Maternal Instinct
Chapter Eight
Two days had passed since that horrible night and the royal palace was in a state of mourning; the likes of their worst nightmares come to life. Their most cherished and adored family member was in the hospital and the Queen had not left her royal chamber since then. That night, she quietly ordered the head servants to instruct everychangeling to leave her alone. Later, she magically locked her doors, gladly cutting herself off from the outside world.
When Chrysalis did not come out the following morning for breakfast, or to begin her duties for that day, it was, for the most part, understandable. Still, her royal duties needed to be fulfilled, regardless of the circumstances, but Danauria, the natural next-in-line, wrinkled her muzzle in disgust at the thought of herself undertaking anything to do with politics or requiring her to write more than two sentences on parchment. She instead delegated them to her uncle, who accepted them willingly and gratefully. An experienced drama queen herself, she could handle the bereavement of her family well enough, but her patience with her sister had its limits and it became severely tested come the second day of the latter’s self-imposed exile.
Her sister. Danauria felt the bile rising in her throat at just thinking about the wretched mare, festering up in the towers, she called ‘sister’. The rest of the family wondered about the staircase leading up to her chamber and pictured a loving, caring leader and mother in mourning. In spite of herself, she could not allow them to know the truth; it would utterly destroy this already strained family. The Captain and her most trusted mares-in-waiting and servants were all sworn to silence, with their lives as collateral. Each generation of the royal family had their own share of secrets to bear, this was hers.
She was lying down on a cushion in a tiny sitting room, the same Chrysalis had torn apart two days ago. Everything had already been repaired or replaced and the whole room looked as good as new. Curled up by her side like a little furry ball was her son, sleeping with the peace and content on his face a larva would have. The young mother gently pushed the overgrown fringe from his face. That simple colt, he could not understand the terrible things happening to his family.
Danauria was waiting for the servants to return. She had been sending servants up there repeatedly to check on her sister, but every time they knocked on the doors, they were met with complete eerie silence, not even the tiniest peep. If they returned with the same news one more time, she swore she was going up there herself.
“Your Highness?”
She broke off from her gazing into space and stared at the servant who had just now entered the room.
“Well?”
“Not a word.”
And the time was now.
She nuzzled her son tenderly on the head and got up with an irritated, drawn out sigh, “Stay here and watch Morphin until I return. I’ll handle this.” She marched past the servant and slid the doors shut with her magic.
The changeling stallion bowed obediently as their Princess left, but felt his back stiffen when he heard the painful whinny of the young Prince awaking from his slumber.
When she reached the top of the stairs leading to her sister’s chamber, Danauria was met by two hoofmaidens hovering fussily around the ornate doors, one going as far as to clinging onto them and pressing her ear against the surface to listen in.
“Your Majesty, please come out!” one of them begged desperately, practically on her knees.
“Do you want us to get you something to eat?” the other asked, still clinging to the doors. She glanced at her companion. “How long’s it been since she’s eaten anything?”
“I’ll take it from here, girls, leave us,” Danauria ordered them firmly and both immediately flew off without second invite.
Alone in front of the entrance to her sister’s chamber, she narrowed her purple eyes into a glare and lowered her voice as she spoke, leaning forward closely and rapping on the door, “Sister? It’s me. Open up.”
Silence, and nothing more.
“Chrysalis, can you hear me in there? Open this door.”
Silence, and nothing more.
“Chrysali--”
“Go away.”
The voice that emanated from behind the doors sounded so quiet and weak, Danauria first mistook it for some small, dying animal, but doing a retake, she was most sure that it came from none other than her own sister. She felt herself recoil and cover her muzzle with her sleeve when she picked up the putrid smell of old blood and stuffy air wafting from the door crack.
The vile stench hung around the darkened chamber, overpowering any fresh air that seeped its way through the firmly shut windows. Not a piece of overturned or ruined furniture had been touched or any blood or tonic stain cleaned. It was not high up in the list of the Queen’s current priorities to have this wreckage cleared up.
A private bathroom for Her Majesty’s use was a recent instalment in the corner of the chamber. Its walls were pristine pearly white, complete with matching furnishings, which had the strange effect of blending almost perfectly into them.
