Recherche

by Crescent Pulsar


Chapter 13: The Queen and I

Marshall suddenly found himself staring up at a familiar — if nondescript — ceiling, which he could barely see with the meager amount of light being provided by his bedroom's sole window. It took him a moment to do more than that, as his discombobulated mind tried to adjust to having a body that no longer had an elevated heart rate, adrenaline pumping through its veins, or any other symptom that properly reflected the state of fright it was in, even as said fright began to ebb. Unlike waking from a bad dream, he felt disconnected from his experience as Recherché; he wasn't even sweating, which he would have expected after having a dream as scary as what had happened to him — had it actually been one. Eventually, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of his bed, then planted his elbows upon his knees, covered his face with his hands, and began to think about the situation.

To begin with, he was immensely relieved to know that having a strong desire to escape back to his human body had also been a viable means of moving his consciousness. It was a bit difficult for him to wrap his head around the fact that he had been in danger at all, though, because — while he knew that certain things could happen to anyone — he'd lived a life where being attacked by someone happened to other people. Sure, he'd been bullied a little before high school, but he had never feared for his life.

Then, of course, were the obvious questions: what had that creature been, and why had it targeted him? Had that old pony kept it as a pet, or something, and had tried to feed him to it? What had that light show been about, anyway? It certainly didn't seem to be conducive toward making a surprise attack. Since it happened on a world with magic, and he wasn't all that familiar with what was possible with it, he could only imagine what its purpose could have been.

He got to his feet and turned on the overhead light before he began to pace about his room, trying to decide on what to do next: should he wait for Rarity to contact him, once he had been late enough for her to realize that something might be amiss, or should he try to return to Recherché's body and find out more about the situation? The first option would be perfectly safe for him, but what if that creature wasn't just a danger to him, and waiting for Rarity to contact him would be enough time for it to escape and put someone else in jeopardy at a later date? On the other hand, going back could very well lead to something unpleasant happening to him...

Eventually, he stopped behind his desk chair and gripped its back with both hands as he struggled to make a choice. It wasn't until his gaze happened to catch sight of his gamepad that his thoughts finally found a line of logic that led to an acceptable answer to his internal debate. As far as he was aware, he'd simply return to his own body if Recherché's body perished, so it wasn't like his life would actually be at stake. For all intents and purposes, he would have as many lives as Recherché as somepony was willing to make him a new body. That didn't mean that he would be spared the experience of pain or death, but he could end up being more helpful before — potentially — having to wait for Rarity anyway.

He'd never had the opportunity to do such a thing before. It was so fantastical compared to his ordinary way of life that he once again began to wonder if he were crazy. Yet, beneath his apprehension existed a spark, the one that had been doused by adulthood but reignited by magic, inter-dimensional travel, and new friends. It was that last aspect that truly spurred him into action, because he didn't like the thought of what could happen to them — or even to himself — should it turn out that he could have made a difference, had he not chosen to idle the time away.

So, he turned off the light, returned to bed and laid down. He had some difficulty calming down enough to move his consciousness, but he succeeded before too long. It had taken him a few seconds to realize it, though, because the cellar was now as dark as his bedroom had been, with the only light source being the trapdoor that had — thankfully — been left open. It wasn't until he had noticed how different his body felt as it laid on the cool, hard floor, that he took a calming breath and told his body to move.

Glad that he had been able to return to Recherché, and that his body didn't appear to have been mistreated during his absence, he lit up his horn and looked around. While he had been untouched, the same couldn't be said for the bookcase, which had been smashed into pieces. The boxes, too, had seen some rough treatment: they had been knocked away from where they had been located, and damaged enough by the force used that the clothing contained within them had been strewn about the cellar.

That discovery was enlightening, but also enough of a concern to make him nervous. However, when he caught the sound of a voice coming from the floor above him, he did his best to calm his heart before making his way to the stairs. Since he wasn't sure what kind of situation he was dealing with, exactly, he opted to not be sneaky, so he wouldn't inspire a negative response from that alone. It wasn't like he was good at sneaking around or fighting, anyway, so he figured that he might as well be the unassuming and unintimidating fellow that came naturally to him... and hope for the best, of course.

