“Rise and shine,” Twilight sang, cracking Chrysalis’ door open just enough to slip inside. Her steps echoed through the silent bedroom. The sound instilled a profound sense of solitude in the pony, despite the knowledge she couldn’t possibly be alone. The spell continued, pulling open the curtains, spilling dull blue daylight into the dark. A thin layer of frosty dew smudged the view of the gardens outside.
“Come on, Chrysalis. I have plans for us today,” Twilight continued. Chrysalis groaned, constricting her body tighter to hide from the morning. She was currently curled up, hanging from the ceiling where it met the wall and fireplace like a locust. An angry, overgrown locust.
“I think I tried to kill the wrong princess.” Chrysalis shook a hoof angrily.
Unimpressed, Twilight stepped out for a moment, requisitioning a spear from one of the ponies outside. Holding it tight in her purple glow, she raised the blunt end into the air, jabbing it into Chrysalis’ back. A surprised yelp sent the changeling crashing down like a sack of bricks.
“Ow.” Chrysalis’ childish whine and distinctly nonroyal landing almost made the vicious changeling adorable.
“I told you to hurry up,” Twilight hid a chuckle behind her hoof, “but you didn’t have to take the express way down.”
Chrysalis rose slowly to her feet, shaking her senses awake. “Give me that spear and we’ll call it even,” she threatened.
Twilight couldn’t take her seriously with her mossy mane sticking every which way.
“Not on your life. Hurry up and get ready, we’re going out today.” Twilight started for the door, twirling the weapon alongside her. Chrysalis ran a hoof through her mane, pulling a few knots loose and settling it into place before following. She stepped out into the hall in time to see Twilight return her borrowed tool to a concerned stallion.
“So, what stupid thing do you have planned for us today?” Chrysalis asked, trying her best to form a mental map of the route she’d been dragged through. Two hallways, a downward flight of stairs and a few dozen confused double-takes from passing ponies later, Twilight led Chrysalis out into the royal court. Unless the changeling had been unusually lax in her mental mapping, she felt confident that Twilight wasn’t leading her to the study.
“You’ll see,” Twilight said, her voice bordering on song.
“Where’s Fluttershy?” Chrysalis glanced around as if worried the pegasus would swoop down at the mention of her name.
“She’s off having breakfast with Luna. We’ll meet up later.”
“So, she’s too scared to be in a room with me,” Chrysalis corrected. The lunar and solar thrones shimmered under the skylight. The princesses must have looked quite impressive to their subjects from atop their seats of power. She wondered how she and Twilight would look in their place. The thought amused her.
“She’s not scared of you.” Twilight considered her statement. “She’s not that scared of you. Probably. Either way, that’s not why she’s not with us.”
The stained-glass windows looked far more vibrant this time through. Chrysalis didn’t shrink away, studying each one in detail. Watching Twilight and her friend’s adventures over the years had, at first, annoyed Chrysalis. Now, she only felt foreign, an outsider watching heroes in a fairytale. Even though she stood only a few feet away, Twilight felt more like a storybook hero than a real pony.
“Keep up,” Twilight insisted. A few guards watched the two from a distance, their uniforms marking them as a lower rank. They’d been informed of their newest guest, but that didn’t make the sight of her less terrifying. Whenever Chrysalis locked eyes with one, they couldn’t help but turn away. She’d have been proud of that a few days ago.
“You’re killing me, Twilight,” Chrysalis moaned. Unfortunately, as it turned out, her leg brace had been waterproof. She’d been hoping to have it taken off to replace it. With the new plates growing in, the straps had grown tighter. Even a single moment of freedom would have been divine.
“How much longer are you supposed to wear that?” Twilight asked, slowing to Chrysalis’ pace.
“I have no idea. Doctor Heart didn’t tell me. I’m not even sure he knows.”
“He probably knows. He’s only studied medicine for a decent chunk of his life,” Twilight mused. The two made their way through the massive double doors that led out into the castle courtyard.
“Which part of that involves changeling anatomy?” Chrysalis huffed. The stiff morning breeze carried a hint of winter’s frost. From over the courtyard walls, she could hear daily life. Ponies called out to one another, exchanging daily pleasantries. Outside the golden gates, carriages clacked against the cobblestone streets. She could taste the scent of freshly baked goods in the air, suddenly awash in regret of every missed dessert.
