If there was one thing which granted me small amusement during the quiet and scarce moments where I was distracted enough that brief flitterings of amusement could worm their way into my mind through the mire of dark worry, it was how I had come to hate waiting.
I sat in the dark shadows of my domain, my back pressed against the wall to support my aching body. Meanwhile, and to my great consternation in my more lucid moments, my mind ran itself in circles as I was helplessly forced to consider and imagine the one thing I had to look forward to. A visit from the small Queen, the Princess of Love.
My thoughts were like tar as questions forced themselves to be answered a million times over. Their disgusting texture sticking to and staining whatever other thoughts they brushed as they slowly crawled through my mind.
Would there be rage? Yes, there would.
Would there be grief? I wouldn’t bet against it.
Would there be sorrow? Joy? Relief? Pain?
How much pain?
Would the pain be enough?
I was forced to consider these questions, to determine every possible answer and how many ways all the previous were wrong. Lest my focus wander onto darker things, and see fit to watch the flickering failing flame that-
How would the visit from the small Queen go? Would there be rage? No, she has already won, and I have no rage to muster. Would there be grief? Possibly, or perhaps instead, reconciliation?
Would there be sorrow? Sad smiles and small breaks? Pain?
How much pain?
Would the pain be deserved?
It was truly dreary, how my mind ran in circles. Forced to consider and reconsider the immediate future and how meeting the youngest Equestrian Princess once more would go as if my fate was a rickety bridge stretching across a windy chasm. Unstable and crossed with much trepidation.
It was with great dread I thought in these circles, anticipation and… and anxiety- oh how I distasted, loathed, that emotion- that kept my mind from merely becoming numb and allowing time to pass.
Thus, it was some kind of cruel mercy that I was released from that prison of thoughts and given something to focus on. Namely, the arrival of my dreaded guest.
A brilliant and blinding beacon of light and warmth shone through the cracks of the door that sat up above the dingy staircase into my domain. Rays of faux-light falsely illuminating the floor and everything around it with a strange glow.
I felt a minor fascination as I watched how the pink faux-light briefly wavered and rebuilt themselves to the tune of ringing steps as gilded hooves crossed cold stone.
Waver. Step. Grow.
Waver. Step. Grow.
Waver. Step. Grow.
Eventually, my fascination was redirected towards the source of the faux-light. The pink mare with her multicoloured mane, who decorated herself with the gilded accessories of a princess. Although she still wore nothing as unique or significant as the regalia of her elder Princesses.
She who held what was perhaps one of the most amazing flames I had ever seen.
A part of me still felt as jealous as I had once been when I first met the mare. Her flame slowly, almost calmly, weaved and danced with itself. Base emotions mixing and colliding only to end in the same fiery tips of love that reached out to brush the world around it.
Yes, I could see why I had been jealous, - Why I felt jealous still, if to a significantly less degree, - as I watched and measured her blazing heart with the keen eyes of a faded creature.
Strange sorrow and shallow amusement mixed within myself as I watched nervousness nip at the young Princess' flame as we slowly met each other’s gaze.
Eventually, as all things good and quiet often do, the moment ended no more abruptly than it began. “Queen Chrysalis.” Cadance acknowledged, giving me a strange shallow bow.
My mind filtered through her acts and words as practice brought me to consider what she said with more detail than frankly necessary. Two words. A title. A single noun, and a bow.
You could say it meant very little, you could say it meant quite a bit. I was more inclined to believe the latter. More interesting conclusions and questions dwelt that way.
“Queen of what, Young Princess?“ My words were slow, dry, and devoid of most emotion. My mind twinged with distaste as I made note of how exhaustion dripped off my voice. Tiny, old, devoid, the pitiful smoldering scraps of a mighty blaze.
“... Queen of the Changelings?”
“And what Changelings follow me, Young Princess?” I asked the small Queen as her body and flame nervously drew into themselves.
But only briefly did she need to gather her strength, her emotions and body braced themselves despite the obvious fear the small Queen felt. Rebuilding herself stronger with each beat of her heart. “What makes you so sure they don’t?”
“I led them astray. I was foolish and mad. The Hive is lost. They would have to be truly foolish to choose to follow me still.”
“I heard they call you Mother.”
“And where did you hear such a thing?”
“When I toured camps with my husband. When… we had not settled into... allowing no Changeling into any camp, even as a prisoner.”
“And what did you learn, Young Princess? What lies did my kin spin and which did you believe?”
“They told me of their home, and their pride, their hunger, and above all else…” Her flame flickered with sorrow born from sympathy, and tinged with fear. Personal fear, the kind born from the heart rather than the edge of a blade. “... their Mother.”
I didn’t quite have the words to talk, I had known that the small Queen had made appearances in some of the safer military camps early on, ostensibly to improve morale. Spies and escaped prisoners had made such a thing clearly known to me. Too heavily guarded for an attack to be made against her however, and the visits stopped after a few raids where we snuck in under her guise.
