can be a family again.” Finally, Cheval said, “Nice try.” Her voice dripped contempt and a sneer touched her face, showing off her pointed teeth. Cadence’s frown deepened. “Cheval, sweetie. It’s true. I know this is a lot to—” “Okay,” Cheval snapped, “Whatever your name is, a few tips. First, Mom doesn’t call me ‘sweetie;’ she calls me ‘dear.’ Second, her coat and mane aren’t actually that shiny. She puts on a lot of makeup to make them look that good in public, but I don’t see any makeup on you, so, maybe next time don’t base your disguise on photographs of the target. Oh, and third, this isn’t my family living room.” She pointed at an easy chair, sitting next to the couch. “That’s a nice chair. And that’s not supposed to be a nice chair. It’s supposed to be dad’s special chair, which is a stupid, threadbare, worn out bit of cloth and corkboard he brought all the way up from Canterlot because he’s convinced it’s the best chair in the universe and he refuses to throw it out.” She let out a snort to emphasize her words, then finished: “So how about you tell Amaryllis I’d like to speak with her, and that she can go fuck herself, not necessarily in that order.” Cadence said nothing for several seconds. She licked her lips and looked at the floor. “I called you ‘sweetie’ sometimes.” “No, she didn’t.” “And I switched to a new shampoo a few years ago. Some newfangled stuff with fancy chemicals in it. It works great.” “Not buying it.” Cheval laughed a thin laugh. “And we threw out that chair when it finally snapped in half.” “Good improvisation. Nice technique, really. But if that chair shattered into a thousand pieces, dad would glue every one of them back together.” She slowly shook her head. “I played in that room every day when I was a nymph. I read there when I was a teenager. I had to clean every inch of it when I tried to eat solid food and vomited slime over the carpet. You think I don’t know what it looks like?” “You were turned to stone,” Cadence said, her eyes still downcast. “Sure,” Cheval took a moment to think. “I’ll believe that. But Flurry didn’t ice me until after I put her on the throne, and if Amaryllis is bothering with this elaborate ruse, I take it that means Flurry is holding her own. Or, maybe she’s winning?” Cheval’s tone turned mocking. “Is the hive not doing so well?” “Amaryllis is dead,” Cadence said, her voice thickening. She licked her lips and added, “And we threw out that chair when it finally snapped in half.” “Heh.” A stiff smile appeared on Cheval’s face. “Fuck you,” she said. Then she added, “You think I can’t tell the difference between my mother’s love and another changeling regurgitating energy back at me? You’re a bad fake.” “I know this is a shock.” Cadence lifted her head to look at Cheval head on. “I didn’t want to leave you petrified for so long. But there is no Amaryllis. There are no changeling infiltrators anymore. The war is over. And whatever things you did, whatever mistakes you made, you’ve been punished enough. All I want is to help you and—” Cheval lashed out with a leg, kicking over an end table and sending it flying Cadence’s way. She charged, and as the flying projectile caught Cadence’s attention, Cheval lowered her head. With a burst of magic off her horn, Cadence deflected the table away. Moments later, Cheval wrapped a leg around Cadence’s neck and pressed her horn against her throat. Cheval’s horn came to a point like a sword. It’s tip drew blood from beneath a thin pink coat. Cadence gasped, and froze stiff on the spot. “You’re not my mother,” Cheval snarled. The doors to the hallway burst open, and crystal ponies in strange uniforms charged in. “Back off!” Cheval snapped. “Back off or I will kill this one.” “It’s okay,” Cadence gasped. “It’s okay, back away.” The guards did not seem inclined to obey her, forming a circle around the two of them. “Cheval, the… the windows are unlocked. They’re unlocked. You can jump out one and fly away.” After a moment’s hesitation, her eyes flicking back and forth, Cheval agreed. “Fine. Shuffle that way. Slowly.” It was an awkward movement. Cheval had to keep her head down, with her forehead pointed at Cadence’s throat. The guards moved around them as they moved, one tiny step at a time. Then they came to the window. “Go ahead,” Cadence said. “It’s fine.” “Open it,” Cheval ordered. The window glowed and the shutters lifted. Then the glass pane behind them swung outwards. A sudden blast of chill arctic air made it clear the window opened to the outside, and the sounds of city life could be faintly heard in the distance. Cheval shivered. Then she pushed Cadence away, spread her wings, and leapt out the window. She didn’t get thirty feet. The Crystal Empire wasn’t supposed to have skyscrapers. She squinted into the setting sun. A strange skyline was before her, visible only in silhouette. There were buildings that dwarfed the palace, carved from massive shards of imperial crystal. Trains on elevated rails ran down every street. A cloud city held station over the ground below, home to the pegasi who flew thick as flies. When the sun stung her eyes too much, she looked away. Eventually, a pink glow surrounded her, and Cadence’s magic pulled her back in through the window. Cadence was still there, along with all the guards. “You’re hurt,” Cheval said. Her movements were sluggish and jerky, but she managed to turn her eyes to the trail of blood running down Cadence’s neck. “I hurt you.” Cadence shooed the guards away. “It’s okay,” she cooed. “No harm done.” “No. No. I…” Cheval reached out a hoof to Cadence, putting it over the wound as though to staunch the blood. It was wholly unnecessary—she’d drawn only a few drops. “I hurt you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” “I know. I know.” Cadence said. “It’s okay.” A faint shiver in Cheval’s torso built to a trembling in her limbs, until her hoof couldn’t hold steady on Cadence’s neck. Blood smeared. “No no. I hurt you. I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” “I know. Cheval, I’m your mother.” Cadence reached out to hold her with both hooves. “I know you. I know what happened. I know who you are, I know what you are, and I love you. I’ve forgiven you for everything that happened. I want us to be a family again. I want you to be happy again. It’ll be okay.” Cheval worked her jaw open and shut without making a sound. She flicked her tongue over her pointed teeth. “How long?” she asked. Cadence drew in a breath. “Fifty-two years.”