//------------------------------// // Chapter V: The Setup (Part II) // Story: A Princess and Her Queen // by kildeez //------------------------------// Since losing her mother, Queen Chrysalis had grown accustomed to the same set of dreams haunting her subconscious almost every night, only gaining a reprieve on the nights when her sleep was completely dreamless. Not to say that all these dreams were bad, per se, though there was one in particular... Thankfully, tonight’s little tour de force from her subconscious would be one of the more tame, if a bit murkier, dreams. In this one, she saw just a continuing black abyss, darkness drawn over her eyes like a heavy blanket. Sometimes, it was hard to breathe in this dream, but not tonight. Tonight, she was just left squinting into the dark. At some point in the night, the voices started up. They always did in this dream. They were accompanied by far-off sounds and panicked shouts that were absolutely impossible to discern, distorted by some echoing effect from the abyss. One voice always broke through, though. One clear voice, obviously feminine, possibly pony (or just changeling in disguise, to avoid the hissing effect all changeling voices held), but that always rose up from all the others to cry her name: “CHRYSALIS!” And that would be it. She would wake up with her silken bedclothes soaked in sweat, gasping for air. As happened most nights, a quick scan of the sheets revealed fang marks and places where her acidic saliva burnt right through the cloth, like some hatchling mare unable to control their own night terrors. She shook her head with a sad sigh, making a quick mental note to call up the royal housekeepers for another change of sheets. Her breathing calming, the Queen of the changelings rolled over in her bed, not to go asleep again, but to greet an old friend. The other changeling standing at the side of her bed watched her intently; her pale eyes locked on her Queen, though everyone in the hive knew that this particular changeling was blind as a bat. The old changeling looked at Chrysalis from eyes perched under a ragged fin, her marked and dented chitin catching the dim light and reflecting it throughout the room like a disco ball that had been hit by a dump truck. Chrysalis shuddered at the sight of the ancient creature. She couldn’t tell how old this changeling was, but only knew that she’d looked this aged for as long as the Queen could remember. Even as a hatchling playing in her private play room, she could remember this changeling watching her with those same, pale eyes as she discussed signs from the gods with Chrysalis’s father, her jaw clicking and her joints popping with each minor motion even then. “I had it again,” Chrysalis said, not shocked in the slightest by the old changeling’s appearance in her private quarters at this time of night. The Seer always appeared when that particular dream popped up, and Chrysalis had long given up any hopes of understanding how or why. “As I am aware…my Queen,” the Seer replied in a voice like a wrought-iron gate on hinges that hadn’t seen oil in decades, taking a long pause halfway through her own sentence to spit out a bit of phlegm that congealed onto the wall and set as hard as cement within seconds. That voice still made Chrysalis wince, though only slightly and beyond the notice of the Seer (or so she hoped, there was really no telling what this changeling did and did not see). “This is third time…this month.” “Does that mean anything?” Chrysalis asked. “Perhaps…and perhaps not,” the ancient creature scratched at her chin with a twisted, chipped hoof. The pauses for breath in her speech came more frequently now than Chrysalis remembered, but her words still struck her ears with the same resonance as a church bell being rung next to her head. “Premonition dreams…often unclear. However, if they start occurring…more and more frequently…is almost always a sign…that time they concern…is fast approaching.” “And it still means the same as it did before? There’s nothing more you can tell me?” The older changeling nodded. “’I am sorry, my Queen…nothing has changed. Again, all I can tell you…that the moment in the future…this dream concerns has something…to do with causing a pony of great power…great amount of pain. Who that pony might be…or even nature of that pain…I do not know.” “A pony of great power,” Chrysalis repeated, rolling off her bed and sighing as she pressed herself to all four hooves, shaking off the stiffness of sleep. “Still, something to look forward to. I hope it’s Sunbutt, personally. Though I’d settle for that wannabe, Cadence.” The Seer nodded with a tiny smile on her wrinkled lips. “Aye, a bit of revenge…for Canterlot failure would be nice. However…must repeat my warning of last time…” “…That when the time comes, I will not want to cause this pony harm,” Chrysalis interrupted with a roll of her eyes. “So you’ve said, yet you’ve yet to explain why! Why would I not wish a pony any harm!?” She pulled open a drawer in the black, oaken bureau that dominated an entire wall of the room, revealing a selection of crowns waiting for her choosing. “It’s not like they’ve ever done any better for us,” she added more quietly as she sifted through the barely-organized pile of crowns, casting aside the more extravagant Celebration and Special Occasion crowns coated in glittering jewels before finding her trademark, elegant, black, three-pronger, placing it on her head with a near-palpable air of reverence. The older changeling simply smiled knowingly as her aged lips began to weave a tale. This time, there were no pauses for breath, no halts, as if losing herself in the story had added years to her lifespan. “Many years ago, in one of the ancient kingdoms of Zebrica, a young stallion in