A monstrous vermin now inhabited this sterile room, having moved into it and making it its residence two days ago. It rested in a pile inside the modern, Equestrian-styled bath tub terribly wounded, not so much physically as mentally. This had once been a proud, powerful creature under whose hooves the weak were crushed. Now it was a weakened, stinking, oversized parasite curled against the side of the tub, doing nothing but taking up valuable space and breathing precious air.
Queen Chrysalis moved her muzzle from off her chest and pressed her cheek against the cold surface of the tub. She was so tired that she did not even have the energy to bring her head to lift.
“Oh, so suddenly you can talk again?”
She did not respond to the harsh resonance of her sister’s voice. It was the equivalent of a long, sharp piece of metal being jammed into her ear.
Chrysalis took a moment to inhale the air around her. The stench was so strong it broke her from her stupor and caused her to wrinkle her muzzle. It was not just the metallic aroma from outside, but the one humming off her body. In no uncertain terms, she stank. She had not removed her now stretched, blood stained and sweat drenched kimono since that night and her mane was matted in thick locks against her face. It had been two days since she last bathed, and a mare at her age and physical condition needed regular maintenance.
She strongly considered running a warm bath (she was already in the tub, after all). The remaining blood that she had not managed to scrub off her legs was irritating her. All she had to do was get out of these wrecked trappings that were still worth enough to feed several villages for a year, find somewhere to put it and her crown...
Her crown. Where was her crown? She peered over the tub and easily spotted her little black and jewel tipped ornament lying unceremoniously on its side at the base of the sink. It came back to her: she carelessly discarded it before she crawled into the bath. The damn thing was too heavy, anyway.
She garnered the least amount of effort and brought the crown levitating into her hooves, glaring at it through sharply narrowed eyes. This time in her self-imposed exile in her own chamber gave her enough time to think. This crown had brought her nothing but pain since the day it was placed on her head by the High Priestess.
Her coronation was the happiest day of her life, blinding her with the pomp and ceremony and glamorous illusions of limitless power and the status of a living kami. But Chrysalis came to realize that that was all they were: illusions. With her newfound status and power came extremely high expectations, ones she could never truly live up to, compared to her predecessors. And even with all the power at her hooves, the cavalcade of her people’s woes could not be solved. All the sleepless nights, the tightness in her chest, her failing eyesight, her dependency of those pills that lay scattered on her desk.
She was not a living kami; she was a changeling mare who, by sheer luck out of millions, was born into the royal family and possessed magical powers beyond the average changeling. If there was one thing Canterlot taught her the hard way, it was that inconvenient truth.
How much longer could she go on?
“Chrysalis! How long do you plan on staying in there? Answer me!”
Chrysalis grimaced, mentally moaning, ‘Oh right, her.’ Danauria was still buzzing around outside.
“Daury, I can’t come out right now,” she spoke loud enough to make sure she could hear and flopped over on her big belly, the tip of her horn scraping the porcelain. “Respect my wishes and give me privacy.”
“Two days alone in your chamber is long enough.” A pause followed before her sister continued, sounding less bellicose and more pleading, “You can’t stay in there forever. You still have important duties to perform. Uncle can’t keep doing them for you.”
“Last I checked, you were supposed to do them.”
“... Alright, fine. If you won’t do your work, then at least come downstairs. Our family needs you at this time. Have you any idea how worried they are about you? Do it if just to give them some peace of mind.”
Chrysalis was only half-listening, her mind drifting away from her sister’s shrill braying and onto her loved ones. She knew Danauria was right: it was cruel and selfish for her to leave them all panicking about her well-being, while Pupa lay near death in the hospital. She could only imagine the nightmare they were collectively going through at this moment in time, the very nightmare crafted by her hooves.
