Plans Change

by Quill Scratch

A Perfect Mask

Act 1
Pride

Chapter 1
A Perfect Mask

It was just like when she was small.

When she was almost ten, Chrysalis’ school had put on a play and, despite the very disapproving words of her father, she decided that she would audition. She had already taken a slip from the packed box of audition scripts pinned to the board outside the drama office and, with many warnings and harsh words from her teachers, spent several days staring into space during lessons, trying to get her thoughts in line with the villain she so desperately wanted to play.

Despite the shudder in her foreleg and twitching spasm of her wing that she couldn't get to go away, the audition seemed to go well. She was unused to being so openly judged and observed, though to her surprise her nerves only heightened throughout the week that followed. Involuntarily, she took every opportunity to glance at the still-empty board where the cast would be posted, despite the hollow fear of rejection in her stomach. When her name showed up - cast as the character she’d hoped to be, no less! - she was so excited that she had to share the news with her father.

“Now, Chrysalis,” he said, his voice patient and slightly forced. It sounded as if he were taking great care over each word he spoke, almost as if he were afraid. “I'm glad you’re enjoying yourself and you've found something you want to do, but you must remember that one day you will be Queen, with your own hive. There will be no time for drama then; it will be your duty to find the hive a place to live and feed before you settle down and raise the next generation. You ought to focus your time on what matters.”

“When I'm Queen,” Chrysalis proclaimed, “I’ll get the other changelings to help me put on plays every month.” Her father sighed, his thorax vibrating visibly; he seemed to be barely controlling his anger, but she couldn't tell why he was angry. All she wanted to do was put on plays.

The first rehearsal was soon upon them and Chrysalis, desperately wanting to do the best she could, pretended to be sick the day before so she could learn her lines. She spent the whole day working on her lines, her delivery and her costume, putting every ounce of effort that she could into it. Her efforts turned the first rehearsal into a joke; the others had barely even begun to look at their scripts, walking aimlessly around stage whilst reading from the book, delivering the wrong lines to the wrong characters. She was shocked that anyone could fail to take their part so seriously as to have not yet learned their lines, or at least to not realise who they were meant to be speaking to. She didn't need her script. She was perfect.

It took some time, but the cast soon began to warm up and feel comfortable in their roles as a sense of deadline-induced seriousness fell upon them all. By the time the play was on, Chrysalis was proud that the cast was more than simply adequate - and the crew were simply superb. They were all ready and brimming with excitement in the half-hour before the curtain rose.

As the first act was reaching it’s climax, Chrysalis was waiting at the back of the stage, ready for her entrance and her soliloquy. She stood atop a small, raised platform, hidden by a few thin curtains, from which she would shortly walk down onto the lower half of the stage as she delivered her monologue. She could hear the play going on in front of her, and it warmed her heart to hear how professionally the others were performing, how far they had come. It was not long before the scene drew to a close and the curtains in front of her began to open.

She was immediately struck by how little she could see; The blinding lights shining down on the stage meant that she simply couldn't make out the audience, like there was a void at the front of the stage, a gap in the world where all the light leaked out. She smirked, tilting her head to one side - she didn't need to see the audience to know she held them in rapt attention, her stance and expression just keeping them engaged enough to hold the pause that tiny bit longer. She let the silence drag on briefly, before knowing that the perfect time to speak was upon her; she opened her mouth…

And her mind was blank.

She could feel the words, her beautiful, perfect soliloquy, in her throat. Her thoughts began racing, the beat of her heart pulsing loudly in her chest. All she needed was the first word, just that one. She just needed to remember it and the others would follow: they would flow off her tongue and she wouldn't be standing here, mute and line-less. She could feel it, the sound, clawing its way up her throat, trying to escape. But it couldn't - she mustn't let it - not without form, not without her line. What was it? The circling, spiraling thoughts flew around her head. She just had to calm down and think, think. She knew this line. She loved this line. This line was why she was here. It was there, in her head; she knew it. Why couldn't she remember it? Was she going to ruin the play? It had gone so smoothly so far, how could she be the one to ruin it? Everyone was counting on her, so what was that line?

Why wasn't anyone whispering the words from offstage? That was the arrangement, right? If something went wrong, if someone forgot a line, there would be a cue - no, no that wasn't it. She had to look to them first, give them a signal that that was what she needed. All she had to do was turn her head, then they would help her-

"The dark clouds..." came a quiet whisper from behind her. She let out a breath she hadn’t realised she'd been holding, relieved beyond measure that someone had noticed, and soon. She readjusted her smirk - she hadn't noticed her face slipping slightly into worry - and the words began to roll off her tongue, perfect and smooth, her face a perfect mask of composure. But behind the mask she was shaking, her heart was beating so loudly she could feel its pulse in her throat. Her lines were a little too fast, now, but she didn't care. She wanted to be offstage again. She needed to sit down, to lie down, to relax so this wouldn't happen again.

Now she was older and this wasn't just a silly school play, but she couldn't help but feel the same way. She'd prepared for this, she could remember that. This was Shining's younger sister - what was her name again? Twirl? No, Twilight - she'd known Cadence. She was Cadence's... she knew this. She'd double checked the day before, she knew Twilight would be arriving.

