//------------------------------// // 15: Testing . . . 1 . . . 2 . . . 3 // Story: Death of a Queen // by Arkane12 //------------------------------// “I can’t believe she did that.” Twilight paced back and forth down the center aisle of her study. She had been at this for nearly half an hour now. Chrysalis curled up in her old nest in the storage area, exhausted simply from watching the back-and-forth motion. A few moments were spent rearranging the boxes into a more comfortable position before settling in, breaking down what little barriers remained between the two sections of the room. “Which part are we upset about?” Chrysalis asked. “The way she threatened you like that. She called you a prisoner.” “I am a prisoner, Twilight. Did you think those guards following us all day every day were there for show?” “That’s not what I mean. You offered to help of your own free will. She should remember that. Maybe you did do some terrible things in your life, but you’re trying your best to make up for it now. After everything with Nightmare Moon, I thought Luna would be a little more sympathetic to your cause.” “Who are you trying to convince, you or me?” “I have no idea. I’m not trying to convince anypony. I’m just . . . venting frustration,” Twilight’s wing jittered rapidly, threatening to open her old wounds. “Just sit down and take a deep breath before you hurt yourself.” Chrysalis’s voice evoked images of a babbling brook: gentle and soothing. Twilight acted on the advice, settling into one of the chairs. She leaned her forelegs on the table and dropped her head into her hooves, drawing in a long, slow breath. Releasing the air from her lungs, Twilight’s body visibly relaxed. A small bead of blood dripped down her fur. Chrysalis made her way to the shelves lining the wall, choosing the cleanest looking rag from the pile, inferred from the lack of dirt and its floral scent. Pinching the cloth between her teeth, she approached Twilight from behind, dabbing the red stain from her coat, and eliciting a yelp of pained surprise from the mare. “What are you doing?” Twilight craned her neck for a better view. “You’re bleeding.” The words were muffled through grit teeth. “Oh,” Twilight remained still, allowing the wound to be cleaned. When the blood dried, Chrysalis took a seat at Twilight’s side. She dropped the rag on the table, the red spots on it clashing violently with the pristine white fibers. “There. It’s stopped for now. Do you feel better?” “No,” Twilight groaned. “I thought you would be happier to see your brother and sister. Don’t you miss them?” “I do. I really do. But at the same time, I have no idea what they’ll think of you.” “Aww, you’re worried about little old me?” Chrysalis stuck her tongue out playfully. “Of course I’m worried about you.” Twilight appreciated her attempt to lighten the mood, but that hardly lessened the impact of reality. “I think you worry too much, Twilight.” Chrysalis leaned back, the chair groaning under her weight. The wooden frame had been designed to hold an adult pony, not a changeling queen. “I do tend to overreact. In any other situation, I would probably agree with you. Not this time, though. You do remember who my brother and sister-in-law are, right? Princess Cadence and Shining Armor.” “Yes, Twilight.” “They don’t like you, Chrysalis.” “I figured.” “I mean, like, full-on hatred. An unhealthy amount of hatred.” “I figured, Twilight.” “Oh. Sorry. I swear, I didn’t mean it like that,” Twilight panicked again. “I just meant—” “Deep breaths,” Chrysalis announced slowly. “Right.” Twilight complied. “Now. I know that Shining and Cadence are going to be tough to deal with. I know they’re not going to be happy to see me. I’m prepared for it, Twilight. I’ll deal with the consequences of my actions, whatever they might be.” Chrysalis felt far too calm for her current predicament. Hopefully, some of that unnatural stillness could help Twilight cope. “I just . . . I know it’ll be bad.” “You should have more faith in your loved ones.” “Yeah. Maybe you’re right.” Twilight rested her chin on the table. The changeling placed her hoof gently on the princess’ shoulder. Centuries of experience accrued during her long life held no answers for Chrysalis. She had never been in a bind like this. She meant what she said to Twilight, though. If she would have to suffer for the choices she made, she would do so with a smile on her face. “Either way, fussing over it does little to delay the inevitable,” Chrysalis observed. “I guess. Maybe it’ll help take our minds off it.” With the aid of her magic, Twilight lifted her experiments into the air, replacing them on the table hosting the two of them. She retrieved the bubble-gum pink flask from its ring. Even cold, it still fizzed slightly like an old soft drink. “This is a potion designed to counter changeling magic, correct?” Chrysalis clarified. “I wouldn’t call it a potion, exactly. More of a scientific solution—” “So, this is a potion designed to counter changeling magic, correct?” Chrysalis repeated. “Sure,” Twilight capitulated flatly. “Then what’s the plan for testing it?” “The best source of magic to test it on would be Celestia herself but proceeding directly to high level trials is more often than not a bad idea. Do you know of any other sources of changeling magic to try?” Her previous episode already forgotten, Twilight adopted her usual cheery demeanor she reserved for giving lectures. “I think I qualify,” Chrysalis answered proudly. “But you’re missing your horn.” “I don’t necessarily need it.” “Oh?” A curious glance from Twilight prompted her to elaborate. “We are like unicorns in that our horn is the best focus for our magic, but it isn’t the only method we have. In a pinch, we can focus the magic through our chitin instead.” She tapped at the armor on her neck to emphasize her point. “It’s nowhere near as powerful or simple to pull off, but I assure you it is possible.” “I had no idea.” Twilight said, adding the information to an ever-expanding list of changeling facts that formed the basis for her impending scientific report. “Show me.” “Stand back,” Chrysalis warned. With a flurry of spells, Twilight removed anything valuable from the zone, replacing it with an off-white crystal. Chrysalis spilled herself across the small intersection. Her plates clicked as energy wormed through her skin. The pulse echoed from her tail, from her