a small peasant village received a pet chicken for his birthday. ‘Oh, how wonderful,’ the inhabitants of that village said, but the village elder, an old and wise zebra to whom everyone turned to for advice, simply said: ‘We’ll see.” Chrysalis scooped up one of the ornate brushes from her bureau (a gift from Saddle Arabia. Or, at least, a Saddle Arabian Prince who’s lover she had been imponynating) and began brushing absentmindedly, her mind lost in the tale. The Seer’s voice seemed to grow with each word, gaining strength that quickly swept the Queen up within its volume. “A few months passed, and the foal was out playing with his chicken when, in his distracted, oblivious state, he was caught in a rock slide. Though both he and the chicken survived, he was left with a broken hoof that never healed right, leaving him with a limp that would follow him for the rest of his life. And the inhabitants of the village said, ‘Oh, how terrible!’ But once again, the village elder said, ‘We’ll see.’ “A few years passed, and war broke out with another kingdom. Eventually, the king sent runners to every little village in his rule to gather up all the young, fighting-age stallions to go to war, but though the foal was now fighting age, he was left behind because of his limp. A few months later, it was learned that every stallion who had been gathered from that village had been killed in battle. Though they lamented their loss, the village soon realized that had the foal been without his limp, they would have lost every stallion they had in the new generation, possibly losing their village’s future as so many other villages had before. ‘Oh, how wonderful!’ They said over their good fortune, but do you know what the village elder said?” “Let me guess,” Chrysalis said with a wry smile, finally realizing that she had brushed her mane as much as was possible and moving on to the small file she used to sharpen her fangs. “We’ll see?” The older changeling looked to her student, a wise, good-natured twinkle in her otherwise dull eyes. “Do you understand?” Chrysalis nodded. While the older changeling’s tales were oftentimes long and rambling, there was always a lesson to be taken from them. Years of hunting for that lesson amidst the rhetoric and characterization had sharpened her mind to the point where the Seer’s stories only stumped her perhaps once or twice a month now, the lesson coming to her as clear as day while the story unfolded. This time, however, she believed even a hatchling would be able to piece this one together. “The future is always uncertain,” she replied before running the file a few times over a blemish in her right incisor. The Seer nodded proudly. “Always. The future is a disturbed puddle, its bottom only becoming clear with time, as its waters settle and it morphs from what could be and into what is. The only one who can possibly know what is at the bottom of that puddle is she who lives through it, and until then, anything is possible.” “But there are patterns that can help,” Chrysalis retorted, looking at her Seer’s reflection in the mirror. “We can almost be certain that the sun will rise tomorrow morning, as it has for the past thousand years with few exceptions. We can be certain that the nations of the world will continue to argue and bicker over this agreement or that trade deal, as they have since there was more than one nation to argue with one another. We can almost certainly know that the world will continue spinning through space and every species will continue moving in much the same way they have been since the dawn of time, such as the continuing xenophobic hatred some species share with one another.” She finally turned to lock eyes directly with her Seer, her blazing emeralds meeting with the older changeling’s saddened, pale blues. “Ponies and changelings do not get along. Though we require their love for sustenance, they will always only see monsters when they gaze upon our natural forms. That is why we fight, that is why their love must be taken through deception and force, and that is why I will never pity a pony’s situation no matter how miserable, nor should I ever think to lift a hoof to aid one of their number, when they have done no such favor for us in return.” “Of this, you are certain?” “Almost entirely.” “You said almost,” the Seer pointed out. With a surprising amount of agility, she darted around the bed and appeared at the Queen’s side, pressing a cracked hoof to the royal’s chest. “What of that small part of you that I know exists, that bright-eyed little princess I knew of old who told me how, someday, we wouldn’t have to steal love from ponies? That someday, they might just give it to us?” Chrysalis sighed angrily, a faint hiss passing from the back of her throat. “That princess grew up,” she replied. “It’s a nice hope to have, truly, but we can almost be certain it will never happen.” “You said ‘almost’ again!” The Seer scoffed. “Some part of you still believes there is a chance!” Chrysalis finally relented, knowing there could be no hiding any part of herself from the older changeling. Keeping her blazing emeralds locked on the aging creature, she replied through clenched teeth: “While some naïve part of me still clings to that hope, the rest of me knows that the odds of such a hope becoming reality are simply too small. It could never come to pass, never in a million years. The pattern of pony-changeling hostility is just too powerful.” The old sage simply smiled at Chrysalis with eyes wizened by an impossible number of years and whispered: “We’ll see.” Though she fought it, Chrysalis couldn’t help but to feel a smile crack her muzzle as she shoved the old one away. “Oh, come off it, you cheesy old coot!” She chuckled. “There she is,” the older changeling giggled lively. “Whenever she giggles, that little Princess I knew comes out again.” Blushing intensely, Chrysalis sighed and brushed the Seer aside. