“How many times is it now, Celestia?” That taunting voice was laced with pain, and a low, gurgling wheeze accompanied every labored breath the Changeling took. “Ten? Thirty? When will you learn how pointless this exercise is?”
Princess Celestia snarled and lunged forward, whirled with the grace of a dancer, and delivered a powerful kick to the Changeling’s side. Something crunched horribly and the bug flew across the room, striking a pillar with a dull thud. As it slid down, a pale streak of green ichor stained the ancient marble.
“What does this bring you, Celestia?” the Changeling gasped, rising defiantly onto three shaky legs, its shredded wings splayed out agressively. “Does this violence bring you joy? Does my pain bring you happiness?”
“You assaulted my little ponies,” Celestia bellowed. “You used the stallion that belonged to my niece, the love that belonged to my niece, and you corrupted it! Turned it against me!”
The Changeling managed a broken, wet chuckle. “So it is revenge, then, Celestia? Retribution?” The Changeling coughed violently, more of that green ichor spraying from its foul mouth onto the tiled floor. “What’s done is done, Celestia. You know as well as I do that I may not die in the same way your other monsters do. So why continue this?”
Celestia growled again, a primal, shimmering sound, and sent forth a lance of pre sunlight. The Changeling screamed again, raw and wet and visceral. When the smoke cleared, it quivered in a tiny ball, both wings now singed stubs of their former irredescent glory. Chunks of exoskeleton lay steaming on the ground around it, exposing charred, goey flesh to the elements.
Celestia walked forwards slowly, her wings spread wide, an avenging angel. She looked into the terrified green eyes of her shivering, broken enemy, looked into them without mercy or compassion. “You took the place of one dear to me and used my love for her to blind me, to ensorcel my subjects. You laid me low before my very court with a perversion of love and harmony. And now you seek me out, and you dare to talk to me about revenge?” she spat. “This is not revenge, this is not validation. This is justice.”
The Changeling’s eyes widened, it struggled to a sitting position, keening and chattering its fangs in agony. “I-If this … is your idea of … justice, then I fear for your subjects... and their safety,” the Changeling gasped.
Rage flared hot and red in Celestia’s eyes, and she struck a killing blow, calling down sunstuff onto the dying Changeling until nothing remained but ashes. She spat on the dusty pile and stalked away, out into the courtyard, out into the night. She breathed the fresh night air, free of deception or hate or that creature’s filth, and finally took wing, flying to escape the Changeling’s final words, the last echoes of the conversation that wormed into her head.
And miles away, deep inside the Everfree forest, the Queen of the Changelings awoke screaming. She looked long and hard at her new body, her new hooves, and tried to stop their shaking. Just as she had the time before that, and the time before that, and the time before that....