//------------------------------// // Chapter XVI: Pinks and Bait // Story: A Princess and Her Queen // by kildeez //------------------------------// Pinkie braced her hooves against the bottom of her prison and kicked off, swimming through the goop to the top of the tiny cocoon and circling back down again. It wasn’t much, but it was the only way she could work off some of her energy. Oh man, being cooped up in such a teeny-tiny prison was ssooooooooo boring! How could anypony be expected to hold still in a tiny little green thing when her friends could be in serious danger!? Still, she wasn’t trying to break out; she’d long given up on that. This cocoon thing was just too super-sticky and bouncy for her to have a hope of ever getting out by herself. So for now, she would just have to wait, no matter how totally super boring it was! Seriously! Life-threatening danger aside, there was nothing to do in there except float, jump around, and make spit bubbles in the goop, and that last one got boring ages ago! Boring, and possibly life-threatening. She wasn’t sure what the spit-to-goop ratio was to keep her alive, but she sure didn’t want to test it. A black shape filled the front of the pod, blocking out her vision. Oh, thank Celestia! Finally, something was happening! Even if that something might be her captors dragging her off to some unspeakable torture, so long as it was some form of input, she didn’t care. The goop peeled away in front of her, and she burst out, breathing the fresh air greedily, her lungs drinking it in until spots formed in front of her eyes. Still gasping, she slumped to the floor, panting heavily, her eyes blearily looking through the hazy light. A smaller changeling stood over her, reared up on his hind hooves, forehooves raised and poised as if he were about to pull off some karate. “You should…really…stick some...air holes in….these things…” she moaned. The changeling hesitated, then slowly descended back on all fours. “Air holes are unnecessary: the goop supplies all your body’s needs, pony,” he hissed, eyeing her suspiciously. “Still…real air…is better,” she gasped, heaved, then suddenly bolted to her hooves. “So hi there! I’m Pinkie Pie! What’s your name?” The sudden shift in tone nearly knocked the changeling right off his hooves. He shook his head to clear it, and glared down at her. “Names are not important, pony: I’m the guard here to make sure you don’t try anything funny, and that’s all you need to know.” She grinned. She’d been hoping he’d say something like that. “Oh, do you not have a name? That’s super-super sad! I heard some ponies say changelings don’t have names and I thought: how could they not have names? I mean, really, could you imagine how you’d call someling over? It’d be all: ‘oh, hey there, you! No, not you, the other you! The one with the black chitin! No, not you!’ I mean, it’d be super-duper confusing, just…” “Bait!” The changeling screamed, jamming a hoof into her mouth as the other clamped over one of his ears. “It’s Bait, alright!? My name is Bait!” She smiled at that and spat his hoof out. “Okey-dokey! Hi, Bait!” She extended one pink foreleg in greeting. He squinted at her, glaring her way as he backed up against a wall, pulling a small object down from a hook by the door. “Don’t think I’m that easily fooled, pony.” “What’s that?” She asked innocently. “I’m here to make sure you don’t try anything funny,” he said, advancing on her with the little object in his magic’s grip. “Nothing funny!?” She gasped. “But…funny is all I do! Funny is my life! Funny would be my middle name if it wasn’t already Diane!” He blinked, shook his head again. “Not that kind of funny! I just meant I’m here to make sure you don’t try to escape or blow something up!” “Oh, really?” She beamed at him. “A li’l changeling like you is supposed to keep me here? Like when I babysit the Cakes’ twins?” He huffed at her, stomping his hooves and snorting. “I am not little! Besides, you shouldn’t underestimate little guys, especially if they’re as smart as me.” “Really? Are you as smart as Twilight!? Or is it more like smart-aleck, because I’ve met a lot of stallions like that and they’re usually huge meanies,” she wrinkled her nose. “Well, I’ll tell you one thing, mister, just ‘cause you talk down to everypony doesn’t mean…” “No! I meant…uh…you know what, why don’t I just show you?” “Ooh, show me how?” She asked, bouncing up and down like a filly waiting for a treat, that constantly-fluffy mane bouncing with her. “First, you gotta close your eyes,” he said, smiling reassuringly. She paused at that and frowned, her mane finally taking a brief pause to catch its breath. “But why?” Trying not to get