She now began thinking of Pupa, her darling bundle of sunshine, Pupa-chan. Two days ago, she could not bring herself to think about her, for her shame was too great, but now these inescapable thoughts plagued her whenever she was awake, and it was not just because of the picture her talented daughter drew for her, laying back on her bed; the same one the grown mare spent poring over for hours on end, paying no attention that her rainfall of tears was staining the crayon. Danauria’s interruption allowed her to divert her thoughts for a moment, but they still returned to her daughter. Chrysalis would never let herself forget the image of Pupa’s beaten and bloody face, the kind of damage only a wild animal could do, nor unhear her screams of terror still ringing in her ears. If it had been anychangeling else who did this, she would have made it her mission to track them down and exact brutal vengeance herself. What was she to do now? Beat herself up? What good would that do besides bring some minor stress relief?
Pupa was going to die; there was no question about it. Her fate was sealed. The doctors would not be able to save her, nochangeling could. Her poor filly would spend her final days, or hours wrapped in wires, oxygen continuously pumped into her mouth and her little heart zapped around the clock, all in the pathetic hope of delaying that inevitable moment when Chrysalis' bloodline officially ended.
What made her do it? How could she possibly justify to her family or to herself such cruelty against her baby? All she could remember was just how unrelentingly angry she was. Had all her pent up anger simply boiled over and Pupa, unfortunately, happened to be in her way? Or maybe... maybe she really wanted to hurt her? Deep down, she wanted to maim Pupa; she wanted to make her suffer and squeal for mercy like a mouse being squeezed to death in the claws of a predator.
Was she really the insidious monster Equestria’s sensationalist press continuously smeared her as?
Knowing her sister wanted a reply, Chrysalis curled up into her a tight ball, pulled her kimono up like bed sheets and murmured, shutting her heavy eyelids, “I can’t, Daury.”
“Then what do you want me to tell them?”
“Tell them I’m sorry.”
Danauria stood out there, eyes bugged and mouth agape. For a moment, her voice vanished from her throat. She hung her head, taking long breaths and consolidating her thoughts. Who was this mare? This was not the big, iron-willed sister she grew up with; the same sister who defied Equestria’s dominance of the planet and sought to take it down herself. Chrysalis would never act so cowardly! So spineless!
“Chrysalis... you make me sick,” she spoke with disdain as she turned her back on the doors, her head hanging low. “I never thought I’d say this, but you have made me ashamed to call you my flesh and blood. I could forgive the incident with Equestria, and I always trusted you knew what was best in running the kingdom. But what you’ve done to Pupa and what you’re continuing to do to this family brings nothing but dishonour to us all.” When she received no response, she lost her temper and stomped her hoof. “FINE! Stay in there and pine away! See if I care...”
Danauria stuck her flank up and huffed as she descended the stairs. She only stopped to look back to declare angrily, “Our father was right, you are a disgrace!”
Before she knew what hit her, she was blinded by a flash of green. Shaking her head and the green haze quickly fading, Danauria came to realize she was no longer standing out on the staircase. She was now in Chrysalis’ unlit chamber, just opposite where she was previously standing through the locked doors.
Danauria threw up a little in her mouth when her sensitive muzzle picked up the rotten stink polluting the air. This was not a monarch’s private quarters; it was an animal’s den. Her initial revulsion was nothing compared to the feeling of her legs turning to jelly when her sister literally bucked the bathroom door open with a crash and stormed out, a malevolent glint in her sore, puffy eyes and her hoof catching on the hem of her kimono more than once.
“Say that again,” she snarled, advancing on her younger sister step-by-step, who mimicked her with backward steps of her own, until she was backed up against the doors. She was only inches taller than Danauria, but her demeanour made it appear she towered over her. “... I said ‘repeat what you just said!”’
Danauria was not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but she knew she had foalishly underestimated her sister and landed herself in a trap. Too late now. Chrysalis wanted the truth? She was going to get it.
She faced up to her, their eye levels matching once more, and with all her courage (or be it gull), Danauria said slowly, “Father always said that you were a failure! And you know what? He was right! You have brought nothing but dishonour to your throne and our family!”
Chrysalis did not answer, but maintained a steely gaze and locked jaw. She took a deep breath and without hesitation, in an arc of grey, swung her hoof and delivered a vicious slap to Danauria’s cheek. The strike resonated so loudly, it sounded like a whip crack.