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, old one.” “You know I do. Why don’t you let that little princess come out and play more often, Chryssie?” The Seer asked, pressing a hoof to Chrysalis’s heart again. “She’s so lonely, locked up in here.” This time, the changeling royal was faster in brushing the chipped hoof aside, even throwing in a derisive snort for good measure. “I should gather my generals. We have much to discuss about our plans in the North,” her muzzle rising haughtily, her eyes grew steely and cold. “You won’t be required, Seer, so if you please…do move along.” The Seer frowned, but nodded stoically. “As you wish, my queen,” she said, bowing as she backed away out the door. Chrysalis sighed the moment she was alone again. Sure, it was true she’d had her hopes when she’d first ascended to the throne, even with the horrible circumstances around that ascension still fresh in her mind. Unfortunately, the world had a funny way of pounding hope out of younglings, even ones as powerful as she had been. There were only so many hate-filled, racially-fuelled attacks a young changeling could take before she retreated underground with her entire race, waiting for the day they could build up the strength to simply take what they needed, biding her time for one strike to seize everything. Canterlot should have been that strike. After seizing the ponies’ treasured capital, disabling their oh-so-perfect princesses, and taking the Elements of Harmony prisoner, she should have had it all in the bag. Finally, changelings would have been able to step out of the darkness. Finally, her people would be able to walk out in the open without fear. Finally…finally… “…we were going to live without fear,” she whispered. She caught sight of herself in the mirror, letting loose with another sigh. Once upon a time, those glowing emeralds staring back at her had been wide and filled with hope. Once upon a time, the changeling she saw had hopes and dreams of a world that lived in peace and harmony, where her people could eat without deception or force, where a young changeling princess could live without fear of discovery or of him, and maybe, just maybe, that same princess could find someone somewhere who could look past the fangs and the chitin and the tattered mane and see something worth loving. “Well, at least one of those played out,” she said, a weary, plastered-on smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. So much had happened in the days leading to her ascension, so much had happened after, and now, that bright-eyed little changeling princess was gone, probably forever. Bah, the old Seer didn’t know what she was talking about. That princess was history. All that was left was the tired old queen before her, free of delusions, resigning herself to a long and lonely existence. She sighed, hurriedly wiping a tear from her face. She had only just finished fully recovering when her door slowly creaked open. “Your majesty?” Another changeling asked as he entered, this one with sharp and angular features and eyes as cold as the frozen tundra, even compared with other changelings’. Frankly, this guy made the rest of the hive look like a bunch of Bushwoolies with pillows and teddy bears duct taped to themselves. Maybe that was why he was her highest-ranking commander. “High General Chickit,” Chrysalis said, acknowledging the changeling with a nod. “Your majesty,” the changeling said, bowing to one knee. His voice, much like himself, was punctual and to the point, without a single word or breath wasted. He was a model of military efficiency. Again, just another reason he was so high up in the military hierarchy that the Queen was his only official superior, even if he still shared power with a few others. “My apologies for entering your personal quarters, but you told me to alert you the moment there were any developments with Operation Snowfall.” “Ah, wonderful,” she said, nodding for him to rise. “And?” “Madam,” the general stood, only to immediately transition into a salute, standing ramrod straight with one hoof across his brow. “Infiltration Team Alpha is reporting complete success. They have returned to the palace with the plans required.” For the second time that hour (a rare occurrence for her), a genuine smile crossed the changeling queen’s face. “As I knew they would,” she replied. She turned to a small, polished brass tube in the wall and pulled out a large, pale-white maggot. Without a second thought, she held the creature in her magic and bit into it, taking a massive chunk of flesh from its quivering, grayish surface. There was a slight hiss like air leaking from a balloon, then the quivering thing laid still in her grasp. The High General didn’t even react except to spare a single hungry glance at the grub. She continued speaking around mouthfuls of meat that she replenished with an occasional bite. “See to it that they get a few days off for another successful mission.” “Of course, my queen,” Chickit replied. A tiny frown crossed Chrysalis’s face upon hearing the bitter undercurrent in his voice. How the high general felt about Bait and Switch was no secret within the hive: whenever he was in charge of picking missions or commanding large-scale infiltrations, Bait and Switch always managed to land the worst assignments, guaranteed to land them in the most dangerous of situations. Not to mention the near-palpable look of disgust that crossed his face at every awards ceremony when the general himself was forced to lay a medal around each of their necks, which was quite often given their success rate. It wasn’t hard to guess why Chickit