Seriously, what do we call them now?
Every time Twilight woke up in an evil villain's lair, alone and with no memory of how she got there, she felt like she understood Celestia a little bit more.
“Hey,” Twilight said through the bars of her cell at the strangely luminescent face of her captor. “Remember back in the Crystal Empire? When Spike sang that song and we all decided to give you a chance?” She tugged one leg against the chain binding her to the rough, damp stone wall. “Wasn't that just a nice day? For everypony?”
“I don't know, maybe.” Thorax stared at her through the bars, his giant orange antlers nearly scraping against the dripping ceiling. “I'm not a pony, so I can't really say.”
“Right, right, sorry. My bad. Everychangeling? Everyling?” She shrugged. “I think you should just go with 'everypony'. It rolls off the tongue better.”
Thorax narrowed his shiny, beautiful eyes. “I wouldn't be so glib if I were in your place.” He grinned, displaying a wide row of flat, sparkly teeth, perfect for munching leaves. He lashed his shimmering gossamer tail and said, “If you ponies fail to meet our demands, the consequences will be most unpleasthhh—” he broke off, licked his lips, and tried again. “Most unpleasssthh—”
“Can't do the hissy thing anymore?” Twilight asked, nodding sympathetically. “I know how you feel. Back when I was still a unicorn, I could never get to sleep unless I was lying on my back. And guess how you can't sleep when you have wings?” She lifted one wing as if to demonstrate. “I guess you know that, though. Your wings…” She cleared her throat as she got another look at his weird beetle wings, the translucent tips just barely peeking out past their covers. “Actually, can you guys sleep on your backs now? That must be nice.”
“No,” Thorax snapped. “We can't sleep on our backs. We can barely sleep lying down at all with these giant, freakish antlers!”
Twilight bit her lip. “Ah. I did wonder.” She shifted awkwardly, Thorax's glare never breaking. “So…what were your demands, again?” His glare deepened. Even in the darkness of the dungeon, it was like drowning in purple sunbeams. “It's just…well, I was so scared when you captured us that I didn't hear any of what you were saying.”
Thorax sighed, his face falling. “You were laughing. You couldn't hear me over your own laughter.”
“Aw, hey, that's not true.” Twilight tried to take a step forward, something about Thorax's defeated expression tugging at her heartstrings in an awful, obnoxious way. “That was…uh…screaming. Because we were scared. You just haven't been around ponies long enough to tell the difference.”
“Really?”
“Oh, absolutely.” Twilight twisted her rear leg, the chain making a clear, musical tinkling noise. “So what were your demands? I'm terrified to think of what you'll do if we don't meet them.”
Thorax took a breath, then raised his head and slammed a hoof against the bars, producing a pitch-perfect C#. “One: you will end the hunt for our old matriarch.”
“Well, we're not really looking for—”
“Two!” Thorax continued. “You will acknowledge us as changelings, regardless of the number of sparkles on our carapaces.”
“Is it really still a carapace?” Twilight asked. “It looks a lot softer than—”
“And finally, you will fear us.” He removed his dainty hoof from the bars and planted it firmly next to the rest of his dainty hooves. “Since we are still changelings, we are not to be trusted. You will maintain the belief that changelings could be and probably are around every corner, waiting for unaware ponies to fall into our clutches.”
“We can't really order ponies to be afraid of something,” Twilight said, absently glancing around her cell. It was truly a fearsome room, with a battered bucket sitting ominously in the corner, a rough bench that had to be made of mostly splinters, and of course shackles dangling from the walls. “I mean, we can pass a law, but how could we enforce it?” Twilight gave the chain around her ankle a little yank, and it immediately shattered. She turned around to see tiny shards of glass littering the floor behind her, and half of an intricate glass chain dangling from her leg. She blinked. “Do you guys know how dungeons work?”
“Of course we—don't change the subject. You will submit to these demands or your fates will be dire!”
Twilight padded up to the cell bars and rested a hoof against them, barely even putting any weight onto it.
The bars, which in that particular spot turned out to be a very well-hidden door, swung open and sent Thorax stumbling backward. After a few steps, all four of his hooves happened to leave the ground. Instead of crashing to the floor, he hung in the air for a moment, like a leaf in the wind, and slowly fluttered down onto his back, his legs kicking adorably above him.
Without thinking, Twilight hurried out of her cell and crouched over the downed changeling. “Are you okay? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to push so hard.”
“I'm fine, I'm fine,” Thorax mumbled, struggling to his hooves like a week-old calf. The rosy red colour that covered his chest and lower neck had crept upward and saturated his face, somehow making him look slightly more threatening, like some kind of sun-reindeer. “Get back in your cell or I'll call the guards.”
The thought of more cloyingly colourful neo-changelings galloping down the treacherous, uneven hallway made Twilight's heart skip a beat. What if one of them tripped? They might break a leg. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't form a solid mental image of one of these wide-eyed forest creatures clutching a bleeding appendage and moaning in pain. Like a magic eye puzzle, the different shapes wouldn't come together into anything recognizable.
