“Please knock me out,” Twilight begged.
“It’s not that bad,” Chrysalis tried.
A puff of feathers shot into the air as Twilight fell flat onto her bed, belly-first. The burning wounds across her flank were finally setting in, only compounding with the anguish in her head. As she welcomed the sweet embrace of death, she felt a strange comfort in having Chrysalis beside her.
“It feels worse than it looks,” Twilight moaned, a slowly expanding bloodstain on the sheets beneath her. She felt a pang of pity for the maid forced to clean up this mess.
“Is there anything I can do?” Chrysalis asked.
“Like I said, knock me out. Smack me right upside the head. I won’t even hold it against you.”
“I think that would just make your horn hurt worse.”
“Then what about that time you knocked me out and replaced me with a changeling. That didn’t hurt. Can’t you do that again?”
“If I had my horn, maybe.”
“Excuses.”
Chrysalis bit the inside of her lip to stifle a laugh, but she couldn’t hide the strange concoction of worry and amusement plastered across her visage. Twilight responded with an upset glare.
“Sorry,” Chrysalis snickered. “I just never thought I’d hear you ask me to attack you.”
Twilight sank into her pillow unamused.
“What ever happened to that doctor?”
As if on cue, Doctor Heart’s voice rang from outside. “Hello?”
“Come on in, Doctor. She’s expecting you.” As Heart made his way inside, Chrysalis planted herself near the fireplace, hoping the embers would suddenly burst to life.
“Ah. Miss Chrysalis. I see you’ve shed my brace.”
“It was uncomfortable.” Chrysalis shrugged. “Besides, I’m not your patient today, Doctor.”
“I heard.” He turned to the guard currently advancing toward the oblivious changeling, the same one who left her with his partner up in the study. “Would you be so kind as to fetch me a seat, Sir?”
The gold-clad stallion tore himself from scrutinizing Chrysalis long enough to register the doctor’s request. He returned a few moments later carrying a chair in his teeth.
“Thank you.” Doctor Heart dragged the wooden seat to the edge of his patient’s bed before settling in and relinquishing his tools onto the nightstand. “That will be all.”
“Doctor, what about her?” The soldier aimed his weapon toward Chrysalis.
“Yes, you may be right. That wounded creature barely capable of standing on her own four legs is quite the threat. At this rate, she might bleed on me, and then what would I do? It’d be such a mess.” He searched vigorously for a pair of forceps.
“Very well, Sir.” The jangling of armor signaled his departure.
Chrysalis examined her body. She hadn’t noticed the wound open on her leg.
“Now, Twilight, would you care to explain yourself?”
“She needs flying lessons, apparently.” Chrysalis’ wings whined.
“I flew through a bunch of glass and hit my horn.” Twilight turned her head to give her examiner a better view of her injuries.
“The wounds on your back are a simple fix. You may need stitches in a few of them. The horn is a more serious matter, though I imagine as a one-time unicorn yourself, you don’t need to be told that.”
“Maybe we’ll match,” Chrysalis said.
“With that said,” Doctor Heart continued, ignoring the sly comment, “it doesn’t look too bad. A small fracture. If you can manage not to hit it again, I’d say there shouldn’t be any permanent damage. I’d also avoid casting any higher power spells if I were you. Miss Chrysalis, would you mind lending me a hoof.” He sprinkled a pinch of dust over the princess.
Chrysalis took her place opposite the medical pony. “Tell me what to do.”
“I need you to hold her wing in place. Twilight, I’ve applied a local anesthetic, but it doesn’t have the best track record on alicorn biology. This might sting a bit, but I need you to try not to move too much. Alright?”
“Alright.”
“Good. Chrysalis?”
The changeling queen climbed halfway onto the bed, using her forelegs to pin Twilight’s feathers down.
“That feel okay?” She asked Twilight.
“It’s fine,” Twilight braced herself.
“Here we go.” Doctor Heart closed the forceps around one of the smaller shards. A gentle tug made Twilight’s skin crawl. Her short time spent as a princess had yet to bless her with an alicorn’s legendary tolerance, so the numbness kept her from feeling any intense pain. It didn’t make the sensation any less strange.
Heart levitated a small metal tray over his shoulder. The shard clattered against the bottom with a hollow sound. He repeated the process for three other similar wounds. Twilight’s wing struggled against its restraint, but Chrysalis kept her grip firm.
“You’re doing well, Twilight. Only one more to go.”
The largest of the cuts brought little more challenge than the others. With the last piece withdrawn, the doctor exchanged his tools for bandages. Generous portions of the cotton strips were applied over the purple fur, leaving only the largest laceration exposed. Twilight watched the doctor nervously as he retrieved a needle and spool of thread.
“You may not wish to watch this,” he recommended.
