What went wrong?
Chrysalis asked herself this question hour after hour all night, replaying and dissecting the incident over and over in her head. What did she miss? Why? How could she have grown so sloppy? And most importantly, what could she do to regain the young mare’s trust?
Two days now. Two days without sleep, without a proper stretch of time where she could gather her thoughts. Deception necessitated thinking on the fly, but something about this was different – too… distracting. Disorienting. As if the floor beneath her hooves might suddenly give way, or the world itself flip upside down at a moment’s notice.
Even the dim glow of a bedside lamp felt like too much input, too revealing, allowing hidden spies to gauge her emotions or read her mind. She knew her room well enough not to stumble in the dark, but maybe so did they. Perhaps this was her plan all along, to manipulate the manipulator.
But she wouldn’t be outdone – couldn’t be outdone – for she was Chrysalis, Master of Deception, Mother to Millions and Matriarch of the Hidden Menace. For a thousand years it was her guile, her wit and will and adaptiveness that ensured the changelings’ survival, whatever the cost. Only a queen of equal standing could defeat her, and so long as she lived, there would never be such a thing.
And yet the obstacles surrounding her seemed insurmountable. Oppressive. Trapped in a cage of her own design.
“No, no, no,” she grumbled to herself, coming to a halt in front of the dresser, glaring into an abyss. “Not you. Not you. Cadence, she… she did this. Toyed with you the previous night. Hoped you’d… engross yourself in her threats. Yes. Yes, that little… cur, that snake who thinks herself an angel. She’s the one who…”
But if she was, then that would mean Chrysalis had been bested. And she knew for a fact that couldn’t be so: she hadn’t given up just yet. Nor had the sun risen, which meant there was still time for her to concoct a new plan of attack before she too was expected to rise. But no progress would be made if she didn’t understand the cause of her rift with Flurry Heart to begin with.
“How?” she questioned, resuming the aimless circles that made her feel like she was accomplishing something. “How?”
And then she jumped as she heard a knock on the door. She’d forgotten there was a door at all, and it certainly didn’t appear to be where she remembered it being. More curiously, she realised, she hadn’t heard anyone approach. Had she truly been so lost in thought?
No, she was always vigilant, always watchful. Nothing, not even the ghost of a smile or the faint twitch of displeasure, slipped by her. They, whoever they were, must’ve taken precautions to stay silent.
“Assassins?”
They wouldn’t have bothered knocking, nor would they have fit her conduct. Unless the wretch had finally grown wise enough to sink to her cold-blooded level and end things once and for all. But the repercussions, yes, the repercussions would be too great – betraying Twilight’s ideals. She was bound to them, as much as Chrysalis was bound to her self-determined fate.
The knocking came again, another three in quick succession. “Chrysalis,” Shining Armor’s voice beckoned, imbued with grim undertones. “Come out. Now.”
A single assassin, then, perhaps acting on his own initiative, doing what the love of his life would not. But that didn’t make sense either: he had more reason than anyone to stay in Twilight’s good graces, and he’d been the less bellicose of the pair upon the queen’s arrival, no doubt influenced by his sister.
“Now, Chrysalis,” he commanded, and knocked three more times, nearly smashing the door from its hinges. “We’re all getting tired of these games.”
Games? No. No, there was only one game she ever played: the Game, where every minute, every precious second of existence was indispensable, and could mean the difference between life and death. The very same game that everyone had a part in, whether they knew it or not. A game where she was champion.
Chrysalis turned towards the source of the noise and marched for it, then seized the doorknob in her magical grasp and twisted. “What?” she hissed while baring her fangs, thrusting her head through as the door swung open.
Shining Armor stared back at her, nose to nose, unfazed. He wore his distinctive purple barding with gold trim, and a pair of guards flanked either side of him, each armed with swords holstered at their hips – an ideal choice for close-quarters combat. “By the authority and order of Her Royal Highness, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza of the Crystal Empire, Lady of Love and my honoured wife, and with a great deal of personal disappointment… I am hereby placing you under arrest until further notice.”
An unwelcome development, but one Chrysalis had most definitely suspected might happen. Callous indeed. “Under what charge?”
“Kidnapping, attempted murder, hostile actions against the crown and numerous violations of internationally recognised Equestrian sovereignty,” he elaborated, stone-faced as if he were a statue of pure white marble. “The list is incredibly detailed, well-documented and goes on and on. I can read it all to you once you’re in a cell.”
Being captain suited him. Celestia certainly had an eye for talent, and Cadance, for all her infuriating qualities, had chosen well for a mate. “Spare me the pathetic attempts at concealing her true intentions. I know why she sent you.”
“Then you know you’ll never see our daughter again.”
The tension, the tenor of his voice, so palpable that she could practically swallow its fermented, sparkling essence by the mouthful. And it guided her as the wind would a leaf, easing her lips together from outright contempt to simmering malice. “Come to your senses at last, consort?”
