> A Queen Imprisoned
>  by FakeWolf
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Chapter 1 - Imprisoned
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Everything, and everyone, are bound by their actions. Each move we make another chain that tethers us to whatever destiny or fate we determine for ourselves. Even if our move is simply not to play at all.


I listened to the sound of distant water drip.

I sat on my perched throne within the Hive. Alone.

The last dregs of my Changelings had left the Hive not less than an hour ago, leaving me behind as per my orders. The Changelings were to fly far from the Hive, splitting into smaller and smaller groups as they travelled, eventually they’d seek out small communities to infiltrate, there, they’d live out the rest of their days. Hopefully they’d survive for more than a year.

I listened as water dripped from the Hive’s ceiling as it stormed.

I waited, patiently, I’d gorged myself on as much love as we could afford to spare. It was a pitiful amount, really, especially when compared to the heights of power I had achieved over the many years of my pitiful existence.

It wasn’t enough to ensure I’d survive what was coming, but that was never in the plan and if it ever came down to it I would admit I was proud of that. That my gluttony had not corrupted me beyond what it meant to be a Changeling.

I heard the sound of thunder, and I judged that the storm was now right on top of the Hive.

They’d brought a storm with them, it was an expected maneuver - they likely guessed they’d be meeting the most aggressive resistance we could conjure, and storms did well to render a Changeling unable to fly.

Storms did terrible things to our gossamer wings, and while a Pegasi might not want to fly in a storm either they could afford weather proofed materials and superior training to carry them through it.

The Pegasi numbers would still be heavily reduced though, many would keep low to the ground and fight with their Earth Pony and Unicorn brethren.

It was something we had counted on, if they brought the storm with them to the Hive they wouldn’t be able to field their aerial force at their best. If they couldn’t place their best in the air then hopefully, hopefully, we would be able to escape the Hive and gather enough distance before they gave chase.

The sound of hooves echoed distantly.

Personally, I was here to buy them as much time as I could, and if all went according to plan then maybe the Ponies would leave my Changelings alone. For now.

Until Ponies discovered Changelings living in their villages, that is, and whoever they discovered fled for their lives.

Until someone noticed the rising trend of finding Changelings in remote, small communities and decided there needed to be an investigation. An inquisition if they decided to be blatant about it. Ponies always had trouble accepting anything outside their own little world, so much so it was baked into their language as much as their government. Large weather control industry - “wild” weather was dangerous, very few ambassadors and proper international diplomatic channels - well, the common pony citizen was fine, and the way they talked , how it infuriated me- anypony could be loved, everypony had a place in the world, somepony you haven’t met yet is just a friend waiting to be made. So them deciding to chase out or imprison any Changeling caught living amongst them wasn't hard for me to imagine. Especially after all that led to this.

The sound of hooves halted outside the throne room.

Were they worried about the lack of Changelings perhaps? Fearing some sort of ambush? We had considered going such a route but… it wasn’t a plan that would work.

Nothing would work. 

Nothing but this.

Hopefully.

The grand door opened and through it stepped an alicorn of midnight blue. Behind her an army’s worth of Ponies.

“Chrysalis, your reign of terror has come to an end. Submit and we will be merciful.” Princess Luna's voice was noble, proud, and strengthened by a warrior's spirit and resolve. She would not back down no matter the challenge I propsed. She would see me defeated here.

I rose from my throne and stood to my full height. They had given only an illusion of choice, even if they believed they had truly given me the option it was a mere illusion of one at best. I had made this decision long before my Changelings had fled the Hive. Long before the Ponies marched on my doorstep. I stared into the eyes of the alicorn as I spoke, “No.”

Princess Luna’s horn lit with magic, I leapt into the air and took flight. The Equestian soldiers roared. Our battle begun.







The cadence of marching hoofbeats could be heard throughout Canterlot. A proud, victorious and steady rhythm, accompanied by the chorus of cheers given by the civilian crowd that met them. The image of the Royal Equestrian Army returning home from the final conflict with their dreaded enemy would be burned into the minds of many a young foal and inspired composer. The celebrations and cheers that welcomed the returning heroes of war would be savoured by many Ponies. It would not be inaccurate to say that there was nopony in the city who did not welcome the victory the returning army signalled.

There was one, however, that was sickened by the cheer of the crowd and the proud faces of the colts in their shining metal uniforms. Sickened by how the Ponies cheered at the success of their slaughter. I stood and stared blankly forward, letting none of the disgust that rose behind my mask break the surface. I was unparalleled in my acting ability, so long as I was not drunk on excessive amounts of love, and at the moment I was so very starved. Out of the corner of my eyes I stared at the rising spires of Canterlot that had begun to surround me in a fashion far too familiar to what I had seen many Ponies do in the recent months. I kept myself still as I sat in the centre of their stage, the cage they had placed their greatest trophy of war in. The metaphorical spotlight was on me as I was marched through Canterlot by the proud and oh-so valiant Equestrian army.

That the Changelings had lost the war - or the “Great Siege” as we had called it - was not surprising in the slightest. Equestria was a large and lush land, it’s only downside was the inexperience of its army. Hundreds of years of peace and no real conflict outside mock-battles rusted the sword of Equestria, but the thousands of years of experience of the newly restored alicorn sisters that led said army was more than enough to balance out the relative inexperience of those that served them and clean the rust from what had been their favoured weapon in centuries passed.

In comparison we had nothing, and the prolonged conflict of war had been the death of us.

Maybe it was the witch Celestia’s twisted pity that allowed me to live, or perhaps her sister's sadism was not entirely purged when those Elements of Harmony had healed her years ago. But nonetheless, the worst had happened for the Changelings.

Our Hive shattered, our only survivors starved as they were hunted down. Perhaps now any Changelings they captured would no longer be executed at the nearest convenience, now that they were aimless. Perhaps if the Ponies were as kind as they claimed to be they would allow them to see their Queen one last time in Canterlot before the inevitable would occur and I would be separated from them permanently.

I allowed myself a singular sigh as I reflected once more on how everything had gone wrong. The wedding, the war, our plans, our escape and even my last stand. Too many mistakes after too many years, and still I was denied the chance to make right.

I stood stock still when I finally drifted to sleep. Some part of me hoped never to awaken, that they would rip me of my shame and my head in the peace my sleep offered me.

For what good was a failure of a Queen, imprisoned by her beliefs, her actions, and her enemies as well?





I was still in the world of the living when my eyes opened.  

I was still sitting on the platform they had placed me on when I was first captured weeks ago. They didn’t trust me to walk with them on their parade back to Canterlot, which was fair as they would've had to kill me if they wanted me to move otherwise. I was still bound and tightly wrapped in metallic chains, enchanted with magic I had not the power of love to break even if I had still possessed the will to make the attempt. And once again, since the march away from the Hive began I awoke staring forward. Not down at the floor or up at the sky, forwards was where my gaze began and ended. I would not allow myself to bow in my final moments no matter how slight that bow might be. The Equestrians will hear no pleas for mercy, even if I hadn't believed they would just be ignored. I took a breath and reinforced my will to stay strong, to grant them nothing in my final moments. I would die with my head held high even if I had been brought low. No matter how deep my shame or what they offer me, they will remember this moment of silent defiance long after my death. Where the Queen of the Changelings stood still and silent throughout the entirety of their march. Hopefully. Else I'd probably be forgotten before the end of another thousand year cycle.

“The Changelings were no more!” my mind echoed.

That was something I had heard repeated often during the Equestrian’s march home. Perhaps my morose thoughts had brought my memories of those words to my mind. I took the opportunity and downcast mood to ponder how they would choose to do away with the Changeling Queen.

Would they tie a noose around my neck? Would they have an axe or guillotine descend upon me at speed? Would they leave me to starve in a cage, and if so would it be in private or on public display? Maybe something more befitting crimes against the Celestial Throne, like immolation? That last one would be incredibly painful and I hid an internal wince at the thought, if given the chance I decided to avoid that option. The guillotine seemed most appealing right now, as the Equestrians did not practice any traditional Changeling methods of execution, and I doubted the witch Celestia’s mercy would have her capture me alive only to offer me the chance to fight to my dying breath anyway.

My ears twitched as I finally noticed the silence that surrounded us. No sound of thousands of marching hooves, no cheers from an adoring crowd or drunken conversation between two soldiers to overhear. A brief glance to my side told me many things and what had likely occurred. The proud army had gone home, and only a small escort remained to carry me the final distance between wherever in Canterlot I was now and Canterlot Palace.

As my gaze drifted upwards towards Canterlot Palace so far ahead, I could only consider how it was an unfitting place to be my grave, nor could I conceive of it as a fitting place to be where I would last lay my head before my final day. I stared in an emotional haze that was perhaps something akin to longing, although I had been there before only now could understand why it was considered the most beautiful building in Equestria. With all the might and splendor of Equestria on display, it’s opulence and its halls filled with culture and artworks made by long-dead artists whose names could only be found on museums plagues and trivia cards. It was not a place for bugs to be crushed underhoof. It was not a place for bugs at all, they in all likelihood employed a literal army of cleaning staff. All dedicated to the cleansing of any filth that found its way inside the Palace - except for that arrogant Prince Blueblood whenever he decided to visit.

It was beautiful. It was resolute. The pinnacle of Equestrian society. It was a pure place. It was not a place for my kind. How had I once been arrogant enough to claim my own splendor was without match, even while I stood inside those very halls? I was blind then, that was obvious in hindsight, what match was a pitiful and envious insect to this beacon of might?

And here I was, a Queen of nothing besides myself, being carried by a procession of my sworn enemies. Bound and chained and placed on display as a grand trophy of a war that was not as “great” as it would no doubt end up being called. Being marched through the open and awaiting gates of Canterlot Palace.

...

I wasn’t surprised to find more guards waiting for me on the other side of those doors, but what I was surprised to find was that the Captain of the Guard apparently didn’t trust his subordinates to… I’d assumed they would throw me into some sort of dungeon or bring me to the witch Celestia for some tea and scones before my summary execution by her own horn, and while the presence of Shining Armour didn’t negate any of those options… it did provide a certain opportunity.

The Captain definitely shouldn’t have decided to help escort me - no matter what he or others thought of the matter. Hate swirled around him like a storm, and that it was all directed towards me would’ve made me ill if I hadn’t long since stopped passively feeding off of anything I found directed towards me.

But his presence and the stink of his hate gave me an opportunity I hadn’t had during the march, and I found myself thanking my past self for not wasting any energy during the escort and allowing me the opportunity of one last shapeshift.

I tapped the floor of my wheeled platform. It wasn’t a particularly loud noise, but the silence my escort worked in and the chains that covered me gave the sound more than enough opportunity to be noticed.

When the Ponies turned to face me, the ones that had been with me since we entered Canterlot being in a mild state of surprise, I idly noted, they found me staring down their Captain with a question in my eyes.

I tapped my hoof once more before clumsily directing the weighted limb to my gagged mouth.

Watching them confer was a short affair, mostly filled with nervous glances towards their captain before he gave them all a considered nod as his curiosity matched his hate. His magic grabbed a small key that opened up the restraints forcing my mouth closed, any I made a show of working and stretching my jaw as he approached me.

Perhaps it was hate, or perhaps it was overconfidence that led him to standing right in front of me. Maybe he wanted to prove himself unafraid of the monster that had ruined his wedding, to himself or to his subordinates it did not matter to me. What was important was that he had made the mistake of thinking that I was powerless and not merely weakened.

I pulled together the last meager reserves of my magical strength, if this did not work then I’d find myself alive for scarcely a week unless love was fed to me.

I shapeshifted.

Then I kissed him, right on the lips. Nothing special or fancy, just a short loving kiss on the lips that a couple might share. Which was appropriate with who I was disguised as.

That the monster he hated so much had the audacity to disguise itself as his wife and kiss him on the lips, something that no doubt was reminiscent of that dreadful wedding, the days that led up to it, and all that occurred during that traumatic time, and that he knew the monster to feed on stolen love… Well, there was only one response that anyone could imagine in that situation.

Shining Armour released a blast of offensive magic right into my face. A blast powered by surprise and shock and hate and no doubt fear and whatever strange emotions his mind flashed back to. That the magical blast was powerful enough to rip my chains out of their wheeled platform came as a minor surprise to me but I it didn’t matter in the grand scheme of the following events.

I felt my disguise rip away as I flew through the air and collided with whatever wall was behind me. The chains weighing heavily on my injur- more injured form. I raised my head at the sound of heavy hoofbeats as Shining Armour approached me, his eyes blazing with hatred. I sat with my back rested against the wall behind me as I felt blood beginning to pool in my mouth.

My mouth was still uncovered so I decided to make use of it as the raging Guard Captain approached, “My my my, Shining Armour your love tastes so sweet, and to welcome your-” a blast of magic that landed close enough to singe the tangled mess that was my hair but not enough to hit my head cut me off as I flinched away from the blast. Not entirely intentional but I could get away with displaying such weakness here. Shining Armour continued his approach and I took the opportunity to resume my mocking diatribe “what is this? I thought Ponies all treated others with love and tolerance!” the Captain’s horn grew brighter as whatever spell he was charging drew in more and more magic. I took the opportunity to cough before I resumed my tauntings, I took the splatter of blood on the floor that followed said cough as a good sign, "Is this how you treat all your guests? It’s almost as if you want me dead, my dear Shining Armour,” oh how I relished the look of hatred in his eyes, even if the subconscious thought of consuming such emotions made me feel ill, “but I suppose that is the fault of Equestrians. You’re all too caring until-”

A powerful blast of magic to my gut shut me up quicker than I would’ve liked, and I felt bile and blood rising up my throat once more. I bit back on the instincts to hack and cough and clear my throat and mouth of the foul substances collecting within it, although that did not stop whatever mixture of substances from leaking out of my grit teeth like a frog in the paws of a predator.

By the time I had gathered enough strength to not cry out in pain if I dared to open my mouth, Shining Armour was already standing atop me with a blindingly bright horn. I stared up with not a small bit of terror, and with great effort I managed to summon what I hoped to be my best scowl. “Do it. Kill me. Is that not your duty, to protect Equestria from monsters like me?”

Shining Armour opened his mouth- in all likelihood about to offer his own witty comeback- but whether that comeback was to accept or deny my offer to grant me death was a question left unanswered as a voice boomed next to us.

“SHINING ARMOUR!” The witch Celestia yelled. It seemed here too Celestia had to interfere, if only to protect her subjects at the detriment of others.

“She attacked! She attempted to drain my love! I was only-”

“Playing into her hooves, Shining Armour. You are relieved. Return home and remain away from Canterlot Palace until otherwise notified.” when he made to protestest she added with a surprisingly vitrolic hiss "That is an order, Captain Armour." Whether it was her icy tone or the actual words spoken, it was enough to subject Shining Armour to enough shock for the witch Celestia to easily capture me in her telekinetic grip and separate myself and the Guard Captain.

I scowled at the witch as she continued to talk. Scolding Shining Armour and returning me to my wheeled prison. That she had somehow found the time to heal me of the most grievous of my injuries only incensed me further, such magical might and she dares not leave her country or work towards anything grander than the betterment of her Ponies. A waste of strength and magic for something so foolish.

The witch Celestia left soon after I spat that particular remark at her.

It did not take long for me to be dragged away from where I had been attacked by the Guard Captain. The faint ringing in my ears grew quieter as time passed, although for while it was present it was more than enough to prevent the silence that would’ve met me otherwise. The oppressive quiet contrasted nicely with the victorious chorus of the marching army that had filled my ears for so many days and nights. I could hear the soft clinking of chains as they swayed and touched against each other with every rock and miniscule movement of the damaged and hastily repaired platform that held my restrained body, and the meek trot of hooves that now accompanied the tinny chorus. Victory, and in private, failure.

I found myself lost in those sounds, whether my interest was genuine or merely delirium I did not know and could not be bothered to care to know. In either case it had been either too soon or far too long for us to finally come to a stop. As my private musical stopped I found myself focusing on the strangest of sights. A simple door sat in front of our procession, held open by one of the cookie-cutter Ponies in golden armour that dotted the palace like dolls in a fillies bedroom. The door was not ostentatious or grand, nor was it carved of expensive wood or meticulously polished as would be expected of anything in the Palace. it was in fact quite the opposite. It was reinforced with heavy-looking metals but held no gold or ridiculous and frivolous carvings or decorations. It was the kind of door that told you the story of whatever was behind it, despite the lack of words or images that might’ve adorned other doors. It was where you put something you didn’t want to see, behind that door is where things were too-easily forgotten, where the lights were dim and only the very rare Pony ever ventured. The door that would be barely within your perception as you passed it by. The door that broke the ice with conversations of what may be behind it, despite no one present having ever looked at what was at the otherside.

It was far more fitting, and I could feel the wry grin on my bloodied muzzle. A dark and little-used room, where the fallen and arrogant Queen will reside until her end of days. A place that only the shameful would inhabit. Where the bugs that crawled and festered in whatever was left down there for too long. Where things were left to rot. That is what languished beyond that door.

But before I could enter my newest abode, the guards that brought me here must remove me from where I was bound. The earlier display had cowed them, and they struggled to maintain a front of bravery as they worked to lift my watching form off the platform and into the air and onto my hooves. But nothing could hide from my sight, I could see every nervous flick of their eyes and twitch of their muscles. They held the chains that were still attached to the many shackles that adorned me, and I suspected that many of them would’ve hurt themselves if they had to maintain such a grip for long. They feared the weakened Changeling Queen and I drank in the sight of it.

As pitiful and weak as I was, that my captors still feared me sent my heart aflutter.

I allowed a pleasant smile to adorn my face, and those that could see it flinched.

I held myself tall despite how the chains weighed me down and wrapped around me. I did not resist as they led me through what may have been my favourite door if I had ever discovered it at a time where I was free to pick favourites and not merely mourn the loss of them.

I made no move to stop them as they led me down the stairs and the air around us became fittingly dank and the brightly lit halls of the Palace that were mere steps away were suddenly replaced by lighting found only within the deepest of nightmares. The walls were still stone, but no longer were they polished, bright, and shining coloured rock the witch had decided to make their abode out of. The stone that made up these walls were drab and grey, fittingly dark and fittingly dreary.

A note of surprise flickered through me as we reached the bottom of the narrow staircase the door hid. I had expected to be treated to the sight of rows upon rows of cramped and dirty cells. Of the sight of rats running through the filth and rusty iron bars the guards marched me through a corridor too cramped for anyone to find comfort in. What I instead found and had not expected was to be treated to a large and very empty rectangular room. The last third of the room was taken up entirely by a singular cell. A row of bars sat, stemming out of short outcroppings of bricks in the ceilings and walls, separating the cell from the rest of the chamber- yes, a chamber that is what this room was. Not the public chambers used as ballrooms or meeting rooms, but something else, something more akin to a bedchamber. A room that had clearly been expecting an occupant to make its rest here.

The bars that separate me from what I guessed to be my new home did not prevent me from looking into the cell and seeing the large and ratty cot. The dirtied metal of a chamberpot could be seen in clear sight where it was on the floor by the end of the bed and away from the small carpet had been laid down in the centre of the cell. A sink had been planted on the wall outside my cell, in the middle of the space between the cell and the bottom of the stairway to this forgotten chamber. A mirror that looked as if it had not been cleaned for many years rested above the sink, a no-doubt thoughtful luxury so that a prisoner can see how bad they look whenever they decide to wash their face. No other distractions or amusements could be found within the cell or conjoining room, nothing for a prisoner to look at or watch and while away their accruing hours of boredom as they made themselves comfortable and guilty thoughts began to plague them.

I did not stop or hesitate as my guards marched me inside that cell, and as I stepped inside the cell I did something that I had not done in the living memory of any mortal Pony or Changeling. I mentally declared the lands of this cell my own. This cell with its bare and un-accessorised cot, several sizes too-small for someone of my stature, and its worn and moth ridden excuse for a carpet that sat in its centre, and of course let us not forget about the all important chamberpot- the chamberpot that was likely built and placed in this cell several centuries ago and that would not be used because Changelings do not require the chamberpot!

I paused. I took a deep breath, and slowly, ever-so-slowly, released the gathered air through a steadily relaxing jaw.

I kept my eyes closed and my body silent as I stood in my new domain, allowing the guards to remove the chains from my body without issue. If I imagined hard enough I could almost believe I was back in the Hive and was being disrobed by loyal Changelings after a hard day of politicking and managing the growing hive.

But that illusion shattered all-too easily when I heard the cell door close and lock, each accompanied by a loud clang and cranking sound, and the nervous guards slowly removed themselves from my presence. I opened my eyes and found myself alone.

If only I had done so many years earlier.
> Chapter 2 - Weakened
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It couldn’t have been more than a day before I had my first visitor, and it was not a visitor I had been expecting.

A small pegasus meekly stepped into my chamber. Her long mane hid most of her face and she shivered in fright at the dark atmosphere of my abode. She possessed a sort of young, natural beauty about her that in my younger days I would’ve no doubt used to seduce stallions and drain their love.

What was more she was not a Changeling, but a simple Pony. 

I raised my head from its place on the ratted carpet of my cell, and the poor lamb that had entered my den gave a tiny squeak as my eyes settled onto her. “Why do you approach me, little Pony?”

The little lamb spoke something in a voice far too soft and demure for my liking. I kept my unblinking eyes locked onto little pegasus “I cannot hear you little pony, why don’t you come closer so that I might hear you?”

Dutifully, or perhaps bravely and more than anything foolishly, the little lamb took a few fearful steps closer to the bars that separated us, and this she spoke in a voice that differed vastly both vastly and barely at all. The voice she spoke with now was a practiced thing, something that was obviously repeated dozens of times in a mirror at home. It was louder, more forceful, but full of the shaking confidence that came from being too scared to act fearfully. The kind of voice that tried to force confidence and certainty into itself in the misguided pony belief that if they could speak with confidence it would scare away all their fears and she would suddenly find herself unafraid. In reality it did none of that and just made her sound hollow unsure, and a bit pathetic.

“I wanted to know why you attacked Shining Armour...”

I snorted, “Of all that I have done and that is what you ask about? Not why my Changelings attacked you Ponies? Not why we couldn’t peacefully roll over once you decided to put your collective hoof down?” I paused and gave the little pegasus- the little misguided lamb that had found its way here an unimpressed look.

The Lamb shook her head and spoke up with a voice that wasn’t even trying to hide its fear. “N-no, I don’t want to ask about that…”

“Then why ask about Shining Armour? And better yet, why should I tell you little Pony?”

“Because I don’t see what you could’ve wanted by attacking him.”

“So? I still see no reason to play your games little Pony, there is no reason why I should not send you away.”

“You won’t.” The Lamb murmured.

“And how would you presume to know that Little Pony?”

There was a silence before the Lamb brewed up the courage to speak her answer “Because you’re lonely.”

“...”

“I... saw you on the parade through Canterlot and… you just looked so... lost.”

“I do not know what you are talking about, little Pony. You do not know me.”

“Why did you attack Shining Armour, Chrysalis?”

Her voice had lost its shaking qualities. It was insistent. The voice of a concerned friend refusing to be sent away once you told them you wanted to be left alone, almost maternal in a way. It was unfamiliar to me in many ways.

I turned a discerning eye to the Pony, staring down at her with all the disgust I could muster despite where I lay and the condition I was in. “Because, Fluttershy, if I had succeeded in my ploy against Shining Armour I would’ve finally beaten you Ponies.” I answered, and I should have been content to leave my answer like that. Unfortunately, for whatever reason my tongue sought to betray me and something else slipped out. “Alas, just like all the others over the past decade it failed.”

The Pegasus was silent for a moment, I could see the confusion in her eyes as her gaze slowly turned to meet my own. After what felt like years of staring into her eyes they finally widened with the shock of understanding. A tiny gasp escaped the lamb, as if she’d just stumbled across the very worst answer she could've hoped for. “No!”

“I will have my victory, Little Pony, and I will try and try again until you Ponies finally fail to stop me.”

“B-but-”

“But what? Do you wish to stop me, little Pony?”

“Yes!” The Lamb squeaks with a terrifyingly amusing the voice, the fear that clung to her now combined with a horrid mix of desperation. A revolting cocktail of emotions that any Changeling would turn their nose away from and wish to be as far away from as they possibly could.

I took my time to think of my answer, watching the shaking Lamb before me and taking in every minute detail I could about her before leaning in consipritaly.

“How about this, little Pony? You take a step closer and I will whisper to you what I plan to do next. If you’re lucky you might even find a chance to stop me.” A laugh, a scoff, the emotions on my face calculated as to capture her interest as best as they possibly could. A face of smug, decitful arrogance.

The Lamb took a moment to consider my offer, whether it was well-earned fear or simple hesitation I did not know and did not care to, because in the end, her naivety won and she took her steps closer to the enchanted bars of my cell. Slowly, with a predator's grace, I climbed to my hooves and lowered my head to her offered ear.


