Doctor Heart hadn’t been joking yesterday. Alicorns had a powerful set of lungs. From the moment she’d stepped into the building, Chrysalis could hear her voice, shaking the building as she cursed and threatened all the way up to the hospital room. Perhaps his generosity the previous night hadn’t only been for the changeling’s health.
The door glowed with an ethereal light before swinging open hard enough to leave a handle-shaped hole in the wall. The umbral princess marched in, wings flared. Twilight followed her like a shadow. The moment Luna had crossed the threshold, the lights began to flicker. The blinds snapped shut, leaving the only source of light the glowing horn atop the princess’s head. It shone against her mane like the moon amidst a sea of stars.
Before Chrysalis could protest, the magic took hold of her restraints. With a tilt of her head, Luna pulled the chains as tight as possible, immobilizing the queen. She bit her tongue, unwilling to give the princess the pleasure of hearing her scream as the cuff constricted around her wounded leg.
“Speak your defense, Creature.” The room shook at Luna’s command. When she received no response, she pulled the chains tighter, cracking the changeling’s hardened carapace. Chrysalis grit her teeth, unwilling to turn away from the princess.
“Luna, I think you’re hurting her.” Twilight took a half-step forward but didn’t intervene.
“Good.” Luna growled. The hesitant alicorn swore she saw one of the stars in Luna’s mane vanish into the inky void.
“What is the meaning of this?” Doctor Heart appeared in the doorway, the clipboard in his magic flailing wildly.
“Doctor, I’m ordering this thing to be taken to the Canterlot dungeon, where she will remain until her trial.”
“I can’t let you do that, Princess.” Heart stamped a hoof defiantly as he took his place between the angry goddess and his patient. “My patient is still recovering. I have not given permission for her to leave this hospital.” Chrysalis couldn’t help but feel annoyed at the fear wavering in his voice.
“Stand aside, Doctor. I would hate for you to have to join her.”
“Princess Luna, that’s enough.” Twilight’s words carried authority that her tone couldn’t match.
“You would let her get away with such a thing? Look at her here, lounging in a nice soft bed while Celestia . . .”
“I know you’re frustrated, Princess. Believe me, I understand. But that doesn’t mean I intend on letting you torture my patients.”
With that, Luna released her spell, flooding the room with light once again. Chrysalis didn’t relax, though. That little stunt had stripped a decent stretch of flesh from her already hurting wound. The red stain had already leaked through the two lowest sheets and into the cushion below. Though the relatively tiny doctor had struck a nerve, Luna didn’t shift her focus from her target.
“It’s a pleasure to see you as well, Luna.” Chrysalis flashed a wicked smile.
“Tell me what you know, Changeling. I can make your day far worse,” Luna exclaimed, flaring her nostrils.
“Fine, I shall tell you,” Chrysalis began. Twilight braced herself. She didn’t know what the queen planned to say, only that her words were about to make the situation much worse. “I did really like you better as Nightmare Moon. The style and grace were simply divine.” She cackled.
To her credit, Luna showed decent restraint. “Tell me what you’ve done to my sister or prepare to spend the next millennium as a statue.”
“My dear Luna, I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.” While the words dripped with sarcasm, they weren’t a lie. Chrysalis turned to the bedridden princess. “What could I have possibly done while chained like this? Go ahead and ask your Doctor.
“You lying little . . .” Luna released a frustrated groan. “Tell me how to fix her. Now.” The royal voice had returned, much to the dismay of every patient in the building.
“Luna . . . ” Twilight started.
“Tell me.” Luna stepped forward, losing patience.
“Luna, what if she’s telling the truth?” Twilight raised a hoof toward the princess.
Every pony in the room turned toward her, even Chrysalis. Luna was the first to speak. “You believe her?”
Twilight turned toward Celestia, worry etched in every line of her face. “No. I mean, if I thought she knew the truth, she’d definitely lie to us. I’m saying what if she doesn’t remember?” She motioned to the doctor. Luna turned toward him as well.
“I suppose it would be possible.” Doctor Heart scratched the back of his head. “When Twilight brought them both here, Chrysalis was in bad shape. Starved and dying. It’s entirely possible she can’t recall what she did.”
“Are you defending her?” Luna snapped.
“Are you defending me?” Chrysalis echoed.
“All I’m saying . . . ” he took a step back from the angry ponies. “Is that it’s possible she doesn’t remember.”
“Regardless.” Luna returned to glaring at the changeling. “I am ordering that she be moved to the dungeon. The warden will know how to get the information from her.” A chill fills the room at her words.
“Absolutely not.” The doctor regained his defensive stance.
“They would be gentle, Doctor.” Luna’s threat felt eerily gentle.
The doctor sighed, stepping aside. When Luna tried to step past him, he addressed Twilight. “Princess, what is your verdict?”
