Everything, and everyone, are bound by their actions. Each move we make another chain that tethers us to whatever destiny or fate we determine for ourselves. Even if our move is simply not to play at all.
I listened to the sound of distant water drip.
I sat on my perched throne within the Hive. Alone.
The last dregs of my Changelings had left the Hive not less than an hour ago, leaving me behind as per my orders. The Changelings were to fly far from the Hive, splitting into smaller and smaller groups as they travelled, eventually they’d seek out small communities to infiltrate, there, they’d live out the rest of their days. Hopefully they’d survive for more than a year.
I listened as water dripped from the Hive’s ceiling as it stormed.
I waited, patiently, I’d gorged myself on as much love as we could afford to spare. It was a pitiful amount, really, especially when compared to the heights of power I had achieved over the many years of my pitiful existence.
It wasn’t enough to ensure I’d survive what was coming, but that was never in the plan and if it ever came down to it I would admit I was proud of that. That my gluttony had not corrupted me beyond what it meant to be a Changeling.
I heard the sound of thunder, and I judged that the storm was now right on top of the Hive.
They’d brought a storm with them, it was an expected maneuver - they likely guessed they’d be meeting the most aggressive resistance we could conjure, and storms did well to render a Changeling unable to fly.
Storms did terrible things to our gossamer wings, and while a Pegasi might not want to fly in a storm either they could afford weather proofed materials and superior training to carry them through it.
The Pegasi numbers would still be heavily reduced though, many would keep low to the ground and fight with their Earth Pony and Unicorn brethren.
It was something we had counted on, if they brought the storm with them to the Hive they wouldn’t be able to field their aerial force at their best. If they couldn’t place their best in the air then hopefully, hopefully, we would be able to escape the Hive and gather enough distance before they gave chase.
The sound of hooves echoed distantly.
Personally, I was here to buy them as much time as I could, and if all went according to plan then maybe the Ponies would leave my Changelings alone. For now.
Until Ponies discovered Changelings living in their villages, that is, and whoever they discovered fled for their lives.
Until someone noticed the rising trend of finding Changelings in remote, small communities and decided there needed to be an investigation. An inquisition if they decided to be blatant about it. Ponies always had trouble accepting anything outside their own little world, so much so it was baked into their language as much as their government. Large weather control industry - “wild” weather was dangerous, very few ambassadors and proper international diplomatic channels - well, the common pony citizen was fine, and the way they talked , how it infuriated me- anypony could be loved, everypony had a place in the world, somepony you haven’t met yet is just a friend waiting to be made. So them deciding to chase out or imprison any Changeling caught living amongst them wasn't hard for me to imagine. Especially after all that led to this.
The sound of hooves halted outside the throne room.
Were they worried about the lack of Changelings perhaps? Fearing some sort of ambush? We had considered going such a route but… it wasn’t a plan that would work.
Nothing would work.
Nothing but this.
Hopefully.
The grand door opened and through it stepped an alicorn of midnight blue. Behind her an army’s worth of Ponies.
“Chrysalis, your reign of terror has come to an end. Submit and we will be merciful.” Princess Luna's voice was noble, proud, and strengthened by a warrior's spirit and resolve. She would not back down no matter the challenge I propsed. She would see me defeated here.
I rose from my throne and stood to my full height. They had given only an illusion of choice, even if they believed they had truly given me the option it was a mere illusion of one at best. I had made this decision long before my Changelings had fled the Hive. Long before the Ponies marched on my doorstep. I stared into the eyes of the alicorn as I spoke, “No.”
Princess Luna’s horn lit with magic, I leapt into the air and took flight. The Equestian soldiers roared. Our battle begun.
The cadence of marching hoofbeats could be heard throughout Canterlot. A proud, victorious and steady rhythm, accompanied by the chorus of cheers given by the civilian crowd that met them. The image of the Royal Equestrian Army returning home from the final conflict with their dreaded enemy would be burned into the minds of many a young foal and inspired composer. The celebrations and cheers that welcomed the returning heroes of war would be savoured by many Ponies. It would not be inaccurate to say that there was nopony in the city who did not welcome the victory the returning army signalled.
