//------------------------------// // Chapter Fourteen // Story: Maternal Instinct // by Magic Man //------------------------------// Maternal Instinct Chapter Fourteen A sitting room in the palace was more for show than anything else, each of the countless brethren competing to be grander and more superfluously ornate than the last. Exotic plants propped up on posh tables filled the air with the tantalizing scents of faraway lands, and works of art hung from the walls for all to marvel. They mainly consisted of countryside oil paintings from within their kingdom, but an artistic expert’s eagle eye could spot the spoils of war amongst them. A set of sofas and armchairs decorated with mulberry silk pillows were positioned in a semicircle around a blue ursa skin rug and in front of a welcoming fireplace in which expensive kindling crackled in the mesmerizing flames. Yet this vast richness mainly pleased the maidens in charge of cleaning, if not the rare foreign diplomats and nobles taking palace tours. The Roachanov family was not exactly the type to hold regular tea breaks and meet-ups together. Many members of the Roachanov family considered themselves too busy to scatter around the palace for trifles unnecessary to their daily routines. All the more off it seemed that four of the most important family members chose to be in the same room for tea. “We’re happy that you’ve come back to us, Chrysalis,” Prince Pincer said from his sofa opposite his nieces as they together in the sitting room, wearing a smile but also retaining a reasonable degree of cautiousness around the eldest. “For a time, your sister and I feared the worst.” Chrysalis mumbled something unintelligible, more preoccupied with staring intently at the crackling grate than anything else. She was sat so slouched, so ungracefully in her sofa it created the appearance of the plump leather swallowing her up. By all rights, this was supposed to be a time for the royal family to come together and rejoice. The news spread throughout the entire palace within the hour, probably less, that Princess Pupa was alive and recuperating well, and the Roachanov clan who had been holding their breath for restless nights could now sigh and shed tears of relief. The Prime Minister and the other cabinet ministers, meanwhile, were sent messages to inform them the potential successional crisis had mostly been averted, at least for the time being. However, such a sensation of overwhelming happiness was strangely absent in the sitting room. Chrysalis told her uncle and sister about her and the Princess’ little heart-to-heart chat in her chamber and Cerci’s release, naturally making sure to leave out some of the more intimate details. While the young servant went about her work, all the worn out mare could do was be with her family. “So how would you say you’re feeling now?” Pincer asked, his hoof idly smoothing itself over the sofa’s fat foreleg rest. “Better?” She mustered up a half-hearted, “Better.” “I am glad to hear that.” It definitely served as an early and much welcomed signal that things were at last returning to normality. The cabinet needed its leader to return and resume her duties as soon as possible. “I feel like… the drugs are finally wearing off.” Chrysalis rubbed the side of her head, which was experiencing the return of a familiar nagging pain. “I might need some more of my…” A stern frown tugged his features. “I can talk to the doctors and have a maid bring some painkillers in if you wish,” he said. “However, if you’re referring to those red pills I know you’ve been taking, I’m afraid my answer is no.” She flinched, shrinking at what she figured was going to be a lengthy reprimand, like that greedy filly who could not keep her grabby hooves out of a cookie jar. The pills were naturally not something she openly discussed with her family what with the backlash and unneeded stress it would cause on their part. Now, in the wake her meltdown, she would not be surprised if they whole palace knew or even now believed she was some sort of addict. Pincer shook his head, saying, “Chrysalis, I honestly thought you to be wiser than doing something so reckless as taking drugs.” “I’ve been stressed, Uncle,” she defended. “They were only to help me cope.” “And yet you could not think of any reasonable alternatives?” “My doctor prescribed them to me as medication. They’re not narcotics or anything like that!” “That doesn’t change the fact they’ve been outlawed in several countries! And what’s more…” He stopped and let out a sigh, thinking before he chose to go from scolding into a full on rant. When he was informed about what his niece had been up to, his initial thoughts were one of incredulousness and anger, but some hours of meditation made it clear for the old Gensui that this really was not as shocking a development as it would be for most families. With the momentous pressure his niece had been under for so long, was it really a shock a dependency like pill-popping had clasped its claws over her throat? Pincer indeed could have reamed into her with a schoolmaster’s lecture about the dangers of careless drug usage and the potential danger she had put herself in. But instead, his wisdom was great enough to tell him this may not have been the best time to scold her. “Chrysalis… I am going to arrange an appointment for you as soon as possible,” he told her with finality. “As understanding and supportive as I always try to be, this is something I cannot abide by for your own best interests. I want to see to it that you receive whatever appropriate treatment before this problem gets any worse.” “Yes, Uncle.” There was no point in her bothering to argue or talk back, nor did she possess the energy. Once Uncle Pincer put his hoof down it stayed down. Furthermore, regardless how she craved the bitter taste of those blessed crimson capsules, it did not mean she was ignorant. She knew full well they were not good for her. “And you will attend.” “I will.” “... Good.” His dim, greyed eye flashed slightly with recollection and decided to move the discussion onto to a lighter note. “Now, on another topic, I do not want you to worry. I have ordered the servants to prepare Pupa’s room for her return. It will be just as it was before...” He got the better of himself and cleared his throat into his hoof. “You know.” “That’s a sweet thought,” she listlessly chuckled and folded her forelegs, “but Cerci will most likely insist on redecorating the room anyway. She knows what Pupa will like.” “Sounds rather territorial of her.” “That’s only rational.” “... would a drink do you well?” Pincer offered as he motioned to the polished, silver-plated coffee pot set up on a small round table. “If you want, I can even have those little cream cakes you like brought in.” “Thanks, Uncle, but I’m not that hungry.” She poured herself a coffee and took a couple of sips but then left it otherwise untouched. The elderly changeling observed the movement in her eyes as they twitched back and forth from the glowing embers to the changeling sitting several spaces away from her on the sofa. All the while, Princess Danauria sat in her own little world, one where the only changeling she shared the sofa with was her dozing son, who was tucked under her foreleg as she played with a turf of mane on the crown of his head. She had been keeping her Morphin close to her ever since his cousin was hospitalized, only letting him out of her sight when absolutely necessary. Her eyes looked up and, for a split second, they met with her sister’s. They were ice cold and piercing as the sharp edge of a sword, which was a huge contrast to the affectionate manner in how she cradled her son. Chrysalis could