Monday
“Thank you, Miss Pekoe. That will be all.” It was a shame that even Orange Pekoe was having a difficult time adjusting to their new guest, but Celestia figured it could’ve been worse. She could have fled from the room like Miss Inkwell, just shy of screaming in fear and hiding under the table. Orange Pekoe, on the other hoof, would not have been caught dead engaging in such uncouth behavior.
So instead, she bowed respectfully and backed out of the room. Once she was out of sight, Celestia’s ears twitched at the sound of her fleeing down the hallway at top speed. Celestia sighed. It was going to be a very long, hard road to accomplish this task she’d set upon herself. “Well, at least this one didn’t shriek at my face,” grumbled her guest, the semi-permanent sneer she wore the kind of thing Celestia had been certain only existed in certain superhero comics.
Come to think of it, she does remind me a great deal of the Mane-iac. Perhaps I should ask Spike on how to engage her, Celestia thought with whimsical amusement. Probably not a brilliant idea, much like the notion of making her and Cadence hash out their differences. Though Celestia had decided that, in the end, that would be a bit rough on the masonry.
Whimsy thus dealt with, she returned her full attention to the mare across the table. Hm, now there was another thought she ought to never voice. “Miss Pekoe is nothing if not very courteous...” Celestia began, lifting the steaming china cup to inhale the aroma. Ahh. Her favorite. “But I fear she did not take the invasion well.” That was something of an understatement, actually. “Like most from Neighpon, she is a bit delicate when it comes to violence.”
Her guest merely lifted a brow, lifting her own cup and giving it an uninitiated sniff. Celestia often enjoyed watching neophyte tea drinkers absorb the complex aromas and flavors of her favorite blends, especially when they’d never had a proper cup before. The astonished mixture of emotions that crossed her guest’s face were fascinating in this case. After all, it was not every day one took tea with a changeling, much less the so-called Queen of the Changelings.
She’d called herself ‘Chrysalis’ when Shining Armor’s relentless Royal Guards had dragged her triumphantly into Canterlot. Captured from her hiding hole in the Badlands, Celestia had dutifully taken her into custody and promptly invited her to tea. Likely not what Shining Armor had in mind, but Celestia found she very rarely did what most ponies ‘had in mind’. “What is this?” Chrysalis asked in a suspicious, harsh tone. “This cannot be tea. What poison are you trying to trick me into drinking?”
Celestia wanted to laugh, but merely tutted to her guest instead. “It is good Saddle Arabian spice tea. No trickery involved.” She took another sip, making little effort to hide her smile.
Her guest eyed the cup and took a slow sip. If the taste of cinnamon, cloves, juniper, and candied ginger root was entrancing to normal ponies, Celestia could only imagine what it was like for Chrysalis. “I knew they’d gotten the tea thing completely wrong,” the changeling queen muttered over her cup, carefully cradling it in her forehooves. “That’s the last time I trust drones with something this complex.”
Celestia felt a little spark of hope in her chest. “Perhaps I can talk Miss Pekoe into giving you some lessons?” She was going to find a solution to this problem that did not involve violence. All of her previous attempts to halt threats to Equestria through force had worked for a time. But Discord… Discord had been the proof that she had been taking the wrong direction all along. “She is always happy to express her art.”
Queen Chrysalis stared at her in disbelief. “Lessons? In tea?”
Wednesday
The sight of Queen Chrysalis in a formal tea dress was quite possibly the most adorable thing she’d ever seen. Even better was the mixture of pleasure and absolute annoyance on her face moving with the speed of Rainbow Dash on a caffeine run. “I look ridiculous,” Chrysalis growled at her with a smouldering look.
“Nonsense!” Celestia chided, her smile wholly genuine. Even when angry she was cute! “You look absolutely lovely. Rarity still has an astounding talent for taking anypony’s coloration and accenting it beautifully.”
Chrysalis muttered something under her breath, and Celestia pounced. “What was that? You really ought to speak up, Chrysalis. We’re not going to get anywhere if you just talk to yourself.”
That earned her quite a death glare, but Chrysalis did raise her voice a touch. “At least it’s comfortable to wear.” She paused quite obviously before fixing her with a level stare. “Why are we doing this, Celestia? What in the name of the First Egg are you trying to accomplish with this nonsense?”
“Talking with somepony is nonsense?” Celestia asked, wondering not for the first time, how the changelings solved their own disagreements. Even the griffons weren’t entirely violent when it came to such things.
“I—Well, of course not.” Chrysalis huffed at her, leaning forward over the table with her hooves planted aggressively. “I tried to overthrow your kingdom! I brainwashed your Guard Captain and practically blew you away, and you’re trying to serve me tea!? That’s insane! What are you thinking, you—foolish pony!?” Her voice steadily rose to all but a shout at her...
Celestia held up her hoof. In one sense, she was trying to calm Chrysalis. In another, she had to make certain her guards didn’t do anything overly protective. “The short version? I don’t believe in using violence when there are other options.” She pointed at Chrysalis and raised an eyebrow. “You’re no longer a danger to me or Equestria, Chrysalis. Why shouldn’t I try to speak with you?”