Whether from the sound of his hooves or the stairs groaning under his weight, or — possibly — even the light from his horn, whoever had been speaking stopped abruptly. Fortunately, while the ensuing silence unnerved him a bit, no one accosted him or closed the trapdoor before he could leave the cellar. Though hesitant upon seeing the creature from before, once his eyes had cleared the floor, he ceased using his horn to light his way and forced himself onward, until he had all four hooves standing on the living room floor.

The creature stood half of the room's length away from him, and beside it was a similar-looking creature, save that it was noticeably smaller, lacked hair, and each of its blue eyes lacked a pupil and an iris. While the big one simply looked down on him with displeasure, the small one had taken an aggressive stance and seemed ready to pounce at a moment's notice. Not knowing what to do, partly due to the fact that he was using a hefty portion of his mental resources to keep calm and not show any weakness, he ended up waiting for the other party to take the initiative.

The big one seemed to run out of patience, who — in a clearly-feminine voice — spat, "Come to gloat, have you? Perhaps I should destroy that body of yours just to spite you, after all."

Despite the threat, and because of it, Marshall purposefully focused on the first thing that had been said, which had him a bit confused. "Why would I gloat?"

The female-seeming creature narrowed her eyes at him and raised her voice as she said, "Are you trying to play me for a fool?"

Seeing that the situation was degenerating for some reason, Marshall's growing anxiety began to show itself as he tried to express his actual motives. "N-no. I was just, um, curious?" Knowing how lame that sounded without having to see the disbelief on either creature's face, he added, "I-I mean: what are you? And w-what did you want with me?"

After being on the receiving end of the female's scrutiny long enough for it to make him uncomfortable, she spared her smaller companion enough of her attention to convey a slight nod of her head. In response, said companion did something that looked like a very abbreviated version of the green, liquid fire-looking pillar from before, and — just like that — it assumed the identity of the old mare that had requested his aid earlier. He could only watch in wonder as the disguised creature calmly left through the front door before closing it behind itself, making it clear that leaving him alone with the apparent leader was quite intentional.

He grew more nervous as the only other occupant of the room stared at him silently, calculatingly, unaware of what she knew about him, or what her motives might be. He also had no idea of what she had in mind at that precise moment, since sending the other creature outside must have served some kind of purpose. He certainly hoped that he wasn't about to find out what death was like, since that typically happened to fictional characters who were under similar circumstances as his own.

Finally, she approached him with a casual yet confident gait, until she threatened to invade his personal space. He couldn't help gulping as he raised his head to maintain eye contact with her. While staring down her nose at him, she evenly asked, "Are you trying to stall me?"

He must have shown the lack of anticipation for such a question on his face, because she chuckled before he could reply and said, "Interesting. Well, it's not every day that you get to speak with something from another universe." She turned about and put some distance between them, and with her horn aglow she seized a large, round cushion and placed it where she planned to sit. Once she had deemed herself comfortable enough on said cushion, she returned her attention to him and pompously stated, "I am Chrysalis, queen of the Changelings."

Relieved that she was willing to talk with him, Marshall sat down on his haunches, which he was thankful for because his legs had become a bit weak and shaky. "I'm Marshall, but I'm going by Recherché while I'm here."

"I know," Chrysalis replied, with a self-satisfied grin. "As I'm sure you can imagine, I have... ways of gathering information."

Marshall nodded his head in agreement. Then, since he had heard of his own world's version of changelings, and had seen one from this world assume another's form, he hesitantly — due to her self-proclaimed status as a queen — decided to ask, "So, uh, you guys replace people — er, ponies?"

"Obviously," Chrysalis replied, who appeared to regard his question as a stupid one. "We feed on love, you see, so we can't approach our prey as we are and expect them to give it to us."

Glad that she hadn't said anything about the way that he had spoken to her, since royalty stereotypically demanded that a certain kind of behavior be observed by those beneath their station, Marshall was free to focus all of his attention on what she had said. With his brow furrowed in thought, he tried and failed to figure out what he could offer her in that regard, since he had no idea how much love anyone had, so he asked, "Why would you want to replace me?"

