//------------------------------//
// Chapter 4 
// Story: Holes 
// by Nestromo 
//------------------------------//

  His breath came back to him in a gasping gust, his eyes shooting open. He was on his back, resting on something soft, staring up at a dark green ceiling. It was dark where he was, and after a few moments, he noted that it was dark outside as well, starlight gently filtering in through a slotted window. A candle provided the sole artificial illumination for the room, sitting on a nightstand next to where he laid. The flame flickered as he stared at it, the halo blotting out the view of the rest of the room. How had he gotten here?
The dull pain in his side and head rekindled the memories. Attempting to move, the sound of heavy metal chains clinking taut accompanied his stilted motion. His eyes moved from the candle to the manacles binding him to the bed frame, and he gave them a couple testing pulls. The motion caused stitches of pain to ripple along his left side, eliciting a groan from deep within as he ceased to move. He had been taken prisoner because of his own idiocy. Perhaps they had all been right. He wasn't strong enough for this, and now what was going to happen to him?
Quillyn's eyes moved back to the candle's glow, a sigh escaping through his nostrils. Something beyond the candle's aura caught his attention soon afterwards, though it was difficult to focus. Two orbs, glowing green, seemed to coalesce at the far wall near the window, and began to move closer, an off-beat hoof clop accompanying them. He squinted and tried to raise his head, but found himself still too weak to move, so he simply allowed the creature to come closer. The orbs resolved themselves into eyes, glistering in the light, emerald green with black slit pupils meeting his gaze without blinking.
The dim illumination set the creature's mane to glittering as well. Bright bluish-teal hair fell in long curtains from its head, a stray strand near an oddly curved unicorn horn slipping into its face and down its front. Odd holes seemed to be torn from the waves mid-strand, only to continue on lower. A yellowish green covering, at first seeming to be something like a cloak or armor, turns out to be something more like a carapace from its withers to the top of the flank, hard and smooth, reflecting the halo of the candle. Its tail was much the same as its mane, draping to the floor. A pair of dragonfly wings, moth-bitten and ragged, were folded along the back.
Then, she spoke. "You have awoken," she said in a silken tone, though the powerful effect of her twin voices was not easily downplayed, "You nearly killed yourself in your pursuit. It has been three days, yet no other militia pursue." Her expression seemed disappointed as she drew closer, "You are different than others of the Royal Militia. You are older. You do not wear the same insignia. I feel that you are... not militia." 
Quillyn blinked, his eyes feeling as if they were filled with sand, and he attempted to speak, though nothing came out. The tall, otherworldly mare tsk'd, her horn glowing bright green as she gazed at him. She had not blinked yet, though her eyelids were apparent, made up in a shiny, attractive dark jade that complimented her features. He found all of this odd, yet he could not quite look away from her, even when the cup bumped against his lip.
The cup bumped urgently against his lip once again, sloshing some cool water down his chin and onto his neck. Coming to his senses, he looked away, attempting a hoarse thanks, and slurped at the water. He hadn't realized just how dry his mouth had been, and nearly choked upon what he managed to get down, going a bit more slowly about his drinking subsequently afterwards. Once the cup had been drained, the mare moved the cup away once more, setting it aside. "I... am not," Quillyn whispered, his voice coming in crackling spurts, "Not any more. I am a writer. Now."
This seemed to take the mare back. "A writer? ... Why did you follow our tracks? Why are you here?" she replied, incredulous. She stepped forward and leaned down, ostensibly to get a better look at him in the dim light, but she took in a deep breath, closing her eyes once she was close. After a few moments of silence, she let it out, her horn glowing briefly before she spoke, "... I see. You speak the truth. You have no reason to lie. Truthfully... very little reason for anything." Quillyn wasn't quite sure how to take that, and his confusion must have shown. She laughs lightly, revealing fangs on both top and bottom rows of sharp teeth within the oddly-squared muzzle.