There was one, however, that was sickened by the cheer of the crowd and the proud faces of the colts in their shining metal uniforms. Sickened by how the Ponies cheered at the success of their slaughter. I stood and stared blankly forward, letting none of the disgust that rose behind my mask break the surface. I was unparalleled in my acting ability, so long as I was not drunk on excessive amounts of love, and at the moment I was so very starved. Out of the corner of my eyes I stared at the rising spires of Canterlot that had begun to surround me in a fashion far too familiar to what I had seen many Ponies do in the recent months. I kept myself still as I sat in the centre of their stage, the cage they had placed their greatest trophy of war in. The metaphorical spotlight was on me as I was marched through Canterlot by the proud and oh-so valiant Equestrian army.
That the Changelings had lost the war - or the “Great Siege” as we had called it - was not surprising in the slightest. Equestria was a large and lush land, it’s only downside was the inexperience of its army. Hundreds of years of peace and no real conflict outside mock-battles rusted the sword of Equestria, but the thousands of years of experience of the newly restored alicorn sisters that led said army was more than enough to balance out the relative inexperience of those that served them and clean the rust from what had been their favoured weapon in centuries passed.
In comparison we had nothing, and the prolonged conflict of war had been the death of us.
Maybe it was the witch Celestia’s twisted pity that allowed me to live, or perhaps her sister's sadism was not entirely purged when those Elements of Harmony had healed her years ago. But nonetheless, the worst had happened for the Changelings.
Our Hive shattered, our only survivors starved as they were hunted down. Perhaps now any Changelings they captured would no longer be executed at the nearest convenience, now that they were aimless. Perhaps if the Ponies were as kind as they claimed to be they would allow them to see their Queen one last time in Canterlot before the inevitable would occur and I would be separated from them permanently.
I allowed myself a singular sigh as I reflected once more on how everything had gone wrong. The wedding, the war, our plans, our escape and even my last stand. Too many mistakes after too many years, and still I was denied the chance to make right.
I stood stock still when I finally drifted to sleep. Some part of me hoped never to awaken, that they would rip me of my shame and my head in the peace my sleep offered me.
For what good was a failure of a Queen, imprisoned by her beliefs, her actions, and her enemies as well?
I was still in the world of the living when my eyes opened.
I was still sitting on the platform they had placed me on when I was first captured weeks ago. They didn’t trust me to walk with them on their parade back to Canterlot, which was fair as they would've had to kill me if they wanted me to move otherwise. I was still bound and tightly wrapped in metallic chains, enchanted with magic I had not the power of love to break even if I had still possessed the will to make the attempt. And once again, since the march away from the Hive began I awoke staring forward. Not down at the floor or up at the sky, forwards was where my gaze began and ended. I would not allow myself to bow in my final moments no matter how slight that bow might be. The Equestrians will hear no pleas for mercy, even if I hadn't believed they would just be ignored. I took a breath and reinforced my will to stay strong, to grant them nothing in my final moments. I would die with my head held high even if I had been brought low. No matter how deep my shame or what they offer me, they will remember this moment of silent defiance long after my death. Where the Queen of the Changelings stood still and silent throughout the entirety of their march. Hopefully. Else I'd probably be forgotten before the end of another thousand year cycle.
“The Changelings were no more!” my mind echoed.
That was something I had heard repeated often during the Equestrian’s march home. Perhaps my morose thoughts had brought my memories of those words to my mind. I took the opportunity and downcast mood to ponder how they would choose to do away with the Changeling Queen.
Would they tie a noose around my neck? Would they have an axe or guillotine descend upon me at speed? Would they leave me to starve in a cage, and if so would it be in private or on public display? Maybe something more befitting crimes against the Celestial Throne, like immolation? That last one would be incredibly painful and I hid an internal wince at the thought, if given the chance I decided to avoid that option. The guillotine seemed most appealing right now, as the Equestrians did not practice any traditional Changeling methods of execution, and I doubted the witch Celestia’s mercy would have her capture me alive only to offer me the chance to fight to my dying breath anyway.
My ears twitched as I finally noticed the silence that surrounded us. No sound of thousands of marching hooves, no cheers from an adoring crowd or drunken conversation between two soldiers to overhear. A brief glance to my side told me many things and what had likely occurred. The proud army had gone home, and only a small escort remained to carry me the final distance between wherever in Canterlot I was now and Canterlot Palace.
