- A first year student in mineralogy in mock to a certain someone.
An eye opened.
It looked around and saw nothing.
From the primordial clay, it molded beings of thought and flesh. It imbued them with ambition so they could have purpose, and it bestowed them with intelligence so they could think. It gave them wings so they could explore, and the firstborn, its most ambitious creation, was given extraordinary and amazing gifts to mold reality to their wishes.
And it was so that, in those old nights, in those old days, the first creatures awoke in a world they called their own.
The first fire was lit, and the first bread was baked.
There was peace in the world. There was harmony between the creatures.
In those ancient times, as the first villages and then cities rose, as the first monuments were built and the first books penned, the powers of magic started to be explored. Not all, however, for many lacked the connection the firstborn possessed.
Some of the first child race contented with the understanding of levitation, aiding the less gifted by shifting the clouds and teaching them as much as they could. Others, though, pushed their gifts to limits unbound.
Their power grew, and a cataclysm occurred as the first wars were waged. The first betrayal happened. The first death in battle was recorded, the name and identity lost to time, and the first weapons were smithed. But from that death cry, from the echo of the sorrow and despair it brought in its wake, the Eye, wallowing in the actions of its firstborn, was awoken once more.
It sundered its firstborn and cursed them for their betrayal; leaving only a couple as a reminder of past failures.
In the last of the clay, it built its last creature, one with abilities able to rival and exceed its firstborn. One that would keep the balance and harmony. The Eye’s greatest and proudest creation, pouring all it got into preparing them.
And thus it was that the first Changeling was born.
But as the forging of more Changeling occurred, a great magical disjunction occurred. Reality was torn, showing in the impossible gap a realm of cavorting, incomprehensible miasma. It had no rules, and it gave form to a being of malice.
The Changelings named him “Diss’dab Queon” – the Long-lasting Joke. Discord, for the rest of the world he would use as its play thing.
The forging ceased, the Eye expending the last of its essence to create six artifacts and trusting, for the last time, its first children to use them well.
The souls of the last creation, however, was left incomplete. From the depth of their being, an indecipherable hunger would the day ever after plague the Changelings. No matter nutrition, no matter consumption, the Changelings would always starve. Always shunned by a world terrified of them.
In those times, left without a guide or understanding of themselves, a figure immerged. She named herself Lakrosha, and under her reign of a unified Changeling kind, she was able to bring stability to the chaos. And so, the first Queen was christened, bringing the first light of a new dawn to her people, and turning away from that most accursed Eye.
Knowing her kind too little in number and their seminal curse plaguing any growth, Lakrosha made the first Changeling lords and ladies – their names: Abdemon, Sargona, Zultanekha, Oltyx, Kayseris, and Merix – vow that no war would ever be waged against each other and those other races. Raids for sustenance and never more.
And she made them to find a way out of their hunger. A promise more than a vow.
The Changelings might have shunned their creator, but none ever forgot the words of Lakrosha.
She was the First Queen, the first of her kind, and the last for a long while to have brought any degree of change to their society as the promise for deliverance would be lost to the ages. Impossible to achieve.
Infighting, mired by shy cooperation between rival hives ensued.
And for an impossibly long time, it was how the Changelings lived. A life of strife, in a world that hated them.
****
A lone figure walked the long road toward Featherfall – one of Equestria’s northernmost towns. On the ground, two snakes had followed her since her departure from the train station of Acornage at dawn. A line connected to Featherfall, but she preferred the long trek.
Spring felt different here. That aspect had not changed after years of cavaliering around Equestria; returning to the north almost relieved her somewhat.
She had been everywhere, traveled Equestria more than any before her had.
She made short-lived friendships everywhere she went. Some she reunited with briefly in her ceaseless travels, others were forgotten, relegated to simple memories of times passed together.
Many find it odd how a mare traveled alone, particularly one able to easily wrought close bounds as her. Surely, all those experiences would mount to a better result with the company of a friend, they told her. She would simply answer that people tire her. As much as she found it simple to befriend people, staying around them, having to contend with their desires, and knowing all would be brief instances in her life made any sort of long-term relationship difficult for her.
‘Like bright stars in the sky.’ She once told her longest-lasting friend, a cantorlotian Unicorn mare that had introduced her to photography – a passion she would preserve.
Before meeting Coccinelle, she had given little interest in the arts. That inopportune friend even came to offer her a camera, with which she kept a record of all the places they visited together and of those she had prior. The photos were still in her saddlebag, protected within the few books she was able to take back north.
That friendship had lasted four years before concluding in a fiery dispute. An argument she cannot cease replaying again and again in her head. Every time, finding ways to embellish her phrases, to present concrete, succinct, and plain retorts. She tried remaining subtle. She had succeeded in the real dispute, but, like in the real, when directness was demanded, she could not help but cringe at her numerous imagined reactions. Her mouth stumbled, and her tongue could not properly fashion the words she wanted to say. She hated herself for it. She resented the faults she could expose during a direct confrontation. And she hated Coccinelle for making her feel weak.
The two mares lost contact afterward. Coccinelle had been clear; she refused to lay eyes upon her ever again.
Years later, strolling around the Canterlot region was to be simultaneously the bitterest and sweetest recollection of a time spent there.
It was with Coccinelle that she had met the Princess for the first time. From afar, of course; nobody was permitted near the Equestrian monarch.
She remembered being awe-struck by her portance. Her voice left an unwavering taint upon her; its confidence, authoritative, and yet reassuring nature were things she did not forget. Things she wanted to emulate for herself. She was envious of Celestia. She wanted to be like her. To exit her current self and become something greater. She knew the potential was within, but the road ahead dreaded her. The thought both tired and exited her.
A castle tour had even been engaged in. The twin Alicorn symbols did not leave her unquestioning like the others. Coccinelle had told the name of the second and the reason for her disappearance, but it had only left her more unconvinced. “Going to fight an evil”… for over ten centuries… was too broad, too easy, too… simple. The perfect lie, in short. And it had not surprised her. None of what she had seen inside the Castle surprised her. But observing up close the very heart of Equestrian unity was a different experience indeed.
Even the humble, beloved, and praised Celestia could lie. Something open, unhidden, yet so every Equestrian was oblivious to it. If she could lie this openly to her people, why bother with the truth? Honesty was nothing except a throw away word. It made the figure more envious, more resentful of a being she could not reach nor challenge nor emulate.
Respect, but if it was one born of hatred of Celestia’s deeds, or in fear of her hideous, pernicious control over the life of all. The hidden pride and arrogance the Equestrian monarch exude made her blood boil.
The figure looked to her left, looking at the endless stretch of plains, coated by the few patches of trees. Featherfall illuminated the horizon; the inhabitants started their nightly errands. Nightmare Night was soon to happen. Even at the very borders of Celestia’s realm, traditions did not differ. Almost dull in their plain similitude. A few differences existed, but nothing that broke or shifted tradition to claim regional uniqueness. Myriad of creatures roamed the land of Equestria, never the same everywhere, but seldom did anyone move past those seen around Canterlot.
Featherfall – an ominous name for a small town, but amusingly accurate to the border. Its name originated, supposedly, not from some ill fate, nor was it bestowed that name as an odd form of threat to supposed enemies; the name originated from the literal fall of a feather. Not any feather, the feather of a wounded, bloodied Alicorn. The plume was suspended in status in the town hall, the blood dried but its shape incredibly pristine. For centuries, it had given courage to its local militia. For centuries, that dark-blue colored feather was Featherfall’s symbol. Though the story was heavily distorted, its retellings were popular.
The enemy had come from the north. A call for aid followed, but too late as pitch battles engulfed the streets. Then she came. They surrounded her, throwing themselves at her with unrelenting ferocity.
Nobody agreed on the exact circumstances that followed. Some say true, deathly silence fell, and the enemy retreated in a great route. Others declared powerful howls that pushed the enemy away. And others still were adamant that victory was achieved through stalwart bravery and tactical acumen. Regardless, eventually, victory was achieved. The Alicorn did not stay, however, teleporting immediately after the battle, leaving only a bloodied feather on the ravaged ground.
She turned to her right, looking at the wheat fields ahead.
Her mouth trembled, unsure if to keep it open or close. Her legs felt numb.
She had eaten a copious meal before the start of her voyage. She had stopped to take some rest and supply herself with more calories along the way. Yet, she still felt hungry. An indescribable yearning for sustenance.
She did not want to go. That place revolted her. She did not succeed in her endeavor. But she had to return home; the serpents were following.
She turned back once more to her left, refusing to acknowledge the town, wondering how she would be greeted back home. With typical disinterest or with the blossoming flowers of attachment her departure had made burgeon?
Would she be permitted the same levels of freedom? Was she still remembered? Would they accept her even in the face of her failed strive? Of her self-exile?
She took her old emerald rosary in a nervous grip, torturing every scratched and worn pearl until her mind found peace. It had never failed to. A piece of jewelry that was gifted to her in early childhood. At the time, naively, she had thought it was an act of kindness. A simple gesture from an elder to a child she had cared for. She quickly learned it was only a means to an end. Nothing more than to denote her from the rest and to give her more importance. Other children started evading her. She had stopped to be one of them. Her destiny was to be for something greater. Before being given the rosary, she had close relationships with many, but none she would call friends, but many she would play with, share stories only a child’s mind could, and wonder in amazement at every new bit of story they were told of. She liked the latter part. In fact, she was of the few that stayed to hear of the lore of old. These were good times.
More jewelry was given to her – “gifted” always sounded too disingenuous – but she never took off her emeralds. Their sight alone gave her tranquility.
A chariot carrying a family of farmers passed by her, the wooden wheels creaking with their weight. She heard jokes, many she lacked the context for. But they were laughing like children.
They stopped next to her, she quickly hid her rosary, and one of them invited her to sit with them until they reached Featherfall. She politely declined.
They insisted. She shuffled her teeth, mouth closed, and accepted their offer.
They asked her questions, many questions. She kept a firm silence. They eventually left her alone, her mind lost in more meanderings.
As she wondered about a future uncertain, her hunger grew more unrestrained.
And, then, there was only silence on the road to Feathefall.
Chrysalis leaned on her claw, slowly stroking her rosary. She was sleepy. Hunger had eaten away all her vitality.
She munched on invisible food. Perhaps, she thought again, it would make her forget her gnawing hunger. It never worked, but she could still hope it would someday. Sleep was another option she possessed. Though, currently, she was deprived of such an option.
On the other side of the tent that was designated as Chrysalis’ throne room, Captain Alkanex was detailing his plan for the upcoming assault, attacking a border town was not unusual. Staving starvation was paramount, but taking on a settlement the size of Featherfall was seldomly attempted. Villages had always been the main target of their raid; every time the Equestrian repulse was moderate. They would arrive late or mid-battle, rout the mustered forces, and retreat back to their barracks. Fortifications and roadblocks were constructed but lacked the funds to properly prompt up and keep up-to-date with the constant variation in Changeling abilities. For the common Equestrian, shape-shifting was simply a cloak put around the body, changing the creature to its desired form. While true in principle, it was not a simple spell; it was more resembling a well-balanced symphony that the Changeling wreathed itself with and tried, subsequently, to keep the song balanced. The act required not only a properly trained mind but also, to counter the defenses, a particularly good grasp of mathematics to change the song’s frequency almost at a whim. A Griffon poet described in his book, “Serenity of Revelation”, the period immediately preceding a Changeling attack as “the song of woes and hearts lost,” or even, “the melody of the beckoning”.
This particular aspect of their existence intrigued Alkanex. The sound of a Changeling morphing was too acute and distinguishable for him to adequately obscure. His Queen had tasked him to utilize it, to find a way to attack Featherfall and claim it as a victory for her and the realm. Perfection was required, and after many days of back and for with his officers, colleagues, and advisors, Alkanex had a plan. An improved classic.
Infiltration, followed by a series of sabotages aimed at distracting and sewing panic in the populace, then, instead of a full-forced attack, a series of peering ones would be unleashed – weak enough to give confidence to defenders already confident in their abilities after fending off, as Alkanex called them, the “replenishing commandos”. Afterward, the war would evolve inward, hitting the town center directly. It was only then that the last song would be played as the air would be filled with shapes innumerable and varied.
‘Though…’ He hoped she had not noticed his weary tone. But it was the Queen, nothing passed her notice. ‘I… I think my plan is still too generic, my Queen. My additions won’t be… sufficient, I think. Equestria might have adapted to our ways… Maybe we should delay the attack for another day… Until we gather more intelligence.’
He wondered how hunger affected the Queen’s mind. She had closed her eyes by now, sleep seemed to have finally conquered her. It was good, he thought. It was rumored the Queen barely slept; in fact, it was discreetly rumored that she feared sleeping. Nightmares were speculated as being a perpetual staple of her sleep since her childhood years. How she did not turn completely mad from it yet was simply astonishing. It made him prouder to serve her.
By slumbering in his presence, it reassured Alkanex that the Queen trusted him – even if many of her guards were surely lying in wait around them.
Maybe she heard him doubt; maybe she sensed his great unease; but reluctantly, or with obscured glee, she woke up.
She started to tap with one of the fingers of her right claw, her gaze lost on the ground. One drum, followed by a one-second pause, then succeeding drums until the same pattern would repeat again and again until her mind would rest. A tick whose origin no one could explain.
Chrysalis looked toward his general direction. She gradually lowered her second claw, clenching the five fingers together of the other, and slowly adjusted her posture. For someone barely five years his elder, her eyes betrayed years more of separation. Though the training regiments of monarchs were beyond stringent, aided perhaps by some kind of biological advantage, it was rumored that no one of them had managed to completely conclude their studies – except for Chrysalis. Instead, they all tended to revert and focus on a path reserved for them alone. The fabled Path of the Serpent – the path of perfect lies and deceit.
Chrysalis told him to speak up. Objecting was not an option he was given; the Queen’s requests were paramount to orders. Her will was unquestioned and perfect in its design. They are all taught since childhood to not question a monarch’s wishes.
The Queen was, in a way, the mother of them all; proving themselves to their monarch, and receiving her approbation was their penultimate goal. Each one of them, in turn, focused on one task, one activity that would define their life even more. Alkanex had chosen the path of the combatant. More or less the equivalent of an officer path in foreign armies, though his remit extended to all manners of logistics, tactics, and strategies, and the training of troops, with each having its respective sub-path. His path had been arduous and fraught with all manners of setbacks that would discourage any sane soul. But it made him forget. He would forget his hunger, he would feel whole.
Alkanex always wondered if his Queen ever truly hungered. As a hive leader, she was expected to be familiar with and capable of all paths. She needed to know the details and independently act on any path intervention. She was required to understand the intricacies of the Path of Shadows – how to slither undetected and strike unseen; she had to learn the spells of the Path of the Stars; she needed to negotiate like those of the Path of the Wind; and most importantly, master the Path of Change, encompassing art and the morphogenic abilities that so characterize their kind. These amongst others.
Alkanex imagined Chrysalis followed without fault the paths expected of her.