"What... what will happen to me?" He croaked, looking her face over as it hovered a scant few inches away from his own. Another laugh was given in response, the wispy grey mare laying down next to his bed and smiling, though the expression was menaced with fangs. 
"That is a good question, my little adventurous colt," she said, resting one holed hoof over the other, her eyes sweeping over his body appraisingly, "It would seem that you have a fair amount of love within you. Love for your Ponyville, love for your friends, and quite a bit of love for your writing. Love for your parents as well, but that is common. Overall, you are particularly average. However..."
Quillyn shifted uncomfortably on the bed as the mare continued. His eyes focused a bit more, though without his glasses and the head injury, his vision was less than ideal. Her eyes were exceptionally large, but just as expressive as ponies despite having a rather reptilian cast. The joining of carapace to pelt was seamed, as well as the chest to neck, for reasons unknown to him. "... you have great potential. A particular resource that is untapped. You have... imagination. More so than the average pony," she said, a forked tongue flicking out to lick at her lips lightly, "This is good. Very good. We need somepony of your particular talents."
With a frown, Quillyn went to speak, but was stopped with a lightly placed hoof upon his lips, "Shhh. Rest. Please. You need to save your energy, now that we have something in mind for you. It is a start." 
Once the hoof was removed and she stood, Quillyn pursued his questioning with the foremost issue on his mind, "... who are you?" 
The mare smiled brightly, fangs glinting in the candlelight, "I am Queen Chrysalis, of the Changelings. Rest now. We will speak again soon." Just as he was beginning to form his next question, Chrysalis faded into the shadows, moving away from the warm glow of the candle and towards the window. He could just barely make out the slight luminescence from her eyes before they winked out of sight, leaving him alone once more.

----

Sleep came easily, but rest did not. His mind raced, though it was bogged down by the dull pain in his head and side, occasionally flaring to life with a red-hot searing.  He was captive, to be sure. This Queen Chrysalis had not said as much, but the fact that he was manacled to the bed spoke volumes. He wasn't going anywhere any time soon. So, Quillyn's mind started going over the facts that he had already gathered, turning them over and over as he attempted to decipher them.
The queen's features had been hard to process when she had been so close, but now that her bewitching presence had gone, he was able to better remember her. Her eyes, slit as they were, were rather larger than any other pony's that he'd seen. The rest of her proportioning was unnaturally lithe, long legs that had her standing as tall as Princess Celestia herself, along with a slim, craning neck. Even her hindquarters shaved down to a point, it seemed, his mind's eye calling up the images between the flashes of ache. The horn and crown adorning her head, the ears that never quite perked up from an aggressive stance, the squared snout and muzzle, the fangs, the great chasms seemingly drilled through both bits of hair and body itself. It all was so alien.
It was far too early for Quillyn to make any particular judgement. It was obvious that they were not going to harm him, not right off. The one that had led him into the trap, or rather let him run into the wall on his own, had seemed fearsome enough once the guise was dropped. But yet... he shook his head, scowling groggily up at the green marbled ceiling. These were changelings. The stuff of nightmares. He had been taken captive by their queen, and she had said that they had designs for him herself.
Despite laying awake for most of the time, or at least as far as he could tell, Quillyn never noticed anypony refilling the water cup on the nightstand, or refreshing the candle after every morning. Both of these had been done every time that he checked them. His manacles had also loosened over time so that he could sit up and reach the cup with his hooves. The water was always cool trickling down his throat, the candle wick just perfectly singed to light easily. The short taper to light the candle smoldered in the mornings and evenings, all through the night should he need it, but never seemed to burn down past a point, always being replaced with a fresh one in the day.
All of this boggled the mind. Once he had noticed this occurring, Quillyn purposefully stayed awake for as long as he could in the morning, staring at the items on the nightstand. The sun had crawled into the sky beyond the slotted window long before he allowed himself sleep, finally confident that he had simply been imagining the occurrences. A languid blink later, perhaps a moment's dozing, and his eyes shot open once more to behold the freshened cup, candle, and taper, with nopony in evidence to blame. It was maddeningly agitating to him.