feel her sister’s scorn like a splash of freezing water in the face and, crestfallen, swivelled around to face the fireplace again with her chin in hoof. Pincer swiftly put it all together in his head and, in no time, decided what had to be done. It was better he gave his nieces their space for them to defuse this ticking time bomb themselves. “I’m going to check on something,” he spoke hastily as he stood up and turned to leave the room. “I shall be back soon.” Pincer had left the room before either sister could open their mouths to interject. Chrysalis mentally cursed the old stallion; a brief exchange between them told both sisters they pretty much had to start talking now. “He’s cute,” Chrysalis blurted, not able to find any other way to approach her sister. Danauria’s leg tightened instinctively around her son and stared at her sister as if she had said something profoundly idiotic. “What?” “I’m just saying Morphin looks really cute,” she said uncertainly, looking sheepish and awkward. “You know... when he’s sleeping.” “Oh! Oh, I’m sorry, so now you’re talking to me!” Danauria snorted, flicking her mane with contempt. “And here I was, sitting here, thinking you told me I was never to speak to you again!” “Daury, I’m so sorry I said all those horrible things to you,” Chrysalis apologized without a second thought. There was not a hint of fight or resistance in her voice, only the utmost sincerity. She took both her dainty, very soft hooves (no doubt from all the imported lotions she used) and gazed imploringly into her stony eyes. “I was in a very bad way at the time, and I didn’t mean a word of it.” “You also slapped me in the face, in case you ‘forgot’.” ‘I hardly touched you.’ For the briefest moment, that was what she wanted to say, but, for now at least, her better judgement was in the front seat and she withheld her tongue. Chrysalis spoke profusely to ensure she was not misunderstood, “I was wrong. So very wrong. Please, Daury, I need you to forgive me. You’re my little sister.” The younger royal still proved difficult to convince. She pried away her sister’s hooves and looked away. In Chrysalis’ point of view it was like she no longer considered her worthy of even the decency of eye contact. Danauria got up from the sofa, facing her tail to her, which writhed angrily like a snake in the dust. Slowly, she walked across the room to the spitting fire place, scooping Morphin up in her magic as she did. She refused to let her guard down around her sister for a moment, especially with her only baby in the same room, and set the colt down in the sofa his great-uncle had used prior. “Sometimes that just isn’t enough, Chrysalis.” Her voice did not drip with anger or hatred, only disappointment. Chrysalis knew it all too well: it was that kind of disappointment only a brother or sister who had truly been let down by their sibling could exhibit. “W-When we were all only hatchlings, have you any idea how much I looked up to you? Not just me; we all did.” She rounded back on her, wiping her sore eyes against her silk sleeve. “You were my big sister, Chryssie! We spent whole mornings playing dolls and dress-up together, do you remember that? We could always rely on each other!” Chrysalis dipped her head into her chest. She and Danauria had never been especially close, save for their halcyon hatchling days when their young lives enabled them time for play. They only drifted apart as they grew up into their destined roles as a queen and a socialite princess. While Danauria was being trained in court etiquette and how to walk with stacks of books on her head, Chrysalis was often taken away by their father for extensive periods of time for her grooming for the throne. It all happened so gradually, they failed to notice it. “Too bad I can’t say the same anymore.” “I remember those days, Daury,” the older sister sighed as she stood up and ambled in her direction. Her eyes lingered on the floor as her gossamer tail dragged along the floor after its owner. “I loved all those times we had together just being children. But we both grew up. We had our duties to perform and there was nothing we could do about it.” She raised her hoof and took her under the chin in a loving manner. “But… I’m still that filly you knew. I’m still your big sister Chryssie, that hasn’t changed.” “Are you? Are you really?” Danauria scoffed, gently brushing the hoof away like it was dirty. “Tell me something: do you honestly think the Chryssie I grew up with would ever hurt the changelings she loved the way you have? Hmm? Well, Chrysalis?” Opening her mouth to respond, she promptly buttoned her lip again and dropped her shoulders apologetically, almost as an omission that her sister had undisputably proven her argument. “No.” “You know something? I’m not just mad about the fight,” Danauria went on, leaning toward her sister, flashing her fangs. The older sister could have sneered at the notion of a beta mare like her actually taking a bite at her. “That filly means the world to this whole family, Chrysalis, not just you or that servant. She’s my niece!” She slapped her hoof against her chest and gestured angrily at the colt curled up peacefully asleep on the leather sofa. “My son’s future wife!” If she were to answer immediately and truthfully, Chrysalis had no idea what she was talking about until the lights quickly went off in her head. The arrangement both sisters agreed to some time after Pupa’s birth in which their hatchlings were engaged to one day be wed and Morphin would subsequently become Pupa’s consort upon the latter’s ascension to Queendom. It had been such a long time, Chrysalis plum forgot all about it. ‘I even tossed her into an arranged marriage without thinking about her interests,’ she brooded with renewed self-contempt. Wearily, she placed a hoof over her face and pulled it down slowly, adding a heavy sigh for emphasis. “Why am I not surprised?! That filly’s the one you should be saving all your apologies for and you know it!” she chastised her, whip cracking her hoof at the door. “You say you’re sorry? Well, how about you go and tell Pupa how sorry you are yourself?!” “I—grrr!” Chrysalis held the side of head and growled in frustration. “I can’t!” “Oh! Of course—” “Could you?!” she cut her off, rebuking. It was now her time to be play inquisitor, having grown tired of being on the receiving of it long enough. “If you were me, Daury, could you bear to look that filly in the eyes after what happened?! Can you imagine what will be in them?” She began to pace anxiously up and down the room. “Only days ago, all Pupa wanted was my love! Who knows what she must think of me now! She’ll reject me the instant I walk in the room!” Danauria watched her sister canter around the room in bewilderment. When she soon had enough, she intercepted her in her ravings, taking her by her the face and giving her a sharp slap to try and bring her back to earth. Chrysalis stopped what she was doing the instant her head snapped ninety degrees. The room fell unsettlingly quiet once again; the crackle of the fireplace seemed to have even faded away. Chrysalis did not show reaction beyond blinking stupidly and nursing her inflicted cheek, which was now blushing bright green. A half-smirk crawled across her muzzle. She noticed how Danauria had remained in her personal space, her eyes boring into her own. Their horns were nearly touching. “Hmm. I think you owed me that.” But there was no indicator of amusement on the younger sister’s face. “You have led armies, you’ve invaded and conquered whole kingdoms, and you’re scared of your own seven-year-old filly.” It was not a question, just a simple iteration of fact and the way she said