“I’m not sorry that you were given a chance. I’m sorry that you wasted it.” With a flick of his ear, he signalled the guards to ready their weapons. “Now, how about you come to your senses and make this easy for everypony?”
She eyed his companions – three stallions and a mare – with an equally malignant gaze, before returning to him. “So I shall.”
With a sudden burst of speed she yanked herself from the doorway and slammed it shut in his face, and just as Shining splintered the wood in an explosion of raw magic she removed the ring from her horn. Ice-cold flames blazed throughout the room, and before her assailants could do anything about it, Chrysalis unleashed a roar of slag and hellfire. They retreated back into the hall, while she was left free to whirl about and ram her newfound bulk against the opposing wall.
The crystalline surface cracked, shattered, and terrified screams pierced through the noise of crumbling debris as Chrysalis took flight from the palace. Leathery wings carried her over the city surrounding it, casting a dreadful silhouette on the dawning sky that eclipsed the vanishing stars. But although she entertained the idea of wholesale devastation, melting their hovels and lavish abodes, random carnage wasn’t her goal.
Scales burned into feathers as she came about, aiming headlong for the palace balcony overlooking the central plaza. She dove at blinding speed, then once inside swooped upwards and changed form yet again, this time into a creature that could burrow through solid bedrock. Demolishing one ceiling, emerging from the floor of the next storey, and the next, she finally found herself on the correct level.
Lights trembled and flickered as tremors shook the walls, and servants scattered at the sight of her, but once she’d finished scaring off the vermin, she transformed herself one last time, and galloped deeper into the main living quarters. There, close to the centre, she came upon another door, and barged it open without caring to use her magic.
Flurry gawked at her with shock and awe from the head of her bed. “M-Mom?” she stammered, hugging her favourite toy snail. “What’s happening? It sounded like—”
“It’s okay, Flurry,” Chrysalis soothed, continuing to gallop toward the young mare until she was within reach, where she pulled her into a tight embrace. “It’s okay, I’m here. Mommy’s here.” She pressed her muzzle to Flurry’s forehead for a kiss, and despite the sweet perfume in her mane, she caught the foul, cloying odor of terror as well. “But we need to go. We’re not safe here anymore.”
Flurry pushed against her and peered up into her eyes. “What do you mean?”
“Not right now, dear.” Pulling the filly by her hoof, Chrysalis led her out of bed and began rushing back the way she came. “Your father is buying us time.”
“Time for what?” Flurry cried, and the fear in her voice shot needles deep into the queen’s abdomen. “Is he in danger?”
“I’m sure he’s fine.”
“W-w-well, we should help him then, shouldn’t we?”
“No!” Chrysalis stopped dead in her tracks and glared at Flurry with flattened ears and upturned brows, teeth chattering from the sheer amount of adrenaline coursing through her veins. But she wasn’t angry, barely even annoyed, and the rattled, confused expression she received nearly made her hearts leap to her throat. “He can handle himself. But I won’t… lose you. Not again.”
The young mare’s own ears twitched. “Again?”
“Never mind.” Chrysalis stiffly shook her head and resumed course for her point of entry. “We don’t have long. Your friend, the changeling, she’s escaped and—”
“Chrysalis has escaped?!”
“Not now, Flurry Heart. There’s no time. Now, be a good girl and follow Mommy.”
She was clearly reluctant, but followed Chrysalis as she leapt up and spread her wings, gliding down through three consecutive holes in the palace’s floors, and finally landing in the atrium before the balcony. The queen grabbed hold of Flurry’s hoof again, felt a brief stab of pain between the plates of her midsection as she glimpsed the filly’s tormented eyes, and then charged with her for the exit.
The sound of a pair of double doors opening caught their attention, but while Chrysalis spared it only a fleeting, almost dismissive glance and saw a small contingent of guards, she noticed Flurry was staring. Upon a closer inspection, her stomach dropped.
Leading the group was none other than Cadance herself, and she’d already seen them.
“That’s not your mother,” Chrysalis weakly muttered, too startled to muster anything better, and continued dashing for the balcony. “That’s not your—”
But instead of the freedom of the open air, she crashed into a golden barrier of shimmering magic, so hard that she would’ve broken her neck if it had been solid. She willed herself out of a daze with a couple of blinks and another shake of the head while unsteadily scrambling to her hooves, and just as she pooled spite in her horn, ready for a battle, her vision cleared,
It wasn’t Cadance who’d erected the barrier. It was Flurry.
“No…” the queen said, tentatively taking an uneasy step toward her. “No, Flurry, it… it’s me. It’s—”
“CHRYSALIS!” Cadance roared, more fearsome than a dragon, louder than thunder itself.
Chrysalis yanked herself back at the ferocity of it, and couldn’t withdraw any further while the barrier blocked the way. She’d come so close, so very, very close, and this was how it would end – cornered like a rat in a kitchen, her ruse not unmasked through cleverness and deduction, but simple bad luck?