The Princess squealed and her hooves flew over her face, scrambling up against the doors like a cockroach. She broke down crying; it was the first time anychangeling ever laid an aggressive hoof on her. Chrysalis sneered down at her with contempt.
“After everything that’s happened, how dare you say that to me!”
“You hit me…” Danauria sniffled, caressing her burning cheek.
“I barely touched you!”
Growling, Chrysalis shoved her hoof into Danauria’s chest, pinning her against the doors like a mounted butterfly. She flashed her teeth, dulled from lack of maintenance, but dangerously sharp to the touch.
“If that was Morphin in hospital, you’d be crying your eyes out and begging everychangeling for their sympathy!” She continued, maternal rage and indignation tinting every word as she closed in on her face, to the point their muzzles were pressed against each other. “What gives you the right to deny mine to grieve?!”
“Well, at least I wouldn’t have put him there!”
Chrysalis reeled back, pulling away her hoof. Her mouth opened and closed again as the stunned look on her face told she was thinking of something to say. The words had rendered her frozen like she was the one who had been slapped. Danauria immediately regretted what she said and her eyes frantically searched for a means of escape and her lips flapped frantically for words.
“I-I’m sorry. Chrysalis, I didn’t mean it! No... NO!” Danauria’s voice cracked when she saw Chrysalis, her face contorting with silent fury, raising her hoof above their heads, ready to strike. She threw her side against the door and shielded her face. “HEEEEELP!”
The blow did not come. The bedroom doors suddenly opened and she fell backwards, crashing down on the hardwood floor. She took the chance to scoot back on her haunches, fearfully trying to get as far away from her sister as possible.
“You’re an ANIMAL!” she screamed accusingly on the verge of hysterics, tears sprinkling out the corners of her pretty, mascaraed eyes. “That little peasant was right about you! You are a MONSTER!”
Chrysalis did not move from her spot. Her hoof dithered in midair before it slowly returned to the floor. She trembled away from the hallway light pouring into her chamber as if it was toxic and hid her face within her mane, anything to hide the tears swelling up in her eyes.
“Is that what you think of me?” she asked, her hollow voice quivering. Through the gossamer locks, her chin trembled, in spite of her efforts.
Danauria did not answer; hers was clear by the shame written over her face. Now she could not bear to look her in the eye and stared weeping down at the floor instead.
A moment passed and neither sister uttered a word, nor raised their heads from their chests to look at the other.
“So that’s it...” Chrysalis concluded blankly as she disappeared into the shadows, only to reappear moments later with something hovering next to her head. “Here. Catch!”
The object flew out the door and struck Danauria on her temples before she had time to react and landed in her lap. The Princess checked her head in case it was bleeding and looked down to find the heavy hunk of metal lying intact against her robe. She gasped, hoof over mouth; it was the royal crown.
She stared up at the matriarch incredulously. “Chrysalis... what are you doing?”
“I’m a disgrace, an embarrassment to my line,” she declared bitterly, turning her back to her. “I wash my hooves of that thing. Take it. Take it and go. And don’t you ever speak to me again.”
“But—you can’t—!”
Chrysalis whirled around, her eyes and horn lit green, screaming as loud she could, “Are you deaf?! I know you’re right, okay?! I’m a bucking failure! A failure whose line is about to end! So take it! IT’S. YOURS!”
Danauria was rendered speechless. She only continued to gawk from the untarnished crown to her sister and to the crown again.
“Enjoy it!”
The doors slammed shut and Chrysalis disappeared into her lair once more, the sound making the Princess wince as if something else was just lobbed at her.
She sat there, not moving from the spot, not making a sound. Her mind was stuck trying to process everything that just happened. She handled the little black crown in her hooves, stroking its smooth, cold surface and staring lamentingly at her reflection that shone by the torches on the walls.
Picking herself up, Danauria dragged herself tearfully down the stairs, tucking the crown carelessly into her kimono pocket. She figured the best thing to do was place it in her own chamber to keep it safe.
‘Then what?’ she thought. Probably to go back and tend to her son, and, with any luck, stay out of anychangeling’s way, in case she actually managed to things even worse.