it that made it sound all the more pathetic. “How did you ever become so spineless, Chrysalis?! ” “Oh, well, how easy it is for you!” Chrysalis shot back. Their horns were scraping against each other now, sending off pink and green sparks. “That you can stand there bold as brass and act like ‘Mother of the Year’ when your son is safe and sound with you! What would you have me say to her, if you’re such the expert?” “Is simply saying ‘I’m sorry’ that difficult for you!” A foalish whine captured the adult’s attention and their arguing came to an abrupt halt. Their eyes fell on Morphin, stirring in his spot on the sofa with discomfort etched on his face. They must have woken him up with their shouting; it actually surprised Chrysalis how he had managed to sleep through it all until now. Danauria was at her little one’s side in a heartbeat, putting one hoof under his head and using the other to tuck him into her bosom. After she cushioned herself onto the seat, she rocked Morphin until his whimpers became occasional snuffles. He opened one infected eye to look pitifully up at his mother. “I had a bad dream,” he whinnied. “Hush.” She smiled a mothering smile, bopping him on the tip of his muzzle. “Mama’s here for you.” Batting his weak hoof against her face, Morphin groaned, clutching his belly with another, “But I’m hungry.” “It’s alright, pumpkin,” Danauria delicately put her lower-half of her foreleg to his mouth so that one of her many holes touched his lips. In no time at all, the indentment gave off a dull pink glow and Morphin’s face livened up as he smelled food. Hungrily, he suckled away at the sweet, sweet secretion of pure love like nectar. Chrysalis, who found herself being largely ignored, watched their tender moment with simmering, restrained envy. It was as if they were viciously mocking her with their display of affection. On the other hoof, it dumbfounded her she continued to nurse love to him at his age. She shook her head, grunting some obscenity and went off to sulk in the corner. Her sister sensed her inner lament, but said nothing. Morphin was the only important thing to her now. He was her kingdom, her domain as a mother, and in her mind and many would agree, Chrysalis had failed spectacularly in that regard. When she believed Morphin was soothed enough and dozing back off to sleep, Danauria’s attention shifted back to Chrysalis. “I’ve always been here for him, you know that?” she spoke coolly, half-whispering so she would not disturb her son. “I may not be ‘Mother of the Year’, but no matter how busy I am, I make the time for Morphin, and that’s more than anychangeling can say about you.” Not a word. The Queen only returned the sour glare out the corner of her eye, her arched back not even flinching from that last biting remark. “You’re really sorry, Chrysalis? Prove it. Go to Pupa now and say you’re sorry.” She talked over her firmer when she attempted to interject. “No big speech. No dancing around the bush. Just tell her what she needs to hear, because right now, that’s all you can do.” Once again, she received only silence from her sister, whose frown faded away as she digested her what she said. Danauria took note of this. Sighing with fatigue, she finished in a tone noteworthily softer, “You’re always going to be my sister, Chrysalis, nothing can change that. Don’t make it any harder for me to forgive you than it already is.” Five solid minutes went by until Chrysalis at last shifted from her spot. There was an unspoken decision made, one sister understanding perhaps a bit better the wreckage that had become of the other’s life. Though Chrysalis still felt the gnawing fear in her soul of what her daughter might think of her, she realized Danauria was in fact right. They exchanged one last look before she tossed her tail and strided out the room, leaving the stunned mother alone with her colt. Danauria, sensing a twinge of regret, may have said something to stop her and bring her back if not for another whine from Morphin taking her priority. She moved her leg to his mouth, allowing the poor thing to latch onto the largest hole he saw and suckle some more. Decades of service in the Changeling Kingdom’s royal army had trained Pincer to endure high pressured situations and intense duress. All changelings in their oversized and teetering army, whether they were high-ranking officers or conscripted peasant soldiers, were required to have nerves built of steel so as to ward off all external and internal threats to their beloved homeland. If you had not that, you were barely considered stallion enough to clean out the latrines. In his lifetime Prince Pincer had faced down legions of foreign armies and wild beasts the likes of ursa majors and manticores. He thwarted overzealous rebels' attempts to undermine the state—and that was only the tip of the iceberg. Now it was the smouldering anger of a fluffy pony princess that left this battle-scarred Gensui feeling only two feet tall—and her heavier frame had nothing to do with it. The tragedy that beset his family had pushed any thoughts about the ponies who were toiling in the palace back into the farthest region of his brain, even when Celestia, of all the ponies on this earth, arrived at their gates. At least unless she took command of scared, overwhelmed palace guards, filling the kitchen with subjects of her own species and introducing soldiers to paperwork. At least thirty ponies, Heavy Duty near the front, stood together in a semi-organized huddle in the palace kitchen where they had been summoned. The group itself was made up of mares and stallions ranging from their early twenties to those in their sixties and some even wearing uniforms befitting palace staff, though they all shared a similar dirty, malnourished appearance. Most did not look as ragged as Heavy did, but the indications of love-draining were certainly there. They looked with visible worry at Princess Celestia and Prince Pincer, who were standing across from each other at the kitchen’s preparation table, neither looking directly at the other. Celestia occasional nibbled on the two pickle, seaweed, mustard and mayonnaise sandwiches she had prepared for herself, while everypony and anychangeling patiently waited for a guard to arrive with the files in tow as per the Princess’ request, or rather command. For the ponies, it was like watching the world’s most uncomfortable game of tennis, waiting for something, anything to happen, be it even Prince Pincer’s head suddenly exploding into a thousand little chunks. No such thing happened, thank goodness. Regardless, everypony including Prince Pincer could sense the unnatural heat radiating inside the contained room. The temperature gave the impression to be mirroring the Princess’ mood: the air had become distinctly humid and some could swear they saw condensation on the white kitchen tiles. Pincer wished he never departed from his nieces. He was approached in the hallway by a pair of grim-faced guards shortly after he excused himself from the sitting room. They told him the Princess required his or preferably Queen Chrysalis’ attention at once. Thinking his niece did not need this right now and guessing it something unimportant, he chose to go with them in her stead. He could not have been more wrong. They informed him, to his gut-churning horror, that the situation was worse than he thought. They arrived at the hallway outside the kitchen to see the ruler of Equestria was indeed in a discussion spiralling out of control with a changeling mare. Worse still, just as the guards said, she was a cabinet minister! She was a junior minister who, like some of her peers, had a room rented out for her in the