As my gaze drifted upwards towards Canterlot Palace so far ahead, I could only consider how it was an unfitting place to be my grave, nor could I conceive of it as a fitting place to be where I would last lay my head before my final day. I stared in an emotional haze that was perhaps something akin to longing, although I had been there before only now could understand why it was considered the most beautiful building in Equestria. With all the might and splendor of Equestria on display, it’s opulence and its halls filled with culture and artworks made by long-dead artists whose names could only be found on museums plagues and trivia cards. It was not a place for bugs to be crushed underhoof. It was not a place for bugs at all, they in all likelihood employed a literal army of cleaning staff. All dedicated to the cleansing of any filth that found its way inside the Palace - except for that arrogant Prince Blueblood whenever he decided to visit.
It was beautiful. It was resolute. The pinnacle of Equestrian society. It was a pure place. It was not a place for my kind. How had I once been arrogant enough to claim my own splendor was without match, even while I stood inside those very halls? I was blind then, that was obvious in hindsight, what match was a pitiful and envious insect to this beacon of might?
And here I was, a Queen of nothing besides myself, being carried by a procession of my sworn enemies. Bound and chained and placed on display as a grand trophy of a war that was not as “great” as it would no doubt end up being called. Being marched through the open and awaiting gates of Canterlot Palace.
...
I wasn’t surprised to find more guards waiting for me on the other side of those doors, but what I was surprised to find was that the Captain of the Guard apparently didn’t trust his subordinates to… I’d assumed they would throw me into some sort of dungeon or bring me to the witch Celestia for some tea and scones before my summary execution by her own horn, and while the presence of Shining Armour didn’t negate any of those options… it did provide a certain opportunity.
The Captain definitely shouldn’t have decided to help escort me - no matter what he or others thought of the matter. Hate swirled around him like a storm, and that it was all directed towards me would’ve made me ill if I hadn’t long since stopped passively feeding off of anything I found directed towards me.
But his presence and the stink of his hate gave me an opportunity I hadn’t had during the march, and I found myself thanking my past self for not wasting any energy during the escort and allowing me the opportunity of one last shapeshift.
I tapped the floor of my wheeled platform. It wasn’t a particularly loud noise, but the silence my escort worked in and the chains that covered me gave the sound more than enough opportunity to be noticed.
When the Ponies turned to face me, the ones that had been with me since we entered Canterlot being in a mild state of surprise, I idly noted, they found me staring down their Captain with a question in my eyes.
I tapped my hoof once more before clumsily directing the weighted limb to my gagged mouth.
Watching them confer was a short affair, mostly filled with nervous glances towards their captain before he gave them all a considered nod as his curiosity matched his hate. His magic grabbed a small key that opened up the restraints forcing my mouth closed, any I made a show of working and stretching my jaw as he approached me.
Perhaps it was hate, or perhaps it was overconfidence that led him to standing right in front of me. Maybe he wanted to prove himself unafraid of the monster that had ruined his wedding, to himself or to his subordinates it did not matter to me. What was important was that he had made the mistake of thinking that I was powerless and not merely weakened.
I pulled together the last meager reserves of my magical strength, if this did not work then I’d find myself alive for scarcely a week unless love was fed to me.
I shapeshifted.
Then I kissed him, right on the lips. Nothing special or fancy, just a short loving kiss on the lips that a couple might share. Which was appropriate with who I was disguised as.
That the monster he hated so much had the audacity to disguise itself as his wife and kiss him on the lips, something that no doubt was reminiscent of that dreadful wedding, the days that led up to it, and all that occurred during that traumatic time, and that he knew the monster to feed on stolen love… Well, there was only one response that anyone could imagine in that situation.
Shining Armour released a blast of offensive magic right into my face. A blast powered by surprise and shock and hate and no doubt fear and whatever strange emotions his mind flashed back to. That the magical blast was powerful enough to rip my chains out of their wheeled platform came as a minor surprise to me but I it didn’t matter in the grand scheme of the following events.
I felt my disguise rip away as I flew through the air and collided with whatever wall was behind me. The chains weighing heavily on my injur- more injured form. I raised my head at the sound of heavy hoofbeats as Shining Armour approached me, his eyes blazing with hatred. I sat with my back rested against the wall behind me as I felt blood beginning to pool in my mouth.