Twilight maneuvered herself toward Chrysalis, who offered a sympathetic smile. The pony gasped as the doctor started his work.
“Does it hurt?” Chrysalis asked.
“No. It’s cold,” Twilight replied with a shiver.
Chrysalis took Twilight’s hoof in her own, resting her head at the edge of the mattress.
“Done,” Doctor Heart announced. He sliced the thread with a pair of scissors before returning his tools back to their proper places. A second set of bandages were set in place.
“How’s that feel?”
“Better?” Twilight wondered aloud.
“What about her horn?” Chrysalis studied the damaged protrusion.
“That one depends on the princess.” Doctor Heart motioned toward Twilight. “I can try a cast that’ll hold it in place, but it’ll interfere with her magic.”
“Not an option. I need my magic.”
“Otherwise, she’ll just need to avoid exacerbating the crack.”
“That’ll be fine, Doctor. This isn’t the first time I’ve nearly broken my horn.”
“As you say, Princess.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Chrysalis released Twilight.
“You know, it’s nice to see you two are getting along. I must say, I found myself a little worried when you removed Chrysalis from my care. It seems my worries were ill-founded.”
“You and me, both.” Chrysalis returned to her invisible fire.
“Is there anything else either of you need?” He kicked the chair into the corner of the room and rested his medical kit on his back. “I can get you a new brace if you think you need it.”
“Truthfully, I think it started doing more harm than good. If I put it back on, my new chitin plates might grow back misshapen,” Chrysalis explained.
“You know more about changelings than I do, Miss.”
“You can call me Chrysalis. It might sound strange to you, I know, but it is my name.”
“I’ll consider it, Miss. If you change your mind, or if Princess Twilight needs further attention, you both know where to find me. Or at least your guards do.” With that, the doctor returned home for the day.
“How are you feeling?” Chrysalis asked once they were alone.
“I’d kill for a cup of tea right now,” Twilight admitted.
Chrysalis tapped the closed door.
“Princess?” A stallion’s voice.
“The Princess requests tea be brought up to her room.” Chrysalis waited a moment, listening intently. “I don’t hear you going to get it. Are you going to make me ask again?” She wore her most indignant tone.
“I’ll return shortly with the Princess’ request.” Now she heard the steps receding.
“Your drink will be here shortly.” Chrysalis looked far too proud of herself.
“Is that how you talked to your changelings?” Twilight had settled beneath her sheets, careful to avoid pressure on her horn or stitches.
Chrysalis found a comfortable spot on the rug to lay. “Sometimes. When I was impatient enough.”
“I can’t imagine they took kindly to that.”
“Why wouldn’t they? My changelings aren’t like your ponies. Do you know why we lie so well?” She waited for an answer, but Twilight simply shook her head.
“Because words mean nothing to us.”
“I don’t get your meaning.”
Chrysalis reconsidered her words. “Changelings don’t need to talk. We have an inherent understanding of each other. No matter what tone I use with them, they know the truth of my feelings. Like reading each other’s minds. In a similar vein, they never called me their queen.”
“I heard Thorax call you that the other day.”
“He didn’t back in our hive. They didn’t need to call me by such petty titles. They knew I was their queen, and I knew that they knew. We had no need for words.”
“But things changed?”
Chrysalis shifted uncomfortably. “We can’t hear one another anymore. I’m not part of their hive, so I’m not part of the hivemind.”
“I can’t imagine what that’s like.”
“It’s lonely, Twilight. I know they’re all still alive and well, but it’s like they’re lost to me, still.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have anything to be sorry about.”
“I helped dethrone you.” For the first time, Twilight felt bad about defeating a villain.
“I gave you a pretty good reason to dethrone me. And either way, my changelings chose their own path. If that doesn’t involve me, then I won’t stand in their way.”
“Do you miss them?”
“More than you’d ever know.”
“I used to be pretty lonely when I was younger, too.”
“With friends like yours, I find that difficult to believe.” Twilight thought she heard envy in Chrysalis’ voice.
“It’s true. I didn’t meet the girls until I moved to Ponyville only a few years ago. Princess Celestia sent me there to learn about friendship. That was back when Nightmare Moon returned. We defeated her and rescued Luna.” In her head, the memories of her friends’ first meeting played on loop.
“It must be nice to have friends like that.”
“If Princess Celestia hadn’t helped me, I doubt I would ever have met them. And now you’ve got a princess helping you out, too.”
“I suppose. She sounds like quite the pony.”
“I thought she sounded like an idiot?”
“She can be both. Regardless, I want to save her, Twilight.”
“I believe you.”
A rapping at the door interrupted their conversation. Twilight found a great deal of trouble trying to sit up, let alone rise from her bed. She allowed Chrysalis to answer in her place.