She had the looks and behavior of one drowned in constant thinking. She started drumming again. She appeared positively mad. Yet, that aspect endeared her to her followers and rivals. A true Queen heading a revived people even if that path she had taken them through was taxing.
‘If there is one thing you should know about Equestria, Alkanex,’ calmly said Chrysalis, washing away all traces of weariness from her expression, ‘is that you will never find change in that land.’
‘Indeed?’
She nodded. ‘They are like time-locked. I’ve been around Equestria – a good lot, in fact…’ She paused, blinking into nothingness. ‘Other than the insufferable manner they speak in… or… or the apparels they wear.’ She snapped from her trance. ‘Equestria has a mine of arch-conservatism maintained by playing around with its neighbors. How? Excuse me for lacking the patience, and, in particular, the patience of an immortal to not care for the lives of simple mortals. I am being honest – truly honest, Alkanex. She can plan things with great expediency and faith in her plans. I resent that artificially maintained fate. We were born from nothing and against the odds we have prevailed. We are not strong, however, not enough to face the world alone. But we are clever. And being clever, is the reason why you were chosen, Alkanex. You are admirable.’
For all the benefits of the path system granted, a sort of aristocracy and caste had formed. From these, monarchs would be elected after, at times, years of free politicking between rivals. Internal conflicts scantly occurred as a result, and if they would, it would only be to prove a particular point. A risen figure or family can be easily disposed of with the agreement of a simple majority.
A rigid system that had existed untroubled for centuries. Until Chrysalis imposed herself upon them, that is. In the few years she had been Queen, she wrought tectonic changes to the social order. The old aristocracy was either subdued or eliminated. For the first time in centuries, a monarch was the holder of exceptional freedom of choice. With that choice, she brought to herself, Alkanex and others like him had their chance for greater accomplishments.
‘I am eternally grateful, my Queen. Your wisdom is truly something to behold.’
‘Life experience; learning from the past. Wisdom is a word prone by those that lack it.’ Her head wobbled, like lacking mass, being dragged by the weak wind. Alkanex caught her falling, as things started moving around the tent.
Suddenly, her head slumped, bringing the Queen back to a semblance of terrible wakefulness, her eyes glowing and teeth clenched in barely tolerable pain.
‘Troops ready?’ she asked in a voice edging on the verge of collapse.
He had heard words thrown around the court. “Arrogant humility”. And the more he thought about it, the more he admitted to its truth. He never saw her smile, always frowning for no obvious reason. The few times she did smile, however, it had been shortly before and after her coronation. He had been there as her banner-bearer; he was envied by all.
Regardless of those changes, and regardless of the Queen’s care for them; they were all suffering from privation, their minds constantly wandering off to that singular, biological quest for nutrition. For a time, the habits of the paths would tether them. But they were hungry now, their Queen was suffering with them, and nothing except feeding would finally satiate them.
And Featherfall and its six thousand inhabitants would be the end of that hunger.
Perhaps it was nothing; a simple slight on her part or a cog in her great plan. Alkanex refused to believe his Queen to be weak.
He hesitantly stiffened his stand, his back trembling, and said proudly: ‘Ready to move.’
She lifted herself, denying Alkanex’s claw.
Chrysalis nodded. ‘Begin operations. I will be waiting to hear of your success, captain.’
She sat back in her traveling throne, letting gravity guide her fall into the vaguely carved wooden throne.
Alkanex exited the tent. As he made his first steps out, he was suddenly washed with worries for his Queen’s health as he heard her tapping once more on the armrests.
****
Wolves came out of the forest. Howls pierced the air as a spear would. Knight in armor arrived to relieve the town before being driven off; their chances faltered as their numbers crumbled to a clawful in mere moments.
Friends had turned into foes.
Things bathed in light and dark took the place of an old acquaintance.
Then silence fell as a piercing melody surged from beyond and within the walls.
From the night, came the dreaded Changelings. Unopposed and determined. Every fleeing Equestrian was caught. Every means of communication had been seized or compromised. Pegasi and Unicorns desperately tried to send out messages, their abilities gone as a veil had enveloped their minds. Featherfall was rendered effectively cut off from the world. Even with the fight still going on, the Queen’s victory was complete.
From the midnight darkness, illuminated by the pale moonlight of a scarred moon, green, baleful eyes ignited the dark. In its shimmers, the glimmer of polished armor shone in peaceful resplendence.
There was no emergency in their walk. Nothing to betray doubt or angst. Every gesture was assured and studied, calculated.
The tall figure broke the silence. Shouting words no Equestrian understood.
Her warriors moved in perfect unison with her cries. The chaos turned into an orderly one. Every attack, every cut, and movement became less random and more determined.
Then the inhabitants heard words familiar. Then the warriors moved at once.
The Equestrians saw the Feather floating in the air. The shape of an Alicorn drew itself in illuminated darkness with blue light.
Hope – one cried. They cried for that Princess’s name. Hope – a word that became their battle cry.
For a long moment, it was. Then, the Feather disintegrated in the emerald, baleful fire.
‘Silence will fall!’ the silhouette shouted, her voice reaching every part of Featherfall.
A mare ran. An unarmed Unicorn, aiming directly toward the Queen. Though for one of those creatures, unarmed was only in terms of material, forged weapons. She was stopped by the dark-armored Changelings and tackled on the ground, flaying her skin on the debris with worried gashes, taking out portions of her pale green fur.
Then a familiar voice spoke. Fear truly took hold. Then, the voice spoke in Equish.
She saw her more clearly. She saw an old friend fighting and advancing undaunted. She overpowered her capturer with a blast of magic she surprised herself possessing, nearly burning her red mane. She ran forward. A blast of green energy hit her directly on the horn. Her head spun and she staggered right as she was pinned down to the ground by a Changeling custodian, his fangs close to her throat. He could have rendered her dead if it wasn’t for an order from his mistress.
‘Seli!’ she cried, the headache barely sustainable. ‘Remember me?’
‘I am Queen Chrysalis, Pony.’ She advanced to study the mare, intrigued by her resolve. ‘I am not of your kind. Whoever that Seli is, she must be dead. Or you are simply mad at the sight of your Princess’s failure.’
She looked into her eyes. Coccinelle only saw the tethered madness staring back, not the collective gaze of an ever-calculating mind. ‘I can see that. I am sorry. Your voice and looks… Never mind.’
‘You won’t be spared,’ stated Chrysalis.
‘Then that it is how it ends,’ whispered Coccinelle. She then made a subdued chuckle, earning her more jolts of pain. ‘I am still a star in the sky?’ she asked Chrysalis. ‘I was the brightest,’ she grinned.
‘I don’t know what you are talking about. I don’t remember your name, Pony.’
She saw her chance, maybe an open show of regret would dissuade Chrysalis away from any wrong action. ‘My name is Coccinelle, Seli! You remember that Crystal you told me about? Ardance?’
Nothing, at first. Chrysalis stared blankly at a visage of a Unicorn that confused her. Her eyes moved ceaselessly around; she was thinking, thoroughly rummaging her thoughts for a modicum of sense of the situation.
Coccinelle smiled. She was sure it was Seli. Her arrogant, self-centered, self-righteous, confidant friend. For the four years they had spent together, never did she reveal a concise history of her past, but one thing had been crystal clear to Coccinelle, she did not want to go back. Out of hunger? Maybe, but she imagined that Chrysalis’s time in Equestria would have taught her differently. Maybe it was good within her still remaining, smothered underneath the mask of rule.
‘Nothing?’
‘Nothing.’ The only words she was able to conjure with any clarity.
‘What has happened to you? You look… uneasy. I regret my past outburst…’
Chrysalis’s gaze did not shift. She looked more lost, more confused.
‘Four years forgotten like that? Amounting to this? What has happened to you?’
Chrysalis looked more determinately at the terrified Unicorn, her weariness hidden by a sudden rush of confidence. ‘Nothing,’ she repeated.
‘You’re hungry. You can’t think properly?’
‘Yes,’ she made a harsh hiss.
It was like something had pierced her. She felt her skin shrivel and her spirit drained. The mare felt whatever was left of her magical powers taken out, like rushing water battering rock. Her blood stopped flowing out from her wounds as her heartbeats descended. Her mind collapsed. The world turned dark, and Coccinelle welcomed sleep.
Then, silence fell again on Featherfall.
****
‘A splinter group under the direction of Flavian attacked a neighboring village, my Queen,’ Alkanex began his detailing to Chrysalis. He was standing alone with the Queen in her tent. Typically, it was a battle of influence between the operation’s leader and the scions and representatives of influential houses, but the Queen wanted him alone to be present. Of course, he had heard all manner of insults while gathering the reports. Chrysalis seal he wore on his uniform shushed their urges – a stylized two-winged insignia, circling an eye with a passing arrow pointing down behind it. He hoped a defensive spell was harnessed within it for more secure future dealings. ‘The mongrel hot head,’ mocking Flavian was common currency, ‘rogue operation failed. The reason: a Pegasus, and I quote, Majesty: “took to the sky and slammed me with incarnate hooves. She ripped the arm of one of my warriors, dipped it in molten metal; then used it against us”.’ He paused to shuffle his papers, and occasionally, his thoughts. ‘I am sure mud resembles molten metal.’ He smacked his lips and sighed. Chrysalis snorted amusingly but distractedly. It made Alkanex proud of his jest. ‘Clearly, he was defeated by his troops abandoning him to Merix, but I digress and would not waste your time talking more about that buffoon. I would gladly punish his behavior. I know he is of rank, but he is also under my command.’
Chrysalis made a slow wave with her claw. ‘Bring him here with the rest of your subordinates after finishing. And tell me, then, what you have envisaged for him. I trust you in that aspect.’
Her wandering voice made him uneasy. Reprimanding that idiot of Flavian and humiliating him would bring more pleasure than ever, yet this sentiment was dwarfed by his worry. ‘I will not disappoint you, Queen Chrysalis… But before, though…’ He closed his eyes, hating how casually he had spoken.
She gestured for him to speak, but made it clear she wasn’t pleased by his attitude with a slight frown.
‘Excuse me, my Queen. But during the skirmishes, you singled a mare.’ He paused. He should stop here before venturing too deeply into his monarch’s faultless plans. But Chrysalis did not object. Instead, the Queen only offered a curious gaze. She was almost inviting him to conclude his query. ‘Who was this Pony you instructed us to put into safety, my Queen?’
She did not immediately answer. Her gentle tapping turned more and more frantic. Her eyes moved around uncontrollably, but this time with great vigor. The recollection of a memory hung at the edge of her mind. She sensed it to be true. Really true. She could not encapsulate the full implications of the flashes hammering her mind. They were familiar, the recollections of someone she knew once but was gone. Yet, there was something fascinating in the storm.
Her smirk widened into a grin, her fangs somehow more menacing. And Alkanex witnessed something rare: he watched the Queen genuinely smile.
‘I don’t know, Alkanex.’ She paused, her smile turned wearier, and yet, it beamed still. ‘I really don’t.’ Then Chrysalis laughed, an explosion of uncontrollable humor he found hard to reciprocate. ‘Maybe bad writing, dear. Maybe it is simply bad writing.’
‘Question your beliefs; only then will you know your strength.’
-Former Lady Inspector, Midnight Sun.
‘Your name is Coccinelle, thirty-three years old, born in Canterlot, of a family in service to the Strong Wing household, lived there until five years prior. The only member to have chosen outside the traditional family path. An independent photographer, once an employee for-’ He let her answer.
‘Hachera Group,’ she answered in a tired voice.
‘Ah! That is how we pronounce it, then. Good to know. Why leave Canterlot to Featherfall?’
‘I wanted to reunite with a friend I wronged.’
‘Seli?’ he proposed.
‘Yes.’ She had never mentioned her name prior.
‘She never existed.’
‘I spent four years with her, almost every day, and we would help each other at every occasion. She was real. She is.’
‘Oh, the creature posing as her, yes, but she is a ghost, a shadow in the records. Fake identification card and fake diplomas forged who knows how but with incredible mastery of the art.’
‘But she had a job as a cashier. She also had a bank account she would transfer me money from when I was in trouble.’
‘She was a really good forger. Why did your friend leave?’
‘I told her to leave and never return. I was angry.’
‘For what reason?’
She took a while to answer. ‘She broke a camera. A very expensive one. A Skaven 9.’
‘It is indeed expensive. Myes. How did you pay for it?’
‘With a bank check.’
‘Honesty,’ he played with the word. ‘When did that friend leave? Remember the date you had that dispute?’
‘In the start of summer, I think.’
‘After you bought the camera?’
‘Yes. Immediately afterward.’
‘According to your bank statement, you were debited by almost three thousand bits – two months after she departed, which was at the start of spring, not summer. “Seli” stopped paying rent then – and she was very diligent in that aspect. I ask you once more: why did your friend leave?’
She did not hesitate in her answer, but stayed somehow apprehensive. ‘The investment wasn’t worth it; I was losing money. Suddenly no one wanted my services anymore. Every potential client was diverted to other “colleagues”. She wanted to help. I blamed her for everything. She then left. We were having many disputes already. Going to Featherfall was just to make amends and perhaps find solace.’
‘A loyal friend, you are.’
She lowered her head, nodding slowly.
‘You indeed were bleeding money for a while. Featherfall is indeed less expensive-’
‘I had nothing to take with me.’ She raised her head once more; her voice painted with remorse but still almost emotionless. ‘I sold many of my belongings. I lived then with my few earnings. It was the better option and a good decision. The local elite wanted my services. I can give you the full list, Lord Inspector.’
‘Another day. It is not the only time I will call for you. Another thing – when you arrived at Featherfall, wasn’t it odd how no one knew of Seli?’
‘She was from the north – I knew that much of her past. She had an inane talent to divert questions and topics. It was simple for her. I admired her for that. I liked that about her; it kept things interesting. Sometimes she would lie – she would lie a lot, in fact – but I trusted her. She would never lie about major things, only the minor. She was,’ she smiled for the first time, ‘adorable when trying to convince me otherwise. She always succeeded.’
‘You were very attached to her?’
‘As a sister, yes.’
‘Bad relations with your actual ones?’
‘No. I just never cared for them. I never felt attached to them. I would be there for them out of principle, but I would never make myself for them. I had colleagues at work, no friends.’
‘And friends before meeting her?’
‘No one. I never liked any one I met. I can be open and friendly, but knitting something long term was difficult for me. Never had a romantic relationship either. But boys found me attractive – you understand?’
‘You are ruthless.’
‘I am a cold, detached creature – yes. My parents and siblings told me so many times.’
‘You don’t love them?’
‘Never liked showing it off. I never liked parties or festivities; I always avoided them. Even my own birthdays.’
He leaned forward. ‘Is anyone like you in the family?’
‘No. I was always like that. Even when I was only ten years old or eight. A mental problem they call it. I guess it is, but no one can do much about it. I made a good life for myself – better than anyone expected. I guess it is not a problem.’
‘But that Seli did, she solved that illn- problem momentarily.’
‘I already said the reason why.’