“Here. We’re going this way.” Twilight motioned to the high arch at the edge of the courtyard. The Royal Gardens. Any pony worth their salt knew of the Canterlot Royal Gardens, which meant the changelings did too. The gardens were open to all: students visiting on field trips, tourists on vacation, local ponies who just wanted a peaceful day in nature. Today, though, the gardens were empty. Even the gardeners made sure to keep out of sight.
Twilight stepped aside, allowing Chrysalis to take the first step into the floral wonderland. Tall hedges formed in the inner walls of the gardens, white flowers poking through the greenery in uneven patches. The high stone walls were hidden from view beneath a sheet of tangled ivy. The main path wound for miles around the sides and back of the castle, flanked on each side by a stretch of blossoms painted every color Chrysalis had a name for and more.
“So, how is it?” Twilight asked, pulling Chrysalis from her technicolor fantasies.
“How is what?” Each blooming patch offered a different flavor of floral glory.
“The Canterlot Royal Gardens,” Twilight explained, hooves reaching out to the world around them. Chrysalis imagined a young unicorn foal, barely taller than the flowers around her, wearing the same carefree smile her adult self offered now.
“I think I might be allergic,” Chrysalis laughed, wiping an unrealized tear from the corner of her eye.
“Seriously?” A sudden concern seized Twilight’s voice.
“No, not seriously.” Her head tilted back, drinking in the warm sunlight flickering across her carapace. Chrysalis never saw the joy in Twilight’s eyes as she watched the changeling bask in her moment of freedom.
Their journey took the two of them along the full length of the gardens. Constant stops to admire the scenic displays only delayed Twilight’s study session further, but she couldn’t bring herself to worry about her books. They’d still be waiting for her after they finished up here.
“When I was studying here under Celestia, I tried to catalogue all the different species of flowers that grew here,” Twilight said, sketching a mental picture of the radial symmetry in play with the shimmering sea of foam-colored flowers before her.
“How’d that go?” Chrysalis asked.
“I made it about halfway before I lost the list.” Twilight chuckled. “Spike wasn’t all that great at organizing back then.”
“Which one is Spike?”
“My dragon.” The words were slow. “Purple and green. Still pretty small. Ringing any bells?” He would probably still be sleeping back in Ponyville. If Twilight didn’t wake him in the mornings, he could sleep well past noon. Assuming he did sleep, that is.
Chrysalis hadn’t noticed Twilight falling behind. At the garden’s halfway point, the tall hedges opened, revealing a circular green pasture reminiscent of a park. Flowers still lined the edges of the field, broken only where benches had been bolted down.
A fountain stood perfectly center, tall spouts of water spraying high into the sky before falling into a stone basin large enough for a dragon to bathe in. Coins sparkled across the bottom, glittering like jewels beneath the rippling surface. Though the fountain in the main courtyard bared the visage of the sisters, this one held only an empty stone plinth.
“Spike’s the only dragon around here. Well, he was when you were here.” Twilight called. The lack of a response finally wrested her focus from Spike. Chrysalis wasn’t nearby. Figuring she continued, Twilight hurried after her.
She guessed correctly. The Royal Garden Park had been a relatively recent renovation. Celestia had suggested that since Discord’s release, the gardens had no permanent residents, making it the perfect time to make a change to the ancient place. A “rebranding” she’d called it.
While the winding trail made for a pleasant stroll, the foals preferred to run free in the grass field set aside for them. In a place where kites flew a little higher, balls rolled a little farther, and ponies’ laughter never seemed to fade, the image of the former changeling queen, knelt in the grass should’ve been horrifying.
Something wasn’t right with Chrysalis, and Twilight noticed instantly. “Is it your leg? I can have a few ponies carry you back to your room if—”
“Gravestones should have names, Twilight. Don’t you think?”
Twilight took a cautious first step onto the field. She found her gaze drawn to the fountain. Specifically, to the stone altar above it. It had been built to hold a statue the size and shape of a draconequus. A changeling queen would look just as nice.