palace. Skulking around the palace was an old practice for changeling ministers, younger ones in particular, as they sought out any opportunity possible to slip their way into into the royal inner-circles, usually through being in the right place at the right time. With the recent political supernova, Pincer was not at all surprised that some has chosen to hover around as close as possible as opposed to being with the friends and families. The hapless mare had been in the midst of rambling incoherently, almost frantically at the bemused leader of her country’s political enemies. The closest thing Pincer had made out was how she “knew nothing of ponies or any in the palace!” and she “had no idea what she was talking about!” He actually had pitied her; she had been completely unprepared for anything close to this. Pincer had interfered quickly before it turned into a complete mess, first apologizing to Princess Celestia for the confusion, then comforting and reassuring the visibly distraught minister. After he ordered the two guards to escort her back to her room, he politely readdressed the Princess to find she was less than pleased, for reasons he figured were beyond the rudeness of an official. One could only imagine the unadulterated fear that must have been coursing through the old stallion’s veins caused by standing in that kitchen within the Sun Goddesses' peripheral vision, abandoned by the rest of the world. The kitchen doors creaked open and in walked the guard. A breeze of colder, fresher air blew into the dense room with his entry and broke Pincer out of his fear-induced trance. The guard levitated a heavy stack of thick files by his side, as per his orders, and kept his head bowed the whole time. Quickly and quietly, he set them in front of Celestia and backed out of the room, looking relieved to be getting as far away from the Sun Princess as possible. These were personal files on all the ponies who were working within the palace. “Thank you. Now...” After she finished one of her sandwiches, Celestia magically took three files from the top of the stack and began looking through them simultaneously, asking Pincer evenly as she did, “I take it these are all of them then? These ponies, I mean.” She jabbed a hoof at the mass of ponies whose individual files she was examining to her right. While she did not sound particularly angry, the distinct lack of usual warmth in her voice was obvious to everypony in the room. “No,” Pincer answered, carefully thinking about his next choice of words. “There are some more ponies. I think they’re presently doing chores out in the city.” He performed a mental check and added before she could ask the inevitable, “There cannot be more than a hundred and fifty ponies working and residing here.” “You’re certain?” “My memory is keen.” The changeling did his best to conceal his frayed nerves threatening to snap. Celestia went back to reading the files, her gorgeous but stern magenta eyes darting left to right with a typewriter’s speed. Her research was only interrupted when she took occasional nibbles from her second sandwich. She soon picked up on the anxiety saturating the kitchen and set the files down again. “Your Highness,” she addressed him again, almost sighing. “I want to reassure you I’m a mare who much prefers to listen before she leaps to conclusions. Now my sister on the other hoof…” her voice trailed off, inwardly shuddering as she recalled some of Luna’s more ‘intense’ moments. “But in either case, this is a very serious matter, as would be any situation concerning my little ponies. I think you’ll agree that I require some explanation.” Pincer steeled himself and said, “I wish only to clear up any misunderstandings you have.” “You’ve told me these ponies,” the Solar Princess drew out slowly and gestured her slippered hoof to the assembly of ponies, focusing on keeping her temper in check. Though she may have been willing to listen, that did not mean her anger had simmered down entirely. “That they are servants for the palace?” “They are indeed.” “Strange. I honestly couldn’t imagine, considering current relations between our kinds, changelings hiring ponies as house servants.” “We have had ponies working for us at the palace for many years, Princess Celestia. I can guarantee you they are given the same tasks and living arrangements as their changeling counterparts.” “I will have to take your word on that, but… this is where I’m rather confused,” Celestia cocked a brow and reopened one of the three chosen files again to demonstrate, “because it says here, at least for the ponies I’ve read about, that they’re currently serving sentences for criminal offenses in your kingdom.” This was the part Pincer knew was coming and dreaded all the same. What he said in the next few minutes and how he said it might very well have grave ramifications for him, his niece and the two kingdoms as a whole. He bit the bullet. “That is... correct.” She tilted her head and asked, still confused, “If that is the case and these ponies are in fact your legal prisoners, then why do you keep them here in your palace? Shouldn’t they be serving out their sentences somewhere more appropriate, like a prison?” Oh, what Pincer would not have given to be on a battlefield right now. Anything to put an end to this conversation would be welcomed; maybe a maid barreling through the door crying ‘fire’ or Celestia just incinerate him already with all the alicorn wrath she was undoubtedly hiding behind her cool visage. Caressing the base of his enormous horn where an aching pain was located, he groaned, “Princess, that is because, in lieu of actual jail time, they are all serving their sentences here instead. As servants.” Celestia did not reply to this revelation for the longest time, staring at him with the simple confusion of a young filly having been told where foals came from. When it all clicked, her hard eyes softened up and she gave him a nod of understanding. “You’re referring to ‘indentured servitude’.” “More or less.” She looked toward her little ponies, most of whom were still trembling, knowing their fear and awe were directed more at her than Pincer. Not every pony in their brief lives had the golden chance to see their Goddess Princess in the flesh, and it left all those in the kitchen short on breath. Celestia knew this kind of reaction from her subjects all too well and was used to it by now, despite how much she wished she could change it. Her gaze centered specifically on that same ragged pony she first encountered in this palace. “Heavy Duty, could you step forward please?” All eyes fell on the put upon earth pony who now had the misfortune of being put on the spot twice. The wretched stallion looked to his compatriots for some kind of support, only to receive a short, sharp shove in the flank forwards. Heavy Duty came hither and prostrated himself before Celestia, wordlessly pledging his loyalty to her as his natural Princess and only ruler. She rolled her eyes at such needless groveling and instructed him, “Stand up, please. I need to ask you some questions, and I need you to answer them truthfully. Will you do that for me, Heavy?” She sent Pincer a sideways glance to warn him not to interfere in this. “I wouldn’t tell you anything but, Your Majesty.” “Heavy, tell me,” she said as she levelled a friendly smile at him, “what crime did you commit while you were here?” “I…” Heavy’s knees remained half bent and he sunk his head to the floor, trying to hide the look of shame on his face. He seriously regretted his sanctimonious display of loyalty now. “I committed a robbery, my Princess.” “Go on,” she encouraged. He loudly swallowed what had to be a jagged rock jammed