‘Then why did Queen Chrysalis take you aside? Why did she protect you? Was Seli her all along? Was she a Changeling close to the Queen?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe because I did not debate with her. I willingly accepted my fate.’
‘Chrysalis?’ he spat in hilarity. ‘Honorable?’ The thought amused him greatly.
‘Maybe. It is wrong to judge someone that fast – we were all taught so in school. She did not destroy Princess Luna’s feather, we can grant her that.’
He grunted. ‘Her actions are not ones that can be relativized. She has committed some- many atrocities.’
‘I heard some vague words hurled around. Nothing more ostensible than rumors of distant battles or something. Never cared much until the Changelings would get close. But, otherwise, everything can be relativized, Lord Inspector. Just need to find the loophole and you will claim victory. I enjoy messing around with people like that.’
He smiled. ‘Typical for those born around those parts of Canterlot. Speaking of which.’ Lord Inspector took out documents from his binder. ‘You were an average student overall. You were not argumentative but – according to your professors, and those are the words of your last literally one – would “hit the force of a quiet, ravaging storm when provoked”.’ He paused to think about it. ‘Surely an idiot.’ She nodded, approving fully the Inspector’s statement. ‘At any rate, you learned one other language. Can you speak in that barbaric tongue everyone insists is fancy?’ He knew the language very well but hated it deep to his core.
For the first time, he saw her truly smile. It nearly frightened him.
‘T’as un look vlah gud sa mère. Franchement t’es le lemaitre ici. Je prendrai bien des leguides de toi en SAH. Tah pas l’aire vlah costaud mais t’as une cervelle super houge. Get moi ça comment tu te fringues, frère. Chui aussi sûr que ton chibre donne du bon mesper comme l’eau de la fontaine de la leprincesse. Sa changera du mesper vlah dégueulasse que j’me tapes des collègues au boulot parfois. Je suis supair volontaire en SAH.’ She made an off sound with her lips, mimicking a kiss, all the while pointing her hoof back and forth suggestively.
Of course, he demanded a translation of that gibberish, and he readily received one.
‘You disgust me.’
‘Good. No corruption charges for you, then.’
‘Very funny. I shouldn’t have asked,’ he murmured for himself.
‘Bah, cheh, Lord Inspector.’
‘Ça veut dire quoi?’ he amusingly attempted, hating every word he uttered.
‘Ça veut dire feur, mec.’
‘Hein?’
‘Deux.’
He got blocked for a second before aggressively dismissing her with both hooves, ignoring Coccinelle for the exquisite beauty of an empty cup of Arabian coffee.
‘Mange tes grands morts.’
Again, he ignored her. He declared a break, excusing himself to refill his mug and get a croissant. Though he wasn’t sure about the last one, he asked for one and he felt obliged to get her one.
‘I don’t like it,’ said Coccinelle, still mashing her bite.
‘I have to agree – their chocolate is terrible,’ he agreed.
‘Next time you should get griffonscones. Tasty little things.’
‘I will note it.’ He took a pen and did so. ‘Anyways,’ he ate the last of his croissant and sighed loudly. ‘If you had seen one of the Changelings here, would you flee or – simply – greet them?’
‘If they don’t engage me first…’ She paused. He let her think, her expression, already troubled by the scars of drainage, turned more twisted. ‘I think…’ She stopped her thought. ‘If it was Seli, I would not be acting that way. I would still hesitate but not much.’ He let her continue. ‘When Chrysalis attacked Featherfall, I thought she was Seli. Both looked the same; the same colors, height, and color of eyes. But Chrysalis’ were of someone mad. Her voice also sounded similar, but Seli’s was far more gentler. I… You know that feeling – felt it before, Lord?’
‘No.’ He paused. ‘Was Seli Chrysalis?’ he asked, plainly.
‘No. Chrysalis even threatened me by telling Seli was dead.’
‘She knows her.’
‘I called her by that name first.’
‘But she took you to safety.’
‘Maybe I tasted good. Bitter-sweet, I would imagine.’
He smiled. ‘I would imagine that also.’ He adjusted his papers. ‘Would you be returning to Featherfall?’
‘Yes. My house is there. My clients too. And Seli might one day show up again. And other than that and the attack, life is pleasant up there. Winters are particularly good when you are alone, book in hoof, cat purring, and the heater churning.’
He had to admit, it sounded cozy. ‘You have a cat?’
‘The neighborhood cat. His name is Cooky and he is a very good boy. He loves me and I do too.’
He smiled again. ‘Not scared of returning, then? Even with the financial hit?’
‘No. The Princess has promised to unblock funds and force the bank to give up our deposits in full. Je suis à l’aise financièrement. Je ne me plains pas, non.’
He cringed. ‘The former might take a while. The wise Princess is very busy.’
‘Because she never or rarely delegates. I had half-expected her to be present, not you, in all honesty. But, still, it is an honor being the guest of the Lord Inspector.’
‘You are a pleasant mare, too. Cold, distant, and… unique, but pleasant mare nonetheless.’ He quickly examined her. ‘I understand your work colleagues. The lucky stallions they are.’
‘And lucky mares – when I feel like it.’
‘Ah.’ He wondered why he had omitted that fact from his notes and reports.
‘I have a good basin, Lord. Money and work, I imagine, will never be issues for me. Though I do not greatly appreciate the act with the latter. Though I do a good sixty-nine.’
‘Excuse me? Enlighten me.’
‘I tell the girl to close her eyes and to start counting to sixty-eight, then at sixty-nine, I kiss her.’
He closed his eyes, cleaned his face, and took a deep breath. ‘Regardless-’
‘Wait until I tell you about “la position du neuvième étage”-’
‘Regardless,’ he raised his voice, ‘with whom it is conducted or the positions you are doing it with, what you are mentioning is illegal.’
‘Then preemptively arrest me,- What is your name, Lord Inspector?’
‘That’s it.’
‘Lord Inspector?’
‘Born literally and figuratively for the job,’ he boasted.
‘Imagination must be a rare commodity where you are from.’
She had made a life back to herself. Coccinelle, after being released from the holds of the Lord Inspector, had returned to a semblance of her routine in Featherfall. Most of her clients had remained and still sought her talents, the inhabitants had effectively ostracized her. Not that she counted any as friends or cared for their opinion of her, as long as she could still get food and shelter, she did not care for anything.
In Canterlot, her family had come to visit her in her cell. Beyond quick salutes and rapidly shared tidbits, Coccinelle, even after all her ordeal, had shown them only customary attention. Her parents worried tremendously that their daughter had been stripped completely from any modicum of love she had. Her siblings had voiced the same concern.
Coccinelle was disgusted by their sudden show of care. Their attention and worry for the only real hope to see her return permanently to Canterlot and be a thrall to a family that would disregard them at a moment's notice.
She had not hidden her thoughts on the matter. Her mother said it was untrue in repeated verbose attempts, but the relative calmness of the others had made proof and dogged Coccinelle deeper in her belief. They only cared for their prestige and their fragile ego, to see their daughter back, away from the work that granted her true independence.
The Lord Inspector had to intervene to calm the hostility she had shown toward her family. With the many brief interstices they had partook in, he had come to like her. She had only started to appreciate his presence but had waited patiently for the moment for her to escape his grasp. She did not trust him, nor did he grant him and his lackeys any close attention beyond the questions they had the obligation to come toward her with. She had told them everything of note. Nothing more could be gleaned from her.
Other than the interventions of internal services (though she was not sure what inviting themselves to take tea, to then ask a few irrelevant questions, served any purpose), she had severed all connections to Canterlot.
Cooky had been waiting for her outside the house’s door. He had lost weight but, and somewhat surprisingly, he retook his lost fat nearly instantly. Coccinelle had a debt to pay, after all.
Months would pass.
She had regular visits from the local police and the few town’s idiots. At one point, someone had managed to, somehow, perfectly target her bedroom window and threw a bottle of apple cider filled with piss in it. Lucky for Coccinelle, it did not hit her, but the smell lingered for a few days afterward. The inhabitants were not all pricks, however. They had the tendency to offer her free food, and she repaid them by accepting to pay the generous tip grocery stores demanded of her when the lie would be too obvious on their expression.
A minor inconvenience, for her talents at photography and the rapidity of her work, had always made her sought out by the local nobility. Some were kind enough to take her to their magnificent abodes at their expense. They were too unwilling to pay for the services of more talented and reputed individuals than her but had no qualms about ordering garments from Canterlot directly to the north. She had used to have contacts for these types of things, but lost the commissions she would earn from sales.
But life had remained good, somewhat.
‘Cooky!’ she shouted for him to wake up, putting the teapot on the heater and resting her plate of snacks and cup on the table. ‘Get up from there!’ She slammed the book she was hovering, miraculously not spilling tea all over. ‘It is my turn to have some privileged time next to the heater.’
He did not budge.
‘You bitch. Get up, Cooooky!’
She pushed hard enough for him to get up and curl himself for a better, guaranteed seat. But Coccinelle was too quick, and, with a proud grin, stole his place.
‘I am the master, and you have to deal with it!’
He paused to look at her. She made way for him to sleep on her lap.
‘So?’
He kept looking.
‘And…? Ah!’
Cooky took his place between her legs. Less comfortable and optimal, but still good enough for a quick day nap before the 12 pm start of his day.
‘It is about the fall of a dynasty,’ she told Cooky of the book’s content. He knew every book she had read. ‘Surprisingly, a Griffon story. How… unexpected,’ she chuckled. ‘They always make more captivating tales than us. Our version would simply be resumed by: they had a dispute, the Princess intervened, worked her fat ass out of the castle, and everything returned to normal. No intrigue, no nothing. A perpetual status quo. I guess in our books the beginning premise is interesting, but then it just goes downhill real quick. I would prefer the reliance of the winged idiot plot to just disappear.’
She nudged Cooky.
‘You don’t care, do you?’
He stayed asleep.
She snorted amusingly and pet him on the head. He stretched and curled up once more.
The wind whistled inside her house. Snow started to fall.
‘The road will be closed, Cooky. No one will bother us,’ she said with a broad smile.
Coccinelle opened the book and began to read the first words.
‘Wake up.’
Coccinelle opened her eyes at the uttered order. Two glimmering green eyes met her yet-to-be-attuned vision. She could not help but make a mirthless smile.
‘How are your nights?’ gravely asked Coccinelle, unbothered by Chrysalis’s presence.
Chrysalis’s head jolted upward. ‘Explain.’
‘Still waking up randomly without finding sleep? Your twenty hour days; you knocking frantically at my apartment’s door just to pass the time when you were bored after waking up at three in the morning; the nightmares you were so unwilling to fully disclose about.’
Chrysalis lunged forward and grabbed Coccinelle’s throat. ‘We all have those fits, Pony,’ she cursed. ‘I am far from the only one.’
‘But yours were recurrent and almost r-r-regular. W-we spent four years close to each other, I k-know you.’
‘If I was so close to you, why did I leave? It makes little sense,’ rasped the Queen
Chrysalis released pressure, letting Coccinelle take a long breath of relief. The mare cleaned her lips. ‘Because, one day, you showed yourself to me – by accident. You had said you wanted to try a new regime. I had noticed you started clothing your mouth. You were weak because of it, very weak. I tried to help, but nothing worked. I went to the kitchen to get you something. Then I saw that crooked horn, the fangs, and the whole package. I… yelled – to stay polite. You wanted to convince me it was rational – sensible. That you won’t attack me. I refused to hear. You were losing the argument. Then you fed enough to flee. And here we are.’
‘And you think that horn is a unique feature of mine?’
‘It looks eerily similar. So, yes.’
‘A birth defect,’ she surprised herself with the admission. Not even Alkenex was told the factual reason for her horns shape. Like for everyone, he was told it was a battle scar. ‘Nothing more will be added.’
‘Then you remember me!’
‘No.’
Chrysalis did not give Coccinelle the time to speak.
‘For all my amnesia of appreciating a time spent in Equestria around Ponies, your trust and belief in me is-’ Chrysalis noticed she was thinking aloud. ‘It is clear I trusted you, too – or that version of myself trusted you.’
‘It is still you. You and Seli are the same!’
‘I would have remembered. I would have not forgotten.’
‘Then what happened?’ Her smile failed to hide her trembling voice.
‘I was installed as Queen… It must be that.’ Chrysalis paused. She wanted to reach for her neck but forced her claws down.‘Join me,’ she whispered like with a mouth full of dust, with a sudden flicker in her eyes. ‘Become part of my court. Become a trusted member.’
‘You are using me-’ the mare raised her voice in sudden anger.
‘Coccinelle is dead,’ declared Chrysalis, placarding Coccinelle on her living room’s floor.
The mare ponderously crawled away. On instinct, her horn lit up in preparation for a stand, to then be snuffed like a simple candle.
Chrysalis continued. ‘And she will be reborn under a new name, a new face, new colors, and into a whole new life.’ She approached Coccinelle, putting a claw on her shoulder. The feeling was almost disgustingly familiar but calmed the Unicorn enough for her to glance back at the Queen once more. ‘But I might in the future with the time and interactions we will have.’
‘I-I will join you in your kingdom?’
‘In a way. You will work for me and gather intelligence. We will always be in direct contact, do not worry.’
‘You are using me! I am not a tool!’
‘And I want to experience a peaceful night for once!’ she yelled and let it set in Coccinelle’s mind. ‘Knowing someone like you will be useful,’ declared Chrysalis.
The madness seemed to have receded. Those emerald eyes looked familiar. ‘I-,’ She felt the materializing argument to be useless, held from creation. ‘Sel- Queen Chrysalis, I mean.’
‘Seli,’ conceded the Queen. ‘If you want to call me “Seli”, you can. As for your new life, your first rebirth will happen later. Follow me, now.’ She turned away from the mare.
‘First rebirth?’ There was no hesitation in her question, only the most basic curiosity.
‘Yes – first. You will become a creature without a fixed name or look, or even character. You can remain a Unicorn, become a Pegasus, a Griffon, Hippogriff, and many more. Even one of us. You will become my personal informant. My paramount giver of the truth. You will not morph. You will transform into something new. Only I will know of your true name and identity. You will lose family and all past relationships. You will help us, the Changelings, to save ourselves from privation. Do you accept this new fate of yours?’ Chrysalis let her fangs glint in the light in the semblance of a smile.
To let her life away, Coccinelle wondered. To abandon her nation for the service of a foreign monarch. It sounded interesting, enticing even. She had left her old life in Canterlot for the very prospect of reuniting with the only true friend she ever had. This was it. Partially so, but this was it. There was nothing left for her in Equestria. Who will miss her? Clients? A family she never related to?
But…
But she was surely going to bring down the country she grew up in. To, perhaps, bring it into the Changelings’ fold… Should she commit to that most grievous act of betrayal? Did she really care that much? What would she be gaining from continuing her existence in Equestria? She will never be left alone, always followed, always searched, always scorned, and always shunned.
Why do I care so much for her?
The question seemed obvious, simple, and stupid. She should have asked herself that very thing before undertaking… everything.
