Thunder crashed overhead, rending the heavens with jagged flashes of lightning as pounding rain beat down all around the Everfree Forest.
Nestled among the gnarled trunks of the ancient forest, a little cottage shook with each rolling peal of thunder. Rainwater crashed down over the edge of the eaves, sheltering the cabin’s single occupant. But even inside there was no true escape from the vicious storm. Flashes of blinding brilliance lit the interior while the rolling crescendo of thunderclaps vibrated the very walls themselves with their vehemence.
The blue-pelted earth pony inside the cottage glanced up at a particularly loud rumble of thunder. Running one hoof through his scraggly brown mane, he sipped steaming cider from his mug and placed it carefully back on his coffee table. He turned back to his reading, flipping another page and tilting the book slightly to better catch the flickering light of his fireplace.
The stallion was named Evergreen, and he was, for want of better terms, a forager. He made his living combing through the Everfree Forest for various herbs and such that were almost impossible to cultivate outside of the forest itself. Many of the alchemical concoctions made by the ponies in Canterlot and Ponyville were only possible because of ponies like Evergreen.
Shielded by the howling storm outside by the sturdy little cottage, Evergreen continued to read. He turned another page, blissfully unaware of what was happening outside in the storm as a lone pony struggled through the pounding rain and sweeping winds that whipped the raindrops against her form with stinging force.
Chrysalis was hurt, probably dying. She had never died before... But a heart-wrenching emptiness was growing inside her. She was weak, hurting, and alone. Her army was defeated, scattered and gone into hiding, and she, the Queen of the Changelings, was struggling through a vicious thunderstorm with the last reserves of her power dwindling.
Somewhere in the back of the fallen monarch’s mind—the part of her mind that wasn’t focused on the growing drain on her energies—she was berating herself. She had grown cocky.
It had started so innocently. Chrysalis had seen Shining Armor and Cadance together. Needing a new source of energy, she had simply waited for Cadence to be alone, trapped the unsuspecting alicorn in the crystal chambers beneath the palace, and then feasted on the love Shining Armor had for his bride-to-be.
What a rush!
Never before had the changeling felt such an influx of energies. It had been intoxicating. Invigorating. And, ultimately, corrupting.
Chrysalis’ modus operandi up until that point had been to take the energies of a target for a few days, perhaps a few weeks if it were particularly delicious. It was never good to linger overly long on a single meal. She would then wipe the memories of both parties before moving on. Her tactics were unexciting, but they worked; it was how she survived so long. But this...this had been different. The energies that infused her were so raw. So powerful. She couldn’t resist them.
There was so much love in Equestria. It was just the next logical step for the queen to bring in her army of changelings and share with them the abundant love of Celestia’s unsuspecting ponies. In short order Chrysalis’ brood could have grown unimaginably strong.
The battered monarch could follow her own rationale from the very start, right through to the disastrous decisions that led to her new predicament. Likely her last predicament.
When Chrysalis had been found out, she hadn’t cared. The persistent purple unicorn’s accusations and the ponies’ efforts to fight her and her army had simply been an engaging diversion, a bit of entertainment before the banquet about to be served up thanks to the Changeling Queen’s master plan—or so she had thought.
Now it was obvious that such thoughts had been premature. The power coursing through Chrysalis had corrupted her focus. Had made her cocky. She realised now that they were all decisions made in an intoxicated haze, the poorly-planned-out whims of a queen who was drunk on the finest sustenance she had sampled in ages. High on the simple raw intoxicating power of such a strong love. The Queen of the Changelings had been able to defeat Celestia herself in one-on-one combat!
But then, the weak little princess that Chrysalis had thought was dealt with had returned and shattered the changeling’s hold over Shining Armour. The Queen’s usually oh-so-fine senses, deafened by the roar of the delicious power coursing through her, had failed to notice until far too late that the thundering river of Shining Armour’s love had been dammed and diverted at the source—changed back to its true channel. To Cadance. And then, the magical blast.
What had that terrible force been? Chrysalis had never seen anything like it in all her long years. It had been so intense. It had almost destroyed her. Most certainly had destroyed most of her army. The Queen shuddered at the raw, bloody memory of her fellow changelings’ screams of pain as the terrible blast of force smashed into them like the wrath of gods, crushing some to dust and throwing others tumbling into the atmosphere. It was hard to imagine more than a smattering of her children had survived.