There was a loud magical CRACK as the enchanted bars of my cell forced my ramming horn back from the gap between the bars it had attempted to force itself through. The power of the magical discharge was more than enough to send me sprawling backwards across the floor of the cell like a fly swatted out of the air. Through the ringing in my ears I heard the little lamb yelp in surprise, shock, and probably a more than healthy dollop of fear at the sudden noise that held a favourable comparison to thunder. When I opened my eyes I found the pegasus staring at me a safe distance away from the bars of my cell, her face plastered with one of the most adorable looks of naive betrayal I had ever laid eyes on, as if she had truly believed my intentions were honest and that she had not merely been another fool.

The sound of a door being unlocked behind Fluttershy was enough to bring a smile to my face despite the mild pain that had blossomed throughout my body.

The cadence of my laughing voice echoed throughout the room as the armoured guards that had no doubt been waiting just outside for something like this to happen piled into the cramped chamber, surrounding the lamb that had entered my domain and creating an additional wall of metal between her and the monster that dwelt here.

Burned, weakened, with smoke rising from my horn and imprisoned where escape would be near-impossible even if I had the will to attempt such a feat, I laughed. As Pony guards continued to file into the room and shout for my silence, for my obedience, for me to bow and roll over and give into whatever wishes they demanded of me like the well-trained dog they no doubt thought I should strive to mimic.

But still their fear permeated the room. Still, none dared to step so much as one hoof past the bars of my cell. No matter how they postured and waved their spears about, none were foolish enough to step closer or place their weapons within my reach.

It wasn’t until their dear Princess arrived that her tin soldiers calmed down and left my chambers, to my annoyance and no doubt her own for having to sort this mess. 

But the gambit had been played, and they would be unlikely to forget what had happened this day. Word would spread and it would only be so long until a Pony made a mistake.

Even if today was not that day.







It was safe to say I found it incredibly strange when Fluttershy returned to visit me less than half a day later.

She stood away from my cell this time, and gave me a disapproving stare. “Why are you doing this?” she hissed through grit teeth and puffy eyes. Had she been scolded for venturing here? What a pleasant thought.

“Because, little Pony,” I drawled, scowling at the Lamb before me, “if I did not do so I would lose more than I already have.”

“And why do you have to win?” She screeched. Upset would’ve been an understatement when describing her.

“Because little Pony, I have my pride, and that is all I have. You may be content to roll over at the slightest hint of resistance Fluttershy but I was a Queen. Your witch Celestia may have her own plans but I bend to no will but my own.”

“So that means you have to die?”

“It is only by your Princess’s interference that I still breathe Pony. I would have rather taken my last breath in the ruins of my hive than be brought here. If she does not kill me herself then I will find somepony else who will.” 

The Lamb was rightfully silent for a moment, and I found myself preparing to settle for some rest once the impudent thing left. But like many of my plans, this one turned out to be another failure, as before my eyes could close I was once more inconvenienced by the Lamb’s voice. “But… why?” Oh pity, shimmering tears had formed in the foal’s eyes, “I want to understand you- I want to help you Chrysalis b-but… why do you really want to..." a gulp, "die?”

“Pony,” I declared, “you are not a Changeling. Nor will you ever be. Do you know what it is to go months without eating? To have nothing to your name but your pride and your infamy? I have lost my Changelings, I have lost my Hive, I have not more than a week to live. I will not allow myself to be denied the rightful death I wish for, the one you Ponies selfishly horde away from me.”

I had hoped the silence my words had brought would be of a more permanent or longer lasting kind, but as patterns show I was distrubed once more by the Lamb’s quiet voice, “What do you mean when you say you only have a week left to live?”

“I will starve before the end of the second week. You Ponies have no love for me to feed on for my nourishment, and I would not take it even if you brought me whatever Pony twisted enough to be capable of loving me.”

Another silence. Another interruption.

“C-can I do anything?”

“Will you grant me my death?”

A long silence, “... No.”

“Then you cannot, little Pony.”

Blissful silence.

“... H-how about a friend?”

If this Pony had chosen to speak in riddles I did not approve of such a game. “Whatever are you talking about?” I hissed.

“I was thinking that... maybe I could be your friend, I-if that's alright with you…” The… no doubt crazed Pony managed to say with the utmost gall I had ever witnessed, all while hiding behind her hair as if she was terribly afraid I’d say no- She wasn’t wrong to be afraid, ideas were already springing to my mind of how I might be able to reach over and strangle this- “Then you wouldn’t be so lonely.” her voice cut through my thoughts like a bell through silence.

I was quick to respond this time, filling my voice with all the vitriol I felt for her at this current moment. “Once more you little Ponies believe friendship will be what will redeem the villain. Prove that everyone can be nice and that all anyone needs is a friend.”

Silence.

“I do not have friends, little Pony. Only subjects, enemies, and victims.”

I hoped that would be the end of that.

Against all reason, it wasn’t.

“... Could you make me your subject, Queen Chrysalis?”

More riddles? No, her emotions told me that for whatever reason this lamb was earnest in her question. It caught me by surprise. Never had I seen a Pony willingly offer to be my subject nor could I see why one would want to, especially now. Despite all the experience I possessed it pains me to say I was quite visibly flustered. “W-why would I do that? Why would you want that? What is your game Little Lamb?” I demanded, my eyes sharpening to an intense focus on the butter yellow pegasus as I slowly regained my footing.

The Lamb had the audacity to give me a cheeky grin as she explained whatever her foolish ploy was. “If I’m your subject, you surely wouldn’t complain about me visiting you… and then maybe I can help you.”

“And why would I agree to that impudent Pony?! Why would I want your help?”

“Because you’re lonely. You could’ve scared me away if you really wanted to. Could’ve refused to talk to me. Could’ve demanded I leave. But you- you didn’t.” She paused for a moment, “you’re trying to make me scared… but you’re not putting your full effort behind it. You don’t want me to leave. Even after you attempted your… plan…” her gaze shimmers with emotion, and the aroma of fear that had cloaked her before like a thick fur coat evaporated away. The fear was still there, but now it was merely something thin underneath the variety of other emotions that were dappled across her like paint on canvas. “... because you were lonely.” She still wore that small, sly smile as she finished her explanation, her voice having spoken with confidence throughout the whole thing.

Confidence she deserved, I decided. For all I wanted to deny it and call it the bravado of a foolish Pony... “So be it.” I scoffed, placing my head high and straightening my form into a position I had taken many times before. “I declare you, Fluttershy, a subject of the defunct Changeling throne. Do you swear to protect your kin, to feed your Hive, and serve your Queen until your end, no matter how long that may be?”

I hoped she’d say no. That she’d pull the rug out from under me and reveal that this was all just an elaborate joke I could escape from.

“I do.” She said instead, her face bright with victory, her voice solemn, and her emotions stilling.

“With those words you have accepted this oath, and henceforth shall be forever bound to the Changeling throne with it.”

The Lamb held that smile on her face as she spoke. “Thank you, Chrysalis.”

“Thank you?” the words felt unfamiliar on my tongue as I rolled them around. How long had it been since someone had thanked me in such a way? Not in obedience, or solemn acceptance, not thanks made in acceptance of what was to be done and for whatever pitiful reassurance I had given the drone about to be sent off to their deaths. But thanks given in… thanks. Earnest. With nothing to gain and nothing to lose.

And as those thoughts rolled around inside my head, I could understand why so many drones had thanked me for the reassurances I gave them before they perished. “I do not know why you thank me, Pony,” I said instead, “you are of a kind I hate. If I was able I would rip your head from your body I would do so without hesitation.”

The Lamb checked the distance between herself and the bars of my cell before taking a deep breath. “... would you really?”

“You think I would not, Pony?”

The Pony was silent for a solemn moment before she brought her answer to light “I think you’d do it because you think you’d have to… not because you wanted to.”

I didn’t respond immediately. Not after a minute, nor after a minute more. Millions of lies spun around my head as I stared at the impudent lamb before me, the Pony that dared to claim some semblance of understanding of me.

A Pony that, at that very moment, for some strange and unknowable reason, I could not bring myself to lie to.

My vision blurred. My eyes stung. Distantly, I could hear the sounds of sobs as my vision was engulfed in darkness.

I only realised the sobs were my own and that the wetness of my face was due to my own tears when I finally sucked in an agonized breath to fill my empty lungs and clenched chest.

The tears continued unabated by my second breath.

And my third.

And the forth.

When, finally, after maybe hours or perhaps only a few scant minutes, but no matter what too long a time to be spent crying, my hacked breathing regained an approximation of regularity, I looked up to watch the Pony that had done this.

Little to no fear still clung to her. Instead the blurry yellow and pink that sat before me was a mixing bowl of pain and regret and sympathy, sympathy! What Pony could have sympathy for a Changeling! What Pony could be so foolish- so downtrodden- so… so kind as to feel sympathy for the Queen of all Changelings! The very same being who had taken and lost so much from eachother-

I broke down into another batch of grief filled sobs.

My younger self would have called me foolish. Said that war with the Ponies should have been easy. That they were nothing more than food, prey, livestock to be toyed with at our leisure.

Toys were meant to be fun! And nothing about this was fun by any sort of definition of the word!

Ponies were difficult and stupid and foolhardy and it was at times like these I wish I had never crawled out of the Mother Tree or at the very least chosen to never deal with Ponies in my life because past me was an idiot!

When my eyes blinked open again, I saw a yellow hoof at the very edge of the enchanted bars of my cell. “I know I shouldn’t be doing this.” Fluttershy began, “but… it’s the closest I can do instead of giving you a hug…”

I just wanted something else to focus on to replace my own self-hate. My hoof inched over and met Fluttershy’s at the barrier between my cell and the outside world.

“You Ponies are too sentimental for your own good.” I murmured through sniffles.

She giggled like a naughty filly being told a crude joke, “If you say so, My Queen.”

“You are having far too much fun with this.” I groused, but I could feel her good humour infecting me.

“Do you wish for me to stop, My Queen?”

“... No.” I admitted, steadying myself and pulling a hoof up to wipe away the lingering tears in my eyes “I will not stop my only known subject from enjoying herself.”

She schooled herself, perhaps enjoying the company of a miserable Changeling Queen far too much than anypony or anyone reasonably should. Such a strange little Lamb that had wandered into my den.

I took a deep breath. 

“I expect you to keep this arrangement of ours a secret?”

“Oh… um, I- I’ll try…”

I quirked a brow at the her, or at least did my best to- grief did strange thing to your expressions, but otherwise relented. I could do nothing if she so chose to tell anypony. I had no real control over her anyway, even if she claimed to be a subject of mine. Perhaps it might even help earn me a swift death if she chose to tell somepony and they came to believe I was poisoning the Pegasus’ mind.

“I have one more thing for you, Fluttershy.” I spoke instead, desperate to keep my thoughts from wandering.

“What is it?” Her voice was quiet, but beneath it there was the keen interest of someone getting a hint as to what their birthday gifts might be. 

“A tradition we must follow. Changelings are given a new name whenever they swear upon the throne. Not to replace their old one, but to represent whatever new oaths they have made alongside all their previous.”

The Lamb slowly nodded her head.

“You may not be a Changeling, but you have sworn an oath to the Changeling throne. As such I must give you a new name befitting your oath.”

Another slow, respectful nod. I felt a sad smile creep across my face, Ponies I had told of this tradition before often questioned it’s necessity, never before had one sat quietly and listened, but then again perhaps that was all the Little Lamb felt she could do for me at the moment. Sit back and watch an old lady indulge herself with old traditions.

“As such, I name you Little Lamb. The Little Lamb that was brave enough to walk into the wolf’s den and had the audacity to become a part of the pack.”

Little Lamb was bashful at the praise, if it really was praise for not even I knew at this point, and with those final words the tradition was once more complete for what will likely be the final time. Maybe Changelings elsewhere will perform this old rite again, they would say the same words and hold it to the same meaning, but it was a tradition that required the Queen and for the Queen to give the name, and as such this would be the final time it was performed in full.







We spoke more of things that held little consequence. She told me of her life as the previous Element of Kindness, she told me a bit about her friends but nothing I didn’t already know. We spent most of the time speaking of animals, and despite the lingering veil of fear that surrounded her I could sense the love she was giving off for her “animal friends”.

“You have more fire in you than I expected.”

She paused at the sudden shift in conversation.

“My spies all described you as shy and cowardly, and you certainly played yourself to my expectations earlier. Barely able to speak to me.”

“O-oh.”

“Now I haven’t had any spies watching the Elements for a long time now. So… where does this fire come from?”

“I… was a nurse.”

I hummed non-committedly.

“A-and long before that my friends were helping me.”

“And this made you able to stare down the Changeling Queen?”

“N-no… they helped but…” 

I waited for her to pick back up after she trailed off, and when she did not the impatience that had doomed me before eventually got the better of me. “Well, what is it?”

“I don’t think I should tell you.”

“And why should you decide what is and what isn’t appropriate for your Queen, Pony?”

“Because…” she hesitated, her eyes shifting around the room and unable to meet my gaze.

“Spit it out, Little Lamb.” I pressed.

Little Lamb answered. Her eyes unwilling to meet mine.

We talked little for the rest of the day, and what was spoken of was soured by knowledge that shouldn't have been shared.

Maybe I still was a fool, even if a smaller one.
> Chapter 3 - Embittered
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fluttershy’s second visit was a pleasant experience despite the nastiness that drenched her previous venture into my abode. A reprieve from the blurred hours that repeated and gathered within my cell like flies to a corpse. Fluttershy had said nothing on what her friends thought of her visiting the Changeling Queen, a refusal to answer that was only tolerated due to her… unique position amongst the remnants of the Changeling Hive.

Perhaps it was the heavy lethargy that was beginning to overtake me, but I could not put in the effort to more thoroughly question Little Lamb. She was nervous, and scared of sharing the opinions of those dear to her, especially when those opinions were of a negative disposition.

Little Lamb was a kind soul, and the fire inside her burned brightly. I could not find it within me to wish harm upon her despite her blood and tainted allegiances. A morose, humourless chuckle wracked through my body. Truly, maybe the Pony’s belief in the redemption of others was not too far fetched when they had souls such as Little Lamb among them, a being so pure in their beliefs that I found myself wondering what beasts that kindness could tame. Could she calm the Beast of Tartarus? Could her fire burn better ways for the forgotten Siren’s of old? Could her song calm the madness of Discord?

A special kind of fire that was bound to kindness. There was little chance a more fitting bearer could not have been found.

But it was not her brand of kindness that could save me, she would raise no spear against darkness. She had instead chosen the path of the healer, to care for the sickly and injured, her nature bound her to her duties, more than inspiring words or wealth could ever sway her.

Just as she had chained herself to her course, I was chained to my own, and there would be no going back. No freedom from this action. Merely regrets for mistakes both present and past. 





The sound of hooves rhythmically striking stone stirred me from my sleep-like daze. My mind returned to the damp and dank cell in which I had dwelt for the last day and a half, so far away from where my hazed and blurred thoughts had taken me.

But it seemed I had a visitor, something that required my full attention. No opportunities would go wasted, not when so few of them grew in these twilight hours.

My groaning, protesting body straightened out into a more regal stance, ignoring the gnawing ache in my stomach that was far more prominent than I was comfortable with. Another signal of my dimming flame and failing body. I had to distract myself before the need to feed became too consuming. My body moved in motions that were familiar, movements and actions I had practiced and assumed for near countless years upon the Changeling Throne. I sat and stared with all the regal might and splendor I could muster at the impetuous Pony that dared step into my domain.

The echoing hoofsteps revealed themselves to be owned by an elegant Pony possessing a coiffed amethyst mane and gleaming white coat, both groomed to perfection.

I offered no greeting to the previous holder of Generosity, who cautiously stepped through the room beyond my cell like the dust on the floor would give rise and attack her if she misstepped into the dreaded stuff.

Our gaze met with sneers on both sides, although of differing intensities. The mare that stood before me flinched and sneered at the very sight of me, her emotions taking control of her whole body as fear and fury and disgust poured into her like an onrushing wave.

A smile tugged at my lips as I did my best to disguise my own sneer of contempt as a simple frown.

Hunger.

“It seems that I am honoured with another guest, how might I help you, Pony?” I lazily drawlled, spitting that last word with all of the disgust and rage that filled my empty stomach.

The fashionista still glared at me in something I’m sure would have been intimidating had I not once been the Queen of all Changelings and her a mere Pony. She spoke slowly, her voice crystal clear and carrying a careful eloquence that must have been the envy of the pitiable Canterlot elites, despite this her voice was high with the emotions of a creature desperately fighting for control of themselves.

“I have come seeking answers, and I will not be turned away.”

“Don’t you all? You little Ponies crawling through the woodwork like roaches, seeking an answer for one thing or another.”

A raised and incredulous eyebrow met my words, it was a practiced motion, describing a haughty and judgemental curiosity. “I was not aware you had any visitors aside from dear Fluttershy.”

“I have not,” If she thought the admission would hurt for whatever strange reason then she was sorely mistaken, what reason would I have to seek the company of Ponies beside nourishment? “but you Ponies are all the same. You all follow the herd no matter where it goes. You may preach the idea that everyone is unique, but you turn and scorn those that go against the grain. I expect I will see many more visitors during my time here, all convincing themselves their reasons are noble and not merely a faint veneer of self-imposed delusion while you gloat over your defeated foes. You two are but the first to arrive and talk with the monster currently chained in your dungeons.”

A pause in the conversation as the pathetic Pony gathered her bearings. It seemed this conversation had already gone awry for her, differing from whatever picturesque fantasy she had assumed would take place in the way reality differs from a dream. With abrupt and apathetic harshness.

I took the pause and the opportunity the disorientated mare had given me to mock, if she was so intent on having words with me she will find regrets in her chosen course. I gave her a wide smile made of far too many sharp fangs to make a Pony comfortable, something I had once practiced in the mirror many, many years ago - partly out of vanity and partly to practice how to intimidate my chosen prey when it came down to it. “I don’t bite little Pony, feel free to venture into my parlor. I’m sure whatever it is you desire we can come to an… agreement… that suits us both.”

It was delightful watching how this mare shivered, like a cold breeze through a crystal chandelier. Cold and dainty, the epitome of what the Canterlot lady was supposed to be I supposed. Graceful and carefully structured even at her weakest. Fragile all the same.

“I…” she spoke, her voice hesitant as she spoke. “I came here to talk to you, monster.” Nothing I had not expected to hear so far, and this one was not so daft to lie to me about her thoughts, “I do not believe it to be very lady-like for me to do such a thing, but I came here to vent. I suppose,”

“... You suppose?”

“Well, I certainly cannot back out now that I’m here, can I?” An exaggerated roll of the eyes paired with a light scoff to hide her nervousness and fear behind a charade of casualness.

I took a moment to look over this mare, from her horn to her hooves my eyes roamed. Taking in how she portrayed herself and what she hid, how her emotions mixed and flared and rolled in a rhythmic dance of nerves.

Slowly, I answered her. “... No, I don’t believe you can.” she had already made her decision, she was bound to it now. As we all were.

The Pony takes a deep breath, I recognise the motions of a beginning preparing themselves to monologue. “You were a monster for interrupting a wedding, as you were for bringing all your Changelings with you. You brought war to peaceful Ponies. We had done nothing to you, and you struck us all the same. Kidnapping and killing innocent Ponies to feed your greed. You are truly the worst creature I have had to suffer through meeting. You're cruel, you care nothing of the countless Changelings you send off to war, nor for the homes and Ponies you destroy with your pointless aggression, not to mention how absolutely horrid you look. Normally, I would ask forgiveness before speaking with such harshness, but I find you to be an arrogant, greedy, cow!” 

“... Is that all you have to say, Pony?” I answer, slowly, quietly, doing my best to seem unperturbed by her words and her ignorance. If this was the ground she had chosen to fight on then keeping her off balance would be ideal, “calling me a monster for whatever action I take because it interrupted your pathetic perfect Pony lives? Your lot is as self-centered as it has always been. You know not what you speak when you talk of suffering. You are not a ruler, you are not a Changeling, the greatest suffering you have ever experienced is far less than the life that was lived by many of my drones throughout the eons of starvation we have struggled through. All while you Ponies sit in the very lap of luxury and dare to scorn us for whatever desperate measures we use to extend our lives. I may call myself a monster, and I have made many mistakes in my long life, have no doubt, but you Ponies are far worse than I.”

The Pony reeled ever-so-slightly, but swiftly brought down a mask of haughty, self-assured ego, the mask of the 'elite' as it were. “Well, darling, if what you claim is true- and I highly doubt such is possible, at least I can be thankful that I do not live under your rule, nor will anypony or anyone else for that matter.”

She raised an air of ‘polite’ superiority. The aura that the nobles and elites of Canterlot spent their entire life learning how to control, maintain, and manipulate.

An air that I crushed with a glare, she may have been a part of the high society of Canterlot but I was a Queen. She had trespassed into my domain, she had no power here. “Your words only show how small minded you are, could you even imagine how you would fair as a Changeling? If your bubble of Pony interests allows you to be capable of such an accomplishment that is, and your tyrants do not brainwash you with more propaganda before you finish the thought.”

“How dare you! Princess Celestia is far kinder than you could ever be, she is surely no tyrant!”

“What is she then, a mother to your nation? Is that what she is to you?” I gave her no time to answer, I did not care for the idiotic opinions of this mare. “Well hear this Pony, my actions may have led to the death and suffering of my kind, but many still insisted on my title as Mother and Grand Matriarch. Perhaps some still live and call me such things as they speak my name along with that of the Mother Tree.”

The mare continued her glare in my direction, her jaw clenched as she stared me down. “I would appreciate it if at the very least you could call me by my name, Chrysalis.”

“You do not deserve the honour, Pony.”

“Honour?! I hardly believe it could be described as an honour for the monster who caused a war to learn my name!”

“I know your name, Pony,” I hissed, “I know who you are and what you have done. I know you once held the Element of Generosity as I also know that you have lost it. You have no fire within you. You are not a creature worthy of my respect.”

Sapphire eyes narrowed at me as rage boiled and bubbled inside her. “Whatever do you mean by ‘lost it’? The Elements may no longer all have bearers but I do believe I still embody the spirit of Generosity.”

“Is that so, Pony? And would you describe scheming with nobles, the rich, and all those of influence in your pitiful nation, all to support a war you apparently scorn me for starting, is that an act of generosity to you? Is that what you called your pretty words and dresses as you climbed ever higher up Canterlot’s social ladder?”

The mare released an irritated huff, as if she were having to explain something simple to a child for the thirteenth time, but the emotional pain still stung deep. She may be able to deceive a Pony but she could not deceive an empath. “There is more to generosity than you could possibly ever know.” a scowl and a scoff as she began to rant, “It is about making the time to see and help my friends! It is about offering the hoof of friendship to anypony I come across!

“I admit I may not have been a paragon of generosity...” she says as if it is some awful truth, her voice losing the angry energy of her rant as a calm coldness takes over, “but as Princess Celestia explained to my friends and I many moons ago, the Elements chose us for our potential, not for what was already there. I possessed a bud of true generosity in me, and that bud is something I am proud to have nurtured and shared!” Her glared sharpened, “Unlike you and your greed. You Changelings never wanted peace, you wanted Equestria and everypony in it. If you had your way I have no doubt Equestria would resemble something truly apocalyptic long before you were done.”

Her words caused me pause. Although I did not want to admit it… she had a point, whether I wanted to admit it aloud or not. Unfortunately, you did not have to be right to argue. “‘Offering the hoof of friendship to anypony you come across’, how very Pony of you. Your words say one thing but I see little action behind them, where was the generosity of Equestria when Changelings starved for hundreds of years? Nowhere.” I glared at the defiant Pony, “You horde all you can get your filthy Pony hooves on, land, gems, magic, your nation has even forced nature to bend to its will for greed, blinding yourself in the belief that it is the natural order of things. ‘Ponies keep the world turning’ your school teachers no doubt say.”

“I fail to see what you mean, Ponies share all the time. Had you Changelings merely asked for our assistance maybe such a fate would not have fallen upon your subjects.”

“Your words reveal your own failure, you believe the entire world centres around you. Have you ever left Equestria, Pony, do you know anyone who has?”

“Travel outside of Equestria is quite uncommon, I’m aware. Off the top of my head I can only recall two or three who have ever had their own travels outside of Equestria, although I fail to see where you are going with this nonsense.”

“It is because Equestria hordes and claims everything you Ponies find for themselves no matter who was there first, leaving nothing for other nations while you flourish in abundance. Changelings met with Ponies long before that fateful wedding, and you were as greedy then as you were no. If perhaps less delusional.”

“And this is no doubt something you have experience with? Equestria whisking away the love of victims you kidnapped or something equally despicable we put a stop to.”