She took a step backward, and Thorax bit down on the bars with his little deer mouth and swung it closed. “Don't try that again, pony. We have ways of dealing with difficult prisoners.”
She moved back into the center of the cell and sat down. She sighed. “Okay, I think I skipped a few questions. Do you mind if I ask them?”
“Oh, of course, go ahead.” Thorax gestured with one finely-manicured hoof. “I'd be happy to—” He shook his head. “I mean, uh, don't waste my time, princess.” He was probably trying to sneer the last word, but it came out as more of a squeak.
“What exactly is your problem?” Twilight asked. “You're free to live your lives without preying on other creatures for love. I mean, that's your entire species' primary evolutionary concern. Do you even have any other biological necessities?” She shook her head and gestured around the cell. “Why all of this?”
He stamped a hoof. “That'ssph…” His mouth worked in furious silence, the tip of his pink tongue poking in and out from under his teeth. “That is the problem. What do we do now?”
“The same thing as every other creature that doesn't feed on love? Form a society, find jobs, I don't know.” She waved a hoof dismissively. “Ponies haven't really had to worry about food or shelter in centuries, and you don't see us kidnapping ponies. The only thing Canterlot's dungeons are even used for anymore is cake storage.”
A small grin appeared on Thorax's face. Twilight thought that it wasn't fair that any adult male could so easily look more adorable and saccharine than any foal ever born. “Because Celestia eats so much cake, right?” He chuckled. “Your equine extravagance betrays your weakness.”
Twilight shrugged. “Celestia does eat half a slice of cake with her tea every afternoon, so I guess that's pretty extravagant, but we actually just produce way too much cake. Do you have any idea how many ponies have baking cutie marks? Ask anypony, and they either have a baking cutie mark, or know a couple of other ponies who do.” She shook her head. “I've been looking for a solution ever since Celestia let me take a crack at the annual budget. Four hundred million bits just to subsidize an overcrowded industry.”
Thorax tried to snarl, but it looked more like a yawn. “Do you know what it's like to suddenly lose your entire race?” Thorax started pacing up and down the hallway, starting a few cells down and ending at the far end. Twilight had to strain to hear his words while he was at either extreme. “We can't shapeshift anymore. Our horns are gone, and these antlers don't do anything.”
Twilight took a chance and nudged the door open to glance down the unguarded hallway. She considered leaving.
“We demand retribution!” he continued, his back turned to her. “And now that Equestria's ruling class is in our hooves, we will have it!”
“I thought we could leave as soon as we gave you what you wanted?” Twilight asked.
“Hah! You ponies are so gullible. You will submit to our demands—”
“We literally already have—”
“—and Equestria will crumble beneath our might!” He paused to catch his breath. The hallway was very long, and he must not have been used to walking that much. “Chrysalis' plan failed because she forgot about the newcomers.” He began the walk back down the hallway, taking little skip-steps to cover the ground faster. “She forgot about Starlight and Trixie because it's so easy to forget about them. She didn't consider Discord because she thought he was ev—” He frowned. “Am I supposed to acknowledge other villains as evil? Is that counter-intuitive?” He cleared his throat. “And she didn't consider me because without the rest of them, I never would have gone within one hundred miles of the hive ever again!” He finally arrived back in front of Twilight's cell. He leaned in, making eye-contact.
Twilight clenched her jaw and fought her instinct to look away. It was like staring into twin pools of jello.
“I won't make those mistakes. All of your friends, no matter how unlikely, have been neutralized and accounted for.”
Twilight frowned. “All of them?”
“Yes.”
“Even the ones who don't live in Ponyville?”
“Yes.”
“What about my old friends. The ones I haven't talked to in years.”
“Yes, all of them,” said Thorax. “We were very thorough. In fact, maybe thoroughness is one of our new traits.” He hummed and brought a hoof up to his chin. “Not a great replacement for shape-shifting, but I'll take what I can get.”
“What about the friends I haven't met yet?” Twilight asked.
Thorax squinted at her. “Excuse me? If you haven't met them then how can you be—”
“Princess of Friendship.”
He rolled his eyes. “Okay, but that's not real friendship.”
“Doesn't that sound like something that might happen, though?”
“No,” Thorax tried to growl. It instead came out as more of a purr. “That doesn't make any sense. If you haven't met them, why would they come to save you?”
Twilight shrugged and leaned back against the dank cave wall. “I don't know, you tell me, Mr. 'Hit them with some love.' Do you think Chrysalis saw that one coming?”
Thorax opened his mouth for a long moment. If Twilight had a camera on hoof, she couldn't have resisted snapping a picture. “S-she—”
There was a crash at the end of the hallway. Thorax whirled to face the sound, letting out a little 'eep'. Twilight pressed her head against the bars, careful not to push the cage open by mistake. Faint light shined into the dungeon from an open door, and eight pairs of whimsically green legs pranced toward them.
