“Are you sure about this?” Smolder asked as she knelt on the end of the hospital bed, holding Ocellus’ forelegs just above the elbows. The changeling’s eyes were wide open, and her back, especially around her withers, had developed what had started as a twitch but by now had become an ongoing series of convulsions, accompanied by an occasional wet crack. The whole thing frankly would have been frightening to look at and hear if not for Ocellus’ reassurance that everything was going fine.
Ocellus nodded – maybe, with her convulsions it was actually kind of difficult to tell. “Y-y-yesh,” she stuttered out, her jaw not quite moving right. “I-i-it’ll hhhelp.” With Smolder having to hold onto her upper forelegs, Ocellus was, Smolder couldn’t help but feel, very close to her. The distance disappeared entirely when Ocellus leaned forward, pressing her forehead against Smolder’s chest to brace herself. “O-on-n-n th-three-ee…o-one…t-two-o…three!”
Smolder grabbed onto Ocellus’ legs tightly, holding the changeling in place even as Ocellus pulled as hard as she could against the grip. The result was the loudest crack yet. Ocellus’ carapace split open from behind her horn, down her head and neck, and about halfway down her back. There was a feeling beneath Smolder’s hands like there was something moving under the carapace, because there was: Ocellus herself. The head and forelegs of her carapace went limp, but at almost the same time Ocellus’ real head and forelegs emerged from her old carapace, her new one a pale bluish-white and covered in a clear, shiny fluid. She set her hooves – the only part of her body that retained all of its former rigidity – atop her old carapace and held still for several seconds, taking in long, deep, shuddering breaths that sounded desperate. She shook her head just as Smolder moved to help her. “It’s fine – I’m fine – this is – normal,” Ocellus gasped out.
Smolder nodded, trying not to look down at the carapace’s old head – a head that looked like Ocellus’ own and with Ocellus’ face, but now limp and split, leaking whatever fluid Ocellus was covered in, its eyes having lost their shine.
Eventually, Ocellus began struggling, trying to slide more of herself from her old carapace. Smolder helped with that, grabbing where Ocellus directed on her old body and holding it steady while Ocellus pulled herself from it with a series of wet cracks and pops. As soon as her new elytra – which were likewise much, much paler pink than was normal for her – were free Ocellus opened them wide, spreading her nearly transparent wings. The wings seemed far too short at first, neither as long as their respective elytron, but as Smolder watched they actually grew steadily in length with each deep breath Ocellus took, as did the gossamer frill that ran along her neck and head.
“Are your wings full of air or something?” Smolder asked.
Ocellus shook her head. “No it’s – blood but – I’m timing – my breaths – to my – heartbeat,” she gasped out. “I need – to make – sure my – new carapace – expands.” Her breathing eventually slowed down to a more regular level once her wings were the length they were supposed to be, and she nodded to herself. “Okay, back half…um…” She glanced at Smolder, a blush readily apparent with how pale she was currently. “U-um…th…this is…awkward to ask…”
Smolder glanced to Ocellus, then down at where her hindquarters were still in her old carapace, and quickly put two and two together. She felt a blush creep beneath her own scales, and wondered if it showed through. “Uh…I might be able to…” she came up alongside Ocellus, sitting down next to her but facing the other direction, and reached around to grab her old carapace’s waist – but when she got too close to Ocellus’ still-sensitive, still-delicate new carapace the changeling let out a sound that was half-hiss and half-whimper, flinching away.
Smolder backed off, then looked to Ocellus. “There’s no way to do this without getting behind you, is there?”
Ocellus offered a weak, embarrassed grin, turning more red. “I…I can get out myself,” she said, struggling a little, kicking her legs like they were trapped inside of too-tight pants that were refusing to come off, “…eventually…”
Smolder felt herself exhaling a small amount of smoke as she got behind Ocellus, slowly reaching and laying her hands just in front of Ocellus’ hips on her old carapace. She didn’t break eye contact with Ocellus as she did…and wasn’t sure if that made the situation less embarrassing, or more, given what this position would look like to any creature that walked in on them.
“Ready when you are,” Smolder said, trying to sound casual about it despite being all too aware that her good wing was spread wide and her tail was wagging with a little too much enthusiasm.
Ocellus nodded, taking a few breaths before pulling herself forward, Smolder holding on tight. After a few seconds of struggling there was a wet pop, and Ocellus pulled herself completely free of her old carapace. Smolder made absolutely certain that she was staring at the ceiling rather than Ocellus’ plot as it came free, and did her best to ignore the relieved sigh from Ocellus that almost sounded like…something else.