What could it be? she asked herself bemusedly, feeling as if she had forced the question out. Is that belief? Faith? Love, even?
They all felt almost foreign. Emotions she knew the meaning of; things she understood and could differentiate. She thought. Neither concept had any recognizable tonality. Belief is when, even when presented with all matters of contradicting arguments, the core idea remains unflinching. Faith is similar, and love too. The latter, however, is more fickle. Less prominent and unquestioning.
Attachment?
It sounded easier, simpler, and better. Coccinelle was attached to her friend and cared for her.
She just did. She just… did.
Coccinelle fixated the Queen determinately, her eyes glistening. ‘I wholeheartedly do.’
The Queen smiled. ‘Good. Follow me. We have a long way to the Hive, Cici.’
The mare grinned. ‘It was the name you used to call me by.’
Chrysalis paused. She glared back at Coccinelle with a single eye, partially hidden by her odd mane. The mare answered with a nod.
The Queen turned away, walking like nothing had interrupted her, expecting the Unicorn to trail her.
And Coccinelle did, her awoken cat passively resting on her back.
The trio walked into the raging blizzard.
Powerful winds howled uncontrollably, the cold too much for the mare to walk properly. The Queen did not flinch. Her bearing was of pure confidence. It was as though she was strolling through a field under a warm Sun.
Coccinelle did not question. The act seemed like something one like the Queen could conjure. Nothing too much that warranted questioning.
Then, the storm ceased around them; snow and debris carried by the wind like frozen in place. Something warm basked her, uncomfortable, unwanted. A ghostly sensation spiked her back. The mare turned, but the cat had ran towards the Changeling. She cried for it to be ended, but the Queen did not react to her voice; she was pointing her head to an invisible sky. The shouts fell silent; her mouth refused to open. She crouched, hiding her head between arms she felt breaking, all the while trying to quell the quickly building-up pain. Whatever modicum of sound she could hear was replaced by a constant, powerful resonance. All senses nearly gone, the mare resolved herself to the torture.
A violent flash of green light erupted, blinding her and overwhelming her nerves.
As suddenly as she had lost consciousness, Coccinelle opened her eyes to find herself in a room with a single, stylistically barred window. She was lying on her length on a large, white bed. Her vision caught the sight of a single, partially opened wooden door.
Lord Inspector? Foul Pony, she cursed, a bitterness she recognized in herself but somehow more attuned, more focused. Familiar but also utterly foreign.
Rising herself slowly, the sound of a distant melody playing in her mind, Coccinelle scratched her hornless head with her right claw and spread her wings.
It was early dawn. Two figures climbed the hill next to the camp, bearing with them a bag of precious equipment of great value for one of them. The hill lacked a name. It overlooked a stream, its source not far but covered in thick vegetation from atop. Underneath the cover of fir trees and cedars, a small terrace-like formation lay, made out of a flat rock that seemed to have been sundered from its kin slightly above. On top of the hill, a group of cedars danced in the shy breeze, enjoying the harmony of coursing water and the singing of awakened birds.
A Changeling village was positioned downstream, far from the camp but not enough for the two to not smell the first bread being baked.
Chrysalis called for her guards. She ordered Alkanex to protect the bag and ordered two to follow her and the Hippogriff to the village.
The baker, Nasasret, had heard of the Queen’s establishing a camp nearby. Many wanted to meet her and witness their great ruler. Before her reign, regularly baking in the morning was rare. His mother, her grandmother, and all those before him worked the weak fields for the little yield it brought. They had heard of the Path of Stars having the capability to help them, they had been told it had used to be so long ago, but as the age rolled by, knowledge was lost. The Path retreated to the major hives, neglecting settlements as theirs. Then Chrysalis united them. They started to learn how to better their lives. His sister, Fiyitih, the one whose child will inherit the bakery, learned the ways of the Stars. She reinvigorated the fields of their home with the help of the order. Their clan will continue into a future they saw were excited for.
‘Fi!’ he called for her, putting another batch of dought in the furnace.
‘Yeah? Wait a second.’ She was waking up her son and daughter. Only a year separated them.
‘Leave them,’ he said. ‘Bring me more wood. I am running out.’
‘Ah. Only that? You should’ve said so before.’
‘If Isk had not been a moron and would’ve cut them properly, I wouldn’t have bothered you.’
‘I’ll still need to wake Azi up. She needs to learn how to refuel a furnace.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Yes. You can take a bucket if you want.’
‘Hey! Mom used to do it, and we hated it. I’ll not be like her.’
She heard him laugh. Fiyitih joined him, adding a gentle tap on top of her brother’s head. She was younger than him by five years, but as it was normal for all female Changelings, she was a head taller than him. As tall as one of the “still-ones”, but short to his kind’s standards.
‘Have you ventured next to the Queen’s camp?’ he asked, knowing it would irk Fiyitih. And as he expected, she did not answer. ‘Your squirrel form can fool even Azi.’
She threw a pile of wood next to where he rested them and hovered a half-awaked Azi.
‘Keep your comments for Zultanekha’s.’ A festival common to all Changelings, letting them compete in the exactitude of their skills and the beauty of the melody they could generate.
‘Not your best come back. I always rank higher.’
‘But you never won!’ She put down her daughter, pushing her to the woodpile and pointed to where the logs must go. The young girl did as her mother asked but was not pressed for quickly finishing – her uncle was there to defend her.
‘You neither!’ he countered, taking the log Azi was struggling to hover. He cradled her next to him and let her get more sleep as she rested her head on his leg.
Fiyitih smiled. ‘But I still want to know why she stayed here that long. They were farther. They brought us Food. What could she want?’
Nasasret shrugged, pursing her lips. From the edge of his vision, behind the rock pillar Fiyitih was hiding with her head, he saw what he thought was the black armor of the Queen’s personal custodians. It was said if they would come for you, then your fate was sealed. The Queen had sanctioned you, and she was not to be countenanced with.
‘Fi… Turn around and tell me what you see…’
She was intrigued but did as he wanted. And turned immediately back.
‘Shiiit… I am fucked…’
‘I get my guards are threatening, but not the cause of dread.’
The siblings turned in unison, awed by the sight of the Queen of All. A small crowd had followed her; her intent was here with them specifically. Together, brother and sister knelt.
‘At rest,’ she assured.
Raising their heads, they noticed the pinkish, pale blue beak of a creature they had never met or heard of before. Half Griffon... half Pony? They did not question it. Must be part of the Queen’s presence here; to test the resolve of her subjects at morphing.
‘I would like to buy some of your freshly baked goods.’
‘I-I…’ Nasasret swallowed. ‘I have twenty soon to be ready, Majesty. W-we will pack those already finished. I offer them, even!’
Fiyitih noticed Azi was still sleeping and reached so she could wake her up.
Chrysalis gestured for her to stop. ‘It is still early. She can sleep a few more.’ Fiyitih retreated her claw and sank her head. ‘And I do not wish to take them from you. I want to buy your bread. At a markup, even.’
‘Y-yes.’
‘Good.’
He took Azi aside, waking her up. Chrysalis watched as he, now joined by his sister, were preparing her order, but her attention drifted to the young child sitting alone. Her eyes were half closed; she looked almost sad to have been left alone by the baker. Chrysalis looked back to the two working Changelings – Fiyitih using her learned magic to make the work more efficient.
‘Who is the child?’ asked Chrysalis, taking another brief look at Azi. The mongrel creature next to the Queen made a bemused expression.
‘My niece!’ he shouted; the fire was blanketing his senses.
‘My daughter,’ then said Fiyitih, aggressively eying her brother at the shame he brought them. ‘Her name is Azalyn. We call her Azi. She’s still sleepy, my Queen.’
‘I can see that,’ thoughtfully said Chrysalis. ‘But she does not look happy.’
Nasasret hurried for the answer, stepping away from the furnace. ‘She is finding it hard to relate to other children.’ Fiyitih gave him a slight scorn; he ignored her.
Chrysalis petted the girl on the head, combing the girl’s mane with her claw. Chrysalis snorted at Azalyn’s passiveness.
‘Maybe a gift,’ wondered the Queen. She then pointed to the hill they had come down from, asking if it had a name. It did not, but shortly ceased to be so.
****
‘Like this?’ asked Chrysalis, frustratedly mashing the plain piece of bread she had kept for herself. The Queen had shared most of her purchases with her officers and troops.
‘Lower it.’ Coccinelle lowered down the camera, adjusting its zoom. ‘Here. Also,’ she took one of Chrysalis’s old albums, a small part of her collection of photos, the first the now-Hippogriff had seen, ‘look at these.’
Pictures of the myriad of landscapes speckled around her realm, taken at many times of day and at midnight, particularly favoring the time of the crescent Moon. Some had Changeling leaders sitting with her, and others had dates inscribed next to them from when they had been gifted. She had taken pictures of the many monuments her civilization had built in its long history, and many she and those during her reign had constructed.
One of her proudest pics was the ruins of the Sargona’s, the Builder of Lineage, residence. Nestled on a mountain’s edge, descending into a narrow, windy valley, which slopes had been greatly eroded by the passage of time, the residence had been partially carved into the rock. While difficult to descend, Chrysalis had kept her three times of day streak.
‘I think they look good,’ defended Chrysalis.
‘They do. They are good. But! And that is the… default, I would say… You don’t take the temperature and lighting right.’
‘I am doing it as a passion, not as my source of income.’
‘I know. And I am sure Alkanex and the others have told you how good and professional they look. They are good but not the standards a queen as you should settle with.’
Chrysalis growled. ‘Cur.’
‘Excuse me for wanting to improve your talent.’
Chrysalis did not bother to answer. She briefly stroked the green pearls of her rosary and adjusted back the camera where it had been before, barely a disgusted look on her face.
Coccinelle frowned and said gravely, ‘It, at least, please me that you’ve kept something from Equestria.’
‘Fragments,’ she corrected. She held the camera in a claw and adjusted the objective, trying to find the perfect photo of the creek.
‘I want to know why this and not anything else.’
‘I don’t know. I am usually alone. It is usually peaceful.’
‘You wanted me here.’
‘Then shut up.’ Chrysalis giggled.
Coccinelle grunted, then took another album. Chrysalis could be called many things, but prideful would be definitively the paramount feature.
‘How is the new form?’ wondered Chrysalis, breaking the silence.
‘It had been less than a month ago,’ countered the Hippogriff.
‘That long…’
‘You’re having fun,’ sarcastically said Coccinelle.
‘You haven’t answered.’
‘I feel freer,’ she admitted. ‘Even if my magic is heavily limited, I feel I can do so much more. I thank you for that.’
‘And I thank you for the departure you have given me. It was unexpected.’
‘What do you mean?’
She lifted her head, offering Coccinelle the final judgment of the picture’s stance. Coccinelle only broke a glance when she looked into Chrysalis’s obsession.
‘I’m having fun,’ finally admitted Chrysalis, smiling with all the sincerity she could conjure.
Coccinelle made a thumbs up.
****
Carl was a Reindeer ambassador, the son of a minor noble house, and the only diplomat to have accepted to meet with the Changeling Monarch.
Carl was not happy.
His ancestor had been a great war-leader of the Reindeer. In fact, his entire lineage had been a successful succession of great generals and charismatic individuals. Many were revered heroes for their defense of the land against Changeling raids.
The Mantlerhim family could have remained a great and noble family if it wasn’t for the petty actions of that bitch of a queen.
Carl did not want to remember the dishonor his family had suffered and continued to the camp, grumbling and swearing all the way.
A Changeling (a female, judging by her height), greeted him; ringed on both sides by Changelings clad in the deepest black. He had read of these but could not believe he would encounter them. Carl had also read about the females of their race; he despised how small he felt in front of her. Quite literally infuriating.
‘Greetings, Baron Carl Mantlerhim. I am Lady Kallendrax Kalender, Chancellor of the Estate Royal.’
He extended his hoof to her, welcoming him in return with an appreciation he did not expect, but knew she felt his confusion in his weary movements. The Changelings are known to be masters of deciphering the movement of others.
He hated he had been forced to come alone, but at this very moment, it felt less anxiogenic. A Changeling could have been any of the members of an expanded delegation. His grand-grandfather had written that to know a Changeling is impersonating someone, one needs to search for the shininess in areas it typically would not be. The other manner was at the touch; when the very act of touching would send shivers of discomfort, making your skin crawl, then it might be a Changeling.
If the Bitch had not been paranoid of their success, then he would not have been here playing diplomat. Defeat was never part of the Mantlerhim family. And he insisted on the “was”. Now, they were just bitter.
‘Greetings… Chancellor of the Estate?’
‘Record keeping.’
‘Thrilling.’
‘Yes. Shall we carry on, ambassador? Or do you wish to rest for a while longer?’
He blinked twice. ‘It’s a beautiful emplacement.’
‘The Queen agrees with you, ambassador.’ He is fearful, she thought. Kallendrax withheld a satisfied smile. Something was still bubbling within her being, demanding replenishment. Charmosian, her mentor, had taught her to not fully satiate herself before meeting with those of other races. It would make her more determined, and more attuned in her mission to their monarch. Though the technique had been proposed when dealing with the “grass-eaters”, it was very much useful to deal with those wayward and others needing some railing in.
She could also sense a certain distaste for her profession. She did not want to indulge him nor enter a prolonged discussion with that one. Keeping track of the ledgers in direct service to the Queen was an honor none of her ancestors could claim better. Though she wished Chrysalis could be more comprehensive in her desires and explanations. She had the bad tendency to leave Kallendrax guessing at what she intended of her.
‘It is, yes. It was my recommendation to Queen Chrysalis.’ Why waste an opportunity to boast?
‘Indeed?’ She knew he was finding it hard to believe her; she did not care. It was the Queen’s problem.
‘Unlike what you might have heard about her, her Majesty is not a harsh creature.’
He nodded but stayed quiet.
Kallendrax would have liked to add more, but her muzzle began to twitch. She smelled around, wanting to get a sense out of what she had just smelled. Then, it clicked.
‘You reek,’ she quietly said, looking down at the Reindeer with a slight grimace. Charmosian had warned her of the smell of the grass-eaters; she, until now, thought they had been simple exaggerations.
Carl frowned.
‘I was polite,’ he retorted. Carl was slightly miffed.
They did not speak further. Kallendrax turned, and he followed her to the Queen’s tent. At least, Carl thought, he no longer had to break his neck to some temporary bureaucrat. She, in turn, was just happy to be soon unbothered by him so she could return to take the inventory of the guard’s equipment. She loved this part of her job.
He had thought she would have been scarier. “The Witch Queen”, they called her. Though with a quick look at the crooked horn, Carl understood what the spurned elite meant by that title. Beside the Witch stood five armored Changelings on either side. A sixth individual stood on her right, barren of protection but wearing his formal regalia and confident of the protection the guard were offering or the one Chrysalis bestowed them with.
Carl was sure more Changelings lay around. He began to raise his right arm but stopped halfway through before he could ruin the talks because of simple instincts.
‘You were in breach of our treaty,’ said Chrysalis, dourly.
