Things moved in the dark. What they were, Freeflight did not want to know. He had dwelt in the Citadel for his entire life, the son of a soldier from a long-since failed uprising. In that time, he had sometimes seen the things that lurked in the shadows. Strange, broken things created from Sombra’s failed attempts or those of the cursed beings he employed, or even more terrible things that had followed him in the distant past as he carved his swath of darkness across a then-nameless land.
The throne room was the worst. It was built to concentrate fear, and to draw more of it. In the dim light, Freeflight could see the tattered black banners of the extinct dark unicorn race slowly drifting in an unfelt draft. He was alone in the empty room, afraid- -but more afraid of what would become of him if he did not heed the call of his master.
Something slithered out of the darkness. Distantly, he saw the reflection of terrible green eyes, and he smelled a certain smell. Each of them had a smell. The dusty, crypt-like ancient smell of Sombra’s mane, or the perpetual stench of formaldehyde from Necrophilo, or the pungent aroma of Crozea, or even worst of all them all, the rotting-carnation reek of Twilight Luciferian.
This smell was different, and not quite bad. Like old, strange cheese. Freeflight had come to know it, and he closed his eyes, silently lamenting that it had to be HER.
Something rubbed against his leg. A set-beast, no doubt, or something equally heinous. Then there was a rush of air, and he felt the presence of a pony standing beside him.
“Hey there, little lady,” said a deep voice.
Freeflight opened his eyes. He had to. What he found was an enormous, incredibly manly stallion with wings so long and fluffy that they touched the ground.
“Oh, wait, sorry, bro,” said the well-built stallion, chucking viciously, momentarily showing his pointed teeth. “Thought you were a lady there. Sorry. Testosterone problems, maybe?” He flexed and raised his enormous, beautiful wings. “Or maybe you just need to work out? Come on, I can totally help you. I was going to go for a flight right after this meeting, you know, stretch my wings. The weather’s perfect, and the view? The view is just totes excellent. The whole city, like you could fit it in the frog of your hoof...” His hideous green-blue eyes narrowed. “Oh wait. Sorry, bro. I forgot. You can’t fly anymore. You’re basically an earth-pony.”
Freeflight held back the tears and smiled. “Yes,” he said, channeling the extensive training of long ago being utterly broken and rebuilt as a beautiful consort. “I am afraid that is true. I will not be able to join you.”
“Stop tormenting my gelding,” rasped Sombra from the shadows.
Freeflight gasped and nearly jumped. The sound of the king’s voice was his greatest fear- -but worse, that voice had grown so desperately weak. Something was terribly wrong.
Sombra emerged from the darkness, his hornless steward beside him. He was pale and thin, though he still wore full armor- -armor that looked curiously similar to a thinner dark-iron version of the Blue Knight’s.
The handsome stallion immediately shifted, assuming a new form with a plume of green light. The new form she took was that of a tall white unicorn, but with a skeletal and emaciated body and an orange mane that reached to the ground. Her eyes, to Freeflight at least, still looked like those of an insect.
“What’s the point in having him if not for entertainment.”
“I do not require his suffering. Only his loyalty, and his fear.”
Sombra approached the stairs to his throne, and much to Freeflight’s surprise the steward helped him climb the stairs. Something was indeed wrong, and it wrenched at his heart to see his king in this state. Though he was still young and handsome, it was as though his body were aging, and aging fast, assuming the whole of his lifetime at once.
“My king, is something- -”
“You both understand the nature of discretion, I’m sure,” snapped the Steward, standing by Sombra as he sat down in his throne.
“Y- -yes, steward. Yes, my king.” Freeflight bowed.
“And I don’t especially care.” The changeling shrugged. “If you kick it, I’ll just take the kingdom for myself.”
“At least Luciferian had the courage to issue the challenge while our king was still strong,” spat the steward.
“Because he was an idiot. Don’t get your horn in a knot. This kingdom doesn’t have anything I want. It’s good for a vacation, but I wouldn’t want to live her.”
“Nor was I strong when Luciferian challenged me,” said Sombra, darkly. To hear that tone in his king’s voice made Freeflight’s heartache. “I have been aging for some time. I realize that now. The Heart of Darkness has grown dimmer and dimmer with each passing year. At present the process has simply accelerated.”
“Again,” said the changeling, “this does not concern me. Why am I here?”
Sombra sighed and leaned back. Though he seemed sickly, his gaze was still as sharp and terrible as ever. Freeflight felt the need to recoil, or at the very least grovel, but the mare beside him barely reacted. She, after all, was a monarch as well.
“You are surely aware of the situation with my daughter.”
The changeling smiled, this time showing her long, pointed teeth. “I’m aware of what happened last night, yes. That she served you your own rump on a silver platter.”
Freeflight fully expected Sombra to react harshly. To his surprise, though, the king simply nodded. “My current condition is unbelievably painful. I let my temper get the better of me, and I lashed out. I am now paying for that loss of composure and foresight.”
“My lord,” said Freeflight, bowing. “I’m only a simple gelding. I do not understand.”
Sombra stared at him- -or past him. “Then observe, and observe closely.” He reached up and, though the steward moved as if to stop him, removed the chesplate of his armor.
Freeflight nearly fainted, and even the changeling’s eyes grew wide in horror.
Sombra put the plate back in its place. “The princess. Her magic is inherently toxic to me. And I myself am merely an organic extension of the Citadel, and in turn the Heart of Darkness. She, likewise, draws her power from it, but in a manner contrary to my own.” His eyes narrowed. “It is as though she was created specifically to capable of usurping me.”
