//------------------------------// // epilogue // Story: Changeling Heart and the New Moon // by ambion //------------------------------// It could very well have been the largest tree in the world. Or once it might have been, but storms, blights and greatest yet time itself had ravaged its every inch. Bark to heartwood, roots to canopy. Branches that had made the earth tremble with their falling had rotted back into the soil generations ago, leaving the trunk to be a lone monolith, a spear plunged into the heart of this oozing land. It was the destination of the brothers Wax and Wane. Four months ago their fairest dark mistress, the alicorn princess Luna had come here, home of the changelings, vanishing from Canterlot in the peace and stillness of night. Events had been set in motion that none could have foreseen, not Celestia, not Chrysalis, not even Luna herself knew fully what she did or where it would lead. High above the gray, spongy trees they flew in silence. Wane, a lost changeling through and through, felt no small discomfort at coming back. That was the life he had been born into; small fangs and black chitin, but that was not who he was. Not anymore. Wax, brother of his heart flew alongside him, saying nothing, understanding everything. Black speckles rose up from the distance, tree and forest alike, rising like flecks of ash. The soft droning of papery wings brushed against the silence. The changelings, silent, watchful, rose and surrounded them by twos and threes, but made no move to impede the brothers. If anything, they guided them down, down into the damp and the dark. They had their task and, somewhere ahead, the Queen waited. Hooves touched off marble. Escorted by two guards, the small gray pegasus nevertheless strode ahead of the armoured ponies. She turned to admire the stained glass windows, one in particular which Chrysalis had smashed to her unending satisfaction. The repair was perhaps flawless, but Chrysalis could imagine that somepony had botched the job ever so slightly, putting an uncomfortable looking kink in Shining Armor’s neck. She smirked and looked at it no more. Doors that swung with perfect balance opened before her. The guards did not follow. They closed the doors, and Chrysalis was alone, save one other. “I didn’t keep you waiting long, did I?” she asked coyly. Celestia, seated at an ornate table, was the idyllic image of patience and peace. “Not at all, Chrysalis.” The gray pegasus stretched out in egotistical relaxation, catlike, as she let the illusion dispel. Green embers wafted across the room, winking out just short of Celestia. “What a shame,” said Chrysalis, Queen of the changelings. The curtains were drawn, the door locked. If there was magic at work here, Chrysalis could not detect it. “And how’s the good captain doing?” “Better. He needed a minor operation for his jaw.” Celestia sipped at a steaming cup. “But you would know all about that.” The Queen remembered that fondly. She moved about, looking at this and that as if she were a prospective real estate buyer. Chrysalis shrugged dismissively. Messing with Shining was pleasure, not business, and the Queen wanted to know what the alicorn had asked her here for. Since the night of...whatever that night had been, the Queen had been plagued by a unshakeable sense of incompletion. There was yet to be, if not a resolution, than a direction. Something, anything between herself and these alicorn sisters. No guards though, no one to watch for what might happen here... An interesting choice on Celestia’s part. Chrysalis towered over the seated alicorn, but there was no intimidation to be seen in the princess. If anything, she looked just a little bored, tolerating the Queen’s presence and little ploys with near flawless form and social graces. “What happens if I just walk out of here?” asked Chrysalis. “The guards subdue you and drag you off to the dungeon. They’re not particularly happy with your behaviour the last time you visited. The few that know are sworn to absolute secrecy about it.” Chrysalis was having fun, despite herself. “And if just you are seen walking out of here?” She lowered her head, her horn nearly touching Celestia's: crossed swords. The alicorn sighed, the patient, if presently tired teacher that she was. “In that case, they’ll subdue me and drag me off to the dungeon.” Chrysalis pouted and stepped back, her shoulders relaxing. So much for that plan. Then she smiled, her fangs creeping down her lips. “So we leave together, or fight pointlessly. It’s almost like you’re trying to tell me something,” she said with venomous sweetness. Celestia nodded to the chair opposite her. “Will you sit, Chrysalis?” She didn’t, not right away. Glancing suspiciously at the white alicorn, the Queen shuffled into the seat. Made for the alicorns, it was the first time such a thing had felt roughly the right size for her. It was a strange feeling, one she quite liked “Chrysalis,” said Celestia, when the novelty of the chair had worn off. Her eyes were focused, piercing. They took Chrysalis back to that night, those very same eyes. Then they softened by degrees. “Chrysalis... “Every time I see Luna smile, every time she laughs...I’m a little closer to being ready to forgive you.” “How is