“No, Pony, it was not love you stole from us.” I starred, painful memories working their way through me. It was only during the act of me opening my eyes when I realised they were clenched shut “The Badlands was once a lucious with growth, it held little water but what water it had was enough and far more than what it has now. Then along came you Ponies,” the word was a curse on my mouth ”your Pegasi and your Unicorns. You drained our watering holes, our rivers ran dry of their sources, our plants and unique wildlife disappeared with you as well, you took everything for yourselves and left nothing to spare for whatever ‘monsters’ you claimed lived in those lands.”

A scoff from the idiotic mare, “That is simply prepostorous! We Ponies and our Princesses are kind, we have stolen from no one! It was you Ch-”

“Bunyips. You called us Bunyips then, if my memory does not fail me,” I mused aloud, “shape changers that dwelt in the water and attacked Ponies foolish enough to approach and take from our territory.”

Her lips twitched into a frown. “Why should I believe you? All Changelings are liars and you are no exception. Bunyips are only fairytales anyway, to warn foals not to play too close to rivers and lakes so they don’t drown.”

Hungry.

“Changelings were thought to be fairytales, were they not? Was not your dear Princess Luna once a fairytale as well? Did not the witch Celestia lie to her very own trusted student that her sister was nothing but a fable? Changelings may use deception to survive, but it is your Equestria and your witch Celestia that drenches itself in lies and deception.” My head tilted slightly, as if to study the mare before me from a new angle. “Is it so hard then to believe Ponies once knew us by another name before our re-emergence?”

Her momentary silence betrayed the fact she agreed with the possibility. That she could doubt Equestria and her chosen Princesses.

And what could hold doubt could be subverted.

“Your rulers want me to remain here. No doubt to give me a chance to repent and change my ways.” I began, focusing a razor glare onto my audience. “But I can promise you I will not repent. You Ponies have been the death of my Changelings, I will not accept any friendship from you. I and whatever remains of my Changelings will pledge our lives to destroying Equestria, and once my freedom is obtained it will become very difficult to stop us.” My words were smug, as smug and as self-assured as I could possibly make them. I needed her to believe that I believed I could topple Equestria and escape this cell, after all.

The mare drew herself inwards, skeptical of my words no doubt, her mind weighing what to believe as her emotions ran wild inside her. “... Why are you telling me this? I hardly see what advantage you gain over telling me your plan.”

“Because, Rarity, it is already in motion. My spies are amongst your Palace already, replacing trusted faces with nothing but lies. How long do you think it would take for me to escape this prison and disappear?” I had no spies in the Palace, to my knowledge at least. Perhaps some foolish drone had taken it upon themselves to sneak in, but it was unlikely they’d meet with any success.

She didn’t need to know that however, and a paranoid Pony was almost as useful as an Infiltrator. With how the mare’s emotions tumbled with suspicion, fear, and dread I could congratulate myself on a job well-done.

I had myself an agent, if one in need of a little guidance-

No.

Her emotions had shifted. The paranoia that was slowly forming within her sliced cleanly down the middle, cutting away the emotional rot from her core.

The Pony took a slow breath, her eyes closed, peace returning to her mind.

She spoke a single word. “No.”

I stared at her, keeping my expression firm. Weakness could not be afforded now, anything that gave away-

“I believe you are lying to me Chrysalis. Trying to rile me up and get me to do something foolish.”

My thoughts were still for a second, trying to work out what had gone wrong.

Then the first rule of deceit returned to me; Those unaware of your manipulation are the easiest to manipulate. That meant the reverse was true as well, Those aware of your manipulations are the most difficult to manipulate.

The Pony had been careful of my words from the very beginning! Idiot! Why was I so foolish as to fan those flames?

“I don’t think you actually have any Changelings in Canterlot.”

No! No no no no no! My expression was betraying me- I wasn’t responding to her words.

Save face and give an arrogant laugh? No she’s firm in this belief, unless I could give her solid evidence of infiltrators, but I had no infiltrators.

The Pony spoke more, but I wasn’t listening, my lack of answer had already given me away.

I had already failed.

I had let the opportunity escape me. 

I had failed. Again.

I barely stopped a tired sigh from leaving my body. “What does it matter anyway? If you were to ask your Princesses or their bookish puppy on my words you would accept whatever white lie they tell you. The Changelings are no more. You’ve won. I have nothing. Do you feel the rush of victory in your body, little Pony? Did whatever foolish wish you held come true? Did coming here sate your twisted cravings?”

The Pony had nothing to say.

We watched each other for a while longer. There were… similarities.

Discontent seeped into the air like mould on bread. 

“Did you get what you wanted out of this chat, Pony?”

A silence preceded the admission. “I don’t know.”

A chuckle bubbled in the base of my body. Humourless and dry. What a fucking joke this was. “I don’t know either.”

“... I beg your pardon?”

I don’t think I heard her, “It all went wrong, but where? The wedding? Before that? I don’t know.”

“I’m…”

“Perhaps it was when I climbed out of the Mother Tree.” Another chuckle. I could feel my chest tighten around itself, as if it was harmed by the brutal truth of my words.

Things would have been so much easier. My Changelings would never have suffered. We would have stayed safe in her embrace instead, in a dreamless unborn sleep.

But that was not the case here. The Mother Tree was torn open and we Changelings were born into suffering and a world not meant for us.

I looked up to find the Pony was still staring at me, she held no answer. But what could I expect from a foolish, idiot, Pony?

But perhaps she held a solution.

These bars were enchanted to prevent my escape, but they did nothing to prevent anything from entering this cell.

Most Ponies and most other creatures would consider using magic to combat magic.

Changelings were no ‘most creatures’.

Emotions would be my tool here.

They had pushed bread through my bars before. Food I could not eat, but food nonetheless.

And I was so very hungry.

My second mouth locked onto the prey that sat in front of me.

Perhaps she felt it, the ways her eyes widened, the metaphysical jaw that clamped around her heart.

Her emotions were drawn into me. Not all of it, I had no use for her fear.

She held no love for me, either, so that could not be taken. Most Changelings wouldn’t even try to do what I was about to. It was a desperate and properly idiotic thing to do.

Her rage, her fury, that was my meal.

I devoured them. Her emotions were mine, I would have my take. No one could stop me. Nothing but fear would be left.

It was rotten, it provided no nourishment, it would not extend my life.

I had felt ill just biting into the rotten emotions.

But it left me full.

Full. Of. Rage. 

What was I doing in this cage? Wallowing in self-pity? I AM QUEEN! What need does a Queen have for pity?!

I disgust myself sometimes.

They think they have beaten me? They have beaten NO ONE!

They could not squash my pride, no matter how hard they tried.

WHAt ArE yOu WaiTiNG fOR?!

Magic sizzled over my horn as the Unicorn before me stood petrified with fright.

Attack! Kill! EAT!

I stood on shaking legs.

Even if our body fails, we are still mighty! Teach them!

I lowered my horn.

VICTORY ETERNAL SHALL BE OURS!

I flew straight into the enchanted bars before me, ramming my body into it. Distantly, I felt my body ragdoll across the room as the magic of the bars discharged with a thunderous crack.

I was standing once more before I knew what I was doing. I could hear something screaming as I charged the bars once more.

The bars repulsed me all the same, I heard myself hiss in pain as I once more rose to stand.

Magic discharged, my body flew into the opposite wall.

Somewhere, deep in my mind, I noted the walls must have been enchanted too, else they would have cracked by now. I hadn’t thought to check earlier.

I was already charging when that thought finished.

Pain flashed through my body as one of my legs almost gave out beneath me when I tried to stand again.

Pain is weakness!

I charged again.

Magic discharged.

I stood up.

Pain.

Charge.

Magic.

Pain.

Stand.

Charge.

Pain.

Stand.

I made the mistake of trying to breathe.

PainPainPainPainPAIN-

The world turned black.
> Chapter 4 - Vengeful
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Hive was buzzing with activity. Tunnels were choked with the constant shifting movement of traffic as Changelings carried out their duties with single minded focus. Changeling couriers dodged through the traffic as they delivered their messages, darting in, out, up, and around their kin in a dizzying dance of efficiency of movement that over many years had become just as much about spectacle as it was about speed.

I found myself in one of the larger rooms of The Hive, it didn’t have a proper name but many Changelings referred to it as the “centre plaza” of the Hive. A name dedicated it’s nature as a hub of movement between the various sectors of the Hive and it’s maze ever-shifting tunnels.

I watched the sprawl of the plaza from my throne, the dais it sat upon extended high into the air so that I did not have to crane my neck unnecessarily to watch the activities of the plaza before me.

No Changeling approached me, none stopped to bow or pay respects to their Queen- they had their duties and they would carry them out before allowing themselves to be interrupted by trivial nonsense such as that.

It took me a minute to notice the midnight Alicorn that stood at the mouth of one of the lesser used tunnels. She stood frozen, watching the sprawling mass of chaotic movement before her. Occasionally a Changeling or two would pass her by to use the tunnel she stood at, not one Changeling stopped to glance at or acknowledge her presents on the Hive beyond moving out of the way so as to not collide with the mare.

Finally, the Alicorn finished her out-of-place idle gazing. She turned instead to the single stil object in the crowd Her eyes settling upon me in an even stare. 

No Changeling stopped or paused in the duties to interrupt or acknowledge the Alicorn as she began to wade through the traffic like water. The Changelings idly parted around her as she made her way to the base of my dais.

It was as I studied the Lunar Princess’ face that the thought finally occurred to be how odd this situation was. A certain clarity settling upon my mind as the Princess approached. Why had none of my drones reacted to her presence?

Why was the Lunar Princess here in the first place?

… Why wasn’t I more angry at her presence? She had killed many of my drones…

And I many of her Ponies. War is war.

My gaze settled back upon the swarm of drones going about their duties in the plaza.

“Thou dreams, Queen Chrysalis.” the Lunar Princess spoke from my side.

I turned away from the ghosts that surrounded us, my eyes landing instead on Princess Luna, who floated next to my throne in a sort of serene grace. She did not bob up or down, instead standing as if supported by an invisible platform or cloud.

“Did you expect I would not?”

The Lunar Princess looked slightly abashed for some reason, “To be true we were not sure it would be possible for us to enter your dreams. You are Changeling, and I hold domain over the dreams of Ponies. You are immortal as well, which complicates matters further.” as she spoke I could not help but notice the lack of any emotions within her. Her face moved and twitched, I could see her chest expand with every breath before its slow decompression as she exhaled. But I could not sense any emotions within her, a sort of blindness I had never experienced before. My gaze flickered back to the ghosts beyond us and the mix of emotional soup that was laid out before me as the various sources of emotion mixed together. There was something… off, with those emotions however. They were… lacking. Hollow. Tasteless when I tried to sample some. 

Pieces slowly fell into place.

My eyes returned to Princess Luna. This Luna was merely a projection of the real thing then, not a figment of my imagination. Else my imagination would not blind me so and I would be able to taste the emotions of the Night Mistress.

“Why do you enter my dreams then, Princess Luna?”

“We… wish to talk to thee, Queen Chrysalis.”

I could feel my brow raise, “You desire to ask questions then? Like every Pony that has visited me before you. So be it then, Princess Luna, ask your questions and leave me to my rest.”

“Neigh, Chrysalis. We hath questions for you, true, but we’d far prefer thy company to whatever paltry answers you would offer us in your wish to be left alone. We wish to learn more about you, Chrysalis, beyond what we have learnt during our shared battles and beyond what Equestria would paint you as.”

I blame the dream reality around us for my lack of immediate response.

After the silence fell into an awkward lull I turned back to the sight of my Changelings.

“What is this?” My ear twitched as I registered Luna’s voice and the quiet tink of metal being lightly struck. I turned to see what Princess Luna was asking about to see her scowling at something. My head craned to get a look at whatever had caught Luna’s interest.

A small metal chain grew out of my throne, and extended into me.

It did not end in a shackle or cuff, instead the metal seemed to twist and meld into my chitin in a truly grotesque fashion.

“A promise.” I answered.

Princess Luna was silent once more, and the two of us turned back to the sight of the plaza and the ghosts it contained.

“It is an impressive sight.”

“It is the Hive.”

In the corner of my eyes I could see Princess Luna give me an unimpressed look. “We can see as much, despite thou underhanded tactics in our battle our sight remains unhindered.”

Ignorance, in even the greatest of Ponies. I gave Princess Luna a baleful eye. “It is more than just the location, Princess Luna. All Changelings travel through this place. This place is representative of the Hive. You can learn the desires and needs of the Hive from this room. You no doubt saw that when you travelled through this place yourself.”

“... it was empty.”

“What does that tell you then? The Hive’s halls empty of life, your only option forwards led to my throne room. Not a Changeling in sight.” My words felt acidic on even my own tongue as they slithered from my mouth.

It was a while before Luna deigned to answer. “That the war was hard on you, harder than it was on us.” The Lunar Princess admitted, her voice quiet as she spoke and heavy with an emotion I could not sense. “...and that at the end you fought valiantly for your Hive. Even if you could have chosen to simply flee instead.”

“Not well enough.” I said bitterly. For all I had fought I still lost.

Luna disagreed however. “You equalled our might, even when we had the support of soldiers and you did not. You were weakened as well, were you not?”

“No matter how well I did, no matter what you say, no matter what beliefs you hold Luna, I did, forever have, and always will have been a failure.”

“You still lived, some will believe that is victory enough.”

“I believe otherwise. I should have met my end then, that I still breath is only another failure.”

“Ah, we misunderstood then. However… are thou not victorious still? Your Changelings live, that is what you hoped to accomplish, was it not?”

I refused to let any sort of surprise at her words show on my face, “You seem awfully proud of the fact my Changelings lived, Princess Luna.” my voice warned.

“It would be untrue to say we wished all your kind dead, Chrysalis. Thou kind bravely, if perhaps without honour, until the end. It would be remiss of us to not respect such a thing.”

“Honour is worthless to a Changeling. We fought to annihilate your kind before you could annihilate us in turn. Your Ponies would not accept us.”

“Respectfully, Chrysalis, we believe thou art wrong. Ponies would be unlikely to welcome you with open arms, we admit that much to be true, but they have accepted me even after all the terror I raught. After a thousand years of banishment, after the kidnapping of my sister and her sun in pursuit of an eternal night that may of doomed us all.” she turned to face me, her expression one I could not hope to understand. “They still accepted us, and we have hope they would accept you.”

Her words… it was difficult to tell her true thoughts and beliefs, with her emotions closed off to me as they were. I let out a sigh as my mind turned to consider the facts and determine whether or not Luna’s words were of deception or truth.

Luna had once held the Element of Honesty, and while it was true the Elements had abandoned her with her turn to Nightmare Moon and subsequent banishment, that did not mean Luna was as much a liar as her sister. She was capable of lying, yes, but I knew her actions were always powered by what she believed to be true and right.

She was… rash. Always acting and perhaps spending too little time thinking through the consequences of her actions. 

With much deliberation, my mind responded with the only answer I could ever supply to her. “I will not bow to Ponies, Luna. I have chosen this path, and I would see it to the end.”

The Lunar Princess sighed beside me, “We had hoped thou would choose differently. We will not interfere then, even if we believe thou chosen course to be foolish and unnecessary.”

I snorted, “Foolish or not, I will not be convinced otherwise.”

“And it behooves us to try, and we regret that we could not. Still, we would like to apologise and give thanks in turn.”

“For?”

“We found Ponies cocooned in your Hive. Unconscious, exhausted, and sickly, but otherwise unharmed.”

“It would be idiotic of us to harm our food sources.”

“And we thank you for this, even if we must apologise that we have no Changelings to set free.”

“It was not as if you could take such a risk. A single Changeling prisoner could sow chaos and escape far before they were ever noticed missing.”

“We are disappointed that thou speak true on this matter. At least such times are coming to an end.”

I blinked as her words registered in my mind. “My Changelings were captured?”

“It pleases us to say they were not, Chrysalis. Your Hive yet lives free.”

“Your… letting them go?”

“Officially? No. We cannot manage such political backlash. But we have chosen not to pursue them, and any Changelings discovered will be held in imprisonment until such a time as they can be released, escape, or perish of natural causes.”

I squashed any hopefully feelings lest they betray me. “I doubt that will stop some particularly exuberant Ponies from carrying out the old sentence.”

“It is unlawful for a civilian to take the law into their own hooves, much the same as it is for a lawpony to commit such acts on a prisoner.”

“Accidents will happen.”

“We regret that that may be the case, however much we are disgusted by it. We will do all we can to stop such ‘accidents’ from occuring, and to punish perpetrators of such acts to the full extent of their crime.”

A bitter, scornful, and far too amusing thought struck me. I could not help but laugh bitterly once more. “To think that the one helping my kind the most will be the one who has slain the most of their kin. Is this penance, Luna?”

“Not quite. Although certain ironies do seem far too present throughout history, however grim some of these ironies may be.”

The two of us were lulled into a quiet, my gaze focusing attention back on the ghosts and memories of a Hive lost around us.

“There are… a few Ponies I have come to admire recently.” I eventually brokered.

“Oh? Would we be included upon such a list?”

“No.” I spoke quickly, despite the fact she was.

“‘Tis a shame then.” Her voice was light, “What reason have you to bring this up, however?”

“I… would like to return a favour. You have told me of my Changelings, and in the events you are lying to me… it is a pleasant lie I would choose to believe then.”

“We would assure you we are not lying.”

“Whether you lie or not it matters not.”

Princess Luna frowned at me.

I ignored her. “You may not find this story kind, but it is a Changeling story of two Ponies. One I hope you will appreciate.”

“And these two Ponies are?”

“The Bearers of Loyalty and Honesty, Rainbow Dash and Applejack.”





Like all days in the Badlands it was a dry day in Celestia’s abominable sun. A day that parched the tongue no matter what you drank. I skulked through the ranks of Changelings that had gathered around me, taking note of each and every one of my as they worked in tandem to prepare our trap.

No matter how many times operations like this were performed, no matter how far ahead they were planned or how well detailed their orders were, the organisation of everything became a mess from start to finish. Problems flared into existence like cinders on a fire that wouldn’t be put out no matter how thoroughly smothered, and so those in charge found themselves running about and putting out new fires to prevent the entire operation from going up in flames and the lives of all the Changelings here being scattered to the wind like ash.

I myself was growing increasingly haggard and irritated with this mess. With drones questioning the authority of their superiors and claiming my presence was excuse enough to do so, as if I had the time to sit each individual drone down and tell them what I needed them to do. A portion of my mind was tempted to tear whoever dared to use me as an excuse for their disobedience or ineptitude in two and wave the bits of broken Changeling around as an example that I am not in the mood to be trifled with.

When the next Changeling did run up to me I managed the incredible display of resilience of not shattering his chitin under my hoof, instead thoroughly focusing my mind on the news he brought with him. 

“The Ponies are on their way?”

“Four klicks out, Your Majesty, behind the north hill.”

“Good. Follow through with final preparations. Those that fail will know my displeasure.”

“Yes My Queen.” The drone gave a brief bow before leaving to attend to his duties. I could still hear his low, guttural voice informing everyling present to get into their positions and transform, taking on the shapes of rocks, ruins, and various features that would not be out of place for the Badlands.

What had once been a deserted and empty bowl in the dust and rock desert now seemed to be a desecrated and rocky ruin. Statues of Changelings, some half crumpled and some still standing tall mixed among the rocks and dilapidated walls that now filled the basin.

Anyone with sufficient experience with the Badlands would notice the oddness of the basin, how the rock formations were obviously unnatural and relatively dust free, how many of these ruins when lifted held dust and dirt beneath them as if freshly placed, but the disguise would be enough and do well fool a stupid Pony that wasn’t paying attention and knew little of what to expect from the Badlands.

With a flare of my magic I transformed my body as well and put half my mind to ignoring the discomfort and claustrophobic tightness of the stone that wrapped around me. Focusing what parts of my mind and intellect I could at keeping an eye on our surroundings and the Ponies that were on their way.

It was difficult to tell just how long had passed until the first Pony peaked over the hill that hid the disguised Changelings.

The Pony, a bright blue creature with maroon eyes, looked around at the tribe of rocks and ruins. Apparently finding nothing wrong, the foolish Pony led his fellows down into the disguised swarm of Changelings.

Disguised as a statue of a Changeling mage I only half-remember, perched on the rock bodies of drones, I was given a suitable view of the Pony company that began to investigate the ruins they had stumbled upon.

The Earth and Unicorn Ponies all wore armour that gleamed in the sweltering sun, a trade of comfort for the protection that their pathetic pastel coats could not provide, each of them carried a spear, either in-hoof or tied to their side and ready to be drawn. The few Pegasi in their company wore blue uniforms outfitted with padded vests and goggled helmets, most carried metal blades along their wings or hooves to strike an opponent as they flew by.

Delight crept along my spine as I noticed more and more of their failings, how many of them failed to raise any suspicion about the area around them, how many of them held their weapons at rest, at how their Pegasi stood on the ground unready to make an unexpected escape.

I and my Changelings waited moments more, practically salivating in anticipation as final numbers of the Ponies made their way into the basin as we hid in plain sight.

My eyes crept across their number before finally landing on a particular Pony of interest. Applejack wore armour made of golden metal much like the Ponies that surrounded her, her straw hair covered in a similar helmet to the ones her lackeys wore. What differences there were in design would be how her armour was accented with touches of orange, how her helmet drew back around the cheeks to show off more of her face and most distinctively the plume of red that contrasted the blues of her followers.

Her eyes met mine as I watched her, or rather, her eyes met the eyes of the statue that I hid me. The Ponies and Changelings between us muddled whatever emotions cooked within her, and I never bothered to learn how to read the expressions of Ponies given how useless the skill was for me to learn.

But, I knew, at that moment, the time had come. I gathered my feelings of rage into a tumultuous ball and expelled them from my body in an invisible surge.

To Ponies, nothing would have happened. Perhaps some would have sensed the wave of rage wash over them, but those who did were few and far between and quick to dismiss such instincts.

To Changelings, they sensed and smelt my rage easily, and each knew what that signal heralded.

A green inferno sprouted into life, a chorus of hissing Changelings and buzzing wings filled the air as my kin discarded their disguises and flew into battle. I heard my own voice rise up from the hissing chorus, an echoing laughter as I pulled my disguise apart.

Ponies reared and glared, the more ready and able of them turned to battle the Changelings that swarmed their numbers.

Magic strummed into existence as spells flew through air, and I felt the lyrics of an old Changeling song rise to my lips as the opera of battle swept through everything before me. The sounds of conflict were my beat, my swarm the musicians, magic and might our instruments as we descended upon the foolish Ponies that dared oppose us.

“My darling dears your mother’s here

My love protects you there’s no need to fear

I’m so sorry it all went wrong

Let me sing you a little song

We took the bride I took her form

And all of you prepared a mighty swarm

But our efforts were brought down low

Tears of joy turned to tears of woe.”

My eyes followed the orange Pony that rallied the resistance of our foes, a bulwark of grit and determination faced my swarm. Spells sailed from my horn as I made my way towards their beacon of inspiration, each terrifying spark of fiery green magic felling another Pony as I snuffed out their lives.

“But worry not your mother has a plan

We will return and will take back the land

Strength in numbers we have on staff

So listen close to what I have to say

Prepare to fly and we will win the day

If you’re patient we’ll carry on

And our foes will all soon be gone.”

As the battle raged on a wave of rainbow light spread through the sky followed by a mighty boom. My eyes were dragged towards the distance as a flock of Pegasi flew through the sky towards the battle. Just on time.

“We must be smart we must be wise

we must be quick if we're to claim the prize

Their dear princess controls the sun

And she's worshipped by ev'ryone

Her protege and all her friends

Must be dealt with before the story ends

Careful planning is what we need

This is what mother has decreed.”

The Pegasi charged into us in a show of dramatic fury, pushing back and cutting through my Changeling swarm. My eyes narrowed on the rainbow haired mare that now hovered by Applejack. I heard my swarm bridge the song, offering their voices as they pushed against the Pegasi’s reprieve.

“We the hivemind we the swarm have faith in our mother

She inspires us and teaches us and calms us during storms

If only others knew her love they wouldn't see a bad girl

For it's her love that keeps us safe out there in a cruel world.”

My voice sang with the swarm’s, leading them in verse and battle as the Pegasi’s resistance began to crumble before us. Ponies attempted to make their retreat whilst their most foolhardy fought against us in a desperate attempt to give them a chance to flee.

“I can hear your song

It makes me proud to know you all are strong

Stretch your wings and prepare for flight

Bare your teeth and prepare to bite

Now rise and sing and call my name

Equestria will never be the same

We must act now the time is soon

To take down both the sun and moon.”

Whatever efforts they made to hold us off were failing however as I waded through the Ponies towards the heart of their collective body. Where passion and emotion burned as two heroes fought against the ever-increasing odds of my swarm.