“I suppose gravestone might be a little harsh. I guess I wouldn’t actually be dead.” She didn’t sound reassured. “No. I’d be a trophy, to be admired whenever you felt bored or nostalgic. What a bright future.”
“I wouldn’t admire it.” Twilight made herself smaller.
“You will,” Chrysalis said, a new confidence in her voice.
Twilight took another step closer. She felt a desire to curl up beside Chrysalis, whispering in her ear that everything would be okay, just as Celestia had done in her student’s youth.
“I swear to you that I won’t. Chrysalis, I think I was wrong about you—"
“I’ve been lying to you Twilight,” Chrysalis blurted. She kept her back to Twilight, unable to bear the weight of the princess’ interrupted confession.
The chirping birds and babbling fountain fell silent.
“About what?” Twilight asked. She stopped halfway between Chrysalis and the garden trail.
“About Celestia.”
Silence. The loudest silence she’d ever heard.
“I know what I did to her. I know how to stop it.”
“And when did you intend on telling me this?” Twilight’s voice shifted in line with the swirl of emotion building in her chest.
“I . . . I wasn’t,” Chrysalis admitted. “I wasn’t going to tell you. I’m sorry.”
Twilight wanted to feel used. To let her anger fester until it released in a long string of language as colorful as her journey here. She wanted to drown in her own tears. Regardless of her desires, she didn’t feel anything.
“Why?” Twilight’s throat felt as numb as the rest of her.
Chrysalis didn’t answer. Chrysalis couldn’t answer.
“Why?” Twilight stepped a little closer this time.
“I . . .”
“I thought you’d changed.”
Chrysalis held her breath. Or maybe she’d simply forgotten how to breathe.
“But I guess that’s just what you wanted me to think, isn’t it? Even after all of this, it’s still just a game to you, isn’t it? And here I am, all too happy to be a pawn. That’s all I am to you. That’s all I’ll ever be to you.”
“No, let me explain.”
“I don’t want to hear your excuses,” Twilight spat in a fruitless effort to clear the rotten taste from her tongue. “Tell me how to save Celestia.”
“You can’t, Twilight.”
“You can tell me, or you can tell Luna. She won’t ask as nicely.” Twilight’s wings dipped, hooves shook, breathing turned erratic.
Chrysalis sighed. “A life for a life.” She watched her own reflection in the waves. The blurred creature staring back sickened her.
“Quit talking in riddles. Tell me how to save my princess.”
“Changelings are powerful creatures, Twilight. Thorax thought he’d stumbled onto something new. The ability to share love instead of taking it.”
“What does that have to do with—”
Chrysalis squeezed her eyes shut. “It works for other emotions too. Love. Anger. Fear. Hatred.”
“You poisoned her . . . “
“With hatred. Complete and utter hatred. The desire to end her life in horrible agony.”
“How do I fix it.”
Chrysalis’ words sank in her chest like stones, requiring her to force them out with any strength she could muster. “A changeling’s love. All of it.”
The finality in the creature’s voice told Twilight everything she needed to know. A sickening thought brewed in the alicorn, formed from rage boiling in her stomach. “Luna needs to know this.” Twilight turned to leave.
“No!” Chrysalis screamed. She spun to face Twilight, her knee twisting at an odd angle. Dark lines streaked down her blackened muzzle. “You can’t.”
“Give me one good reason.”
“She’ll hurt them, Twilight.” The queen threw herself down into the dirt. Blades of grass pricked against her face as she lay there, quivering.
“No. Your changelings won’t suffer for your sins.”
Chrysalis’ breath hitched. The words weighed heavy on Twilight, more than any saddlebag could ever hope to challenge. She retraced her steps back to the garden path, leaving the sobbing beast to her fate within the confines of the park.
The second half of the gardens had withered in the time since Twilight had arrived. The flowers had already begun to wilt, their hues bleeding into a mass of pale gray and brown. The birds’ song sounded off-key. The morning wind felt unbearably cold. Finally, Twilight arrived at the beginning of the path, where the sisters kept watch over the front gates with their petrified figures.
“You two.” Twilight stopped at the threshold of palace doors.
The two guards keeping watch snapped to attention.
“Chrysalis is in the park out back. Take a few others with you and have her taken to her room. If she resists, you don’t have to be gentle.”