Ocellus slipped from the bed once the process was done, standing with her four legs spread apart, elytra and wings wide, gossamer tail behind her slowly growing out the same way her wings had. Her entire body was still slick, her new carapace glistening brightly in the hospital room’s light. The fact that her new carapace lacked fuzz at the moment – that would take a few days to grow in – also contributed to the shine. It honestly made her look like a living statue carved from pale lapis lazuli, with two brilliant sapphires for eyes…
Smolder wasn’t sure how long she stared at Ocellus, but eventually the changeling moved, slowly sitting down like she was worried the experience would be painful and breathing out a sigh of relief when it wasn’t. She was very deliberate with her movements as she pressed a hoof to her chest, prodding lightly at the carapace, wincing a little at the touch. But she then looked to Smolder, and offered a tired but real grin. “Did I get any taller?” she asked.
Smolder blinked a few times, before shaking her head, bringing herself back to the here and now. “Uh…no, I don’t think so,” she said, hopping off of the bed and breathing out a little more smoke, trying to get her temperature under control. She stood next to Ocellus, holding a hand out to Ocellus’ withers. “The same, I think.” She reached a little closer to Ocellus, but stopped herself before actually touching her, pulling back quickly.
Ocellus, however, reached up and grasped Smolder’s hand with both her hooves. She looked the dragon head-on. “I know you’re curious,” she said. “You…you can feel it, if you want. Just b-be careful.”
Smolder had frozen at Ocellus’ touch, unsure at first despite Ocellus’ assurance, but curiously eventually won out an she slowly reached forward, placing her fingertips on Ocellus’ withers. Ocellus took in a sharp breath, and Smolder almost withdrew, but the changeling leaned up into the touch and held Smolder’s hand in place. So Smolder slowly, carefully ran her hand across the base of Ocellus’ neck, where she occasionally scratched her friend to reassure her. The fluid that still covered Ocellus was slick and oily to the touch, while her carapace was far softer and more pliant then Smolder was used to.
“I-it’ll take most of a d-day to harden fully,” Ocellus explained, eyes fluttering closed as Smolder’s fingers slowly rubbed the soft carapace, the dragon making sure to apply no pressure at all beyond what Ocellus wanted. “I’ll – ngh, that feels weird…I’ll d-darken down to my n-normal shade t-too…ngh…”
She was so vulnerable. Smolder’s instincts were pretty slow on the uptake with regards to how to deal with other creatures, but right now she knew that Ocellus was tiny and delicate and vulnerable…and yet instead of wanting to take advantage of that, to extend her claws and dig them a little into Ocellus’ new carapace, mark her, establish herself as stronger and torment the weakling, all Smolder wanted to do was make sure that nothing and no creature got close to Ocellus.
And Ocellus…this couldn’t be normal for a changeling, could it? Letting some creature touch them while their carapace was soft and delicate? Ocellus wouldn’t be able to molt into a new one even with another molt-inducing tincture for weeks, and one wrong move, one extended claw or snorted flame or even particularly hard push could damage the carapace, leave Ocellus in pain for that whole time…but Ocellus continued to instead lean in to the touch, occasionally lick her lips, feed on Smolder’s greed.
Changelings can get addicted to false love, Smolder reasoned, and she’s been eating so much of my greed these past few days…if a changeling eats too much of one emotion from one creature, could it…?
Smolder snorted a little more smoke, withdrawing her hand as quickly as she could without risking harming Ocellus. She used a towel to dry the molting fluid off of her hand. “R-right,” she said, trying to take back control of the situation. She needed to distract Ocellus quickly, before the changeling smelled or tasted the change in her mood. “Um…I can’t really smell much except smoke right now, but if I remember last time, you need a shower about now.”
Her light jab had the desired effect. Ocellus’ blush was immediately noticeable beneath her pale carapace, her cheeks actually turning truly red as she let go of Smolder’s hand. “S-Smolder!” she exclaimed, though she lifted a leg to her mouth and breathed in deeply. “It’s…it’s a new carapace smell. It’s nice!”
Smolder crossed her arms, pointing over her shoulder at the discarded old carapace. “That’s sort of a corpse, and the last time you molted, even after a week you didn’t notice the smell.”
“I mean…I did notice it! I just didn’t think it was that bad…”
“Uh-huh. But what is soap, right?”