“And then we'll feast at any time of day

And we will rule in ev'ry single way 

No more hiding we will be free

When the ponies look up to see

A mighty swarm consuming the whole world

A changeling army with its fangs unfurled

Food aplenty for all our kin

Over others we all shall win.”

Their resistance was worthless however, as a flare of my magic flew from my horn and into the Element of Honesty. Her fire burned through my spell, in a surprising display of strength, but she stumbled and faltered nevertheless. My swarm and I continued to sing as the two Ponies exchanged words of passion.

I felt the surprise that blossomed onto Rainbow Dash’s face, did her friend ask her to leave?

She faced her friend as more words were exchanged in the heat of battle, the two pressed against each other.

“We the swarm will take whatever lands upon our plates

We don't care what price we must pay!

And in any kind of weather we all have to stick together,

And we don't want it any other way!”

Pony lips met, and the outpouring of love caught the attention of the swarm in its entirety. With a cry my children that hungered for the most desired emotion descended upon the bonfire of love that sat within our grasp.

“Let's FEED!”

Ponies scattered like insects and fled as my swarm turned to the two lovers and the hoofful of Ponies that fought within them. 

“Yes I do so love my brood

It's my heart that feeds them food.

I won't let harm come to what is mine!”

At last I arrived at my destination and stood before the two Elements of Harmony that fought against us here. They were both battered and bleeding, Applejack moved with a limp leg while it seemed many of Rainbow Dash’s feathers had been torn from her wings.

Rainbow Dash was the first to make her move, boiled rage and passion burned inside her as she pounced on me like a spring. Her wings beat, the half-feathered masses providing little lift.

“Hurry now we must take care 

We must be ready and we can't fight fair,”

My horn lit with power as I ducked my head and rammed, the spell slicing through magic and material protection as my horn split through her body.

I reared into the air and with a burst of magical force the gagging Pony was torn off my horn and into the horde of Changelings that followed me.

“With the buzzing of countless wings

Gather all your most precious things,”

I turned to face Applejack just in time to see her charge into my side.

I grunted in pain and staggered away from the Pony. A Changeling from the swarm flew in between us just in time to receive a mighty buck from the mare.

“And follow me as we take flight

We can't stop now because the time is right,”

I tore the Changeling that flew into me away and reached out to Applejack, as my jaws clamped around her heart I saw how she flinched at the painful sensation.

I drained what gave her strength away. I feasted upon her love and rose back onto my hooves as the pathetic whelp desperately fought to escape my grasp.

With every second her resistance grew weaker. Her will to fight more and more broken.

“Raise your voices and fill the air

Hidden monsters; we're ev'rywhere.”

The Pony known as Applejack fell to the floor. Limp and drained of her life. My Changelings turned to the Ponies that were still making their feeble attempts at escaping. As one with the swarm we sung the final lyrics of this battle.

“The Ponies' time is coming to an end

An age of changelings will begin again

We will conquer and we will rule

And the Ponies will be our fools.

They all will fall for our grand masquerade

And they won't doubt the faces on parade

Let's make haste so we can proceed

This is what mother has decreed!”

Our cry of victory rang through the air. Fleeing Ponies were brought low and any that still lived were wrapped into cocoons to be fed upon.

A smile sharpened across my face as I turned to the two fallen Elements of Harmony. How foolish were these Ponies to risk their greatest weapon like this?

I felt myself chucke, this pathetic excuse for war would be swift indeed.
> Interlude: Promises
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Umm, Your Majesty?”

“Yes, Little Lamb?”

“I wanted to ask you…”

“There is little I won’t tell you at this point, Little Lamb. Ask your question.”

“... You said Changelings get new names for themselves with each promise they make, right?”

“Each bond we choose to forge is represented by a new name, yes. While you are not… incorrect in your wording, Little Lamb, there is more to it than only ‘promises’. Commitments, dedications, to both yourself and to all things. Names are how we choose to represent ourselves. The name of our disguise will tell us how that disguise is meant to act, but a name chosen outside of your disguise tells us how we are meant to act.”

The yellow Pegasus gave a slow nod.

“So… does that mean ‘Chrysalis’ means something? Did you have a name before that as well?”

“... Yes, to both your questions, Little Lamb. ‘Chrysalis’ is but another bond, a name amongst many, and I hold names from both before and after I became known as ‘Chrysalis’.”

“What… what does ‘Chrysalis’ mean then?”

“It was meant to be… It was… It is my greatest failure.”

“Greatest… failure?”

“While I was ‘Chrysalis’ it was a promise made to my Hive and to my Changelings. We were weak, there were little of us… We were nymphs. ‘Chrysalis’ was my promise that I would do better for the Hive, make my Changelings into something better, to bring them into a golden age of prosperity… It would… be accurate to call that a failure.”

“Do… you want me to call you something else then?”

“No. I hold no other names that you could call me. None that would fit besides ‘Chrysalis’. Not even ‘Queen’ is right anymore. Only ‘Chrysalis’.”

I could feel the great well of sadness within Little Lamb silently grow as my words sat between us.

“You… did well, Little Lamb. Far better than me. You stuck by your promise, no matter how much it may have hurt you.”

“I… It wasn’t anything special. I just couldn’t live with myself if I never found out.”

“Did you find your answer, Little Lamb? While I may… tolerate you in particular, Little Lamb, I hold no love for Ponies.”

“I… I’m really sorry but a part of me really, really, wants to blame you but… it wouldn’t be right. You already blame yourself for so much that was out of your control- and- and they knew it would be dangerous and that there were risks involved…”

“Everyone believes themselves to be invincible Little Lamb, until they come across something that proves to them that they are not. No creature likes to recognise their mortality.”

“I just… I miss them so much.”

“I hold similar feelings, knowing I will never again see another one of my brood.”

“Chrysalis… please, couldn’t you live? Wouldn’t Changelings miss you if you died as well?”

“They… would miss me more than they should. But I did not raise my Hive to give into such feelings. If I… continue on like this I fear it will only result in what remains of my Hive wasting away. It is better for me to pass on and for them to stand on their own. They would do well to be rid of me.”

“You wouldn’t do that though…”

“I do not want to do that but… I believe I would anyway. The Changelings need a new leader. One with less pride in their heart.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to die, you could just step down, couldn’t you?”

“And how would that allow them to grow? To become independent of me and the ideals that I held and that led them to such rot? Any who would hold the ideas my Changelings need to survive would be the very same I would look over, those I would choose would blindly follow in my footsteps and continue to tread the path to ruination. They need to choose amongst themselves who to lead, and I need to disappear. I need to disappear in a way that leaves no mystery, lest they dedicate themselves to finding me.”

“Couldn’t you tell them what not to do? Tell them of your mistakes and how to avoid them?”

“And let them grow dependent on me once more? No. Nor do I believe you Ponies would allow it. If I live and the Changeling Kingdom begins anew the Ponies would insist on knowing who ruled them now. You would leverage my well-being in order to get your grubby mitts on that knowledge and push the ideals of Ponies onto Changelings.”

“Ponies-”

“Do you believe me wrong, Little Lamb? Do you not believe the Ponies would force my Changelings to conform to their ‘friendship’? Do you believe your Ponies would even be kind enough to give my Changelings a chance, or would they rather destroy all signs of Changelings and forget them as they have done before to all their other foes?”

“Chrysalis… I… don’t think you’re being entirely fair on Ponies. Y-yes there would be some who’d rather never see a Changeling again, but I want to- I do believe that there are just as many if not more Ponies who if asked would give Changelings a chance and want to learn about them,” Fluttershy took a shaky breath, “and we can learn from them too Chrysalis. I-If the Changelings and Ponies could learn how to… co-exist, I’d think Ponies would learn not to judge things on first appearances a-and learn that someone that does bad things may not be bad but might just be in a bad place. I… I think we forget that, sometimes. And I think you do too.”

…

“Then, Little Lamb, does that make me blameless? Was I merely misunderstood when I fed your fellow Ponies, your friends, to my Hive? Did-”

“CHRYSALIS!” Little Lamb shouted, her emotions burning hot as she fixed me with a powerful glare, “I know you are more mature than making such a childish tantrum. I know you regret your actions. I know that if you knew how this all turned out, that if you could do all this again, you would choose to avoid it. Whether or not I hold you responsible for Applejack or Rainbow Dash does NOT matter here. I am better than that, and I know you are too.”

My mouth hung open for a moment, and I felt my nerves shuffle as I looked away from Little Lamb. Once my voice had returned to me, I spoke.

“I... am sorry, Little Lamb. You are… not incorrect with your words. I am not a paragon of any virtue, nor do I wish to be. Your friend’s sacrifice was noble, and I should not belittle or mock it just to get a rise out of you.”

“I… am willing to forgive you, Chrysalis, but only if you promise me something.”

“I do not wish to hold your ire, Little Lamb.”

“C-could you consider… choosing to live? I-I’m sure Celestia would at least hear you out, and I’d like to speak in favour of it- if you’ll let me. That is.”

I placed a considering emerald eye onto Little Lamb. She spoke with… something. Determination. A strength of flame.

“... Your delivery needs work, Little Lamb.” Little Lamb seemed to deflate at hearing my words, “but… I will… consider your idea. But I make no promises. I believe that my time is coming to an end. I will do my best to meet it with dignity. Whether it be now...” I sighed, and felt myself slump to the floor, “... or later.”

A thought wormed its way into my mind. As I watched Little Lamb’s reaction to my words. A simple thought, stating a simple fact. A fact I was not in the mood to argue for all I wished it had not been brought to my attention.

But…

… I liked that I could make my subject smile this time.
> Chapter 5 - Mourning
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pain echoed throughout my body in a variety of aches as I slowly pulled my consciousness out of the abyss of sleep.

Habits born of a thousand years of hunger and life had me evaluate my magic and the emotions stored within me.

I severely wish I hadn’t.

Putrid, foreign hate polluted my body. Gathering in festering clumps and rotting my body from the inside out. A total absence of love made my body feel hollow, weak, and sick as it attempted to gain nutrients and vitality from the draining poisonous hate within me.

I took a moment to gather what little strength I possessed- both physically and mentally- in preparation to discard the rot from my body. I would not die this way.

I felt my body sway from as I rose, and before I could give in to the screaming need to collapse I parted my forehooves and planted firmly into the cold stone floor. I felt my body heaving at everything inside of me as my mind pounded in protest. I could do nothing but hang my head and aim my jaw to the floor in preparation.

Vaguely, between the greasy curtain of wild uncut green mane that blocked my vision, my mind noticed the blurred pink blob sitting on the other side of the bars of my cell. A visitor, who had come to pester.

I almost decided to abandon my efforts to purge my body of the rot before it took root within me. I would not show weakness. No matter how low I sink, I would hold my head high.

It was then that I felt the hate inside me coalesce. Growing and reaching as it absorbed itself and attempted to root myself into my body. I could feel the rot within me reaching to grab more and more, and at that moment, I did not care whether or not this Pony saw my weakness. I was already a pathetic, worthless waste of space, they knew it, I knew it. A refusal to show weakness was…

It didn’t matter in the end. As my attention was pulled to the horrible writhing sensation as the hate inside me was forced to give up its home. 

Writhing, wriggling, squirming, screaming, as my body rejected it. I felt it pull against my insides, tendrils of taint trying to take root in my body.

The sensations grew worse when the hate finally reached my throat. It fought for every inch. It did not want to leave. But I was stronger. My flame still burned brightly. I refused it. My jaw hung open as I stared at the chamberpot that found itself below me.

The hate fought with desperation until its final moments, until the liquid emotion, so red it was black, crawled from my mouth and onto the floor in a great waterfall. 

I stood for as long as I could, hacking out droplets of red emotion before slowly slumping onto my side. The aftertaste of hate still lingering and burning my tongue as a weak hoof pushed the tin bowl away.

“Are you okay?” A voice spoke. High-pitched and drenched in sorrow.

“No…” I found myself replying.

There was silence for a moment, or at least I think it was silence, perhaps my tired mind simply didn’t register any sort of response from the mare.

I tried to dredge up memories of what had happened before all went black.

I could remember the white Pony, visiting and asking questions.

I remember… a flaring of tempers? Her own and mine.

I… ate her hate. Her rage. Used it as power.

Cheap. Strong. But burns far too quickly.

And ultimately as destructive to the self as it is others.

My mind wandered, collecting scattered pieces of itself.

The Princess of Dreams had visited me.

Had told me…

Were her words lies?

Why would Princess Luna help my Changelings?

It was not the practice of old, where you did unto the enemy what they did unto you.

My words came back to me. It didn’t matter if she lied or not, whether my Changelings were hunted by the droves or left to fade back into the shadows didn’t matter. It would not change my fate.

The axe is far kinder than I could ask for, considering all of my crimes.

The sound of shuffling hooves turned my eyes back to the pink mare. I spent a moment, willing my vision into focus so as to see more than a mere pink blur against shadowed stone.

Recognition came slowly, although I don’t think I could blame myself entirely, the mare looked nothing like how she used to. Her mane was a thick curtain, almost supernaturally straight. Her coat and mane had lost its luster, having become a dull parody of its original bright pink luster. Shining blue eyes were shimmer, but not in joy, but in deep grief and sorrow.

What was perhaps strangest was her emotions. My spies had all told me the bonfire of joy was enough to identify at a distance, she burned bright and strong as she spread her smile to all she came across. Now, however, the bonfire was long extinguished, only billowing clouds of sorrow that rose from her body and filled the room. Part of me wondered if the strength of her grief was enough for even Ponies to sense it, that she felt those emotions so strong that even the deaf could hear them.

“I’m sorry.” The mare spoke.

It took me a moment to answer, my mind felt like sludge as I gathered the correct words. “Why are you here, Pinkie Pie?”

“Pinkamena.”

“Pardon?” I was sure her name was Pinkie Pie, my spies wouldn’t be so foolish as to give me the wrong-

“Pinkamena Diane Pie.”

My brows screwed tight as I thought. Simply a return to using a full name then? But why?

“I thought you preferred to be called ‘Pinkie Pie’, it is what others called you last I met you and your friends.”

“Not anymore.” The dull Pony murmured.

Grief. Loss. A want to change? And she’s come here… but why? What does she seek?

“Why? Why are you here, little Pony? I have only just awakened and there is only so much I can tolerate.”

“I… was meant to come earlier. But didn’t.”

“What do you mean, little Pony?”

“I wanted to talk to you, earlier but… I’m late.” A choked sob escaped, “Why am I even here?”

“If you have something to say Pony say it and be gone.”

“I… wanted to… ask… you… something...” The mare trailed off and froze, I saw her ears twitch and flicker before-

Before the mare broke, irritation, aimless rage, grief, desperation, strung together in a boiling firecracker of emotion. I felt my entire body flinch as the mare screamed. Her hooves stomped against the uncaring stone as she yelled, insulted, and cried. Curd, bastard, monster. Those were among the most frequent words spoken in her aimless rage, but they were not the most frequent.

For there was one word that rose above all others, spoken over and over, its very meaning strangled into submission by her grief and rage. Piercing rotten want flared through her entire body as she chanted over and over again.

“WHY?”

I remained still, a primitive part of my mind calling me to disguise and stay still. To avoid the predator that raged beyond the bars of my cell.

“WHY DOESN’T SHE TELL ME?! WHY CAN’T I KNOW?! W-WHY WHY WHY? WHY CAN’T WE HAVE BETTER? WHY ARE YOU TELLING THIS STORY? WHY?!?”

I remained still and silent as I watched the dull pink mare collapse. Her body slowly shuddering with each heavy breath as she regained whatever spent energy she could.

And slowly, as energy creeped back into her body, a smile grew on her lips. A demented smile. One that held no sanctity, no sanity, only broiled emotion that had been left in the sun to rot before being tossed into a great dirty pit. I felt my heart seize in my chest as her pinprick gaze and manic smile focused onto me.

In a quiet voice, I heard her mumble something along the lines “I’m not completely bound by the story though, am I? I can push, I can shove… I can’t break it, the story has its plot… but we have a certain freedom? Don’t we? Even if we don’t know it.”

Then she spoke to me, her voice louder, clearer. Filled with a pointed and focused aggression that only the fiercest predators could produce. “Chrysalis. Although you don’t like that name all that much, do you? It’s about the same as calling you ‘failure’, isn’t it? That’s what you believe at least. What a part of you wants as well, isn’t it? To be called a failure, to be ridiculed, to be left to rot because you simply don’t believe you deserve better, do you?”

I remained silent, my own gaze wide as I felt my back press up against cold stone as I tried to creep further away from the Madmare- although crept is probably not the right word to describe how I dragged myself away. No more room to escape, no way to flee. No-

--@_1#--

“Ah ah ah,” The Madmare interrupted. “No getting lost in thoughts and descriptions like that. We know you much prefer to talk.” She spoke, and I shivered at her voice and the almost ethereal quality that held it together, it was so fundamentally wrong, directionless and unfortunately uncanny, like the feeling of a spider crawling up your neck. “Chrysalis,” the Madmare continued, “I want to know something from you. I know you know, so don’t try to play dumb. Got that?”

I faced the Madare before me with not a small amount of fear in me. My voice was tiny when I spoke, “What do you want to know?” I hated how quiet, how small-

“Shut it. You’ve had it with the self-hate already. Isn’t this the turning point anyway? The time for hope?” The Madmare’s voice was… pointed, angry. Directed and yet directionless. The ephemeral blended with permanency.  Something inside me told me that whoever or whatever the mad mare was speaking to, it wasn’t meant for me no matter who she looked at as she spoke.

“Just glossing over- fine, okay okay okay! Works for me! Okie-dokie-lokie,” The Mare’s voice rose in pitch, into something that would’ve sounded bubbly and adorable if not for the dank room and her manic disposition, the demented giggle that punctuated my sentence almost had my wings flare in panic, the emotions that came from her were things that should not be. “c’mon Chryssi, I want you to tell me something, can you do that for me?”

Nerves would have had me only barely nod my head, but I was stronger than that. I had faced worse horrors- 

“You really haven’t.” The Madmare spoke quietly.

-and come out on top. “Y-you have yet to ask what you want to know.”

“Dashie. What happened to her. How did she die. I want to know.”

My mind froze and my heart skipped a beat.

How could I tell this Madmare what had happened?

What do I even say? How do I say it?

“Just say it.”

There was no easy way to say it, and I did not like my chances of this unstable mare learning the truth.

“TELL ME!”

Self-preservation came first. I must live for the Hive. For the Hive.

“I-I can’t. Leave me be, please, go away, we have no business.”

The Madmare’s entire body twitched. “So that’s how it’s going to be, huh?”

I was about to reply, to put my hoof down and deny her request, turn her away, scorn her foolishness, plead for her to leave. I never got a chance however, as the Madmare’s forehooves stretched, I felt a hoof wrap around me and the whole world shift as she pulled me closer.

It wasn’t teleportation, I had teleported before, this was something else. With teleportation you were in one place one instant, and another the next this… I travelled through the bars, through the very world itself. Yet no time had passed, I was moved and I was there. I was outside of my cell, staring into the blue eyes of a pink mare who suddenly seemed a whole lot bigger than she had a moment before. The Madmare held me close and tight as she stared back into my eyes, into my soul. “How- wh-”

“Shh-shh-shh-shh. Same reason you could feed on Rarity through the enchanted bars, Chryssi, something ‘other’.” I gulped as the Madmare pressed her head against mine. My body frozen in her grasp, unable to move the barest inch away. “Now, now, Chryssi, I know you don’t like not being out of your cell- you were never meant to get out after all- Not anytime that I know of at least, but then again I don’t know how this ends, so maybe in your climax there's a dramatic escape attempt- but now I think you know better than to not answer my question.”

I tried to gulp but my throat was dry, I tried to wriggle free and found I couldn’t. I tried to do anything but I couldn’t. I could only do one thing. Slowly, the words crawled out of my mouth like spiders dragged across sandpaper. “What do you want?”

“I want to not be the miserable crying sobbing mess that I was supposed to be. I want to kick the person who made me this way. I want- I want- I want-” tears shimmered in her eyes, her voice shook and broke as words came tumbling out, “It’s not fair, all I want to know is one thing, but I can’t!” More sobs, and I felt the Madmare’s arms wrap around me as if she was holding a particularly large teddy bear- “-teddy bears are nice-” and I was not going to risk what would happen if I chose to dissuade that emotion.

A few deep, harmful breaths later, and I felt the Madmare’s grip loosen. “Madmare? I used to be Laughter. Can’t I go back to being that. Being happy? Why does this have to be so hard?” Another sob, and slowly- which was a strange way to describe the sensation- I felt the world shift around me once more.

I stood in my cell, no longer within the Madmare’s embrace.  My body felt like carved wood as it slowly began to relax. The pink mare no longer stood outside my cell, the threat was gone.

“That’s because I’m right here, Chryssi.” The Madmare’s voice answered, and I turned to see that she now stood beside me. Her whole body downcast as sorrow simmered within her.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” She spoke. “I just… I didn’t want to play along anymore, y’know? I wanted to choose my own path. You can understand that, can’t you?”

I took a slow step away from the mare, and my mind tried desperately to ignore the fact I couldn’t feel the distance increase despite the Madmare’s stillness. Hesitantly, I spoke, “I... I can.”

A sad, broken, but nonetheless amused chuckle, escaped the mare. “You would, wouldn’t you? That’s what you’re learning, isn’t it? Determining your own path despite whatever lack of choices you face. Or how that same determination to choose your own end can hurt? It’s very confused. Unsure of itself. I don’t like that.”

I stood still for a moment, the Madmare’s words filtering into my mind. For some reason what she said felt… more important. Wrong and yet very right.

“I wasn’t supposed to tell you that yet, y’know, that was something that Cadence was meant to help you learn.” The Madmare leaned closer to me, her body stretching as she somehow leaned forward and up to be level with eyes. Far further than she should’ve. “But do you know why I did it? To prove something, to prove that the rules and order can be bent.” Her voice turned into a harsh whisper, “So tell me, Chryssi, what happened to my Dashie?”

I halted. I had been about to tell her the truth, but then I thought better of it.

The Madmare was filled with turmoil, she was mad and… something else, as well.

I didn’t want to tell this mare what had happened-

The Madmare seemed to pout as that thought entered my mind, but continued to stare at me. I could hear her whisper to… something. “Just try a little harder Chryssi, you can do it.”

-the knowledge would… would do more harm than not knowing ever could. It would be wrong to tell her. She’d break so much worse.

But wouldn’t letting her not know do the same? Leaving her to dwell on an unanswerable question.

I heard the Madmare sniff, and felt my straying focus snap back onto her. “I just want to know if my Dashie loved me back, is that really too much to ask? Do you have to be so cruel?”

The Madmare shrank back, talking to herself. “Why?” was the word on her lips.

She slumped in defeat, and before I could step forward, before I could speak, barely after I even got a chance to blink she was gone.

I wasn’t entirely unsurprised to find her sitting outside my cell, staring at the floor.

“Why can’t I know? I wanted to tell Dashie so bad but… I didn’t know and that made me so scared because I didn’t know what I was going to do if she didn’t so I didn’t say anything and-” A sob, a cry, a cry of pain, the cry of a foal pleading for help from their mother. The cry of someone who no longer knew what to do.

I didn't know what to do either.

I didn’t know how to help, didn’t know if I could help. All I knew was that telling her would be… bad.

“It’s okay…” The mare sniffed, her eyes turned to the floor. “I understand.”

A pause. Something within my mind stirred. Flickering black emotions that weren’t really there. “I am no monster. Little Pony.”

The pink Pony’s ears perked up, 

“Maybe you Ponies say my tale is that of a monster’s defeat, but my Changelings told a different one.”

Her ears swivelled to focus on me.

“Make no mistake, they did not call me kind. It was not in our nature to be ‘kind’... but they did call me Mother, and while my Changelings are my kin it wasn’t I who birthed them.” I paused, and watched as the pink Pony’s head slowly began to turn. “They called me Mother regardless though. They trusted me to take care of them, to help them grow, and to lead them forward. No matter how foolish my choices were.”

The mare was turning to face me now, surprise evident on her face. Amidst the tears and the stains.

“If you were a child of ours… We would do our best to comfort you, but we offer no lies or soft words.” My gaze hardened. “You are a Pony, but more than that… you were a Bearer of Harmony, the Bearer of Laughter, of joy, of positivity, of optimism, of hope. You would be the one who would forgive and forget. So that is what I tell you now, Pony. Forgive and forget. Move on from your pain. Forgive yourself and forget your pain. It is not needed, and will only hurt you if you hold onto it.”

“That’s…” the dull pink Pony began before trailing off.

“Be silent, Pony. Speak no more words to me. Leave. Please. Begone and forget this day. Forget your pain and forget your grief. I will not see you now. Nor ever again. I shall die in this realm, and my memory will die swiftly after. Leave me to my fate and return from whence you came.”