He wagered their talents for mimicking extended also to their speech. ‘And why should we submit to your demands, Queen Chrysalis?’
‘The treaty King Vafan and I had signed, in short, specifies the following: open war between our both territories is to cease. And I intend to follow it. You were defeated the first time when you preemptively invaded my realm. So much that you accepted to let us raid instead in exchange for peace and thus preventing total war between our people. Then, you disregarded the deal while we made no movements against you outside the terms of the treaty. All my subjects' forces are under my unified privy. I don’t care for full war. I don’t care for war, in brief. A wasteful affair.’
He clenched his teeth behind a closed mouth, then eased the effort. ‘And you think yourself capable of taking down the most powerful creature in this world? Your magic users have many horrid stories circling them, but I doubt that even the gathered might of the Path of Stars could even harm her.’
‘I never intended or will intend to harm her. I am not mad to the point of cursing everyone with the fallout. We, you, and everyone will suffer. The world will come to a scenario it had hitherto experienced.’
It brought him some realization of her rumored animosity toward Celestia. For a reason he failed to properly materialize, Carl felt his mind easing to the Changeling’s words.
She continued. ‘Conquer Equestria? Other nations? Like yours, for instance? For what reason? We lack the number, and deceit alone can only take you so much. You come here fearing we might invade, but we won’t. We only seek a way out of our hunger. And for that, I won’t give up. And so, conquest is not on our agenda. But…’ she let the questioning tone hand, ‘you might be interested yourself. And in this, I can provide assistance.’
He forced himself back into focus. ‘I don’t think you can be trusted.’
The Queen smiled. ‘Let Cici enter!’ she ordered Alkanex.
Moments later, a Hippogriff entered.
‘She’s a visitor and a respected one,’ Chrysalis introduced. ‘Don’t worry.’
He wasn’t sure who she was addressing at the end, and neither the Hippogriff seemed sure. ‘What does it prove?’ the baron asked.
‘Take it out,’ she malignly smiled. ‘Use the artifact you call Revelation to show there is no Changeling underneath. Use that pale copy of the Betrayer.’
The Hippogriff jerked at the sight of a dagger.
Forged by the first king of his kind, Revelation was born in tragedy. King Fredikz had been advised to forge Revelation by his friend and close advisor, at the time, Yimy Tilaa. Both had relied upon each other for years; the king would appoint Tilaa as his regent when dealing with more pressing concerns. But as the Changelings engaged in their raids and the king finally secured his position after years of careful diplomacy and campaigns, and wary of infiltration within his court, Fredikz searched for a manner to easily discern infiltrators, all the while dissuading them from continuing their efforts. Yimy managed to get hold of forbidden tomes and enchanted the metal his friend used to cast what would become Revelation. The weapon was complete and sure of its potential, Yimy Tilaa proposed for Fredikz, the friend and king he had served for years and trusted more than any, to use it on his person.
Seeing the confidence in his friend’s gaze, the king did as Tilaa wished. Then a tumbling melody followed, and the king stared at the true form of his closest friend. For all his animosity to Tilaa’s kind, Fredikz cradled the Changeling as his life ebbed away. The wound left acted as a poison, slowly shutting down Tilaa’s organs – truly named Sadikx. Desperately, the king tried every spell he could use to revert the effects, but for no use. Then, having sensed the use of great and terrible magic, the king’s warriors entered the forge. Seething at the sight of a bug, their mind spun only once, and stabbed the king in the heart, instantly killing him. In his last breath, a stunned Sadikx cursed them, before dying himself. Both impaled by the same spear.
Many within the court demanded revenge, and so it was that war was declared. To the Reindeer's dismay, the Changelings briefly found united in their threat. The long conflict that followed only quickly ended with an assassination, dismantling the First Reindeer Kingdom utterly.
The Reindeer rose Revelation and stabbed the Hippogriff.
Coccinelle squeaked. It did not hurt. In fact, she did not feel a thing. Carl moved back, the dagger still in her line of vision.
Clean! she roared inwardly. Fucking clean!
She turned toward Chrysalis, but her Queen paid no attention to her friend's angrily grimacing features.
‘Indeed, Queen Chrysalis. My excuses. Sincerely.’
‘Accepted,’ settled Chrysalis. ‘Take the cursed thing from him, now. He doesn’t need an incident.’
He swallowed, handing over the dagger to the fancy-dressed Changeling. ‘Indeed.’
****
Preceding the two hours of back and for between the two parties, Alkanex and Coccinelle took themselves aside, hiding behind the Queen’s dent kitchens, and sat on a bench, away enough from prying ears but still close enough to hear Chrysalis’s orders when they would come.
‘The bitch,’ cursed Coccinelle in a broken accent.
‘Better than any world you’ve learned to speak yet,’ he chuckled.
‘Fuck you, Alkanex,’ she abandoned the use of their language. ‘If you were a better teacher…’ she murmured.
‘She knew it would not be hurting you,’ he calmly stated, reassuring Coccinelle by playing with her ear – something she did not know would. Alkanex then handed the dagger to Coccinelle while he was preparing a quick snack for both of them before the coming dinner. She felt disgusted by it. Cooky was sleeping where the Sun hit but did not care about them.
‘I wonder what it would do to you, Alkanex,’ she said behind a malign smile. ‘Might get your clothes dirty.’
He offered Coccinelle her snack, a carrot wrapped in bread. ‘Maybe. Try it, if you want.’
She played with the dagger, taking it back and forward. Then, she stabbed it on the ground and looked at her claw, liking her newly found agility.
‘The earth,’ swallowed Alkenex the same meal, ‘has proven to not be a giant Changeling, it seems.’
‘It’s the fat ass of Celestia. Of course.’
He laughed, withholding it. ‘Yes! Maybe. You Ponies are not that thin looking.’
She smiled to the side. ‘Can’t understand why the Griffons are always bitter.’
Alkenex swallowed his second bite. ‘If you lived in squalor, then you would have understood.’
‘Alkenex…’ She hated when he patronized her like that.
‘Sorry. But I was nothing before the Queen’s rise. We were nothing. Now, we are great. I owe her a lot. You too, no?’
She giggled, sliding her mane behind her ears. ‘I do like being a Griffon. Feels great. Buutt… Do repeat your story, Alkenex. Tell me who you were before the bitch’s rise.’
His head snapped toward her, eying the Hippogriff like a predator on its prey. She wanted to twitch her lips but found herself unable to.
Alkenex tapped her with force on her back, slowly laughing, and repeated, for a hundred times, his life story to her.
****
‘You rather follow the whims and desires of someone eternal?’ casually asked Chrysalis, nearly tired.
‘She has proven more benevolent in her long life,’ Carl reciprocated her weariness. His throat was dry. He had not accepted the offer to drink from the Queen’s carafe, but Chrysalis saw how he eyed it and hovered it over to him.
‘Your ignorance shines. Have you heard of the Princess of Dreams?’
Carl cleaned his mouth. ‘Partially.’
‘For one thousand years. You have reciprocated the full extent of the world’s knowledge pertaining to Luna - for a millennium.’
‘How hypocritical.’
‘Look at the facts. Parse the old records, and then take a good gander at the Moon, for once. I know your people conserve your history pretty well. The Moon was not meant to have an Alicorn “etched” upon it.’
‘What do you mean? What Alicorn?’
She took out one of her albums and let Carl open a random page. ‘Look closer. Focus your gaze on the astral body. Focus. Search for the eye on the right. Find the horn. If you can’t, wait for the night.’
‘I… It’s a Unicorn…’
‘Ever wondered why Equestria has two Alicorns on its insignia?’
‘One to represent Celestia rising the Sun and the other the Moon in her sister’s stead. Celestia and Luna – the Alicorn Sisters.’
‘It wasn’t meant to be that way.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The Orphean. The Traveler. The Forgotten and the Unremembered. The Great Dreamer. The Astral of the Night. Luna – that was her name a thousand years ago. Celestia’s sister. The one that should raise the Moon. The Stewart of Midnight.’
‘You Changelings and titles…’
‘The world is not right,’ she boomed, stroking her rosary. ‘Ever since the Scaring, it has not been right.’
‘The Scaring?’
‘Something happened one thousand years ago, Baron Carl. Celestia is hiding something, and I wholly doubt it is only this one.’
He nodded in rapid succession. ‘I say, Queen Chrysalis, the meeting’s atmosphere was wholly unexpected.’
‘I am flattered,’ she smiled. ‘The dagger will be returned.’
‘I doubt it will dissuade my masters.’
‘We share the same doubts, ambassador. But we can hope.’
He nodded. ‘May I ask?’ She made an acknowledging gesture. ‘What is your approach toward Equestria?’
She adjusted herself on the throne. ‘The traditional manner. But Celesitia needs to know we are not to be underestimated. That is why Featherfall had been attacked.’
Carl nodded again. Then Kallendrax announced dinner was ready, and both he and Chrysalis jumped to the table.
Chrysalis entered the throne room. An audience was scheduled for today. She had postponed it for a while now; continuing to do so would not end well. Many had started complaining about the Queen’s seeming disinterest in the rule of her realm. It was, in a way, true. Her concerns had shifted to the outside, more preoccupied with Celestia’s maneuverings for some purpose she could not yet decipher the ends and outs of, except that Celestia was not involving that other Alicorn – Cadance. Though Chrysalis could not understand the reason for Cadance’s existence. Coccinelle described her as “a living furniture; beautiful, elegant, and guile but nothing more ostentatious”. She is in a profound relationship with the Captain of Celestia’s Guards, however – and Chrysalis made herself remember that fact. Coccinelle described the Guards as a non-threat: “a well-behaved artifact of a resolved time. Equal to a rock in personality and purpose, though far less useful in the latter”.
Maybe an opening… Maybe it was the time for real change… Not the masquerade she had made herself believe in her formative years.
Something more long-lasting… Something truly useful…
She was tired. She was hungry.
‘Hm?’ said Coccinelle, changed beyond her comprehension to the form of female Changeling. Completely unrecognizable with her elongated fangs, deep red eyes, and wings she had yet to get used to their presence and function.
‘Nothing,’ she hissed. Her lips had barely parted each other; she did not bother closing them.
‘For how long have you been awake?’
‘Early… early… It was still dark. I was reading.’
‘Reschedule. Alkenex told me you haven’t slept well for over a week. I can make my report instead.’
‘Would you take my place instead?’
‘You can do it. Easily.’
Chrysalis made a low grin, her fangs were somehow less and more menacing.
‘My Queen, don’t ruin your health.’
‘Your consideration is noted,’ she sighed.
They reached the foot of the staircase leading to her throne. Chrysalis stared quietly at the ornate chair. She did not feel like recalling who in the ever fuck had decided it should be put upstairs. The simple thought of taking them exhausted her further.
She closed her eyes for a few seconds. Coccinelle looked at her with great concern.
‘If-’
Chrysalis, after a long exhalation, ponderously opening her gaze to the pale light of captured Lumens, finally decided to move. She let herself fall on the throne.
The room fell in uncomfortable silence until a predictable sound perturbed the silence.
‘Stop,’ ordered Coccinelle.
Chrysalis ignored her. Her eyes were lost on the closed door, anxiously waiting for the first of her subjects to enter. Her claw eventually ventured to her neck, filling the room with the shy sound of colluding pearls.
She had forgotten to wear her crown. At least, she had her rosary.
****
Lord Ossedax of Praesepis walked past the Gate. A simple name for the main entrance that laid to the Great Queen’s Hive, truly a symbol of her modesty. Though Ossedax thought art of the southern parts of the Land was lacking in that particular aspect. Too similar to the over-furnished, over-explicit art of the damn grass-eaters. The Path of Change had been well-funded over the many years of the Queen’s reign, though in the last few years funds and attention were diverted toward unknown intentions. He remembered the Queen’s Guard being more present, though. Too busy parrying foreign attacks?
Personally, he did not care where his Queen was using the tithes and taxes her officers collected. But he detested the manner with which they were collected. He had heard of some talks to put forth the complaints to the ears of the Queen. Some had made advancement for a plot in case Chrysalis would be deaf to them. Ossedax had made it clear to the Warrior-Monarch of the Hollowed Peak, Skimex, and her fellows that, for all those suppositions and alleged contingencies, he would not betray the Queen. Though, under the advice of his siblings, he nonetheless kept attention and connections to that wayward cabal.
He took his time. He had yet to be called into the Throne Room. In the meanwhile, Ossedax took this moment to explore the garden, ostensibly a forest nestled in the middle of the Queen’s residence. Two or three gardeners tended the whole expanse in those times, not the army of professionals he had been told of.
He had heard of the distinct lack of color any plant possessed when it would enter their Land. Ostensibly in Equestria and beyond, even in the ruined Griffonstone, color was not that unusual. In the center, a theater was arranged, able to hold concerts for a limited number. Rumor was that the Queen had ordered for it to be able to accommodate the entirety of her residence’s staff. There was no place especially intent for her great personage, but Ossedax supposed it that “arrogant humility” the Queen was described as.
Besides the theater, a large plaza lined with pine trees was tilled with simple white stones. Under the shadows afforded, the now-rare art expositions would be organized. Participation was not restricted to a predetermined bunch – though their positions were obviously more favored – but all could participate and attend. Once, Ossedax recalled hearing, the boy cleaning the toilets was given more attention and praise from the visitors than the one of renowned artists. He does not recall the year of that event. He would wager a good ten years by the least; he had attended the two shows in those past ten years. The buffets and the night afterward were wonderful indeed, also. In past court proceedings, the intended were offered meals to pass the time. He smelled the air; his expression turned sour at the lack of freshly made food.
‘Ossedax!’
He turned and saw Arathis, ruler of Neverwarm, heading towards him.
‘Waiting for old sleepy head to welcome you?’
‘No, I am just here, patiently waiting for a bird to tell me to sod off.’
‘Charming! I’ll be waiting for your brush!’ She laughed.
Arathis moved closer and whispered in his ear. ‘Did you know Skimex was here?’
‘Was? She’s gone?’
‘The negotiations were violent and short.’
‘The Queen did not bulge?’
‘From what I’ve heard, she was… more accepting of the changes proposed.’
‘Let’s hope it is the start of a new beginning. By the way, did she accept to help you deal with the uprisings?’
‘She had sent forces to deal with the cells, yes.’
‘Without your prior knowledge?’
‘Without my knowledge… It is… terrifying how quiet they are.’
‘A proof of our Queen’s benevolence and care for your well-being. She just did not want you to waste your own effectives and time on them.’
‘What effectives?’ her voice turned grave. ‘I have almost nothing left of my guards, and forget about militias. I have not the funds for not even a company to be armed and ready. Besides, the border needs it more than we do.’
‘Internal hemorrhaging is always fatal,’ he said, pausing for a second to breathe the cool air. ‘None of us have the funds for a well-armed militia regiment. But she permits us to have a standing bodyguard, you know?’
‘We are of the same age,’ she grumbled.
‘Than don’t act as if you are an upstart! It is the Queen’s will. She is insistent for a good defensive guard for us – you should bring that aspect to her rather than the militia “problem”.’