she?” The usual snark was gone. Somewhere along the way, Chrysalis had started caring. Not liking, no, the darker alicorn was too frustrating for that. But she could care. “Is she here?” Celestia shook her head. “She decided it was a fine time to surprise a group of orphan foals with a visit.” Her wings loosened from their usual collected poise. “Luna thought that might mean something to you. She’s taking them to a favourite haunt of hers, though she intends to see you later as well. Before that however, there’s something I’d also like to show you.” Celestia lit up with magic. Chrysalis stifled a small gasp, hoping the princess hadn’t noticed. She was more on edge than she had realized. Thrice now she’d come to Canterlot, and never had it ended as she’d expected it to. With only herself, Beetle and Surreal lurking outside, more companions than protectors at that, she had abandoned all pretense of open confrontation as an option. A board drifted over to the table, followed by a comet’s tail of intricately carved pieces. They settled in exact places, two rows to a side, the smaller ones in front. “Do you know this game, Chrysalis?” She didn’t. Changelings didn’t have such things, not usually. “Indulge me with a game. I’ll teach you as we play.” Seeing no reason to say no, Chrysalis let Celestia have her way of it. The Queen had sat on the clandestine invitation for two weeks, fidgeting and thinking in her familiar gloom. Eventually curiosity and her own need for resolution had won out, , and she had come. Celestia moved her horn through the air as if conducting the single purest note of an aria. Lights trailed behind the motion, falling upon the board and illuminating the pieces. “It’s a game of thought and planning. We take turns.” Celestia took the first move, sliding one of her little marble pieces forwards one space. Chrysalis, not knowing what else to do, did the same with its ebony counterpart. “This piece is the pegasus,” said Celestia, lifting a different piece, the one second from the back edge. “They are fleet and agile, twisting and turning through the air with dizzying speed. So nimble are they that they can fly through other pieces to where they wish to go, like so.” Again, Chrysalis mirrored the action. A few turns passed, with more of the smallest pieces marching headlong against each other. “Now this, this is the earth pony. Sturdy. Reliable and strong. They charge ahead, rushing to discovery and defence in equal measure.” So too did Celestia’s charge along the board, and she claimed a black pawn for her own. Again Celestia motioned with her horn; the fey light settled upon a slender, tapering piece. “The unicorn, however, lacks that strength. With magic though, they can achieve equally great feats, albeit with magic they approach the challenge from a different angle than that of their sisters.” The unicorn slid along the diagonal, knocking another black pawn from the board. Chrysalis was chafing, yes, but more so she was thinking; something all but habit now. She’d bide her time. “And the two largest pieces?” the changeling asked, suspecting she already knew. “Sun and moon, respectively.” The sun piece was naturally larger, she noticed. Somepony, somewhere, was laughing under their breath. “The game ends when the sun is captured.” Chrysalis snorted her disdain. “But not the moon?” Celestia glowered. “The sun piece is essential, yes, but it is...limited. It does not to get to move so freely as the others. It must be meticulous, and make its choices carefully, or risk everything. It can move just one space in a turn.” Breaking from her mimicry, Chrysalis pushed her Sun a step forwards. It was undeniably satisfying to her, knowing what it represented. Celestia’s moon piece slid along, knocking another black pawn from the game. Marble pieces seemed to surge across the board, and she had nothing to show for it. Chrysalis chewed her lip, albeit gently lest her fangs tear through it. “The moon moves more freely than the sun. It can freely do what the sun cannot, thought out or not, good or ill.” Chrysalis rolled her own under her hoof, around and around on the spot. “So, this little moon here is the strongest piece in the game.” “Yes,” Celestia said, almost grudgingly. A pegasus knocked another ebony pawn from the board. Turns passed. Celestia, whether from cruelty or compassion, slowed her assault. Chrysalis even knocked a few white pawns from the board, but lost an earth pony and a unicorn in turn. Nevertheless, she smiled, even in such dire straits. Celestia looked her in the eye. “Do you understand how this works, Chrysalis?” The Queen of changelings held a captured white pawn to her eyes, her inspection crawling over every inch of its worth. In the green magic, it looked like a harvest pod in miniature. She set the pawn down gently with its kin. “Yes. I think I do. And it’s my turn, I believe.” “It is.” The emerald flames grabbed not a black piece, but a white one. One of Celestia’s pegasi pieces, each sitting next to the other. Taking it, she moved it and knocked down a marble unicorn piece. Celestia’s eyebrow went up, but she said nothing, staring with silent consideration. “That one’s a changeling, you see.” the Queen explained happily. The white moon piece