Plans Change

Chapters

A Perfect Mask
Close Call
Behind Closed Doors
Troubled Smile
State Secrets
Of Gem-Monsters and Lunch
No More Room For Error
The Royal Gardens

A Perfect Mask

Act 1
Pride

Chapter 1
A Perfect Mask

It was just like when she was small.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And her mind was blank.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Close Call

Chapter 2
Close Call

"Ah, Cadence," Celestia nodded to Chrysalis as she entered, a smile playing on her lips. She set down the quill and parchment she was levitating at her side. "It's good to see you. How are the wedding plans going?"

Chrysalis sighed. "Not too badly, I'm pleased to say. Everything seems to be running smoothly..." She let her words trail off, as she'd practiced that morning in front of the mirror, biting her lower lip just so and tilting her head downwards, just a little. Celestia frowned.

"But something is troubling you?" she asked - no, inferred. Celestia was smart; she wasn't asking whether something was troubling her, but what that something was. Shining Armor wouldn't have picked up on so few hints - Chrysalis was proud that she had learned to gauge how subtle she needed to be with different ponies after having known them all for so little time, but she was also worried. She'd known Celestia would be intelligent, but every time she'd spoken with the rainbow-maned figurehead she'd found that her spies had totally underestimated her. Every second in a room with Celestia was a gamble, but likewise it was a challenge too fascinating - too risky - to ignore.

"Yes," she admitted after a brief pause. She took a deep breath, as if she were worried what Celestia might think about her. "I'm concerned about the dressmakers. They've made so many royal outfits over the years, I know, and I know each one has been wonderful, but I've seen their plans for my dress and it's just so... fancy!" She cringed as she said it, aware of the insult in her words. Celestia smiled wryly. "They won't listen when I try to tell them I'd like something with fewer frills, something understated."

"So you'd like a different dressmakers?" Celestia asked knowingly. Something about her smile made Chrysalis suspicious, but she was sure it wasn't something Cadence would worry about, so she brushed it from her mind. Her own thoughts were unhelpful now. She needed only Cadence's.

"... not just them," she admitted, grimacing. "The reception is being hosted by the ponies who put together the Grand Galloping Gala each year." Again, Celestia's wry smile told her that the ancient princess had already picked up on her worries.

"I'd have thought that you would be thrilled to have such excellent organisers with such an impressive resume organising your reception?" Chrysalis chuckled.

"Come now, Celestia, I can't be the only one who thinks the Grand Galloping Gala is one of the most boring parties Canterlot has ever had the misfortune of hosting?" Celestia cocked her head to one side, her eyebrows raised as if in surprise, the smirk tugging at her lips indicating her agreement.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Celestia replied, a gleam in her eye. "The Grand Galloping Gala is the finest tradition we have and a chance for ponies from all over Equestria to enjoy the most dazzling entertainments Canterlot has to offer." Chrysalis couldn't help but smile at the Princess' slight hint of sarcasm.

"Well, what about the caterers?" she suggested. Now it looked like Celestia's frown was genuine, as she seemed genuinely surprised by this complaint. "We've got the same caterers who cook for the palace every day, Celestia. Their food is delightful, but just for once it might be nice to have something a little different? I want this to be a really memorable day, not just the same things we see and do every other day here in Canterlot." Chrysalis sighed, shrugging her shoulders. "I'm sorry, Celestia, but a Canterlot wedding never really appealed to me. I can see why ponies from outside Canterlot would want one, with all the grandeur and spectacle, but I live here. I know Shining Armor can't leave the city until the threat made against us has been resolved but just because I'm having my wedding in Canterlot-"

"I understand," Celestia interrupted with a smile, "and I think I know how we might solve this little mishap. I'd need to discuss this with my sister and my pupil, but I think I have a team who might be able to get you what you want."

Chrysalis had to contain her initial reaction. The way the Princess reacted, her smug, confident smile throughout their conversation, all suggested that Celestia had known that she - or rather, Cadence - would have a problem with a Canterlot-style wedding. A small part of her was mentally applauding Celestia on playing quite so well; the Princess could have easily just suggested this team from the outset, but by withholding them until a complaint was made she appeared to be quick-thinking and considerate. But most of her reaction was fear - Celestia clearly knew what Cadence really wanted from the wedding and had she not done enough research, had she not ensured that her disguise was as good as it could be down to the smallest detail, she would have been cast under suspicion for behaving very much unlike Cadence. She'd come extremely close to failure without even realising it, and failure was not an option; she needed to question Cadence further, ensuring the accuracy of her portrayal.