in his throat and pitifully regaled his story against his will, “Three years ago, I was travelling outside Equestria. It’s something I dreamed of doing ever since I was a colt. I-It was going fine… until one day, I realized I’d strayed far from the course. I… I don’t know what it was; maybe my compass broke or I’d misread the maps and taken a few wrong turns. All I know is I eventually found myself here in the Changeling Kingdom.” Thick beads of sweat formed on his brow as the pain and humiliation he felt over the whole affair were being brought to the forefront. “It only got worse when I found out I’d been pickpocketed. I’d no way of getting back home! I was stranded in some forsaken village in the middle of nowhere without a single bit to my name!” “It sounds like you were in a dreadful situation.” “Oh, it was, Princess. I didn’t know what to do. I got desperate so…” The stallion harnessed whatever courage he had left to look her in the face. “So I broke into a house one night and tried to steal some money, just enough so I could get home, I swear.” Instead of expressing her disapproval of his universally contemptible act, however desperate his circumstances apparently were, she asked, “And you were caught and arrested?” She perfectly understood this was not something he was proud of or even comfortable talking about, but it was necessary she heard this straight from the pony’s mouth in order for her to help her subjects. “Yes. The changeling who lived there discovered me and he attacked me! The Royal Guard—their Royal Guard—then showed up and took me away. So they put me on trial: they said I was getting four years in prison for my crime. After that, I was brought here to the palace and they told me this was how I’d be serving my sentence.” Celestia took the time to process all he told her, hooves to her lips and eyes unwaveringly fixed upon him. This grown stallion who was old enough to have his own foals looked more like a vulnerable colt himself. She had half a mind to give him a hug. “I am sorry to hear what you’ve been through, Heavy,” she told him sympathetically as she stroked her hoof along his coarse mane. “Tell me a bit about your experience here. You look quite pale.” Rubbing the back of his neck which long suffered from stiffness, Heavy went on to explain nervously, “Oh, oh well, it’s like Prince Pincer said himself: the royal family does treat us fairly. We don’t do any more than the changeling servants do. I mean… we clean, we cook, some of us even take care of their children… P-Princess?” His ramblings fumbled away once he saw Celestia, her eyes narrowing in on him in an analytical manner, slowly and gently reaching out and touching the side of his neck; she was examining the small prick marks, barely visible to the naked eye. “Excuse me, Heavy,” Celestia drew out another breath, diverting her attention back to the old changeling and asked him reproachingly, “How often are these ponies being fed upon?” There was no use in him denying it. Any idiot could see that these ponies were having their love drained from them, let alone the alpha pony herself. She had already put it all together and all but essentially had him caught in a snare. All the defeated stallion was able to do was play ball and answer her questions. “Only once a week… so they are kept healthy and may retain their strength.” “And this is the reason you have pony prisoners sentenced here.” “One of the reasons. Yes.” “Princess, wait!” somepony all of a sudden called out, eliciting a quiet collective gasp from the ponies and earning a concerned glance from the royals. A gangly young earth mare as thin as a matchstick had broken through the group. She approached Celestia hesitantly, saying, “I know how upset you must be, but please, Master Pincer has always been kind and fair to us. If you’d ask anypony here, you’d know he hasn’t fed on any of us, not even once.” She waved her hoof back at her fellow ponies, some of them nodding or mumbling in agreement. “I cannot speak for everypony here, but considering the reasons some of us are here, the Royal Family have treated us far kinder than you would expect.” Though the calm, stoic expression on her face did not show it, Celestia was taken aback by the pony’s willingness to defend her changeling masters so readily. It would be easy for anypony to write off her actions as acting out of fear or even Stockholm Syndrome. However, the fair Sun Princess was able to see genuine sincerity in her and her fellow ponies’ eyes as she pleaded to her; one could tell a lot from the inflections in another’s orbs. Just to be safe, she silently cast a spell checking for any trace of magical influence at work. She was satisfied to find none. “I’ve no doubt Prince Pincer has been a kindly master to you,” Celestia said, putting an end to the awkwardly prolonged silence. Her mood improved significantly: the humidity in the air was receding and becoming breathable once more. “And I admire your willingness to take responsibility for your actions.” She then added with a twinge of sternness lingering in her voice, “That being said, that doesn’t change how this has all been happening under my muzzle, that and the appearance of some of you still has me concerned.” Following another pause, she shifted back to Pincer one more time. “Your Highness, I would like to thank you for your honesty and cooperation. I know this has been far from the most convenient of times.” ‘I doubt I had any other choice but to be honest,’ the old stallion thought, albeit basking in a newfound sense of relief he was experiencing. He replied simply, bowing his head, “It is well within your right to look out for your ponies’ interests, Your Majesty. I would not expect anything less. If you would like my help in any other way…” “Appreciated. I’ll be needing to have words with the Queen, that is, once she’s available. In the meantime, my ponies? I would enjoy having discussions with more of you, perhaps in more comfortable surroundings.” A sea of heads all together nudged in the elder royal’s direction. Pincer gave them an assuring smile and a hasty nod, giving them his permission. As he watched everypony shuffle out of the kitchen in the orderly fashion that years of working for the grandest estate in the land instills in one, and when the end of the last brightly coloured tail vanished behind the ajared door, the solitary bug pony was overcome with a wracking shiver. It was not the shiver of terror one experiences when standing alone in a dark, murky corridor. His was a combination of both relief and abiding anxiety. It was the kind one experienced when an impending cataclysm stays pending and said individual is left worrying when or if it will ever come. At least for now, the mythical alicorn wrath that struck fear in the Dragonfly of the East, Carrier of a Manticore’s Heart, had been reburied within the Princess’ fluffy white exterior. He prayed it stayed buried. “Her village hailed her as their brave new champion and her deeds were heard far and wide across the land. Years later, she and Locus were wed and together, they bore the most beautiful, plentiful brood of hatchlings ever borne.” Cerci turned the last page and shut the beautifully decorated tomb of changeling fairy tales. She tenderly stroked her filly’s head and whispered in her battish ear, “That filly who went up the dragon’s mountain had came back down a mare. The End.” Pupa gurgled in her nanny’s loving forelegs. She was presently feeding from one of the larger holes indented in the mare’s smooth, slender leg, sucking up the oozing pure love like a hummingbird drinking its weight in nectar. Her plush ladybug had fallen aside and unceremoniously laying