UNDRESS
“Time’s almost up. Now or never. We’ll support you no matter what, but I can’t lie to you. I don’t know what we’re gonna be able to do.”
“Celly, hey, c’mere. Give me your hoof, okay? You feel me squeezing it? Remember that feeling. Don’t worry about anything else. Just remember me. Look at me. Remember my face. Remember me telling you that you can do this. Trust me. Have I been wrong before?”
Ocellus tilted her head, watching her own reflection in the pool. Her slender body had grown another two inches in the last year. She suspected she was fully formed now—done once and for all with the constant evolution that plagued her initial metamorphosis. Her light blue chitin was polished, her elytra had darkened into a bloody red, and her legs, long like her former queen’s, had two symmetrical holes in them now, reminiscent of her—of their people’s former appearance.
She examined her face. Her first thought was that she looked about twenty years younger than Chrysalis, but she wasn’t quite sure what exactly that meant, as Chrysalis had stopped aging once she’d reached four hundred. Ocellus’s antlers were the only thing that she recognized about herself anymore; the way that they curved completely around the back and the sides of her head, coming around to mingle with each other between her brows. A crimson pseudo-tiara.
Was this who she really was?
She groaned softly. Fortunately, she was still a changeling. She stepped back and sighed and closed her eyes. What form would she take? Would she use her go-to? No. She couldn’t be recognized. Someone new, then? Or would she reach into her back pocket and pick an actual existing dragon that wouldn’t look out of place inside a cave?
Someone knocked on her chamber door.
“Enter.”
The heavy stone pushed open. “General?” It was a drone. “Sorry for interrupting, but…”
Ocellus glanced at the clock at the corner of the cave. She was going to be late if she took any longer. “I’ll be right out,” she said.
The door closed, and Ocellus plunged into a new form. She disappeared for a moment, and with a flash of light, forty pounds of muscle burst forth, sinewy flesh weaving itself together, bundling up snug against her bones as they reshaped into a bipedal form. When the muscle was done, she chose black scales to cover it, dark and ashy like volcanic rock. She gave herself icy blue eyes, two horns on her head and spikes jutting out of her square jawline. Then she felt heat. Energy crackled and roared in her chest. Inner fire. The thirst for life and its treasures. The passion needed to grab it all. An inherent, vital need to fill the hole in her soul and an anger at the frustration that came out of never being satisfied. More. More. More!
General Ocellus, the Changeling Princess of the Badlands Hive, was now a young male dragon.
He stepped towards the pool as his life came to him in flashes of inspiration. He was born in Dragontown, Central Fillydelphia, to parents he’d never met. He obtained a scholarship to the School of Friendship, and was saddened to learn that the first dragon professor had left only a year before he was accepted. He liked ice cream and was a Buckball fanatic. The pool he was approaching was where his former self would bathe. Now he was using it as a mirror.
He looked solid. He looked real. And no one in Smolder’s lair would ever recognize him. That was important.
He named himself Char.
The reek of sulfur and smoke curled around Char like an old, clingy ex-girlfriend. There was a part of him that missed the Dragonlands, and wanted to come by more often, for his heart cried for the feel of its gravelly, arid winds against his scales, but he knew that any more time spent here than necessary was a bad idea.
Ocellus’s father had been in talks with Smolder about plans for a new hive located in the Dragonlands. A few months ago, King Thorax decided that the changelings needed a second home. The series of tunnels and caves in the Badlands that his people had lived in for their entire lives was on the verge of becoming too small for their burgeoning population, with more and more drones starting families and more every year. Ember was all too happy to oblige, offering them a small chunk of unused space right on the borders of their two territories.
Ocellus disagreed with the whole thing; she could see the merit in constructing another hive, but…
Char shook his head. He wasn’t Ocellus. He shouldn’t have been thinking about her problems. He had spent so many years strutting around in her stiff blazers, trying to look professional for the world, being no one but herself. He had nearly forgotten how to be someone else.
Through miles of obsidian and brimstone he flew. He was surprised to find that he still knew his way around. Every crack and crevice in the stone, every trickle of lava and torn up boulder was a landmark; a map was carved into the Dragonlands, and he used it to navigate himself to his destination.