distracted from the panting sound coming from the mare’s mane, the changeling scrambled for an answer. “It’s…a…surprise!” “Surprise!? Oh man, I love surprises!” She gasped, resuming her hopping. “I figured you did,” he replied, shaking his head in a way that mimicked an eye roll. “So close your eyes now, or you’ll spoil the surprise!” “Okey-dokey!” She replied, squeezing her eyes shut. “Now,” he pulled the thing from the hook out and held it in front of his body, close to the carapace of his chest. “Keep them closed, but stick out your tongue.” Nodding in the darkness behind her eyelids, Pinkie obeyed, her tongue poking out just a bit between her lips. “No, no, no! You’re gonna need to do better than that!” She poked out her tongue a few inches further, eyes squinting with the effort. She heard his hoofsteps approaching on the floor. “Like thith?” She asked. “A little further…” She added a few more inches, her tongue poking out a good half-foot now. “C’mon, I know you can do better! Show me whatcha got!” Taking a deep breath, she extended her tongue out like a rolling tape measure, leaning forward until it finally ended with a little ‘k-chunk’ after 12 feet. “How’th thith!?” “Perfect,” he hissed beside her. She smiled inwardly. “Thucker,” she said before bringing her rear hooves up in a side kick, lashing out as her tongue rolled right back into her mouth. She grinned at the feeling of something soft connecting with her hoof, listening to a crash as it smashed against a far wall and rolled to the floor. “Gotcha! I can’t believe you thought I was that…” she opened her eyes, and trailed off upon seeing a pillow lying where she’d expected an unconscious changeling. A simple message, drawn up in crayon, was taped to the front: ‘Nope.’ “…stupid…” she managed before something smacked against the back of her neck. Pinkie looked up to find the changeling grinning down at her, hooves stuck to the ceiling, his fangs plainly visible, yet it wasn’t a predatory smile. It was more like a smile of victory. “Don’t feel too bad for yourself,” he chortled. “Most changelings would’ve fallen right into that, but I’m not most changelings.” “How did…” “Ventriloquism: just one of my many talents,” he replied, flittering back to the ground. “Among others, such as changeling magic.” He tapped a hoof against the hardwood floor, and suddenly the blob on the back of her neck expanded, creeping across her back and encasing her entire body before hardening, leaving her as just a fossilized pink blob in the middle of a new, completely immobile prison. “Just a little precaution in case you wanna try any more funny business,” the changeling smiled, leaning against the pony-shaped, green-tinted-pink rock with pride. “One tap of my hoof and you lose any and all mobility. It has a pretty decent range, too: more than enough to encompass the city. So unless you think you’re in any shape to beat a marathon record, I shouldn’t have to point out how pointless trying to run would be.” Another tap of his hoof, and the rock liquefied and retreated back into a little stone latched to her back. She gasped, and immediately craned her neck to scowl at the blob, setting to trying to gnaw it off. “Don’t think that’ll work, either,” he added. “The epoxy bonding it to you is stronger than any superglue. Only I can remove it without tearing the skin off your back. And don’t think knocking me out or killing me will fix anything: if I lose consciousness and you’re not in your pod, the blob will activate its ‘rock’ state automatically, and only I or another changeling can get you out of that.” He smiled haughtily as she glared at him. “Really, it’d be in your best interest to make sure my heart remains beating,” he continued, studying his hoof with no small amount of pride. “So unless you wanna spend the rest of your days staring up into nothingness, probably acting as a piece of statuary in our beloved Queen’s throne room, you’ll do what I say.” The pink mare glared up at her captor. He glared right back, meeting her eyes with that cocky little half-smile. “You’ve really thought this through, huh?” She asked. “E-yup,” he replied, inadvertently copying one of the few stallions in Pinkie Pie’s life. Suddenly, her glare softened right back into that bright, cheery smile. “Wow! You really are smart!” She gasped, springing back to her hooves. “Um…” he said, taken aback by her compliment. “Th-thank you. You’re…uh…you’re not too bad yourself.” “Oh, you,” she giggled, which earned an odd blush rising on his cheeks. “You’re the one who beat me at my own game! Hardly anypony’s done that before! Or…should I say anyling?” “Um…whatever you want is good, I guess,” he shrugged, honestly