Blue eyes watched me for a moment. Her expression unreadable as she slowly backed away. I heard her hooves trot up the stairs.

I waited until I heard the groan of the wooden door at the top of the stairs and the solid thud of it falling shut before I collapsed.

My body was… exhausted. Tears stung my eyes, my whole body shivered in pain and fear. It hurt and I was so hungry. I wanted out. I could not even find the strength to fall asleep, to let oblivion take me. Only the weakness to lay there and cry. To die a slow death as my body slowly eroded away at itself.

Pinkamena claimed Cadenza planned to see me.

The Witch Celestia had yet to see me, nor had her student.

I doubted she had forgotten about me. Was she simply biding her time then. Waiting until I was on death's door to spout her philosophy and the virtues of harmony? To be able to hold her strength and wisdom above my head while she ‘graciously’ offered me a chance at her ‘redemption’? 

The thought almost made me wish she had forgotten about me. That she was content on dealing with me like she had all her problems for as long as I had known her. Shove the burden onto someone else and claim credit, to forget about it and let someone else deal with it, then re-write history when it does not fit the image she wanted.

In the dark of my cell I waited. 

For the next set of hooves to echo against the stone.

For oblivion to seize me and carry me away one final time.

For peace of mind to return to me, to grant me sweet release.
> Chapter 6 - Bridled
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

If there was one thing which granted me small amusement during the quiet and scarce moments where I was distracted enough that brief flitterings of amusement could worm their way into my mind through the mire of dark worry, it was how I had come to hate waiting.

I sat in the dark shadows of my domain, my back pressed against the wall to support my aching body. Meanwhile, and to my great consternation in my more lucid moments, my mind ran itself in circles as I was helplessly forced to consider and imagine the one thing I had to look forward to. A visit from the small Queen, the Princess of Love.

My thoughts were like tar as questions forced themselves to be answered a million times over. Their disgusting texture sticking to and staining whatever other thoughts they brushed as they slowly crawled through my mind.

Would there be rage? Yes, there would.

Would there be grief? I wouldn’t bet against it.

Would there be sorrow? Joy? Relief? Pain?

How much pain?

Would the pain be enough? 

I was forced to consider these questions, to determine every possible answer and how many ways all the previous were wrong. Lest my focus wander onto darker things, and see fit to watch the flickering failing flame that-

How would the visit from the small Queen go? Would there be rage? No, she has already won, and I have no rage to muster. Would there be grief? Possibly, or perhaps instead, reconciliation?

Would there be sorrow? Sad smiles and small breaks? Pain?

How much pain?

Would the pain be deserved? 

It was truly dreary, how my mind ran in circles. Forced to consider and reconsider the immediate future and how meeting the youngest Equestrian Princess once more would go as if my fate was a rickety bridge stretching across a windy chasm. Unstable and crossed with much trepidation.

It was with great dread I thought in these circles, anticipation and… and anxiety- oh how I distasted, loathed, that emotion- that kept my mind from merely becoming numb and allowing time to pass.

Thus, it was some kind of cruel mercy that I was released from that prison of thoughts and given something to focus on. Namely, the arrival of my dreaded guest. 

A brilliant and blinding beacon of light and warmth shone through the cracks of the door that sat up above the dingy staircase into my domain. Rays of faux-light falsely illuminating the floor and everything around it with a strange glow.

I felt a minor fascination as I watched how the pink faux-light briefly wavered and rebuilt themselves to the tune of ringing steps as gilded hooves crossed cold stone. 

Waver. Step. Grow.

Waver. Step. Grow.

Waver. Step. Grow.

Eventually, my fascination was redirected towards the source of the faux-light. The pink mare with her multicoloured mane, who decorated herself with the gilded accessories of a princess. Although she still wore nothing as unique or significant as the regalia of her elder Princesses.

She who held what was perhaps one of the most amazing flames I had ever seen.

A part of me still felt as jealous as I had once been when I first met the mare. Her flame slowly, almost calmly, weaved and danced with itself. Base emotions mixing and colliding only to end in the same fiery tips of love that reached out to brush the world around it.

Yes, I could see why I had been jealous, - Why I felt jealous still, if to a significantly less degree, - as I watched and measured her blazing heart with the keen eyes of a faded creature.

Strange sorrow and shallow amusement mixed within myself as I watched nervousness nip at the young Princess' flame as we slowly met each other’s gaze. 

Eventually, as all things good and quiet often do, the moment ended no more abruptly than it began. “Queen Chrysalis.” Cadance acknowledged, giving me a strange shallow bow.

My mind filtered through her acts and words as practice brought me to consider what she said with more detail than frankly necessary. Two words. A title. A single noun, and a bow.

You could say it meant very little, you could say it meant quite a bit. I was more inclined to believe the latter. More interesting conclusions and questions dwelt that way.

“Queen of what, Young Princess?“ My words were slow, dry, and devoid of most emotion. My mind twinged with distaste as I made note of how exhaustion dripped off my voice. Tiny, old, devoid, the pitiful smoldering scraps of a mighty blaze.

“... Queen of the Changelings?”

“And what Changelings follow me, Young Princess?” I asked the small Queen as her body and flame nervously drew into themselves.

But only briefly did she need to gather her strength, her emotions and body braced themselves despite the obvious fear the small Queen felt. Rebuilding herself stronger with each beat of her heart.  “What makes you so sure they don’t?”

“I led them astray. I was foolish and mad. The Hive is lost. They would have to be truly foolish to choose to follow me still.”

“I heard they call you Mother.”

“And where did you hear such a thing?”

“When I toured camps with my husband. When… we had not settled into... allowing no Changeling into any camp, even as a prisoner.”

“And what did you learn, Young Princess? What lies did my kin spin and which did you believe?”

“They told me of their home, and their pride, their hunger, and above all else…” Her flame flickered with sorrow born from sympathy, and tinged with fear. Personal fear, the kind born from the heart rather than the edge of a blade. “... their Mother.”

I didn’t quite have the words to talk, I had known that the small Queen had made appearances in some of the safer military camps early on, ostensibly to improve morale. Spies and escaped prisoners had made such a thing clearly known to me. Too heavily guarded for an attack to be made against her however, and the visits stopped after a few raids where we snuck in under her guise.

They took that lesson to heart. That the Changelings did not fight ‘fair’. That we would use whatever means we could to strike at them. That no matter how tight their defences were we would find a crack to sneak through.

As reinforcements, as heroes returning from battle, among their wounded, among their dead, among their supplies, and even as prisoners - both as rescued ‘Ponies’ or captured Changelings.

It wasn’t enough. We- I was foolish to even think it might be.

We could only delay, to stall, to hurt them back and make them regret their attempts to drive us off. A swarm of insects nipping and biting a larger beast could harm and hurt, but it could not kill. Not alone, not directly.

“-Chrysalis?”’ the small Queen's voice broke through my little jaunt through past woes. What good would thinking of a war already lost do for me?

“Yes, sma- Young Princess? What do you want?”

“I asked if you missed your… children… too.”

“I do.”

“And you think they don’t?”

“I would hope they have chosen to forget about me.”

“Why would you want that?”

My eyes narrowed through the gloom, “I am a failure of a ruler, Young Princess. I am not, nor ever was, worthy of my Changelings and their loyalty.”

“But you still had their loyalty. Their love. They call you mother and you’re abandoning them?!” The pink mare turned, her voice raised as an inferno of outrage stormed through her body. “Celestia said she found mentions of Changelings in one of Starswirl's journals. I talked to some of the others you visited- Rarity said you talked about the very beginnings of the Changeling Kingdom like you were there! I had to find maps over a thousand years old to even find out if you were telling the truth about how the Badlands used to be! You were!” Her eyes narrowed, she stomped her hoof, the passion inside her burned. “You were there, you're as old as Celestia, maybe even older! You led your Changelings through all that time, if you hadn’t done something right you would never have had their loyalty at all! AND YOU’RE CHOOSING TO ABANDON THEM!”

It is hard, when someone is so passionate, for you to not feel a fraction of that passion yourself. Harder still, when you are far more sensitive to the emotions of others around you. Doubtlessly harder when whoever was speaking is a living, breathing, walking bonfire of emotion even at her most passive. Near impossible when what they are speaking strikes a cord within you.

Still, finding myself swept up in her blaze was another failure. I snarled. “To find someone BETTER! SOMEONE WHO CAN HELP THEM! SOMEONE WHO WON’T HAVE THEM MARCH TO THEIR OWN SLAUGHTER AGAIN!”

“Who?!” She all but screamed, “Who will lead them but you? Did you even decide that when you sent them away and ran? Or did you decide it wasn’t your problem anymore, that it was their problem and that you weren’t responsible for it anymore?”

I hissed, and felt my entire body quivering in rage, “How dare you! You know nothing! Nothing! What experience, what right do you have to lecture me about ruling? About responsibility? When have you been anything more than a victim and a babysitter!”

“At the very least I didn’t abandon my family when it got tough! I fought! I beat you!”

I felt my gut wrench at her words. Twisting, burning smoke and poisonous fumes filled me. Pressing the urge, the need, to hurt her. To strike back. To allow no weakness. How dare she question me? I was-

I was…

She was right, and that is why it hurt. No matter how many times I had admitted it, how many times I scorned those who said differently.

I lost.

What did I have? A single, pegasus subject with too fragile a heart to do what I asked of them, and a dank, rotting, cell to call my home.

I had nothing.

Had… had I abandoned my subjects? Left them out in the cold when they still needed me?

No. They were strong, I had taught them how to be.

But… they had never truly been without me, had they?

I had always been there, just like- oh how I loathed the comparison- the witch Celestia.

No. They were Changelings, not Ponies. We were stronger, we did not need to be coddled, we… they would adapt and survive.

Or at least… I hoped they would.

A long, slow breath filled me. To calm and compose myself and return my will upon my flame. My gaze returned to the pink mare who had spoken, staring at me as her heart burned in silent surprise and mild fascination.

“This conversation is over. I no longer have a choice in the matter. My Changelings will survive without me.” I poured every ounce of authority I had into those words. Transforming them from what may have been flimsy nothings into a ruler’s declaration. 

If one only heard by myself and the small Queen.

Unfortunately, despite how rumination on truly unimportant things tickled my mind. I was broken away from my escape and out of my thoughts once more by the small Queen “What are you going to do?”

I blinked at the pink mare, “What do you mean, Pony? What have I to do?”

Cadance, apparently deciding that the woes of my people bothered her, chose to stare right back at me. “You’re wrong. You can still help your Changelings. Why would you abandon them in their time of need?”

“I said this conversation was over.”

“And I disagree.”

“And what gives you the right?”

“What gives you the right? You have to make a decision, you can’t just sit here and pity yourself. You. have. to. Choose!” A tower of burning passion born from her heart rose higher with her every word.

“I have already made my decision, and I would be a poor ruler if I allowed myself to be second guessed, even by myself.”

“What- that doesn’t make any sense!”

“I have set this course for myself, I will see it through.”

The pink Princess let out a truly un-Pony-like growl, irritation sizzling and sputtering through her heart.

I gazed down at Cadance and carefully considered my next words. It would be poor of me if I allowed something as simple as phrasing to get in the way of my point. When I spoke, I did what I could to ensure my voice remained firm despite my failing body. 

“It is much like your wedding, Young Princess.” Irritation, now flanked with sharp surprise and shock, especially as what were likely bad memories dredged themselves out of the depth of her mind, but she was paying closer attention now. “Once my invasion began, there was no backing out. Especially when I had gotten so close.” Her irritation grew, but slowly, shock died and gave way to a small serving of curiosity. “What would my kin think if I decided to abandon the plan when we were so close? Minutes away from complete victory? Merely because of a few minor and inevitable hiccups that would have occurred soon nonetheless.” Her irritation was being sharpened by my words, and an outburst of rage was likely to follow at its current course. Time to give her something of a win and something to consider. “Perhaps it was more of the madness that had taken me, love is a powerful yet intoxicating emotion, don’t you agree?” The rage halted, paused, unsure of itself, concern- not for myself but for the actions she had likely considered taking just then- making her check my words and their meaning. “But nonetheless, I could not stop. I could not turn my back on our goal. Just like now.” A slow, creaking, gesture to the rest of my domain. “I am not fit nor able nor willing to change this course of action.”

I could see a response bubbling up behind the small Queen’s eyes, but I doubted it would be anything that could truly persuade opr tempt me. An alicorn she may be, but she was still young and small. Not even beyond her mortal years, a mere bud waiting to grow.

“I don’t think you mean any of that.” She began, her emotions had shifted during my wandering thoughts. From a cocktail of confusion, mild irritation, and grudging acknowledgement to a flowing mix of pride, smugness, eagerness, and hope.

I remained silent, if the small Queen believed she had a victory be it not me to disallow her to provide the rope she hangs herself with.

“My wedding- your invasion- that’s different to what is going on now. There are no stakes here. Canterlot isn’t at risk, nor are your Changelings. The only thing that is at risk is yourself.” She was proud of her deduction, although I could not see any point behind it. “And you’re choosing not to play. You… don’t want to win here. You don’t want to survive.” Another smile, although this one was quickly consumed by sadness and pity as she moved onto her next wave of nonsense. “Do you know what I see when I look at you?”

“The monster who ruined your wedding? Who declared war against Equestria? A parasite to be removed by your precious and no doubt clean hooves?” I spoke, although it seemed not enough to break her off her monologue, as she merely shook her head and continued.

“I see self-hate. The most powerful emotion you feel right now, is how much you hate yourself. How much you hate everything around you, and how much you hate not being able to do anything about it,” The small Queen’s voice turned soft for a moment, “and how that all loops around to the start again.” Confidence returned to her though, giving her voice strength, if of a shaky kind. “Because you never tried. Have you ever tried not hating something? Have you tried forgiving yourself?”

“And what makes you say that?”

“Because if you wanted to die, to do what you tried with my husband again, you’d be trying a lot harder. You wouldn’t be sitting here waiting for a reason to care to come by.”

“You’re wrong foolish Pony, the only way out of this is my death. There is nothing left for me. I refuse any other future.”

“You don’t want to see your children grow? To watch over them?”

“Look where ‘watching over my children’ has gotten me, foolish mare.” I hissed, rage prickling across my chitin. “A cold cage to rest my head as I await the axe. My children scattered across lands not their own in a desperate bid and search for survival.”

“Then be their survival. Choose to try again and do better instead of just sitting here!”

“I cannot lead my people again-”

“Then don’t! Just watch! Let them learn and correct them when they fall! Don’t just abandon them!” She pressed, I could feel her own rage and irritation matching my own.

“And why do you care what I do? My Changelings invaded your wedding, fed on love that should’ve been yours, ruined your most special day. Why would I take the advice of a mare who has no reason not to hate us?”

“Because I want proof!” She cried, her tone visceral as it released an emotional outpouring. Desperation, but at the root of it, love. “I want proof that you’re a good mother. Because- because if you can be a good mother, or can become one, then anyone can! And if anyone can that means I can as well!”

Silence struck the room. At first it was merely a pause and we both registered shock, Cadance at letting such a thing slip, and myself at the news. An alicorn babe was due? Admittedly I was no expert of biology and reading the body language of a Pony was something I had never really properly learnt, but the small Queen did not look far along.

What was a mere pause turned into a near haunting silence as we both stared at the other. Thinking, considering, our flames flickering in a silent dance parted by the cold valley gouged between them.

“Who has been told?” I eventually asked, if simply to sate the welling but ultimately unneeded curiosity.

“... Only Celestia. Shiny doesn’t know yet. If he did I don’t think he’d let me come to see you.” A sheepish Cadance answered.

“So you came here to tempt me away from my desired path, merely because you were unsure if you would be a suitable mother?”

“I… yes.” The downcast mare responded, face hiding behind her hair in a way not dissimilar from Little Lamb.

“Stupid grub, you are the Alicorn of Love. Your heart radiates it blindingly, you love all. I have no doubt you’d be a fine mother, if perhaps occasionally lax in discipline.” My mouth spoke without the slightest bit care for my own consent to such words in the slightest.

My words, as surprising as they were to me, were no doubt more surprising to the small Queen. “You think I’d be a good mother?” her voice squeaked, before falling to a somewhat more reasonable pitch as confusion thoroughly blasted through her. “Wait- you can see emotions?”

“What creature does not possess the ability to sense their own chosen food?” I snorted “Although ‘see’ would be incorrect and I find that Equish lacks a proper verb for a sense nopony possesses.” I paused before tilting my head at the small Queen meaningfully, “well, almost nopony.”

Cadance blinked in surprise, of course. Perhaps foolishly so. Believing an ability is unique to you and only you is a truly arrogant thing, then again, Ponies were arrogant as a species. Often believing the world revolved around them, that they were the rightful custodians of the land and sky.

A foolish notion, but foolishness and arrogance is a disease no one is free of. The Alicorn of Love believing an ability nopony else possessed was utterly unique to her? When the witch Celestia likely claimed no memory of any other holder of said ability?

Eventually, one would stop looking, and if they discovered the truth of their foolishness? Well, an exception can be made and surprise forgiven in this case.

The small Queen broke out of her stupor with the grace of a love-drunk nymph. Rump falling behind and onto the stone floor in a truly undignified manner. Alas, I was given no time to scold or mock as the Alicorn of Love leaped at the bars with the ferocity of a grasshopper. Words coming out of her mouth at a rate far too fast to be intelligible.

Finally, after looking at my evident confusion, the young Alicorn gave an embarrassed cough and began once again, her voice far more clear and sedate then its previous buzz. “Could you teach me?”

“I would think not. We are far too limited on time for such a thing to take place.”

Sadness, but a grin formed on the pink princess’ features. “But you could if you chose to live, couldn’t you?”

“You have time to learn this on your own, do you not?”

“I… don’t know what I’m doing. It only really started after I ascended and Auntie said it wasn’t normal for Alicorns and that… that getting used to it would probably take a lifetime.”

I snorted in distaste at the mention of the witch. “I could teach you, you’d be worse at it than a grub for far too long, but why would I?”

I did not expect the mare to have a reply ready for me. “For kindness's sake? To be generous instead of needlessly greedy?” She blinked, “Maybe to try something new? If you don’t think you can lead, maybe you could teach instead? I… never learnt how to get used to this, how to understand what I… ‘see’?... I’ve only really learned how to ignore it and… how to sometimes get an idea of what they might be feeling.”

I found my attention once more wandering, and could not find it in myself to place the effort to re-assert myself. I could do that, couldn’t I? Teach the small Queen the ways of the Changelings, how to feel the emotions of others and understand how flame and heart weaved together. She could perhaps be the first and only Pony able to join or lead a Changeling Hive.

My eyes hovered over the mare, a fresh young ruler, without any kingdom or lands. Possessing the abilities required to lead a Hive, but a background far different from any Changeling of current.

She’d need to be taught, and need to experience life within the Hive but… a new leader? One likely far more able?

If Cadance claimed the Changelings as her own, the witch Celestia wouldn’t dare attack or harm them.

If I became her teacher in how the Hives worked… I would be under guard, the direct guard of a Princess no less. I would have to put up with her oaf of a husband but that would be a bridge for another time. it would more than satisfy any need to keep me ‘contained’ however, would it not?

Freedom and new purpose, a new and better life for my Changelings.

All of it.

For the price of submitting and bowing to Ponies.

To subjugate my kin to whatever woes befall them as they are forced to endure the sheer intolerance of Ponies. Ponies who already have reason to hate and despise.

The witch Celestia may choose to preach the oath of ‘forgive and forget’, but that mare had a millenia long memory, and grudges far older than any mortal Pony.

By the time my awareness returned to me I did not know how long it had been. Merely that the small Queen was long gone, and my mind was still split.

I looked once more at the inside of my domain. A bed of old wood too small for my frame, a tarnished iron pot full of waste, a ratty carpet frayed and nibbled on, the broken remnants of dreams from an old soul, an ever present hunger that deepened and clawed with each passing second, and finally, the most recent addition, a broken and disgusting decision slowly ticking away until its judgement.
> Chapter 7 - Spiteful
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Time blurred in my domain as thought and rumination pressed upon me. My mind wandering endless tracks in a vast desert as I thought over my meeting with the Alicorn of Love.

She had a point.

I didn’t like it, but the foolishness of not seeing what was in front of me did not serve me before, and I found myself unwilling to follow the path of ignoring the insight before my eyes and further than where it had led me.

They all had a point.

Little Lamb, the Small Queen, even the Madmare, despite how twisted the latter seemed to be, they all had a point. 

But to submit, to bow? The mere thought made me bristle. To the Zebra or Griffins I could perhaps take such humiliation, but to the Ponies?!

I did not have the strength to express my rage at the idea, merely snarl and grumble in the dark silence of my cell as I was forced to consider it again and again.

Bow to the Ponies. Accept the Witch Celestia’s mercy.

Sell out my Changelings for a better life.

Play it safe or risk it all?

Die slowly, or have a chance to free us all from the shackles of our endless hunger?

Give my Changelings a chance at further life and time to prepare ourselves for a future we didn’t know would happen, or snap ourselves out of existence?

There was no finding a middle ground here. It was all or nothing in the most twisted sense, where no matter what was chosen the other may ride along as well.

I was irritated to find I had a visitor, a peculiar purple protege, a brown clipboard held in her lavender glow and a pair of saddlebags slung across her back. Extending my senses to her emotions found little, merely a bubbling pot of irritation and dissatisfaction. At least I could take solace that Twilight Sparkle would find this experience any more rewarding than I.

“Twilight Sparkle.” I began, it was unlikely the Witch’s student would leave on her own, no doubt seeing this as a sacred burden to be carried out.

… whatever ‘this’ was I knew not. Ideas I had in spades, ranging from the Witch Celestia’s own form of snubbing me by sending a lackey to perform whatever inane purpose she has, to more mundane prospects such as the ex-Element of Magic being sent to warden Equestria’s greatest prisoner. 

“Queen Chrysalis.” her voice was clear, professional, almost medicinal. Much like a doctor greeting a patient at the end of a short stay in hospital.

The silence sunk in the conversation was enough to kill much thoughts of pleasantness.

“If you’ve come here with a purpose, Twilight Sparkle, I suggest you get it over with quickly before boredom comes and kills us both.”

Twilight Sparkle’s gaze flicked up from whatever was held on that clipboard of hers to meet my own green eyes, but the contact was naught but a passing second as her eyes returned to whatever was held on the piece of floating… where they were made of cork, or cardboard? It did not matter, and I brushed the straying thought aside as Twilight Sparkle spoke. “Princess Celestia has tasked me with performing an interview, with you as the interviewee..”

“Oh, what about? Has the little scholar come to learn more about her hated enemies before they’re forgotten to time?”

A slight twitch, but nonetheless Twilight Sparkle didn’t react to any satisfactory degree. “Yes, actually. Princess Celestia wants me to interview you in hopes you can shed light on some of the discoveries we’ve made.”

Sarcasm dripped off my tongue as the words slithered out, and I felt no need to stop them. I could say my piece here without fear of repercussion. There was nothing they could do to me. “Is that so? Well then, far be it from me to keep answers from the Witch.” Another errant twitch from the mare across from me. “What do you want to know, Twilight Sparkle?”

“You’re being surprisingly forthcoming about this, Chrysalis.” She grumbled, her face turning away as she reached into her bags.

I watched papers flutter out of her bag and onto her clipboard in the sparking fizzle of her lavender magic, a quill danced gracefully between the flying mass of white pages. “If that’s cause for complaint then I suppose I could always help less.”

Twilight Sparkle gave me a Look. One of those that was spelt with a capital and probably carried with it some form of mighty intent. Shame then that whatever intent that was there was lost on me as I looked past her and into the bubbling pot of emotions inside of her. It was almost like a broth, a thick base of irritation surrounding and mixed with various small chunks of other foodstuff.

Idly, I licked my lips and gave the little mare a fanged smile.

Twilight Sparkle shivered, but held strong and pressed onwards like the good little dog she was. “Are you prepared to answer some questions?”

“Does it truly matter if I am prepared or not? You’ll no doubt be back to pester me anyway.” Seeing as that garnered no response, I let out a little sigh and gave my altogether superfluous consent to partaking in this charade for the Witch.

“When inspecting the walls of the Changeling capital we found its walls were made up primarily out of an unidentified substance.”

“The Hive.” I found myself quietly correcting before moving onto the actual question, best get this over with. “I assume you’re talking about Bugstuff? Blue-ish Purple, looks a bit like wood, as strong as rock?”

“Bugstuff is what it’s called? What is it?”

“Bugstuff is to Changelings what honeycomb is to bees. Although it is far more malleable and we possess far more control over it than insects.”

“How do you make it?”

“Not in any way you Ponies could replicate.” I answered, although the dissatisfaction that emanated from Twilight Sparkle and the lack of another question to focus on left me to elaborate with a tired sigh. “We mix together our own excrement with sand and limestone before using transmutation magic on it. From there any skilled and practiced Changeling can manipulate the stuff freely.”