On the third day of his waking, the queen returned in the evening, as the sun began to set, casting a brilliant purple across the sky beyond his window. She had stepped from the shadows that had grown in the corner of the room, just as he lit the candle. With a clanking of chain, he started at the sight of her eyes once again, his heart jumping in his chest for the moment that he did not realize what was happening. Loosing a breath, Quillyn took up the cup and drank long from it to loosen up his voice as she approached.
The off-kilter sound of her holed hooves echoed through the room, the grey brick pavers telegraphing the sound easily. He could see her a bit better now, the violet sky reflecting off of the glossy carapace upon her back. The queen seemed to notice his eyes studying her, her wings giving a little buzzing flutter when she grinned at him, the expression not entirely malevolent, though not comforting either. "I imagine you have questions," she said lightly, a teasing tone in her twin voice, "I have given you plenty of time to mull them over. I have thought about what to do with you, as well."
At that, Quillyn couldn't help but blink in surprise. The questions that he had stored up were dashed away in an instant, warring for dominance with the burning issue of what was to happen to him. Her grin melted to a self-satisfied smile, sharp canines still evident. "You will be free to roam the manse. You will see what we do here. Everything. Nothing will be hidden," she spoke, moving alongside his bed and lying on her front, "You will record everything. You will report everything. We will be known for what we are, and what we want." Anxiousness welled up inside of him at these words. It was far too easy.
She seemed to feed off of his emotions as soon as he experienced them. The queen laughed quietly, lifting a frail-looking hoof and tapping his foreleg, "In return, nothing will be hidden from me. The water you drink has seen to that. I have... blessed it, with particular qualities that are valuable to me. It nourishes you as no other water could. It heals you faster than any salves could. It tells me everything that you do, how healthy you are, what you feel, what you think." Quillyn felt something akin to violation at all of this, but curiosity prowled in the undertones, eventually winning out as he stared at her smug features.
"Why?" he asked finally, furrowing his brow, "Why make such a gamble? I know little. I... I have no one except for my friends and my parents, you saw that yourself, most likely. I'm just a writer, a columnist for the local newspaper. I have little say in what people do, I'm in no position of command or respect." 
Chrysalis moved her hoof away from his leg and rested it over her other, but she looked no less pleased with herself. "I know," she replied, her smile never wavering, "That is what makes you perfect. No one will miss you, not really, until you have completed your charge here and you return to Ponyville. From there, your story will spread to Equestria. We will be known. Our cause will be soldiered, and love for our struggles will grow."
There is that word again. Love. "You speak of love as if it is a quantifiable substance," Quillyn shot back, "As if emotions could be harvested like wheat. It's all convoluted, emotions. It isn't a literal thing, nor is it tangible!" At that, she laughed more heartily, resting her hoof on his chest. He could feel warmth, his own, seeming to focus upon that spot, leaving the rest of his body cool. Blanching uncomfortably, his eyes flicked from hers to the hoof on his chest, a soft red glow mingling with the green swirling around her leg, the red energy drawing up like a siphon. It was a sudden thing, but without fanfare; he felt less passionate about everything, more complacent, more willing to see both sides of situations, no matter how embittered he may be. That was the best way he could describe it to himself as it was happening.
All through this, the queen simply smiled, and if anything, seemed more at ease herself. She pulled away slowly, the energy clinging like threads to each other before finally breaking easily, the flow of both languidly retreating to their respective bodies. The warmth returned to his limbs, and Quillyn realized that he had not been breathing during the event. With a hard swallow, he looked back to her. She seemed to be... sated, would be the closest wording for it. A pleasant smile had replaced the edged one, and her eyes were less piercing. "Everything is quantifiable, as you call it," she said quietly, her hoof back to resting over the other, "We are all alive with magic, with essence, with emotion. Different beings crave different things. You are different than most other ponies. Then again, most are different from others.