“My king,” the two changelings said in unison, their voices harmonizing like trained Ponytones. As they neared Thorax, they slowed and dipped into little bows. Twilight's heart lurched. It was just like she'd feared! She winced, squeezing one eye shut peering out the tiniest crack in the other. She mentally repeated 'please don't trip, please don't trip.'
“What are you doing?” Thorax demanded. “You're interrupting this interrogation.”
“The pony is interrogating you, King Thorax?” asked one changeling. “We see that she has broken free of her restraints. Are you in need of—”
“No, I'm interrogating her!” Thorax let out a slow breath. “Why have you disturbed me?”
The other changeling stood and bravely raised his voice. “The blue mare, your highness. Trixie. She has escaped.”
Thorax tried to hiss, but it came out as more of a giggle. “How?”
“She also broke free of her restraints. Five changelings fell while trying to subdue her.”
Thorax's face fell. He looked genuinely distraught, and Twilight felt tears prick at her eyes. Thorax asked, “Were any of them injured?”
“Cheta is very upset. Trixie allegedly told her that her eyes look like giant candy drops. She took it very personally.”
“Trixie's got a point,” Thorax muttered, then cleared his throat and addressed the guards. “Send a patrol to check the hive's perimeter, and double the rest of the prisoners' guard.” He sighed. “At least it's only Trixie.”
One of the guards saluted, then turned and left the way they'd come, presumably to relay Thorax's orders. The other changeling asked, “Would your highness like me to re-secure Princess Twilight's restraints?”
Thorax glanced into the cell. “Do we really not have anything sturdier than glass?”
The other changeling shook his head.
“And why glass?” Thorax asked.
The changeling bowed low and said, “As your highness surely knows, our new forms are unsuited to metalworking.” He paused. “Or ropes. Or any implement of bondage more sturdy than homemade pottery. Thankfully, Urite has developed a fondness for glass-blowing. His valiant efforts supply--”
“Just…” Thorax pressed a hoof to his temple. “Just go and double the guard. Even I can't take you seriously.”
The second changeling scampered off without another word, and the two royalty were left in silence. It was an awkward kind of silence.
Thorax turned back to Twilight, his ears drooping. “Please don't escape,” he begged. “I'll even get someone to lock the dungeon door or something.”
Twilight bit her lip. “You…uh…you haven't done anything to suppress my magic, either. That's probably how Trixie escaped in the first place.”
Thorax just shrugged, his head hanging. “There's not much we can do. No magic, remember?” He lifted a hoof and tapped one of his antlers. “And Chrysalis didn't really need to keep anti-unicorn stuff sitting around, what with the giant anti-magic throne and all."
“It was a pretty good try, though,” Twilight said. “You were very thorough.”
“Yeah…”
“I mean, the elements of harmony, Trixie, Starlight, all four princesses, and even Discord. That's impressive.”
Thorax looked away from her, hiding his face. She could barely hear him say, “Well, we couldn't get Discord. We tried, but none of us could find him.”
Twilight nodded. “That's understandable. He's a slippery draconequus.”
“Or Princess Cadance. I sent a group to go get her, but they missed their train and didn't have enough bits for more tickets.”
Twilight frowned. “I really need to do something about the Trans-Equestria train service. It's just too unreliable considering how much we spend on it.”
Thorax dropped to his haunches. “Twilight, I know we don't know each other that well, but…do you think I'm wasting my time?”
Twilight wasn't prepared for that one. She carefully approached the door. “You're doing what you think is right. Even if your actions are misguided, I still think you're a good—”
“Actually, I'm trying really hard to do the opposite of what's right.” Thorax sighed. “We used to be tough. Well, changelings used to be tough. Or at least… I don't know. At least competent.”
Twilight thought that he was giving his race a bit too much credit.
“I didn't mind the change, but, well… Not everybody's happy about it. They kind of got swept up in the moment, you know? And in a second, they turned into… I don't even know what to call us now. And they decided that I should be the king, but I don't even like most of them. That's why I ran away to the Crystal Empire in the first place.”
Slowly, careful not to startle him, Twilight slipped a hoof between the bars and rested it on his shoulder. She could barely reach, so it was more of a pat, really. “You've only been their king for, what, a month? Give it time, Thorax.” She paused, then said, “And maybe don't kidnap the leaders of a neighbouring nation on a whim.”
“You're not mad, are you?”
“I'm a little…surprised? I'm not sure how to feel about all this yet.”
“Do you think Celestia's mad?” He squirmed in place. “Oh, I bet she's mad.”
“She's probably just grateful that you didn't stick her in a goo-pod again,” Twilight said, retracting her leg. She eyed him for a moment, then asked, “Can we leave now?”
Thorax sighed and lifted a hoof, reaching for the door. He stopped, inches from the handle, and his hoof fell back to the floor. “No. Not until our demands are met.” He jumped to his hooves and glared down at her, his legs only trembling a little bit. “Until then, get used to your new home.” He opened his mouth, probably trying for a maniacal laugh. It came out as more of a excited snuffle, like a puppy sniffing at a treat. He winced at the sound.