She wanted to be mad. She wanted to rage and explode in a giant ball of flames, large enough to incinerate the entire province as she became a leviathan from the ancient days, when monsters ruled land, sea and air. She wanted this. But she couldn’t. Because Flurry was looking her in the eyes, and had tears flowing from her own.
“Why, Chryssy?” she breathed, so frail that her mother’s hoofsteps nearly drowned her out entirely. “How… could you?”
The betrayal she wept for now tasted like tar in the queen’s mouth; even her own feelings had turned against her. Amongst the shattered remains of the atrium ceiling, shards of crystal everywhere, it seemed as if everything had fallen to pieces.
“Because…” she began, then paused as she gulped, a terrible thought crossing her mind as her gaze fell to a shard that was particularly close. And although it sickened her to think about it, she knew there was only one chance left – one desperate bid to enact what she came here to do. “Because I hate you. All of you. And that hate… is all I have left.”
Flurry merely shook her head. And it wasn’t disappointment that filled the air around her, or the blunt, tasteless void of rejection, but the bittersweet scent of pity.
Chrysalis silently prayed that it wouldn’t change anything. “An eye for an eye,” she dejectedly mumbled, leaning forward with a ragged sigh, only to reach across for the shard and lunge at the filly, then press the jagged tip against her throat as she glowered venomously at the approaching princess. “MY CHILDREN FOR YOURS!”
Everyone in the chamber froze.
Cadance went pale and, for the first time since the queen arrived, realised that fighting fire with fire would get her nowhere. She could sit on a throne, wear a crown, dress in opulent gowns too cumbersome for practical use, but true power belonged to those who seized the initiative, and Chrysalis had beaten her to it.
“I’ll do it,” she growled, eyeing the princess and each guard surrounding her, all stunned beyond belief, dread oozing from their every pore. “I’d always planned to. A little contingency, you see. If I couldn’t steal her from you, as mine were stolen from me… then I’ll just leave you as heartbroken as I was.”
Flurry whimpered and squirmed.
Chrysalis adjusted her grip to minimise the young mare’s efforts and dragged the shard lower, aimed for between her ribs. The poetry of the moment almost made up for the inelegant brutality that brought it about. Almost.
“Don’t hurt her,” Cadance requested, a few degrees shy of begging. “Please. She’s—”
“Your world? Your everything? Your precious little dove?” The queen breathlessly chuckled. “I know exactly how you feel. How… crushing it seems, to face the prospect of a life without purpose. Without someone to care for. Without someone who cares for you.” She shook her head. “My family died when your sister-in-law started preaching those virtues of hers, it just took a while for the rot to kill them. And now, if you don’t let me leave with Flurry… your daughter will be another of her victims.”
A teardrop shed from the mother’s eye, followed by a second, and without any options left to her, she shuddered in horror. There was nothing she could say, nothing she could do, no order she could give that would help, and the sheer panic that reverberated from her was like ambrosia to Chrysalis, a moment she’d waited years for.
But although she wished to relish it, to soak in every detail so that she’d never forget – the quiver of a lower lip, the drooping of wings, ears and a tail, the unbridled agony in a pair of violet eyes – something was awry. Not in Cadance or the guards that hung on her word, who were all undoubtedly paralysed, but the situation itself.
Chrysalis glanced this way and that, searching the corners, what remained of the ceiling, even the now unobstructed balcony, but didn’t see anything. And yet she knew, she knew, that something wasn’t right, that something had gone wrong, or had always been wrong.
“Well?” she demanded, shaking her head once again, and silently daring this unseen threat to stop her as she took a step rearwards. “What shall it be? Where’s your gallantry now? Who’ll stand up and be the hero?”
“Nobody.”
She looked down with wide eyes.
Flurry stared back, trembling where she lay on her side. “They can’t do anything,” she said, and every nervous breath brought her barrel dangerously close to the makeshift dagger. “You’ve won. But you don’t want to win anymore, do you?”
“Ridiculous,” Chrysalis spat. “I… am a changeling. The changeling. Queen Chrysalis: the last great villain in all of Equestria!”
“Then why haven’t you done it already?” Flurry shivered and forced herself to be brave. “You know I’ll never stop trying to escape. That’s why I had to go with you willingly. And if this is your fallback plan, if you wanted to go through with it… you wouldn’t be holding me hostage. You wouldn’t be talking so much. You wouldn’t… care.”
Ignoring her should’ve been easy – she was younger than Twilight and no less impassioned. It should’ve been. Chrysalis needed it to be. But for as much as she willed herself with all her strength to lift her foreleg and plunge it straight down… she couldn’t. Her body had frozen in place, just like the others.
“But I know you do.” Slowly and tentatively, Flurry crawled out from her grasp, then sat on the floor in front of her. “I know you don’t want to do this. I know you don’t want to lose me, Chryssy.” She raised a hoof and gently lowered the queen’s own. “And I… I don’t want to lose you either.”
Seconds, minutes, hours may as well have passed, but it all passed in the blink of an eye. All Chrysalis could remember was the sound and sensation of weeping, a tender embrace, and then being carried away to darkness and dreams.