They took that lesson to heart. That the Changelings did not fight ‘fair’. That we would use whatever means we could to strike at them. That no matter how tight their defences were we would find a crack to sneak through.
As reinforcements, as heroes returning from battle, among their wounded, among their dead, among their supplies, and even as prisoners - both as rescued ‘Ponies’ or captured Changelings.
It wasn’t enough. We- I was foolish to even think it might be.
We could only delay, to stall, to hurt them back and make them regret their attempts to drive us off. A swarm of insects nipping and biting a larger beast could harm and hurt, but it could not kill. Not alone, not directly.
“-Chrysalis?”’ the small Queen's voice broke through my little jaunt through past woes. What good would thinking of a war already lost do for me?
“Yes, sma- Young Princess? What do you want?”
“I asked if you missed your… children… too.”
“I do.”
“And you think they don’t?”
“I would hope they have chosen to forget about me.”
“Why would you want that?”
My eyes narrowed through the gloom, “I am a failure of a ruler, Young Princess. I am not, nor ever was, worthy of my Changelings and their loyalty.”
“But you still had their loyalty. Their love. They call you mother and you’re abandoning them?!” The pink mare turned, her voice raised as an inferno of outrage stormed through her body. “Celestia said she found mentions of Changelings in one of Starswirl's journals. I talked to some of the others you visited- Rarity said you talked about the very beginnings of the Changeling Kingdom like you were there! I had to find maps over a thousand years old to even find out if you were telling the truth about how the Badlands used to be! You were!” Her eyes narrowed, she stomped her hoof, the passion inside her burned. “You were there, you're as old as Celestia, maybe even older! You led your Changelings through all that time, if you hadn’t done something right you would never have had their loyalty at all! AND YOU’RE CHOOSING TO ABANDON THEM!”
It is hard, when someone is so passionate, for you to not feel a fraction of that passion yourself. Harder still, when you are far more sensitive to the emotions of others around you. Doubtlessly harder when whoever was speaking is a living, breathing, walking bonfire of emotion even at her most passive. Near impossible when what they are speaking strikes a cord within you.
Still, finding myself swept up in her blaze was another failure. I snarled. “To find someone BETTER! SOMEONE WHO CAN HELP THEM! SOMEONE WHO WON’T HAVE THEM MARCH TO THEIR OWN SLAUGHTER AGAIN!”
“Who?!” She all but screamed, “Who will lead them but you? Did you even decide that when you sent them away and ran? Or did you decide it wasn’t your problem anymore, that it was their problem and that you weren’t responsible for it anymore?”
I hissed, and felt my entire body quivering in rage, “How dare you! You know nothing! Nothing! What experience, what right do you have to lecture me about ruling? About responsibility? When have you been anything more than a victim and a babysitter!”
“At the very least I didn’t abandon my family when it got tough! I fought! I beat you!”
I felt my gut wrench at her words. Twisting, burning smoke and poisonous fumes filled me. Pressing the urge, the need, to hurt her. To strike back. To allow no weakness. How dare she question me? I was-
I was…
She was right, and that is why it hurt. No matter how many times I had admitted it, how many times I scorned those who said differently.
I lost.
What did I have? A single, pegasus subject with too fragile a heart to do what I asked of them, and a dank, rotting, cell to call my home.
I had nothing.
Had… had I abandoned my subjects? Left them out in the cold when they still needed me?
No. They were strong, I had taught them how to be.
But… they had never truly been without me, had they?
I had always been there, just like- oh how I loathed the comparison- the witch Celestia.
No. They were Changelings, not Ponies. We were stronger, we did not need to be coddled, we… they would adapt and survive.
Or at least… I hoped they would.
A long, slow breath filled me. To calm and compose myself and return my will upon my flame. My gaze returned to the pink mare who had spoken, staring at me as her heart burned in silent surprise and mild fascination.
“This conversation is over. I no longer have a choice in the matter. My Changelings will survive without me.” I poured every ounce of authority I had into those words. Transforming them from what may have been flimsy nothings into a ruler’s declaration.
If one only heard by myself and the small Queen.
Unfortunately, despite how rumination on truly unimportant things tickled my mind. I was broken away from my escape and out of my thoughts once more by the small Queen “What are you going to do?”
I blinked at the pink mare, “What do you mean, Pony? What have I to do?”
Cadance, apparently deciding that the woes of my people bothered her, chose to stare right back at me. “You’re wrong. You can still help your Changelings. Why would you abandon them in their time of need?”
“I said this conversation was over.”
“And I disagree.”
“And what gives you the right?”
“What gives you the right? You have to make a decision, you can’t just sit here and pity yourself. You. have. to. Choose!” A tower of burning passion born from her heart rose higher with her every word.