He could see the Snake Pit from a distance in no time. It was a unique piece of stone-cutting, definitely the most intricately planned home in the Dragonlands. The entrance to the cave was the size of a five-hundred-year-old dragon, and it was carved into the shape of a cobra’s head, maw open and fangs bared. Through it, Char could see the blazing rows of fire shooting down from the top corners of the ceiling, paralleled by rivers of lava on the floor. It was Smolder’s idea of a lighting system. Each hall in her cavernous home was lit this way. Dragon-like. Intimidating. And so overdramatic.
Char flew into the stone viper’s maw. Dragons milled about the polished stone halls, carrying everything from cleaning supplies to scrolls and sealed documents, each dragon with her own job to fulfill in the Jenga tower that was Smolder’s version of bureaucracy and policy-making. She would no doubt be in the throne room at the heart of the cave, kicking her feet in a pretty dress as she sipped cider from a crystal chalice and dictated letters to be sent to her agents across the continent.
I am Char, he thought to himself. I grew up in your brother’s dragon orphanage in Fillydelphia, and I attended the school of friendship. I’m here because I work for the Badlands Hive as a liason. It’s my first day on the job and I’d really like to be able to get back to my boss and tell her I did a good job. What is the progress on the new hive that’s being constructed on the border of the Dragonlands? Are you doing anything to sabotage it?
Because you should. The changelings are hiding things from you. I have a file in my bag that will tell you everything you need to know.
He arrived at the throne room, and was surprised to see that its great doors had been left wide open, and that the hall itself was completely empty.
He landed cautiously. The throne room was as he remembered: obsidian walls lined with the lava streams that bordered the rest of the Snake Pit, and in the middle was an ornate throne made out of the most polished, immaculately white marble that he had ever seen. Gold filigree was pressed into its sides, and at the top of the backrest lay the crest of the School of Friendship. Smolder always had a thing for school pride.
“Looking for something?” came a gravelly, simmering voice that made him shiver.
Char turned around, and was greeted by the most beautiful dragon in the world. That wasn’t an exaggeration, either. She’d been voted Clothes Horse Magazine’s most beautiful dragon in the world for four consecutive years. Age-wise, she had matured to the same point that Dragon Lord Ember had when she first took the Bloodstone Sceptre. Her features were more muscular than Ember’s, but still lithe, and her wings had grown longer and wider. The biggest change in recent years was her legs, which now stood digitigrade as most dragons did past their juvenile years.
Smolder’s scales were orange like sherbert, with warm purple fins that together made the colors of an especially garish sunset. A shimmering gold dress hung over her form, strapped at the shoulders and reaching down to her mid thighs. In the middle of her torso a six-pointed star was cut out of the fabric, revealing the light cream scales of her chest.
She didn’t look like she aged a second since the last time Char had seen her.
Which was never. He had never seen her before.
Char coughed. “Miss Smolder.”
Smolder raised an eyebrow. Her eyes gained a tense look to them. “Lady Smolder.”
“Lady! Lady Smolder,” Char corrected himself. He took a knee and bowed his head. “Please forgive me. I’m really nervous.”
“I’ve never seen you before,” Smolder said. She stepped around him and sat on her throne. Char swiveled to face her. He looked up, seeing her recline in her seat like the queen she obviously thought she was. An arrogant smile came upon her lips. “What’s your name, who are you and what do you want with me?”
“I…” Char swallowed, feeling his prepared speech abandon him. “My name is Char. I’m from the Changeling Embassy. I...have information for you.”
“Char,” said Smolder. She repeated the name, saying it slower each time. “Char...Char...Char…that’s a very special name. Couldn’t say why, though. There’s just something about it that makes it feel... familiar.”
Char’s tail lashed out, preparing to thrash around in discomfort. His eye twitched as he forced himself still.
“Ah, nevermind,” Smolder shrugged. “Alright, so you’re working with the bugs. What do they want?”
“It’s about the plans for the Dragonlands Hive,” said Char. He couldn’t keep a dash of venom from infecting the way he said the prospective hive’s name.