Ocellus glared up at Smolder at that, trembling a little with her annoyance. “You’re lucky it’s a bad idea for me to shapeshift right now,” she said, leaning forward and gently poking Smolder’s chest. Or firmly. Her natural form wasn’t exactly strong enough for Smolder to really be able to tell the difference. But after that she did turn around and head towards the hospital room’s bathroom, which they’d already confirmed contained a small shower with a head that could be set to “mist”, a gentle enough water flow for Ocellus right now.
She stopped just outside of it, however, and pointed at her old carapace. “Don’t get rid of that,” she insisted.
“Yeah, I remember,” Smolder said, waving a claw. “It’s lunch for the next few days.”
“Exactly. And don’t have any without me!”
Smolder waved that off too, though it was only when Ocellus had stepped into the bathroom that she realized what Ocellus had implied – that it wasn’t going to just be lunch for Ocellus. Smolder shifted a little, looking back at the discarded carapace that had the contours and facial features of her friend…that Ocellus wanted her to help her eat. Dragons could eat just about anything, of course…and Ocellus sharing it was probably a big deal to her.
Too big a deal. The last time Ocellus had molted she’d hidden in her top bunk in an almost draconic fashion, asking – nearly demanding, as much as she was capable, anyway – Smolder leave her alone. Granted that wasn’t long after first meeting her. Nevertheless, Ocellus changing gears so much, wanting Smolder around, asking for help, letting her touch her new carapace, and now offering to share her old one…
Smolder didn’t like the implication. She grunted, making her way from the hospital room and out into the hall. Ocellus and Smolder had requested to be moved up to the same level that Chrysalis was on, a request that the hospital staff had granted after a little cajoling from Smolder and gentle words from Thorax. The floor still had both pony police and changeling guards, since in spite of Chrysalis’ earlier words and Thorax’s assurance that she was turning over a new leaf, she wasn’t exactly trusted yet.
Ocellus probably wanted to be on the same level as Chrysalis out of concern for the former queen, a desire to be there if she was needed. Smolder, for her part, had a slightly different reason. She walked over to the door to Chrysalis’ room, waving at the guards outside. She’d expected to have to talk them down, but the ponies deferred to the changelings, and the changeling outside just unlocked the door for her and let her in.
She found Chrysalis still resting on the hospital bed, a cup containing a familiar-looking maroon, thick liquid in her hooves. She was finishing it, retching slightly at the taste as she did. She locked eyes with Smolder as soon as she finished. “I am certain that Ecdysis spat in this,” Chrysalis said, waving the molt-inducing tincture’s cup before setting it down on her room’s table. “Joke’s on her, it improved the taste.”
Smolder regarded the cup, then looked to Chrysalis, grinning a little. “I don’t even want to know what that stuff tastes like if changelings hate it.” She considered, then crossed her arms as she leaned against one wall, careful of her injured wing. “Speaking of…what goes well with carapace?”
“I find anything becomes palatable when drenched in enough honey,” Chrysalis said with a wave of her hoof, “but the carapace itself should taste like lemongrass, perfectly fine on its own. Do you remember when I told you that alone time is a punishment for changelings? The only exception is when a changeling is molting. We prefer to be alone then, while our new carapace hardens and until we’ve finished eating our old one. We’re vulnerable. Weak. We used to despise weakness. One more thing Thorax has changed, I suppose…”
Smolder felt herself grunting again. Given how vulnerable a newly-molted changeling was and their inborn fear of starvation, she’d figured as much already – and that made her suspicions about what was happening with Ocellus all the worse. “So what would it mean if a changeling shared it?”
Chrysalis let out a low hiss. “Typically, it meant that we had been having a very rough patch, so I forced them to share their molts so that as many bugs as possible could eat.”
Smolder shifted. Forced them to share. That’s what she’d figured. “Y-yeah,” she said, glancing down. “Ocellus has said she likes the taste of my greed, and we’ve spent a lot of time together the past few days, just the two of us…and she actually let me touch her just now after molting, even though I’m pretty sure it hurt her a little. I think eating my greed is starting to affect her, somehow. Like, I think it’s making her want to be part of my hoard. I think I need to spend some time away from her – ”
“Hhhzzzkkk!”
Smolder started at the hiss, stepping back and looking back to Chrysalis, who was glaring at her with undisguised contempt. “You are an idiot, dragon.”
Smolder fumed – literally, smoke came pouring out of her mouth. “Says you! You want me to start listing your problems? I don’t have anything else to do tonight!” She smacked her tail against the nearby wall for emphasis.