“My verdict?” She asked, looking between the two.
“Princess Luna believes Chrysalis should be persuaded to give information. Given Princess Cadence’s past with the patient, I would place her firmly in the same camp. So, what about you, Princess Twilight? Should she be taken from her bed?”
“Why are you asking me?”
“I have no intention of stopping a unanimous decision from the Princesses. If you were to disagree, though, that would be different.” All eyes fell on the alicorn. The doctor looked sorrowful, Luna upset, and Chrysalis surprised more than anything else. Twilight found herself retreating from their gazes.
“I . . . I don’t know.” Twilight finally admitted. The answer surprised no one. Despite that, the tension in the room shattered. Luna watched the windows, as if studying the cloudy streaks across the glass.
“I know that isn’t what you want to hear . . .” Twilight fumbled her speech. She tried to start a few more times and made no progress through her thoughts.
“I see.” Luna interrupted the flailing princess. “If Twilight cannot come to a decision, then that is that.”
“Princess Luna . . .” Twilight started.
Doctor Heart quieted the alicorn with a hoof on her shoulder. “Princess Luna, if she can’t decide, then I think we should postpone the judgement.”
Twilight and Chrysalis both expected Luna to be angry, but she wasn’t. Rather, she seemed somber.
“I’m sorry, Princess. I just thought . . . “ Luna silenced the other princess with a wave of her hoof. Without another word, she walked to the door and out into the hallway. “I didn’t mean to upset her.”
“You made the decision you thought was right. There is no shame in that, Princess.” The doctor smiled. “If it makes you feel any better, I respect you for it. It can be difficult to go against your friends. Especially if your friends are important, like the princesses.”
“Thanks Doctor, but that doesn’t really make me feel any better.”
“I know, Princess. Now, I’d best go attend Princess Luna. I’d hate for her to get lost again.” He added with a chuckle. “Please, Princess Twilight, feel free to stay as long as you’d like. I’ll be back later.”
Twilight nodded as the doctor left, letting the door close behind him. She used her magic to flip the light switch, leaving the room doused in sunlight. With a somber slowness, she moved to her mentor’s side, pressing her muzzle against Celestia’s neck. The flowing mane above her head brushed against the mare’s horn.
“Twilight?” Chrysalis started, not daring to face the alicorn. Her only reply was the curt drawing of the white curtain between the two beds. She couldn’t work up the nerve to say anything else. Instead, the changeling queen preferred to focus on various points of interest around the room. While her gaze struggled to focus on anything other than the lavender alicorn, her mind held no such qualms. An image appeared in her thoughts, portraying Twilight, pressed close to her princess, crying softly into her fur. Chrysalis’ chest tightened.
Then her vision shifted. Though she simply sat and watched a small mite of dust float through the air, her thoughts lay miles away, back in her hive. One of her personal chambers, to be precise. Despite the name, drones flew back and forth above, crawling through small passages cut in the rock. The echo of swarming wings brought a sense of ease to her, as fake as it was.
She recognized her old room. A large bed tucked away in one corner. A table with a few chairs gathered haphazardly around it. The far wall held nothing but shelves, lined with tomes of varying size and shape. Changelings rarely found interest in reading, preferring to use the stories as training for their infiltration. Even with all her furniture, though, Chrysalis rested firmly on the floor, her legs stretched out in every direction. A soft red rug cushioned the dense stone. She’d been trying to sleep. Her eyes felt heavy, and she often had to shake herself awake during particularly heavy drowsy spells.
A small nudge against her chest drew her attention downward. A small nymph slept beneath her; its tender flesh encased in a warm blanket, snoring quietly. Occasionally, his breath would catch, causing him to fidget in his sleep. She could feel him shivering against her icy chitin. Every so often, she would lean over, watching his face. His eyes hadn’t opened in over a week. When night arrived, she would drape herself over him, trying in vain to shield him from the cold gale that roamed the wasteland nights.
A quiet sob teased Chrysalis back into the hospital room. She pressed her cheek into the pillow, wiping the lone tear from her eye. On the other side of the curtain, Twilight started to cry. Her bitter sobs tainted the room, but that wasn’t what pained Chrysalis. She could see the scene playing out just beyond her sight: A foal’s instinct, pressed tightly to their mother in some desperate attempt to escape their pain. Perhaps she should’ve taken Luna’s offer. A cruel voice in her subconscious told her it would’ve been less painful.
Chrysalis never needed to express her sorrow or her pain. The hive had once known her feelings as well as they’d known their own. In fact, the two were often aligned. Outward shows of emotion could cripple a negotiation, ruin a stealthy operation. There would never be any reason to expose a weakness to a potential enemy. Instead, she waited for the night, when Twilight’s sleeping form had to be carried away by her guards.
There, alone in her room and even more alone in her head, Chrysalis would finally learn how it felt to weep.