Chrysalis stared at her with a blank look for a good while before she recovered. Celestia took the time to pour another cup of tea. “And take your hooves off the table, it’s impolite,” she continued, as if the outburst had never happened.
Chrysalis jerked back reflexively, then huffed in annoyance at… something. “I'd known you were a hopeless idealist, but that is absurd even for you.” The irritation puzzled Celestia in a way she could not easily dismiss. Chrysalis turned her head away to gaze at one of the stained glass windows that adorned her private lounge. “You are such a puzzle. You display your conquests for all the world to see, yet you act nothing like a conqueror.”
Celestia turned her eyes to the same window, which depicted herself and Luna sealing Discord away in stone for the first time. “I rather don’t see the need actually.” It was a good memory, marred only by the things that had come after. She turned away from the window to focus on her guest and the curious turn of conversation. “My deeds speak for themselves, as do the deeds of those who have carried my legacy.”
“The purple one and the pink one,” Chrysalis responded flatly, her eyes narrowed.
“Twilight and Cadence, yes.” Celestia gently chided, tapping the tabletop primly. “And you should know that if my niece had her way, you’d be cleaning dishes in her scullery for the next century or so.” She put on her very best teacher’s smile. “You might want to be a touch more respectful, or I may decide that’s the only way to teach you anything.”
Like so many students before her, Chrysalis’ face went through a veritable cornucopia of emotions and finally settled upon resignation. “I take that back. You’re a cruel and merciless conqueror of all that you survey.” But did Celestia detect a note of good-natured humor in there? Perhaps.
Well, there was only one way to find out. “Only when my students err,” she quipped, enjoying another taste of her tea, “as opposed to when they realize they’ve dug themselves a twenty-hoof deep hole and decide not to jump in it and keep digging.”
For a moment, she thought perhaps her joke had gone a touch far. But Chrysalis lifted her teacup and took a dainty sip. “There’s nothing wrong with digging holes you know,” she said quietly. “That’s how you find the most fascinating things.”
Friday
“... And the nymphs are my administrators, so I can usually set them complex tasks without oversight. Usually.” Chrysalis was gesturing with concise motions, sometimes a biscotti in hoof. “It can be a bit taxing, honestly. Yet I still have no idea how you get anything done around here!” She brandished the pastry like a sword. “It simply does not make sense that an entire nation of uncontrollable workers would be more efficent!”
“What’s so hard to understand?” Celestia really wanted to get back to hearing about how these changeling hives worked, but it was important to be courteous. “They benefit from doing the work as much as anypony else. Sometimes it’s thankless, but it’s always necessary.” She sipped her tea—a nice Neighpon green—before continuing. “Our societies do not work in very different ways when you boil it down; the difference is more from philosophy.”
“Bah!” Chrysalis snorted, leaning back into her seat with a decidedly undignified slouch. “Philosophy my eye. Your ponies are just as easily led about by the nose as my drones, and don’t you deny it.” She waggled a hoof at herself, smiling lazily. “The difference is that I don’t have to work as hard at it as you do, so I suppose I get what I work for.” The words reeled off like a shot from a catapult.
“You also have fewer ponies to talk to,” Celestia shot back, and Chrysalis rewarded the solid hit with an ironic salute. “But really, Chrysalis, I do envy your lack of internal political strife.” She sighed gustily, rubbing at her temples. “I swear, sometimes I think they’ve regretted making me Princess all those centuries ago and have decided to punish me for it by acting like foals at all hours.”
That got what Celestia would swear was a wry smile out of Chrysalis, but it was quickly buried beneath a sneer. “Well, you won the war. You get to have all the fun.” Celestia wanted to throw one of the scones at her for that, but refilled her cup instead. “You still haven’t explained to me why we’re doing this.” Chrysalis was speaking intently, almost harshly to her. And she’d dodged the subtle question too.
Not for the first time, Celestia wondered if the changeling queen had ever had a friend before in her life. “As I said, I don’t employ violence when other methods suffice.” She sipped at her tea for the day and fixed a firm gaze on her guest. “I do not believe you to be wholly evil, Chrysalis. Misguided, desperate, unwise… arrogant, perhaps. But not evil. You are not Tirek.” She shuddered a little in memory of that encounter and quickly dispelled it from her mind.
Much to her surprise, Chrysalis actually became quite animated at the monster’s mention. “I have heard how the purple one engaged the demon in direct combat actually.” Her eyes lit up in a strange, gleeful excitement. “Is it true they exchanged magic blasts and hurled one another through mountains?”
Celestia snorted derisively. “Twilight has refused to brag about her accomplishments in defeating Tirek, so I fear I do not know.” She actually knew a great deal, but she was hardly about to indulge her guest’s puerile interest.
Except… she didn’t seem quite focused on what Celestia had said. Instead, she was cradling her cup with an unusual amount of care and sipping very slowly. For just a brief moment, there was a look of unalloyed pleasure on Chrysalis’ face and a weariness behind it that Celestia could all too easily relate. She was… smiling. But Celestia dared not intrude upon her moment, instead simply taking her own sip of tea and watching as carefully as she dared.