Chrysalis' expression soured. "We have other ways of getting what we want. While I was aware that taking your place wouldn't have worked, I hadn't anticipated how easily you could move your consciousness between bodies. Thanks to that, I have no choice but to pull my forces out of Ponyville for the time being."

Although she was being vague about certain things, Marshall was able to glean enough from what had been said to get a better understanding of the situation, as well as some of the rationale behind it. By stating an open-ended objective that could be achieved by a means other than replacement, that likely meant that they had planned to use him to gain access to their actual target, rather than feeding off of him while a masquerade made sure that no one noticed his absence. Since they couldn't take his place, he could only imagine that some kind of mind control would have been used. Which seemed achievable, considering how magic probably made it possible to control someone's mind, and how a failure to access his consciousness appeared to be the determining factor for Chrysalis' change of plans.

Chrysalis had also assumed that he would tell someone about her, which would require her to leave Ponyville before getting caught. While he certainly would, if she was as bad as she seemed to be, based on her threatening behavior and desire to evade capture, he wondered if it was really necessary. He could understand where she was coming from, so maybe there was a chance for him to do something good if there was an opportunity to do it. Of course, before that, he would have to learn more about the changelings and Chrysalis' plans, in order to find out if he should bother with such an undertaking at all.

Figuring that he could take a gamble and follow up on his last question, between having discovered another known method of moving his consciousness and Chrysalis not knowing exactly how he did it, he decided to pursue a hunch and ask, "So, was it Twilight you were after, then?"

Appearing to be more amused than impressed by his question, Chrysalis blithely said, "Was it that obvious?" She waved a hoof dismissively. "Well, it doesn't matter whether she knows or not." Then, she proceeded to glance upward thoughtfully, in a contrived manner, before grinning evilly and adding, "Although I'm sure that she will have fun looking over her shoulder for a while..."

Keeping that response in mind for possible future reference, Marshall kept himself on track, now that he was sure of the target. "Why her?"

"Why not?" Chrysalis retorted, becoming a bit annoyed. "Now, I didn't spare you the inconvenience of creating a new vessel just so you could interrogate me. Unless you want that to change, I suggest that you make this chat worthwhile for me."

That made Marshall pause and think about his next course of action, since he didn't want to give up on the chance to make a difference somewhere just yet, even if that somewhere happened to be on another world. Normally he wouldn't entertain such a fanciful idea, but that wasn't to say that he hadn't harbored it, knowing that — in reality — he would either lack the guts or the skills if the opportunity arose to do something extraordinary or heroic. However, between having Recherché's magic, being in another universe, not having to worry too much about his well-being or life, wanting to do his new friends a favor, and hearing some of the heroic exploits of said friends, he was feeling uncharacteristically bold.

So, after considering the things that he knew so far, he decided to go with something risky, which made his heart quicken its pace. "As the queen, is feeding your subjects your top priority?"

At first, Chrysalis simply looked unamused by his question. However, it wasn't long before her eyes narrowed, as she realized the direction that such an inquiry could lead to, partly due to his last question. Her horn lit up, and Marshall found himself enveloped in her magic field. Unlike the times that his own had enveloped him, however, it felt constrictive, and he was being compressed enough by it to strain some parts of his body painfully.

After he was raised into the air and brought over to her, until his face was only a few inches away from her own, she spoke to him in a low and menacing tone. "Don't think I haven't heard about how your kind hunts and domesticates its own food. You aren't going to tell me that there's something wrong with doing the same, are you?"

Despite being scared, and struggling more out of reflex than on purpose, Marshall was able to grunt out, "I won't, ugh, argue on that point. But, if it were really the same, ugh, thing, then why haven't you gotten the ponies under your control?"

Chrysalis grimaced, as if she had tasted something unappetizing, and flung him back to where he had been sitting before. After a bit of a hard landing, followed by some tumbling, he slid to a stop beside the cellar's entrance, with his head hanging over the opening. At that point, once she was sure that he wouldn't be too distracted to listen to her, she acerbically stated, "Don't speak to me as if you know anything."