A deep frown marred the purple Pony’s face, and not the kind I usually enjoy. “Transmutation magic is a highly advanced form of magic, how are Changelings able to-”

“Twilight Sparkle,” I interrupted, “transmutation magic is advanced for Ponies. I’m sure you’re already aware that Changelings are not Ponies? To a race born with the ability to shapeshift, changing the nature of one thing to another is much easier than the Ponies who can only force nature to their whims.”

“I… suppose that’s plausible.” the purple Pony spoke, a slight frown lingering on her face as her quill scratched an answer onto one of her floating papers. I gave her an annoyed snort as I waited for my next question. “We found a unique room that looked like an archive of sorts but couldn’t understand what was in any of the books in there. Can you tell us what it’s purpose is?”

“I would hope I didn’t need to explain the concept of a library to you, Twilight Sparkle.”

That earned me a roll of the eyes, but the irritation still burned strong within her. “Could you tell us what was inside this ‘library’ then?”

“Manuals and journals mostly. To be used to educate and tell Changelings how things used to be done.”

For some sort of asinine reason Twilight Sparkle seemed surprised by this. “... That’s it? No scientific texts? No compositions of poetry?”

I glared at the little Pony. “When paper is a limited resource you tend to only use it for what’s important.”

“... I suppose that makes sense…” The Pony mumbled, her eyes briefly trailing to the papers that surrounded her. “And why couldn't we read them?”

“Did you really expect to find them written in perfect Equestrian?” 

“Well-” Twilight Sparkle began, before sense trampled through her head and knocked whatever inane comment she was about to say out of her head. They were Ponies, almost incapable of thinking outside of their own little world. A creature that speaks Equestrian surely writes in Equestrian, would it not?

I gave another derisive snort. “Anything else, Twilight Sparkle? Or are we done here?”

Shame left Twilight Sparkle’s face as the dangling prospect of more questions was drawn away. “No, no, we still have a few more questions.”

“How many?”

“Twenty-”

“Two.” I interrupted, staring at the Pony, “you get two more questions, Twilight Sparkle, then begone, I was rather enjoying myself until you arrived and I’d much rather return to that.”

Twilight Sparkle was silent for a moment, then a moment longer, then a moment longer again. 

“Okay, two questions. I can work with that. We found a big cavern full of wooden statues. All of them depicting sleeping, resting, or injured Changelings, can you explain the significance of this room?”

That caused me pause, and I slowly considered my answer as I watched Twilight Sparkle jot down more notes on her collection of fluttering pages.

“Can you tell me the state of these statues? None were harmed?”

“Most of them were left untouched, and we couldn’t find any sign of natural damage,” my ears pricked at her choice of wording, “but once we found out they were hollow we decided to open a few up to see inside-”

“You what?!” I growled, my entire body leaning forward as I took a stiff step toward the purple scholar.

“Butallwefoundinsidewassomesortoffluid!” She finished quickly.

My voice was a growl as I half stalked, half dragged myself closer to the edge of my cell. “Do you even recognise the significance of what you just did- No, what am I saying. Of course you don’t. You’re nothing more than an ignorant, foolish, Pony.”

Twilight Sparkle spoke hurriedly under my glare. “Well, we knew the statues were unique since we couldn’t find any other statues or paintings of Changelings-”

“What use are pictures and statues to a race that can look like whatever we wish Pony? Think you idiotic creature.”

“Uh, I’m not an expert on wood carving or archaeology, but I think I remember one of the other researchers saying they were incredibly detailed, and some were surprisingly old as well. A carbon dating spell told us at least one of the statues was centuries old. Despite this all were in good condition and… I’m not sure what else, obviously they’re culturally significant but I can’t figure out any reason why. Nothing gave any indication that they were historical figures, and the level of detail indicates a high level of craftponyship we didn’t believe Changelings of capable of...” As Twilight Sparkle spoke her words got quieter and quieter as she slowly found herself running out of things to say under my reproachful stare.

The sound of my front hooves stiffly striking the floor as I brought myself closer registered in my mind. No longer a  crisp clopping sound, but instead a dull repetitive thunk.

“They were not statues, Twilight Sparkle.” My voice was no more than a whisper, but that did nothing to stop the power behind it. I could see each shiver and shake in the purple Pony’s face as my face hovered bare inches behind the bars of my cell.

“W-what were they then?”

“Kin. Changelings. Corpses.”

Hunger.

“W-wha-”

“We are Changelings, Twilight Sparkle, what we are born from we are fated to return to.”

“Born from? Wait, were those statues...?”

“Dead changelings, who were starved and perished. When a Changeling is starved of love their carapace turns into wood, the process can take anywhere between weeks or months depending on the age of the Changeling, the older the Changeling, the more love required to sustain them, the faster, and I’ve heard more painful, the process.” 

I looked into Twilight Sparkle's eyes as I spoke, never looking away, never letting her look away. She would see the truth in my eyes and suffer for it.

A choked gasp escaped the mare as, eventually, she stumbled back and contact was broken. “That’s horrifying!”

“Do you think that is something I am not already aware of? A fate I haven’t brushed time and time again? Do not be so ignorant as to state the obvious Twilight Sparkle, do not think I am unaware of the tragedy of my kind, so I remind you, Twilight Sparkle, you have one more question. Make it count or waste it, I care not so long as you leave me be after.”

Twilight Sparkle paused, nervousness flashing across her entire body with the swiftness of dry leaves thrown into fire. Her eyes darting from her clipboard to me, deep fleeting emotion flickering in her eyes as she stood back up.

I drew back from the bars of my cell, shuffling and dragging my failing body across the stone floor and away from the illuminating glow of Twilight Sparkle’s magic.

“It’s… more of a proposal really…” Twilight Sparkle’s voice stuttered, her eyes not remaining on me for more than a second before returning to her pages and clipboard for another two. “It’s more something I have to inform you of… Although I guess I could just ask your opinion on it…” more muttering from the purple mare as she attempted to work up the nerve to ask her no doubt stupid question. My opinion? I would think it hardly mattered to the Witch Celestia, “okay, okay! I got it!” delight blossomed inside of her, a false veneer of confidence pushed forward and shimmered in her eyes to hide away her feelings of horror. “I’d like to ask you about a proposal created by the diarchy of Equestria involving you, Queen Chrysalis of the Changelings.”

That she spoke of my title of Queen of the Changelings told me this would not be a question about where Changeling babies came from. I tried not to let any curiosity filter into my voice, enforcing an irritated resignation as I spoke, an easy task considering how by this point I would need to force emotion into my tone to speak with it. “Let me hear your proposal then, before I pass my judgement upon whatever foolish notion you Ponies have conjured up.”

Twilight Sparkle replied promptly, her tone official and flat, as if reading off a script. “Princess Celestia has decided and declared you shall take part as the first participant of a brand new civil program, to be headed under the administration and oversight of the Solar Apprentice, Twilight Sparkle. The program aims to reform and re-integrate dangerous elements into society, known formally as the Villain Reformation and Reintegration Program, or the V.R.R. program Do you, Queen Chrysalis of the Changelings, acknowledge this and pledge your eager and willing participation?”

There was little I could say to such a grand statement.

Such a grand and foolish and arrogant statement.

Honesty is not a virtue of mine, and it is not often I speak the first thing that comes to mind, but I found on this rare occasion that I did, dropping almost all decorum and pretenses.

“What.”

Of course, that simple word transformed into a raging snarl faster than the purple idiot before me could even blink.

“What!?”

How dare they express their arrogance in such a way? What right did they believe they had to make such proclamations. I found myself considering attempting to turn myself into a dragon- such an act would have killed me instantly, but if survive perhaps I could do so long enough to roast that idiotic mare that dared speak such words in presence.

“T-this was an official decision that Princess Celestia and I discussed over the duration of your  stay here in Canterlot. W-we believed it to be the most suitable course of action rather than a lengthy prison sentence. We believe that i-if you tried to get along with Ponies you wouldn’t want to return to bad habits-”

“Bad habits?! Is that what you call doing everything in your power to save your kind from a life of pain, servitude, or universal death? You Ponies truly are arrogant, believing that the virtues you do not even practice will ‘redeem’ those that go against you. Blind, arrogant, I name you Twilight Sparkle, I name you the Sightless Student. Let it forever be a reminder of your failings, let it be a symbol of shame upon you, let all Changelings that ever cross your path know of your arrogance and foolishness.” My words snarled together, and I was not entirely sure which were spoken in my head and which were spoken aloud.

There was no magic in my words. Not of the Pony kind at least, but there was the magic we had sought to mimic. No lightning or fire were caused by my words. No, instead there was something else. A deep power. Old and ancient and lumbering. Old enough that its awakening was swiftly followed by its fall into slumber. The power of promise.

It did not roar, it did not challenge or command, no, instead I felt it answer the plea of a worm. My plea to name my enemy. It did not answer with mercy, nor with gratitude or greed, but with boredom and a raised brow.

The Sightless Student stood stupefied, but unaware. It was my rage that captured her attention, not my words.

“I… I’m sorry you feel that way,” The Sightless Student spoke, cowed but still ignorant, “but I hope we can work through it with the Power of Friendship-”

“Friendship? Yes because it was friendship that defeated my Changelings, it will be friendship that keeps them from starving, it will no doubt be the well meaning and doubtlessly generous friendship of you Ponies that will keep me alive in the many years to come.” I turned to The Sightless, and a wicked idea jumped into my mind, “Was it not friendship that abandoned you, Sightless? Where was friendship for you on the day of the Canterlot Invasion? Did your friends not all turn on you, trusting a stranger over the friend that introduced them to said stranger? Or did they not leave to be trapped under the caves of Canterlot? It was not your friends that saved the day for you Ponies, or was it the power of Love? Although maybe you are right about one thing, tell me, Sightless, will friendship bring back the lovers Applejack and Rainbow Dash? Or will they stay slain by my hoof-”

“SHUT UP!” The Sightless Student screamed. Bristling, wild anger flailing and lashing around inside of her.

“What’s the matter? I’m sure you’d find it comforting to know that their last thoughts were of what conquered me the first time. Love is a powerful emotion, just ask the sma- ask your sister-in-law, I’m sure she’d be glad to tell you the strength of love, perhaps offer it for you to study rather than the untimely end to your friendships-”

“SHUT UP!” She screamed again, horn crackling with power. The white pages suspended in the air did not so much fall out of her grip but were torn out as her magical prowess gathered itself, creating a blinding beacon of light from her horn.

“You threaten me, Sightless Student? I don’t see how you could. You do not possess the will to harm me, not like your more noble brother. Tell me, do nightmares of me trouble him still? I learnt of some lingering memories of me appearing in his dreams while he was under my thrall. Would you kill me, Sightless Student, and finish what your brother could not?”

My grin was eager as I taunted. Oh, imagine how the Witch would react, knowing her student had given into my temptation. She would no doubt feel shame, and the Sightless Student would know she felt shame. How graciously would she fall, covered in my blood?

Stray arcs of power lept from the Sightless Student’s horn, and I laughed.

Brilliant! Brilliant! How wonderfully brilliant this was! I had given up on provoking them, but it seems at least one of my plans would be a success after all.

“Come now, Sightless Student, do your-”

The sound of a door crashing open cut me off.

The cold of my cell was banished by a warm glow.

The Sightless Student froze at the entering presence.  

I snarled.

The Witch had come.
> Chapter 8 - Conquered
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Twilight, would you mind giving us some time to talk?” 

Those were the first words out of the Witch’s mouth, and her Sightless Student was abashed as she awkwardly shuffled out of the door. Ending the second, and perhaps final, attempt on my life performed by the Sparkle family in the past few weeks. Much to my disappointment.

My eyes remained on the Witch herself, never straying to her Sightles Student, even as the latter glanced back furtively during her ascent out of the darkness of my domain.

The Witch did not step forward until the intruding light of the palace that lay above was finally closed away, leaving the two of us in the dingy torchlight of my prison. Her... I could not put my tongue on the word I was searching for… I knew it was there, but it seemed hunger had taken it from me. I supposed aurora-like would substitute, but it was a substitute that left my tongue restless in search of what I was truly looking for. I did my best to ignore the shallow yearning tugging on my skull, and let it drop to the wayside with all other distractions. Focus is what I needed as I set my gaze upon the Witch, her aurora-like mane admitting a faint glow in the gloom of my domain, casting away the crawling shadows that lurked around the corners of the room and clung to my body like a well-fitted dress. 

Magenta eyes took in my form, no doubt evaluating however sickly my appearance betrayed me to be and making its own judgements. I silently promised to prove whatever evaluations the Witch made wrong. I would not break.

Similarly, my own emerald eyes trailed across the Witch’s form. Still as regal and elegant as it had been for nearly a millennium, her body never moving without the unique almost mechanical grace of meticulous practice. Repetition and repetitions over centuries made to remove every ounce of uncontrolled movement that would have betrayed her, a dedication to a task that only the ageless could match and truly appreciate. Briefly, I wondered if it was still possible for the Witch to look rushed or panicked, or if she had forgotten how as the many solstices passed.

Small and resolutely petty pride tinged my body as the Witch became the first to end the waiting game that had presented itself during our silent evaluations, finally deciding to open whatever charade of a conversation would take its course here.

The Witch’s horn grew flush with its unique iridescent golden glow and the thought that the Witch had decided to kill me here and now briefly flickered past my mind, although my own sense was quick to call out my wishful thinking and close the thought, noting that such a thing was not the Witch’s way and it was far more likely that she was merely doing something to set the scene for however she envisioned the coming conversation she had no doubt planned over the course of a week.

That not a moment later I felt the zap of Equestrian magic ripple through the air as something was summoned to the Witch proved whatever part of my mind that had come to the obvious realisation correct.

A few things were summoned, actually, each held in the Witch’s golden glow as they were set down between the two of us.

A wooden table, if you could call it a table, no taller than the Witch’s hoof, the Ponies probably gave this specific type of table its own special name, and the name was probably stupid and redundant, but that was only one of the items the Witch had summoned, a no doubt atrociously expensive alabaster tray set itself down on the tiny table, carrying with it a set of tea cups, one white trimmed with gold, the other a shadowy dark grey trimmed with the very same gold, and, of course, a pot to match the tray, possessing Celestia’s solar pattern printed on its side and no doubt filled with whatever the Witch’s favourite tea was this century.

The Witch Celestia had invited herself into my domain for tea.

How infuriatingly expected.

“Would you like some tea, Chrysalis?” the Witch offered, her voice far more patient that I would’ve liked or it should’ve been. 

I looked at the bars that separated my cell from any of the Ponies that had chosen to pester me, and at the tiny table that sat outside them.

“I can teleport the cup inside, if you so wish.” The Witch continued, already pouring both cups full of what I assumed to be an excellent and no doubt expensive blend, probably grown from one of the flourishing plants contained within the expansive gardens of Canterlot Palace.

“Tea has never been a vice of mine.” I answered, the Witch did not react in the slightest, not that I really expected her to.

She finished pouring her cup, and her eyes met mine as she brought it up for a taste.

The Witch’s tone was politely neutral as she spoke. The kind of neutral one used to clear away bad air and touchy subjects so they could convince you they’re trustworthy when the moment allows. I had used a similar tone many times before when under a disguise, but I doubt my delivery had ever been as practiced and flat as the Witch’s. “I am sorry if my student upset you, Chrysalis, I forget that despite how far she’s come she’s still not particularly apt at social situations. Meeting with you might have been a bit much for her.”

“I would think you’d be more aware of her ineptness, you trained it. Didn’t you?”

The Witch did not flinch at my words, although she did pause in her drinking. “I would like to know why you think that, Chrysalis.” 

“‘The Elements chose their bearers for their potential, not for what was already there’ words you are no doubt familiar with? It was you who said them after all.”

 Politely, the Witch spoke, voice never rising or wavering, as if merely commenting on a passing observation, “I should not be surprised you are aware of those words of mine, although I fail to see how they justify your accusations, Chrysalis.”

A little voice inside me sparked to life, and I found myself taking its offered suggestion with a glee I didn’t know my failing body could still hold. Nonetheless, I began my work, centuries of practice in my own art doing their work to mask the malicious excitement within me.

“Please, Witch, we are both far too intelligent for you to play dumb. If, as your Ponies suppose, Friendship is Magic, how would you go about cultivating such potential in your student?” A frown grew on my face, even I would not sink to such lows. “You would isolate them from others, not obviously of course, merely press upon them the importance of studying, give them a constant stream of work and material so that they may devote their life to trying to succeed your expectations, and push away those that reach out to her in the process. Have her study magic, and isolate her so that she would have the room to grow, prevent her from cultivating any bad habits or distractions and groom her into your perfect little puppet, ready to do whatever you say. Perfectly ready to learn friendship when you feel the time is right.”

My thoughts briefly reviewed the Witch’s history. She had taken many, many students over the years. Some more accomplished than others. Experiments to learn the right formula for when the time is right no doubt, that recent history the names of her students had become more elusive could be taken as a sign of preparation, the mysterious circumstances that befell her previous student… I still was not sure if that was a particularly bad reaction, or if the Witch guiding them down that path intentionally.

I suppose it did not truly matter, it was not likely I would ever get a chance to find out what happened to her.

The Witch’s face did not twitch, not a hint of frown or smile appeared on her face during the duration of my thoughts, and the eyes which many believed to be windows into the soul revealed nothing.

It was what I expected, but the lack of reaction was a disappointment nonetheless.

“If that is what you have come to believe, Chrysalis, I do not think I could convince you otherwise. Although I’d hoped you would recognise that I am no monster, despite what mistakes I may have made in the past.”

I felt a low growl rise in my throat, “I would not gloss over all you have done in pursuit of your goal as merely ‘mistakes’, Witch. Your own pursuits have been the cause of much suffering.”

“And you have done much the same, Chrysalis, we have lived long lives, but it does not excuse us. You care for your Changelings, do you not? You fight and do whatever you feel necessary to protect them, as do I. We are alike in that regard, and I hope you can put our past behind us.”

“Alike?” I growled, my eyes burning as I snarled at the Witch, “we are nothing alike, Witch. I do whatever I need to so that my Changelings may survive, I do not play games with their lives so that I may enact a foolish plan to save a sister who might very well be the undoing of not just Equestria, but others as well.”

It appeared that was enough to finally cause the Witch’s silence, and in her silence I finally caught a glimpse of something I had not seen in the Witch’s for many years.

Burning, flickering, fleeting flames of emotion. Not much, merely embers of an already burnt out flame flickering to life in the breeze.

But however slight those embers were, they proved to be enough for me to sense the Witch’s long dead heart as the embers faded away once more.

“... I admit it may not have been the wisest decision, but I had faith in Twilight and her friends-”

“Friends that she had not even met yet. Friends she may never have met had a single thing gone differently. Chance upon chance upon chance was taken for a gambit that put the lives of not just your own subjects at risks, but the lives of my Changelings and the other races as well, merely because you were willing to sacrifice Equestria and its Ponies for the chance to see your sister returned to you.”

“I had faith in Harmony, and it has always guided me on the right path.”

The same insidious spark of malice spoke again, and I felt myself following its words, “Is that the same path that led you to ignore your dear sister and leave her in despair?”

Another flare of guilt. If one could cause the brief glimmering brightness amongst the ashes a ‘flare’.

“I am not infallible, Chrysalis, nor are you.”

“No, neither of us are, aren’t we? But at least I can say that I fought with my heart until my end and did not put my subjects before my own wants.”

Magenta eyes met mine through the bars of my domain.

“And what if it didn’t have to be? What if I shared with you what many have so generously shared with me?”

“I will accept no deal or offer from you, Witch.”

“Don’t say what you don’t know to be true, Chrysalis.”

“I do not allow myself to be second-guessed, Witch, my path has long been chosen. My death is inevitable.”

“Your death, Chrysalis, does not have to happen just yet. There is always a chance for something new, isn’t there? Please, allow me to help.”

The words came to me quickly and truthfully.

“I’d rather drown.”

That insidious voice inside me chuckled.

The Witch sighed, her shimmering mane seeming to still for a brief moment. Her heart did not fall, but the Witch Celestia’s expression did shift, despite how minutely and mechanical the movements were, they were present. Its fae grace morbidly fascinating to watch. It held none of the imperfections of life, but that was to be expected of a vessel merely mimicking movements without the meaning behind it.

“I’d like to offer you another way, Chrysalis, one where you don’t have to prey upon others to survive. Where you and your subjects can live in peace with my Ponies without fear or retaliation.”

Faint protests of pain rose from my jaw as I felt my teeth grit, my voice transforming into a low hiss as I answered the Witch. “And what deluded dream are you suggesting, Witch?”

“Starswirl’s notes,” the Witch began, the embers of her heart stirring into what might’ve been a feeling of melancholic loss. I could practically see the memories of a younger time brimming in her heart, but what was there were old and faded things. Knick-knacks to be stored and forgotten about in an attic until someone stumbled upon them while cleaning something away.

I did my best to ignore my own stirring memories, the vitriol of betrayal still stinging sharp. One that does not die to age does not easily forget.

“What of them, Witch? I doubt he spent much time looking for a cure to my hunger, if such a thought even entered his mind.”

“Not directly, and while he did not get the opportunity to learn extensively, he did theorise how Changeling magic works and devised many spells based on what he learnt studying you. In his studies he developed a spell that would’ve allowed a Pony to change the very essence of their magic and being.”

I frowned at the Witch, gears shuffling along in my mind, but did not answer the Witch just yet. 

“The spell is incomplete, and the true purpose for its creation irrelevant to our own, but with your expertise in Changeling magic, and the aid of my student, I have no doubt we could create a ritual that would allow us to transform every Changeling in Equestria into a Pony, and free them from their need to feed on love in the process.”

A purposeful silence formed between us, and when I finally brought myself to speak I did my best to let none of the emotion I felt boiling inside me leak out, instead taking great care to enunciate my words in a slow and careful fashion, “Is that your offer, Witch? Offer my knowledge so that you may transform each and every single one of my kin into one of your Ponies?”

“You would no longer need to feed on love to survive, and we could both move past our differences to live in-”

“No.”

The Witch paused at my interruption, as if honestly caught off-guard. The mechanical being took a moment to restructure itself, her face becoming one of quiet disappointment. I did not allow her to get in the first word.

“I am Chrysalis, Queen of the Changelings, it is my duty to ensure their survival however I can.” My eyes narrowed, and I dearly wished my gaze could bore holes through the Witch’s flesh, “I will never steal their future away. Madness has yet to take me, and I will not forget my promises. My Changelings will live on. I will not steal away their very identity merely because it is convenient for me.”

“Chrysalis, this goes more beyond a mere grudge between us. This is for the future of your kind, please, won’t you at least consider-”

“No,” My voice cut through the Witch’s words, “This is more than just what you call a grudge, Celestia. I have spied on kings and queens of both vice and virtue, and made wed under false identity to more than a few, but I tell you that I have never seen a ruler as lacking in virtue as you, Witch.”

The Witch opened her mouth, daring to speak further.

But I would not let her. “No ruler I have seen has ever been so apathetic to the lives of their subjects than you, even Sombra cared for his subjects well being, if only so that they would remain productive. You claim to love and nurture, and maybe your twisted mind even believes that so, but I can see your heart, Celestia, I see how little you care. You did not rule Equestria because it was the right thing to do, not out of any love for your Ponies, you did so out of guilt, because you had failed your sister. Then when guilt was no longer enough, you ruled because you knew no other way, and when you finally found out your sister was to return to you?” I wished with every fibre of my being that my glare would be enough to burn the Witch’s head from her neck, “You ruled your Ponies so you would have a weapon to purge away the rot that had infested your sister.”

The Witch did not reply, to anypony observing it would seem as if she was merely taking the time to process and think.

But not to I. To any Changeling, to those with the gift to perceive the flames of the heart, they would see the Witch’s little pile of ashes glimmering. Burnt out flames being stoked by bitter winds.

“And now the more tolerable of the twin Princesses have returned to us, and what are we left with?” I took careful attention to lace my tone with every fibre of bitterness and hate I felt, “A fledgling Alicorn of Love, an anachronistic emotional mess that knew better than to meet me in the flesh, the failed remnants of your attempts to create another of your kind, and the mechanical monster who would put the world under her hoof simply because she does not know what else to do.” I felt a sick grin creep onto my face, and decided to give the fires another stoke, “So tell me, Witch, will you kill me? You cannot keep me and you cannot ‘save’ me, so how will you kill me?”

The Witch Celestia sat frozen for a moment, magenta eyes staring not at me but at something far far away.

And I found myself speaking once more, “How about that then? Your Ponies are going to get their happy ending after all, the big bad monster under their beds vanquished by their Solar Princess, and my Changelings will live on and do as they always do. Grow, adapt, and find a new way to survive.”