And with that, he spun and trotted away. Twilight heard the sound of a door closing, and the dim light in the dungeons got even dimmer.
She waited there for a few minutes, mulling over the conversation, then cast her mind out and disappeared in a burst of purple light. She hoped Thorax wouldn't be too distressed.
The changeling hive hadn't changed since Trixie had been there last. Dark, looming, and porous. She peered at its many openings from behind the shelter of a rock about half her size. Changelings buzzed in and out, circling the structure, prowling the perimeter, and flying off in every direction. She pressed herself harder against the ground, wishing she'd chosen a larger rock. They'd see her any second now.
She'd only managed to get out of her cell, through the hive, and halfway to the cliff overlooking the desert before her lungs started to burn and her horn started to dim. She was good at illusion magic, but invisibility was one of her newest, least-practiced tricks, and her inexperience manifested as a sharp stabbing behind her eyes.
A group of three changelings strode toward her. If they hadn't seen her yet, it was only because they seemed completely immersed in conversation, their eyes never leaving those of another for more than a few seconds before darting back.
Trixie teased a bit of magic into her horn and instantly winced. She hoped there would be a bed for her to fall into at the end of the day. More importantly, one for her to lie in while she waited for the headache to go away the next morning. She clenched her teeth, ducked her head, and vanished beneath the illusion. She staggered, a herd of buffalo stampeding over her brain. Then, with only a few hushed curses, she ran for the cliffs.
The illusion boiled and dissolved a few steps away from the cliff's shadow, and she half-dove, half-fell into the shade. She took a moment to savour the feeling of cool sand against her coat. In the relative darkness, she'd be safe from any eyes in the sky, and even if they did notice the speck of blue against the dull orange sand, she'd have plenty of warning as they approached. Not safe, but safer.
After a few minutes of well earned rest, Trixie got back on her hooves and took a good look at the cliff face. Almost vertical and without a hoof-hold in sight, it was pretty much unclimbable, even for an fit, athletic mare like herself. The wall ran unbroken as far as she could see in either direction. If not for the many, many cave mouths at its base, Trixie would have been stuck.
She got closer, peering into each opening. They were all very dark, very natural-looking, and very inscrutable. Like she always did in times of doubt, she puffed up her chest, raised her head, and squared her shoulders. She spun and bowed to the audience behind her, then spun around again and flung out a hoof, gesturing to the object of her next trick. She squinted an eye open and dropped her hoof, the choice made.
Without further ado, she entered the Cave of Destiny, as her hoof had randomly branded it.
To her immediate relief, the floor sloped upward, and cool air blew past her from up ahead. All good signs. As her headache started to fade, she allowed herself a bit of hornlight. The walls were smooth and solid, just like inside the hive. She passed intersection after intersection, choosing the one headed up if she could tell the difference, or the one her hoof decided if she couldn't. It was a tried and proven system, and she passed the minutes by pondering how to turn it into a real, on-stage trick. Something with cards, maybe? Or an audience participation bit? She hadn't done one of those that since her first visit to Ponyville.
She arrived at an intersection of three tunnels, all sloped downward. She turned, bowed—it always worked better when she bowed—and stuck out her hoof. Right tunnel, then. She walked forward twenty steps or more before she noticed the scent of smoke. Smoke and something else. Something delicious. Her stomach reminded her that she'd been in a cell all day and hadn't eaten since the night before. And she'd been at a restaurant with Starlight then, so she had ordered a small salad instead of a proper meal. It wasn't her fault that other ponies ate like birds.
She doubled her pace, her nose pitched upward to capture every whiff of the smell. It was like nothing she'd smelled before. Rich and savory, like a well-seasoned…something. One of those fashionable new tofu dishes, maybe?
The passage veered downward, and before long Trixie was able to make out a faint flickering light in the distance. A cooking fire, of course. Another twenty steps brought her close enough to hear the crackle of the fire, and then close enough to see the long shadows cast over the walls, curved and warped by the natural shapes of the walls. Long, sharp, weirdly familiar shadows. She licked her lips, swallowing to keep from openly salivating.
She turned a bend, and there it was. A wide cavern, a firepit in its centre, and there, spitted over the flames… Oh.
It's incredible how quickly saliva can turn to bile, given the right situation. Trixie gagged and backpeddled, her flank bumping against the curving wall behind her. Above the fire hung a series of small animals, limbs dangling, their pelts charred and crispy, a length of wood thrust cleanly through the lot of them. It might have been panic, or distortion from the flames, but Trixie thought she saw streams of fat dribble from the wounds and sizzle deliciously to the ground.
“Hungry, are we?” The voice came from somewhere to Trixie's left, but she couldn't tear her eyes from the juicy, high-protein crime-scene before her. “You're welcome to a bite, for a modest price.”