face down on the quilt which bobbed with the changeling’s movements. High up on the stained glass window seal perched Philomena, the phoenix long forgotten by the changelings, watching them from her safe spectator’s distance. There was no chance of Cerci letting her get anyway near her Princess without blasting her into a well done spit roast. They woke up from their cat nap not too long ago and before long, Pupa was already whining for Cerci to feed her. She never did fully outgrow the notorious ‘hatchling appetite’ phase where she required nourishment around the clock. Cerci contemplated fetching a nurse to wheel in some of that love soup, but Pupa only clung to her tighter whenever she tried shifting from her spot on the bed. That was how she eventually gave up and chose to just feed her the ‘old-fashioned way’. It had been such a long time since Cerci nursed Pupa on her pure love, back when she was only a grossly overfed beachball of a hatchling. Oh, how Pupa missed this! The pink treacle was still as mouth-wateringly sweet as she could remember. It had been one of those shared experiences that Cerci had to inevitably put an end to at some point, but right now, she could not give a damn. And what was better than feasting on love than an enchanting story to boot? While she had been rotting away in that dank hellhole, Cerci was at such a low where she genuinely believed she would never have the chance to read Pupa a story ever again. She certainly appreciated it all the more, considering how only days ago, she was lamenting how the child had been traumatized by tales of evil water monkeys. From this point onward, she swore she would read her filly a story whenever she desired. “I know how much you love that story, sweetie,” she chirped to Pupa, who was still mindlessly lapping up the sappy substance she was secreting, becoming full and content with every nourishing drop. The result was leaving Cerci feeling a tad drained, but not so much so she felt at all disoriented. “When we get back to the palace, I’m gonna set your room up the way you like. I’ll even get back your old crib out if you want.” Her belly now plumped up with its translucent plates giving off a pinkish glow, Pupa stopped nursing and let out the tiniest burp. She sunk deeper into Cerci’s motherly bosom, ignoring the increased snugness of her bandages. The prospect of napping in her crib again had her excited. The thick secure bars, her creepy crawly mobile playing a melodic tune and her snuggly blanket tucked up to her chin always made her feel safe and sound. “Did you enjoy your meal, baby?” Cerci’s hoof danced fawningly through her mane, which could have done with a thorough brushing. She picked up the muffled ‘uh-huh’ emanating from her fur. “If you want…” she took her by the chin and tilted her head upwards, “I could feed you more of my love whenever you want. It’ll be just like when you were a grub.” A flash lit up in Pupa’s harlequin pools. Her bottom jaw dangled open for a couple of seconds before her face stretched out into an ear-to-ear grin, showing off rows of remarkably sharp teeth. Bobbing her head up and down with vigour, she made loud puckering noises with her moistening lips, looking ready to sink her hooks back into a hole again, until Cerci put a hoof against her chest. “Uh-uh, you’ve had your fill today. I don’t want you turning into a little fat bug.” Pupa crossed her legs and pouted in a overplayed show of disappointment. With a sly grin, Cerci took her from under her hind legs and cradled her. “C’mere, I’ve got something better for you…” She then proceeded to, without warning, blow a rich, ripe raspberry in the dead centre of her plated belly. Pupa threw her head back and burst into an interminable fit of giggles with some excess spittle flying out her mouth. “You like that! Who’s my baby? Who’s my baby?!” The filly could only shriek and writhe helplessly; she was trapped and Cerci was merciless. Assault followed assault as her muzzle darted in to drop another raspberry bomb, her sadistic smirk speaking volumes of her treason. ‘I’m your baby!’ was what she wanted to squeal, but only the same infantile gurgles sloppily tumbled out her lips. “You’re my baby! That’s right, you are! You’re my whole world, Pupa.” By all rights, everything in Pupa’s world should have been right again, but somehow it wasn’t. Her favourite nanny had returned to her; she had been fed to her heart’s content while being read her favourite fairy tale, and now she was receiving a visit from the tremendous Raspberry Monster. And yet somehow, deep within her full and jiggling belly, she knew that beyond the walls of this strange room, something terrible was waiting for her. When their laughter finally subsided and they both settled, Cerci was certain she could see, past the cheerful smile, worry still shimmering in her eyes. She set a hoof on her round apple cheek, telling her seriously, “I want you not to worry, Pupa. You’re safe with me. I’ll protect you.” She curled up around and smothered her in another hug, retrieving ‘Lady the Ladybug’ from the bottom of the bed and giving it to her for safe measure. She then spat under her breath and added bitterly, almost dangerously, “I promise, if she even thinks about laying a hoof on you again, ooh, I’ll grab her by her horn and I’ll… I’ll…” Cerci recognised her mistake too late. The dying remnants of Pupa’s laughter were completely extinguished; a shrill and heart-wrenching whinny had taken their place. She could feel Cerci’s rage wash over her, confusing and gripping her with unbridled panic. A mental image of familiar green eyes ablaze with rage, bearing down on Pupa like a looming nightmare filled her thoughts. To make it worse, she was also overcome with a sudden cold flush that was making her nauseous. “Aww, sweetie, I’m sorry,” Cerci reached her hoof down and started massaging a sensitive spot between Pupa’s shoulder blades in a comforting gesture. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Relax, just relax…” “Mmmmm.” It proved to be a pretty effective technique. A tingling sensation running up and down her spine was enough to get Pupa purring like a kitten having the back of its ears scratched. She was at peace again. Poor Lady, meanwhile, had to contend with her antenna being gnarled at her mistress’ leisure. Cerci breathed methodically in and out. Her hoof continued tracing an oval pattern over her plush fur as she thought to herself, reflecting. Witnessing her baby nearly go into a panic filled her with guilt. She should have known better than to talk about her mother in front of her; all it accomplished was reminding the Princess of the most horrifying memories of her short lifetime. Sooner or later, she was going to need to sit Pupa down and have a serious discussion with her about her mother and ‘the incident’. If only she had an inkling of what she, or Chrysalis for that matter, was going to tell her. Then came a rapping from a nearest door, the one glowing around its edges with faint amber. It was heard by them both. Cerci already had a good idea who was on the other side and it made her back go rigid. “I’m gonna go get that, Pupa, you wait right here,” she tucked her back under her covers and climbed off the bed, her normally for show wings buzzing. Pupa watched her hover off yearningly, annoyed that her massage come to an abrupt stop, but more confused by the uncharacteristic tonelessness in her voice. There was something definitely wrong and it coaxed her into holding Lady all the more closer. She saw Cerci opening the door, allowing a stream of bright light to pour into the room and her eyes squinted reflexively. She heard her talking with somechangeling