“I have more on my plate than even you could count, but apparently I have to set it all aside and deal with you and your problems! You. Are. In. Love!”
Smolder growled. “No I’m not! Dragons don’t – ”
“Yes you do! I eat love! I’ve eaten draconic love! I know it’s smell, it’s taste. I know every kind of love from every kind of creature and I know that you are in love with Ocellus!”
Smolder growled again, stomping up to Chrysalis’ bed. The changeling queen lifted her head to look Smolder dead-on, not intimidated at all. “No, I’m not. I want Ocellus in my hoard. I want to own her. That’s not love, that’s just avarice!”
“Which is love, you stupid lizard! Or it is for you!” Chrysalis leaned forward. “Not every creature parses love the same way. You are a dragon, greed isn’t just some other emotion for you, it’s a feeling woven into every aspect of your biology!” She reached up one hoof and jabbed Smolder, with a lot more force than Ocellus could. “Of course you want to own Ocellus, make her yours. Because things that are yours are things you can protect. And you want her in your lair because that way you can be around her, be near her at all times. And that is love.”
Smolder tried to turn away, but Chrysalis lifted her hoof and put it to Smolder’s chin, turning her back with far more strength than Smolder would have thought the injured queen was capable of. “I bet if we got the Princess of Food here, Cadance would tell you all sorts of things about how love is made up of these big romantic gestures. Fighting a beast or delivering a hundred thousand flowers or presenting a horn-ring with a diamond so large it would cause neck problems. That’s how ponies like to think of love. But do you know what kind of love is sweetest? Most filling?” She released Smolder, leaning away. “The kind that simply makes you want to be around the creature you love. No gestures. No great proclamations. Just…sitting in a room, in the quiet.” She looked pointedly into Smolder’s eyes. “And that’s how dragons parse their love all the time. You are in love, Smolder, you’ve fallen for Ocellus and every changeling can tell.”
Smolder clenched her fists, glaring right back at Chrysalis. “And the fact that I want Ocellus sitting on top of a pile of gold and gems? I want her as a crown jewel?”
“You’re still a dragon. Cadance’s version of love involves lovestruck idiots inflicting grievous bodily harm on themselves if they’re not careful. Love is always a risk. But tell me this,” Chrysalis jabbed a hoof at the door. “If Ocellus told you she hated you and never, ever, ever wanted to see you again, and say there was nothing you could do to change that, what would you do? Be truthful, Smolder, I’ll know if you’re not.”
Smolder didn’t even need a moment. “I’d go back to the dragon lands. I’d drop out of the Friendship School. Or…” she thought, grimacing. “No…I wouldn’t want to just abandon all my other friends. Maybe move to another dorm? But I’d leave Ocellus alone like she wanted…I’d try to, anyway.”
“So in either case you’d give her up? Respect her wishes rather than try and make her yours? Seems like you have a handle on your greed already.” Smolder went to retort, but Chrysalis cut her off with a sweep of her hoof. “Also? There’s something you missed: Ocellus eats love too. I said every changeling can tell, didn’t I? She knows full well how you feel towards her, and she invited you to help her molt, be by her side during one of the most vulnerable periods in her life. Take a hint, Smolder!”
Smolder kept her glare on Chrysalis, fists clenched, good wing extended, tail lashing back and forth behind her…for all of five more seconds. But then what Chrysalis said, what she meant, hit her. She felt her eyes widen, her wing and tail gradually droop, her fists unclench as this information washed through her. “Ocellus…loves me?”
Chrysalis rolled her eyes, laying back down with her head in one hoof. “More of a snack than a meal at the moment, but yes, and if she asked you to help with her molt then I’d say her feelings have grown considerably. I think I remember her shouting something like, get away from my Smolder at Cacophony. You deaf, blind idiot.” She waved a hoof imperiously at her hospital door. “Do what you want with this information. I don’t care, I’m just sick of your ignorance.”
Smolder leaned away from Chrysalis, crossing her arms – hugging herself, as her good wing extended around her as well. Ocellus loved her too? Wait, too? Was she really accepting what Chrysalis said that fast? But on the other hand she was an emotion-eater…
She felt her tail wagging back and forth again. Stupid thing had a mind of its own. She also noticed the smug look on Chrysalis’ face, and scowled. She was not going to let Chrysalis win the conversation like that. “Well, thanks for the relationship counseling…Chryssy.”