With a wince, Marshall favored the shoulder that he had initially landed on as he rose to his hooves, which he began to rub after he turned to face the Changeling queen. Now that he appeared to be out of any immediate danger, relatively speaking, he was able to calm himself down a bit before he re-established eye contact with her and made his next inquiry. "Are the effects of feeding on love that bad, then?"

"Even if they weren't," Chrysalis bitterly replied, with a tinge of weariness, "it wouldn't change anything." A second later, she chuckled to herself as she regarded him with a somewhat mocking expression.

A bit irritated by that despite his mood and the situation, Marshall couldn't help asking, "What's so funny?"

With half-lidded eyes, and clearly amused by his irritation, Chrysalis said, "Here you are, new to this world, with barely enough love to whet the appetite of a starving changeling, and you're trying to be charitable to the one that tried to make you an unwitting pawn."

After Marshall restrained himself from making a retort, which would set him off track, he managed to work up the nerve to stare into Chrysalis' eyes defiantly while he voiced one of his observations. "You didn't say that eating love would be bad without exception. Was that on purpose?"

Chrysalis returned his stare with one of her own, her expression blank. After a moment, probably after some thought, she levelly asked, "Do you really wish to help?"

Marshall hesitated for a split second, when a familiar sense of doubt began to niggle at the edges of his awareness, but he had an unusual well of confidence to draw from, which gave him the determination to nod his head in confirmation. He didn't quite understand it, but — now that he noticed it — what he was doing felt like it was being driven by more than just good will and personal achievement. If he didn't know any better, he almost felt convinced that he could help her.

In response, Chrysalis stood up from her cushion and turned away from him. She stepped over to one of the windows, and held her gaze in that direction even though the curtains had been drawn closed. After a lengthy span of silence, she finally said, "How much our feeding affects our prey depends on how much love is available, and how much we take in a given amount of time." She turned her head enough to glance at him out of the corner of her eye. "For instance: even if I were to take all of the love that you have been bestowed in an instant, you would barely feel it because you have so little."

As curious as Marshall was about the amount of love he had, especially since it seemed to be a kind that was projected onto others instead of produced by oneself, he remained on topic. "So, if someone had a lot of love, and you fed on them slowly...?"

"It would only be detrimental if they were fed upon too often for too long," Chrysalis answered, before she turned her head away and stared toward the window again. "But such an opportunity can only happen under more ideal circumstances. Between keeping our presence secret and feeding an entire hive, it's difficult to keep ourselves well-fed. We can't make a habit of holding anyone hostage, because there's only so much missing time that an excuse or explanation can fill when we return them. We can't assume just any identity and risk a discrepancy regarding their whereabouts at a given time, or being ignorant about something that the original subject would have certainly known. Nor can we rotate too many of my subjects on the prey that we have access to, because it's often difficult to organize and more likely to be detrimental to our prey, which can draw unwanted attention." She paused for a second, perhaps to think about what she wanted to say next. "Tricking our prey to direct their love toward us is our preferred method of feeding, because it tastes much better and won't cause any side-effects, but we often resort to using force because it's easier to accomplish and less time-consuming. That, and long-term commitments have a greater chance of exposing us, and when that happens to one, it could affect all of the others in the area, as well as beyond."

As Marshall digested that, he could see why such a race would want control over their source of food, and thus setting their sights on those with the greatest authority among said source. Aside from their perceptions being colored by their predatory nature, he could see how ponies might not give them a warm welcome on looks alone, never mind after being asked to serve themselves as their meal. That's not to say that such things had happened in the changelings' past, because he certainly wouldn't know, but he could understand their position even if they had always been antagonistic.

Either way, nothing good would await him, his new friends, or any other pony if the changelings didn't, well, change their ways. To that end, he carefully considered his next words before he said them. "If you were presented a way to feed your subjects adequately, and it meant having a peaceful relationship with Equestria, would you accept it?"