It took a great deal of concentration, but Chrysalis forced herself to grin and show nothing of her true thoughts in her expression. "That would be just perfect, Celestia," she said, and Celestia grinned back, allowing her composed and regal mask to slip for a moment. And why shouldn't she? She was in the company of another princess after all. "Thank you so much."

"It's not a problem," Celestia replied. "I thought you might be particularly interested to hear Twilight Sparkle would be on the team. I hear you two have quite the history." It took all of Chrysalis' concentration to make her eyes light up with joy at that statement when she felt nothing but fear and worry. It had been Twilight who had noticed her slip-up in her nightmare; any event that brought an encounter with her closer was one that caused Chrysalis to doubt herself.

"That's one way of putting it," she said, shaking her head slightly. "It's been so long. How is she?" Celestia sighed, which was strange. In passing, Chrysalis had never heard Celestia say anything other than praise for her private student.

"She's been working hard, and is well on her way to becoming an extremely powerful unicorn," Celestia said. "Although I find myself regretting the plans I had made for her, now. When we first started, all those years ago, I hadn't realised quite how attached I would get to her; now the end is near, I find-"

"Wait, what end?" Chrysalis said, frowning. She'd never heard anything like this from Cadence, or her many spies. Celestia took a deep breath and motioned for the two guards to leave the room. When they had done so, she beckoned Chrysalis closer - she did so, warily.

"I made plans for Twilight Sparkle," she said. "Plans that I have only ever shared with my sister, and even then only when she pressured me. I cannot tell you their nature, but I shall tell you this - your friend Twilight is, without realising it, working towards a goal that she could never even dream of. She would no longer be my student and perhaps, in time, it would be she who teaches me about magic."

"But nopony knows more of magic than you," Chrysalis replied.

"Perhaps not yet," Celestia acknowledged. "But I have high hopes for Twilight Sparkle." She leaned back, quiet for a moment, thinking. Something about her seemed sad, but Chrysalis could feel more than just sadness in the Princess' emotions - she was hurting, more than her calm and collected appearance could ever allow her to show, but at the same time she was... proud? Chrysalis wasn't quite sure what it was she tasted, but despite it's bitterness at its heart was the tiniest sliver of love and compassion, and she lapped it up eagerly.

"Besides, that is not for some time yet," Celestia said, interrupting the silence. She nodded to herself. "For now, she is an excellent student who is doing better than I could have possibly hoped. She mentions you a lot, you know?" It wasn't really a question - more an assurance, an acknowledgement. She was being informed, not asked.

"She does?"

"Yes," Celestia replied simply. The Princess of the Sun turned and walked back to the throne, facing away from Chrysalis. "Less now than she did when she was younger, and certainly less since she moved to Ponyville, but she does still ask how you are every few letters."

"Does she know?"

"About the wedding?" Celestia shook her head, sitting down upon the throne. "Unless you or Shining Armor have told her, I doubt it very much. I have been rather too busy with the security threat to tell her myself, I'm afraid. Would you like me to let her know?" Chrysalis thought for a moment. Cadence would want Twilight to know, for sure, but would she want it told to her in a letter from Celestia, or would she want to tell Twilight in person? Celestia had that same wry smile tugging at one corner of her mouth and Chrysalis was no longer sure she wasn't under suspicion.

"I'd rather she found out from us in person," Chrysalis replied with a shrug, "but if that's not possible for security reasons I would be honoured if you would pass on a message for us." Celestia's smile broadened into one of genuine pleasure, it seemed, and Chrysalis desperately tried not to sigh in relief.

"I'll see what I can do," Celestia replied. "Is that all you wanted to ask me about?" Chrysalis was, for the most part, pleased that the conversation was coming to a close without her coming under any suspicion - or at least, under any more suspicion than Celestia already seemed to hold for her, which was presumably just part of the safety measures Celestia had to put in place. She couldn't afford to take any risks when she did not know who her opponents were.

"Yes, Celestia, that is all," Chrysalis bowed her head in acknowledgement and backed out of the throne room, acknowledging the unspoken dismissal. She felt a slight tinge of disappointment as she did so, feeling as if she were missing out on a chance to try her luck with Celestia further.