Smolder was silent for a second. Then she snorted. “Go on.”
“They want to know what progress is like.”
“...Don’t they already know?” Smolder asked. “I’ve been working with Celly’s da—with Carapace on the planning.”
“They want me to see if I can get any additional information out of you,” Char said. “They want to know if you’re hiding anything. They suspect you might be sabotaging things.”
“Sabotaging?” Smolder said. She snorted, then exhaled sharply through her nostrils, twin streams of fire trailing out with her breath. “That’s fucking ridiculous. I’ve been more supportive of the damn thing than Ember, and it’s her boyfriend that’s going to be a thousand miles closer because of it. It’s not my fault that every single time we’re close to concretizing the plans, something just happens to go wrong with the zoning, or the water supply, or whatever stupid beauracratic thing is gonna come up next.”
“I agree,” Char said. “They’re yanking your chain. The hive will never be completed.”
Smolder squinted at him. “Explain.”
“I have a document here,” he said, reaching into his messenger bag and pulling out a scroll, “that proves the changelings have zero interest in completing the new hive. I’m...not supposed to be giving this to you. I’m not even supposed to have it.”
“So why do you?” Smolder asked. She slid closer to the edge of her seat and leaned forward. “I know I’ve done a great job spreading friendship to the rest of us dragons, but the fact remains that strangers don’t usually do nice things for you unless they want something.”
Char cleared his throat. “I—I grew up in Fillydelphia. Garble’s Home for Delinquent Dragons.”
“Ah,” Smolder said. She nodded her head. “You’re an orphan.”
“An orphan who you housed with wealth from your personal hoard,” Char added. “I’ve wanted to do right by you ever since I was a kid. I even attended the School of Friendship just to meet you. But that was after you stopped teaching.”
“Ah,” said Smolder, looking away and picking at her nails. She only ever did that when she was trying extra hard to conceal her emotions. “Yeah, I couldn’t be in Ponyville anymore.”
Char’s wings fluttered. “Hurt too much?” he asked.
Smolder let out a “Hah!” and grinned at him. “Outgrew it. There were much cooler things for me to be doing than teaching whelps at my old stomping grounds. Even if it was a ton of fun. Here, let me see that scroll.”
Char handed it to her and watched as she read over it.
“A full transcription of a conversation between Carapace and Lieutenant Cornicle. Where’d you get this?” she asked, poring over the writing.
“Someone put it on the wrong desk,” said Char.
“Really now,” Smolder muttered. She tutted like she had just been told that the neighbor’s kids were misbehaving.
“Can I say something?” Char asked suddenly, leaning forward.
Smolder inched away slightly. “Sure.”
“I think you should ditch the Hive.”
“Why?” Smolder asked. “I want it to happen.”
“But there’s much better things that could be put on that land,” Char said. “A school. A tower. A—a statue to Dragonlord Ember or something. But the Hive would only complicate the Dragonlands. Can you imagine the potential incidents? Our laws are so different from theirs. Not to mention our cultural norms.”
Smolder regarded him for a long moment. Then she smiled and breathed powder-pink fire onto the scroll. It disintegrated immediately, but the ashes drifted in an orderly fashion out of the throne room and around the corner.
“Sent it to my desk,” she explained. “I need to make sure it’s real before I start spreading the news. It is real... right, Char?”
Char bit his lip and shifted his feet. But before he could answer, Smolder had already stood up and offered him a claw.
“Come on, let’s get lunch. I wanna know more about you, Char. I think we could be friends.”
Char took it without hesitation. His heart raced at the touch of her palm.
Smolder took her tea and gemstones in her bedroom, as she always did. It had always been a safe space for her. It meant a lot to be invited in here.
Char had never been in this room before, and for that matter, neither had Ocellus. It must have been new, and—ugh. Smolder’s room was huge. It was the size of a buckball field, with a ceiling as high as the throne room’s. The bed as wide as three yaks and as long as six, covered in lily white silk sheets and surrounded by a veil that was currently drawn open to allow Smolder to sit on its edge. But that wasn’t what was remarkable about the place. What caught Char’s eye the most were the open closets that walled the room, and the hundreds—no, thousands of dresses that were lined up inside of them. Each closet was filled to the brim and bursting with dresses of all different colors and materials, each guaranteed to be of the finest make. Looking into one section was like looking at a vat of rainbow sherbet at an ice cream shop. When did Smolder acquire these…?