Chrysalis snorted with what sounded like amusement, but she had a serious expression on her face when she turned around and began to approach him. "I highly doubt that such a thing could happen, but," she stopped and looked down at him, in a way that sent a jolt of nervousness through his body, "I will allow you the chance to prove me wrong." She lowered her head until all that he could see was her intense, narrow-eyed gaze as she softly added, "Should you betray my trust, however, I will make sure that the rest of your time spent on this world will be... unpleasant." She proceeded to raise her head, and her expression relaxed somewhat. "Do you understand?"

Marshall could only nod his head stiffly in reply.

"Good," Chrysalis stated in a self-satisfied manner.


After Marshall learned a few more things about changelings, which could help him with his endeavor, Chrysalis allowed him to leave. Once outside, he spared the house a backward glance before moving on, his mind burdened by a multitude of thoughts. Not only had he encountered someone that could be perceived as being a villain, and had a somewhat civil conversation with them instead of being their victim, but he had more or less volunteered to help them out — at no one else's expense, of course.

While he walked to his place of employment, he couldn't help wondering what he could do. Even if he could come up with a solution, it was likely that it wouldn't be something that he could accomplish on his own: either he would lack the know-how and/or resources, be unable to do it without being noticed, or — for a number of reasons — he would have to inform the princesses.

The situation seemed to call for the princesses' involvement, as far as he figured, but he wasn't sure if that would be a good idea or not. Of the ones that he was aware of, he barely knew Twilight Sparkle, and she was the one that he was the closest to. What if the presence and potential threat of the changelings was enough for a hostile response, instead of offering an olive branch? On top of that, he didn't know what kind of history the changelings had with Equestria, and thus how that might affect the princesses' choice of action as well.

Ultimately, though, if there was going to be any chance of a good outcome, he'd probably have to conceive a solution that both sides could accept, rather than depending on Equestria's royalty to come up with something themselves, which would rely on them favoring a peaceful relationship. Somehow, he had to think of something that the changelings could offer the ponies of Equestria, who — in turn — would be willing to part with some of their love for. What did changelings have in supply that the ponies of Equestria would have a demand for, though?

The first thing that came to mind were spies, but he wasn't sure if Equestria needed them, let alone an entire race of them. There was labor in general, of course, but he could see how paying with love — instead of money — could create a problem, whether there were enough job openings or not. Then he thought of another job where a changeling's shape-shifting ability could come in handy: being a stunt double. Again, however, he didn't think that such a profession would have a need for an entire race; he wasn't even sure what kind of film industry Equestria had, if it had one at all.

That last thought made him pause, because it inspired an idea that seemed to have a lot of potential: changelings as movie stars. After all, not only could they assume any role, but they could probably physically portray pre-existing characters — either fictional or non-fictional — with a greater degree of accuracy. More importantly, not only was it possible for all of the changelings to participate, but it was an occupation that could inspire love and admiration.

It seemed like such a good idea that he continued to think about it until he arrived at Rarity's place, where his musings were interrupted by said pony's greeting when he entered her work space. "Oh, there you are, Recherché. I was beginning to—" She peered over her glasses, with an expression that couldn't seem to settle between curiosity and concern. "Why do you look so disheveled?"

Marshall looked down at himself and noticed that his white coat was made grey by dust in a lot of places. Then, he looked at his tail before pushing some of his mane into view, and saw that his hair was in slight disarray in addition to having some dust in it. While he didn't think that he looked all that bad, if there was anything about Rarity that he had learned well in the past few days, it was that she was very sensitive about things that were out of place about someone's appearance.

The problem, of course, was explaining how he had come to be in such a state in the first place. He could have avoided it if he had noticed how he looked beforehand, but he'd never been big on checking his appearance, and his attention had been preoccupied by something that was — in his opinion — easily more important. So, the question was: would it be better to withhold information from Rarity, or tell her what had happened? He would probably have to tell one of the princesses about the situation with Chrysalis, at the very least, if he wanted a decent chance of helping both sides out. However, he had no idea how any pony would respond to it, and he didn't know if Rarity would end up being a help or a hindrance as far as that was concerned.