She shook her head, banishing the thought from her mind. She couldn't afford to take risks, no matter how fun and enjoyable they might be. This was important. She blinked, uncertain where she wanted to go next. What needed to be done? She'd spoken with Celestia about getting new organisers for various parts of the wedding; the rest of the plan for her day had been to try to find alternatives, but it seemed Celestia had already taken care of that. What was she going to do?

With a sudden jolt of realisation, Chrysalis knew exactly what she needed to do. Ducking around a corner into a secluded space, she summoned up her magic, feeling the raw flow of energy in her horn as she prepared the spell, green flames circling around her as she sank into the floor, eyes closed in concentration.

"Ah, Cadence," she said, seeing the bruised pink alicorn before her. "How is imprisonment suiting you?" Chrysalis stepped carefully down the rugged crystal pathway, trying not to let her concentration on her footing distract her from what was, essentially, a performance. She liked to play with those she was going to interrogate, she always had - toying with the emotions of others was, after all, one way to give herself a meal of her choice.

"How do you think?" replied Cadence, her voice bitter but proud. She wasn't going to give in, even in something as simple as giving Chrysalis the satisfaction of seeing her in discomfort. "I'll be honest, I'm not best pleased with the catering." Chrysalis smiled at that; she had always had a soft spot for those who tried to hold their own even in those situations where they had lost everything.

"I'll see what can be done about that," she said, reaching the bottom of the rocks and letting out a small sigh of relief. Now she could concentrate on Cadence. "But that's not the reason I'm down here."

"I gathered," replied Cadence, dryly. She glared at Chrysalis, the bitter taste of resentment and repulsion rolling off her, along with the small feeling of confusion most had when looking at their own doppelganger. "I'm not sure what you wanted, Chrysalis, but I have nothing to give you now." Cadence's voice cracked slightly, her pride trying to hold up despite her admittance of her weakness.

"You'd be surprised," Chrysalis replied. "What if I were to say I merely wanted a friendly chat?"

"I would tell you that this wouldn't be the place to find it," Cadence shrugged, looking away in defiance. Chrysalis couldn't help but let out a snort.

"Oh come on Cadence," she said, exasperated. "I know the isolation of this is driving you mad enough to seek any company you can get."

"You're not company," the princess replied simply. Chrysalis stopped still for a moment, ceasing her circling of Cadence for a while. There was a briefest flash of memory - she had asked Thorax why he wouldn't play with her and he'd said, in that matter-of-fact way that only a six-year-old can really perfect, that they weren't friends. She shook the memory and the accompanying pain from her mind and turned back to look at Cadence. She mustn't be distracted, even when she no longer had to act.

"Oh," she said, her voice sickly sweet, though she couldn't quite shake the bitter feeling of rejection that lay under her words. She needed a lie down; this was not a good day. "And here I was hoping I could tell you about the wedding preparations." Cadence was clearly struggling to contain herself, conflicting emotions running across her face - and there it was, her love for Shining Armor. Chrysalis took a deep breath in, savouring the flavour.

"I'd rather you didn't," Cadence replied, turning away, the flavour ending as her thoughts turned solely to her bitter distaste for her captor and cold, salty determination.

"And your desires are clearly my primary concern," Chrysalis replied, rolling her eyes. "That explains why I'm releasing you and letting you go back to Shining Armor." Chrysalis couldn't help but smile at the small twinge of hope that Cadence couldn't help but feel, despite the clear sarcasm in her tone. She mustn't let Cadence give up hope of release, anyway, else she would never be cooperative at all. "Besides, I thought you'd be pleased to know Twilight Sparkle is coming to Canterlot to help with the wedding organisation."

"Don't you dare hurt her," Cadence said through gritted teeth, spicy, fierce hate radiating from her - and there it was again, that tiny spark of love, different now but still oh so sweet. Chrysalis had to work hard to stop herself from expressing the pleasure she felt from such a delightful meal. "You can take my life, my fiancé, my wedding... but you don't hurt her."

"Why so protective, Princess?" Chrysalis goaded. "Why's Twilight so special to you, anyway?" Cadence bowed her head and closed her eyes, thinking.

"She's like the little sister I never had," Cadence whispered. "She's a good friend. I've watched her grow from a shy, book-loving filly into a sharp, studious and talented mare. I'm as proud of her as I would be of any foal of my own." Chrysalis had closed her eyes now, forced to sit by the sheer, overwhelming power of the emotion flowing off Cadence. This was a love she'd never tasted before, the love of a mother for her foal, and it was so much stronger than anything she could remember. Usually when she fed she could feel her power growing, savour the taste as it rolled across her skin but now the feeling was too strong to do anything more than sit, paralysed, whilst it washed over her, incapable of other thought or reason. "Please," Cadence begged, after a short pause. "I don't care if you take Canterlot, just don't hurt Twilight."