Chrysalis bristled. “If you ever call me that again – ”
“Did you prefer Nonny?”
“I would prefer you show proper respect for the True Queen of the Changelings!”
“Hey, I’m not a changeling.”
“No, you’re a dragon and I know where you live, so if you keep it up I’ll find your hoard and take every last jangle.”
“You put one hoof on my hoard and I’ll – ”
“Oh I won’t be me when I do it. I’ll be you. It’s my hoard too! I deserve some of it.”
Smolder roared. Chrysalis hissed. The pony police officers outside rushed into the room, but the changeling guards, scenting the truth of the matter, were slower. Both found that while Smolder and Chrysalis were forehead-to-forehead glaring at each other, they were also both grinning slightly.
“I hate you,” Chrysalis said.
Smolder was certain that Chrysalis was trying to take advantage of the fact that Smolder couldn’t smell emotional cues, hoping that the dragon didn’t know that while she said hate, she meant something else. She decided not to push the issue. “I hate you too…Chryssy,” Smolder said – daring the queen to come after her hoard. She turned and walked from the hospital room “Have a fun molt.”
Smolder made her way back over to her hospital room. She found Ocellus waiting for her, having stepped from the shower, carapace now glistening with water rather than whatever fluid it had been covered in. She was in the middle of the room, laying towels on the ground.
She gave a sheepish smile to Smolder as she entered. “Sh-shower was nice, but, uh…drying myself w-without hurting myself is gonna be d-difficult.” She shivered a little.
Smolder was beside her the moment the shuddered. “Are you cold?” she asked, reaching out to put a hand on Ocellus before remembering herself. But when Ocellus nodded slightly, she still scooched closer to the changeling even as she stopped breathing, letting her inner conflagration start heating up her scales. “Just lie down on a towel, I’ll get you dry,” she said.
Ocellus complied, and Smolder set about the delicate task of trying off Ocellus without applying too much pressure or friction to her new carapace, which mostly consisted of laying them over Ocellus so they could soak up as much as possible, Smolder exhaling hot air over the towels to get them warm. She worked in silence, since talking meant breathing, which meant cooling her inner fire.
In time, Ocellus was dry (except her wings, which even normally were delicate and needed to be air-dried, nevermind these newly-molted-in wings), and Smolder uncovered the changeling. With one bed currently occupied by a discarded carapace – and its sheets stained with the molting fluid that leaked from it – Smolder easily gave up her own bed. Ocellus lay on her stomach on it, and Smolder carefully maneuvered the sheets around the changeling so they lay across her back but under her still-spread wings and elytra. When she noticed a shiver from the tiny changeling, she wasted no time in getting down next to Ocellus, spreading her good wing – which was just as heated as the rest of Smolder – over her back.
Ocellus finally broke the silence then with a giggle. “Y-you know,” she said pointing at one wall, “you could have just adjusted the room’s temperature.” Before Smolder could move to do that, though, Ocellus scooted a little closer to Smolder, pressing herself against her through the sheets. She winced slightly at the initial touch, but quickly leaned more into it. “I prefer this, though. You’re still like a heated pillow.”
Smolder chuckled. “No I’m not. I’m a dragon. My scales – ”
“Heating pads.”
“Well, my wings – ”
“Blankets. Definitely heated blankets.”
“The shock of my tail is a thunderbolt. Leave me with that, at least.”
Ocellus tilted her head a little so her compound eyes could see behind her, look at Smolder’s slowly wagging back-and-forth tail that in no way resembled a thunderbolt, shocking or otherwise. “Okay,” she allowed anyway. She lay her head on the pillow, even as Smolder curled her arms to use as a pillow for her own head.
Neither Smolder nor Ocellus spoke for some time after that…but Smolder’s eyes were open, and so were Ocellus’. They didn’t break eye contact, instead listening to the sound of Ocellus’ breathing, and Smolder’s own longer, slower breaths. The occasional flicker of Ocellus’ wings, or the gentle swishing noise of Smolder’s tail sweeping through the air. The occasional sound of Ocellus slipping her tongue out of her mouth, licking her lips…tasting the air, and Smolder’s emotions in it. The greed – the desire to have Ocellus, to keep her close, to be around her. The love.
Ocellus moved her head a little closer to Smolder’s. Or Smolder moved closer to her. She wasn’t entirely sure. She was sure that the movement didn’t stop, even though her eyes and Ocellus’ own drifted closed the closer they got. Just as Smolder lost sight of Ocellus, however, she found her again, her lips brushing Ocellus’ own.