‘Lord Ossedax,’ a female voice beckoned out.
‘Chancellor Amer!’ he welcomed the Chancellor of the Estate from afar. ‘It is my queue it seems. Wish me luck.’
‘Ossedax…’ she carefully approached him.
‘Yes?’
‘Ask when the new harvest will be. Hunger… is leering its unwelcomed head.’
‘I know. Why do you think I am here?’
‘My Queen,’ he knelt.
She did not seem to care. She looked more tired than his last visit. That Changeling – that “Arriver” – was there, always behind the Queen.
‘The Queen,’ the Arriver began, ‘is undisposed.’
‘I can see that,’ he admitted, not make eye contact with the bizarrely accented company of his Queen.
Chrysalis rose a tired claw, her head barely holding still. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. The Arriver had to wake her.
‘I can leave,’ said Ossedax.
‘No.’ The clarity in her voice rambling in the air like a great wave in the ocean. ‘Tell me,’ she said in a motherly tone, ‘Ossedax, what can I assist with?’
‘My Queen, Arathis already told me of Skimex and her own dealings with you. Though I have not the details, I know of the general intent.’
‘Your honesty is appreciated.’
‘As for myself, what I wish to impart to you, is simply to be in your presence – to know of your well-being, my Queen.’
‘Planning something?’ her voice rumbled.
‘I have not the ambition nor the mind to ever be in your position, Majesty. My hive is doing well for itself and my people are happy with the life they are having. However-’
‘Happy?’ She clenched the arms of her throne, putting all her strength in her fingers. ‘They – we – hunger still. My reign is not complete. My work is not complete. You want to know of my health? Know that, until it is not solved, I will still go on. I will never rest. I am the Queen and you are to know my goals and wishes.’
‘I am loyal.’
She put a claw on her forehead, slowly sliding it. ‘I know. I know. I truly do.’
‘I should leave.’
‘No, you are the first to not be hiding… things.’ Her head slumped. The Arriver caught Chrysalis.
‘Go,’ the Arriver ordered Ossedax.
‘Do not order him!’ yelled Chrysalis, stopping herself short from uttering an insult.
‘My Queen…’ interjected Ossedax. ‘I am a burden on your time. I excuse myself for everything, I am also here to ask for when a new Harvest will be scheduled. My people are happy but, as Arathis did disclose, hunger is creeping.’
‘I know. Plans are underway. You can dispose of yourself. I have no use for you here anymore. You can rest…’
She waved him away, like throwing a used tissue.
Ossedax got up, even more worried for the future they could face.
The door closed, and tapping filled the air, joined by the heavy breathing of an exceedingly sleepier Queen. She could try to sleep, now. Doubt permeated her mind, fogging it and consigning her into a perpetual state of half-slumber.
Coccinelle looked at the source of the sound, sighing in exasperation at Chrysalis’s incessant drumming.
‘You should go to sleep. Now.’
‘Maybe I should.’
Her admission surprised Coccinelle.
‘What?’ smiled Chrysalis.
‘You were honest.’
She laughed. ‘Surprising? Ha! Nooo! I lie to you, of course, but you know more than anyone here. Is it a problem, dear?’
Coccinelle did not answer.
‘Sit down,’ Chrysalis gestured.
The Unicorn-now-Changeling scolded her, but answered the Queen’s wish.
‘You hate me?’ asked Chrysalis, sounding more as an affirmation than a question.
‘I won’t go that far. But I still don’t understand why can’t you still remember?’
She noticed Chrysalis withholding the urge to tap once more.
‘Look,’ began Chrysalis, lifting herself up slightly, ‘I want to remember. I trust you enough to part my plans and doubts with you. Even Alkanex…’ She trailed off, her head felt heavier. ‘Canterlot.’
‘What of it?’ Coccinelle almost cursed.
‘Well, dear, salvation. Time for you to lay the way to our liberation.’
Coccinelle frowned, confused yet fully aware of her friend’s intent. ‘Alkanex would do better.’
‘If the Lady of the Hollowed Peak hadn’t been preparing anything on the side, yes.’
The casualness of the response was a thing Coccinelle never got used to. It abhorred her, in a fashion; yet, she did not care.
‘Look,’ continued Chrysalis, ‘we know thanks to your efforts more details than we ought to have about Canterlot and the Castle of Celestia than we ever could have.’ The obvious stated gave a nice, warm feeling for Coccinelle. ‘However, I need you to uncover one last detail.’
‘It is?’ having the faint idea of what Chrysalis had to say next.
‘You reported of a structure underneath the Castle. Of a warren of crystals of sort. I need to know of a way to enter it.’
‘I had Desperax put on the task, as I reported. We found an entrance.’
‘Yes, but not from the inside. You should have also tested the magical resistance of the place, whatever its past use had to be, Celestia did not put idiots like you inside.’
Coccinelle gritted her teeth with her mouth closed. She hated Chrysalis’s tone. She hated it more than anything.
‘Connasse.’
‘Your words need wards,’ warned Chrysalis.
‘What of the new Harvest?’
‘It is not of your concerns.’ She paused. ‘Go rest. Tomorrow you will transform.’
Coccinelle swung her head upward, and walked away from the throne.
‘My Queen can be assured that I won’t disappoint her,’ neutrally said Coccinelle.
‘Good,’ she answered.
Then, with a simple glow of her horn, she asked for the next one to enter.
‘I hate this world,’ she whispered.
****
Blades rose. Claws turned into diamond-sharp mandibles. Figures clad in obsidian moved fast, scything the surprised warriors and servants with ease.
The Lady of the Hollowed Peak, the Warrior-Monarch of the East, killed three of her assailers. She spat their blood and readied herself for another attack.
The air was filled with a thunderous cacophony as Skimex transformed into an immense white wolf, her eyes of deep crimson. She had honed that particular transformation for years, studying every aspect of the lupine form and behavior. Her form was perfect.
She pounced forward, ripping apart her opponents with claws and teeth.
Skimex howled for her son and daughter. No one answered. She ordered her remaining guards to keep the attackers at bay.
With a devastating turn, she rushed to her children’s last location.
Anguis was dead. Her youngest was dead. His heart was pierced by one of Chrysalis’s peons. Lonomia still stood blood-bathed, deeply scarred, and panting in her manticore form. Blades had found a home on her body, protruding as discarded needles on her back and sides. Her whole being trembled, she could no longer control her aspect.
Skimex lunged.
They were surrounded.
Then it all stopped as an immense, hulking figure sporting for arms wielding swords, more part of the claws themselves than separate entities, and standing on two hooven legs walked forward.
‘Alkanex,’ growled Skimex in spite and bitterness.
She knew deep down it was lost. Yet she could give her daughter the time to run. To escape.
Skimex jumped towards Alkanex’s neck.
She escaped his attacks and landed her teeth on the peon’s throat. With all the force of a predator, she rendered it apart.
Alkanex fell. Warriors swarmed Skimex and Lonomia, fighting for the killing blow.
With his last breaths and last acts of loyal, unwavering loyalty to the Queen, Alkanex mastered all his force into the right side of his body and efforts to keep the form Chrysalis had taught him.
The blades landed on Skimex’s neck, cutting through the meat with ease. Then in a determinant move, Alkanex tore the meat out.
Skimex died.
The impossible, primordial scream of a siren laced with the blare of trumpets and wrapped with vengeance and hate bellowed through the hive’s halls and into the sky of sunset.
Lonomia let go of her discipline. In one mental order, she let her form go loose.
Water, fire, snow, Griffon, thorns, rocks, and lighting – she became all and none. Her form was an incomprehensible, lethal mess of endless change and cavorting aspects. Those of the Path of the Stars wavered in their containment spells as the force of a dragon tail broke all their bones in one swing.
Their leader dead, the last of the rulers of Hollowed Peak lost in her grief, Inades – the second in command – ordered a retreat.
Many more died in their escape, Lonomia’s monstrous form hounding him endlessly.
Inades hoped if they managed to escape the hive, the last scion of Skimex would abandon them.
She did not.
Trumpets blared once more in a way that made rock break and the birds die.
Inades and the few, very few, survivors opened their eyes, expecting the malevolent eyes of the apex to take them away in its hunger. Instead, all was calm. The threat had vanished. Silence reigned.
Hollowed Peak entered Chrysalis’ direct dominion, and Lonomia disappeared into the wilderness.
The child exited her hiding spot. Slowly, carefully she walked to the center of the street. Here, the Changelings had retreated in a desperate debacle following Chrysalis’s-
‘Failure,’ the young girl whispered to no ears but her own. She was used to one hearing her, she thought. It did not bother her, she thought.
The reflection momentarily lingered in her mind. She pushed back the memory of the event down her being, digging it deep within the recesses of her mind. She started to sing, pushing all doubts and fears from her mind. She pushed everything back and focused on her objective, on the singularity she ordered her mind to sail forth toward. To not deviated from the goal and ignore everything that could distract her. She fell back on her teachings, on what her mother had taught her. The girl permitted herself one last thing before singularity: she missed her. For all the harshness, she missed her.
She looked around, scanning the strewed debris left in the wake of the retreat.
Her head ached. A thought rushed up.
Would she still be proud of me?
The girl locked her mind to the task. She made herself forget.
The girl searched.
She did not find it.
Then, hours later, glistening in the afternoon Sun, she saw pale green reflections of precious stone.
The girl rushed to its emplacement at the street’s edge.
There was a string peppered with green flakes, barely enough for a single gem.
The young girl felt dizzy, her mind perturbed greatly. Head bowed, a stunned expression stoically congealing her face, her eyes darkening at the loss of the most precious object she ever owned; the girl remained like this for what felt to her like hours.
‘You are here,’ a Griffon said, putting a claw on the girl’s right shoulder. The girl kept staring at the ground. The Griff did not add anything related to the chattered gems.
The Griff shook the girl a little; perhaps she would react to her presence.
‘Come one, Chry,’ she whispered. ‘Time to go. We are waiting for you.’
‘Failure…’ she whizzed.
The Griffon felt like she had heard the faintest hints of grief in the girl’s voice. She lowered her head, putting herself at the same height. In the dim light of her lantern, she perceived dried streams running down the little girl’s cheeks. The Griffon wanted to speak and reassure her, but she knew it was useless to reason.
‘Let us leave, my Queen.’
Again, the girl did not do a thing.
‘I… I’ll get you a new one…’
The Griff heard a snort, full of grief and sadness.
‘You will like it. I promise.’ She caressed the girl’s arms simultaneously.
‘I lost-’ her voice narrowed sobbing. Something stuck in her throat. ‘I failed completely.’
The Griff did not say a thing for a long minute.
‘We really need to go. We can try again. You need sleep, now.’
The little girl tucked in herself further, nearly completely choking the air between her body and limbs.
The Griff reached her claws to lift the girl but stopped in half-movement. Instead, she played with the girl’s mane, knotting it into a style she might like. But the girl's eyes did not deviate from the broken necklace.
‘Time to go,’ she said in the girl’s ears. The Griff lifted the child. But as she felt her legs leaving the ground, her arms made a silent demand.
“Let me have it.”
The Griff let the girl take the remains of the only gift she had ever truly received. The only thing that ever let her sleep. The girl gritted her teeth and winced her eyes so no weakness could be apparent, but her lower jaw betrayed her internal torment.
With the dirt cradled in her arms, she let the Griffon lift her once more.
Looking around, Coccinelle flew, staying close to the ground.
‘Where is Alkenex, Cici?’ the girl asked.
The Griff kept looking ahead, dodging obstacle after obstacle to their escape.
They reached the plain that led to Everfree Forest, but still, the Griff did not answer. However, she afforded herself a quick glance.
Chrysalis was sleeping, tightly gripping the neck plumes of Coccinelle.
Luna tucked the cloak closer to herself. She held on tightly to her second cup of coffee, she had ordered it to be burning and heavy. She wanted to eat her pastry, but in that minute it was exposed to outside air had made it nearly frozen. Uneatable.
‘Too damn cold. How do people still live here?’
The head of the local militia, like his troops, seemed unhampered by the cold. He had said it was warmer than usual today. He casually was sitting in front of the Princess, like an old friend he was used to meet around that place.
‘We just do, Princess. It is not fancy Canterlot- In fact, I will argue Featherfall is better than that shithole.’ He brought his hooves to his mouth, fearing Luna’s reaction.
‘Oh, calm down! You don’t lie – and that I deeply appreciate. But know how to control your urges. I do,’ she winked.
He made an awkward grin. ‘I am not fancying you.’
‘I love those jokes, I truly do, but let us not make it the norm, eh?’
He chuckled, appreciating the Princess lightheartedness.
A group of Featherfallians passed by them. They ignored Luna, almost snubbing her. Though she noticed their wary walk, like wanting to escape her notice.
Luna’s expression darkened and hid her face beneath her hood. She shook her head; she tried to put down the coming stomach ache. Thehushed tone of the inhabitants, those heard from restaurant’s staff, and the local troops bothered her greatly.
‘You know of Coccinelle, my Lady?’ he attempted to divert her attention.
‘I heard of her,’ said Luna, turning her gaze back at him, forcing a smile that disgusted her for its fakeness. ‘And I remember a… “Seli”? Right?’ she said in nervous curiosity.
‘Yes. Coccinelle was the mare Chrysalis had protected. She was born and grew up in Canterlot as a part of the Strong Wing household.’ Luna smirked in amusement of the name of a family she thought extinct. ‘She became a photographer of certain renown-’
‘And she had chosen to live here? Away from all?’
‘Per Lord Inspector’s work: it was a personal choice in pursuit of a friend she had wronged. If she had succeeded, I know not… She is dead…’
‘You seem unsure.’
‘The body seemed… off. Like almost fake. But nothing could be further gleaned. The Lord Inspector tried but nothing came out of the investigation. He was very angry.’
‘Then I wonder why he had not found her at Cadance’s Wedding…’ Luna exhaled lengthily. She had not been there back then. She still had to sort her own issues with the Realm of Dreams, to fix the years of neglect and the damages she… her… both… had caused to it. Cadance and Shining Armor had excused her for that aspect. Celestia wanted Luna to join her, to stay with her during the soirée ahead, to entertain her. She had insisted, Luna smiled, but they will have the time for more talks in the future. Luna promised.
Though she preferred that promised future to arrive faster. She had not rested after that night. Canterlot had been attacked, yes, but a string of towns and strategic positions had been also heavily compromised. With Chrysalis’s retreat, their withdrawal had been swift. Luna had went to the pursuit of many, but none had the Queen in their midst. She had retreated to her realm, continuing to that warren of serpents was suicidal at best, and Luna lacked the time and support for this endeavor.
Celestia had been busy turning the continuous of the marriage as a show of defiance and the culmination of Equestrian determination. Forced to confront the political downfall wasn’t simple either, but Luna had purposefully kept away from this malarkey.
‘Princess?’ he worried at her tattered expression.
It was better that way. Celestia deserved it.
She shook her head. ‘Nothing. Just regrets. Nothing major.’