The gravity of the situation quickly dawned on the pampered, gorgeous Princess. She began to feel something completely foreign to her, tightening in her chest and ruining her normally perfect posture. Was it guilt? Was this, she wondered, what guilt felt like? It must have been.
She tried taking the lead to help mend this disaster her sister made. Instead, she made it worse beyond her comprehension.
The Prime Minister was sleeping soundly at his home when he was summoned to the palace in the early hours of the first morning. Naturally, his desire to have his first eight hour sleep in days and allow his body to regain its strength urged him to stay, but his duty as head of his nation’s government came first and he hurriedly bid his half-asleep wife goodbye and accompanied the guards.
He was taken to his office; there he was met by Prince Pincer. What he was told he would not have believed if it had not come from the mouth of a royal changeling, and even then, he had to ask him to repeat it twice to be sure he was not just hearing things in his drowsy state. He took some time to sit down and take all the information in.
An emergency meeting of the cabinet was to be held immediately, the only problem being that most of the ministers had already left the capital to deal with political matters that called them away. This was not so much a major problem as it was an irritating inconvenience since they could all easily be summoned back and arrive the next day. What nearly sent the Prime Minister throwing his desk over in frustration was when he learned the Queen refused to come down and head the meeting as was custom. Pincer managed to calm him down by assuring that he was trusted with carrying out the monarch’s duties in her stead.
That did not mean the rest of the cabinet, come the next day when they were all gathered in the same dreary room as they were two days before, were as understanding.
“The Queen cannot simply refuse to attend an emergency meeting of the cabinet!”
“Technically speaking, she can do whatever she pleases.”
“It does not mean she should. This is an emergency. We need the Queen with us more than ever!”
The tension in the room was so thick that a changeling could cut through it with a sword. Ministers in these meetings were expected to hold themselves to the highest standard of appropriate behaviour, but these were only mortal creatures and the stress of a difficult situation the likes of this was able to get to the best of stallions.
It was the monarchists who started the argument with the liberalist and independent ministers. Without the unchallengeable Queen there to silence them with her mere presence, there was nothing to stop these ideologically opposed, bull-headed stallions from butting heads. All the Prime Minister and the royal stand-in could do was wait patiently for the arguing to simmer down and serve as lightning rods to their anger.
“The Queen and her family should be allowed her privacy at a time like this!” rebuked the Minister for the Environment. She pointed to the old Gensui sitting in the monarch’s place next to the Prime Minister. “Prince Pincer has more experience than any of us and as he has been delegated this task, we have no right to challenge him. We’ve wasted enough time squabbling over something so petty!”
“Thank you, Cara,” said Prince Pincer, speaking for the first time in the last twenty minutes. The Ministers quietened as they turned their heads to face him. His spoke softly and kindly, but the grief and unfounded guilt outlined in the wrinkles on his aged face betrayed him. The pitch black kimono he wore reflected very well his true inner feelings. “You make an excellent point. We must focus on what is important.”
The majority of the cabinet did not appear to share his sentiment. Having the Queen absent was one thing, but for her replacement to be a Gensui, a member of the military elite, was another. For many years, they sought to keep the Changeling Army as separate as possible from their cabinet; Prince Pincer’s presence here alone went against their political sovereignty.
“So you have told us, Your Highness,” said the monarchist Minister for Justice, a heavyset changeling wearing a very dark blue and bright orange kimono. “The Crown Princess has been hospitalized and remains in critical but stable condition. I am certain all of us are up to speed by now. What you and the Prime Minister fail to tell us are the details, say for example, exactly what happened to the Princess? ”
For the first time in that meeting, Prince Pincer and the Prime Minister exchanged glances. The latter sat stone-faced and upright compared to his older counterpart, but it was how he conducted himself: the way he held and smoked a long white cigarette in between the holes in his hoof, the way he stared straight ahead into complete nothingness, these subtle hints betrayed his stoic exterior and gave away his feelings of dread. He understood the Prince’s cue and blew a big puff of smoke.