surged through, taking the supposed changeling piece for itself. Chrysalis grinned. “Yes, it did go something like that, didn’t it?” She parked her own little moon next to Celestia’s, placing the princess in check; they could each lose their strongest piece, or settle things more diplomatically. Celestia stared at the board, weighing her options. Chrysalis leaned across the table. “I’m learning this game, princess, and I’m sure you understand that I don’t mean the one on these squares. And I’m playing it, because these mean something,” she said, lifting the fallen pawns of both colours to float in front of her. “But we changelings are here now, and the rules are changing,” she said, relishing each syllable of it. “We are not going away.” Celestia looked to the Queen’s eyes, then to the board. She tipped over her own sun piece, but smiled as she did so. She’d lost the game by doing that, hadn’t she? Chrysalis was baffled; she felt like she’d just been played, despite the victory. “Then it’s a pleasure playing with you, Chrysalis. I look forward to more of it. Shall we leave?” It was just gone nightfall when Chrysalis, disguised as a very dapper unicorn, came across Luna. It was in the gardens, but not the secluded, meandering paths that the changeling had come to recognize. Rather this was the more open area, a meticulously primped and pressed spread of grass tastefully tended between the castle and garden proper. Decorative little fairy lights were situated here and there from tree branches and lanterns alike, as if the choicest of colourful little stars had been brought down to the world for their private enjoyment. She was not alone. Two ponies followed behind and to the side of her. One mare was the pink of carnations with a bouncy lush mane. The earth pony was near huddled against her companion, a stoney looking pegasus stallion, all black and with a face that was quite possibly unknown to smiles. One black wing was draped over pink shoulders. They were of a height, but Beetle seemed to stand taller, more alert and less trusting, whilst the mare was caught between equal measures anticipation and worry. “I can go back if you want, my Queen,” she said in a hushed manner. Since their prior visit to Canterlot, Chrysalis had dedicated no small amount of time and effort to bringing Surreal back into the fold. The implications of a lost changeling being brought were invigorating, but much of it had been Chrysalis’ own personal vexation at seeing one of the few expressive changelings willing to challenge her word slip into something sullen and morose. There was no doubting her expressiveness, which pleased Chrysalis. Her confidence, on the other hoof...The faux-unicorn sighed with patient amusement and halted abruptly. She turned to Surreal and, because the Queen of changelings enjoyed it immensely, she let her fangs slip through the disguise. She never had liked being parted from them for very long, and ran her tongue over each in turn. Her eyes glinted a hue natural to nopony living. “Of course you could. Except I don’t want that. You’re ready to face her again, I’ve already told you this, Surreal. Every few minutes, in fact.” “If you insist—” Surreal said, still hoping for a way to slip out. “I do,” said Chrysalis, and that was that. A slight stroke along Surreal’s back from the black feathers of Beetle warranted a cautious, hopeful little glance from her to him, and she started on again. Luna was similarly accompanied, for there was the alicorn, her two followers, and none other. “Which one’s the changeling?” Surreal whispered, her brow furrowing as she glanced between the brothers. “I can’t tell.” Beetle gave a snort. It was a very expressive snort, saying it didn’t matter which one was which, for he was disinclined to like either very much, changeling or not. He was very much a non-verbal communicator. Wispy clouds drifted in a sea of starlight. The alicorn’s wings were open and she stood easy; the breeze played across her feathers like the strings of an instrument just out of hearing. Luna was holding in the crook of her leg, of all things a mallet. It stood quite at odds with everything else, though on further observation the brothers Wax and Wane each had one as well, and held them in similar manners. Chrysalis stepped closer. “Is your sister always like that?” she asked, a not wholly unexpected smile finding itself on her lips. Luna nodded with playful sympathy. “Quite often, yes. She absolutely must take the most complicated and subtle way to do something possible. She likes to prove how clever she is, you see.” “She taught me chess,” Chrysalis said. The alicorn’s wings flared slightly, but only from mirth and disbelief. “She didn’t!” Aware of a certain pair of pink eyes peeping out from behind her, Chrysalis stepped promptly to the side, leaving poor Surreal to stand on her own hooves. “With the board and the pieces? She really did.” Luna shifted the mallet to her other hoof, then gestured the brothers. They nodded, and started setting up little arches of bent wire that sunk easily into the soft grass. “Did Celestia make it overbearing with metaphors about life? She loves doing that.” Chrysalis opened her mouth to speak but, realizing in hindsight she’d been equally