"However... I know your name, and I know your lineage, Mio Aggraziato Presagio Di Compassione. You may be mundane on the surface, but within you runs the blood and soul of something much greater," she said, smiling sincerely. It was an unnatural position that Quillyn found himself in. She knew his birth name, that is true, but whatever greatness she spoke of was completely unknown to him. 
"... I'm the only son of two earth ponies. I'm not entirely sure where you're getting all of that, but it sounds like something out of one of my stories," he replied, shifting on the bed with the rattling of chains, "But I do know that I am being held captive here. I'm not a greatly accomplished writer, I'm barely known outside of Ponyville, and even then, only a few ponies know me."
Queen Chrysalis smiled at that, the edge returning, though the previous glow remained. "Do not worry about such things. You will see in time, and you will prevail in my requests," she said, her voice dropping a bit more than it had already, "For the love you bear for your land is strong, but the love that you will yet know is far stronger. We changelings love little, as we cannot afford to give up what sustenance we can garner. You will change things for us. But you need to rest just a few days more."
As she stood, the manacles binding his legs unlocked, clattering to the stone floor. Quillyn rubbed at his ankles, careful to not move overly much due to the pain that was still very much real in his side. "A bath will be drawn for you. Simply step outside, and the servants will take you there. I find that nothing soothes pain quite like it," the queen said as she moved towards the door, the portal opening from the outside, "You are my guest now. Not my prisoner. Make yourself comfortable." With that, she stepped out through the door, lank blue tail trailing behind her.
Despite what she said, Quillyn hadn't felt any more comfortable than he did before. He had seen his... essence, for lack of a better word, pulled from his chest with ease, and she seemed to thrive upon it. The gloom of the room had fallen again, though with what he had seen, he hardly felt alone. Though he was sure he was imagining it, he felt eyes upon him now, from all of the corners of the tall room, in all of the shadows along the walls. He slid towards the edge of the low bed and gingerly set his hooves down, testing his weight before lofting himself, a twist of pain in his left side still evident. Finding his pack just below the nightstand, he looked through it cursorily, finding everything in its place, along with his fatigues, which were folded neatly in the bottom of it.
Just outside of his door stood two 'servants', as Chrysalis had called them. One, he recognized almost immediately, though the other also seemed familiar. The 'filly' that had lured him to this place stood outside, dark blue mane flowing down from her head. He saw that she now looked much closer to his age, but she grinned that same impish little smile. The other seemed a rather dour sort of changeling, though Quillyn immediately noticed it was rather difficult to tell genders with changelings in their natural form. This one just looked him over with slight disdain, a frown curving on the features.
"Good to see that little impact didn't break too many of the handsome bones in your face," the mare spoke after he closed the door to the room, "You almost killed yourself just trying to get your silly little clothes back." She had begun grinning even more mischievously then, Quillyn quirking a brow and flicking his eyes from her to the other guard. 
"Why have you adopted that... look?" he replied, ignoring her jibe, "That is obviously not your true face." 
She made a nasty little face at him, sticking her tongue out for a moment, "You'd rather us all look like aliens to you then, so you can judge us all by the same methods? I'll not make it so easy.
"I am Korvina, Queen Chrysalis' spymaster. I do pretty much what you would expect from somepony in my position. I'll be watching you closely, just in case you need... assistance," she said, notably without the twin voice that the queen had. It must be some sort of special thing for their royalty, he thought, just as the royal tone was with Princess Luna. 
"Assistance," he replied flatly, adjusting his glasses with his hoof, "Well, Korvina, your queen has deemed that I should bathe. Will you be watching me closely then?" The unmasked changeling's head tilted slightly, a sort of glow upon its eye seeming to move like an iris upon a normal eye as it looked him over.