“I’m afraid we cannot divulge with you the exact details of the incident,” he informed them, while magicking over a glass ashtray. “It is private information we do not believe is within the cabinet or the public’s interests to know.”
A low groan resonated across the table and the thin, weedy Minister for Internal Affairs asked another question, sounding more pugnacious than his predecessor.
“Then what of the press? And the public for that matter? When will this be released?”
“Until the Queen decides otherwise, this must be kept tightly under wraps. Only this cabinet, the palace, the High Priestess and the hospital’s staff are aware of any of this,” Pincer answered levelly. “We have despatched the guards to the vicinity and the secret police has been placed on high alert. If any of this leaks into the press, the matter will be dealt with swiftly.”
The new wave of mutterings amongst the cabinet indicated their pacification with his answer from both sides.
“Well, then...” spoke Defence Minister Gryllus apathetically, looking ready to sit up. “We all know what’s happening, so if there’s nothing more we need to discuss...”
“You seem in a hurry, Gryllus,” commented Cricka, the ragged Minister for Food and Agriculture, who sat next him.
“I have long lines of deserters ready for execution and they’re only going to get longer.” He turned to Pierce and added earnestly, “I mean you no disrespect, Your Highness, but I cannot see what more is there to talk about. We can only trust the hospital to nurse the Princess back to health.” His statement was met with a grim silence from his peers. “... What?”
“I’m afraid, Gryllus, that’s not why we’re here.” The Prime Minister pressed his cigarette firmly into his tray, extinguishing it with a soft ‘hsss’. “The situation is more dangerous than you realize.”
“At the moment, we have no choice but to discuss the worst case scenario, however much we don’t want to,” Pincer said solemnly, his eyes closed and hooves held together on the table.
“You mean if the Princess...”
“Yes.”
Gryllus was taken aback, and he shook his head adamantly. “No, that is not possible.” He looked to his peers for support, none of whom looked him back and in their eyes saw the dull shared fear. “W-We have the kingdom’s finest doctors working round the clock on her.”
“If there is one thing my years in the army have taught me, it’s that no operation goes according to plan.”
A stack of folder in the middle of the table levitated to each changeling sitting in a chair and opened up for them. The Prime Minister lifted his copy and began reading from it aloud.
“As you can see from your copies, we’ve outlined the different routes for the future transition of power. The Queen’s wishes for when the Crown Princess assumes the throne remain as follows: the immediate formation of a regency council to exercise the royal prerogative on the Princess’ behalf. Given the Princess’ illnesses and disabilities as they stand already, we’ve agreed this is the most appropriate route. The members list has recently been updated to include another General, the incumbent Minister for Defence and Prince Pincer.”
Gryllus’ bat-like ears perked up in interested, though he kept his eyes firmly on his copy. With his secure tenure and popularity in his hard-line approach towards deserters, his chances of holding his post for many years to come seemed within reach with it a promised greater slice of power.
“But we are now forced to accept that the Princess may not live to see that day. In that case, we have put together a plan to confirm with you, one we have considered for some time.”
Pincer decided to finish it off. He was no stranger now to taking the brunt of anger for unpopular initiatives. He had less to lose than the Prime Minister did.
“If the Princess does not survive, the Queen will choose a new heir.”
The Minister’s faces turned bone white as several jumped to their hooves and in seconds, the room was alive with roars of protest like it had been swamped with a whole zoo full of animals. Neither the Prime Minister or Pincer even flinched; the former took out and lit another cigarette.
“You dare try and alter the line of secession!?”
“I shall not serve as a false Queen or King!”
“You do not have the power to dictate this to us!”
“We have been making contact with the High Priestess and her council!” The Prime Minister suddenly shouted over his cabinet, his abruptness cutting their protests short. He recollected himself and continued more calmly, “And they have agreed to recognize, with their confirmation, the Queen’s chosen heir and successor, daughter or otherwise.”
The Immigration Minister blinked, looking shell-shocked. “The High Priestess said that?”
"Yes."
Their protests simmering down to disgruntled mutters, many of the Ministers sat themselves down. Some of them could not believe it; the High Priestess would be willing to go along with this crazy idea? How could that possibly be true? Or were the Prince and the Prime Minister merely lying to their faces to get them on board?