For the most part, there was nothing Chrysalis wanted more than to arrange an accident for Twilight. As a powerful unicorn and one of the keepers of the Elements of Harmony, she was undoubtedly a threat, but she was also one of the ponies Chrysalis was most afraid would see through her disguise. But at Cadence's words, a small part of her was starting to think that maybe Twilight Sparkle should be left alive. What was worse, she had no idea why she thought such a thing.

"She misses you," Chrysalis said, simply. Cadence looked up at that, her eyes wide. "Celestia told me, today. She asks after you quite often in her letters." Cadence smiled at that, and Chrysalis couldn't help but smile too. What was wrong with her? She needed to get out of here - this crazy mare's emotions were starting to get to her. She turned to leave, walking carefully up the crystal formations so she could return to the surface.

"Chrysalis?" Cadence called after her, quietly. She stopped still, tilting and twisting her head to one side to indicate that Cadence should continue. "Thank you. For telling me that." Chrysalis nodded and her horn glowed with green light. For a brief moment she considered not leaving and a strange sensation on indecisiveness overtook her; shaking her head, she dismissed the thoughts and let her magic flow around her, pulling her back to Canterlot and her soft, warm bed.

After a morning like this one, she definitely deserved a nap.

Behind Closed Doors

Chapter 3
Behind Closed Doors

As dusk approached Celestia stood on the porch of the throne room, looking out over Equestria. Despite the pink film that coloured her view she could make out the landmarks of her kingdom: the Everfree Forest, its dark and gloomy canopy covering a great part of her land, broken only by the few rivers that criss-crossed the woods and the large clearing around her old castle; the distant city of Manehattan, its towering buildings and statues just tiny points on the horizon; the Northern border, recognisable even from here by the icy, snow-topped mountains, beyond which Celestia knew the vanished Crystal Empire had once stood proud. But, as always, Celestia found her eyes coming to rest on Ponyville, one of the small, unremarkable towns that lay in the shadow of Canterlot mountain. It was not a nationwide landmark, nor a place that most outside it would consider important, but to Celestia it was the most important town in Equestria, for it was where her student worked and where the bearers of the Elements lived.

She couldn't quite make out the Library, hidden as the tree was between the many nearby buildings. She could see the Town Hall, though, in its own little clearing in the middle of town. If she remembered rightly Twilight would be there now, discussing with the mayor her changes to the plans for next year's Winter Wrap-Up, despite having only finished that year’s Wrap-up a month prior. That was Twilight, alright; her mind a chaotic mess of tangential thoughts, always working on whichever project took her fancy no matter how practical or useful it would be at the time. Celestia fondly remembered when, barely older than a filly, Twilight had spent days working on a heating spell, despite Equestria being in the middle of a heatwave that had lasted two months.

Celestia closed her eyes and remembered, as she often did, the times she had spent tutoring Twilight in magic. It wasn't that she was obsessed, exactly, more that she had a very personal, vested interest in Twilight's progress. That was how she rationalised it, anyway, although Celestia knew that she had always bordered on the obsessive. It didn’t really matter to Celestia, though; she was too lost in thought to care about her own issues. She could see the young filly before her, eyes sweeping around as she drank in the sights and sounds around her, widening as her lips stretched in a blinding grin. She could see the shivers almost drain out of Twilight’s legs, her nervousness vanishing in the onset of joy and wonder. Celestia beckoned the filly forwards with a tilt of her head and Twilight almost ran to her side, staring out of the balcony at the wide plains of Equestria.

Twilight’s excitement on her first day as her student was not, as Celestia had initially thought, something which would fade with time; even now Twilight would still make her smile with almost maternal pride as she faced each new discovery with the same enthusiasm and sense of wonder that had so enraptured her on that day. It took a great deal of thought for Celestia not to see that filly before her every time she watched Twilight make a new discovery, or find a part of magical history she considered particularly intriguing (though where Twilight was concerned, Celestia mused, there were few parts of magical history that were not worthy of her utmost attention).

There was a light tapping of hooves on the terrace, the gentle whisper of a curtain closing behind her. Celestia didn't turn her head; she didn't need to.