What was she supposed to do? Twilight had come up to her, done an absurd, childish dance... she'd checked this one. There was something she was meant to say. That all-too-familiar feeling was in her throat, that horrible sense of sound trying to be heard, to claw its way out without control, without the form it needed. Her thoughts began circling once more, trying to find the information she knew she had but simply couldn't remember. But this time there was nobody to whisper her lines to her; she was alone and she couldn't mess this up. Her people needed her to do this, to be the best she could be.

But now she found that the sound had forced its way out before she could stop it and she was speaking. What? What had she said? Twilight was looking at her now, confused. This was not happening, this couldn't be happening. She'd prepared! She'd practiced!

Words kept coming out of her mouth, spilling out without control or care for her disguise. She was treating this unicorn like a stranger, when she should be glad to see an old friend and there was nothing, nothing she could do about it. She remembered, now, what she should have said. But no, it was too late, and now she was standing by Shining Armor's side and Twilight was suspicious and-

It was the rehearsal and Twilight wasn't there. She knew, that was the only explanation. She knew and she was going to tell everyone and it was all over-

Celestia was looking at her with concern, her horn glowing slightly, caring words on her tongue. That this was all for the good of Canterlot, of Equestria. That just one moment would prove her innocence and Twilight wouldn't have to worry-

She was curled on the floor, her disguise gone and Celestia standing over her, preparing to deliver the final blow-

She was on stage, again, but now she could make out the faces in the audience. She could see people turning to their neighbours, whispering to each other. She could see brows furrowed in confusion, so many pitying, awkward glances to the floor. And there was her father. Her eyes opened wide - her father knew the line, he could tell her! - she begged, pleaded, her eyes imploring him to help. And her father looked down, and shook her head. The crowd, the cast, the crew, they all stood and rose together, and walked out of the door-

She was awake. Her breath was heavy, sweat clinging to her coat, her eyes wide and terrified as she looked into the darkness of the bedroom. She could feel, still, in the pit of her stomach the ache of disappointment, of shame. She felt sick; her eyes were starting to water and she could feel her breath almost vibrating as she shook. She scrunched her eyes up and tried to slow her breathing, calm herself and her mind. It was a nightmare, that was all. She wasn't going to fail her people. She was their queen, she had to be strong. Besides, she wasn't a child anymore.

The stallion beside her rolled over, careful not to disturb the sheets.

"Darling, are you okay?" he whispered. She composed herself, put a slight smile on her face and turned herself around to face him.

"I'm fine, dear," she said, nuzzling into his neck. She could feel his concern for her, his desire to protect her even from something as irrational as her fears. She breathed in, slowly, relaxing as she savoured the taste. Such powerful emotions were a rare delicacy when she was growing up; she hadn't had such a stunning meal, even just a short morsel as she was having now, since she was a child. "It was only a bad dream. It's the nerves, you know?"

"You're not worried you're making a mistake, are you?" She felt Shining Armor tense slightly beside her. She sighed gently, timing herself. Too long, and he'd get too worried - too short, and her answer wouldn't sound sincere. She'd been careless lately, having played her role so long she felt she didn't need to think about what she was doing. If her nightmare taught her anything it was that she needed to be on her guard.

"I'm worried that I'm going to make a mistake," she said, softly. She had to get the tone right. If she played it well, this could even give her some leeway if her mask slipped. "I'm really nervous and everyone says that's natural, but what if I do something stupid? What if I offend somepony because I'm too caught up in my thoughts?" She started to increase her pace, let her words run faster and faster. "What if I snap at someone and then Celestia says we can't have the wedding here because I've been an awful public figure and then we'll need to find someone else to hold the ceremony and-"

She'd expected Shining to interrupt her - she'd been letting her breath get more and

more shallow and her eyes widen in panic - but she certainly hadn't expected him to shut her up with a kiss. So much love, with Shining pouring every ounce of compassion he had into that kiss. She'd never tasted something so rich, so strong and so good. It was no wonder that, as Shining pulled away, she instinctively leaned towards him, a slight whimper forcing its way out of her throat. She needed to taste that again...

She soon regained her composure, and her thoughts. She couldn't let herself be distracted by a good meal, no matter how delicious.

"Cadence," Shining whispered, his warm breath softly brushing against her face, "you're the most amazing mare I've ever met. Even if you do something crazy whilst you're nervous, anypony you offend will forgive you. They know how much stress you're under, they won't mind if you snap at them."

"You really think that?" she asked pathetically. He smiled at her and it took every ounce of self-control she had not to smirk. This was hardly even a challenge: all she had to do was act as if she needed him for support and he was putty in her hands. Of course, she couldn't be too dependent: she needed him to think he was important to her, yes, but Cadence was a powerful figure in Equestrian politics, more than capable of holding her own in stressful situations. Still, the occasional need for comfort in times of stress wasn't a weakness, not really. Cadence was only a pony, after all.

"Of course," Shining replied. He brushed his lips against her neck and she relaxed into him, sighing in contentment. There was a short period of quiet as they both listened to the sound of the other's breathing. "Are you okay now, dear?"

"I always feel safe with you," she said with a yawn and a nuzzle. "Goodnight darling."

"Goodnight Cadence," Shining whispered. She allowed herself a smirk - he'd never see it, her head was behind his, and after all she deserved it - and closed her eyes, ready to drift off into sleep.