hooves, from the base of her broken horn. Her face twisted in discomfort, gradually evolving into pain as the green luster of her magic coursed through her. A vortex of emerald gathered in the air near the gemstone. Twilight leaned forward, drinking in every detail of the show. At her command, a quill scratched observations on parchment. Static building in the air pricked her fur. Curiosity emerged victorious over self-preservation. A viridian glow blotted out the white tile of the floor and rustic wood of the bookshelves. In a flash, the spell erupted. A blast of power reverberated, rattling glass and metal instruments. Then silence. Chrysalis collapsed. Beads of sweat speckled her heaving form. “That’s amazing.” Twilight inspected the target crystal. In its place, at the center of a newly scorched ring, sat a plain purple teacup. The long-drawn scrape of a metal quill-point broke the silence as it traced an intricate sketch of the transformation. “Well someone’s easily impressed.” Chrysalis paused to breathe. “I’m sure you could do a spell like that in your sleep.” “Well, yeah.” The drawn handle of the cup arched too far outward. “But I need my horn for that. Are you alright?” “Just . . . need a moment. Go ahead and test out your solution.” Chrysalis sounded the world slowly, as if she had never used it before. “In a moment.” The teacup’s rim had a small crack in it. She added this detail to the image. “When I’m finished with this.” “It’s a teacup, Twilight.” Twilight believed her. Every sense told her the same thing. Her mind told her more. “Not just any teacup. It’s your teacup. It’s identical to the one you used last night. They’re even damaged at the same points. That’s . . . awesome.” “I’m detail-oriented,” Chrysalis moaned. “I think I might have overdone it a little.” She let her head rest on the cold tile. “I know. Just give me a second to finish this.” A vine-like engraving had been scratched into the glass. Perfectly. “You can rest while I work.” She refused to argue. She lacked the fortitude for it. Twilight had devolved, obsessing over every detail of the glass like a filly with a new toy. Meanwhile, Chrysalis let her heavy lids close, surrendering to the darkness. As the clock hanging on the wall ticked the seconds away, feeling crept back into her extremities. “How does it look?” Twilight forced the drawing into Chrysalis’ face. “Did I get it right?” The changeling studied the image for only a single tick. The crack was wrong. The ink curved, adding a small tail at the end as compared to its physical counterpart. She opted to ignore the small inconsistency, for the sake of Twilight’s enthusiasm. “Looks good. Can we get this underway? I think I’m going to pass out or be sick. Maybe both. Probably both.” Her tongue felt heavy and awkward. “Right.” Twilight nodded, suddenly switching gears back into a fervent focus. She gripped the solution in her magic, hovering it over to where they could both see it. A fresh leaf of parchment settled nearby, quill freshly inked and eager to write. “Here we go.” A single drop of the pink liquid drooled from the edge of the flask, pooling at the bottom of the teacup. Nothing happened. “Was it supposed to do something?” Chrysalis asked. A slight murmur in the back of her mind craved a freshly brewed spot of tea. “It was supposed to change back. Why didn’t it change back? It was a crystal before, right? Did I imagine that?” “It was indeed a crystal.” More nothing. “I don’t get it.” Twilight made a face at the experiment, trying to taunt it into working. “It should have worked. It did work. Earlier. With your horn. So, what happened?” A hint of panic crept into her words. “Does it just need time?” “I thought that—” A flash of red light sent both observers flailing backwards as the force of the magic blasted outward. Chrysalis pushed Twilight behind her, protecting her from any harm while simultaneously ensuring she stayed on the ground. Last thing she needed was more stitches. As quickly as it appeared, the red light faded. There, sitting amidst a second ring burned into the wood, a beige crystal levitated slightly in the air for a moment before dropping down and plopping onto its side. “It worked.” Twilight sounded impressed. “It actually worked.” “See? I told you it would.” “You did not say that.” “I thought it.” A second page of notes, a second detailed sketch, and a second confirmation of her artistic skills later, Twilight was finally satisfied with the results. “Should we take it to Celestia now?” Chrysalis asked. The last remnants of numbness fled her body. “Not just yet,” Twilight started. “I want to let it sit overnight. See if there’s any long-lasting effects we should be worried about. We can check back in the morning.” “So, then what should we do for now?” Chrysalis checked the clock. “It’s barely past noon.” “We could go for a walk, but only if you promise not to shatter my hopes and dreams this time.” Chrysalis laughed. “I’ll try my best.” With their new schedule decided, the two cleaned up their mess. New tables would have to be ordered, but that could wait. Chrysalis rinsed the bloody rag in a sink and hung in on a line to dry. Once they found the room sufficiently tidy, they left. Standing side-to-side with the changeling queen and sharing her company, Twilight almost missed her pulse quicken. She recognized the feeling but never gave it much thought. Lost in her own thoughts, she failed to notice Chrysalis’ body petrify. “Maybe, if you behave yourself in the gardens, we can try to actually go outside the castle walls. I could show you around Canterlot. I know this great bookstore not too far from here. Maybe I could introduce you to the Daring Do books.” Chrysalis shuddered. The air tasted sweet. Sickeningly sweet. “My friend Rainbow loves them. They actually might be the only thing she reads.” She wanted to be sick. Her head throbbed. “But that’s only if you want to, I mean—” Twilight pulled open the door to her study. The words died somewhere in her throat. One had been dressed in the finest golden suit of armor money could buy, his blue mane slicked back only to flare out beneath the helmet. The other wore a glittering silver tiara and a matching dress fitted with enough gems to make Rarity jealous, assuming she hadn’t made it in the first place. “Hello, Twilight.” Princess Cadence and Shining Armor beamed at their little sister. “Did you miss us?”