“How do you deal with moths?” he asked.
“We don’t. All the ambient heat takes care of any fabric eating pests,” Smolder said with a laugh. “Here…” She clapped her claws, and the empty area in front of her bed came alight with the glowing of a sigil, and from the bright teal light of the sigil a table rose, with two chairs, a steaming hot tea set and a bowl of gems sitting in the middle.
“I hope you’re fine with Kirin Rose,” said Smolder as she took a seat. “Apparently it’s an acquired taste.”
The smell of the tea, like sandalwood and peanuts and perfume all at the same time, made Char sigh in delight. “I love Kirin Rose.”
“Take a seat then,” Smolder said.
Char did. He looked to the floor. The sigil was gone.
“It’s changeling magic,” said Smolder. “Carapace helped me set it up. He’s very handy.”
She poured herself some tea, then poured some for Char, who held himself back from looking surprised. Terrible etiquette. Awful posture and form. Had she forgotten?
Char took a sip of his tea immediately. Like a dragon would. “I thought it was against the rules for Carapace to use changeling magic outside of the Hive.”
Smolder smirked. “You’re right. It’s generally not cool for them to use their newly discovered magic—outside of transformation, obviously—on foreign soil. The General made sure of that. But Carapace is her father and he considers me part of their family unit. So I guess I’m an exception.”
“Family unit,” Char said. “I know you and the General went to school together, but I didn’t know you were close.”
“Oh, yeah,” Smolder snorted. “Made for each other, like couture. But it’s less because of Ocellus and more because Carapace and I have sex pretty regularly.”
“What,” Char said, less of a question and more of a statement.
“Yeah, on this bed behind me. Basically every time he comes over.”
“I...I don’t think I should be hearing about this—”
“You seem like a guy who likes to have a good time,” Smolder said. “And believe me, dude, this changeling’s dick is a good time. A very. Good. Ti—”
Char fell apart in a pillar of teal flame.
Out came the Princess General.
Ocellus stamped her hooves on the table, snorting angrily, her wings buzzing out a low, threatening hum. She glared at Smolder, ignoring the spilt tea that was spreading under her hooves.
“Hey there, bug,” Smolder said. She gave Ocellus a toothy grin. “Nice of you to make an appearance.”
“Do not talk to me that way,” Ocellus growled. “And do not talk about my father that way.”
Smolder took another sip of her tea and then rolled her eyes. “It was getting boring playing pretend with you. I had to find some way to pull you out of your stupid disguise.”
“Oh, I bet you know all about playing pretend,” Ocellus said lowly.
“Why are you here, Celly?” Smolder asked. Her voice gained an edge to it. “Did you miss me? You only had to write. I’ll always have time for my best friend for life and future wi—”
Ocellus grabbed hold of the kettle with her telekinesis, sweeping it up in a bright blue light, and then crushed it before Smolder could finish the sentence. Tea splattered across her legs and chest, and all over Smolder’s dress. Ocellus then threw the shards of porcelain at the dragon’s face.
Smolder shielded herself with a wing. Her mocking grin shrunk into a frown. She put her cup, now with a couple of shards of porcelain floating around in the tea, on the table. “Alright, alright, relax. Wanna chat about the new hive? Then let’s chat.”
“Stop building it,” said Ocellus. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“Makes sense to me,” Smolder said. “You’re running out of room in the Badlands. Why not stretch out, plant some roots next to an ally?”
“Because we need to expand the hive that we already have,” Ocellus said. “Not build a vacation home to make it easier for Thorax to run away to Ember every time he comes across a problem that takes more than half an hour to fix.”
Smolder crossed her arms. “Wow. You’re still zero fun, huh?”
“I’m sorry being in charge of a population isn’t fun and games,” Ocellus snapped. “I don’t even know why you’re pushing for this so much.”