Trixie finally managed to divert her gaze and get a look at her company. She almost didn't recognize her.
Chrysalis cleared her throat, raising an insubstantial hoof to her mouth. “Pardon the rhyme. I assure you, little pony, it was accidental.” She took a step forward, her face twisting into an almost familiar sneer. The holes peppering her limbs were ragged, tiny lines running between them and splitting what little chitin there was in between. Her mane and tail hung limp and translucent, her long fangs stabbing into her lower lip with every word. In short, she looked terrible, which, for a changeling, was saying something.
Trixie swallowed, and as soon as she was confident she wouldn't vomit, she raised her head and planted her hooves. “Trixie is not afraid of you, insect. We felled you once, and we can't wait to do it again!”
Chrysalis rolled her eyes. “Yes, I'm sure.” She took a few steps forward. “Say, would you be willing to spare some love? I'm a bit parched.” A few more steps, and the distance between them would be gone. “It's been too long since I've had a sip straight from the source.”
“Why don't you go to the hive? Aren't they all about sharing love?” Trixie glanced around the room. Fire, Chrysalis, bed-shaped lump of goo… “Are you living here?”
Chrysalis circled her, taking long, languid steps. “I'm in a bit of a predicament, pony. Too weak to change shape or overpower even a marginally dangerous pony, and I'd rather die one thousand deaths than accept whatever—” she spat on the floor, her saliva as green as her eyes “—pony trickery those fools were so keen to immerse themselves in.” She slithered closer, and Trixie realized that Chrysalis had circled all the way around her so that she blocked the only exit. Trixie stepped back—back toward the fire and the corpses. “But it's all fine now. You're here, and there's enough love in you to get me into Canterlot.”
Trixie frowned, her fear momentarily forgotten. “Love? Really? For who?”
“For—excuse me?” Chrysalis said, her serpentine tongue caught between her teeth. “Who?”
“Because Trixie will have you know that she and Starlight are completely platonic.”
Chrysalis rolled her eyes and waved a hoof. “You ponies have recently taking to calling 'friendship' what we changelings have always known as 'love'.” She sniffed. “I fail to see the distinction.”
Trixie glanced around. There had to be another exit. Something to throw…to climb… The silence thickened. She licked her lips. Come on, Trixie. Stall. “Trixie is not sure if that's really romantic or really depressing.”
Chrysalis grinned, an expression that looked even less suited to her face now than it had last time they'd met. “I prefer to think of it as pragmatism. After all, it's a simple matter of survival. Do you have different words for each of type of food?”
“Yes,” Trixie said, still glancing around the cave. Maybe if she got on the other side of the fire she could make a break for the exit while Chrysalis circled around? “Pasta, bread, fruit, vegetables…” She swallowed down another wad of bile. “Meat.” How could she have ever found the smell appealing? “How can you say that it's a matter of survival when every other changeling is full and happy without hurting anypony?”
The playful expression fell from Chrysalis' face. “Because those…creatures over there aren't changelings anymore!” She slammed a hoof to the ground with enough force to rattle the skewer over the fire. “They're mockeries of everything my empire stood for, and as soon as my strength returns, I will restore that hive to its former glory, with or without the corpses of my children.” She closed her eyes and heaved deep breaths, her shoulders rising and falling, her head slumped.
Trixie saw the opportunity and bolted. Just a few seconds were all it took for her to fly past Chrysalis' hunched form and descend into the darkness of the tunnels.
She had to get out, get up. Chrysalis was weak. She said so herself. Trixie wouldn't have to run far. She could keep going all the way to the nearest town if she had to. She could find another wagon, replace her hat and cape, and be back on tour before the week was over. She'd been planning on getting back on the road after she helped defeat Chrysalis the first time. Saving Equestria apparently overshadowed whatever stain Twilight Sparkle had smeared on her good name. No more heroics, no more danger. Just Her, Herself, and Trixie.
She rounded the bend and entered the intersection. Was Chrysalis chasing her? Of course she was chasing her. Why wouldn't she be chasing her? Trixie just couldn't hear over the sound of her own hoofsteps and pounding heart. She paused for a heartbeat and glanced around the intersection. The left tunnel led back down, so she went right. Up! She was going up, sharply. Her hooves scrabbled for purchase against the smooth incline, gasping for air. Her front hooves hooked over the top of the slope, her hind legs kicked and slid, and with a renewed burst of energy, she propelled herself over and—
Something grabbed her rear ankles and ripped her back. Her forelegs slipped out from under her, and she crashed nose-first into the floor.
“Not nearly fast enough, pony,” Chrysalis said.
Trixie managed to twist, mid-slide, and see the sickly green glow surrounding her legs. She closed her eyes and wondered what being drained of love would feel like. She wondered if she'd recognize the feeling.
She didn't recognize it.
Chrysalis strode toward the hive, an unconscious Trixie slumped over her back.