Even as I found myself talking past the Witch, no response surfaced from her.

“But look at us here, two dead mares, and you offered me tea.” I let out a snort, “I doubt you even understand where you went wrong there, no doubt when your Sightless Student asks if you managed to convince me to give in to your twisted notions of mercy and kindness you’ll give her some prithee remark about how I was irrational and beyond reason. Too far gone to accept the olive branch you supposedly offered.”

The Witch stirred, if only to gaze longingly at the tea she held in her hooves.

“It doesn’t matter anymore, I have lived a long life, and I think-” I paused, abruptly and without reason, only to find myself starting again, “I think-” another stop, the words choked in my mouth as I gazed at the stone floor of my domain.

I could sense the splutters of life in the Witch’s heart slowly dying away.

My words returned to me, and despite my protests they shook with emotion still, “I think I’m ready to sink away into oblivion.”

There was silence, for a moment at least.

It was not short, and it was not overly long.

But there was something very, very final about it.

I heard the Witch Celestia shift, and when my eyes glanced up I saw the slightest imperfection in her movements, the slightest hints at unease.

“I’m sorry.” She spoke, before turning away.

I watched the mare with the burnt-out heart leave, and hoped it would be the last time I ever see the pitiful creature again.





Alone I waited.

Just I always was.

All I had been for a while.

I lived for my Changelings, but it was time for me to cut them free.

It would be the only good thing I’ve done in a long, long while.

Hopefully it would be enough to satisfy.

There was not anything else I could do.

I blinked, a nascent thought struck my mind.

Maybe I could do one last thing for my subjects...
> Chapter 9 - Exalted
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a busy day in the market despite the early hours I travelled in. The habit of leaving home before dawn to fulfill various errands and pick up some groceries just as my favourite shops started business for the day was a habit I was thankful for and one that allowed me to avoid the rush. Despite this and the relatively few Ponies I found it was still far more busy and excitable than it usually was, and I could not figure out why. Everypony was bubbling in excitement- not that that was any different from what it had been since last week when the war was finally declared over and the Equestrian army had marched through Canterlot.

But there was something different in the air. There was something different behind everypony’s smiles today. The simple and relaxed relief that the war was over and the hope for the return of normalcy before the Canterlot Invasion had been replaced by something else. Something that was giving me the distinct impression that I was missing out on something important.

It was worrying, knowing something had happened but not knowing what. The gnawing feeling of doubt as I was unable to figure out what had occurred. Like being told you were looking at a replica of your favourite painting, but being unable to spot any differences no matter where or how hard you looked.

Still, life went on, and while I silently promised to myself to keep an eye out I didn’t let that stop me from continuing my daily routine as if nothing was wrong.

“Just one carton of eggs for today, Missus Milk.” I answered the cashier of the delightful little corner grocery that had just about everything I needed for my shopping. The milky white mare behind the counter absently brushed the rosy pink curtains that made her mane out of her eyes and gave me a look of amused exasperation.

“I keep telling you Flower, you can call me Carton.” She said, smiling at me and placing the carton of eggs in my bag with practiced ease, right on top of the rest of my groceries so that there was little chance they would get damaged if I was ever jostled on my walk home.  

I gave the older mare a kind smile and as I lifted the bag off the counter in the light blue aura of my magic, “Maybe next time, Missus Milk.”

She continued to smile in return, if adding a touch more of her faux-exasperation to it, and gave me a small chuckle for my trouble as I placed the finicky bag and its straps onto my back.

“You really should get something easier to use dearie,” It was a suggestion, one she had made a few times before, but now it was more out of amusement than any of the confusion or seriousness she had asked before.

“Oh you know I can’t do that Missus Milk, Gran would be devastated if she ever knew I threw her gift away or stopped using it, and there isn’t much that makes her happy these days.”

“I know, I know, such a good grandchild she has, looking out for her like that. I hope that my grandchildren grow up to be like you Flower.”

The last strap pulled tight with one final tug, securing it tightly to my barrel. With my focus no longer required I turned to give the mare across the counter a curious look, “Grandchildren? I didn’t even know you and your husband had any foals.”

“Not yet but…” She paused for a moment before leaning towards me with a mischievous glint in her eyes and faux-secretiveness in her voice, “I’m starting to think we might start trying to expand the family sometime soon.”

“Oh? Oh! What are you waiting for then? Don’t tell me Almond’s getting cold hooves.” I didn’t particularly enjoy gossiping, but I knew Carton Milk did and I wasn’t about to ruin one of her hobbies for her by asking her to stop or being unwilling to play along when it was obvious what she wanted me to say, even if it did make me feel a bit uncomfortable sometimes.

Plus, even if it was a bit gossipy, it was a lovely conversation, and Carton Milk loved having something to share.

“No no, it’s me getting cold hooves this time dearie, sometimes I think I’m finally about to bring it up but then Almond will say something about how perfect he thinks life is- and I keep thinking ‘is this as good as its going to get, or can it be more perfect?’” Carton Milk gave a dramatic sigh, and I nodded along, I was pretty sure she just liked to talk about it out loud rather than have my thoughts on the matter, but I wasn’t ever that good at reading Ponies.

Carton Milk looked back at me, going from stewed longing to spicy mischief in a matter of heartbeats, “But enough about me dearie, is there anypony special in your life yet, hmm? What do you have to say, Orchid Flower? The mares must be lusting after a kind stallion like you- or maybe some stallions are doing the lusting?”

I didn’t stop the chuckle rising in my throat, although I did my best to stamp down on the nervousness it held, “No, I have to say there are no stallions or mares lusting after me, but I’ll make sure to let you know if I do find a special somepony.”

“If? I think you mean ‘when’ dearie. It’s only a matter of time. Sooner or later somepony’s going to take notice and tell their friends and you’ll be left having to chase them all off with a stick.”

“But you’ll help me if that happens, right? I can rely on you for a spare stick?” I asked with a lighthearted chuckle, something that was becoming less and less fake with each passing day, as my hooves shuffled in preparation for the long walk after leaving the grocer.

“Of course you can, now you run along. I’ll see you the day after tomorrow.” Missus Milk smiled and nodded towards the store’s doorway.

With a wave goodbye I step out of the store, calling out “See you then!” just as I passed the threshold.

The street was sparse compared to home, although I had learned that for this particular time and corner of Canterlot it was considered crowded at the moment. As the late morning sun lit the streets Ponies had begun crawling out of their homes with expressions ranging from wondrously happy for the new day to agonised exhaustion from having to wake up so early in the day.

I personally never understood the second type, it was just a time of day, surely it didn’t matter when you slept and when you woke so long as everything you had to do got done?

That bubbling joy was still there though, many Ponies seemed to have it mixed with some kind of anticipation as news of whatever was happening (or had it happened already?) seemed to spread through Canterlot like vines along a wall.

Patiently I began to trot home so that I could drop off my groceries. Hopefully by the time I returned the mailpony would have dropped off the morning’s newspaper and I could find whatever it was that was leading to the subtle change in atmosphere.

The streets were getting more and more crowded as I neared the end of my trip home. A strange feeling of uncanny nostalgia prickled at the edge of my senses, but I did my best to stamp down on the unhelpful feelings.

A roll of newspaper had been stuffed haphazardly in my apartment mailbox, sticking out of the metal slot the same way a difficult branch sticks out of a tree. Odd, crunched, and while not particularly eye-catching enough so that it draws your attention back to it every once and awhile after you become aware of it.

The paper was light in my magical grip and balanced evenly and without complaint as I placed the little roll on my back and continued my way up the single flight of narrow and twisting stairs that in more busy hours choked passage and prevented me from reaching my second floor apartment. 

The stairway was surprisingly empty for how busy it felt on the streets.

It brought to mind a strange haunted house, empty halls utterly devoid of life, but just on the other side you could hear the hustle and bustle of Canterlot morning life, the images of streets filled with bodies crawling over and on top of each other to get from place to place with single minded determination flooded into your mind.

Then you looked out a window or out a balcony and saw how few Ponies were actually there.

A few rapid blinks brought my wandering mind back to focus, and a small frown grew on my face. Maybe the night shift was harder on me than I thought? An early night might be better suited.

The apartment door clicked and swung open easily, revealing the space that had become my shelter and hitting me with a small rush of nostalgia for home.

The few Ponies that had seen my apartment had called it pleasant, but had questioned me on my choice of furniture.

Or rather, the lack thereof.

My confusion had led them to showing off their homes and giving me advice on interior decoration - something I was thankful for even if I was unused and unfamiliar to such things.

They showed me large spaces cluttered with all kinds of things, chairs, couches, tables, coffee tables, benches, cushions, curtains, candles, paintings, a multitude of different rugs, and so many different things and knick-knacks that it was hard to keep track of.

I really didn’t see the point in it, and I didn’t have much of a budget for it anyway.

So I thanked them, explained how I’d only recently moved in and still wasn’t comfortable spending a lot on furniture, and did my best to evade the topic every time it was brought up again, even if doing so made me feel a little bad.

I had gotten everything I needed though, during the short trip I took so I could at least honestly say I had gone and gotten some furniture. A new rug to cover the cold wooden floor and provide a comfortable place to rest, a small ‘coffee table’ for me to rest things on when something came up or when I needed to check something in my studies, and some simple curtains to block the view of the apartment from the outside.

Besides those few items (and the bed that had come with the apartment) I had nothing of note. I had briefly considered getting candles for light instead of relying on the electric ones, but I had buckled down and done the math to find that it was better to use the electric lights rather than continuously buy new candles. So long as I remembered to turn the lights off when I wasn’t using them.

We never had paintings at home, and I didn’t feel the need to change that now. Everything else just seemed exuberant and unnecessary.

Maybe once things had settled down I would look into some furniture.

But that was decadence for another time.

I finished putting away the last of my groceries in all the appropriate places. Setting away everything into their snug little draws and shelves for when they will be later called upon when I next need to make a cake.

 It was a strange method, but I had found the recipe in one of the journal’s I had taken when I left for Canterlot, and while it left me initially puzzled, the detailed instructions and confidence which it was spoken in was enough to persuade me to give it a try.

It turned out to be absolutely correct, and delicious.

My eyes settled onto the rolled up newspaper, and my magic reached out to unfurl it. Reading the news had never been something I had done before Canterlot, and I had yet to find a good place to put the necessary tasks in my daily schedule, but I could see its importance to staying up to date with the going ons in Canterlot.

My eyes flickered over to the first heading, where the biggest news was normally shown. A good indication of what I might have to expect for conversation topics for the close future. Even if it was the smaller articles and headlines that I really enjoyed, the journals also said reading them was a good idea. I silently promised to give them a more thorough reading afterwards.

“Princess Celestia announces Queen Chrysalis of the Changelings to face judgement from the Elements of Harmony”

Those were the words at the very top of the first page.

The newspaper fell out of my suddenly non-existent magical grip, the paper landing unsatisfyingly half-way on the rug, although my mind was occupied by other things as slow realisation began to grip me and panic burned at my throat.

Mother!





I had finally found the Ponies of Canterlot. A warm mass of equine bodies travelled in the direction of Canterlot Palace, many likely already eagerly awaiting Princess Celestia to announce the results from the traditional balcony that overlooked Canterlot Palace Square.

To announce what the ‘Elements of Harmony’ had chosen to do to Queen Chrysalis.

But Chrysalis had said the Elements of Harmony were no more, that they could not be used as a weapon against them for a generation at minimum.

So if the Elements were no more, what would happen to Mother?

Whatever the princesses of Equestria decided, of course.

As I danced through the crowd, darting around and between bodies both slow and fast, my mind struggled to figure out what came next.

That Ponies were still making their way, and that few to none were travelling away from Canterlot square gave me hope.

If the announcement had been made, there wouldn’t be a crowd.

If the announcement hadn’t been made, there was still hope, wasn’t there?

I didn’t know. The few journals I had brought with me told me nothing like this. Not that I had studied anyway.

But… they did tell of how to sneak into a building.

The methods were old, and the Equestrians had to have developed some ways to counter them…

But I did not know what else to do.

I had to know what had happened, what Mother’s last words were, if only so I could send a message out of Canterlot, tell the other survivors what had happened.

I just hoped I didn’t get caught.

A Changeling sneaking into Canterlot Palace… I repressed the urge to glance at the Ponies that surrounded me.

It would be bad. I wasn’t as smart as the Queen, I didn’t have the experience of hundreds of years… but we had been taught how to lie, how to find opportunities, and how to figure out how someone thought.

The Ponies had their win, as far as they were concerned Changelings weren’t a threat anymore, they had their peace. It was more nuanced than that, but the Ponies had their win. They thought they were safe now.

And if I got caught… if Ponies saw a Changeling trying to break into Canterlot Palace…?

Ponies would know we hadn’t been beaten. That we were still fighting for our survival.

It would shine a spotlight on the Changelings slinking back into the shadows.

I promised not to get caught. I did not want my brothers and sisters to involve myself in my idotic plan.

The bustle of Canterlot streets had thickened to the consistency of honey the closer I got to Canterlot Palace, but compared to the narrow corridors of the Hive it moved about as fast as honey as well.

Even without access to a whole third dimension of movement it was easy to slink through the crowds with a busy haste that would be the envy of beleaguered parents and excitable foals. The press of bodies and mixing emotions swirling about like a veritabel fog the deeper I weaved through the crowd.

Old advice filtered through my ears as the rhapsody of unaimed anticipation clung and dragged at me. Pulling at me and dragging myself into the will of the crowd with its honey-like thickness.

Adapt and change. Seek out new ways and paths. That is the only way we will survive.

Mother had meant everyone of those words. When staying hidden in the shadows was failing us, she had chosen to change to fit the world. If we could not hide we would conquer.

I pulled myself between two families, muttering hushed apologies when my pushing body jostled them from their tight and rapid conversations. They let it go easily and gave the busy and apologetic stranger a short wave goodbye. Ponies were easy-going like that. 

When conquest and confrontation failed, she chose to adapt once more. Hurt the Ponies so severely that all support for the war would fall away and we would be safe once again.

We were just like a cornered animal really. Nothing more.

But that didn’t work either. Not when entire legions of Equestrians were taken in surprise attacks. Not when squads of Changelings snuck into Equestria to destroy trains and infrastructure. Not even when Mother bit Princess Celestia’s offered hoof did they ever relent in any meaningful way.

So we needed to adapt once more.

I ducked beneath a hovering Pegasus in the crowd. My ears vaguely picked up the startled voices amidst the hum of everypony around me as I made my way deeper into the crowd and towards the palace.

We broke into smaller groups. Rather than one large hive, many smaller ones. Some hiding in the Pony cities, others in the wilderness (well, as wilderness as wilderness gets in Equestria), some spread out between clustered towns. Some fled to make the long trek to leave Equestria entirely.

The Queen insisted we not tell her our plans, and for us to decide it ourselves. Ordered us to choose what was best for us and leave her out of it.

She wanted to be left out of it. She wouldn’t approve of my plan to break into the palace.

But it's our turn to decide, though, and I choose her.

I stumbled through the thick press of bodies into an opening. A line of golden clad Ponies blocking the conventional path towards Canterlot Palace, a gleaming white runway up to Canterlot’s highest point and where the palace gates stood. 

I turned to my left, where not a few steps before me the gardens of a park stretched out before me. Ponies milled about here and there in tight groups, some would still call it crowded.

But it was not a crowd, and there would certainly be some places where there were no eyes watching.

I gave a polite and thankful nod to the nearest guard, who returned it with one of their own for I was just one of their citizens, not a Changeling, thankful for their work and protection, and made my way towards the nearby gardens.





No one questioned or stopped the harried looking Unicorn maid that made her way through the halls of Canterlot Palace.

The staff was hiring again, and she was a new face, obviously unfamiliar with the layout of the palace.

She couldn’t be a Changeling. They were already defeated, and a Changeling trying to sneak in would’ve already been caught. Plus, she didn’t look anywhere near shifty enough to be a Changeling with her rumpled uniform and that cute bow in her pearl mane. Plus, she looked busy, it was best to stay out of her way, maybe offer her directions if she started to look lost and confused.

Those were the exact thoughts that went through Canterlot Palace’s guard. Much to the disappointment of many of their more experienced members if they heard about it. Probably.

But those more experienced guards were taxed, exhausted, and thankful for the break the Princesses had given them now that the war had come to a close. So no one was really there to complain at the moment.

Breaking into a Palace really shouldn’t be this easy. Although the concentration of guards were getting greater the closer I got to my target.

… Mostly because I was following those concentrations to find my target. Hopefully I’d be correct and this was the right way.

It wasn’t much to be noticeable, just an additional Pony by the occasional door. Then maybe two. Then every door in that wing had more and more guards. Then guards began to more frequently patrol the area. Then the patrols grew larger and larger in size.

Many had stopped to question me, but none held any substantial suspicion and were quick to give directions and wave goodbye whenever their suspicion was forced to question the confused maid. It was easy to follow their directions until I was out of sight, only to promptly begin to go my own way once more.

Plus, it was their job to make sure a prisoner didn’t break out. Even if they were to stop someone sneaking in, the presence of the Queen Chrysalis was no doubt a distraction on their minds.

And distantly, so faint my ears strained to hear it in the near-silence my clopping hooves on guarded halls, I heard it.

I frowned and paused, feigning looking around in confusion as my ears twitched and searched for the faint sound.

My attention turned to one of the numerous nearby guards, at how their ears perked slightly and pointed down a nearby hall, unease radiated off of them like mist from a fog.

Was it that way?

Approaching the nearest guard, I asked for directions once more. My voice hushed and embarrassed.

The altogether pleasant alabaster Pegasus responded kindly to the apparently lost and embarrassed maid and pointed me to where I needed to go. Following their directions I made my way to the nearest bathroom.

Slipping inside I fought the urge to squint. Gleaming white tiles mirrors so polished the old myth of mirrors revealing the true form of a Changeling came to mind. White partitions and doors with simple locks sat opposite the mirrors, no doubt cloaking something else immaculate. Whatever the actual staff of the palace were paid, I assumed it wasn’t nearly enough. 

Actually, an immortal spending all their time in a palace would probably splurge a bit on their cleaning staff’s budget to make sure everything is as clean as it could be. I doubt I could stand to live in the same rooms day in and day out for hundreds of years and not find myself annoyed if they were consistently dirty to any degree.

I peeked my head at the mirrors above the taps and sinks, the silly nervousness that pestered my flame was banished away when I saw yellow eyes looking back at me instead of the usual insectoid blue.

Taking the time and opportunity to wash my face- a basic cover that few would question unless I was in here for far too long- I began to think.

The maid disguise wouldn’t get me any closer, and they’d recognise an out-of-place guard no matter how new they were or unfamiliar with their position. Similarly a new guard being sent to relay a message would be shooed away. 

Someone they would trust, someone they wouldn’t question, someone who would have reason to be there but might not already. Someone who didn’t say much and many wouldn’t meet, but would be recognisable enough to not be dissuaded.

As my brain swirled I heard the sound of the bathroom door opening.

Pausing briefly in the repetitive motions I watched the most clinically dressed mare I had ever seen step inside. Her mane and tail were done up in neat buns tied by simple red ribbon, similarly red… I think it’s called a cravat? A red cravat (or was that a scarf?) and collar were tied around her neck, the faint impression that the attire worked as a symbol of station more than just simple accessories clung to my mind like an upcoming sneeze that refused to occur.

She walked into the bathroom with unmatched professional poise, and as my gaze slipped to the mark on her flank I remembered the name to match the face.

Raven Inkwell walked with a certain unquestionable poise and dignity. It didn’t demand attention or recognition, it did not shout loudly or strut its stuff to draw your attention, but it was always there, an exuding aura of unquestionable professionalism so thick that it no doubt extended to everyone Raven Inkwell came across. Infecting them with the same professional spirit that possessed her.

A fluttering and amusing thought made me wonder if her parents referred to her by her full name and title as well or if they were exempt from the infecting professionalism. 

I chased the thought away. It wasn’t important. I had to find a new disguise to get closer to the Queen.

My mind drifted back to Raven Inkwell and her unquestioned professional aura.

I looked up into the slow mirror, my false yellow eyes briefly meeting Raven Inkwell’s brown as she stepped with purpose towards a cubicle.

That would work.

I turned away from the sink, my face turning to the roll of paper that Ponies apparently used to clean their hooves after washing them. How decadent.

A sickly green glow burned through my horn, and Raven Inkwell didn’t even turn to look as my magic struck her with a spell to incapacitate that nearly all Changelings learned.

The mare’s body stiffened momentarily like a cat on edge before collapsing with all the prompt and flavour of a puppet with their strings dropped. Half-remembered lessons sprung to my mind moments before Raven Inkwell hit the ground. I felt my features crinkle into a grimace. I was meant to catch her, wasn’t I?

Happy no other Changeling and especially not the Queen were around to see that sort of shameful display. I hung my head and trudged over to the mare, dragging her into the bathroom stall as my eyes took in her features and committed her patterns to magic.

A minute later Raven Inkwell left the bathroom and began to head towards the location of Queen Chrysalis of the Changelings. That’s what the guards would have said at least. Mother, or at least a proper infiltrator, would’ve frowned at the shoddy job and the inevitable mess that would arise once the real Raven Inkwell woke up.

But I had broken into the Palace, and as I approached another pair of giant doors white inlaid with gold and decorated with numerous flourishes that probably required a formal and sophisticated Equestrian education to properly understand.

I found myself a bit put out by the knowledge that I couldn’t take the time to appreciate it. Or even take the time to understand it better.

But the radiance of flames beyond the door closed in on my mind. Two powerful flames warring for dominance surrounded by an audience of candles.

What was more concerning were the sounds of metal striking stone, metal striking magic, and metal striking metal.

The room, like every room in the palace, was large. A grand arching ceiling high enough for a Pegasus or Changeling to comfortably hover above the ground if they so wished.

But that was not the most concerning feature.

Despite the audience that was gathered and the spectacle that took place before me, the room was remarkably empty.

The walls were blank, there were no windows, the two chandeliers that hung from each end of the long room and illuminated the space were basic and simple compared to the other chandeliers that decorated the palace, even if they were still ostentatious by my standards.

But the room was unlike the rest of the palace in one unique way. It was cold. Empty.

There were no decorations aside from the now jarringly out-of-place doors, but now that I could see their other side even they were lacking in detail and decoration compared to the artwork that shone outward on their front.

The room simply was… empty. Without evidence of an explanation as to why.

But maybe the duel to the death that was happening in the centre of the room explained why.

In the centre of the room, watched by the Princesses of Equestria, the Captain of the Guard, and the remaining Elements of Harmony, all in various states of emotional disarray, Mother and the Small Queen fought.

Dueled might’ve been a better word, but what occurred didn’t have any of the honour or class the word ‘duel’ implied. The Small Queen very clearly barely knew how to use the sabre she held, and the only reason I could see that explained how Mother was still standing was the fact Mother’s legs had literally petrified from the knee down.

It was a fight to the death, but not in the typical sense, it was not a desperate brawl between two combatants each struggling to come out on top. It was quite obvious that the Small Queen was going to win, and that the only reason she hadn’t was her inexperience and inability to get through the defence of her ailing opponent.

For now, Mother for all intents and purposes was dead on her hooves, holding her sabre loosely through gritted teeth, parrying and defending against the slow and clumsy strikes of the Small Queen and only striking back in the softest of margins, and whenever one of her strikes got anywhere close a pink barrier would spring around the Small Queen and shock the blade away.

It was a parody of a fight. She had neither the strength nor the will to defeat the Small Queen.

It was more an execution than anything else. Although that… that was probably the point.

But the Equestrians- no. The Ponies wouldn’t do this, it’s not in their nature, but it is in Mothers. Her death would be one where she dies standing and fighting.

I snuck to the side of the room, hiding amongst the audience. Finding myself near Princess Celestia’s pupil. I blinked once at the emotional equivalent of a post-it note that was stuck to her. A vicious hooked spike of pain, anger, and frustration.

Infiltrators used something similar as a warning against particularly dangerous Ponies.

I was about to shuffle away once more, but whatever good luck I had to get this far ran out before I got a chance.

“Raven?” Twilight Sparkle whispered, her flame rattling with nervousness. But more than that a deep well of incomprehension.

I didn’t trust myself to talk. I wasn’t sure how Raven Inkwell talked. So I merely raised an eyebrow at the lavender Unicorn.

“Can you… nevermind.”

I gave a slow, shallow, nod of understanding - not that I did actually understand anything, but it seemed like the sort of thing Raven Inkwell would do, hopefully the mare would be too distracted to notice if it wasn’t - and began mentally cursing myself as I lingered near the mare.

Said mare turned her gaze to the audience, and mine followed. The Princesses Celestia and Luna watched the fight, sorrow and dissatisfaction emanating from Princess Luna in waves and floods as she watched the fight while the bare tinges of a flame that lurked inside Princess Celestia were arranged in something that probably could’ve been called melancholy if it wasn’t so infected by guilt.

