//------------------------------// // The Fallen Queen. // Story: Where the Monsters Live. // by Hopefullygoodgrammar //------------------------------// In her dreams, Chrysalis was in the dark. It wasn’t the dark of night, which was darker on Earth than in her homeland of Equestria. It wasn’t the absolute dark of space, which she had seen stretching before her in an endless vista as the concentrated love of Princess Mi Amor Cadenza and Prince Shining Armor burned into her, its raw power mixing with her own and sundering reality itself to propel her into a new existence. No, this darkness was heavy, but not all-encompassing. There was light somewhere, somewhere that she could not see. There were smells in the air: incense, vanilla, exotic spices and old earth mingling with spoiled meat, animal musk and cigarette smoke, fair and foul blending into a singular, and singularly arresting, whole. And there were sounds, too. Heavy grunting, snuffling, claws clicking on stone, laughter, voices raised in argument, roars of outrage and dismay, the groans of carnal lust, the soft whisper of silk against the earth and the flapping of wings. It was usually when the sounds reached her ears that Chrysalis realized that she was buried alive, her equine form encased in a cold stone sarcophagus. When these dreams had first came to her, a month after she had been banished to Earth, the dream would end there, with her trapped and pleading for a way out, and she would awaken with tears tracing tracks down her grimy cheeks. But, as time wore on, the dream lengthened and she was left to contemplate her predicament. And it was in this solitude that she would inevitably think back on the day that the last voice faded away. As Queen, Chrysalis had been connected to her children and subjects via thousands of unseen, intangible tethers, each one serving as a psychic telephone line that allowed her to hear the voices of her fellow changelings and experience their emotions. There had been rules, of course, she had allowed them their privacy, had allowed them to keep their secrets and talk amongst each other. But their presence was always felt, no matter where she was, she was always connected to them, and the thought had comforted her in the moments when everything else around her was quiet. But then came the failed invasion, and she had been thrown from her world and into one without magic, stranded and unable to come to her subject’s aide. And so she listened as their voices, pleading and desperate, faded into a silence that was more profound and stomach-churningly sorrowful than any heartbreak or sadness that she had partaken of in her years as an infiltrator. Her children were gone and she was alone, utterly alone. And she felt the full sting of that reality not as a heaviness, but as an emptiness that no amount of feeding could sate. And, in the emptiness that crept up upon her in that dark tomb, there also came a name, one which always woke her up when it came to her in the darkness…. “So, how are you feeling today?” Chrysalis slouched back in the chair with a heavy sigh. It had been a month since she had been picked up by the human authorities and transported to the facility, and it surprised her that her human guise had held up as well as it had. She had to admit a certain admiration towards the humans. She had been standing on the rails of a bridge, watching the moonlight dance across the dark, foaming waters below. She had expected to be allowed a few moments of contemplation, a minute to pray that her children would forgive her, before she threw herself into the cold waters below. But then came the voices, raised in alarm. She had tried to block them out and take the step out into nothingness, but the humans had pulled her down before she could embrace Death. She had kicked, bitten clawed and screamed. She had even activated her magic and had caused some damage. But, in the end, the fatigue had claimed her, and she had succumbed to unconsciousness. She had been processed and hoofed over to the hospital the following night. I can’t even join my poor children. she thought, feeling the now-familiar ache in her heart, I wonder how long it will take before they’re all hunted down. I doubt that any of the Princesses will show any amount of leniency towards my little changelings. “Chrissi? Are you alright?” The voice jolted her back to the present and she affixed her gaze on the man sitting before her. Dr. Phillip Curtis Decker was an odd human to say the least. He was of medium height, with a gaunt physique, brown hair that was streaked with gray and possessed, behind a pair of eyes that were as gray as his hair, a cold, calculating gaze that Chrysalis felt could pierce through any lies told like a knife. Decker had been appointed as her psychiatrist a week into her “stay” at the facility and he had displayed a quiet interest in her tales. She had, in the first few weeks when she had been consumed with anger at not being allowed to end her own life and sorrow at the memory of her homeworld, told Decker about Equestria at length. Decker, for his part, only rarely interrupted to ask a question or to ask her to repeat what she had said. His manner had been utterly calm, his tone even and soothing, but Chrysalis knew that he didn’t believe a world of what she was saying. Not that she could blame him. Although she had grown to loathe the nickname that he had given her in lieu of her real one as a -quote- “compromise” between her real name and a “normal” one. “Sorry,” said Chrysalis, “I was….zoned out.” Decker nodded in understanding, “I see.” No, you don’t. “You asked me a question?” “Yes,” said Decker with a small smile, “I asked how you were doing.” “I’m fine.” she said succinctly. Decker’s gaze bored into her, “You have bags under your eyes, Chrissi. Have you been having the dreams again?” Damn, he’s perceptive. Chrysalis sighed and nodded, “Yes.” “Same