"Of course I will," the spymaster quipped with a snarky little smirk, "From every angle possible. I always find it fascinating how ponies wash, and how different everything can be. It improves my own craft." She winked with that and turned, marching at a brisk pace down the hallway, though the bounce in her gait was undeniable. Quillyn found himself grimacing, though he was soon prodded along the same path by the other changeling, whom motions for him to move with haste. He found the idea of being watched by some pony that had practically smashed his face into a brick wall was unnerving at best, but the fact that it was helping to aid her in her cloak-and-dagger pursuits was more troubling.
The corridor was constructed out of much of the same medium grey stone masonry as the walls and flooring of his room had been, though the roofing seemed to shift and change color far above his head, moving from deep blues to vibrant greens and yellows to crisp reds and violets. It was never a jarring change, and seemed to occur before he noticed it was transitioning. Trying to catch the change as he walked, Quillyn proceeded to run into Korvina's side at a fair clip. "Oof!" she grunted, stumbling a couple of steps before regaining herself, Quillyn taking a moment longer to regain his balance, glasses knocked askew. He blinked and blushed, flashing her a sheepish smile, though she just shook her head and opened the door to the bathing room, motioning with her head for him to enter.
Spicy scents and the musky smells of incense immediately wafted from the room, causing Quillyn to hesitate for a moment. "Go on," Korvina prompted as he pushed his glasses back up, the lenses becoming fogged almost immediately from the mist roiling from the room, "It's a bath. Ponies bathe, right?" Flustered, he eyed the mare before he stepped inside. The door closed immediately afterwards, and he found himself alone in the large bathing chamber, steam making his eyeglasses useless.
Slipping them off and setting them on a table near the door, the smells nearly threatened to overwhelm him. Perfumes and the like often made Quillyn's nose itch terribly; these were no different. The mist made it difficult to see the ceiling, a large, looming dark mass above, light provided by crackling, incensed torches arrayed around the room in sconces. The bath itself dominated the chamber, reaching from wall to wall in width, and was really more of a small pool than a bath, at least to Quillyn. Stepping up to the edge, he remembered Korvina's words, though he didn't stall for long. So what if she watched him? He couldn't see how, but these creatures were beyond his comprehension at this point.
The water was oiled, spiced, and scented strongly as well, but the temperature was absolutely perfect for Quillyn's tastes. Sliding in easily, he let out a pleased sigh, the aches in his body wicking away, as well as the strains of the mind. He rarely took baths, as it were, preferring quick showers to the languid practice of bathing, but on particularly hard days a bath was like nothing else. Perhaps the queen had been right about this bath idea.
There was one thing that had occurred to him, but never particularly manifested in his thoughts until that point. The castle was nearly silent in the areas that he had been in so far. Even in the large bath chamber, where sounds echoed easily off of the walls, it was only his movements in the water and the crackling of the torches that he could hear. Castles are almost always noisy places, ponies scuttling everywhere to get the day's duties done. But here, there was nothing but silence and the occasional buzz of gossamer wings as a changeling departed or arrived. It was both comforting and eerie, he understood just how alien these creatures were to him, yet similar in jarring ways.
Scented oils soaked into his pelt while Quillyn relaxed in the bath. It was big enough to need to swim from one end to the other, or awkwardly trot, though he never felt the need to move from his spot. There was something about a good, warm bath with enough space to move that was so deliciously luxurious. However, even in such a comfortable room, he felt the need to finish his business and not keep his captors waiting. Rooting around a bit and smelling more than seeing soaps and shampoos, he proceeded to scrub up, cleansing a half-week's worth of soiling, blood, and road dirt from his body.
A quick brush of the teeth with his toothbrush at a sink conveniently placed in the corner, and he was ready, if a bit inundated with all of the cloyingly sweet smoke and spices. As soon as Quillyn had stepped towards the door, it swung open, revealing the impish spymaster just outside. "Good to see that you enjoyed the bath," she cracked, holding up an oddly non-holed (compared to the others) leg in gesture, "The Queen would have you in the dining room now that you are prepared." He should have known that there was a catch to the bath, though it was not as if he had anything else better to do, so he moved on without question, the scent of the bath clinging to him irrepressibly.