"Good evening, sister," she greeted plainly. She heard Luna reach her position by her side; she felt the light touch of a few strands of her star-filled hair blowing into her coat. Luna took a deep breath.

"Good evening," she replied. "Has the day been well?"

"As well as ever," Celestia answered, opening her eyes and smiling at Luna. “Manehattan teachers are still protesting the changes we’ve made to the curriculum; they’re afraid to teach the history of Nightmare Moon at all, though your blessing might help allay their fears. The Royal Guard brought me up to date on the current plans for security; I’ve asked that they take you through it tonight.” Luna sighed and her head dropped slightly; Celestia gave her an affectionate nudge and smile. “Cadence dropped by, too.”

“Wedding preparations?” Luna asked, rolling her eyes at Celestia’s small nod. “For goodness’ sake, Celestia, how hard is it to plan a wedding?”

“When the bride is confined for security reasons to Canterlot but does not want a Canterlot wedding, dear sister, a wedding can be very difficult to plan.” Luna’s eyes widened at this, briefly, before her lips settled into a smirk.

“And here I thought Celestia, the wise and powerful ruler of all the land, was capable of knowing what kind of wedding would best suit one of her own family.” Celestia gave Luna a withering look; since Luna had returned, she had relentlessly teased Celestia about how their subjects had practically deified her. Initially it had worried Celestia, but Luna had soon reassured her that she wasn’t jealous of that; she wanted to remember her own fallibility, she’d said, and could hardly do that with all the ponies of the land worshipping her as an all-powerful deity. Still, Celestia knew that Luna could not be truly happy whilst she remained for some the only Princess and for others the more important of the two sisters.

“My job would have been easier had you agreed to help, Luna.” Turning her head, Luna smirked and stuck her tongue out cheekily at Celestia who grinned in response, both out of genuine fondness and her pride at her sister’s recovery. Luna might want to be left alone to find her own way into society, but Celestia couldn’t help but be impressed by how quickly Luna was readjusting to her place in society; she had watched as her sister visibly became more comfortable in her own skin over the months since her return and simply couldn’t be more proud of her.

Celestia closed her eyes again and stretched out her wings, giving Luna a small retaliatory flick with her wingtip as she did so. Ignoring Luna’s muttering, she focused her mind on the sun, as she did each morning and night, wrapping tendrils of magic around it until she had it securely in her grasp, feeling the gentle resistance from the shield that encased the city. She tugged, pulling the sun down towards the horizon, flapping her wings as it resisted her pull. She rose until she felt the sun resist no more and a gentle downwards push sent it below the horizon. She felt Luna’s magic reaching out behind her as her sister’s wings flapped to pull the moon up; she gently lowered herself and opened her eyes, watching Luna rise into the air, the relaxed smile on her face lit by the deep blue glow around her horn.

Celestia turned her attention from Luna to the sky, watching as the moon rose and feeling Luna’s magic stretch out in tendrils through the void, weaving into a net that became a canvas for her art. She smiled as the first stars began to blink above her, held mesmerised by the constellations that formed above her head. Even before Nightmare Moon, Celestia had always loved Luna’s night - she always felt, perhaps selfishly, that each moonrise was a private show, just for her. Even tinted pink and obscured by Shining’s protection, there was something beautiful about Luna’s night that she had never managed to match during that lonely millennia: when Celestia decorated the night sky, it was a technically good work, but it lacked the artistry with which Luna approached it.

“Do you like it?” Luna asked, quietly, and Celestia realised with a jolt that she’d been so caught up in her reminiscing and her enjoyment of the stars that she’d not noticed Luna finish. She smiled.

“I always do, Luna,” she smiled at Luna’s narrowed eyes, knowing full well that Luna had always wanted detailed feedback. She chuckled a little. “Orion’s brighter.”

“And a little higher than usual,” Luna replied, biting her lip. “I wouldn’t usually move it around but I wanted to try and see if I could draw some attention away from Canterborous. I was considering making Sirius brighter, but-“

“Luna, it’s beautiful,” Celestia interrupted, placing her hoof against Luna’s lips to quieten her before she got panicky, worrying over whether another choice would have been better. “And this is the first time this month that I’ve hardly noticed Canterborous as you formed the night, so it worked.” Celestia removed her hoof and Luna breathed a small sigh of relief.