It was a strange sight. Tiny, slivers of flames, imbued with a sorrowful melancholy, rising from the ashes of guilt.

Next was the mare I knew to be Rarity. She was not triumphant over an enemy, nor was there any pride in her, she watched the fight in a state of downcast I had not seen before, in such a state that she was perhaps unable to perceive nor appreciate the bright flame that stood beside her.

A butter yellow Pegasus stood with confidence, fear pouring out of her like blood through an open wound.

But the fear was not for herself, it was a fear tainted with love. The love for a friend. The fear for another, who you cannot help but care about.

A fear directed at Mother.

I almost missed it in her bright flame, but another hook lay within her as well. My senses brushed against it and I felt the-

Safety. Comfort. Peace.

The sensation rushed over me like cold water, as quickly there as they were gone. Mother had deemed that one safe.

I made a mental note to spread word. Fluttershy was a haven. Maybe.

Mother trusted her, and that was probably enough for any of us.

The eyes of the pink mare were on me before my own gaze turned to her. I could feel sorrow and disappointment twisting and distorting her blazing flame like a vice, and as my gaze fell upon her I felt a flare of righteous anger.

Not at me though. At something else.

I shivered all the same.

I didn’t even turn my gaze to Shining Armour. Horror stories told of how a Changeling could get sick from the very presence of his hate, and I wasn’t brave enough to chance the rumours.

“Why are they fighting?”

It was Twilight Sparkle who had spoken, and I turned to see her watching the fight with rapt incomprehension once more.

The words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them. “What do you mean?”

“Queen Chrysalis and Cadance…. Why…? Why did it have to be like this? Couldn’t she have accepted Harmony…? Why does she want to die? Why does she have to kill her?”

My gaze lingered briefly on the purple mare before turning back to the two combatants. Cadance appeared to have nicked one of Mother’s legs, causing Mother to suffer an even more awkward position than before as she half-knelt.

But she still was standing. Still fighting.

“I don’t think she knows how.”

“What do you mean? S-she could’ve taken the time to learn, couldn’t she?” I winced, I hadn’t meant to have spoken out loud, but Twilight Sparkle had caught it and pressed.

I… was already in too deep to back out now…

“If you think in one way too long it starts to become so fundamental that you no longer even question it. It becomes a part of you. If you were pinned down, and someone was threatening to cut away your horn, your very magic, would you fight with your life to keep it?”

Twilight Sparkle’s wide eyes shimmered in uncertainty, twinges and pains of disgust echoing through her body as she seemed to no doubt quite vividly imagine the situation. “Y-yes. I think I would.”

“But an Earth Pony has no horn, and no magic like the ones Unicorns have. It is something so fundamental to you that you struggle to imagine a life without it.” My gaze followed Mother’s graceless movements, flailing her sabre in her jaw with surprising ferocity as she continued to fight on. “I think something like that happened to her. The idea of being against Ponies and everything th- we stand for has been around for so long in her mind that it's become a part of it. That it has become so fundamental that she can’t think around it.”

“But… she could’ve left, couldn’t she? Celestia said that one of her aims for the peace talks was that if she couldn’t convince Queen Chrysalis that we could help her was that we didn’t want to fight her, and that she could leave and didn’t have to fight us.”

That... sounded likely.

But Mother never listened to the peace talks. She believed them a foregone conclusion and used the opportunity to attack instead.

To do more damage. 

To bring more pain.

To drag the war on further.

“I think that… she is a very hurt mare. That couldn’t find the help she needed in time, and perhaps the nicest thing we can do is…” I made a vague and probably very un-Raven Inkwell-like gesture towards the fight.

Twilight Sparkle turned back to the fight.

I turned to the flames so similar they might as well be twins.

Two roaring, dominating infernos of colour and emotion as they clumsily battled to the death.

But there was no rage, no anger, nor even spite or irritation whenever one was struck.

Merely sorrow, love, and reluctant acceptance that this is what had to be done.

Not romantic love, nor familial or that of even a friend or the kind directed towards a pet.

But a love between two paired souls. Of a student eager to learn, a teacher eager to teach, and the separation of time that prevented them.

The flames warred, and the Small Queen managed a lucky hit. The flat of her blade against Mother’s skull.

She staggered, she was weak, she was ill. She couldn’t fight.

But she tried anyway.

Mother’s sabre remained in-between grit teeth as she slowly, slowly got her senses in order.

The Small Queen hesitated.

Then hesitated once more.

I saw her screw her eyes shut and plunged her blade towards Mother’s chest.

I held my eyes tight and shut as I heard the thunk of Mother’s body hitting the floor.





I had left the castle in a daze.

Raven Inkwell had been awoken by a concerned maid, apparently having tripped in the bathroom.

Said maid had left the castle not long after, only to be replaced by a Unicorn stallion when no one was looking.

… I was pretty sure no one was looking at the time, at least.

The Queen was no longer imprisoned.

She was dead.

The streets blurred together.

The apartment was empty when I stepped inside.

My bed was cold when I crawled into it.

At some point during that my disguise burned away.

Mother was gone.

It was just us now.

Alone.

No one to guide us. To lead us. To steer us away from the mistakes of the past.

What are we going to do?

There’s no one….

I blinked, blankets I do not completely remember placing shifting out of the way of my face.

No light shone from behind the drawn curtains.

I felt myself rise, soft fabric catching on chitin as the blankets fell away and I shuffled out of bed.

No one could replace her, but we can still remember her.

And she… I couldn’t ever imagine Mother sitting still. She was never satisfied, never content with how things were, not like the Ponies. Never still, always moving, always planning.

She wouldn’t want us to become still either. Wouldn’t want us to… fade away.

What were we going to do instead? Who would lead us? No one-

No one can replace Mother.

But we weren’t just one.

We were the Hive.

We were many.

No one could replace her.

But we could. We could remember. We could teach each other. More so than before.

All we gather for the Hive.

We can gather more than love, can't we?

Taking a deep breath, I stumbled away from the bed and towards the apartment door. 

I had lived up to my promise now, it was about time for a new one.

Mother wanted the Hive to transform into something new, something glorious.

I won’t forget the promise she made.

I won’t let us forget our history, where we came from, now that Mother is no longer here to remember for us.

We’d need to hide it though.

Writing it down was risky and discovery could be disastrous. Word of mouth would have the lessons we learnt change to fit the speaker, our history would mutate into something unrecognisable in time.

Pictures…

Maybe?

It was a new time after all. Perhaps we could hide our history amongst the fiction and art of Ponies.

It would not be the first time we’ve become fiction.

It might be time to hide now anyway, to sink into the shadows where the Ponies aren’t looking, and maybe, once we’ve been forgotten again, show ourselves once more.

But not as monsters. That didn’t work before.

And I won’t let us forget.

Mother had been Chrysalis.

But who would I be?

I no longer had a Queen in front of me to make the promise before, but I had her memory, and if that is not enough then I will make it enough. A new name, and all the standards and challenges it holds.

I will meet them all. I will exceed them.

For I am Memento.

Or, perhaps, I will be.
> Epilogue - Time
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Here’s the eggs for your pa. Nab me a slice of cake as well, wouldya?”

“Only if you promise to come over again and get it.” I giggled, a smile on my muzzle as I leaned forward, my face brushing up against Honey Milk’s pearl coat and briefly nuzzling against her.

She giggled in return and nuzzled back, “I very well just might, it’s not like ma needs my help anymore with Oatie.”

“Does this mean I won’t have my little teddie to cuddle whenever you’ll come over now?” I spoke with mock grief, the smile that was on my lips prevalent even in my mind.

Honey smiled and gave me a playful shove, “You’ll just have to settle for me then, now get out of here and tell your pa to expect me over.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll meet you after work?”

“Yes. Now get outta here, your pa can’t make us any cakes without his ingredients!”

I chuckled and parted away, trading one last wave as I retreated out the door of the little grocer and into the streets of Canterlot.

Ponies milled about, although ‘milled’ probably implied more aimlessness than was present. The times Dad had taken me Pony watching had taught me how to notice a few things, how that red coated Pony led with their horn, always pointing it in the direction they wanted to go. How the Pegasus with the blue coat and strange haircut shuffled along in apparent reluctance, and how the older charcoal coated mare walked as if she was used to balancing something with a great weight on her back. The Ponies of Canterlot always walked with direction. Nopony wandered about Canterlot, unlike smaller towns where someone might go for a stroll through the neighbourhood, instead always having a direction in mind as they travelled the wide and open streets.  

You could make comparisons between Manhattan and Canterlot, and many people who hadn’t visited both often thought them near the same, but the times I had visited Manehattan with Dad to visit or stay with family had opened my eyes to the many differences between them.

They were both big cities, yes, and both were far more crowded than a town, but Manehattan inhabitants moved with a constant rush. Whether it was going from point A to point B, talking to the Ponies next to them, even the Ponies on the street trying to grab your attention and sell you something moved with that same anticipation, rush, and thrill to get things done that Canterlot lacked. 

Because in Canterlot you couldn’t be seen if you were rushing. Where Manehattan power walked, Canterlot strutted.

Everyone went out looking the best they possibly could, decorated in the latest fashions, trends, and styles as they strutted their way through Canterlot with pop and panache. While Manehattan styled for business Canterlot made its business out of style.

The small things about people that might be seen but never taken the time to really notice or appreciate.

I passed by an apartment block that Dad had told me he once lived in when he first arrived in Canterlot, taking a bit of time to appreciate how the late morning light reflected off the leftover morning dew that still clung to the railings and windows like the grime on the walls of an old warehouse.

My thoughts ruminated on the site until a much more familiar locale took my view as if it was a mother sweeping up her filly into her warm embrace. A simple park where strands of grey concrete walkways twined through the green canvas painted by the grass and trees. Memories of Dad taking me there to play, to watch him paint, or merely to listen as he told me stories and lessons that he had learned and chosen were worthy of being passed down.

The park wasn’t big or complicated, it wasn’t home to a large array of flowers and hedges made into breath-taking pieces of art, and no statues stood to keep the trees company. It was simple, and quiet, the kind of park where many a stressed college student walked, where frisbees were thrown during the afternoon, where people came by themself or in twos, with the rare group of three, rather than collecting the entire family or all their friends to enjoy the tranquility and quiet.

My earliest memories were of that park and its quiet lanes.

I paused briefly, to let my eyes trace the familiar paths and to see who occupied them, to note the musician playing on their guitar and filling the air with the melodies of someone dedicated to improving their skills rather than already possessing the talent.

I moved on, shifting the weight of the groceries in my bags until they were settled and comfortable once more as I picked back up the pace, images of home already filling my mind.

The rest was familiar exercise, trotting the roads and steps that I had travelled ever since we returned to Canterlot.

The door into the apartment gave way easily under the power of my key, and I walked inside without a sound beside the sounds of the door closing behind me and my hooves hitting the wood flooring. My eyes idly glanced towards one of the many paintings on the walls as my body moved without need of my direction.

It was one of Dad’s older works, and one that wasn’t shown off anywhere besides home, a long piece that stretched almost three times as wide as it was tall, the art depicted a torn snowy landscape filled with crystals and frost covered gems, all painted in dusty greys and washed-out whites with charcoal used when darkness was needed. A pink Pony stood in the centre of it’s barren landscape, possessing both wings and a horn, a beacon of pink hope directing washed-out and snow-burdened Ponies away as a blizzard raged on and encroached upon them all.

Whenever anypony asked, Dad said it was meant to depict the evacuation of the lost Crystal Empire in its final moments before it disappeared forever.

My thoughts were snapped back into focus by the thud of the fridge closing after the last of the groceries had been put away.

I blinked for a moment, stunned by brief indecision as the world around me crystalised into focus, before turning around to seek out where Dad had squirreled himself away in the apartment. Although I already had a good guess.

Navigating between the furniture of the home was a thoughtless task, my mind having painted and memorised all the various paths and ways that I could travel between the couches and coffee tables and those small draw things that you put lamps on that I could never properly remember the name of (lamp desk? Lamp table?). Meanwhile my eyes hopped between the artworks that decorated the walls, many painted in Dad’s familiar style, each illustrating a different scene of Ponies in washed colours, with the one or two contrasting bright or dark spots that drew the eye. If one would look closely they’d see that the washed out grey of the “common” Ponies had hints of other colours in them as well, hints of red or yellow or blue or green, something to show the emotion buried inside.

Many of the events illustrated were interpretations of fantastical events that history says may have happened long ago but little could be found to support their occurrence. I remember Dad calling it “Fictional History” once.

Opening a door and peeking into Dad’s studio my vision crawled across the decidedly empty room- not a hint of furniture aside from Dad’s stool and easel - and onto the figure sitting inside.

Dad sat on his stool, reading a letter held aloft in his magical glow.

“Back from getting groceries Dad.”

My voice seemed to shatter him out of whatever stupor he’d gotten himself, and he turned to face me as his eyes did a few rapid blinks. “Oh? Thank you, Tumbling.”

“I also invited Honey Milk over for dinner.”

“Did you? Well, I suppose I should start getting ready to do some cooking anyway. Will Carton and Almond be joining us as well?”

I shook my head, “I don’t think so.”

“Well, I suppose I should make myself scarce after dinner then. Give you two some time alone, eh?” He grinned, and I felt a blush rising through my cheeks.

“Dad!”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Although… I will probably be out after dinner, I need to talk with Casus about something.”

“Really? Casus? You two never get along. I’m pretty sure you both hate each other.”

“I don’t hate Casus, you know that. I just don’t agree with him a lot. But he’s still family.”

“What do you need to talk to him about?”

Dad’s eyes drifted back to the letter he held, “Family is calling me to Manehattan again. It… might actually be important this time.”

I blinked. “What’s going on then?”

“It’s about the Small Queen.”

My mind paused, thinking over those words and the new information it presented.

Finally, my mind justified on a suitable set of words to blurt out. “Princess Cadance is in Manehattan?!” What was the Heir of the Changelings doing there? It made sense, she hadn’t been seen in Canterlot recently and Manehattan was were where most of our family lived- wait, did that-

“Yes, The Small Queen is in Manehattan, I’d known for awhile and it seems that now they want me over there as Canterlot’s representative and to hear my opinion on some matters.”

“Oh…. Can I come along with you?”

The spike of surprise that shot through Dad was almost enough to send me tumbling to the floor.

“I hadn’t even said if I was going or not.”

“But you are, aren’t you? You keep telling me you want to do more to help rather than just be a figurehead, and if they’re calling you even when pretty much no one lives in Canterlot then they’re probably calling a bunch of other local leaders as well. This is your chance! Lots of people are going to be distracted by Princess Cadance, you can use that as an opportunity to lend aid and set up deals without anyone else getting in the way or taking notice!”

“I know, I know, and who gave you such a devious mind?”

“I learned from the best!” I smiled brightly, and felt Dad’s flame warm too.

“I guess so.” He smiled for a moment longer before turning dour, “If they’re calling me in they’re probably going to ask me to tell the story of her claim again. Might want to bring my art supplies in case we get held up there for longer than intended…. maybe I could use the opportunity to see if I could meet with the Small Queen? We really should’ve introduced ourselves earlier. The Queen named her the successor with her death, the Small Queen won the right through combat, but I’m not even sure she knows that or understands how it happened or that I was witness.”

“So I’m coming?”

There was a brief hesitation, but I saw how acceptance blossomed inside of Dad when he answered, “I suppose so, It’s about time you got introduced to everyone important again.” A mischievous smile blossomed on his face, “A lot of them haven’t seen you since you were a little nymph unable to hold a disguise, I bet they’d love to see how the adorable ‘Littlest Flower’ has grown.”

A mix of excitement and embarrassment clashed within me, pulling at me and my reaction in two different directions. Doing my best to hold myself together I stamped down on the two distracting forces and answered, “So, when are we going? You said we might be there for a month?”

“Well…” He looked at the letters again, and I saw his expression morph into one of deep thought, “... We will probably be leaving in a week or two. So we’ve both got some time to prepare and I can get everything sorted with Casus and the others.”

I stepped into the room, straight out of the doorway and towards Dad, familial love blossomed in my chest as I wrapped my hooves around him. “Thank you, Dad.”

“Love you too, Tumbling.” He returned the hug, and we held it for a moment before I slowly pulled away.

“I’m going out again, I’ll be back with Honey after work.”

He nodded as I began to head towards the door, “Okay, see you then. Stay safe.”

I waved him goodbye as I stepped out the door and the process of going around the house and grabbing everything I’ll need for work.








The day was finishing up just as nicely as it had started in the Canterlot Gardens. 

Only the visitors that sought silence and privacy were still around, whether that be couples, the exhausted, the artists whose mind’s would only work when on their lonesome, or the strange… or those who worked here.

Sometimes it was a mix of those.

Artistic couples were the cutest to see together, no question.

I moved around as just another piece of the scenery, doing my jobs on autopilot as my mind and eye wandered.

Through the hedge mazes and the flower gardens and the ponds with their ducks all the way to my favourite place in the gardens.

Statues of equines and the occasional non-equines surrounded me, a menagerie of shapes both accurate and exaggerated.

Images of those belonging to greatness chiselled into eternal stone sprung from the ground like trees. 

Magicians, mages, leaders, warriors, even the fabled draconequus, all had a place among the great statues that stood here. The entire garden was a collage of the past, it’s mightiest and it’s worst, it’s ideals and it’s warnings, and perhaps most amazingly how the artists saw the world around them.

None of those statues were my favourite though, and I planned to end my day with a visit to that one.

It wasn’t an incredibly popular one. It wasn’t representative of triumph over foes or the ideals of Pony Harmony, it wasn’t a statue that had withstood the elements for thousands or even hundreds of years, in fact, it was barely older than a decade and represented something many would rather not think about.

And maybe I was a bit of a daddy’s girl, but it’s hard not to appreciate what he’d managed to do.

He’d made a statue of Queen Chrysalis, the Mother-we-wouldn’t-meet, and placed it right into Canterlot gardens without a single Pony noticing or questioning a thing.

I strolled to a stop when I finally reached the statue, as the near-setting sun dappled it and the niche alcove in it’s warm glow and the final bits of work were being finished for the day.

I had only a few jobs left to do, and I’d do them with her right beside me. Raking the fallen leaves away, picking up any stray bits of litter that a thoughtless Pony had left behind, and doing a check to make sure no statues had been graffitied, either by Pony hoof or by nature’s birds.

“Good evening.”

The voice sent a brief wave of confusion through me. Not that the voice itself was strange- it was soft, calm, and assured, and I wouldn’t call it posh because that implied a certain smugness or condescending attitude that this voice lacked despite it’s unmistakable high-society attitude.

But it was a guest- definitely a guest, and not a frequent one or staff, since I didn’t immediately recognise it- and they had decided to talk to one of the garden caretakers.

It wasn’t unheard of but people didn’t tend to walk through the gardens looking for conversation, especially not this late and usually not in the out-of-the-way spaces like this.

It told me a few things immediately. This Pony wasn’t looking for solitude and they weren’t part of a couple since nopony else was around, nor did they look exhausted, so they were an artistic type or something strange.

I turned to the Pony, an orange coated Pegasus. Her mane was a mess of fiery red and yellow that gave the impression of a blazing fire. Something contrasted by the sparkling glimmers of curiosity that made up her tiny heart. As if she had found a curious looking bug under a leaf.

I gave the mare a simple nod and relaxed smile in greeting, “Hello! How can I help you?”

“I was wondering what your thoughts are about this statue.” She asked, pointing.

I paused for a moment, my mind turning. Gesturing towards the statue of Queen Chrysalis I asked, “This one?”.

“Yes, It’s called ‘A Mother’s Lament’ is it not?”

“Ah, well Miss….”

“Sunset Shimmer.”

“Thank you, Sunset-”

“Please, I prefer Shimmer. The name Sunset is somepony else to me.”

I took the correction in stride, “Shimmer then. I think I could tell you a lot about that statue, but I’m not sure I’m the right Pony to ask.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

I gave the mare a grin, “Because I am definitely biased, so I don’t think it’s my opinion you’d be looking for.”

“And what would make you biased?”

“Well…. My dad is an artist, he does paintings mostly, but he and some of his friends made ‘A Mother Lament’ together.”

“So… this is a statue of your mother?”

I blinked, “Ah no, it's meant to represent my grandmother, or… well, her story at least. My mom is alive and well, if out of Canterlot a lot. But you understand what I mean, the statue is too close to family for me to judge it fairly.”

The curiosity in the mare had yet to die, despite how small it was, and her eyes sparkled as she spoke, “I think you’ve only given me more reason to ask your thoughts. You're close to one of its creators, so you have some idea of your father’s thoughts, but it looks like you spend enough time with it to form your own thoughts. You called it close to family.”

“I… suppose I can.” The statue took centre stage in my vision, it’s silhouette more than just another piece of the world around me.

My eyes ran along its shape, it’s depiction of an old and sickly mare wearing a kind smile as tiny foals played at her hooves.

The mare was going to die soon, and she had accepted it, but was sad to say goodbye.

It was a thought that popped into my mind every time I watched the statue.

But she isn’t, she’s already dead, and now she’s here and made of stone.

But it was like this was how people would remember her. Old, sickly, with her ribs visible underneath her coat and her features worn, sitting down because there was no way her thin stick-like legs could support her. Her smile was kind, and happy, but her eyes were sad, too sad for most Ponies.

The foals that played around her were joyful and seemed oblivious, but when you looked closely you could see how carefully they were playing. They were happy because they knew their mother loved them, but they knew to be careful around her because she did not have long left.

“I had never met my grandmother. But my Dad and the rest of our family tell stories of her.” I began.

Shimmer remained quiet, patiently listening as I began to weave the story together.

“From how I hear it she was a determined mare. Even when she got older she kept the attitude of someone who thought they were going to live forever. She believed in making the best out of whatever she had and not settling for less.”

“She sounds like an amazing mare.”

I grinned, “If she wasn’t I doubt my family would have so many stories of her.”

“What kind of stories do they tell?”

“Stories of how much she cared, how much we meant to her, and how she never gave up. She always fought for something.” I felt a grimace rising at my last words despite my best efforts to suppress it.

When I looked back to Shimmer I could tell she had caught it, a questioning brow was raised.

“She always fought for something.” I sighed. “Always. Even when she didn’t have to. It sounds admirable but… when you think about it, it made a lot of trouble. She didn’t have to fight a lot of the time. It was unnecessary, but she looked for the fights anyway, if there wasn’t anything to fight for she would seek it out. But you can’t fight all the time, you need to relax at some point. She didn’t, and she didn’t listen to us when we told her this, and… it led to her death.”

“She sounds…” Shimmer trailed off.

“Her ideals were admirable.” I concluded, my eyes trained on the statue of the sickly mare that no matter how hard I tried or knew better, a part of me still looked up to. “But we aren’t our ideals, and I think she forgot that. We don’t need to stick to them through thick and thin, and I think we get confused by that a lot. She fought, but all that’s left of her is a statue and our memory, a statue about how she did so much but faded away because of it. We can’t hold onto memories forever. Some stories of her might survive into the next generation, but how many beyond that? How many generations until she’s just a name?”

When I next looked at Shimmer she had a gentle smile on her face, her eyes were burning with a small thoughtfulness however, “You speak wisely…”

“Tumbling Flower, or just Tumbling.” I supplied.

“You speak wisely, Tumbling Flower. What you told me of your grandmother… It reminds me of a friend I couldn’t help. A friend that might’ve been family if I didn’t give her cause to hate me so.”

“How so?”

“She was stubborn. She poured all the spite she felt for me and my teacher, what would’ve been her father if she only claimed her as such, and turned it into stubborn will. Your words now… it has got me thinking.”

“About what?”

“About if I was wrong. Every attempt I made to help her, or help others help her, just seemed to make things worse, but I thought I had to help her when maybe it would’ve been better if I just… stepped back. Let somepony else try.”

“What happened to her, if it isn’t too personal to ask?”

“It… is a story for another time, perhaps. Would you mind if I sought you out here again, Tumbling Flower?”

I thought for a moment, but I think a part of me already knew the answer I was gradually approaching. “I’m heading out of Canterlot on a trip soon, but until then and afterwards I wouldn’t mind if you dropped in for a conversation every now and then.”

“Thank you, Tumbling Flower, I feel as if our conversation will be enlightening.” Her wings shuffled as she took a graceful step away, “Goodbye.”

I waved Shimmer away, and once she was out of sight I turned back to the statue of Queen Chrysalis.

Ideals were funny things.

… Maybe I could bring Honey Milk to Manehattan. Maybe I could share the secrets of my family with her.

She’d love the opportunity to maybe meet Princess Cadance at least.

I turned away from the statue and began to walk away. Those were things to think about tomorrow, because today we had cake.