“I have already made my decision, and I would be a poor ruler if I allowed myself to be second guessed, even by myself.”
“What- that doesn’t make any sense!”
“I have set this course for myself, I will see it through.”
The pink Princess let out a truly un-Pony-like growl, irritation sizzling and sputtering through her heart.
I gazed down at Cadance and carefully considered my next words. It would be poor of me if I allowed something as simple as phrasing to get in the way of my point. When I spoke, I did what I could to ensure my voice remained firm despite my failing body.
“It is much like your wedding, Young Princess.” Irritation, now flanked with sharp surprise and shock, especially as what were likely bad memories dredged themselves out of the depth of her mind, but she was paying closer attention now. “Once my invasion began, there was no backing out. Especially when I had gotten so close.” Her irritation grew, but slowly, shock died and gave way to a small serving of curiosity. “What would my kin think if I decided to abandon the plan when we were so close? Minutes away from complete victory? Merely because of a few minor and inevitable hiccups that would have occurred soon nonetheless.” Her irritation was being sharpened by my words, and an outburst of rage was likely to follow at its current course. Time to give her something of a win and something to consider. “Perhaps it was more of the madness that had taken me, love is a powerful yet intoxicating emotion, don’t you agree?” The rage halted, paused, unsure of itself, concern- not for myself but for the actions she had likely considered taking just then- making her check my words and their meaning. “But nonetheless, I could not stop. I could not turn my back on our goal. Just like now.” A slow, creaking, gesture to the rest of my domain. “I am not fit nor able nor willing to change this course of action.”
I could see a response bubbling up behind the small Queen’s eyes, but I doubted it would be anything that could truly persuade opr tempt me. An alicorn she may be, but she was still young and small. Not even beyond her mortal years, a mere bud waiting to grow.
“I don’t think you mean any of that.” She began, her emotions had shifted during my wandering thoughts. From a cocktail of confusion, mild irritation, and grudging acknowledgement to a flowing mix of pride, smugness, eagerness, and hope.
I remained silent, if the small Queen believed she had a victory be it not me to disallow her to provide the rope she hangs herself with.
“My wedding- your invasion- that’s different to what is going on now. There are no stakes here. Canterlot isn’t at risk, nor are your Changelings. The only thing that is at risk is yourself.” She was proud of her deduction, although I could not see any point behind it. “And you’re choosing not to play. You… don’t want to win here. You don’t want to survive.” Another smile, although this one was quickly consumed by sadness and pity as she moved onto her next wave of nonsense. “Do you know what I see when I look at you?”
“The monster who ruined your wedding? Who declared war against Equestria? A parasite to be removed by your precious and no doubt clean hooves?” I spoke, although it seemed not enough to break her off her monologue, as she merely shook her head and continued.
“I see self-hate. The most powerful emotion you feel right now, is how much you hate yourself. How much you hate everything around you, and how much you hate not being able to do anything about it,” The small Queen’s voice turned soft for a moment, “and how that all loops around to the start again.” Confidence returned to her though, giving her voice strength, if of a shaky kind. “Because you never tried. Have you ever tried not hating something? Have you tried forgiving yourself?”
“And what makes you say that?”
“Because if you wanted to die, to do what you tried with my husband again, you’d be trying a lot harder. You wouldn’t be sitting here waiting for a reason to care to come by.”
“You’re wrong foolish Pony, the only way out of this is my death. There is nothing left for me. I refuse any other future.”
“You don’t want to see your children grow? To watch over them?”
“Look where ‘watching over my children’ has gotten me, foolish mare.” I hissed, rage prickling across my chitin. “A cold cage to rest my head as I await the axe. My children scattered across lands not their own in a desperate bid and search for survival.”
“Then be their survival. Choose to try again and do better instead of just sitting here!”
“I cannot lead my people again-”
“Then don’t! Just watch! Let them learn and correct them when they fall! Don’t just abandon them!” She pressed, I could feel her own rage and irritation matching my own.
“And why do you care what I do? My Changelings invaded your wedding, fed on love that should’ve been yours, ruined your most special day. Why would I take the advice of a mare who has no reason not to hate us?”
“Because I want proof!” She cried, her tone visceral as it released an emotional outpouring. Desperation, but at the root of it, love. “I want proof that you’re a good mother. Because- because if you can be a good mother, or can become one, then anyone can! And if anyone can that means I can as well!”
Silence struck the room. At first it was merely a pause and we both registered shock, Cadance at letting such a thing slip, and myself at the news. An alicorn babe was due? Admittedly I was no expert of biology and reading the body language of a Pony was something I had never really properly learnt, but the small Queen did not look far along.
What was a mere pause turned into a near haunting silence as we both stared at the other. Thinking, considering, our flames flickering in a silent dance parted by the cold valley gouged between them.
