//------------------------------// // Entry Thirty-Six // Story: Diary of an Aspiring Tyrant // by SugarPesticide //------------------------------// October 5, 1000 ANM Much to my disappointment, it appears that cockroaches are seldom seen within these palace walls. Micah Jayfill fulfilled her role quite well, the peasant. No matter. I shall yet have my revenge on Mi Amore Cadenza, even if I currently am at a loss as to what form that revenge will take. Currently I am inclined toward something involving duct tape, but I am still slightly reluctant to expose even that pink princess to its ill effects. I must put this vengeance nonsense out of mind. There are more pressing matters to consider. Last night I sought an audience to be receptive to my doubts. Blueblood was terribly busy working on some new device, which appears to be some sort of advanced mirror, so I was left with discussing matters with Chrysalis. She is not to be trusted, of course, and I shall not risk informing her of Starswirl’s journal, but that does not mean I have nothing to say to her. “She has noticed the love that you and your Dreams have stolen,” I was telling her, pacing relentlessly before her throne. “I assumed you would be wise and play a cautious game. Evidently I was mistaken.” “Hm?” She refrained from looking up from her report. “Are you talking about somepony?” “Naturally. I believe I previously warned you that Mi Amore Cadenza is apt at sensing love magic … or, indeed, the lack thereof. She reported to me just the other day that a hundred hearts had lost their love, or some such nonsense. I suppose it was too much to hope for an ounce of subtlety rather than a pound of recklessness?” She was silent for a moment. Then her eyes met mine. I did not much like her smile. “Only a hundred?” Her eyes gleamed. “Luna, that was simply a distraction. My Dreams have drained a million hearts of their love since we last spoke.” I gaped. I swallowed. I gaped again. “Close your mouth, please,” she tittered. “It’s not flattering in the slightest.” “But. But. How?” I gaped a third time for good measure. “They weren’t pony hearts,” she explained. “At least, most of them weren’t. Most of them were insects, birds, insignificant things like that.” My gaping ceased long enough for me to attempt a frown. “That seems hardly efficient.” “On the contrary. Do you have any idea what a lowly ant would do for its queen? Can you imagine the unbridled devotion that fuels its every move?” Her fangs glittered. “It is unlikely to be enough to sustain us when we escape, of course. Still, in the moment, it’s plenty.” “... I see.” I took a step back. “And this will not adversely affect the environment of Equestria?” “Luna, please,” she scoffed. “Haven’t ponies been running the weather and such for thousands of years? I am sure the absence of a thousand hives won’t be noticed.” I was skeptical, but I decided to let the matter go. Thinking along those lines would lead to naught but madness. “If you are certain. But tell me, what is the intended use of this stolen power? It seems unlikely that your people require nourishment for their remaining time in the Dreamscape, considering that they have easily gone without for thousands of years.” “Very perceptive.” Her voice was even enough that I could not tell whether or not she was employing sarcasm. “Currently the love is being used to reshape the Dreams into a form that won’t be swayed by a weak breeze. The shapeshifting itself won’t change, of course, but they require a default form to return to should they lose their energy. I have designed them after myself, of course.” Even as she spoke, a Dream stepped into view, boasting the appearance of a insectoid equine not much smaller than the average pony. In the grip of sickly green magic it carried a huge pulsing crystal, which it offered to its imperious queen. “Your majesty,” it said, voice buzzing. “I come bearing a gift.” Chrysalis took the mysterious item from her subject, scrutinizing mysterious flaws. Then, without ceremony, her jaw unhinged like a snake’s, and she swallowed the crystal whole. This action caused her throat to bulge unpleasantly, though by the time it reached her stomach an unknown organ contracted visibly around the crystal, pulverizing it in the span of a few seconds. “Very good,” she said, smacking her lips. “Fetch me another.” The Dream bowed and scurried off. “We’ll need a new name for our species,” she said absently, not recognizing my stunned expression. “The time of the Dreamscape will soon be behind us, and it would be best for all to recognize this change. Hmm … changelings, perhaps? It certainly has potential.” “Pardon me for my inability to mind my own business,” I finally managed to say, “but is that love energy you are consuming? Not one minute ago, you informed me that doing so was not required while trapped here.” “So I did,” she agreed. “But I never said it couldn’t, or shouldn’t, be done. The energy not being used to transform my people has been converted into a physical form, making it easier to use as fuel for a purpose beyond energy.” “And what would that purpose be?” “Ah, now that would be telling, wouldn’t it?” She winked. “It’s a surprise. Don’t worry your little head over it; you’ll find out soon enough.” “I dislike surprises,” I said sternly. “They attack ponies from nowhere with the sole purpose of imbalancing them. Nevertheless, I shall indulge in your little game so long as it causes nopony any danger.” “Oh, it doesn’t. I promise you that.” Her grin widened. “I think you’ll be very pleased with it, actually.” “It is always nice to know that I am being considered,” I said, preening. She chuckled at that, and we turned our discussion to the finer points of the few summoning spells I have come across that appear to be promising. Perhaps Chrysalis is not such a terrible creature after all. She is, despite her incautiousness, quite efficient—every Dream I encountered last night had been converted into a changeling. How many millions of that species exist, I cannot say, but at least a hefty percentage is prepared for the exodus. Plans are moving swiftly. From what Chrysalis has told me, it is likely that everything will come together in perhaps two or three years, hardly a blink in the eyes of an immortal. By then, my unlikely allies will have assisted me in toppling Sister Dearest from her lofty throne, and I shall usurp that royal seat as my duty demands. Of course, I must wonder what Chrysalis will do with millions of changelings. In the initial promise I made to those unfortunates, I failed to consider that, even with plentiful resources, the landscape of Equestria is not infinite. I have only just realized this oversight, which shames me deeply. But I assume that the queen has a reasonable solution to the problem. I am certain that, whatever that solution may be, it will refrain from being an unpalatable earth-shaking event.