She didn’t wait for a response, and the armored ponies didn’t offer one. Instead, they watched the princess leave, leading a defiant war path into the castle. When she finally stepped out of sight, the guards realized they had been holding their breath.
“How was your day out, Twilight?” Luna asked.
She and Fluttershy were already seated at the dining table. Their mostly polished dishes had been pushed aside, waiting for a servant to see to it.
A faint purple aura enveloped the door, jerking it closed. Twilight refused to lock eyes with either of them, instead silently claiming her seat and resting her head against the placemat.
“I take it Chrysalis didn’t take your ‘vacation’ as well as you’d hoped.”
Luna tried to sound sympathetic, but her soft tone only added fuel to Twilight’s fury. Her only rebuttal toward the princess was a deadly glare. Fluttershy stayed quiet, terrified of sparking the powder keg building in the purple pony. Luna didn’t blame her. For the innumerable time, she wished Celestia were here. She always knew what to do in situations like this.
“Fluttershy?” Luna turned carefully from the younger princess, smiling at her guest instead.
“Y- yes, Princess?”
Luna polished her best Celestia impression with a deep breath. “Would you mind bringing a message to kitchen staff? I want them to prepare you your choice of dessert, to celebrate the last night of your visit here. Tell them you have all the authority of the royal princess.” Luna winked.
“Right.” Fluttershy tapped her hoof against the floor gently, as if it might fall away if she applied to much pressure. “I’ll get right on that . . . Princess.” She broke for the kitchen in a full sprint. With her out of the way, Luna returned her efforts toward Twilight.
“Tell me what happened.”
Twilight slammed her forelegs into the table. Luna lurched upward, startled by the sudden violence. A bodiless dark claw plucked her wineglass from the table before it could spill a drop of the vintage. A fork rattled onto the stone somewhere below.
“She lied,” Twilight roared.
Luna frowned beneath her figurative mask. She tried her best to sound professional, but couldn’t keep worry from bleeding into her words. “Deceit is a changeling’s bread and butter, Twilight. You can’t blame yourself for that.”
“I thought she’d changed.” Twilight deflated, throwing herself down into her chair, pressing a hoof to her forehead. The wood groaned under the force. “I was starting to think she liked me, that we could’ve been . . .”
“Friends?” Luna asked.
Twilight knew that answer should have been right, but she couldn’t bring herself to admit it.
“What did she say?” Luna prodded, sipping from her glass.
“She knows what’s wrong with Celestia. She knows how to fix it, too.” A sliver of doubt stuck in Twilight’s mind. Her flailing emotions wanted to allow Chrysalis the benefit of the doubt, but the few remaining shreds of logical thought screamed that it would be a mistake.
“She does?” Hope welled in Luna’s core. Even as sleep-deprived as she was, the thought of her sister back at her side opened a spring of energy she didn’t know she had. For Twilight’s sake, though, she kept her face stone solid.
“And she knew it the whole time. I can’t believe she lied to us like that. I guess that makes me Equestria’s biggest fool. I can’t believe I fell for a changeling.”
A changeling’s tricks, Luna corrected mentally. She could forgive a few grammatical errors given the stressful situation. “Twilight, you can’t blame yourself for this. Chrysalis has had a longer life than any other changeling. She knows she can use your good nature against you.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Twilight bemoaned. She leaned back in her chair. Luna could almost see the steam venting from the alicorn. “I just hoped she could be different.”
“Some people don’t change.” Luna stood and wrapped her hooves around Twilight. “You did your best. No one else would’ve given Chrysalis another chance.” She squeezed the little pony. “She didn’t deserve it.”
“That’s not all that’s bothering me,” Twilight said when Luna finally released her.
“Then tell me about that, too.”
“The method we have to use to heal Celestia.” Twilight had been searching desperately for her answers. Now that she had them, she wanted her ignorance back.
“Yes. Tell me. I’ll have the guards gather what we need before dawn,” Luna exclaimed, shifting back and forth quickly as if trying to dance in place.
“We need a changeling.”
“A changeling. Well, I suppose we have plenty of those. Is there some sort of ritual to be performed with it?” This all felt too simple.
