Chrysalis stared out over the desolate badlands, taking in what few sights there were to enjoy in such a place. The earth beneath her hooves was a shattered mess of grey-black stone, withered trees, jagged hills, and distant mountains scraped bare of life. Little grew, and nothing thrived, with only lichen and the most hardy of trees existing in this foul place.
Then she blinked, and her mind seemed to catch up with what she was actually seeing.
The desolate badlands were gone, replaced by a land commonly referred to as the changeling plains. Though no actual changelings called it home, it had once been where Chrysalis had constructed a great hive. The towering spires and grand halls that had made up her ancient base of operations were long gone, consumed by the greenery that had sprung up in Chrysalis’ absence.
Greenery that now covered nearly everything, returning the wide badlands into verdant plains spotted with the occasional knot of trees or small creek. Water which had been diverted in order to power great machines flowed once more without her presence, slowly giving life to this shattered land. It had only been five short decades at this point but already the first species were returning to what once been their ancestral home.
Insects buzzed here and there, birds dotted the sky, and small rodents zipped about the low vegetation. In time Chrysalis knew the larger creatures would return, the grazers, the vultures, the predators. When that finally happened the plains would once more sport a complete ecosystem untainted by her now abandoned, machiavellian dreams.
“Your majesty, um your majesty,” offered a small, timid voice.
“Hmm, what is it?” Chrysalis murmured.
“You asked me to warn you when we had to return to Equestria,” the voice added.
Chrysalis blinked and looked back to where the short changeling assistant waited, clipboard floating before her. Though at first glance she looked like any other changeling, save for the fact that she was wearing clothes, that notion quickly broke down under scrutiny. The usually black chitin had a small but noticeable teal sheen to it and her eyes weren't the usual dull pupiless blue of most drones. She also lacked any of the usual holes, her horn was less bent, and an off-green spiral went from its base all the way up to its tip.
“Cracked Carapace the third, right?” Chrysalis asked.
“Err yes. Are you feeling alright your majesty? I’ve been with you all day,” offered the drone.
“No, it's nothing. Just distracted,” Chrysalis muttered absently. “You may prepare the plane. I will only be a moment longer.”
“Pardon me for my impudence your majesty but what may I ask is on your mind?” Pressed the other changeling.
Chrysalis chuckled.
“You know, your grandmother never would have been so bold as to ask such a thing,” Chrysalis pointed out.
“Yes, well. I take more after my grandfather anyway,” stated the drone.
“Yes,” Chrysalis began, her gaze lingering on the other changeling’s more ponylike features. “That you do.”
“Are you perhaps perturbed at me for something?” Cracked Carapace pressed.
“No, nothing of the sort,” Chrysalis dismissed. “Coming out here has merely stirred old thoughts I had long considered burried.”
“Such as?” Cracked Carapace continued.
Chrysalis hummed absently to herself, gaze turning back to what had once been the badlands.
“It is beautiful, is it not?” Chrysalis asked, gesturing forward.
Cracked Carapace followed the other changeling’s hoof and nodded in agreement.
“It is amazing that it has recovered so much in so little time. I heard stories of this place being a wasteland,” Cracked Carapace declared.
“A wasteland of my making,” Chrysalis admitted. “I harvested every resource, exploited every bit of nature's bounty, and burnt what was not useful out of spite.”
Cracked Carapace frowned deeply.
“You are disappointed,” Chrysalis remarked. “Good, I am too.”
“Then why do it?” Cracked Carapace asked.
“Because at the time I thought it was necessary for our survival. Now I see that was a silly assumption to make. I’m just glad that I came to my senses before my failures became too numerous,” Chrysalis murmured.
“Then why return here? I assumed there would be nothing but bad memories waiting for you,” Cracked Carapace reasoned.
“Not all, not all memories are quite so dark,” Chrysalis answered. “But to answer your question, I came back here to reminisce and remind myself of where we were before we joined with the ponies.”
Cracked Carapace held her tongue, the drone certain her queen was leaving something unspoken.
“This place, and what I did here is a dark chapter of our history but not one I seem able to truly turn the page on,” Chrysalis continued. “If I could claim the land, build something here, even something as simple as a summer home I would feel better. But so many nations have some manner of historical claim on this place that Celestia has described it as quote: A tangled mess of treaties so convoluted it would take centuries to straighten.”
“I think I understand what you mean,” Cracked Carapace reasoned. “About the treaties, not why building something would change something.”
“I admit I am not as eloquent or as put together at the moment as I would like,” Chrysalis remarked. “Thinking back to the time before my little five-second gambit feels like a lifetime ago. Like that was a different age, one of strife and failure.”
“The loveless years,” Cracked Carapace added.
“So that is what they are calling it,” Chrysalis muttered, the changeling snorting derisively. “Fitting, if a bit insulting.”
“Should I tell the pilot to wait?” Cracked Carapace pressed.
“No,” Chrysalis replied immediately. “I am done stewing in my past mistakes and wish to return home, to the embrace of my darling wife so that I may indulge in her sickening sweet love and forget any of this ever happened.”
“You, my queen. Are whipped,” Cracked Carapace remarked.
“You know there was a time I would have had you whipped for such a comment,” Chrysalis retorted.
“Are you going to?” Cracked Carapace countered, unfazed.
“No,” Chrysalis remarked with a shrug. “Maybe I am the one who should be whipped.”
“I will inform your assistant to prep the sex dungeon,” Cracked Carapace declared.
“What?” Chrysalis shouted, face suddenly beat red. “I was being melodramatic, not… that.”
“Shall I tell him to stay on stand-by then?” Cracked Carapace pressed, shooting her queen a small, teasing smirk.
“I… er, I’ll think about it,” Chrysalis muttered. “For now, we return to Equestria. There is still much to do.”