as before?” “Same as before.” said the former Queen, her gaze straying to the clock mounted to the wall opposite her. The hands rested exactly on the 7. I’ve got another hour with him. she thought, exasperated, And then it’s on to another wonderful day of swallowing pills, listening to crazies babble and feeding off the love from those two orderlies who’re having a fling on the...what do they call it? Oh, yeah, the Down-Low. She turned back to see Decker glancing out his window at the chunk of Los Angeles that it revealed. The sun was going down, tinging the skies with the faint orange hues of evening. “You look rather distracted yourself, doctor.” said Chrysalis, noticing the slight furrowing of his brow, “Am I boring you?” Decker turned back to her and his mouth quirked up in another weak smile, “I’ll admit that your silence is making me a bit….put-out. But I do have some business to attend to tonight, across town.” Chrysalis caught a faint taste of excitement from Decker as he spoke those last words and she smirked at the knowledge that he was probably seeing someone. For some reason, the image of straight-laced, cold-as-ice Dr. Decker with another woman-or man-struck her as amusing. Decker caught the mirth that crept onto her face and his smile widened, “You might be shocked to know that I have a personal life outside of this facility, Chrissi.” Chrysalis chuckled and allowed her body to relax. Decker returned his full attention to her and folded his thin hands together in a manner which Chrysalis had come to realize meant that he was ready to begin his questioning at length. “Last time you were here you told me about your dreams in more depth. You said that you were buried alive and that you heard things moving around you. Have you seen anything else since our last visit? Perhaps something to do with...Equestria?” Chrysalis shook her head, “My dreams don’t take place in Equestria.” she said. “Where do they take place?” asked Decker, raising a brow. “Midian.” Chrysalis felt the name from her dreams exit her mouth before she could fully comprehend what she had said. Decker nodded and reached for the notebook which rarely left his side. As he began to jot down his notes, Chrysalis reflected on that name. Midian. The name held an air of mystery and dread for her that few things could. But that was understandable, it had come to her in a dream that was far too vivid to be just a dream and had seared itself into her mind. Midian. It sounded like a place that wasn’t on Earth, a place like Equestria, even. Midian. The syllables rolled off her tongue in every form that she could take, on those nights when she wasn’t being watched. The name even had a taste all to itself, one that was faint and undefinable save for its sweet bitterness. Chrysalis looked back to the clock and saw that it was now 7:43. Oh, thank the Maker. she thought with a small sigh of relief. Decker had stopped writing, but his gaze had returned to the window, his eyes narrowed and his lips pursed. Chrysalis caught a taste of lust in the air. She smiled wryly, At least one of us is having a good time. Chrysalis returned to her room 17 minutes later and found that she had a roommate. It wasn’t entirely uncommon for the staff to forget to notify the patients of certain changes to the daily routine, especially if said patients were considered to be more “normal” than their screaming, violent brethren. And Chrysalis was, by far in a way, the most “Normal” of her fellow patients. Of course, it still came as a surprise to her when she entered her room, hoping to rest and reveal her true form in private, and found a man standing with his back to her, looking out at the darkening sky. Chrysalis, who had, out of habit, begun to shirk her human form as she entered, stopped, reversed the subtle darkening of her fingers and cheeks, and cleared her throat. The man was slow to respond, he turned slowly, slouching up against the wall as he did as if he feared what she might do. The notion almost made her smile as she remembered the fear that she used to instill as Queen. She cut the thread of that line of thought before it could reach its logical-and depressing-conclusion. “Uh….hello?” she ventured, putting on what she hoped was a comforting smile. The man narrowed his eyes and cocked his head at her, studying her as she did him. She saw, clearly and tasted acutely the instability that had etched itself on his sweaty, grimy face and flickered behind his green eyes. “What do you want?” he barked, his cracked lips parting to reveal yellowed teeth. “I….reside here.” she said, straightening up and regarding him coldly. The man sneered, “Not living?” Chrysalis slumped, “What?” “You said ‘reside’” said the man with a small chuckle, “Meaning you don’t ‘Live’ here. That’s good, that’s good. That means that you’re not completely hopeless, at least.” He turned away from her and resumed his watch of the falling sun. Chrysalis snorted and walked over to her bed, throwing herself down with a huff. “This isn’t the place for ‘Living’” the man continued, “This is the place where the world locks up its freaks and lets ‘em kill themselves or turns ‘em into zombies with all that shit they sneak into the food.” Chrysalis hummed in agreement even as she thought, This sounds like it isn’t his first rodeo. “What I wouldn’t wish to be free.” the man’s tone whiplashed from conversational to morose, “I have dreams, y’know? Dreams of a place where I can exist, free of the judgment of others, a place where all my sins can be forgiven.” Had Chrysalis been in her natural form, her ears would have perked up. “I’ve heard others talk about it.” said the man, “They have the dreams, too, they even have the same name for it, it’s-” Chrysalis cut him off, her curiosity rising inside of her, “Excuse me, Mr…?” The man turned to her, his face betraying his annoyance at being interrupted, “My name’s Narcisse, not