//------------------------------// // Chapter 8 - Conquered // Story: A Queen Imprisoned // by FakeWolf //------------------------------// “Twilight, would you mind giving us some time to talk?”  Those were the first words out of the Witch’s mouth, and her Sightless Student was abashed as she awkwardly shuffled out of the door. Ending the second, and perhaps final, attempt on my life performed by the Sparkle family in the past few weeks. Much to my disappointment. My eyes remained on the Witch herself, never straying to her Sightles Student, even as the latter glanced back furtively during her ascent out of the darkness of my domain. The Witch did not step forward until the intruding light of the palace that lay above was finally closed away, leaving the two of us in the dingy torchlight of my prison. Her... I could not put my tongue on the word I was searching for… I knew it was there, but it seemed hunger had taken it from me. I supposed aurora-like would substitute, but it was a substitute that left my tongue restless in search of what I was truly looking for. I did my best to ignore the shallow yearning tugging on my skull, and let it drop to the wayside with all other distractions. Focus is what I needed as I set my gaze upon the Witch, her aurora-like mane admitting a faint glow in the gloom of my domain, casting away the crawling shadows that lurked around the corners of the room and clung to my body like a well-fitted dress.  Magenta eyes took in my form, no doubt evaluating however sickly my appearance betrayed me to be and making its own judgements. I silently promised to prove whatever evaluations the Witch made wrong. I would not break. Similarly, my own emerald eyes trailed across the Witch’s form. Still as regal and elegant as it had been for nearly a millennium, her body never moving without the unique almost mechanical grace of meticulous practice. Repetition and repetitions over centuries made to remove every ounce of uncontrolled movement that would have betrayed her, a dedication to a task that only the ageless could match and truly appreciate. Briefly, I wondered if it was still possible for the Witch to look rushed or panicked, or if she had forgotten how as the many solstices passed. Small and resolutely petty pride tinged my body as the Witch became the first to end the waiting game that had presented itself during our silent evaluations, finally deciding to open whatever charade of a conversation would take its course here. The Witch’s horn grew flush with its unique iridescent golden glow and the thought that the Witch had decided to kill me here and now briefly flickered past my mind, although my own sense was quick to call out my wishful thinking and close the thought, noting that such a thing was not the Witch’s way and it was far more likely that she was merely doing something to set the scene for however she envisioned the coming conversation she had no doubt planned over the course of a week. That not a moment later I felt the zap of Equestrian magic ripple through the air as something was summoned to the Witch proved whatever part of my mind that had come to the obvious realisation correct. A few things were summoned, actually, each held in the Witch’s golden glow as they were set down between the two of us. A wooden table, if you could call it a table, no taller than the Witch’s hoof, the Ponies probably gave this specific type of table its own special name, and the name was probably stupid and redundant, but that was only one of the items the Witch had summoned, a no doubt atrociously expensive alabaster tray set itself down on the tiny table, carrying with it a set of tea cups, one white trimmed with gold, the other a shadowy dark grey trimmed with the very same gold, and, of course, a pot to match the tray, possessing Celestia’s solar pattern printed on its side and no doubt filled with whatever the Witch’s favourite tea was this century. The Witch Celestia had invited herself into my domain for tea. How infuriatingly expected. “Would you like some tea, Chrysalis?” the Witch offered, her voice far more patient that I would’ve liked or it should’ve been.  I looked at the bars that separated my cell from any of the Ponies that had chosen to pester me, and at the tiny table that sat outside them. “I can teleport the cup inside, if you so wish.” The Witch continued, already pouring both cups full of what I assumed to be an excellent and no doubt expensive blend, probably grown from one of the flourishing plants contained within the expansive gardens of Canterlot Palace. “Tea has never been a vice of mine.” I answered, the Witch did not react in the slightest, not that I really expected her to. She finished pouring her cup, and her eyes met mine as she brought it up for a taste. The Witch’s tone was politely neutral as she spoke. The kind of neutral one used to clear away bad air and touchy subjects so they could convince you they’re trustworthy when the moment allows. I had used a similar tone many times before when under a disguise, but I doubt my delivery had ever been as practiced and flat as the Witch’s. “I am sorry if my student upset you, Chrysalis, I forget that despite how far she’s come she’s still not particularly apt at social situations. Meeting with you might have been a bit much for her.” “I would think you’d be more aware of her ineptness, you trained it. Didn’t you?” The Witch did not flinch at my words, although she did pause in her drinking. “I would like to know why you think that, Chrysalis.”  “‘The Elements chose their bearers for their potential, not for what was already there’ words you are no doubt familiar with? It was you who said them after all.”  