The sun was setting, which cast the sand in a blood-red light. Chrysalis clung to that image. Blood pouring over the desert, drenching every grain. She thought about dead puppies; miserable, starving pony slaves; piles of discarded changeling carapaces, representing hundreds of fatalities.
She clenched her teeth, then past them hissed, “I demand that you tone it down!”
The lump on her back stirred. Chrysalis hoped it wasn't the beginning of another fit of giggling. “Hehe, Trixie cannot tone it down!”
“Quiet!” Chrysalis glanced around, but none of the…things around them seemed to take notice. “I can't believe you talked me into this.”
“Aw.” Trixie flopped back against Chrysalis' spine. “Aren't you feeling the love?”
If Chrysalis didn't know better, she'd swear that Trixie was purring. “Just…don't speak. Don't move. Focus on being the corpse you were always meant to be.”
She bit her lip as she passed under the shadow of the hive—the only home she'd known for hundreds of years. And now it was crawling with creatures even more disgustingly floral than ponies.
“Could you at least try to give it a bit of edge or something?” Chrysalis said.
“What, the love?” Trixie asked, then fell silent for a moment. “Is there even such a thing as love with an edge?” She giggled.
Eugh. She giggled.
“Of course there is,” Chrysalis hissed back. “Possessive love, for example. Predatory love.”
A pair of beetle-deer stared at her as she walked past and into entrance forty-three of her hive. She fought to keep her tail from lashing. Being so close to them made her skin crawl, and the waves of sickly-sweet love pouring off of them didn't help.
“You want Trixie to love you like her prey? Trixie is sorry, but she doesn't think she knows you well enough to—”
Chrysalis felt her eyelid twitch. “Never mind. Never—just…forget I said anything.”
She wondered if the past hour or so had been a dream. Food shouldn't smile. Food shouldn't giggle. Food shouldn't give passionate, heartwa—or rather, insipid speeches about doing the right thing and saving the ponies—people, the people—you love. But her food had done all those things. And now here she was.
She'd only tolerated inhabiting the form of that pink pony princess because of how deliciously ironic the whole situation was. This…this was so much worse. She looked like one of them. Every time she caught a glimpse of her sparkly hooves, or her long, smooth antlers, she felt the urge to bathe. And changelings never bathed.
“Trixie loves you, Chryssi, she does, but you kinda smell. No offense.”
“Shut up, pony.”
A few steps into the hive, she turned a corner and entered a large room. A pony might call it an antechamber. There, between them and the opposite exit, stood a solid wall of beetle-deer.
Chrysalis paused, her throat tightening. What were they doing? She sensed movement behind her and turned to see even more of them closing in behind her.
A single beetle—she was just going to call them beetles, because she refused to call them deer—approached them. Blue carapace, green legs and wings, and deep red eyes. A proper sideshow of colours all crammed into one equine. “Report!” it said.
Oh sweet oviducts, she recognized the drone's voice. She used to be one of Chrysalis' lieutenants. Alula.
“I found the wandering pony, ma'am,” Chrysalis replied, picking a random voice. Hopefully their new forms were as confusing to them as they were to her, and Alula wouldn't question her identity. Chrysalis turned to display Trixie splayed over her back. “Found her all the way out by the cliff caves.”
Alula took a few more steps toward them, and Chrysalis nearly gagged as a flood of love crashed into her. She felt a prick of pain inside her skull. Too much, it was just too much.
“Who sent you out by the cliffs?” Alula asked. “I didn't send anyone that far from the hive.”
Chrysalis' breath stilled. Idiot! Why had she been so specific? She used to have changelings executed for disobeying orders that severely. “I spotted her, ma'am. I—”
Alula held up a hoof. Chrysalis tensed.
“Well done!” Alula said, beaming. She patted Chrysalis' shoulder. “You'll go a long way with that kind of initiative!”
A murmur rose from the group behind Alula, and the air filled with congratulations and commendations. Now Chrysalis felt nauseated in a different way.
Alula turned and walked back to the wall of beetles. “Come along, then. Let's get the pony back to her cell.” The group spread apart to let them pass. “And I'm sure King Thorax will want to congratulate you personally.”
Chrysalis started forward. Just as she passed by the beetle formation—
“What do we have here?” called a familiar male voice.
The room froze, save for the constantly shifting sparkles adorning the beetles.
From the shadows of the tunnel ahead, another beetle emerged, and the other beetles all bowed low. After a moment of slack-jawed fury, Chrysalis followed suit.
“Oh, you found her! Excellent!” Thorax pranced forward, his tail flouncing with every step. He smiled at Chrysalis. “I'm so sorry, but I can't quite remember your name.”
She nearly tossed Trixie to the floor in her haste to stop bowing. It brought her a small measure of satisfaction that she was still taller than him, even in her gaudy disguise. “Thorax,” she said. Not a growl, not a greeting, just words. Flat, measured words.
“Mom?”
Chrysalis dropped her disguise, and Trixie hopped off her back. Together, they squared off against Thorax.