Though he would have liked to have had some sort of formal dress for the event, Quillyn didn't have anything of the sort, and nothing beyond the bath had been provided for him. Then again, did changelings eat in the same manner that ponies did? From what he had seen and heard so far, which was admittedly little, it would seem that they gained sustenance from abstract concepts given form. Though, as he thought about it, the presence of a dining room would be utterly ridiculous if all they did was feed on such things...
... Unless it was some sort of mass torture chamber. A huge room devoted to nothing but the horrific draining of ponies, their hopes and dreams being sucked away with utter ruthlessness and devoured before their eyes. Admittedly, it had not been a particularly painful experience when the queen had shown him such things, but it was not what he would consider pleasant either. It was difficult to place it,  to put a name to the sensation, though the memory remained, despite how muddied it had become over the short time. Perhaps an hour had passed, but Quillyn could barely remember being in any sort of discomfort at all, excepting the ache of his injuries.
Daydreaming once again, Quillyn nearly stumbled down the stairs while Korvina led the way, oblivious to their appearance. Pulling himself forcefully from his wild delusions, he wriggled his nose in an attempt to push his glasses back up onto his face, though the action simply resulted in the frames sliding further down. Not wanting to stall Korvina in her spirited, steady pace, or get speared in the rump by the guard that moved resolutely behind him, he jerked his head up a few times, managing to partially slide the glasses back up, though they sat slightly askew.
With an agitated sigh, Quillyn decided to just wait until they came to a stop in spite of becoming more aggravated with looking through the uneven lenses. He needn't wait long, as the long, nigh featureless corridor soon opened out into a dim, brazier-lit chamber, somber in mood. Korvina had stopped, insect-like wings appearing on her back in an instant where none had been before, the gossamer buzzing almost inaudibly in short, timed bursts. After moving up beside her, a startling scene filled out in front of him that had been blocked from view.
A long wooden table stretched down the center of the chamber, with simple, dark green pillows laid evenly on either side for seating. The table had simple grey stone platters placed evenly as well, covered serving dishes placed every four positions in the center of the table. At the far end of the chamber stood a dais and an arrangement of brightly colored pillows, starkly contrasting the rest of the room's arrangements. However, the most striking aspect of the room was the inhabitants.
Standing beside each placement was a changeling, each at a uniform distance from the table and between each other, facing the entrance at which Quillyn was standing. Motionless and saying nothing, the chamber was still alive with the buzzing of wings, once he began listening for it. The noise was faint, but there, a chorus that rose and fell nearly like conversation would in such a place with ponies. However, the familiar sound of the queen's hooves upon the dais silenced even that quiet communication.
The changelings turned as one, hooves clopping uniformly against the floor. With a bow of their heads down to the stone pavers, they rose as one after a deferential moment and moved to their assigned pillows, sitting fluidly. The room remained silent for a long, uncomfortable moment, Queen Chrysalis gazing at him from across the room. A sudden pop from one of the braziers caused him to flinch, twitching in discomfort. In spite of the distance, he could feel her eyes upon him, and see the slight smile, not unlike Korvina's own impish grin.
"This is our guest, my children," she spoke, her voice carrying through the chamber with a palpable sense of power and poise, "We will treat him as such. So. We will use our voices to speak tonight." The uniformity broke in places, he saw, a few of the changelings exchanging raised brows over their iris-less eyes. The queen continued on unabated, seeming to not notice or heed the break, "Speak freely. Answer his questions to the best of your abilities. Enjoy the feast."
With her last words, the serving dishes were uncovered, silvered metal covers reflecting the reddish gleaming of the braziers. Obscured by steam for the first few moments, the food underneath seemed as alien as his captors for an instant. It only took that instant for Quillyn to realize what it was, his previously grumbling stomach turning to cramping in disgust. Roast suckling pig, an apple stuck in its mouth, laying upon a bed of lettuce. Spitted chicken with caramelized onions and peppers. A lamb and goat stew in a thick, savory broth, with a honey dipping sauce set in a separate bowl.