From the outside, it wasn’t great. Neither had mouths exactly designed for kissing, the shapes were wrong. But Smolder nevertheless felt her inner fires blaze to life. A conflagration raced through her veins, making her curl her toes. When the kiss ended, she drew back. Her intent had been to half-open her eyes, to try and give a smoldering – ha! – look to Ocellus and maybe say something disarming, to keep Ocellus off-balance.
Instead her eyes shot open as Ocellus leaned in again, far more powerfully, pressing her lips to Smolder’s own with frankly surprising force for the tiny changeling. The fire within her burned even higher, to the point where a small part of her remembered to remove her wing from Ocellus lest she burn the changeling. Another small part noted that if that was an issue then it sure wasn’t stopping Ocellus from kissing her. Of course, most of her had abandoned thought entirely, in favor of losing herself in Ocellus’ lips.
Ocellus finally broke the kiss, leaning away and taking in great, deep breaths, tongue tasting the air again and again for several seconds. She finally settled down, half-opening her sapphire eyes and smiling at the effect she’d had on Smolder.
“Mine,” Ocellus said, breaking the quiet at last, her word containing an almost aggressive hiss within it. But then her gaze softened, and she reached out and put a hoof in Smolder’s open hand. “Please?”
Smolder blinked at the declaration, at being claimed…at being added to Ocellus’ hoard, like Ocellus was a part of her hoard. Their hoard. After several long moments, her wing draped over Ocellus’ back once more, and she leaned in, tapping the tip of her snout to Ocellus’ own. “Yours.”
Chrysalis had begun her life biting and pounding and tearing herself loose from being trapped within a dead tree. In a sense, the very first thing she had ever done was molt. So she was well used to it, and the difference between her Reformed form and her original one weren’t nearly large enough to make the experience all that different. She tore herself loose from her old carapace with practiced ease, although before doing so she’d made sure to telekinetically move everything in the hospital room in front of the door, ensuring that she wouldn’t be disturbed, or at least that she’d get ample warning.
Well, there were the windows. But she pulled the curtains for those, doing her best to simulate the small, dark cave she’d rather be molting in. But this was the best she could do with what she had, and it wasn’t really all that bad. In the old Hive she would have had changelings outside her chambers guarding her while she molted and her new carapace hardened, and this was almost the same.
“Is this a bad time?”
Chrysalis couldn’t help herself – she let out a yelp, while her head was still mostly buried within her old carapace. She flailed while her legs were only halfway out of her old legs. The action caused her to slip from the bed she was on, fall over, and she grimaced in preparation for what would be blinding pain as her body impacted the floor…but there was no impact. There was instead the shimmering sound of telekinesis holding her in place, then a series of cracking sounds. Piece by piece her old carapace was sliced apart without touching Chrysalis beneath it, though whoever held her captive saved her former face, in an awkward position staring at the floor and blocking her view of who held her, for last.
But eventually, Chrysalis found herself looking at the Father of Monsters. “Grogar!” She exclaimed.
“Good, you remember that much,” the ancient goat noted, his expression unreadable as he lifted Chrysalis and set her back down on the bed. He waved a hoof at the door to the room and a silencing spell appeared over it, even as his telekinesis also re-assembled Chrysalis’ old carapace. He watched his own work with interest as he fused the seams and cracks together into a perfect whole, a replica of Chrysalis’ old carapace…which he then began crushing in his telekinesis, smashing, compressing it all down with wet crunches until the carapace was a ball maybe a foot across. He then let it fall to the floor and shatter.
Grogar finally turned his gaze back onto Chrysalis, as the pieces of the carapace ignited, burning with blue fire before disappearing entirely. “This worked out well for you. I could take out some of my frustrations on that instead.”
Chrysalis tried to weigh her options…and none of them looked good. Her new carapace was soft, easy to damage, sensitive to even the slightest touch. The delicateness of the carapace also made changing shape a monumentally stupid idea; it was possible, but the pain would be so great that even Chrysalis doubted if she could function after it, not to mention the damage it would cause. Simple telekinesis and magic was an option, albeit likely to damage her carapace around her horn…but in terms of a raw contest of magical power against Grogar, Chrysalis knew she came up woefully short.