“Who has been told?” I eventually asked, if simply to sate the welling but ultimately unneeded curiosity.
“... Only Celestia. Shiny doesn’t know yet. If he did I don’t think he’d let me come to see you.” A sheepish Cadance answered.
“So you came here to tempt me away from my desired path, merely because you were unsure if you would be a suitable mother?”
“I… yes.” The downcast mare responded, face hiding behind her hair in a way not dissimilar from Little Lamb.
“Stupid grub, you are the Alicorn of Love. Your heart radiates it blindingly, you love all. I have no doubt you’d be a fine mother, if perhaps occasionally lax in discipline.” My mouth spoke without the slightest bit care for my own consent to such words in the slightest.
My words, as surprising as they were to me, were no doubt more surprising to the small Queen. “You think I’d be a good mother?” her voice squeaked, before falling to a somewhat more reasonable pitch as confusion thoroughly blasted through her. “Wait- you can see emotions?”
“What creature does not possess the ability to sense their own chosen food?” I snorted “Although ‘see’ would be incorrect and I find that Equish lacks a proper verb for a sense nopony possesses.” I paused before tilting my head at the small Queen meaningfully, “well, almost nopony.”
Cadance blinked in surprise, of course. Perhaps foolishly so. Believing an ability is unique to you and only you is a truly arrogant thing, then again, Ponies were arrogant as a species. Often believing the world revolved around them, that they were the rightful custodians of the land and sky.
A foolish notion, but foolishness and arrogance is a disease no one is free of. The Alicorn of Love believing an ability nopony else possessed was utterly unique to her? When the witch Celestia likely claimed no memory of any other holder of said ability?
Eventually, one would stop looking, and if they discovered the truth of their foolishness? Well, an exception can be made and surprise forgiven in this case.
The small Queen broke out of her stupor with the grace of a love-drunk nymph. Rump falling behind and onto the stone floor in a truly undignified manner. Alas, I was given no time to scold or mock as the Alicorn of Love leaped at the bars with the ferocity of a grasshopper. Words coming out of her mouth at a rate far too fast to be intelligible.
Finally, after looking at my evident confusion, the young Alicorn gave an embarrassed cough and began once again, her voice far more clear and sedate then its previous buzz. “Could you teach me?”
“I would think not. We are far too limited on time for such a thing to take place.”
Sadness, but a grin formed on the pink princess’ features. “But you could if you chose to live, couldn’t you?”
“You have time to learn this on your own, do you not?”
“I… don’t know what I’m doing. It only really started after I ascended and Auntie said it wasn’t normal for Alicorns and that… that getting used to it would probably take a lifetime.”
I snorted in distaste at the mention of the witch. “I could teach you, you’d be worse at it than a grub for far too long, but why would I?”
I did not expect the mare to have a reply ready for me. “For kindness's sake? To be generous instead of needlessly greedy?” She blinked, “Maybe to try something new? If you don’t think you can lead, maybe you could teach instead? I… never learnt how to get used to this, how to understand what I… ‘see’?... I’ve only really learned how to ignore it and… how to sometimes get an idea of what they might be feeling.”
I found my attention once more wandering, and could not find it in myself to place the effort to re-assert myself. I could do that, couldn’t I? Teach the small Queen the ways of the Changelings, how to feel the emotions of others and understand how flame and heart weaved together. She could perhaps be the first and only Pony able to join or lead a Changeling Hive.
My eyes hovered over the mare, a fresh young ruler, without any kingdom or lands. Possessing the abilities required to lead a Hive, but a background far different from any Changeling of current.
She’d need to be taught, and need to experience life within the Hive but… a new leader? One likely far more able?
If Cadance claimed the Changelings as her own, the witch Celestia wouldn’t dare attack or harm them.
If I became her teacher in how the Hives worked… I would be under guard, the direct guard of a Princess no less. I would have to put up with her oaf of a husband but that would be a bridge for another time. it would more than satisfy any need to keep me ‘contained’ however, would it not?
Freedom and new purpose, a new and better life for my Changelings.
All of it.
For the price of submitting and bowing to Ponies.
To subjugate my kin to whatever woes befall them as they are forced to endure the sheer intolerance of Ponies. Ponies who already have reason to hate and despise.
The witch Celestia may choose to preach the oath of ‘forgive and forget’, but that mare had a millenia long memory, and grudges far older than any mortal Pony.
By the time my awareness returned to me I did not know how long it had been. Merely that the small Queen was long gone, and my mind was still split.
I looked once more at the inside of my domain. A bed of old wood too small for my frame, a tarnished iron pot full of waste, a ratty carpet frayed and nibbled on, the broken remnants of dreams from an old soul, an ever present hunger that deepened and clawed with each passing second, and finally, the most recent addition, a broken and disgusting decision slowly ticking away until its judgement.