“We’re your most formidable allies,” Smolder said. “It only makes sense for you to have a location where we can protect you and where you can nurture us.”
“We don’t need protection!” Ocellus snapped. “We don’t need anyone else! That’s what I keep telling Thorax! What we need is to prove to the world that we can be more than cute, peace-loving bugs. We need to show them that we can be self-sufficient and that we are formidable allies. The Badlands Hive needs to become a cluster of many. A changeling metropolis. That’s how we solve the crowding issues.”
Smolder groaned. “Look, that sounds reasonable and all—”
“I know,” said Ocellus.
“—But—” Smolder raised a claw. “Your crowding issues aren’t that bad, which eliminates your pragmatic stance; you flip-flop constantly between ‘the ponies still don’t trust us’ and ‘the ponies need to see we’re strong’ so which is it? Because honestly acting on behalf of either one cancels out the other, and besides, you know full well it’s a false dichotomy. You can expand the Badlands Hive and build one in the Dragonlands. And you will. You wanna know what I think?”
“We can’t do both,” Ocellus said. “Smolder, we’re burning enough money as it is on this stupid—”
“I think… that changelings and dragons are at the highest our collective wealth has ever been and only growing,” Smolder cut in. “Look at the room we’re in, bug. Look at this entire cave. Don’t tell me there aren’t rooms like this back home. We’re going to be genuine peers in thirty years tops. I think that you’re being a coward.”
Ocellus grit her teeth. “Fuck you, Smolder.”
“I’d love to, buggy—I miss your kisses...but I gotta say, what you’re doing right now is a big turn-off for me. Pulling this juvenile bullshit—running away from your job to fly on over and interrupt me at mine with bogus transcripts—all because you’re scared. You’re scared because Thorax might make you the leader of the new hive, and you don’t want that much responsibility yet. Am I close?”
“Not in the slightest,” Ocellus growled.
Smolder regarded her for a long moment, and as she did, her gaze turned softer. “Then why are you here, Celly? Why do you keep coming back?”
That was it. A moment of vulnerability. Tenderness. Passionate, burning emotion—even just a spark of it. Ocellus tried to get a hold of Smolder’s feelings, reaching out with her inherent changeling senses...
...And found nothing.
Ocellus realized she was still leaning on the tea table. She got off and began to walk away.
“Where are you going?”
Ocellus did not reply.
“You just tried to get a read on my feelings,” said Smolder.
Ocellus kept quiet. Get to the door. Leave. Leave and never come back.
“It hasn’t gotten any better?” Smolder asked.
Ocellus stopped walking. No. Keep going. Leave.
“It comes and it goes,” she said. “But it’s been gone for months now. Thought it might be easier to detect emotion from someone I used to be close with.”
Smolder sputtered. “Well, why didn’t you just—?”
“This is your fault,” Ocellus said.
Smolder made no response. Ocellus walked to the door, and then waited. Idiot. Why do I always let her talk? This was the rhythm of their conversations. Lie. Get angry. Lie. Tell the truth. Feel terrible. Wait around for nothing. Leave.
“At least stay the night,” Smolder muttered. “There’s a firestorm scheduled.”
“Fine,” said Ocellus. She took one last look at the extravagant room, the comically large bed, and the small dragon beside it. “But I’ll stay in my old room.”
Smolder raised a claw toward her, opened her mouth to say something, but Ocellus quickly turned the corner and flew off.
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Didn't this story used to have more chapters?
That was quite the interaction between Ocellus and Smolder. Looking forward to exploring it even more.
Awww lover’s quarrels, ain’t it cute. Awesome to see an update for this and as always loved the chemistry you’ve got going on between these two and how they’ve grown since the shows finale.
With there talks about expansion and how well they’re countries are doing makes me think that whatever’s taken Griffinstone is working it’s magic here to.
I get that Ocellus probably just feels angry but something tells me from this line that the ruling life has been pretty hard on Thorax since Pharynx dead. Though I’m a huge Embrax shipper so hearing that they’re spending time together is a plus in my books.