“The High Priestess would never betray our traditions!” The Justice Minister barked defiantly, still refusing to back down. “Have you lost your minds?! What you propose flies in the face of one of our most sacred traditions. It strictly dictates--”
“Minister, we are aware of what tradition and custom dictate!” The Prime Minister shot back with tenacity. As a politician, he was hot-wired to not let his guard down, but the ranting and ravings of these belligerent ministers was trying his patience. “But in case you’ve all been asleep these last two days, we find ourselves in uncharted waters. This is where we have to make our own rules. Please understand that we would never put this forward unless we felt we absolutely had to.”
“But the changeling people will never accept such a change,” Cricka tried to reason amongst the sea of bitter remarks.
“Maybe, but that is something they must come to terms with,” Pincer rebuked. “Don’t any of you understand the seriousness of this situation? We all wish to adhere to the sacred traditions and customs of our ancestors, but if we do not allow ourselves the ability to make changes in situations as dire and unexpected as these, we risk our own destruction! What will you do if my great niece, Kami bless her sweet little soul, does die? This plan may become our only means to avoid a successional crisis. To reject it at this time would be foalish.”
“There has to be another way.”
“This can easily be resolved: if she needs to, the Queen will just have to lay another egg.”
Hearing that last remark was the straw that broke the camel’s back for the old royal. Standing up, he pounded his hoof against the wooden floor, creating a crashing sound like thunder and shaking violently anything that was not bolted down.
“THAT’S ENOUGH!” He roared, his voice like canon fire and his eyes glowing a terrifying green, halting anychangeling’s protests in their tracks. “Have you any sense of decency or respect left for your Queen? Children are not just things you can just replace like old toothbrushes! Have you any idea the kind of suffering my niece has gone through?! Your Queen’s word is law! THIS is your Queen’s word and you MUST ACCEPT IT!”
When he finished, it looked like nochangeling had the guts to speak out against him. Some were even peeping out from underneath the table, shivering like decaying autumn leaves. They were aware of the Gensui’s reputation as having the heart of a manticore and the ferocious temper of one to match, but none of them had been present to witness such legendary rage. Until now.
The Prime Minister grabbed the Prince's shoulder and brought him back down, hissing in his ear, "Your Highness, please control yourself!"
Pincer's looked down with a hint of remorse on his scowl. He knew it was wrong of him to fly off the handle like that in an official meeting, but he could not just stand by at what he saw as an insult to his family.
A knock on the door caught everychangeling’s attention. The Prime Minister, still reeling from Prince’s outburst, edged his head and called, “Come in.”
An old maid shuffled into the room, head down to avoid any contact with the crowd of stallions (minus the two mares) who inhabited the room. Her gravy, bristly mane hung down one side of her face and the thick bags under her eyes did not do well for her appearance.
“Yes? What is it?”
The old maid did not answer the Prime Minister but trotted up to Prince Pincer’s side, whispering something into his ear.
“Hmm... what are you talking... she’s what?!” He briefly looked at the cabinet, saying as he stood up, “Excuse me. Take me to her!”
Without another word, the Prince and the maid left the room, and the Ministers were already shouting amongst each other before they were even fully out the door. Accusations of treason and disloyalty were being flung about like flaming arrows and blows were not far behind.
Cricka was the only one still sitting, his frail bones and bad back forbidding him from putting on any extra stress.
‘This isn’t a crisis,” he thought, shaking his head dismally. ‘It’s a nightmare.’
Chrysalis raised her head from the lukewarm water, breathing in quick gulps of air. Her mane’s soaked locks completely covered her face. Her eyes stung from the bubbles – ‘no more tears’ her two ton flank!
She clambered out of the tub, beads of water dripping off her fur, creating a trail of puddles in her wake. She could not remember the drying spell at the moment, so she did the next best thing and shook it off in a similar fashion to how her childhood shikokus used to when they got wet.