Celestia stretched out a wing and wrapped it around Luna, pulling her into her side and giving her a small nuzzle, closing her eyes. Luna leant her head against Celestia’s neck, breathing slowly and calmly, and for a while there was nothing but the two of them relaxing in each other’s company.

“Do you need any help with the wedding preparations?” Luna asked softly.

“I could do with your thoughts on an idea I’d had,” Celestia admitted. Luna stood up straight at that and cocked her head to one side. “Cadence basically told me that she was disappointed with everyone I’d chosen for her wedding preparations. What would be your thoughts on replacing them with Twilight and her friends?” Luna frowned and looked down in thought. After a moment one corner of her mouth tugged upwards and, as she thought more and more, her slight smile spread into a wide-eyed grin.

“So not only would Cadence get a wedding such as she desires, but Canterlot would also have the protection of the elements were an attack to coincide with the day Shining Armor’s shield would be at its weakest?” Luna exhaled sharply, a sound that was almost a laugh. “Tia, that’s brilliant, even for you.” Celestia rolled her eyes.

“It’s better than nothing,” she corrected, “but there are still some issues. Where would we keep the elements during the stay? If the elements stay in their current location, they might not be able to reach them on time; if they hold them themselves they could be stolen much more easily. And what if they themselves are defeated before they can use the elements? But then if we give them the elements and send them away from Canterlot we might not be able to get word to them on time and then they-”

Celestia’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. For years she had worn a mask when dealing with her subjects, a mask that required her to at the very least feign unwavering confidence in all her decisions as well as remaining calm and authoritative in all her interactions with adults. Since Luna’s return she finally had somepony she could be herself around and the two of them often found themselves spending an hour at sunrise and sunset just talking, with no pretences and no masks. But Celestia had spent a thousand years with nopony to trust with her worries and doubts about her own decisions, not without having to maintain that mask of calmness where there was none.

Now Celestia found that without her mask every worry came flowing out and her words ran faster and faster, building momentum and her thoughts losing any sense of control and order they might have had, becoming a mass of fear and confusion. When Luna placed her hoof softly against Celestia’s lips, forcing her to stop blurting her worries out, she took a few moments to register what had happened. She blinked.

“Tia,” Luna’s voice was firm but not angry and Celestia’s thoughts calmed slightly at the sound, “all you have said is true. But Canterlot is in danger and any scheme we create to protect it will have its weaknesses. Security is about weighing the danger and taking a risk. So we are going to calmly discuss what might go wrong with each possible positioning of the elements and decide upon the least risky solution, okay?” Celestia nodded. She felt as if Luna’s words were little more than a dam that held back the flood of thoughts and though she felt measurably calmer her mind almost seemed empty in comparison. She inhaled and exhaled slowly, feeling her heart pounding and sending a violent, rapid pulse through her body; she could feel it get weaker and weaker with each breath, calming itself.

“Very well,” she said when she felt she was calm enough to continue. “Should we start with the current situation?” Luna nodded in agreement, smiling softly.

“The elements are here in Canterlot, and those who can wield them are not. Furthermore, only you can open their vault.” Luna bit her lip. “I hope you don’t mind my saying, Tia, but I’m not convinced this is a good plan even in times of peace.”

Celestia processed these words, not quite sure what to make of them. She couldn’t see any problem with the current security arrangements in times of peace: the elements could not possibly be stolen unless somepony as powerful as Discord were to try. Seeing as there was no real security that could protect from Discord and beings of his power, save simply not letting them know where the elements were to keep them searching, this system seemed almost foolproof.

“I don’t quite see why,” Celestia admitted. “After all, nopony could possibly steal them-“

“And if they are needed following your incapacitation due to a surprise attack, what are we supposed to do? Teleport you out and wait for you to recover whilst our enemies use an unprecedented opportunity to attack Equestria while she is unguarded?” Luna scoffed. “At the very least, Twilight Sparkle should be given the power to open that room, too.”

“You suggest Twilight but not yourself?” Celestia questioned, surprised. Luna usually would never hesitate to call her out if she felt she was not being given equal responsibilities. Luna lowered her head in shame.

“I think it wise that I am not given access to the one thing that can stop me if I were to…” Luna trailed off, turning away from Celestia to face out over the balcony. The wind was picking up; her mane and tail, usually a flowing wave, was being blown to one side, strands within it pulling out of their magical curve. The stars within it began to flicker out as single, azure hairs blew across them. Celestia caught sight of her own hair in the corner of her eye doing the same, strands of pink criss-crossing the pastel rainbow.