The changelings set to with gusto, hefting blades with their mouths and slicing off chunks to set upon their plates. Stew was ladled into bowls, bits of the meat occasionally picked out to dip gingerly into small serving bowls of the honey and gladly popped into waiting mouths.  A salad or two was in evidence, sprinkled with chicken and peppers. The sights and smells were nearly too much for Quillyn. Ponies do not eat meat, and being somewhat sensitive to scents, Quillyn's stomach rebelled. Korvina looked over to him, quirking a brow, though the smile upon her lips that exposed the sharp canines hinted that she knew exactly what was bothering him.
"This is something you will simply have to adjust to," she said simply before descending down to the table, a seat near the head left empty for her. The unmasked guard also seemed to smirk as it went by, sitting near Korvina. Head swimming from the rush of the alien sensations, Quillyn leaned against the wall to catch his breath, attempting to will his gullet into submission. Though he had not eaten anything for days, the water he had been given had quenched his nutritional needs. He somehow doubted that he would be receiving much of it in quantity now that he was able to move on his own. Ponies are not carnivores... but he had to find something to sate his hunger.
The salads soon attracted his attention, and Quillyn willed himself to concentrate on this. A few of the changelings had begun to converse with each other, but their words were hushed and often lost amidst the other noises in the chamber. The pony took in a breath, letting it out slowly through his nose, and moved down the small flight of stairs to the dining room proper. The occasional word could be picked out amongst the din, though never enough to piece together a conversation. Their voices all seemed normal to him. Had he closed his eyes, he would have thought he was walking through the cafeteria of a school, or perhaps an office, rather than down the outer aisle of a foreboding castle chamber. 
A green and red salad, thankfully devoid of any meat, sat ready for him at the empty spot directly to the side of the queen. She had watched him the entire time, it seemed, as he made his way towards the head of the table. The occasional changeling hesitated while eating, watching him pass, though they soon after continued as if he'd not even been there. Quillyn's eyes passed over a few of them, and while at a distance they all looked identical, it was upon closer inspection that he noticed subtle differences. Hardened, spired horns upon their bodies were in different places than the others, some shorter where others were more substantial. Some looked nearly normal in his eyes, except for the holes in their legs, the gossamer wings, and not to forget the iris-less green eyes.
Each had their own voice as well, as hushed as they were. Some were distinctly female, while the others penetratingly deep, though the range was anything between, the distinction blurred here and there. There was even a laugh here and there that echoed through the chamber, lightening the mood, which in turn helped to bring Quillyn out of the haze he had sunk into without realizing. The pillow assigned to him at one step below the queen upon the dais was luxurious silk, dyed a bright yellow. Queen Chrysalis had a neatly arranged plate of all the offerings upon the table, but it appeared untouched. She looked to him as he sat, her smile growing ever so slightly, green slitted eyes boring into him unflinchingly.
"Your... cuisine is... interesting," Quillyn broached, offering an unsteady smile to her, "Though I thank you for the consideration of my own tastes." 
As he motioned to the salad, the queen laughed cheerfully, reaching and rubbing his shoulder with her hoof, "As I said before, different creatures of Equestria crave different things. Perhaps your tastes will become more accustomed to our 'cuisine', as you call it." For a moment, she looked distant, as if she was thinking of something other than the conversation, though her eyes soon refocused upon him, the smile reasserting itself.
"This is mere sustenance for us. It has taste, and fuels us, but... we cannot truly grow or prosper without love. It is something that we do not generate, just as your body does not generate vitamins or nourishment on its own," she continued, a few of the nearest changelings turning to look somewhat apprehensively upon him, "In order to thrive, we must harvest what you think of as abstract concepts much as one of your kind would... milk a cow, perhaps. Or reap wheat from the fields. Draw water from the wells. You ponies do still perform those duties, do you not?"