Another duo set up, can’t wait to see how Gallus and Silver are doing or how long it takes for all four to meet up but it’s still gunna be a fun time with Smolder and Ocellus til then. Can’t wait for the next chapter my dude
Can a dragon really do it any other way? I mean, even Spike had his moments.
I suppose some habits die hard after all.
Hmm, though...the conspiracies continue to thicken...and now I'm wondering if it was ever due to one sole cause as I had been previously assuming up to now...or if really because of more than one that are happening to overlap...
I dunno if that's really worth bragging about that much though--surely that magazine, even now, still has a pretty small sample size of dragons to be judging as most beautiful, so it's not like the competition was exceedingly fierce, statistically speaking.
But I suppose a win is still a win regardless.
Heeeeeey, somebody else not only noticed that too, but also came to the same sort of conclusions about it, world-building wise!
Nice to see I'm not alone on that detail, small though it is.
Ooh, it's blink-and-you-miss-it subtle, so much so it's not even really a slip-up technically...but I can still see the goof you made there, Celly, in the way you phrased it...just enough of a slip-up to give yourself away if somebody's paying enough attention.
And of course...Smolder's paying attention.
Okay, okay, I get it, Smolder likes dresses.
To be honest, I think you're stressing that point maybe a bit too much here, but I digress.
Hey there yourself. How long did you know, Smolder? Or were you never really fooled to begin with?
Heck, I'm not sure I care--I just know Smolder caught on to the ruse pretty early on regardless.
Actually, that's what I immediately had thought upon learning of the project myself--why would the changelings want to build a whole other hive so far from their own lands in foreign territory where it'd be so much more hassle to do...when they could simply just expand their existing hive to accommodate for their growing numbers?
It's like Griffonstone's sudden modernization--even from the political sense, the reasons for it just doesn't quite add up.
Somebody's been taking a few too many pages from Pharynx's old playbook. Though given circumstances, I certainly understand why. And it's not that she doesn't have a point...though like Pharynx I do feel like she's missing some of what would be Thorax's long standing points in the process. It is possible for the hive to be both of those things, and trying to is probably the best thing it could do.
But that's largely irrelevant for right now--something's foul is afoot that is trying to mess this all up by utilizing it for its own gain and not theirs, that much has become clear...
Lookit Smolder, summing up all the right points.
Though actually, now that I think about it...it does seem weird that Smolder's being the reasonable one here...in fact, Smolder seems much more "let bygones be bygones" than I really would've suspected her to be.
...I don't really know what to make of that.
Man, this story hits like a sledge hammer to the feels.
Can't wait to see what comes next!
I wondered when Smolder was going to reveal she knew that Char was just Ocellus in disguise, and I had a few guesses as to how it was going to happen. Tea laced with anti-changeling disguise potion? Trap chair to force her to alter her form to escape, thereby revealing herself? Hex on the bed that did away with disguises?
Never did guess "You dad dicks me down all day every day". Bravo for the creativity. Sometimes the simplest methods truly are the most effective.
Bro, please be quick with the next chapter,
I blew through this in only a couple of days. Some really, truly great character work here. It basically felt like someone twisting a knife in my heart the whole time seeing the young six so damaged. Gallus and Silverstream slowly reconnecting was really beautiful to see. I did think that Gallus was perhaps a bit overly hostile towards Silverstream though. It absolutely seemed beyond reconciliation of any kind and so the subsequent shift felt a little sudden.
The kelpies memory magic was a really nice framework for going back over the seminal moments that led here and in general the evil presence is really well done. The vast unknowable horror of it all was undercut a bit by the reveal of the mastermind behind it all, but it's still really good.
Smolder and Ocellus here were also really great and it'll be really interesting to see where their arc goes from here. I'm also interested in what happened to Sandbar and Yona, if not dreading it since they had a kid in the FiM epilogue.
Naturally also still worried for Griffonstone and the fates of Gabby, Gilda and Gertrude (Who despite Gilda's warnings did seem to genuinely be a good gryphon).
I also really like the use of the artwork depicting the artefact that represents which character's perspective it is currently and the way they blended together when Gallus and Silverstream were melding.