‘Regrets do be something major, I reckon.’
Luna laughed slowly. ‘You reckon right. But it is not if they can be changed.’
He nodded. ‘You are wise, Princess Luna.’
‘No. No, I am not. Every half-learned idiot can spew words like I do. But thank you for the consideration nonetheless.’
‘Even after that long absence, you’ve preserved humility.’ He bowed.
She smiled mirthlessly.
‘Are you not worried about the Changelings, Princess? Perhaps we are greatly infiltrated.’
‘Infiltrated? Without doubt. We simply cannot ignore the possibility of it being true. Greatly? Not under my sister’s watch. And until my work is done, under our watch.’ She did not convince herself about the latter part, she was almost discomforted by it.
‘They managed to arrive in Canterlot.’
‘I had been told to not underestimate the mad Chrysalis – just ask any here. I know I cannot, but I had thought they were mere exaggerations. My sister has this bad tendency of her…’ She paused, Twilight’s name flashed in her mind. She frowned. ‘A contagious one,’ she said dourly.
‘Either way, do not concern yourself with them, Princess. The people are just ashamed to meet your gaze.’
Luna crooked her head, wanting to know more.
‘During your absence, they had put faith in you.’ She nodded affirmatively, not knowing what she was nodding to. ‘They have a plume of yours in display, one with your own dried blood upon it.’
‘Ah…’ I should’ve asked Celestia more about the town… shit… ‘They have lost it, I presume…’
‘It is still there. But Chrysalis… mmm… “desecrated” it, if you will. It was a few years before your return, Majesty.’
Luna got up, pushing the chair with her and threatening to let it fall on the ground. Not bothering to look behind her, she began to walk away from him.
‘Excuse me.’
‘Her Highness should not excuse herself,’ he nodded.
Luna scorned him without veering back toward the captain. She hated his needless sycophancy and twisted humor.
No one had bothered her before entering the town hall. No one had been in her way toward it. The mayor was absent and all other officials were out of their hours of work – a nearly sacrosanct schedule no one dared to pass over the allocated hours, Luna came to understand. They all knew the reason for her move. All the habitants of Featherfall could do was to wearily wait for their Princess as she would finally witness the sight of their greatest failure.
They all stood aside, trying to find any way they could distract themselves from her presence. Even the odd Griffon mimicked their Pony compatriots, helping the most confounded away from where she stood.
Luna reached the entrance and readied herself to unlock the door. She paused. She took a look to her left, and then to her right. Teleporting would have been… better. It always made her somewhat dizzy, it was almost nauseating for her. Not even that Twilight girl felt sick when teleporting. No one in the School for Gifted Unicorns did. Celestia had taught her how to hide her nausea. But she could not teach her how to eliminate the building-up vomit that follows.
Luna shook her head; then exhaled. She will stop caring. Eventually, she will.
She unlocked the door, entered, and then locked it with powerful magic wards.
The feather floated in the middle of the hall. The knot in her stomach tightened. Her head felt heavier and her breathing felt more automated, less natural.
She sat next to it, staring blankly at the millennium old feather.
‘It’s not mine.’ She looked away from it, tentatively trying to face it once more. ‘It is not… mine…’ Not my blood… Not my feather… she continued with her thoughts.
She did not want to be there. She wanted to return home. She had let her emotions dictate her actions…
She was making the same mistakes.
‘I want to have a good night,’ someone declared in a frail voice.
‘Excuse me?’
A Changeling, her horn crooked, her eyes shining bright green, her fangs reflecting light, and her height equals to Celestia’s. Luna smiled shyly, barely noticeable even to her.
‘Crysalis,’ said Luna.
‘Chrysalis,’ corrected the Queen, too tired for more.
Luna smiled, gritting her teeth. ‘Please, do not tell me the failure that you are once again planning to meet here – somehow. Redundancy is not good.’
Chrysalis sprung forward, slamming her right claw on the Alicorn’s cheek, the crown sliding to the hall’s edge. Then, in a quick motion, Chrysalis slammed Luna’s head on the floor. The Queen’s eyes shimmered in baleful, built-up magic..
Luna laughed, barely bruised by the Changeling monarch. ‘Rude.’
‘Get up,’ ordered Chrysalis. Luna contented to answer the order, keeping an amused smile.
‘Amuse me, Changeling. What is that you want? Steal my love?’ She was proud of herself for making it sound like a heartfelt insult. ‘You will not be satiated, I am telling you in all honesty.’
Chrysalis withdrew, letting Luna drag herself up.
‘I want to sleep,’ said Chrysalis.
‘Excuse me?’
Chrysalis did not repeat herself, knowing full well Luna had heard her well.
‘Then sleep.’
She hesitated.
‘Sleep,’ ordered Luna. ‘You have the looks of someone lacking a few nights on the counter.’
Nothing. She reached for her neck, trying to grab something that was no longer there, her claw quickly panicking at the void it was met with.
Luna envisaged the cursed Queen readying a spell of some sort. The Princess’s expression softened, taken by sudden sympathy toward the Changeling.
But it was wrong, she thought, she should not let Chrysalis exploit any dent she might unbeknownstly laid apparent. She wasn’t weak.
‘Are you scared of sleeping, Chrysalis?’ said Luna, smiling broadly. ‘Are you really?’
Nothing. She dropped her claw and scowled Luna.
‘You attacked Canterlot. You captured poor Cadance and harmed my sister and Armor, but you, the Queen of All Changelings, is terrified of closing her eyes?’ laughed Luna. ‘Pathetic.’
‘Yes!’ bellowed Chrysalis. ‘It is your fault I have nightmares every night! It is your fault I always tap, tap, tap!’ She stomped the ground three times. ‘I always hear a tick, tick, tick that will never leave me, and it is all your fault! All my life, ever since I first stepped in Equestria as a young girl, I never had a good night! Is it too much to ask for? I always made nightmares and could never sleep. Y-yes,’ she stammered, ‘I am scared of closing my eyes, because of you! My nightmares-’ She grunted in pure anger, and then released something more akin to a roar but mixed with the semblance of a plea. ‘Why did you curse me like this?’
‘I… I did not do a thing…’ Luna wasn’t able to fully grasp what she was witnessing. Chrysalis was terrified of her. The Queen attacked Canterlot… She had done so much harm, and done things that would make any creature question one self… But she was scared of her. Because of something she had no control in.
‘Lies!’ bellowed Chrysalis, causing Luna to recoil. ‘I thought of destroying the feather. It mounted to nothing. It would not burn!’ She was on the verge of crying. ‘Why can’t you First accept-’
‘I do not care.’
‘You don’t care for what? For my condition? And I am the pathetic one here? You are the one throwing insults and curses! I am not the one masquerading as a supposed protector of dreams!’
Merited insults. ‘No. I do not care for what is materially plaguing you. I can help in the soul – that is my remit. I have nothing in this world. You can take the crown if you want. If what you had said is true, Queen Chrysalis, then my services will be provided. For no counter price.’
‘Not even me not attacking your realm?’
‘I am sure a cure-’
‘It is not a curse! We are born this way! We feed on it as you feed on grass!’
‘I do not like grass. Always tasted blend. Anyways – I am sure a more sustainable method can be fashioned to cure your woes. Your people's feeding habits cannot be changed, though, in time, a more… friendly method could be applied, developed. I take no side in the nonsense Celestia partakes in.’
‘By being absent,’ rasped the Changeling in a jagged smile.
Luna frowned. ‘I am not taking words from you, Chrysalis.’
The Queen stayed a distance away from Luna.
‘We tried,’ she nearly cursed under an ever weary voice. ‘We do not want outside help. We stand independent. Not from your people. You, in particular, are simple puppets of your people. History tells it had been otherwise.’
‘I do not let a mob govern me. Better tyranny than mob rule.’
‘We can agree, Princess,’ every each word was saccharine.
****
Celestia paced back and for in her chamber. Luna stood aside, waiting for her sister to calm down. It was late at night, nearly four in the morning. Granted, it was no longer night, more twilight, but semantics are only important to those too free minded for those things.
Luna had earlier sensed her sister’s tumultuous night. She wasn’t sure Celestia had noticed her standing aside, drinking the tea she had ordered for both of them.
The second kettle was empty. Maybe she should try to snap Celestia away from her trance.
‘I got married to Twilight.’
Nothing.
Luna sighed.
‘I will cleanse the world of the degenerates. Starting with those six.’
Nothing.
‘I have a secret child with Shining Armor. Her name is Stupid Ignorance. She is also older than me.’
Luna sighed again. She needed to be more drastic.
‘I am not Luna. I am Nightmare Moon trying to fool you.’
Celestia stopped her ceaseless march.
‘Will you shut up with all your absurdities!’ decried Celestia. She approached Luna; she, in turn, idly smiled at her sister’s reaction. ‘You let her escape! Lest you forget.’
‘She was too fast,’ casually answered Luna.
‘What if she comes b-’
‘Then so be it, Celestia. Then so be it.’
‘Then you will be to blame…’ she wearily affirmed.
‘Then so be it,’ confirmed Luna in a graver voice. ‘If the path for deliverance leads through the halls of the erroneous, then so be it.’
She closed the distance between her and Celestia.
‘Go to sleep. Nothing will happen. I am here.’
Celestia felt her legs calling for rest, and could only nod back.
‘I like it when you are submissive!’ smirked Luna.
‘Shut up,’ she laughed.
****
The Griffon stood beside the Queen’s bed, taking her pulse.
‘How was your sleep? No nightmares?’
‘No…’ breathed Chrysalis.
The Griff nodded and turned away, heading towards the chamber’s dead.
‘Cici… my friend,’ she played with the word. Chrysalis rose her claw to where her rosary had always been, stopping in disappointment at the nothingness it was again met with.
She stopped.
‘Yes?’ she asked.
Chrysalis took note of Coccinelle’s grave tone. ‘Excuse me, but we will need to part once more.’
‘Where my Queen wishes for me to voyage to?’
‘To Canterlot, once more. And keep a close eye on Cadance; when the Crystal Empire will return-’
‘Crystal Empire?’
Chrysalis grabbed her by the ears, much paining the Griffon. ‘An old land which returns is heralded for…’ She twirled with her claw. ‘Soon. I will deliver upon you the details soon enough, but until then, know that a chance still lay. Perhaps…’
Coccinelle nodded, pushing herself away, and putting a claw on her ear to ease the pain. Chrysalis put her own back.
‘Do you remember?’
Chrysalis took her time to answer, preferring to alleviate her spy’s pain. ‘No. but… I recall idiots. A lot of idiots. And your… old self among those idiots.’
Coccinelle accepted it with a light laugh. ‘You like to send me back to my parents. To Lord Inspector.’
‘Their daughter is dead. A revenant is… nice, I guess. And the other is an idiot. Now, rest for a while. You deserve it. The usual?’
Coccinelle grimaced. The usual. It meant staying alone in her room, away from everyone and prevented to interact with anyone; reading or roaming it in endless strides, letting her imagination run ramped. She envisaged many stories and concepts in her lonely times. Many she wrote down in notebooks. Many she kept stored in her mind, too concerned writing them down would ruin their essence.
But, perhaps for the first time, she wanted her parents to be here with her. She was missing earnest interactions. Ever since the death of Alkenex – that idiot – she found it even harder to fill that void. She spoke little with Chrysalis outside work. The thought the Seli she once knew would resurface at some point crumbled to a bare structure, barely something to feel remorse toward. In fact, she wasn’t sure why she ever cared so much for this shit.
But it was her life now. It was her decision. It was her desire; to just follow orders.
‘The Prince of Crows rises where twilight beckons.’
- Changeling quote.
[Couple of years later;]
The Batpony sighed lengthily.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Cadance. ‘Something on your heart?’ She smiled.
‘Why do I bother?’ she mumbled.
‘You’ve volunteered to help me gather crystals. Blame it upon yourself,’ she laughed. ‘If I am the problem, please tell.’
She had hoped Cadance would have not heard her. ‘No, Princess Cadance. You are by far the least of my problems.’ She paused. ‘It just is taking too long.’
‘Ha!’ exclaimed Cadance. ‘My same line of thinking when I was under Canterlot. I think Celestia had told me of that place before. Weird, I had to wait for a Changeling to remind me of it. Not that it is bizarre for a Changeling to do so, mind you.’ She put a hoof on Coccinelle’s shoulder. ‘But it was the least of my expectations.’
‘Hm.’ Coccinelle rolled her eyes and continued mining.
‘Those undergrounds were once used as a sort of temporary prison for wayward Unicorns not capable of controlling their abilities. I could have landed there,’ Cadance moved rocks and broke two geodes in half, then examined the blue and white crystals within, ‘when I was young.’
‘When you were a new Alicorn?’
‘Difficult to control yourself when bestowed with new powers. I knew how to fly, but not that whole magic thing. I almost blew up my room with Celestia in.’ She laughed awkwardly. ‘Good thing you don’t have to worry about either of those aspects.’
‘Lucky, I guess.’
She taped a rock to let it fall. It continued toward an oblivious Cadance until it hit her on the leg.
Coccinelle did not excuse herself.
‘You should be more careful.’
‘The hazards of my work.’
Cadance crooked her head and winced. ‘Indeed. It arrives.’
Coccinelle shrugged.
Cadance ignored her and began to hum a song. It sounded familiar in a way Coccinelle could not pinpoint. It reminded her, perhaps, of school; her math teacher used to sing them songs they liked. She never participated and was ridiculed for her unwillingness to do so. She did not hate nor like these moments, but compared to other lessons, his used to be the most entertaining. Her grades were good, so no hard feelings on the professor’s part.
Cadance changed the song, louder this time.
Cooky used to run away when she would put a song up. She did not get another cat after his death. Chrysalis had offered two kittens, but none had the detachment Cooky had. She eventually came to gift them to Alkanex. And after his demise, she took care of the two. They were left to freely roam the Hive. At some point, she never saw them again.
It was better that way. To have fewer things made her somewhat tied to Chrysalis.
Coccinelle thought of running away from all the stupidity that she made her life be. But she was tracked. Chrysalis knew exactly where she was and the form she inhabited. Desperax tried to run away – he was killed less than a few months after his run.
Chrysalis will never remember. She would always lie and hide the truth. The whole thing could have been a charade from the very start, and Seli – the real one – dead. A falsification of grand amplitude just to take a grab of her. The Queen of old was capable of this.
Chrysalis was turning madder and madder by the year. Her drumming did not abate by the slightest; only accelerating and becoming more frequent. Her orders turned more random and nonsensical. At one point, so desperate was she to be left alone to play with her old camera, she ordered the entire palace be evacuated for an entire day. A day that stretched into five as she forced the returnees out. When she eventually let them back in, they found their Queen sitting on the flour, staring aimlessly at the clouds above. Coccinelle had sat beside her, but to all the mare’s attempts, Chrysalis had remained silent. The air in the palace running foul.
‘Are you ashamed?’ Coccinelle had asked, attempting to make it pass as a jest. ‘Is that realization?’
Chrysalis did not answer. She looked more exhausted than ever before. Her skin bared the sign of recent altercations.