else. They were keeping their voices were kept so hushed it was impossible for her to make out anything they were saying. “... I want to see my little girl, Cerci,” Chrysalis rasped, trying to stick her head through the door, she was unable to muscle her way passed the fiercely protective Cerci, who proved herself a competent barrier given her size. “Just for five minutes.” “Well, right now, she doesn’t exactly want to see you,” she whispered back harshly while he glanced repeatedly back over her shoulder. “Look, this just isn’t the best time. You can come later.” An attempt to shut the door on her was prevented when Chrysalis stuck her foreleg out. She winced from the pain shooting up her leg and fixed Cerci a warning glare. “I’m not going anywhere. I am coming in. You seem to have forgotten that I am still your Queen, Cerci, and I do not need your permission to see my own daughter!” Both mares, equal in their unwavering determined, tried facing each other down, narrowing their cats-eyes and flashing their teeth challengingly. Cerci was the first to back down. She fanged her bottom lip and sighed, “Fine. Wait here.” She shut the door hard on Chrysalis’ face as the latter scowled and tried to protest. The realization of what she just did settled in, and for a short time, her hooves were virtually stuck glued to the floor. A thousand thoughts buzzed through her head; this would undoubtedly be a disaster. The only reason she relented was because, in spite of her bravado and willingness to take a spear for her young charge, Queen still outclassed her in every aspect. At least this route meant less pointless drama. Pupa had grown irritated from her nanny’s absence. She quickly got tired of chewing Lady’s antenna and was barely holding onto her by the time Cerci did return. She expected to be coddled some more, but instead, Cerci lifted her up, sat her on her haunches and draped a leg around her. “Sweetie, I need you to listen carefully,” she spoke to her in the most serious voice in a long time. “In a minute, your mother is going to come in and have a talk with you.” Pupa felt her blood run cold as solid ice before the last of her words left her mouth. Her eyes bugged so much they were ready to pop out their sockets. Her bones, protected by thick layers of pudge, quaked and Lady slipped out from her grasp. Her little heart was palpitating at an alarming rate, turning her breathing into short and frantic gasps. A cracked squeak escaped her lips as she shook her head, for she was trying desperately to force her lungs to scream ‘NO!’ with all her might. This was the last thing she needed right now, therefore, it only broke Cerci’s heart further to cover her mouth and shush her quiet. “Pupa, please, she’s not going to hurt you, I promise.” Pupa did not look at all convinced and if she had to be honest with herself, Cerci was not especially persuaded either. “Don’t worry, I’ll be right here and I’ll hold you until it’s over, okay? Okay?” Choking back a sob, Pupa threw herself into her chest, nearly toppling her over. Cerci let out an ‘oomf!’, her legs flying out and steadying herself in time. She really was a lot heavier than she remembered. “Okay.” She waited for Pupa to calm down and gave her back Lady to squeeze before calling over to the door, “Come in, please.” After a nerve-racking drawn out pause, the door opened and Chrysalis stepped inside the room. Saying nary a word, the Changeling Queen begun the excruciatingly long trek from the entrance to the bed. She hung her swan-like neck low to the ground and allowed her gossamer mane to cover half her sullen face, the other half a relief map of woe and shame. “Hello, Your Majesty, would you like to come and have a seat?” Cerci asked, invitingly patting the space beside her. Chrysalis stopped at the foot of the bed. She peered through the cerulean veil and caught full view of the quivering ball curled up in the younger mare’s lap. Her stomach suddenly felt a million times tighter, like she was wearing a spiked iron corset. She fought against every urge to spin on her hooves and fly out that door as she climbed onto and sat on the edge of the bed. She went to great lengths, though, to ensure there was a significant distance between them. “Thank you, Cerci,” she murmured, not having the stomach to look at either of them directly. For what felt like an eternity of silence ticking away, nochangeling knew what to do next. They probably did not picture themselves getting this far. Pupa stayed curled up in her ball with Lady, praying that her mother would go away soon, while the grownups could only give each other awkward looks. Somechangeling had to break the ice; Cerci figured it might as well have been her. Bracing herself in case she slipped a disk, she wrapped her legs around and hoisted her up. “Pupa… I need you to come out of there now.” Pupa immediately began wailing and, as she unwittingly uncurled from her protective position, clung to Cerci’s kimono, forcing the latter to sigh and pry her hooves loose, however awful it made her feel to do so. “Yes.” Hearing her filly’s cries made Chrysalis cringe and her mane stand on end. She regretted ever having come here. This was not how she wanted it to be. What was she honestly trying to achieve? To prove a point to her sister that she cared? Her personal damnation revealed itself in the terror of her child at the very presence of her mother. When Cerci managed to overpower her, she planted Pupa and her plush in between her pulled up and folded hind legs, keeping her in place by the shoulders. Mother and daughter, after days apart, were left no choice but to face each other. It was as bad as Chrysalis dreaded, if not worse. Her baby’s innocent eyes were normally so lively and full of a hatchling’s wonder; now all she saw was terror. Her lips trembled uncontrollably, getting dribble all down her robe. In fact, her whole body was bristling like a bare tree in the winter wind. The bandages were the most disturbing. Not only did they look unnatural and binding against her squidgy form, they created the eerie effect of them being the only thing holding the child together. It carved a gaping hole in the ageing mare’s chest. Chrysalis tried to make herself appear as non-threatening as she possibly could, hauling the rest of her body onto the bed and resting on her belly in the traditional fashion. After debating it carefully in her mind, she extended a comforting hoof to Pupa’s face with the innocent intent to brush back some stray strands of mane. “P-Pupa…?” Sensing a threat, Pupa hid her face within Lady, using her as a pseudo-shield, and tried in vain to crawl back into the sanctuary of Cerci’s belly. Her rapidly beating heart had risen to her throat, blood pumping in her ears and drowning out the surrounding noise with every dull thud. “No no no, Pupa, it’s okay,” Chrysalis said pitifully, her hoof wavering in midair. “Y-You don’t need to be scared.” But Pupa refused to be fooled. Mother may have sounded softer and kinder, but she knew now it was all a big, fat lie. When her hoof was inches away from her face, she glared up at her and bared her baby fangs. A low, threatening hiss rattled loudly from her throat. Chrysalis recoiled her hoof and gaped at her, stunned into silence. Neither she or Cerci had ever heard Pupa hiss once in her young life. To tell the truth, they would not have believed the tiny changeling had a hiss in her. “Pupa!” a shocked Cerci scolded her. “You do not hiss, young lady, especially not at your mother!” The filly physically shrunk under her nanny’s strict tone, head lowered and ears splayed against her skull, ashamed of herself. For a moment there, just a moment, she strongly