Pushing the thought from her mind, Celestia walked over to stand by Luna’s side. She gave Luna a gentle nudge to the side with her wing but Luna didn’t react, simply staring out into Equestria. After a moment’s silence, she spoke.

“Look, Tia. Just look at them. There’s an entire country out there, full of ponies who look to us for their safety and protection. We’re not just their leaders; we’re meant to be there to help them, to keep them safe and happy. I forgot that, once, and in my jealousy I could have hurt so many of them.”

“You didn’t-“

“But I could have,” Luna interrupted, turning to look Celestia right in the eyes, her face contorted with anger. Celestia had to work not to recoil in shock, remaining calm for Luna’s sake. “I could have hurt them and, so long as they love you and your day more than me and my night, that makes me a threat. It is my duty to protect Equestria from threats, thus it is my duty to protect Equestria from myself.” What began as anger-fuelled speech, loud and passionate, had dwindled to a quiet, resigned admission.

Celestia wrapped a foreleg around Luna’s shoulders and pulled her sister tight against her. They hadn’t hugged like this since they were children, their wings too small to hug each other with. A wing-hug was more formal and, for sisters who had grown up behind the stoic masks of leadership, the only contact they could have in public. But now they were alone Celestia just needed to hug Luna, to hold her close and to feel her wrapped up safe in her forelegs. She needed Luna to know that she was safe, that she was loved. Luna responded in kind, pulling Celestia closer into her, her breath and body shaking.

“Thank you, Tia,” she whispered after a minute. Celestia gave her an affectionate nudge and untangled herself.

“You’re welcome,” she replied. “You’re right that Twilight Sparkle should have access to the vault; I’ll transfer the ability to open it from me to her on her next visit.” Luna looked up at her and frowned; Celestia smiled. “If my sister isn’t going to have access to that vault, then neither am I. It’s not as if either of us can use the elements now, anyway.”

Luna shook her head rapidly, stopping her grin from spreading too wide and clearing her head. There was business to discuss.

“That is a very sensible plan,” she said, barely controlling her smile. “But I would strongly suggest that, as Canterlot is currently in danger, the elements be given to Twilight and her friends for safekeeping. After all, we cannot afford to have them waste time in an emergency trying to fetch the elements.” Celestia nodded.

“The only issue I can see with that is the possibility of their being stolen,” she replied, “and I think Twilight and her friends are more than capable of looking after the elements, so that could be the less risky approach.”

“Which leaves only one thing to be decided,” Luna added. “Do we bring the six of them to Canterlot for the wedding or do we send the elements to them?” Celestia frowned and began to consider the options, listing in her head their merits and their flaws, but Luna interrupted her thoughts. “Is it even our decision to make?”

“Whose decision would it be?” Celestia replied, confused. Why would they delegate such an important decision for the safety of Equestria?

“Sister,” Luna explained carefully, “I can see no more benefit to choosing one of those options over the other; does that not mean that this is a choice for Twilight Sparkle herself?” Celestia opened her mouth to reply, then stopped and frowned again. She closed her mouth and thought for a moment.

“That’s definitely the best solution,” she replied, slowly, smiling as a warm feeling of pride spread through her chest. She’d missed Luna’s ability to step back from a situation and think outside the box, something she herself found difficult. “I shall write to Twilight at once and ask for a meeting with her, as soon as she can arrive. Is midday suitable for your schedule?”

“Absolutely,” Luna answered, turning with Celestia from the porch and walking back into the throne room. She took her seat on the throne and smiled at Celestia. “Thank you for letting me tag along, sister.”

“You won’t be tagging along, Luna,” Celestia replied, stopping just as she reached the great throne room doors and nodding to the guards as they pulled them open. “You’re as much of a part of this as I am.” Smiling, Celestia turned down the corridor towards her bedroom, leaving Luna grinning like a foal behind her, and began planning an invitation in her head.

Dear Twilight,

I am sure you are as excited as I am for the upcoming wedding in Canterlot...

Troubled Smile

Chapter 4
Troubled Smile

“TWINKLESHINE!”

Her mother’s voice echoed around her observatory, glass instruments ringing as they vibrated on shelves. Twinkleshine clenched her teeth together forcefully and closed her eyes, quill hovering still in a pink aura before her, paused mid-word. Slowly and deliberately, she took a deep breath in.

“GET YOUR FLANK DOWN HERE, YOUNG LADY!”