‘What did you take pics of? Can I see?’
‘The camera is broken,’ she whispered, emotionlessly. ‘I broke it.’
Coccinelle did not want to know how – it seemed obvious now.
‘You can get a new one.’
‘I lost my rosary.’ Her expression remained unchanged.
‘You still have the crown.’
‘I hate it,’ she rasped. She got up and yelled as she exited a room desperately needing of cleaning, ‘It is not my emeralds!’
From allegiance to allegiance. From a crown to another. From one that wore it proudly and nobly, to one once good but now hateful creature.
Coccinelle betrayed Equestria and her kind and continued to do so. She knew Chrysalis laid some sort of twisted attachment to her. Something that kept her in check, tethered to a reality that she felt hated her. To prevent further calamity from falling upon Equestria, better let the clock turn.
Maybe she could establish herself anew in that Crystal Empire… She had worked her way to get alone time with Cadance. Her colleagues hated the methods and politicking she took part in for that honor, relocating to the Empire should be simple.
‘Princess…’
‘Yes?’
‘How do you accept that a friend you once held dear, a friend you’ve been looking forward to reunite with for years, turns out to be dead?’
‘That’s a lot in just one question.’
‘It is my question, though.’
Cadance snorted.
Coccinelle laughed softly; the question was a silly one, yes. ‘Is the Crystal Heart truly the heart of the Crystal Empire?’ she asked Cadance.
‘Yes.’
‘Can it truly propagate love to others?’
‘Yes.’
Coccinelle took her breath in. ‘Must have been an experience to rule over a people like yours, no?’
‘Better die than to rule over scum like you.’
A low chime slithered down the mare’s soul, puncturing her ears in a ravenous wave of unrestrained fury.
‘Hein?’
‘Greetings, Creature,’ Lonima hissed.
A jaw lined with serrated teeth replaced Cadance’s beatific expression, and a reptilian tail wrapped Coccinelle’s neck with slashing speed. Predatory, bright, purple eyes glared down at her as long, slashing claws seamlessly cleaved through Coccinelle’s belly. Then Lonima ran the claw up her victim’s flesh like pushing in new snow, tearing through Coccinelle’s clothes. She reached the mare’s heart and grabbed it, held on to it, and clenched it.
In a last motion, in a last act of loyalty, one she knew no one will remember but benefit all O so greatly, Coccinelle bit Lonima, piercing the skin with her fangs, releasing a deadly toxin within the shifting form of the Deranged.
I did good, at the end… She made a shy, blood-covered smile. Fuck you, Luna… she last thought before falling into her final good night.
No scream was heard; only the echo of bone snapping rippled through the empty cavern, followed by the lamenting yelps of a wounded animal.
Only a call followed. A call with only a recipient.
****
Her gaze was lost on the polished, black tiles of the throne room. She expected no one to come that day – she had made sure of it. The tremendous downfall in the aftermath of the Canterlot Disaster had sapped everything out of her. More came out in complaint of her failed endeavor; more came out to admonish her rule, for her to end it and step down. Once loyal subjects rebelled and declared her rule illegitimate outright as the once united army broke into infighting. Some joined back their home hive, others stayed under the service of the Queen, and others still became their own entities. One of the leaders of her armed forces, Flavian, had the audacity to name himself king in Chrysalis’s stead by making his troops believe she had perished in the sorrow of her defeat. In the Battle of the Sardonic Hills, she showed herself to them, but they did not care. They attacked her, and in the subsequent fighting, Chrysalis thought she had heard her being named as a traitor to her kind.
The usurper perished, and with him, all the flames of rebellions as her agents enacted her purges of the higher-ups. And for the past years, the situation had stabilized.
Her fingers twitched in awkward motions. She pressed them on the handle. She knew the effort to be futile, but the act of giving a damn about a thing she could not control was somewhat satisfying. The air caressing her naked neck gave her a pause in the brief satisfaction wrought. Her horn hurt, then. As always, she ignored it, not registering it.
Yesterday, she had enjoyed a small concerto in the garden. Alone. If anything, she recalled the sound of music more keenly than any other. Chrysalis could hum and recite every melody and every song, from every artist she came across or sought. She welcomed all instruments but explicitly prohibited percussions. The sound pained her too much for it to be even slightly appreciable. In the garden, it had been the same melody she used to enjoy listening to in the early years of her reign. It was an old song, a very old song. Ancient even. Perhaps the first ever song recorded on stone or paper in history. It counted as a tale. The tale of a beginning, of when all began. The first recorded epic of history.
It went as so:
In those days,
In those distant days,
In those nights,
In those ancient nights,
In those years,
In those distant years,
In those ancient days when all things had been created,
In ancient times when all things were given their place,
When bread was first tasted in the Land,
When the ovens had been lighted,
When the heavens had been separated from the Earth,
When the Earth had been separated from the heavens,
When Changelings had been established […]
She hummed the song, playing its melody with her fingers. A story retold again and again until, maybe, nothing of the original remained. A clan had made sure to preserve the song through the ages, a group she had prevented from falling into oblivion.
Chrysalis sighed. She closed her eyes, sleep slowly invading her mind. The door opened.
Their past, their heritage as a race had been preserved through her actions. That she knew to have succeeded. But for the future, she lamented her failures. She failed – that was the final statement of her reign. Canterlot was a failure. Diversifying raid sources was a failure, only bringing more animosity. Her experiments were a failure. She had creatures killed for a goal unattainable. She knew already of the “evil” character she was being depicted as, be it within her domain or outside of it – and she did not care. Chrysalis will be remembered in the books as a tyrant, as evil incarnate, and she did not care. It did not matter. There was solace in this thought. Everything will be forgotten eventually, and she won’t escape that inevitability. Thus was her curse, self-inflicted, and thus she accepted it.
‘I should leave,’ she thought aloud.
She wanted to sleep. She could dream of success, but no more. Coccinelle will return one day. She had to remember. She must… She wanted to have that true good night. Maybe that Crystal Empire will be the key. Maybe it will all be in vain… Maybe she could finally have that good night… Maybe she should stop bothering.
‘The Arriver is dead, my Queen,’ a female voice said.
Chrysalis lifted her eyes, expecting the voice to be coming from far away. She had been looking directly at the messenger.
‘Repeated,’ she disinterestedly said, waving away with a snarl at the error of language.
‘The Arriver is dead, my Queen.’
Chrysalis pondered long, endeavoring to comprehend what each word meant.
‘No,’ she whispered between clenched teeth.
‘We have the body, my Lady.’
Chrysalis demanded for it to be brought in front of her.
She wanted to sleep.
The Queen opened the black bag with a solemn expression. It was a corpse – the definition applied perfectly. Though to call the ravaged creature in front of her Coccinelle, was a stretch her mind could not reconcile. The heart was gone, crushed utterly. The neck was twisted, seemingly capable of being distorted in every possible direction.
‘How were you informed?’ asked Chrysalis, disinterestedly.
‘The local Canterlotian force enforcements had received a message of a body found where Princess Cadance had gone – in the crystal mines of the capital. She was not there; Cadance was in Manehattan per Argentax’s report. It was Agacris that told me of the Arriver’s death. And, my Queen, the corpse of Lonima was found too. Dead by poison,’ concluded Captain Nefethor.
‘Her body?’
‘In the crematory.’ It was how her predecessor, Alkanex, had proceeded.
It was only then that Chrysalis took note of the smell of putrefying flesh started to fill the air.
‘When was this reported?’ she almost accused.
Nefethor frowned. ‘As soon as I was told of it, my Queen.’
Chrysalis nodded and walked back to her throne – not sitting upon it.
‘Leave me,’ softly said Chrysalis.
Nefethor obliged.
Things never change. Things revert to an original point at some point.
Chrysalis was used to that statement. Truly, her life was in vain.
‘All is gone,’ she mumbled, staring blankly at Coccinelle’s ruined corps. ‘Alkanex would- hng…’
She tried to focus on other thoughts. But, once again, began her mind to churn. It roiled in a cascade of overlapping imaginings, each she strove to push aside. However, the avalanche could not be ceased. A spike of pain brought down her head, almost crumbling her legs. She closed her eyes and tried to focus. She tried to forget – to ignore – her pain.
This world hates me, she rasped internally.
Her pain eased at it.
Focus! she cried in brief relief.
Chrysalis raised her head and snarled. Her temper flared. ‘Gone because of them!’ she roared, stomping the ground with the force of an elephant. The pupils in her eyes stilled, sharpening like diamonds.
‘No mercy. Equestria will burn. Equestria will fall. The Alicorns will curse the day they put us in that situation. All will burn. The honest and deceitful. The sturdy and weak. The loving and the hating. All will burn in the fires of my wrath. No pity. No remorse. No-’
She paused to take a deep breath and clean her face.
‘No… No! Not like that! The paths have proven untrustworthy. A burden!’ She felt her head being freed from an immense burden. She became more focused, a cold, cold focus, like a sensation that had eluded her until then. ‘The Serpent calls. The Stars call. No other matter. Power is held in those alone. For long have we let things stir. For long have we accepted the status quo. No longer. The Alicorns will finally fall, and I will be their tempest. I will be the end and the death. I will make the Changelings rule echo through eternity! I will be the Changer of Ways!’
[After Starlight, the mighty one, and the dimwit did their thing]
A first day can mean excitement as much as it entails stress. For some, the latter is expressed by the first. Good to keep your senses aware of your surroundings, but needlessly bothersome when confronted with an unforeseen problem. A simple misdirection or error can be fatal for morale in that case. And, when it is the first day at your new job, it is difficult to keep composure and a straight face when confronted by the reality of what you will be tasked with.
‘Hello, my name is Spring… Field.’
No one took notice of her. She was shorter than the rest of the creatures within the agency, but she had hoped for even a modicum of courtesy from them. Supposedly a reputed company thought after by high individuals for their photo shoots.
All she wanted to do at the moment was to shoot them for the insult of ignoring her. She did not come to Canterlot, go through the hurdle of getting a job that would be enough to pay her rent and food, and took her time to find proper attire for her to be ignored by her coworkers.
‘You are the new mare, right?’
Someone finally noticed her standing and frowning in the reception.
She replied with a nod.
‘Welcome to your new work! I am Gold Reach, your coworker.’ He extended his hoof to her.
She took it with clear hesitation.
‘Nice to meet you,’ she smiled. ‘I am Spring Field. I come from Tall Tales.’
‘An honor to have someone from those parts of Equestria being part of the company. I hope you integrate well.’
‘I was ignored,’ she plainly stated.
‘Ah…’ he scratched the back of his head. ‘Yeah, not the friendliest of people – I have to admit,’ he whispered in her ear.
It incensed her beyond reason but managed to contain it.
‘So what that cutie mark means?’ asked Gold Reach. ‘It is a ladybug, no?’
The question irked her. Too personal for her own taste. She hated it beyond anything.
‘Yes. I am very good at that whole photography work. When I was a kid, my m-mother…’ She paused, needing to refocus her thoughts. ‘My mother used to appreciate my detailed pictures…’ she concluded in a dour tone.
‘Excuse me for reawakening some odd memories.’
‘You’ve awakened nothing!’ she decried.
‘Calm down.’ He tapped her back repeatedly but noticed her growing distaste the more he continued. ‘If you want to persist with us here, you will need to be more amicable and more assured. I am patient, but you need to calm down. Okay?’
It was her life now, the realization sat in. At least, until a chance to strike would hold itself in front of her. She had to swallow her pride momentarily, to accept she wasn’t truly queen anymore. She had to act as a mere subject of the Alicorn Sisters. She had to show her enthusiasm for their debased traditions and accept those pseudo-heroes.
“Heroes”. Perhaps so. They are almost reminiscent, she dared think, of those of Changeling history. But compared to those illustrious beings whose deeds helped preserve their civilization, they are simple children gifted with power. Many of them should not even be given power and responsibility. They had been six, once-
Chrysalis stopped herself. It was unneeded hate for the time.
Yet, they managed to keep the situation calm. Her attempts at overthrowing the Alicorns' rule were almost unnoticed by the general populace, like no threat to their lifestyle, like no change to the perennial rule of rejects had ever occurred. Life went on as if nothing happened. Could friendship and those Elements be the cause behind such leniency? Or is it something more nefarious? Something she herself never, even in her more desperate days, acted upon.
The patience of Eternals.
It all came down to this, after all. She could exploit it. To use the collective surety of the ever-enduring reign of Celestia, the collective patience and arrogance it brought for commons and nobles alike, for her own gain.
She just needed to unlock the secret of their creation. To have her own Cadance and Twilight.
The mare’s face contorted into a snarl. Hatred for her own stupidity for a realization long overdue, yet so obvious for one in her position.
I should have groomed an heir.
‘Excuse me.’
The brief snarl turned into an awkward grin.
‘You should also work on that smile,’ he laughed. ‘It will be easier for you later on.’
‘Yes,’ she agreed.
She internally sighed.
A promise – that was all she had made to deter any rebellious sentiment. And all it had taken for it to falter was a mare she never had heard of nor could envisage possessing such prodigious abilities. From whence such a being came forth was simply hard for her to comprehend. But it did not matter. Her throne and the work of a lifetime were lost – yes – but she still held on to her title, and the remnants of the old aristocracy are sure to not take too kindly at some dimwit, foreign-backed commoner playing king with his cur of a brother. She just had to bide her time. Her failed plan was of a grand scale and, if not thwarted by the death of the Arriver, she could have brought down entire civilizations in a single swoop of the claw.
Traitors and reluctant participants were a factor she did not disregard but neglected to fully grasp the cheer resolve they made a show of. In a way, that Starlight and another idiot with her were successful at bringing Chrysalis’s goal to fruition, at the cost of independence. And that, the true Queen of all Changelings, would not countenance upon.
‘Has the agency been tasked with being around foreign officials?’ she asked, taking the coffee he was offering her.
‘Ah! You mean to talk about those Changeling rulers?’ She forced herself to nod. ‘Of course! First place even. Weird how there are some similarities between them and the Sisters, no?’
‘Yes,’ she murmured.
It had not gotten past her notice. Of course, it did not. In fact, that very sight terrified her the most. The similarities were too… flagrant. Too… intentional. Legends told her to be wary of such an occurrence. The echoes of the end of empires and nations rang loudly in her mind. There was no great arbiter at this time, however. No greater power would be able to protect those that could not.
In that moment of reflection, it came to her: she was still Queen. The senior in title, rank, and age of all the rulers she once envisaged treating as equals – old and new.
She was not the queen of a petty kingdom like for the Hippogriffs – and not the client state of a foreign power.
She was not the head of a barbaric band of beasts, boasting of strength when they lack to rise beyond primitive standings.
She was the Lady of Change, the Changer of Ways, the breaker of traditions; that is what she had promised herself to become.
She will be the end and the death of the old world.
But, for now, better drink that coffee and make that wide-eyed moron happy he had helped his new “friend”.
And it was disgusting. At least, she was sure to have a good repository when hunger would overtake her once more.