“Sort of. Celestia’s been poisoned by changeling magic powered by hatred.”
“Hatred?” Luna scoffed. “Chrysalis’ handiwork, right? Even after Celestia tried to save her, she hated her. She’s truly a hopeless creature.”
“If a changeling can channel enough love to power their magic, they can heal the poison.”
“Love, specifically?” Luna tapped her chin. “I suppose it is the most powerful of their emotions. This spell must require a great deal of energy.”
“All of it. There’s a high chance they won’t survive.” Twilight hung her head.
“A steep price.” Luna turned solemn.
“One we can’t ask a changeling to make.”
“What about Chrysalis herself?”
A rumble of thunder tore through Twilight’s head, yet another symptom of the storm within. She massaged around the base of her horn to quell the turbulence. “I don’t know,” she whispered.
“What’s wrong with that, shouldn’t a changeling queen be powerful enough?” Luna seemed so clinical. Twilight felt her fur bristle
“How can you say that so calmly?” Twilight burst, half crying, half yelling. She studied a strange design on the door in the opposite direction of Luna. “How can you kill her so easily?”
“She’s made her choices, Twilight. If a changeling’s life must be taken, shouldn’t it be the one responsible for it? Or would you have me choose another to bear her weight?” Luna’s comment briefly registered as a threat, but Twilight wiped that notion away.
“What if there’s another way?” Twilight begged.
“I’m not saying we shouldn’t try to find another way.” Luna’s mask cracked. “But if we run out of options, we won’t have a choice. Don’t you want to protect Equestria? Don’t you want to protect Celestia?”
Twilight’s anger resurfaced. She slammed a hoof down on the table, rattling the fall decorations that’d been scattered across it.
Luna waited for the noise to settle. “Why are you so opposed to this, Twilight?”
“I don’t want her to die,” Twilight screamed, burying her head into her chest. “I care about her, Luna.”
“Even after everything she did to you?”
“I know she lied, I know she hurt Celestia, and I know I should hate her for it, but no matter how hard I try, I just can’t do it. I can’t hate her. Not anymore.”
“It’s not just about her lying, Twilight. How many ponies do you think the changelings hurt at her command? These are your subjects now, Twilight. They look up to you and count on you. And that’s not even mentioning everything she did to your family, or what she did to you. Or have you forgotten?” Luna had reached the end of her rope and plunged even further. Her royal mask had all but shattered.
“I haven’t.” Twilight reeled herself in. Her cheeks burned under Luna’s disapproving gaze. “I’m sorry, Luna.”
“For what?” Luna’s tone conjured memories of Twilight’s mother. Only three ponies in Equestria could pull off a guilt-trip like that. She wasn’t in the mood for this.
“For everything.” Twilight left her seat, left Luna’s disappointment, left a piece of herself. “Tell Fluttershy I’ll be waiting by the front gate for her. I’ll walk her back to the station tonight.”
“Very well,” Luna said, reforming the shattered pieces of her self-control. Twilight didn’t look back.
Once she was sure Twilight wouldn’t return, Luna cleared her throat. “Raven, I have need of you.”
A thestral appeared from the darkness, dressed head to hoof in black armor. Obsidian fur lined his wings and protruded from gaps in his armor. He bowed his head to the floor. Luna hadn’t heard him approach, but she knew better than to rely on her senses where her elites were concerned.
“I need you to deliver a message for me. Take my chariot.”
Thorax smiled at the older guard, wary of the cautious gleam in his eye. “I was told I was expected.” He laughed nervously, trying his best to ignore the second soldier’s searching eye.
“He’s clean,” the second one said. “Go ahead.” He nodded toward the door.
“Thank you.” Thorax bowed. The stallion blocking his path moved aside, never breaking visual contact. The wooden door shook with a short series of sharp knocks.
No answer. Thorax watched his companion from the side of his eyes. “She is in there, right?”
The stallion flared his nostrils. He pushed past the king, drawing a key from a pouch on his golden armor. With a click, the door fell open.
“Thank you, again.” Thorax smiled at the two. They didn’t return it. He slipped inside, eager to forget the encounter. Even during the day, Chrysalis’ room stayed dark. Extra bed sheets had been draped over the windows to block out whatever the real curtains couldn’t catch. He missed the old green glow of his childhood hives. The only source of light came from the bathroom, where a lone bulb battled valiantly against the encroaching shadows.