But still the Queen of the Changelings persisted, though every movement was agonizing. It was all she had left. She couldn’t just lie down and die in the rain... But her limbs were getting heavy. It was getting harder to put one hoof in front of the others. Her wings were broken, their delicate membranes mangled beyond recognition. And her magical spark was so faint it couldn’t even keep her warm anymore.
Chrysalis was dying.
The Changeling queen stumbled and fell. She lay, weakening body splayed in the mud for a moment. With a groan that was almost a death rattle she rose shakily to her feet once more and trudged on. She had to keep going. She could not stop now. She—
Sheets of rain drenched the changeling’s shattered body as she tumbled to the ground. Chrysalis landed heavily, the mud squelching wetly and splattering what few places on her pelt had remained clean until now. She did not rise.
There was a cottage ahead, hidden behind swaying trees, but Chrysalis could sense only one occupant. There was no one for her to take the place of. No love to feed upon. This was the end of her story; the end, perhaps, of the changelings. Defeated by the power of love, the very thing they fed upon.
It was perhaps a fitting end, the exhausted queen mused. But the thought of being discovered like this—a mud-caked corpse on display for curious pony eyes—sickened Chrysalis. She would not be found like this. She would die with dignity.
Gathering the last of her magic about herself to change her form, the defeated queen concentrated. Power flared, and the changeling’s form wavered and shifted. As her shape resolved itself into a white Unicorn with a long, flowing blue mane, Chrysalis laid her head down on her forehooves and closed her eyes, letting out a long breath.
There. Any pony who found the body now would believe her to be an unknown unicorn lost to the storm, rather than the dark queen of the changelings. Closing her eyes, Chrysalis let the darkness take her.
Instead of the blissful consummation of the darkness that Chrysalis had been expecting, she was awoken rather rudely by a tug at her mane. The female’s eyes slid open blearily to stare blankly at the pony tugging at her form. He was shouting something, but it was lost to the howling of the wind and the peculiar rushing in her ears.
Everything was so distant to Chrysalis, from the touch of the stallion’s hooves against her mane to the rain pelting her form. The omnipresent numbness even dulled the piercingly cold shards of pain slicing into the changeling as icy rain splattered into her open eyes. Her power had left her, and now it was time to dwindle away. In a detached sort of way, she admired how the pony tried to help her in her last moments, dragging her limp form across the ground towards the front door of his cottage, gripping her mane determinedly in his mouth, aided and abetted by the slick grass and mud underfoot, while also hindered by the same.
With a rough kick, Chrysalis’ would-be rescuer slammed open his door and bundled her limp form across the threshold and onto the warm wooden floorboards.
Chrysalis felt herself splay out in a wet heap—so undignified for a queen—and tried to lift her head to berate the pony for his foolishness... but the darkness gathering at the corners of her vision called to her, begging her to close her eyes and dive down into its inky depths. And so she did.
Everything hurt.
From the tip of Chrysalis’ nose to the bottom of her hooves, everything hurt. There were even phantom pains in her wings, even though they technically no longer existed.
Blue eyes fluttered open and a faint, helpless groan left Chrysalis as she tried to shift, her muscles all aching as though she had sprained each one individually. Her head was pounding, and her throat was dry, and she was cold.
The warm weight of a blanket was wrapped around the changeling and she was close enough to the fireplace that steam was slowly wafting from her moist fur..
“Don’t move,” a concerned voice said. A mug was pressed against Chrysalis’ lips, with some kind of hot, spicy liquid. Automatically, she drank even when the beverage burned her tongue and throat. The pony tried to draw the cup away when she winced, but she lifted a hoof doggedly to hold it against her lips. She took several long gulps of the burning liquid, letting it burn and singe within her chest as though a raging inferno. It hurt. Her entire body hurt. But the pain was good. The pain let her know she was still alive.
Chrysalis opened her mouth to try and frame words, but all that emerged was a weak rasp and then a ragged cough. The world tilted crazily, and she laid her head on her forehooves for a moment to try and gather whatever energy she still had remaining. Her eyelids were heavy, and the numbing, seeping coldness about her form was trying to drag her back down into blissful unconsciousness. Her shivering had stopped; not a good sign. She moved closer to the fire, and felt a small flame leap onto the blanket.
The pony gasped and beat the flame out with a hoof, pulling Chrysalis away from the fire a few inches and scolding her. She wasn’t able to make out the words he was saying over the renewed rushing in her ears and she shook her head, trying to scowl up at him. How dare he use that tone with her!
As the incensed changeling looked up, her vision flickered, and the rushing in her ears rose to an all-consuming roar. Chrysalis’ chin hit the floorboards, and the darkness took her once more.