hated the duo: they were just too different, too eccentric. Of course, it was this eccentricity that allowed them to blend with ponies so perfectly in spite of any shortcomings in their abilities to disguise themselves, but that didn’t keep the general’s hate from growing with every tale of success and every impossible situation that the pair faced. It didn’t help that the general was of the old guard, the changelings that believed every moment where ponies lived free and not as slaves beneath the swarm’s hole-filled hooves was an offense to everything they were supposed to stand for, whereas rumors flew about Bait and Switch occasionally helping ponies during their missions. There was the bank heist in Trottingham where they tore up all the foreclosure records on file and donated a large chunk of their ill-gotten gains to a local orphanage, the infiltration mission in Baltimare where they spent all their time maintaining their cover by volunteering at the animal shelter, the exfiltration mission to Ponyville when they delivered a captured infiltrator to the safety of the Everfree, and then immediately turned around to beat up a couple muggers who had been holding a pony couple hostage. Now, there were even more absurd rumors flying around that this latest mission had ended with them breaking up a robbery for the sake of some mare! Chrysalis never minded these, not even caring if any of them were true or not, so long as the pair returned with results. The general, though... “My queen, if I may be so bold,” he said, finally lowering his hoof. “Perhaps next time, my Praetorian Guard could handle a mission of such sensitivity? While Bait and Switch have seen some success in the past, their…lack of discipline worries me.” Lack of discipline. Right, that’s why those two were always sent to single-hoofedly take on dragon’s nests whenever the high-general had control of the duty roster. “I think we should continue utilizing Bait and Switch to their fullest whenever we can,” she replied, hardly even looking at him, instead staring at the meaty creature in her grasp as she polished it off with a few, final bites, licking her hoof clean. “They seem to blend well with the ponies, regardless of what activities they may choose to carry out on the side. Besides, aren’t your Praetorians occupied with recon to the North?” She could practically hear the high-general’s fangs grind against his lower teeth. “Of course, your majesty. How stupid of me. Truly, your wisdom knows no bounds.” Chrysalis wanted to hand the guy an award for that bit of acting, the kind of award that ponies in too much hair gel sometimes gave one another to feed their own egos while surrounding themselves with red velvet and flank-kissing reporters, but she settled for a nod of acknowledgement in his direction. “Thank you, high-general, will that be all?” “Actually, your majesty, we have one other development in the Operation,” he stood up again, his own seething emotions disappearing as he continued on with his report. “One of our spies within the royal guard reports that the princesses have already determined what was stolen, and have already begun countermeasures against our plans.” The Queen whirled around on him, eyes wide in shock. “Already!?” “I am afraid so, my Queen.” “Oh, great tragedy,” she lamented, a hoof covering her eyes in a dramatic pose that would have made Rarity proud. “Oh, whatever shall we do? The ponies have uncovered our plans, and are surely readying themselves for us! All is ruined! Whatever shall we do!?” The high-general allowed the tiniest hint of a smirk to tug at the corners of his mouth. “Besides carry out Plan B, your highness?” Chrysalis grinned wickedly as she dropped her hoof. “Well, I suppose there’s always that,” she said with a knowing smile and a little shrug. “How are the diggers progressing?” “The tunnels are almost complete, madam.” “Excellent,” she said. "I give the ponies a couple days to determine we’ve stolen the plans to the Empire’s sewer system. With any luck, the Crystal Ponies will have all their resources focused there by the time we’re ready." "Yes, my Queen," Chickit replied, his toothy grin turning wicked. "Too bad our tunnels will be shooting right by them, eh?" "Too bad indeed. Otherwise, Celestia would have scored a great intelligence victory, rather than handing us our own on a silver platter," Chrysalis replied, a hoof running through her mane, feeling the clumpy strands through the holes in her hooves. "Will that be all, Chickit?" "Yes, my Queen." "Good, then return to your duties. Our army will need its finest leader if it is to be ready for the assault ahead." "Of course, your highness," Chickit completed with a little bow before turning to leave, Chrysalis immediately returning to her bureau to complete her preparations for the day. As he left, as if he'd been holding it back all along, the high-general couldn't help but allow a scowl of pure disgust to wash over his face. If Chrysalis had noticed this scowl, she might have uncovered many of the things occurring right under the noses of both herself and her loyal followers. Much would have changed had she seen the plans within plans, the rebellion within the invasion. Instead, all she saw was her general's retreating backside, thinking herself oh-so-naughty for sneaking a peek at the younger changeling's battle-hardened and toned flank. If she had any clue about his oh-so-naughty thoughts, the ones he'd been entertaining since the failure at Canterlot, she would have cut him down on the spot. However, she didn't, and all the players, for better and for worse, proceeded unimpeded. On one side, the white, on the other, the black, and in between, a third side hiding in the shadows that neither would see until it was far too late.