Gasps rang out from the surrounding beetles. Several hurried to get between them to protect their king.
Thorax stretched to see over top of the guards. “You're too late, mother!”
From her hiding spot, Twilight could see Chrysalis and Trixie standing defiantly before Thorax and his guards. Not that it took much courage or resolve to face down creatures that looked like Hearth’s Warming decorations and were even less dangerous.
“You're too late, mother!” Thorax said from behind his guards. He had to stretch up on his toes to see past one particularly tall changeling. “Any minute now, Equestria will submit to our demands, and then—”
“You'll be as fruity and spineless as ever,” Chrysalis said. She scanned the sea of gumdrop eyes before her and sniffed derisively. “Perhaps changelings have queens instead of kings for a reason. A queen would never force such horrible transformations upon her subjects.”
“Hey! We didn't choose to look like this. We didn't choose to lose our magic! The only thing any of us chose was to share love instead of hoarding it like you!” A half-hearted cheer puttered up around him. He took the opportunity to shuffle to the front of the crowd. “Sorry, sorry, did I step on your hoof? Oh, your tail! Sorry!”
Chrysalis shook her head. “I can't believe any of you used to be changelings. I pity you.” Her gaze hardened. “Except you, Thorax. This new form suits you. You're finally as useless on the outside as you are on the inside.”
“I'm not useless!” he shouted back, his voice cracking. “We're not useless. We're…we're…”
One of the changelings next to him patted him on the back. “There, there, Your Majesty.”
Trixie stepped forward and held a hoof up to silence Chrysalis. She said, “Trixie knows what it's like to feel the need to prove herself! She used to be just like you, doing mean things to innocent ponies to show them that she could.”
Thorax lifted his head. There was a redness to his eyes. He'd actually been crying. “That's different. You just wanted attention!”
“Hey!” Trixie said, stamping a hoof. “Trixie did not just want attention!”
“Oh, give it a rest,” Chrysalis said. “I tasted your love, and I know that you only talk in third-person because you're so ashamed of yourself that you want to pretend you're someone else.”
“That's rich, coming from Ms. Shapeshifter over here!” Trixie shot back. “If you're so confident, then why were you starving in a cave instead of sitting around here and soaking up free love? You're terrified that without your big, scary bug queen persona, you'll be just as pathetic as Thorax!” A second passed, and she winced. “Sorry, Thorax.”
“Unlike some people,” she sneered at Trixie, “I just have a shred of self-respect.” She turned to Thorax. “That's what really disgusts me about you. Not a drop of self-respect to share between three hundred changelings.”
Trixie snorted. “Heh. Maybe if you guys loved yourselves a bit more, you wouldn't be so impotent.”
“Okay, we are not impotent!” Thorax shouted. “I know that we changed a lot, but that part is exactly the same—”
“Wait, what did you just say?” Chrysalis asked, her whole demeanor changing.
Thorax stamped a hoof. “I said that we're not—”
“Not you. Trixie?”
“What, that they should love themselves a bit more?” Trixie said, narrowing her eyes. She blinked. “Oh. Oh!”
“That's right,” Chrysalis said, walking forward. Her shoulders were relaxed, her strides measured. Twilight had never seen the queen so relaxed. “You were all so eager to share your newfound love that you kept none for yourselves. You tried to replace it with fear…” Chrysalis fell quiet for a second. “Just like I did.”
At first, Twilight thought that it was just a trick of the light—an errant shimmer bouncing off the walls and making Chrysalis' carapace glow a warm orange. But as Chrysalis kept talking, the light grew brighter and brighter, until it was hard to look at.
“I can feel it now,” Chrysalis said, her voice low and restrained, yet Twilight somehow heard it clearly. “There's so much love, right there!”
The crowd of changelings started to mutter and shift around.
“Share it!” called one changeling.
“Don't! It's not worth it,” called another.
Twilight was finally forced to shield her eyes against the glare.
“I could share it,” Chrysalis mused. “I have fond memories of some of you, Thorax obviously excluded.”
“Come on, I'm not that bad.”
“But instead,” Chrysalis continued, “I think I'll save this one for myself. And I think you should do the same.”
“Seriously? Again?” said Trixie, as changelings started to float into the air. “It's only been a few months! Trixie knows you're called changelings, but this is just ridiculous!”
And the room exploded into light.
Thorax felt a wave of relief the second he opened his eyes. His head felt lighter, his body sturdier, and wait, was that— “Magic?” he asked, in sheer wonder at the sensation. It was like a sip of love after a long, hungry winter.
“I still prefer black.”
Thorax blinked and focused on the bizarre creature in front of him. He saw four legs, a horn, and a pair of wings, and that was as far as his vocabulary could take him. Colours adorned her that he'd never seen before. Were his eyes different, or had this second transformation created new colours? Lines started in one place and ended in another, and trying to trace them in between made him dizzy.
“Me too, but it's better than beetle-deer,” he said, then looked around.