Consciousness was fleeting for Chrysalis; it was so hard to stay awake, and she was so weak. It was just so easy to give into the darkness and allow it to sweep her away on gentle wings into a state of blissful ignorance of her worldly form. But her consciousness kept intruding, forcing her to wake to a world of cold discomfort and stinging pains. Yet each time, she could stay awake a little bit longer. Feel her body growing dryer and warmer. The cold of her limbs was fading, but the permeating cold inside was still there. An empty, yawning pit of need that could only be filled by a love far from her flimsy reach at present.
As coherency returned to Chrysalis’ thoughts, she began to feel afraid. She was weak, powerless, and inside a strange pony’s home. She felt exposed and vulnerable, like a newborn foal just taking its first steps in the world. Depending on others was not something that the Queen of Changelings was used to, or would tolerate.
The pony who had rescued Chrysalis was sitting in front of the fire as well. He was shivering, his clothes spread out in front of him to dry while he huddled up as close to the fire as he dared. The blue stallion’s head was bowed and his eye closed. He might have almost looked relaxed if not for the way his entire form shook, wracked with shivering as his muscles spasmed in an attempt to get warm. The only blanket he had was currently wrapped around her form, she realised.
Scowling to herself, Chrysalis summoned the effort to stand, swaying unsteadily and stumbling a moment, moving clumsily over to the pony and dropping in an untidy heap next to him. She had just enough energy to manage to push the blanket over his shoulders before she felt that all-encompassing darkness trying to muscle in and drag her back down into unconsciousness once more. She had to pause for several moments, to let the darkness pass.
Chrysalis scowled at the pony as he shivered and pressed closer to her gratefully, trying to share the warmth of their bodies together.
Chrysalis felt nothing for him, but if she could leech enough energy from him, she might survive. She would have to convince him to like her. It wouldn’t be enough to keep her going for long... But it was enough to survive. And if he died of hypothermia, then she would die along with him.
Chrysalis pressed closer to the pony and laid her head on her forelegs, closing her eyes to rest. She tried to formulate a plan for a few moments before giving up and just letting the darkness take her away again.
She would roll with the punches. It was all she could do now.
Sunlight awoke Chrysalis and she groaned faintly, stirring and trying to move. Energy suffused her body more readily, and the dangerous darkness receded back from the strength of her consciousness. Full thought returned to her and she shuddered at how close she was to just losing it all.
Chrysalis had almost died. Even now she was still hovering on the precipice of a total energy failure. She had to be careful. No magic, no shapechanging. Not until she had more energy.
Chrysalis’s new blue eyes regarded her savior for a long moment and she tried her best to judge him. What did he like? What would make this pony like her? Was he a submissive or a dominant personality? Did he prize feminine attributes or more masculine attributes in his partners?
An array of questions assaulted Chrysalis’ mind, so difficult to answer since she didn’t have a present lover to leech the information from, a pony to take cues from.. This would be difficult. But she only needed a little energy; just enough to see her through until she could take the place of someone else.
The male stirred and lifted his head, blinking the tiredness from his eyes and rubbing a hoof against his face for a moment, curling his neck to peer at her closely.
“Good mornin’ there, you,” he said. He had a rather broad accent: a country pony. “You feelin’ okay?”
Chrysalis narrowed her eyes up at him for a moment at his condescending tone. Her tone was cold as she stated, “I am quite fine, or I would not be conscious.”
The stallion recoiled slightly at the tone of her voice, edging away from her until he could worm out from under the blankets. He grabbed a block of wood from besides the fireplace and tossed it in the pit, vigorously stirring the embers with a fire poker before sitting down in front of the fire.
“Gotta thank yer, miss,” The stallion said with an incline of his head towards her. He patted the place next to him. “Come up here where it’s warmer.”
Chrysalis stared at the dumb woodspony for a moment, mildly confused and irritated with his words and his horrible accent. She scowled as she said, “Thank me? I have done nothing of note in between my bouts of brief consciousness.”
“Well, yer kept me warm last night and didn’t have ter do that,” the stallion pointed out. “My momma always said I should thank kindness wherever I find it.”
Chrysalis shuddered as she tried to lift herself to her hooves, feeling just how heavy her limbs were now. How painful it was to move. It was a struggle to rise, but the pony was there to help her up, placing his nose under her chest to support her
An incensed growl left the changeling and she pushed at him with a hoof.