Was she making progress at last?
Sunday
Chrysalis sat down in the chair opposite her, hooves pressed together, a mixture of both anger and confusion as plain as the sunrise on her face. She was brooding in a way Celestia was certain only villains in comic books did, and, once again, she wondered if she should have asked Spike for advice. “You think you know me, don’t you?” Chrysalis snapped at her as she sat down. It was a statement, not a question, and one that Celestia had been anticipating.
Orange Pekoe stood somewhat hesitantly on the periphery, and Celestia elected to give her a nod. This was not likely to be a conversation conducive to tea. Her brave tea mistress quietly bowed her way out of the room, and Celestia focused all her attention upon her guest. “You don’t understand a thing about what I’ve been through,” Chrysalis continued snappishly, pointedly enunciating each syllable sharply.
Celestia considered Chrysalis’ statements for a moment, then put on her most tolerant smile. She had an opportunity. “Try me,” she offered, gesturing for Chrysalis to go on.
It was like setting a spark to a firework. Chrysalis slammed her forehooves into the table—Celestia idly wondered why she kept this pony-like form sometimes—and rose with a righteous fury. “Starvation! Rebellion! Fear! It has taken every single ounce of my power and my cunning just to keep my children from dying of hunger, and you dare to sit there as though you hold the moral high ground!?” She slammed her hooves again, and it took every ounce of Celestia’s self-control to not launch herself across the table to comfort the angry queen.
She spoke again, her voice harsh yet sibilant. “You know nothing of my kin, nor what we have sacrificed to stay alive. You hoard your precious emotions and dole them out without a thought to their value. You give your precious love, hope, and happiness away so frivolously, and for WHAT?!” The word burst out in a shout that shook the window panes.
Celestia crossed her hooves and waited. Chrysalis drew several rasping breaths before continuing. “It’s like seeing a wealthy clan just throwing food away as you starved, and then refusing to let you scrounge from the trash.” Celestia could not help but remember that long, icy march across the western wastes as they tried to flee the Windigoes.
Her poor ponies, starving and angry. “You cannot possibly understand what it has been like to watch my children…” Chrysalis’ voice heaved, and Celestia could see the pegasus soldiers lining up in neat formations as the earth pony farmers rallied around a banner of defiance. Battle and blood had followed as surely as night followed day.
Chrysalis’ head came up and the faint tears that brimmed in her eyes shone like sapphires. “How could you possibly understand our suffering?” she rasped, her voice raw as her emotions.
Celestia gazed straight into those eyes. “Better than you could ever possibly know, Chrysalis.” She spoke calmly, or as calmly as she could while remembering those hard times. “Perhaps better than I was willing to admit,” she continued, not looking away save for a thoughtful blink.
Chrysalis stared back at her, breathing sharply and heavily. Then she gave a cry, a strangled mixture of despair and sorrow, and fled the room in a flurry of crystalline wings.
The Following Friday
It was almost a week before Chrysalis reappeared in her private study. Twilight had come up from Ponyville to discuss the nature of her new realm, and Celestia was enjoying her favorite Neighpon green tea once again. Twilight was just getting ready to start in on the paperwork when the changeling queen reappeared outside of her study. “M-may I come in?” she spoke quietly, even deferentially.
Twilight’s eyes went wide at her approach, but Celestia wasn't going to let this opportunity pass. “You may, if you do not mind us having a guest.” She reached under the table to squeeze Twilight’s hoof firmly. Her student, ever a clever pony, very smartly kept her snout shut.
Chrysalis entered with a boneless grace that Celestia envied and took her seat at the table. “How long ago was it?” she asked quietly, and Celestia needed no context to understand the question.
“A long time ago.” She still had a quiet reverence for the memory. “And no matter how long it was, the pain still lingers. So many good ponies lost. So much suffering. But they endured, and so did I.” She fixed Chrysalis with her gaze. “I don’t hold your actions against you, Chrysalis. For there”—she gestured at the queen—“but for the grace of Harmony, go I.”
Chrysalis was silent, her face a study in conflicting emotions. When she did speak, it was with a quiet and remarkably cultured voice. “I don’t suppose we could start over?” She lifted her head, trying to sound humble and failing miserably at it.
For Celestia, even the attempt was more than enough. “I think we can manage that at least.” She smiled, extending her hoof. “Friend,” she stated with the hope that Chrysalis would understand what she was doing here.
Chrysalis stared at the hoof for a moment, then clasped her own around it. “Okay. Friend.” Her voice broke on the word, and when she gazed into Celestia’s eyes, she wore a lopsided smile. “That is a very strange word for me to say.”
Celestia’s lips widened in a grin. “Then we shall have to work on making it more comfortable for you.” She turned and gestured. “We can begin with my student and friend, the Princess of Friendship, Twilight Sparkle.”
Twilight glowered at Chrysalis. “We’ve met.”