My mouth was still uncovered so I decided to make use of it as the raging Guard Captain approached, “My my my, Shining Armour your love tastes so sweet, and to welcome your-” a blast of magic that landed close enough to singe the tangled mess that was my hair but not enough to hit my head cut me off as I flinched away from the blast. Not entirely intentional but I could get away with displaying such weakness here. Shining Armour continued his approach and I took the opportunity to resume my mocking diatribe “what is this? I thought Ponies all treated others with love and tolerance!” the Captain’s horn grew brighter as whatever spell he was charging drew in more and more magic. I took the opportunity to cough before I resumed my tauntings, I took the splatter of blood on the floor that followed said cough as a good sign, "Is this how you treat all your guests? It’s almost as if you want me dead, my dear Shining Armour,” oh how I relished the look of hatred in his eyes, even if the subconscious thought of consuming such emotions made me feel ill, “but I suppose that is the fault of Equestrians. You’re all too caring until-”
A powerful blast of magic to my gut shut me up quicker than I would’ve liked, and I felt bile and blood rising up my throat once more. I bit back on the instincts to hack and cough and clear my throat and mouth of the foul substances collecting within it, although that did not stop whatever mixture of substances from leaking out of my grit teeth like a frog in the paws of a predator.
By the time I had gathered enough strength to not cry out in pain if I dared to open my mouth, Shining Armour was already standing atop me with a blindingly bright horn. I stared up with not a small bit of terror, and with great effort I managed to summon what I hoped to be my best scowl. “Do it. Kill me. Is that not your duty, to protect Equestria from monsters like me?”
Shining Armour opened his mouth- in all likelihood about to offer his own witty comeback- but whether that comeback was to accept or deny my offer to grant me death was a question left unanswered as a voice boomed next to us.
“SHINING ARMOUR!” The witch Celestia yelled. It seemed here too Celestia had to interfere, if only to protect her subjects at the detriment of others.
“She attacked! She attempted to drain my love! I was only-”
“Playing into her hooves, Shining Armour. You are relieved. Return home and remain away from Canterlot Palace until otherwise notified.” when he made to protestest she added with a surprisingly vitrolic hiss "That is an order, Captain Armour." Whether it was her icy tone or the actual words spoken, it was enough to subject Shining Armour to enough shock for the witch Celestia to easily capture me in her telekinetic grip and separate myself and the Guard Captain.
I scowled at the witch as she continued to talk. Scolding Shining Armour and returning me to my wheeled prison. That she had somehow found the time to heal me of the most grievous of my injuries only incensed me further, such magical might and she dares not leave her country or work towards anything grander than the betterment of her Ponies. A waste of strength and magic for something so foolish.
The witch Celestia left soon after I spat that particular remark at her.
It did not take long for me to be dragged away from where I had been attacked by the Guard Captain. The faint ringing in my ears grew quieter as time passed, although for while it was present it was more than enough to prevent the silence that would’ve met me otherwise. The oppressive quiet contrasted nicely with the victorious chorus of the marching army that had filled my ears for so many days and nights. I could hear the soft clinking of chains as they swayed and touched against each other with every rock and miniscule movement of the damaged and hastily repaired platform that held my restrained body, and the meek trot of hooves that now accompanied the tinny chorus. Victory, and in private, failure.
I found myself lost in those sounds, whether my interest was genuine or merely delirium I did not know and could not be bothered to care to know. In either case it had been either too soon or far too long for us to finally come to a stop. As my private musical stopped I found myself focusing on the strangest of sights. A simple door sat in front of our procession, held open by one of the cookie-cutter Ponies in golden armour that dotted the palace like dolls in a fillies bedroom. The door was not ostentatious or grand, nor was it carved of expensive wood or meticulously polished as would be expected of anything in the Palace. it was in fact quite the opposite. It was reinforced with heavy-looking metals but held no gold or ridiculous and frivolous carvings or decorations. It was the kind of door that told you the story of whatever was behind it, despite the lack of words or images that might’ve adorned other doors. It was where you put something you didn’t want to see, behind that door is where things were too-easily forgotten, where the lights were dim and only the very rare Pony ever ventured. The door that would be barely within your perception as you passed it by. The door that broke the ice with conversations of what may be behind it, despite no one present having ever looked at what was at the otherside.