The familiar garish colours and soulless eyes he'd gotten used to since he became king were gone, replaced by more…more… “Well, now what do we call ourselves,” he asked, exasperated.
Chrysalis smiled at him, and for once he didn't see fangs. She didn't have fangs anymore. “We're changelings, Thorax. Now and always.” And, sure enough, her graceful, fluted horn glowed green, and she changed into her old, shiny-black self. She let out a content sigh. “I cannot tell you how glad I am for that.”
“What now?” Trixie asked as she trotted up to them. “Since Trixie assumes that this,” she gestured at their new bodies, “solves all of everypony's problems?”
Chrysalis nodded. “I'm happy enough with this. All-you-can-eat love is always welcome, and I didn't have to transform into a knock-off plush toy to get it.”
“And, honestly, I'll take any excuse to call off whatever weird plot I got myself into,” Thorax admitted, rubbing a hoof against the opposite leg. Ooh, that tingled, like static electricity. What were their limbs made out of now? “I was hoping something big would happen and I could claim the whole thing a success, but this is also good.”
“Trixie?”
They all turned to see Twilight Sparkle standing on the far side of the cave. After a few seconds of blinking and squinting, she trotted closer. “What the heck happened to all of you?”
“You don't look so great yourself, Sparkle,” Trixie said.
Twilight closed her eyes and sighed. “Not you. The changelings.”
Thorax opened his mouth, ready to explain and beg for forgiveness, when the unthinkable happened.
Chrysalis bowed.
“Please accept my apologies, Princess Twilight.”
Twilight took a step back. “Uh… Chrysalis? Is that you? Uh… Apology accepted, I guess?” She considered it for a second. “Although you should also apologize to Cadance and Shining Armour sometime.”
“Of course.”
More hoofsteps clattered from a tunnel behind them, and then—
“Trixie?” said Starlight Glimmer as she stepped into view.
“Glimmy!” Trixie shouted, then started moving.
“Glimmy?” Starlight said, recoiling a bit. “Since when do you—”
Trixie tackled her to the ground. “Since Chrysalis tried to suck the love out of her, and Trixie had a life-altering vision!”
“And one of those alterations is that you call me 'Glimmy' now?”
“Apparently!”
A burst of gold magic to Thorax's right made him jump. He jumped again at the burst of blue to his left. He turned to see Celestia and Luna standing over him.
It was a shame he was going to die so soon after turning over a new leaf.
Celestia walked right past him and stopped by Twilight. “Chrysalis, you have done well.” She waited for Chrysalis to bow and get back to her hooves before continuing, “I'm proud of you.”
“Seriously?” said Twilight. “She was a villain until, like, five minutes ago.”
“Which makes her reversal all the more impressive, don't you think?” Celestia said, tossing a wink Twilight's way. “You've done a great deed today, Chrysalis. I hope that we can all look forward to many years of peace and cooperation between the Changeling Empire and Equestria with you in charge.”
Thorax's eyes shot wide open. “Wh-wait, what about…” He trailed off. No one was listening to him anyway. Whatever, he hadn't even wanted to be a king.
“Of course, Princess Celestia. I have a lot of work in front of me. No offense, Thorax, but you didn't exactly leave the hive the way you found it.” Everyone but Thorax shared a good-natured chuckle.
Whatever. Stupid queen.
As Twilight left to find the rest of her friends and Thorax did his best to keep out of everyone's way, Celestia approached Chrysalis.
“Your Majesty?” Chrysalis asked, falling into a half-bow.
“Rise, Queen Chrysalis,” said Celestia. “I think it would be best if we consider each other as equals.” She paused. “Although I do have a request. While deep below the earth, I had a vision.” She paused again, longer and more dramatic this time. “He has returned.”
Chrysalis furrowed her brow. “Discord?”
Celestia shook her head.
“Tirek?”
“No, he's still locked away in Tartarus. It's Sombra.”
Chrysalis nodded slowly. “Why are you telling me? You want our help fighting him?”
Celestia chuckled. “And here I thought you were starting to understand how things work around here. No, I need you to perpetuate the cycle.”
Chrysalis narrowed her eyes. “Perpetuate the—you want me to reform Sombra?” she asked, incredulous. “Seriously? I was evil, like, ten minutes ago.”
“I'm sorry, but there's no time to lose. And take somepony else with you. These kind of things seem to work better in pairs.” She turned and looked right at Thorax. “I can offer a suggestion.”
“M-me? But I already redeemed my entire race!” Thorax sputtered.
“And then almost immediately turned them into bad guys again,” Trixie said as she walked by, Starlight Glimmer at her side. “Sorry, Thorax, but Trixie thinks you're back to square one.”
Thorax sighed, and was then jerked up into the air in a cloud of green magic. He crossed his legs over his chest. “I can walk, you know.”
Chrysalis started for the exit. “You heard Celestia. There's no time to lose.”
“Eugh.”
“Don't worry, you'll be helping Sombra to reform Tirek before you know it.”
“… Eugh.”