unsure of how to respond. “You seem…pretty alright with being a prisoner.” “Oh, that? I’ve been captured plenty of times,” she replied, those brightly-lit, baby-blue eyes locking with his as her voice continued in its sing-song tone: “It never sticks, though!” “We’ll see about that,” he huffed, turning towards the door. “C’mon, I still gotta show you what your job’s gonna be.” “Job? I already have a job, silly-billy! I’m a baker back in Ponyville!” “We are well aware,” he replied, kicking the double-doors open and motioning for her to follow. “That’s why we figured you’d be best suited for this task.” Curious, she followed the changeling through the double-doors and into a massive room. Tiled floors gave way to sleek, crystal-coated ovens, shelves, pantries and pans lining the walls, with numerous islands interspaced throughout holding cutting boards and cutlery. The Royal Kitchen! So that was where she was being held! The Crystal Palace itself! Oh man, Shining Armor and Princess Cadence would not be happy about this, wherever they were. As happy that she was to finally see the inside of the kitchen (such a sight was forbidden to tourists, even personal guests of the royal couple), it came with the bitter reminder that the Crystal Empire had fallen, and now her fate, and the fates of all her friends, was entirely in the hooves of another Queen. A Queen who had not only expressed her hatred for the peace and harmony that drove all of ponykind’s actions, but had also tried to take them over by force on at least one occasion, brutally invading their lands during a wedding ceremony, no less. Still, losing hope wouldn’t do any good. The changeling next to her would probably just feed off of that, somehow. “Our Queen has heard of your exemplary skills in baking,” he said, pulling one of the pantry doors open to reveal a mountain of flour bags. “She would like you to serve as her personal chef during our occupation of the city.” “Wait, why does a changeling need food? Dontcha guys just feed on love?” “Doesn’t mean we don’t enjoy a good cupcake or something every now and again,” he replied flatly. “CUPCAKES!?” She rocketed up to him, appearing as a pink blur for a second as she zipped right up into his face. “You guys like cupcakes!?” “It was just an example!” He replied, holding his hooves up defensively. “I’m pretty partial to them myself, but…” “Oh man, we’ve got to make us some cupcakes!” She exclaimed, retrieving a pair of aprons from a hook on the wall: one a frilly pink with a large heart in the middle, the other plain with pinstripes. Tying the pink apron around herself, she promptly tossed the pinstriped one Bait’s way. “Woah, woah, woah,” he said, snatching the apron out of mid-air. “What’s this for?” “Well, how else are you gonna help me make this stuff without getting batter all over yourself, silly?” She giggled. “Help?” He looked down at the apron. “I’m just supposed to supervise. Y’know: make sure you don’t try to poison anything?” She gazed around a kitchen island at him, eyes wide, bottom lip quivering. “You think I’d do something like that?” Bait shifted uncomfortably, averting the gaze. “I dunno…maybe…” “Oh, don’t be silly,” she laughed, shooting over to the pantry. “We’ve got a lot of work to do! And besides, what better way to make sure the food isn’t poisoned than to make it yourself?” He opened his mouth to argue, and then closed it. He knew she was right. There was no arguing with that logic! Sighing, he tied the pinstripe apron around himself and followed the mare into the pantry, looking around for her. “Pinkie?” “Here!” She cried cheerfully from the summit of flour-sack mountain, a good twenty feet in the air. “Wow, look at all this! This might just be enough!” “Enough!?” He gasped, suddenly feeling weak in the knees. “We’re just baking for the Queen and some of her staff, you know that, right!?” “Oh, I know!” She replied, letting out a quick, little yodel from the highest peak of the flour pile and planting a pink flag emblazoned with her cutie mark by her hooves. “But I’ve never gotten to bake for changelings before, or had so much supplies at hoof! We could run all sorts of baking experiments with this stuff!” “All of this?” He whimpered, the mountain looming in his pale, flat eyes. “Eyup,” she replied, skiing down to him and landing at his side. “Isn’t it wonderful? With this amount of supplies, we could probably keep experimenting and baking and baking and baking and we’d never, ever, ever have to stop!” He looked at her smiling face, then up at the massive pile of flour. Somewhere within it, he could swear he heard a mountain goat bleat. “Sweet Chrysalis, what have I gotten myself into?”