It was far more fitting, and I could feel the wry grin on my bloodied muzzle. A dark and little-used room, where the fallen and arrogant Queen will reside until her end of days. A place that only the shameful would inhabit. Where the bugs that crawled and festered in whatever was left down there for too long. Where things were left to rot. That is what languished beyond that door.
But before I could enter my newest abode, the guards that brought me here must remove me from where I was bound. The earlier display had cowed them, and they struggled to maintain a front of bravery as they worked to lift my watching form off the platform and into the air and onto my hooves. But nothing could hide from my sight, I could see every nervous flick of their eyes and twitch of their muscles. They held the chains that were still attached to the many shackles that adorned me, and I suspected that many of them would’ve hurt themselves if they had to maintain such a grip for long. They feared the weakened Changeling Queen and I drank in the sight of it.
As pitiful and weak as I was, that my captors still feared me sent my heart aflutter.
I allowed a pleasant smile to adorn my face, and those that could see it flinched.
I held myself tall despite how the chains weighed me down and wrapped around me. I did not resist as they led me through what may have been my favourite door if I had ever discovered it at a time where I was free to pick favourites and not merely mourn the loss of them.
I made no move to stop them as they led me down the stairs and the air around us became fittingly dank and the brightly lit halls of the Palace that were mere steps away were suddenly replaced by lighting found only within the deepest of nightmares. The walls were still stone, but no longer were they polished, bright, and shining coloured rock the witch had decided to make their abode out of. The stone that made up these walls were drab and grey, fittingly dark and fittingly dreary.
A note of surprise flickered through me as we reached the bottom of the narrow staircase the door hid. I had expected to be treated to the sight of rows upon rows of cramped and dirty cells. Of the sight of rats running through the filth and rusty iron bars the guards marched me through a corridor too cramped for anyone to find comfort in. What I instead found and had not expected was to be treated to a large and very empty rectangular room. The last third of the room was taken up entirely by a singular cell. A row of bars sat, stemming out of short outcroppings of bricks in the ceilings and walls, separating the cell from the rest of the chamber- yes, a chamber that is what this room was. Not the public chambers used as ballrooms or meeting rooms, but something else, something more akin to a bedchamber. A room that had clearly been expecting an occupant to make its rest here.
The bars that separate me from what I guessed to be my new home did not prevent me from looking into the cell and seeing the large and ratty cot. The dirtied metal of a chamberpot could be seen in clear sight where it was on the floor by the end of the bed and away from the small carpet had been laid down in the centre of the cell. A sink had been planted on the wall outside my cell, in the middle of the space between the cell and the bottom of the stairway to this forgotten chamber. A mirror that looked as if it had not been cleaned for many years rested above the sink, a no-doubt thoughtful luxury so that a prisoner can see how bad they look whenever they decide to wash their face. No other distractions or amusements could be found within the cell or conjoining room, nothing for a prisoner to look at or watch and while away their accruing hours of boredom as they made themselves comfortable and guilty thoughts began to plague them.
I did not stop or hesitate as my guards marched me inside that cell, and as I stepped inside the cell I did something that I had not done in the living memory of any mortal Pony or Changeling. I mentally declared the lands of this cell my own. This cell with its bare and un-accessorised cot, several sizes too-small for someone of my stature, and its worn and moth ridden excuse for a carpet that sat in its centre, and of course let us not forget about the all important chamberpot- the chamberpot that was likely built and placed in this cell several centuries ago and that would not be used because Changelings do not require the chamberpot!
I paused. I took a deep breath, and slowly, ever-so-slowly, released the gathered air through a steadily relaxing jaw.
I kept my eyes closed and my body silent as I stood in my new domain, allowing the guards to remove the chains from my body without issue. If I imagined hard enough I could almost believe I was back in the Hive and was being disrobed by loyal Changelings after a hard day of politicking and managing the growing hive.
But that illusion shattered all-too easily when I heard the cell door close and lock, each accompanied by a loud clang and cranking sound, and the nervous guards slowly removed themselves from my presence. I opened my eyes and found myself alone.
If only I had done so many years earlier.