Shambling out of the bathroom and kicking a stool that was in her way, she recalled and cast the drying spell on herself and perched her rump on the edge of her bed, sitting in silence, hooves on lap as the last drops of water dripped from the fur on the back of her legs.
Kami knew Chrysalis needed that bath more than anything; by the time she turned the taps on there were flies hovering around her flank. It still did not make her feel any better; she just stunk of pomegranates and strawberries instead of her dried sweat.
She did not know what to do now, and that did not mean whether or not to go to bed. She thought relinquishing her crown to Danauria would feel like a weight lifted from her shoulders, but in reality, it felt like nothing of the sort, thus the ache in her heart only worsened. Even when she did get what she wanted, it was still never enough.
Again, her thoughts were only her daughter. Nothing could distract her from them. She knew what eventually had to be done, but it would mean hauling her big rump from her chamber and creating a panic with her disappearance.
‘Do I even care anymore, though? If both my line and my reign are about to end, what does it matter what I do now? Buck them!”
It took a while for her to make up her mind, but when her eyes happened upon Pupa’s darling picture, laying folded up into a neat little square on the bed, and she gave it a minutes long, adoring second look, she knew what to do. Eventually, she found herself standing up in front of her bed, no longer wearing a tight, constricting kimono, holding the picture and preparing for the teleportation spell. It should have been easy for a changeling with the experience in magic she had, but it required a clear, focused mind and that was something she was lacking lately.
A green spark emanated from the tip of her malformed spire of a horn and quickly quadrupled in size. It was working.
She heard voices.
“No! She cannot do this! She will not do this! I will not allow it!”
“Then tell her! She won’t even talk to me anymore!”
“Oh, I will!”
Chrysalis scowled. Uncle and Danauria. Of course, little miss ‘anorexic Sugar Queen’ blabbed her big mouth, what a surprise! But this time, they were not going to meddle with her affairs, and neither would they ever again. She just had to focus on the spell.
She heard her uncle pounding his hooves against her doors.
“Chrysalis! Your sister has told me everything! Don’t you dare even think about doing this!”
“Sorry, Uncle,” she whispered. She meant it too, but she could not allow him to interfere with something he so did not understand.
“You are acting out of grief; don’t be foalish and ruin everything you’ve strived for on a whim! Chrysalis!”
A tear ran out the corner of her eye and down her cheek. ‘I’m coming for you, Pupa.’
“She won’t unlock the door, Uncle.”
“Scooch back...”
In the nick of time, the spell was complete and Chrysalis had vanished in a flash of green light and smoke, just as the doors blew off their hinges and against the walls, splintering in a million pieces.
Both royals galloped into the room, searching for the Queen through the green fog, but immediately recoiled when they took their first breaths inside.
“Ugh! Oh my gods, you were right!” Pincer covered his muzzle with his sleeve. “The smell is unbearable!” When he shook it off and the fog cleared, he saw his worst fears confirmed and he gasped. “Good grief, she’s gone.”
“What?!” Danauria shrilled, grabbing her mane. “Where’d she go?!”
“I have no idea! We’ll have to dispatch the guards to search for her!”
“They’ll be no match for her.”
“We’re not going to try and bring her back in; we just need to find where she is.” The old Prince clutched his stomach, baring his teeth in pain. “Grrr! This stress is giving me ulcers!”
Danauria put her hoof on his shoulder as they made their way out. “Go and sit down, Uncle. I’ll go and alert the guards.”
“Your Highnesses!”
But speak of the devil, who should come running up the stairs in his clunking armour than one of the guards themselves, stopping at the top to catch his breath and give his flaming lungs a rest.
“Your timing could not have been more perfect, guard,” Pincer said, going up to greet him with no regard to his flustered appearance. “You must alert Captain Beetle the Queen has taken flight and we don’t know where. She must be found.”
The guard, still out of breath, bowed, wheezing, “Of course, Prince Pincer, but first I am ordered by the Captain to inform you of something of grave importance.”
“Dare I ask what?” Pincer groaned, rubbing his head which he swore, any minute, was going to crack open like an egg.
“Your Highness, we have just received word... Princess Celestia of Equestria has just arrived at the palace.”