“II can do it myself!” Chrysalis hissed, outraged that the pony would dare touch her. Physical contact while in her changed forms made her feel uneasy, and the last thing to touch her true form—a rabbit—had met a grisly end at the point of her horn. Even when the changeling was rewarded with the power of love from physical contact, she still abhorred it. It was a means to an end.
The pony drew back at the mares rebuke, and nodded slightly, settling her down in front of the fireplace. Chrysalis harrumphed, trying to lower herself gently and ending up just thudding down onto her chest with a wince. She really was still weak and this oafish male wasn’t helping at all! There was only a tenuous thread of energy connecting them. She had gotten stronger hits from passing stallions admiring her when she had in her guise as Cadance.
Chrysalis rested her head on her forehooves, finding it too heavy to lift any more, closing her eyes and trying to steady her breaths. She felt as though she had run a marathon.
“Yer must be one of those royalty bunch, eh?” the pony inquired, resuming his position beside her, next to the fire.
Chrysalis inched away so that his forehooves wouldn’t brush her.
“I...Yes, how did you know?” Chrysalis asked, doing her best to seem admiring of his skills in deduction. If she wanted to make him like her, now was the time.
“Yer have some real trouble accepting help. Yer all high-strung and haughty, like we’s all supposed to bow to your every whim, and when yer don’t get yer way, yer all turn towards sweet talkin’ to get it,” he said. There was a faint dip in the energy she was receiving from him as he spoke, and she winced inwardly. He didn’t like the simpering kind, then.
“Yes. I am royalty, and... And...” Chrysalis snarled in her mind as she tried to swallow her pride and thank this... This... Country bumpkin for his kindness. But it was so hard. She almost choked on the words getting them out.
“And thank you for helping me,” Chrysalis managed to get out before giving a low sigh of relief in her mind.
The connection between them swelled and she felt her form stiffen slightly as minor jolts of power suffused her. It was still tiny. But it was a start. Like a stream devoid of water, her body absorbed the affection, hungrily demanding more than the tiny trickle she was receiving.
“Well I’ll be. Never thought I’d see the day a high pony such as yerself would be thanking someone like me,” the stallion said, a mild hint of smugness to his tone. “I’ll not apologize fer draggin’ you ‘cross the grass, neither.”
Chrysalis stared at him a moment, unable to fathom his motivations. He had helped her out of the goodness of his heart, where she herself would have watched with a rather morbid glee as the life faded from his stupid, country-bumpkin body. He’d then given her his only blanket and shivered in cold just so she could be warm, and then garnered apparent amusement that he had messed up her coat. He didn’t add up in her mind. Farm ponies were crazy.
“You need not apologize, but I intend to make you help me clean it.” Chrysalis scowled darkly. This pony would learn his place, one way or another. When she got her power back, she would use her magic to make him suffer terribly for every indignity he placed upon her.
“Yer expecting me to put my hooves on you?” the stallion asked with a snort of contempt, rolling his eyes. “I could jus’ kick yer out of here and let yer wander back to Canterlot on yer own.”
Chrysalis stiffened, her eyes widening slightly. If she ended up back outside—ended up alone—then she would die from lack of energy before the day was out. As much as she hated it, this... Thing was her only option. Her last resort.
“Please kind sir, I must ask your forgiveness for my rudeness and beg of you at least some more of your company...?” Chrysalis asked, as modestly as she could manage. Her pride roared at her in defiance, but she smothered it with calm practicality. She would make the pony pay for each and every insult when she no longer required his affection to survive.
The bond between them strengthened slightly, and Chrysalis felt a shift in the energies that were slowly trickling into the immense darkness that was her body.
“Ohoho, Yer gonna ask me all nice like?” the pony asked, a laugh in his tone, “I like that. I could get used ter having one of you high ponies askin’ me fer stuff all nice like. I’ll keep yer around, sure.”
The stallion rubbed his hooves together and smiled at her. “I’m Evergreen. But I want yer to call me ‘Sir’ Evergreen.”
Chrysalis stared at the stallion once more, her eyes narrowing. She longed to blast him with her magic. She felt a burning, consuming need to harm him. But she was still weak. She needed to bide her time.
“Very well... Sir Evergreen.” Chrysalis bit the word off harshly as though she could make it sting him with its vehemence.
The pony grinned at that, stoking the fire again, smirking. “Oh, I think I’m gonna like this.”
Chrysalis scowled inwardly. For now, she would bide her time. But soon, she would be back.
She laid her head on her hooves once more and closed her eyes, letting the darkness take her down into its eager, welcoming depths.