“My lord, she would never!”
“That is not for you to decide, Freeflight; you are out of your depth.” Sombra stood, and as if without any difficulty paced down from his throne. “The princess is meant to be a weapon, one with enough power to challenge a goddess directly. Yet such a weapon is a double-edged sword: what can slay a goddess can also slay a GOD.”
“You’re losing control,” chuckled the Infiltrator.
“Tell me, changeling, have you ever seen a zebra cry?”
Her eyes narrowed. “No. Why would I want to?”
“That’s not the point.” Sombra sighed. “But you are correct. Crozea’s procedure had worked too well. The girl is whole, with her mind and body undamaged- -and that is exactly the problem. She is becoming a pony instead of a tool.”
“Sire, that is not necessarily a bad thing.”
“He did not order you to speak,” growled the steward.
Sombra raised his hoof, allowing Freeflight to continue.
Freeflight, of course, had originally had no intention of continuing his thought. “I- -I mean- -” He paused and took a breath. “I manage your stables,” he said. “And the girls are what they are only because they are whole ponies, not simply dolls. The state has its advantages.”
“Until it uses those advantages to attempt to terminate me. But you are not incorrect.” He paused, as if himself thinking of what to say. “There is more to my anger than my agony alone. When I looked into her eyes, I saw a reflection of myself. Of the fire that burned in my own gaze when I learned I was the very last. Understand that I do not regret. I am not capable of it, nor do I have the luxury as king. But I believe that to regain control, I may need to take a more traditional approach.”
“Meaning?”
Sombra smiled, though only slightly. “Meaning that I have a mission for you.”
The changeling raised an eyebrow. “I fail to see how this follows.”
“How old are you, Chrysalis?”
The changeling’s eyes narrowed. “Our years are not equivalent to those of ponies. I am a nymph in my second instar; we mature at a much more rapid rate- -”
“The king asked you a simple question,” said the steward, silently moving to the king’s side, her white and platinum uniform shimmering in the dim light. “And if you would, please discard that ridiculous form. Your excessive attempts to seem profound and edgy only betray your youth.”
Chrysalis hissed loudly, but changed; she assumed the form of a young filly, though maintained her default white-unicorn appearance. She also defiantly kept the same length of her orange mane. To Freeflight, she looked adorable; she even came complete with a lady-bug cutie mark.
“I am fourteen of your years old,” she growled with her high filly-voice. “Your point?”
“Then you match the princess quite well.” Sombra’s self-satisfied smile did not leave his face. “I therefore order you to be her friend.”
Chrysalis’s jaw dropped. “You- -you can’t- -”
The smile vanished from Sombra’s face. “I ‘can’t’ give my subordinate an order?’
“I am a QUEEN, I am not your subordinate- -”
“Then by all means, return to your species. Rule them, if you choose. Leave my kingdom or never return.” Sombra lowered his face to be level to hers. “Or serve me, and bask in the protection I offer you.”
“But my talents- -”
“Equestria is aware that we have a changeling agent,” explained the steward. “They let it slip in our last diplomatic meeting. There are ways you can be detected.”
“And I have ways around that.”
“And we cannot afford to put faith in your ‘techniques’ right now. Though we were able to eliminate YakYakistan, the tensions with Equestria have only grown in the process. Our neutrality is in jeopardy. For you to be captured, to serve as their excuse, a catalyst for a war...it is unthinkable.”
“Regardless,” said Sombra, “this task is not without importance. I need you to control and guide the princess, to let me maintain control of her in a way that her previous caretakers failed to accomplish.”
“But why me? She already likes Holder and Zither, and the golem- -and Gxurab is only a few years older than me!”
“And he is busy constructing a device critical to the survival of our kingdom,” snapped Sombra. “Emeth is an excessively talkative machine, Zither is a poor influence who would fill her head with stories of adventure and daring, and Holder is inherently unstable. I would rather not have my doomsday weapon sliced in half because a certain sword got ‘hungry’.”
“I, for one, would be happy to befriend the princess,” said Freeflight.
“Though you will never get the chance.”
Freeflight’s heart sank. He was oddly disappointing. “Sire?”
“I need agents who can relate to her on an equivalent level. To understand the parts of her that I cannot, and to manipulate her desires as needed to accomplish my goals.”
“You just don’t want a stallion around your little alicorn,” sneered Chrysalis. She looked sideways at Freeflight. “Oh, wait...”
“Indeed, I do not want a repeat of what happened to Hope.” Sombra did not look at Freeflight. “Are there any consorts available that are her age?”
Freeflight was somewhat taken aback, although he knew the answer. “There are girls in training, yes, but they are in a fragile state. I do not want to risk them unless I absolutely have to.”
“Then pick the most expendable consort I have and give it to the princess.”
A smile crept across Freeflight’s face. “I think I know just the one, actually.”
“Have her join Chrysalis. The steward will handle the introductions.”
“So I have to work with an amateur too?”
Sombra turned sharply, causing the changeling to squeak and jump back. “Stop complaining and DO YOUR JOB, changeling. I have duties to attend to. Running a kingdom, ensuring we avoid war, and ensuring its perpetuity. If you understood these things, you would be ruling your own kingdom instead of wasting time in MINE. The princess at least understands my role. Perhaps you will learn something from her.”
Chrysalis glared back, and then lowered her head. “Fine. It’s not like I have anything better to do anyway.”