The smell of the meat was starting to become less intrusive as Quillyn grew used to it, and he could concentrate upon the question posed after a moment of hesitation. "Well, yes... after a fashion. Much of it is mechanized, as I'm sure you saw during..." he started, trailing off as he broached a subject that may be rather prickly considering the company, "... well, during your studies." The changelings near him, whom had larger horns and some jade adornments here and there that he took for symbols of rank, grumbled unintelligibly and glowered, though the queen who had perpetrated the invasion simply continued to smile.
"Of course. Though Canterlot did not have many of the more... simple professions at work, having all of its raw materials shipped in. There isn't much of a place to farm and mill on the side of that mountain, after all," Queen Chrysalis replied, "So I know little of how things are done in the low country. Perhaps you will aid me in that as well." Her smile grew, revealing the four sharpened fangs that overlapped the pointed teeth behind, perfectly white. Quillyn found her smile both jarring and somehow pleasant. She at least felt comfortable enough to smile so earnestly, but then again, why would she not? She had him exactly where she wanted him; at her mercy.
The rest of the meal went on normally, or as normal as things could be to him at the moment. Quillyn found the entire experience quite disconcerting; the similarities between the changelings and ponies were more jarring than comforting, and the culture shock had his senses reeling. He finished his salad, just. The rest of the conversation that he shared with the queen seemed mundane, and they had traded questions back and forth. Nothing that caused any revelations, they were just simple curiosities.
The fact that all changelings seemed to have both horns and wings, as odd as they were, was surprising to Quillyn, and he had inquired on this. The queen, after answering that it was simply the way of equality and necessary for their abilities both, asked after his parents. There was little to tell, both were earth ponies of mundane origins, and had loved him very much. He had a good upbringing, he felt, if simple. This seemed to amuse her, though she said little else. He had chosen not to pursue any more conversation, opting instead to listen to the hum of conversation in the dining hall.
Korvina and the still unnamed changeling escorted him back to his room afterwards, which had been outfitted to be a bit more comfortable in his absence. A wardrobe of dark, red wood had been placed on the opposite wall from his bed, the sheets changed, and a few other niceties were provided, though it was still just as dark as before. The spymaster noted that she would be nearby should he need anything, though he doubted that he would go wanting that night. He was surprisingly worn out from the short venture, which he attributed to the recovery from his injuries.
With a stitch of pain flaring in his side, Quillyn went over to the slotted window to look out over the Everfree Forest. It stretched as far as he could see, a distant mountain range indigo against the moonlit horizon. Stars twinkled above it all, bathing the forest in dim white light. The lake reflected the stars and moon placidly, barely a ripple upon its surface. Though the ring of the din within the chamber still buzzed in his ears, the castle had fallen silent once more, excepting the occasional hum of wings as changelings arrived and departed, or perhaps conversed with each other.
The pain began to burn constantly within him, and he turned carefully, favoring his left side with a hobbling gait while he made his way to the bed. Peeling back the satin bedclothes, Quillyn slid himself inside gingerly, staring at the near wall. It was featureless grey stone bricks, semi-polished and expertly laid, just as the rest of the castle had been. He found himself wondering how long they had been here, and how this place had not been discovered before. There had to be some sort of enchantment at work, he imagined. Wary of his tender side, he twisted and snuffed the candle on the nightstand, darkness sweeping into the room.
A few more moments, and he found himself gliding to sleep easily. His dreams came quickly and steadily, seeming lucid at the time, though he knew he would be hard-pressed in the morning to remember them, as usual. Quillyn's imagination had always been vivid, and he enjoyed those times that he did recall his dreams, as rare as it was. The stallion laid upon the bed, sleeping soundly in the silence of the castle.
Two green, slitted eyes appeared in the corner of the room, glowing like embers in the darkness, gazing down upon Quillyn as he slept. Her lips curled into a grin, wicked fangs flashing in the starlight.