Because he had taken too long to reply, Rarity narrowed her eyes and asked, "You weren't mistreated by anypony, were you?"

"Er..." Marshall temporized, since he had been backed into a figurative corner. After all, if he lied, Rarity would probably know it. Whether he did or not, though, he wouldn't be able to avoid telling her about Chrysalis, since she was largely responsible for the state of his appearance. When Rarity began to approach him, after putting her work down and setting her glasses aside, he sighed with resignation and said, "I guess I was?"

Rarity sidled up beside him and laid a foreleg over his withers in a comforting fashion, which was at odds with the threatening undercurrent in her voice as she asked, "Who was it?"

Marshall looked away from the hardened expression on her face. While he could appreciate her support, at the same time it made him apprehensive, since any animosity directed toward the one responsible for his unkempt appearance was unlikely to make what he hoped to accomplish any easier to do. When he couldn't think of a way to excuse the perpetrator's actions without Rarity assuming — correctly, to a limited extent — that he did it because he was scared and/or being threatened, he sighed and simply stated, "It was Chrysalis."

When Rarity didn't reply right away, he looked back at her and was able to tell that she was still mentally working over what he had said. His intuition — thanks to his connection with Rarity — told him that was primarily due to both worry and disbelief, which probably meant that she knew about Chrysalis. That was soon verified when she backed away from him slowly while silently scrutinizing him with suspicion. He didn't know what to say or do to convince her that he was himself, so he anxiously waited to see what she would do next.

Fortunately, she had correctly deduced enough about the situation to meet his eyes and ask a probing question. "What happened?"

Relieved that he had a chance to explain what had happened, Marshall did just that: he told her how he had been lured into a cellar, how he had been able to return to his body while under duress, and how that had saved him from becoming Chrysalis' puppet. Of course, he couldn't leave out the part where he had chosen to return to Recherché's body, and had to explain his reasoning for doing so — not that Rarity was made any less unhappy to hear it. Then he got to the part of the story where he got into a conversation with Chrysalis, but he was interrupted before he could elaborate on what they had talked about.

"You two... talked?" Rarity asked, as she regarded him with an incredulous expression on her face.

Now that Marshall was certain that Rarity not only knew about Chrysalis, but probably knew the changeling queen better than he did, he rubbed the back of his neck and modestly replied, "More or less..."

There was a moment of silence before Rarity came to a belated realization, which inspired her to stand on her hind legs and cup her cheeks with her forehooves as she frightfully exclaimed, "Chrysalis is in Ponyville! This is terrible!"

Before Marshall knew what was happening, he found himself being levitated by his own magic and pulled along by Rarity, who had already raced out of the room by the time that he was able to say something, in an attempt to try and defuse the situation. "Um... She's probably already gone, to avoid getting caught."

"That's what she would want you to think!" Rarity responded, as she continued to race onward with a determined expression on her face.

Marshall sighed at his lack of success and wondered what he could do as she carried him out the front door of her home, where she set a course for Twilight Sparkle's castle. He tried to think of a solution, but he was quickly distracted by the spectacle that Rarity was creating as she hurried through a more populated area of Ponyville, since the amount of attention that he was attracting was embarrassing.

Not knowing what else to do, he ended up smiling weakly and waving awkwardly at some ponies in passing. While he could relinquish his hold over himself, which he was certainly tempted to do, he wanted to avoid getting into a fight with Rarity. For the most part, it was because he didn't care much for such confrontations, and figured that he should hear more about Chrysalis before establishing his stance on the matter. In the back of his mind, though, there was also a fear that being at odds with his benefactors could cut his time as an inter-dimensional traveler short.

When Twilight Sparkle's castle began to loom ahead, he resigned himself to appealing to the owner of said castle, who might give him a chance to disclose what had been talked about before she committed herself to taking any action. However, if Chrysalis turned out to be a lot worse than she had presented herself to be, then he would likely yield to Twilight Sparkle's ruling, since she probably knew better than he did on the matter.

As they passed by the house that he had been in earlier, neither noticed the slight shift from the uppermost portion of its chimney.