guilty if not more so of that selfsame crime, merely shrugged instead. She remembered Celestia’s smug, unexpected satisfaction at the turn of events. “I won,” Chrysalis said simply. Luna gave her an inquisitive look. A small table set under the shelter of a tree bore refreshments. Magic lifted a tiny glass of something sparkling to the alicorn, which she drained in a single draught. “Well and truly? I will have to hear what transpired. She’s much better than me at it. Always trying to get me to play, too.” “Excuse me,” one of the twins mumbled, gently insisting Surreal move aside. She did so with a start. Beetle was slower to move, and he held the pegasus’ eye for a moment before stepping aside, towards Surreal. Where they had stood a little wire hoop had been set into the ground. “Thank you,” Wane said and moved on. “Help yourself to a mallet, Chrysalis. You too,” she said, facing each changeling in turn. Next to the bench was a rack, from which the Queen of changelings levitated over one such mallet. Coloured balls and more wickets were stacked neatly in its framework. “And this is what now?” Even using magic, Luna still put her shoulder into the motion of a few practice swings, ones that skimmed along the grass but never quite touched soil. “This is my game. I can’t believe Celestia let croquet die out in the time I was gone! I’ve been pushing for two years to revive it, with some success,” she said, clear satisfaction in her voice. Still disguised as a unicorn, the green fire of the Queen’s magic nonetheless added its eerie light to the peace of the garden. Chrysalis gave the mallet a few perfunctory swings, mostly miming Luna’s own motion, bar the unnecessary swing of her shoulders. “Is this going to be another thinly veiled thing about life—” Chrysalis made a sort of gesture with her hooves— “and all that?” Luna stamped her hooves as if preparing for a light run. “Absolutely not. There’s none of that—” Luna made an equally confused gesture with her hooves, as if trying to do a cat’s cradle and failing in quite spectacular fashion— “sort of thing in this. That has always been part of why I love it so. It is the simplest thing in the world.” The rules were explained in delightfully few sentences. They set play in motion, Chrysalis and Luna, ponies and changelings. Surreal was proving herself on good form, and even Beetle was coaxed into participating, if for his companion’s sake more than his Queen’s. It was nice. It was fun. It was, by and large, the most bewildering thing Chrysalis had ever experienced. Balls passed through wickets or near enough, and the game slowed. A beaten old journal was passed over to Chrysalis. Luna had tucked her wings down. They folded up surprisingly neatly on her slim body, and Chrysalis caught herself appraising the differences more than noting the sudden object before her. Seen from the height of a normal pony, she looked so very different, yet so very much the same. “Remember this?” Luna asked, giving the red booklet a soft shake. “I finally finished it.” Chrysalis took it gently. The flames crawled tenderly over it, turning to the first page. “Fallow Field’s journal. I’d almost forgotten this.” Luna looked askance. “Once or twice I did.” The alicorn took aim and swung. With the pock! sound the ball went rolling, narrowly sidestepping Chrysalis’ own to pass through the little gate. The others were in various states of rest. Largely they’d kept to themselves, but the easy atmosphere, the peace of night and the steady flow of time was warming each side to the other. The black pegasus Beetle, looking very much eponymous, still and watching while Surreal made passing attempts at conversation. Both rulers eyed the scene in quiet thought. “It was him: that colt Fallow mentions. The one that helped them around their home, and the one that lead Fallow to you after his wife died. That was Beetle.” Chrysalis eyed her approach carefully. She gave the mallet a steady swing. Her ball tumbled and bumped its way along the grass, rolled neatly through the wicket and had energy left over to tap against Luna’s. “Doesn’t look the type, does he? We’re more than parasites, you know,” but she said it in a different manner, because yes, Luna did know. It’d been none other whom had first made that accusation. Again, Chrysalis caught herself eyeing the dark alicorn. A lot had happened since then. Most of it still didn’t make sense. They watched in silence as the others took their turns. There was no rush. “Fallow chose to go inside. That’s the last entry. He even thanks you...sort of. Yet that doesn’t mean anything for the others.” Choices. Sometimes it seemed that’s all there was. Chrysalis sighed. Luna craned her neck back, her wings hung lax beside her. She stared wistfully into the stars, seeing out there perhaps what none other could. “There’s still a lot to resolve,” she said, her eyes not wavering from the eternal lights far beyond their world. Then she blinked and her eyes, almost glowing in the darkness, fixed upon Chrysalis. “With you, as well.” Chrysalis turned to focus on her next shot, feeling Luna’s eyes upon her back. It’d be tricky, but it was doable. “Yes,” she said flatly. “But maybe there’s been enough of that tonight, little moon. Let’s just play.”