“Chrysalis?” Thorax asked, poking his head into the bathroom. The object of his search stood at the sink, hooves tense against the marble rim. Deeper into the room, steam rose from a filled bathtub. The mirror above the sink had been shattered, revealing a wooden wall.
“Thorax?” Chrysalis tensed, but her body stayed rooted in place. With the mirror gone, he couldn’t see her face. Thorax stepped past her, settling comfortably leaning against the back wall.
“Help me take this thing off, would you?” She lifted her leg, turning so the buckles faced outward.
“Are you supposed to take it off?” he folded his arms.
“Probably not. I’m beginning to think it might be a strange torture device. Please?”
A silence settled between them.
With a sigh, Thorax dragged himself back onto his hooves and reached for his mother’s leg. She shifted her weight onto her good leg, leaving her other free to lift less than an inch off the ground. He pressed lightly on either side, keeping the extremity steady as he ignited the pale green horn between his antlers.
His magic, in the form of green fire, threaded the first leather belt back through the buckle. Chrysalis groaned in relief as the pressure finally released. The second and third buckles didn’t take any longer than the first. With the device removed, Thorax set it aside. Her leg had recovered steadily. The glassy plates hadn’t grown enough to darken, leaving the leg a fleshy pink. At this state, any decent force would crack her shell.
“Thank you,” Chrysalis said. She couldn’t catch her breath.
When he straightened up, Thorax could see the interior of the sink. Innumerable shards of glass had piled over the drain. Just as many different versions of the changeling queen watched Chrysalis, each one with a mask crueler than the last.
“Do you need help getting in?” Thorax asked.
“No, I can handle that part.” Chrysalis released the sink. One by one, she let her limbs press into the tile. Her first three brought no issue. She sucked a breath through her teeth as the fourth finally received its weight. Thorax stepped away, leaning back against the door.
“It looks better.”
“I’m sure it does.” Chrysalis sounded exhausted.
Thorax watched her ease into the water, sliding down until her body reached both ends of the basin. Watching the stress melt away from her face made him smile, though he endeavored not to let her notice.
“Are you here about what happened in the Gardens, today?” Chrysalis let her eyelids fall, leaning her head back against a neatly folded towel.
“Twilight told me.”
“She does like to talk.”
“Why did you lie to her?” Thorax’s bluntness couldn’t punch through the blissful serenity consuming her. The rest of the room blinked away, leaving only the two of them, floating in an endless void.
“Why did you lie to me?” His thoughts grew hazy. He could feel the heat against her skin, the weightlessness of her body in the water.
“What would you have done if I’d told you?” Thorax’s anxiety washed over hers.
“Probably tell Twilight.”
“I should have told her you didn’t know. I can only imagine what she put you through.”
“She wasn’t thrilled.”
“I didn’t want you doing anything stupid. I know how much you love to.”
The two of them shared a synchronized chuckle.
“I’ve matured a great deal since then.” Thorax feigned insult.
“I’m still your elder. Several lifetimes of experience trump whatever you’ve got.” She smiled. “Did you hear anything from Luna?”
“She keeps her guard up around me. She is better at hiding her emotions than you are. Most of the time, at least. I was pretty confident Celestia trusted me. I even convinced her to bring you home. I genuinely don’t know with Luna, though.”
“Of course, that was your handiwork. You never cease to make things hard on me, do you?”
“I like to make your life interesting.”
“She probably hates me. I wouldn’t blame her.”
Thorax didn’t have an answer. As the crowned Princess of Friendship, it would take a serious mean streak to break Twilight’s confidence. Unfortunately, a serious mean streak described Chrysalis perfectly, especially for the ponies.
Years’ worth of dialogue had built in the distance between them. The questions haunting Thorax weighed on his tongue. Questions of her life, of where she’d been, of what had injured her, but he couldn’t find the resolve to break the sacred silence that had settled.
Not a single soul could predict what horrors awaited them past dawn’s horizon. Here, in Chrysalis’ company, they didn’t matter.
Tonight, neither changeling wore their crown.