“Tea is served.” A young, sky-blue earth pony waited eagerly outside. A tray on her head balanced a fragile-looking teapot and two equally fragile engraved teacups.
Pulling the portal open, Chrysalis allowed the mare inside.
She deposited her burden on a table set up in the center of the room.
“Is there anything else you need, Princess?”
“No. Thank you, Mist.”
With a polite curtsy, the pony vanished just as quickly as she appeared. Chrysalis plucked the handle of the teapot between her hooves. Though unnerved by the easily-broken dish cradled in her hooves, she successfully poured two doses of the brilliant bitter brew.
“Here.” She set the cup and its accompanying saucer on Twilight’s bedside table.
“Would you like some? There’s plenty,” Twilight offered. “You can drink, can’t you?”
Chrysalis responded by filling her own glass and taking a light sip. Pulling herself to a seated position, Twilight gathered the glassware.
“Come to think of it,” She started, “I really don’t know that much about changelings.”
“There’s a very good chance that’s intentional.”
“Well, if we’re going to be . . . friends, then I want to know more about you.”
“Telling you about myself violates every espionage instinct I’ve got.” She sighed. “What do you want to know?”
Twilight weighed her options. “Tell me about your kind. Just in general.”
“Picked a fun topic to start. Let’s see.” Chrysalis pressed a hoof to her chin. “I guess the best place to start would be how we survive.”
“Sounds like as good a place to start as any.” Twilight took another drink.
“Changelings are magical creatures. While you ponies can tap into the magic of the world, we changelings need it to survive. To cut off our supply of magic would kill us.”
Twilight thought of the brew sitting on the table in her study. “What do you mean by cutting off the supply?”
“Unicorns have their spells, pegasi channel their magic through their wings to fly and control weather, and earth ponies have their . . . earth . . . magic. For changelings, though, our magic is an inherent part of us. Cut off a pegasus’ wings or break a unicorn’s horn,” she gestured to Twilight, “and you’ll live. Changelings wouldn’t.”
“You don’t have a horn.”
“I meant it figuratively. Our horn is not quite as necessary as it would be for a unicorn. While yes, missing my horn means I can’t channel my magic as well, that doesn’t mean I’m completely without it. Remember how I healed my wings?”
“I think that makes sense.”
“Part of that magic is how we sense emotion. In my current state, it’s like losing an eye. You can still see, but it’s much harder. I can still taste the emotion in the air, but it's muted.”
“You can still feed, though?”
“I can. A changeling doesn’t even need to think to feed off latent emotion in the air. Just standing near two ponies in love can provide us with the energy we need to live, barely. We can also forcibly drain the energy, which is more effective, but can emotionally stunt the victim.”
Twilight flinched at the word “victim”.
“But we can also be given emotion freely. Like Thorax does to feed me. This is the most fulfilling method of feeding.”
“That’s how Thorax’s changelings feed each other, don’t they?”
“Love doesn’t work for us the same way it does for you. To changelings, their magic is their emotion. It’s why we must keep our emotions in check. Show too much emotion, you’re releasing too much energy. So, while the new changelings feed one another their love, it really doesn’t mean much. Eventually, there won’t be enough emotion for them to all feed off. Of course, they visit ponies enough that they’ll likely never realize it.”
“That’s horrible.” Twilight finished her tea. Chrysalis dragged herself over to refill it.
“It’s how changelings are.”
“So, you need to feed on emotion to survive, but you can eat and drink normally?” Twilight wished she had a quill and inkpot to keep notes.
“We can, but it doesn’t do anything for us. We don’t have to eat or drink like ponies do. We’re sustained purely through magical energy. We don’t need to breathe, either.”
“What about sleeping?”
“It helps conserve energy. We’ll still get drowsy if we don’t sleep, but we’ll never pass out or die from it. That disconnect from our physical form is why we’re able to shapeshift so easily. Do you want me to write this down for you? It will make the book I know you’re thinking of writing much simpler.”
“I wasn’t thinking that,” Twilight lied. She decided it would be best to switch the subject. “It’s amazing just how different our species are.”
Her mind churned out questions faster than Chrysalis could answer them, and she spent over an hour quizzing her guest. For her part, the changeling royal didn’t seem to mind. The questioning continued until the sun finally sank.
“How’re you holding up? Still hurt?”
“No, I’m doing better. Mostly just tired.” Twilight interrupted herself with a yawn. “Would you mind getting the lights?”
“I’ll have your guard escort me back to my quarters,” Chrysalis said, darkening the room with the click of a light switch.
“You don’t have to go. You can stay here for tonight.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to keep you up.”
“I’m sure.” Twilight gripped her covers with her magic, pulling the sheet up high enough to ward off the coolness of the night.
“As you say, Princess.”