Politely, the Witch spoke, voice never rising or wavering, as if merely commenting on a passing observation, “I should not be surprised you are aware of those words of mine, although I fail to see how they justify your accusations, Chrysalis.” A little voice inside me sparked to life, and I found myself taking its offered suggestion with a glee I didn’t know my failing body could still hold. Nonetheless, I began my work, centuries of practice in my own art doing their work to mask the malicious excitement within me. “Please, Witch, we are both far too intelligent for you to play dumb. If, as your Ponies suppose, Friendship is Magic, how would you go about cultivating such potential in your student?” A frown grew on my face, even I would not sink to such lows. “You would isolate them from others, not obviously of course, merely press upon them the importance of studying, give them a constant stream of work and material so that they may devote their life to trying to succeed your expectations, and push away those that reach out to her in the process. Have her study magic, and isolate her so that she would have the room to grow, prevent her from cultivating any bad habits or distractions and groom her into your perfect little puppet, ready to do whatever you say. Perfectly ready to learn friendship when you feel the time is right.” My thoughts briefly reviewed the Witch’s history. She had taken many, many students over the years. Some more accomplished than others. Experiments to learn the right formula for when the time is right no doubt, that recent history the names of her students had become more elusive could be taken as a sign of preparation, the mysterious circumstances that befell her previous student… I still was not sure if that was a particularly bad reaction, or if the Witch guiding them down that path intentionally. I suppose it did not truly matter, it was not likely I would ever get a chance to find out what happened to her. The Witch’s face did not twitch, not a hint of frown or smile appeared on her face during the duration of my thoughts, and the eyes which many believed to be windows into the soul revealed nothing. It was what I expected, but the lack of reaction was a disappointment nonetheless. “If that is what you have come to believe, Chrysalis, I do not think I could convince you otherwise. Although I’d hoped you would recognise that I am no monster, despite what mistakes I may have made in the past.” I felt a low growl rise in my throat, “I would not gloss over all you have done in pursuit of your goal as merely ‘mistakes’, Witch. Your own pursuits have been the cause of much suffering.” “And you have done much the same, Chrysalis, we have lived long lives, but it does not excuse us. You care for your Changelings, do you not? You fight and do whatever you feel necessary to protect them, as do I. We are alike in that regard, and I hope you can put our past behind us.” “Alike?” I growled, my eyes burning as I snarled at the Witch, “we are nothing alike, Witch. I do whatever I need to so that my Changelings may survive, I do not play games with their lives so that I may enact a foolish plan to save a sister who might very well be the undoing of not just Equestria, but others as well.” It appeared that was enough to finally cause the Witch’s silence, and in her silence I finally caught a glimpse of something I had not seen in the Witch’s for many years. Burning, flickering, fleeting flames of emotion. Not much, merely embers of an already burnt out flame flickering to life in the breeze. But however slight those embers were, they proved to be enough for me to sense the Witch’s long dead heart as the embers faded away once more. “... I admit it may not have been the wisest decision, but I had faith in Twilight and her friends-” “Friends that she had not even met yet. Friends she may never have met had a single thing gone differently. Chance upon chance upon chance was taken for a gambit that put the lives of not just your own subjects at risks, but the lives of my Changelings and the other races as well, merely because you were willing to sacrifice Equestria and its Ponies for the chance to see your sister returned to you.” “I had faith in Harmony, and it has always guided me on the right path.” The same insidious spark of malice spoke again, and I felt myself following its words, “Is that the same path that led you to ignore your dear sister and leave her in despair?” Another flare of guilt. If one could cause the brief glimmering brightness amongst the ashes a ‘flare’. “I am not infallible, Chrysalis, nor are you.” “No, neither of us are, aren’t we? But at least I can say that I fought with my heart until my end and did not put my subjects before my own wants.” Magenta eyes met mine through the bars of my domain. “And what if it didn’t have to be? What if I shared with you what many have so generously shared with me?” “I will accept no deal or offer from you, Witch.” “Don’t say what you don’t know to be true, Chrysalis.” “I do not allow myself to be second-guessed, Witch, my path has long been chosen. My death is inevitable.” “Your death, Chrysalis, does not have to happen just yet. There is always a chance for something new, isn’t there? Please, allow me to help.” The words came to me quickly and truthfully. “I’d rather drown.” That insidious voice inside me chuckled. The Witch sighed, her shimmering mane seeming to still for a brief moment. Her heart did not fall, but the Witch Celestia’s expression did shift, despite how minutely and mechanical the movements were, they were present. Its fae grace morbidly fascinating to watch. It held none of the imperfections of life, but that was to be expected of a vessel merely mimicking movements without the meaning behind it. “I’d like to offer you another way, Chrysalis, one where you don’t have to prey upon others to survive. Where you and your subjects can live in peace with my Ponies without fear or retaliation.” Faint protests of pain rose from my jaw as I felt my teeth grit, my voice transforming into a low hiss as I answered the Witch. “And what deluded dream are you suggesting, Witch?” “Starswirl’s notes,” the Witch began, the embers of her heart stirring into what might’ve been a feeling of melancholic loss. I could practically see the memories of a younger time brimming in her heart, but what was there were old and faded things. Knick-knacks to be stored and forgotten about in an attic until someone stumbled upon them while cleaning something away. I did my best to ignore my own stirring memories, the vitriol of betrayal still stinging sharp. One that does not die to age does not easily forget. “What of them, Witch? I doubt he spent much time looking for a cure to my hunger, if such a thought even entered his mind.” “Not directly, and while he did not get the opportunity to learn extensively, he did theorise how Changeling magic works and devised many spells based on what he learnt studying you. In his studies he developed a spell that would’ve allowed a Pony to change the very essence of their magic and being.” I frowned at the Witch, gears shuffling along in my mind, but did not answer the Witch just yet.  “The spell is incomplete, and the true purpose for its creation irrelevant to our own, but with your expertise in Changeling magic, and the aid of my student, I have no doubt we could create a ritual that would allow us to transform every Changeling in Equestria into a Pony, and free them from their need to feed on love in the process.” A purposeful silence formed between us, and when I finally brought myself to speak I did my best to let none of the emotion I felt boiling inside me leak out, instead taking great care to enunciate my words in a slow and careful fashion, “Is that your offer, Witch? Offer my knowledge so that you may transform each and every single one of my kin into one of your Ponies?” “You would no longer need to feed on love to survive, and we could both move past our differences to live in-” “No.” The Witch paused at my interruption, as if honestly caught off-guard. The mechanical being took a moment to restructure itself, her face becoming one of quiet disappointment. I did not allow her to get in the first word. “I am Chrysalis, Queen of the Changelings, it is my duty to ensure their survival however I can.” My eyes narrowed, and I dearly wished my gaze could bore holes through the Witch’s flesh, “I will never steal their future away. Madness has yet to take me, and I will not forget my promises. My Changelings will live on. I will not steal away their very identity merely because it is convenient for me.” “Chrysalis, this goes more beyond a mere grudge between us. This is for the future of your kind, please, won’t you at least consider-” “No,” My voice cut through the Witch’s words, “This is more than just what you call a grudge, Celestia. I have spied on kings and queens of both vice and virtue, and made wed under false identity to more than a few, but I tell you that I have never seen a ruler as lacking in virtue as you, Witch.” The Witch opened her mouth, daring to speak further. But I would not let her. “No ruler I have seen has ever been so apathetic to the lives of their subjects than you, even Sombra cared for his subjects well being, if only so that they would remain productive. You claim to love and nurture, and maybe your twisted mind even believes that so, but I can see your heart, Celestia, I see how little you care. You did not rule Equestria because it was the right thing to do, not out of any love for your Ponies, you did so out of guilt, because you had failed your sister. Then when guilt was no longer enough, you ruled because you knew no other way, and when you finally found out your sister was to return to you?” I wished with every fibre of my being that my glare would be enough to burn the Witch’s head from her neck, “You ruled your Ponies so you would have a weapon to purge away the rot that had infested your sister.” The Witch did not reply, to anypony observing it would seem as if she was merely taking the time to process and think. But not to I. To any Changeling, to those with the gift to perceive the flames of the heart, they would see the Witch’s little pile of ashes glimmering. Burnt out flames being stoked by bitter winds. “And now the more tolerable of the twin Princesses have returned to us, and what are we left with?” I took careful attention to lace my tone with every fibre of bitterness and hate I felt, “A fledgling Alicorn of Love, an anachronistic emotional mess that knew better than to meet me in the flesh, the failed remnants of your attempts to create another of your kind, and the mechanical monster who would put the world under her hoof simply because she does not know what else to do.” I felt a sick grin creep onto my face, and decided to give the fires another stoke, “So tell me, Witch, will you kill me? You cannot keep me and you cannot ‘save’ me, so how will you kill me?” The Witch Celestia sat frozen for a moment, magenta eyes staring not at me but at something far far away. And I found myself speaking once more, “How about that then? Your Ponies are going to get their happy ending after all, the big bad monster under their beds vanquished by their Solar Princess, and my Changelings will live on and do as they always do. Grow, adapt, and find a new way to survive.” Even as I found myself talking past the Witch, no response surfaced from her. “But look at us here, two dead mares, and you offered me tea.” I let out a snort, “I doubt you even understand where you went wrong there, no doubt when your Sightless Student asks if you managed to convince me to give in to your twisted notions of mercy and kindness you’ll give her some prithee remark about how I was irrational and beyond reason. Too far gone to accept the olive branch you supposedly offered.” The Witch stirred, if only to gaze longingly at the tea she held in her hooves. “It doesn’t matter anymore, I have lived a long life, and I think-” I paused, abruptly and without reason, only to find myself starting again, “I think-” another stop, the words choked in my mouth as I gazed at the stone floor of my domain. I could sense the splutters of life in the Witch’s heart slowly dying away. My words returned to me, and despite my protests they shook with emotion still, “I think I’m ready to sink away into oblivion.” There was silence, for a moment at least. It was not short, and it was not overly long. But there was something very, very final about it. I heard the Witch Celestia shift, and when my eyes glanced up I saw the slightest imperfection in her movements, the slightest hints at unease. “I’m sorry.” She spoke, before turning away. I watched the mare with the burnt-out heart leave, and hoped it would be the last time I ever see the pitiful creature again. Alone I waited. Just I always was. All I had been for a while. I lived for my Changelings, but it was time for me to cut them free. It would be the only good thing I’ve done in a long, long while. Hopefully it would be enough to satisfy. There was not anything else I could do. I blinked, a nascent thought struck my mind. Maybe I could do one last thing for my subjects...