that it matters.” “Fine, Narcisse.” said Chrysalis, ignoring his tone, “This place that you’re talking about, would it be called Midian?” Narcisse’s eyes widened, “What do you know about it?” he asked, his tone accusatory. Chrysalis snorted, “I have the same dreams as you, is that really so hard to comprehend?” Narcisse scowled, “You look to….Normal to know about Midian, you must have heard it from someone.” His dismissive tone coaxed a growl from the changeling. “Why? Because I don’t look like I bathe in the contents of a septic tank? Because I’m a woman? Because I’m not crazy like you?” “I. Am. Not. Crazy!” bellowed Narcisse, his face reddening under the grime, “I’m worthy! I always have been!” His hands strayed to the pockets of his jeans. “I know I’m one of them, I have to be! Ask anyone, I’m worthy to be among Them in Midian!” From the pockets, Narcisse withdrew two, small, silver blades attached to small rings which he fastened to his thumbs. He lifted his hands and curled them into tight fists, laying his thumbs on top to that the blades faced outwards, towards her. Sensing the danger and reacting instinctively, Chrysalis dropped her human form. The change on Narcisse was as quick as a sword stroke. Upon seeing her real form, with its insectile wings, jagged horn and vaguely equine structure, he let his arms drop to his sides as he stared at her. Chrysalis expected him to run or call for help, she didn’t expect him to do what he did next. Narcisse fell to his knees before her and gazed into her reptilian eyes with undisguised reverence. The shift was so sudden that she was caught utterly off-guard. Back in Equestria, she had been used to seeing that look on the faces of her subjects or on those of the ponies that she had ensnared. But she hadn’t cast a spell and, despite the brief flutter of happiness that passed through her at the notion, there was no way that he was one of her lost subjects, meeting his queen after being separated for so long. “They sent you, didn’t they?” asked Narcisse, his eyes roving across her gleaming chitin, her glistening fangs, taking in every detail with almost sexual attentiveness, like a fresh lover seeing his partner in the nude for the first time. “They sent you to test me.” said the madman, smiling through the tears leaking from his eyes. Chrysalis was dumbstruck, she had been taken off-guard and was not liking where the conversation was headed; she could practically taste the looming danger in the air. And yet…..and yet Narcisse could prove useful, that is, if he knew where Midian was. If Midian existed, if it truly was a place where all her sins could be forgiven, if it was a place where she could stay and be herself and ruminate on her past in Equestria, then maybe it would be best to indulge the madman’s notions. “Yes, I’m one of them.” said Chrysalis, smiling with all her fangs to enhance the effect. Narcisse closed his eyes and began to mutter under his breath as if in prayer. Lowering her head so that her snout was mere inches from his face, she asked, “Do you know where Midan is?” Narcisse’ eyes snapped open and he got to his feet. Turning from her, he beckoned to the window. Chrysalis saw that night had finally fallen, and crescent moon hung in a cloudless sky, casting blue shadows on the city below. Narcisse pointed to the bordering mountains that lay outside the city limits and recited the directions as if he were reading them aloud. “North of Athabasca, East of Peace River, near the town of Shere Neck, North of Dwyer.” Chrysalis smiled at him, “Thank you, Narcisse.” She gave an experimental buzz of her wings and was gladdened to find that the many hours of concealment and disuse had only rendered them stiff. Chrysalis turned and began to visualize Dr. Decker, hoping that she could make her escape from the facility with his face. Narcisse, seeming to sense her desire to flee, ran up to her with panicked look in his eyes. “I know, I know,” he said hurriedly, laying a hand on her flank to get her attention, “I don’t look right, that’s what you need, right? For me to show you?” “What are you talking about?” asked Chrysalis, annoyed at the distraction. “This face-” Narcisse gestured to face, “-is a mask. I’m an actor, see? There’s a face underneath this one.” Chrysalis saw the blades move up, but she didn’t have time to intercede. Narcisse had already begun to peel his scalp off by the time that the shock wore off. Chrysalis screamed, she couldn’t help it. The sight was too appalling, the mutilation too sudden. She stumbled back as the man, howling in pain, held out two dripping chunks of scalp towards her like an offering, one that she wouldn’t accept. The changeling backed away as Narcisse brought the blades up again, ready to do even more damage. Behind her came a scream that was not her own nor that of Narcisse. A nurse stood in the doorway, her eyes wide and horrified, taking in the sight of Chrysalis’ true form and the mutilated, bleeding Narcisse, who had turned his blades to his ears, having finished carving his scalp off. Chrysalis stood frozen for a moment, then, with a wail of frustration, sadness and horror, she activated her magic. She winced as her body compressed itself into a smaller form, her wings shrinking even as they grew frail and translucent, her chitin softening and taking on a sickly blue sheen as her eyes bulged and grew until they had eclipsed most of her face. In the blink of an eye, the space that had once held her true form was now occupied by a small, bloated housefly. The nurse fainted dead away and Chrysalis flew, on minuscule wings, away from the attention that their screams had brought. The last thing that she saw were the orderlies rushing into the room. The tormented, agonized screams of Narcisse followed her out of the facility and brought tears of guilt to her eyes. But she didn’t stop. She knew that her stay at the facility was done.