But she would not let her fear show. She struggled to stand and get down from the bed, spreading her elytra and new wings wide, taking in deep breaths to get her carapace to expand properly. Grogar actually waved a hoof nonchalantly at that, as though giving her leave to continue. Once she felt her new carapace no longer retract inwards too much when she exhaled, she tried to flip her mane casually – only to remember that at the moment, she didn’t have a mane. Or tail, for that matter, nor the fuzz and mantle that her Reformed state possessed. She found herself oddly missing the mantle in particular – the hospital room was cold to her soft, fluid-covered new carapace.
“This – this is an unexpected surprise, Grogar,” Chrysalis began. “I did say I would take perhaps two weeks vacation, and it hasn’t been even one…”
“And yet you’ve been busy,” Grogar noted. His horns flashed – and Chrysalis couldn’t help but wince – but instead of harming her, a copy of Equestria Daily appeared, with an overhead picture of Tiatarta dominating the front cover, and a headline that read “Trouble in Tiatarta!”. “Quite the understatement,” Grogar intoned at the title. “When I read this I thought to myself, no, not Chrysalis! She is a master of disguise, after all! There is no way she could be so stupid as to reveal herself to the ponies!”
Chrysalis scowled at the accusation, setting aside how strange it was to learn that Grogar read newspapers. “I revealed nothing,” she said. “I was found out… the creature who did it had magic that could see through my shapeshifting! It was nothing I could have anticipated.”
Grogar scoffed. His magic flashed, and the paper burned to ash. He walked over to the window, pulling one curtain aside slightly and glancing out. “And yet here you are, recuperating in a pony hospital. I understand you were even visited by Thorax and Twilight Sparkle. What is it you would say in your trade? Oh, yes…” he turned away from the window. “Your cover has been blown!”
“It’s not my fault!”
“I don’t care!” Grogar stomped away from the window, getting close to Chrysalis. “I want to know one thing and one thing only. What have you told the ponies? How much do they know about me, about Tirek and Cozy Glow, and our plans to bring ruination to Equestria?”
Chrysalis held her head up high. “Nothing,” she said – truthfully. “I’ve barely given you a second thought, Grogar. I’ve been…busy. There was a threat to my changelings, a colony they’ve established here. I needed to eliminate it.”
Grogar rolled his eyes. “I could have sworn that I’ve told you before that I don’t care about you or your problems! But you haven’t spoken to any creature?” His horns flashed, and magic washed over Chrysalis with an odd snap sound. She recoiled at it, but it didn’t seem to do anything to her. Grogar snorted. “Well that was unexpected. You’re telling the truth, it seems. And that makes deciding what to do with you all the more difficult.”
Chrysalis bristled, a bizarre feeling without fuzz. “What are you talking about?”
“Your resolve!” He lifted a hoof and prodded Chrysalis, hard, in the shoulder. Despite herself, Chrysalis gasped in pain, falling back and away at the touch. She glanced down and saw her new carapace was indented there now, she could feel it pushing against her in ways it wasn’t supposed to. She hissed at the sight, but counted herself lucky. It would be annoying and uncomfortable, but she could live with it until her next natural molt.
Grogar pressed on. “I recruited you to my side out of some modicum of respect for your age and power and skill. But now I read in the paper that you helped to save a town of ponies. Thorax and Starlight Glimmer are both in this town right now, two of your most hated enemies, and yet you lay here comfortably in a hospital.”
Chrysalis waved a hoof at her slick, soft body. “What am I supposed to do? A breezie could defeat me right now, or how I was before with my carapace breaking open!”
Grogar’s eyes narrowed. “Ahh…so you were biding your time, then? Taking advantage of pony hospitality and Thorax’s desire? Waiting for the perfect moment to strike, after you’d recovered?”
“No,” Chrysalis answered. That much was the truth. But she pressed on with something that was decidedly less so. “I remember watching what happened to Sombra, mighty Grogar. None of us are strong enough on our own to defeat Twilight Sparkle and her friends. Only together will we have the power. So yes, I planned to bide my time, recover in this hospital, perhaps even finish my vacation. But then I would return to the fold. At worst the ponies would have known where I had been – but they believed me to be free anyway, so nothing has changed. And if I disappear again, leaving them with the impression that I’ve changed? If anything this could work out well for us.”
The Father of Monsters kept his glare on Chrysalis for a few moments, before a slow smile crept across his face. “Insidious,” he allowed. “Exactly what I would expect from the Queen of the Changelings. Very well, Chrysalis. I still don’t trust a word you say – but you have impressed me enough that you will be given a chance to prove your resolve.”