thought about biting her mother. Although her daughter’s outburst temporarily deterred her, Chrysalis brushed it off and went for a different approach, in which she cautiously lifted and caressed Pupa’s withered, tightly wound leg. This time, she was offered a lot less resistance. The sight of her own handiwork was enough to force tears from the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back. She handled the limb with the tender loving care a parent should her child, and trailed the tip of her hoof along through her fur, being careful not to irritate the bandaged areas. A tickling sensation shot up the her leg and throughout her body, in turn earning a giggle or two from the filly. Chrysalis raised her hoof. “Hmm?” She tucked the mane strands back behind her ear, only proceeding to stroke her cheek once she received a hesitant nod. All of Pupa’s muscles tensed up and her tummy lurched at her mother’s hoof coming in contact with her cheek. She anticipated only a vicious smack that would leave her skin screaming bright green. Quite surprisingly, she found her mother’s touch warm and caring. It was actually pretty nice, so much so Pupa’s taste buds were salivating from the distinct flavour of love wafting off her mother like the alluring scent of the yummy pink soup. No! She shook her head defiantly, reality sinking in. Every instinct in her still urged Pupa to reject and shove her mother away. Rage no longer blazed in her mother’s pupils and her voice sounded near unrecognizable to the one she was used to… but it could not be true. It was a lie, it had to be! She knew what she did! The poor girl was bewildered beyond words. Why was her mother acting like this? To mock her? All she wanted from her was the same love and attention Cerci selflessly gave. Why was that such a selfish thing to ask? Mommies are supposed to love their hatchlings more than anything, she understood that much! And what did she get instead? She ignored her, yelled in her face, and hit her until... Pupa did not want to think of such things. Pupa broke down in loud, heaving sobs, fresh hot tears rolling down her cheeks, gathering on the chin before they fell to the plush surface of her toy in splashes. She yanked her head away from Chrysalis and buried her face into Lady’s shell, who considerately absorbed her tears like a good friend. “Oh! Oh, no, Pupa, c-come to me!” In one quick but gentle motion, Chrysalis swooped her child up from Cerci’s lap and hugged her for all she was worth, allowing her to cry uncontrollably into her shoulder. The knocked around ladybug fell carelessly to one side for the uptenth time. Chrysalis did not bother thinking about her actions; her brain had switched off and her heart was at the wheel. “Come to your mommy, my little hatchling! My precious!” As her filly was essentially snatched away from her, Cerci could hear a distant voice screaming in the back of her head, ‘Get your hooves off my baby!’, but she knew better than that. She covered her mouth, mentally commanding herself to stay out of it. “I’m sorry, Pupa!” Chrysalis did her best to hold back her own tears, trying to remain strong for her, but failing miserably. Besides, she had cried enough for a lifetime these past few days. It was now Pupa’s turn to cry and cry she did. “I’m so, so sorry! I-I never meant to! Shhh…” Her words provided seldom comfort, and Pupa bawled only louder and harder. The bond of trust between them had been shattered, and to her, it was as irreparably broken as some of the toys she abused. Unable to wriggle out of her hold like a maggot caught in a scavengers’ talons, there was nothing more for her to do but let all the betrayal and heartache festering within in her pour out until her lungs went raw. “Mommy loves you very much, Pupa,” Chrysalis whispered tearfully in her ear. Her daughter’s breathing felt hot against her shoulder. “M-Mommy did a… very bad thing. I’m so, so sorry I hurt you!” It took a long time for the filly’s wailing to die down to weeps. Her chest still heaved hard and she had developed a bad bout of hiccups. Tears, saliva and runoff from her muzzle left wet marks on her mother’s shoulder. Their viselike embrace eventually ended and they looked at each other directly again, though their awkward positioning meant their muzzles were inches from touching. “Do you feel better now?” “Hmmm.” Pupa snuffled and tried vainly to wipe tears from her eyes, which had now turned a pinkish-green due to her profuse crying. Her whole face was drenched, as if she had been out in the rain for a long time. At last she made direct eye contact with her mother. Chrysalis smiled and cast a drying spell for her, evaporating the warm tears off of her face until nothing but greenish, salt-stained streaks were left behind. But it was not enough; there was plenty more she needed to say, and even then, she realized they most likely could not take her daughter’s pain away. The Queen took a deep inhale and spoke from the heart. “Oh, Pupa, please believe me, I didn’t mean any of those… disgusting things I said when I… you know. I was wrong.” Anychangeling could tell how much this was emotionally tearing her apart, regardless how much she fought to conceal it. She leaned in and affectionately bobbed the ends of their muzzles together, ignoring the cold stickiness on Pupa’s. “You’re my daughter. You’re my little Princess. And I can’t say I’m sorry enough for not treating you like it.” Pupa was stunned and her nanny possibly more so. An admission of fault coming out of the mouth of a proud, supposedly infallible creature as the Queen of the Changelings was something inconceivable, at least that was how Cerci and countless changelings were brought up to think. The love bubbling in Chrysalis’ heart for her offspring was palpable, overspilling like a saturated sponge and overwhelming Pupa’s senses. She was shocked above all else to see her eyes were wet; she did not think her mother even could cry. “I’ve wronged you horribly, Pupa, but please,” she pleaded, her voice growing more desperate the longer it took to get a response of any kind. “I promise things will be different from now on. I won’t spend all my time working and I’ll make the time for you.” It was in this moment, when she fully tasted that sweet, mouth watering emotion radiating off Mother’s body, that Pupa realized something: her mother was telling the truth. No tricks. No lies. Nochangeling could fake this. The words tumbled over each other as she steeled herself for imminent rejection. Why should she expect forgiveness? “I can imagine you won’t want to see me for a long time, but all I hope is that you can forgive me one day. You don’t have to, and I perfectly understand if—” Something pressed against her neck and she stopped talking. She looked down. Pupa had locked her stubby and uneven legs around her massive neck in an unprompted embrace. Nochangeling said anything. Chrysalis, taken completely by surprise, looked dumbfounded to Cerci for some kind of hint as to what to do. The mare was surprisingly wearing a beaming smile and silently made cradling gestures to her. Recognizing her error and mentally slapping herself, Chrysalis reciprocated her hatchling’s gesture with gusto, practically engulfing her this time in her bosom. Her most basic instincts kicked in and her viper-like tongue slithered out her mouth, tickling Pupa’s face with light, quick licks just like on that same stormy morning she hatched. All the while, Cerci, holding her hooves over her mouth as her eyes turned misty with joy, witnessed this beautiful moment unfold from a safe few feet away. Their intimacy remained thankfully undisrupted by her presence. Now the healing could begin.