His horns glowed, and yellow-black magic seized Chrysalis. She let out a gasp of pain at the feeling of all the fluid covering her dissolving, and another when a sensation like tiny needles across her entire body began. But even as she did, she saw and felt the result of the magic: her new carapace stiffening and hardening, the fuzz and the fur of her mantle growing back in seconds, joined swiftly by the full length of her mane and tail. The magic released Chrysalis, and she patted herself down, eyes wide in surprise at having had her tanning process accelerated. She looked back to Grogar. “Thank you, mighty Grogar,” she said, doing her best to sound grudgingly submissive.
“You can thank me by serving your purpose when the time comes for us to conquer Equestria,” Grogar responded. He turned from Chrysalis, yellow-black magic shooting at a nearby wall. A portal opened up, beyond which was the central chamber of Grogar’s lair. “But your vacation is over after this debacle! We are returning to the lair, now.”
“Of course,” Chrysalis allowed, though she couldn’t keep from grumbling, at least outwardly. Grogar would expect that.
Inwardly? Inwardly she was screaming. First and foremost because her royal sensibilities simply could not abide being commanded by any creature, ordered around like she was their servant.
But second…because this was not how thing were supposed to be happening. Chrysalis had wanted to return to the Hive, to see what had changed, what needed fixing and what Thorax had done right, determine for how long her effective appointment of him as ruler in her stead would last. Changelings had changed, she had come to accept that. They were exposed, but they were fed…and she was still their queen, and she had wanted to find out what that meant in this new paradigm that Thorax was no doubt clumsily, but also sincerely, trying to adjust to.
And yet here Chrysalis was, stepping through the portal, leaving behind the cool air of the hospital room and stepping instead into the moist, clammy air of Grogar’s hidden lair. What choice did she have? Grogar was ancient and powerful beyond her ken, he had demonstrated that readily and repeatedly. She was no match for him on her own, and she wasn’t going to throw her life away for nothing. And so she found herself with her hooves on wet stone, her eyes adjusting to a dank, dark, cool cave.
Grogar had just stepped through the portal himself when Chrysalis remembered something – or rather, realized she had forgotten something. “Wait!” She exclaimed, turning around just as the portal closed. Grogar looked to her curiously, and she met his gaze. “I forgot something in the hospital room. My…stick.” She realized how lame it sounded, but she wanted the shadow to remain her secret, something she kept from Grogar. “It’s important to me.”
Grogar rolled his eyes. “Is it?” he asked. “Then its absence can serve as a reminder for the consequences of failure.” Chrysalis started to object, but Grogar glared at her, horns glowing bright. “Yes?” He demanded.
Chrysalis retreated back a few steps at the glare. She shivered. “N…y…yes, mighty Grogar,” she got out at last.
“Good. Go do…whatever. But don’t leave the lair! Cozy and Tirek will return in a few days, and then this vacation nonsense can be over and done with!” He tromped off towards his own private chambers, disappearing into the darkness of the lair. “Then, we can get back to our plans of conquering Equestria!”
Chrysalis watched him leave, then shifted, looking around. Without Tirek tromping around or working out, or Cozy Glow flitting around being saccharine and trying to make friends with the two of them, the cavern was devoid of other creatures and the sounds they would make. The small pond in the cave was absolutely still, its surface as smooth as glass, and nothing lived in it to cause even the slightest ripple. There weren’t even any insects or bats or other animals that might have provided at least some background noise, a spell cast by Grogar kept them all out so that his cave would remain clean.
She scuffed a hoof on the floor, and listened to it echo. It didn’t do much to stop the ringing in her ears…the cacophonous silence that reigned over the cave. Chrysalis hated silence…because, she now realized, she hated being alone. She was a changeling. She didn’t do well on her own.
And yet…here she was. Alone. But only for a few days, only until Tirek and Cozy returned. Then she could learn what the two had gotten up to in their camping trip to Gar-Centauria, even as she told them about Tiatarta, impressed the centaur and the maybe-pegasus with her skill in uncovering an insidious plot against her changelings, how she’d defeated a mad alchemist cat and an insane alicorn-changeling and her army of hybrids with the aid of Ocellus and Smolder, how she’d spoken with Thorax and learned about how much her changelings had changed and how she was going to go back to the Hive and find her own place within it, find out what being queen meant to the Reformed changelings…
Yes. She only had to endure the silence for a few more days, and then Cozy and Tirek would return. The cave would fill with sound not of her own creaton again. The silence would end, and she wouldn’t be alone…
…and then…