A rush of exhaled air forced its way through her lips, a sharp, guttural sigh of exasperation. The quill in front of her fell to the desk, discarded, as she swung a leg over the stool she was sitting at.

“What is it now, Mom?” she yelled back, hopping slightly as she extracted herself from the desk. She had been sitting too close to it again - she knew she ought to stop doing that but could hardly help the unconscious urge to pull her chair closer to her work when it got really interesting.

And tonight it had got more than just interesting. There was something new about the stars, a change in their relative motion unlike any she’d seen in her whole life. She’d noticed some small changes in the night sky since Luna had returned (the Princess kept changing the brightness of constellations and individual stars, no doubt trying to heighten their aesthetic appeal) but tonight had been a goldmine of new sightings. It was clear that the Princess had much more power over the night sky than Twinkleshine had previously observed and each change she spotted was falsifying a new part of her prior research.

Twinkleshine wasn't unhappy with the changes, though; she relished them. Every challenge to her models she had faced, until today, had broadened her understanding of the night sky and forced her to solve seemingly impossible conundrums. Tonight every one of her solutions was being proven wrong and Twinkleshine was almost drooling in anticipation of the challenge ahead of her.

Which was why she was more than a little irate that her mother was interrupting her once again. Didn't the mare know that the night only lasted so long, that she only had a dozen precious hours to observe these changes that might never happen again? She knew that her mother was less than enthusiastic about her stargazing, but it was her destiny. Twinkleshine snorted and, not for the first time, vowed that if she ever had kids she would take their talents seriously, even if they were something stupid like ‘opera’ or ‘riding a scooter’.

“The dishes aren’t done,” her mother yelled up the stairs at her, “there’s still a pile of your notes on the dining room table despite the fact I told you to deal with them last night, and the trash still needs to be taken out!”

Twinkleshine almost shook with anger, a shudder working its way through her body.

“Mom, I’m twenty-three!”

“And if you aren’t going to help keep this home then you can leave. Your father and I are working full-time and you just spend your days in bed and your nights in that stupid observatory. Is it so unreasonable of me to ask that certain tasks are done by the time I return from work?”

Twinkleshine struggled to avoid slamming the door to the observatory on her way out, taking deep, controlled breaths. If her mother was threatening her with being kicked out then she ought at least to give her proposition some careful consideration - though, of course, her mother’s condescending attitude to her work was not doing the old mare any favours.

Walking down the spiral staircase from the observatory with slow, deliberate movements that matched the pace of her breathing, Twinkleshine thought back to her observations of the night. She considered, for a moment, the subtle displacement of Orion (just an arcminute out of relative position); she had formulated many models of the stars before tonight, her early ideas of points of light on a sheet slowly evolving into a far more complex understanding of their nature. She’d only recently begun to consider stars as distant suns and moons orbiting other worlds like her own at distances so huge she could barely conceive of them. Experiment after experiment proved her right and even Twilight Sparkle, Princess Celestia’s personal student, had written a paper on the analysis of the orbits by spectroscopy.

But her theory had no predictive power for this change. She’d postulated that the Princesses were able to alter the brightness of the stars by blocking off some of their light by magic, or that they changed some property of the air itself. She’d hypothesised that Princess Luna merely raised the moon and that the stars were beyond her control - she’d once even suggested that the motions of the sun and moon could be entirely independent of the Princess’ magic, although Nightmare Moon’s brief return and the delaying of the sunrise until her defeat had proved her wrong on that one.

Her main problem, of course, was that aside from the Summer Sun celebration nopony ever got to watch the Princesses during sundown and sunrise. She would have loved the opportunity to analyse their magic during the event, but the strict guards watching over each Summer Sun celebration - and she had attended them all, ever since she got her cutie mark - made it clear that any magic usage during the ceremony would result in an arrest. The Princesses never responded to her almost endless requests for an audience to discuss astronomy and cosmology with them, despite her knowing that they took just as much of an interest in stargazing as she did; rarely was there a night this last month that one of the Princesses had not been seen standing on a castle balcony, watching out into the sky through a telescope.

It had taken a lot of experimentation to find a spell that allowed her to see through the pink shield around Canterlot. Shining Armor - another pony in the castle who seemingly did not have time to respond to mail marked “urgent” - had eventually responded when Twinkleshine used her connection to his fiancée to-

“Oh, buck,” Twinkleshine swore, running down the staircase. She barrelled past her mother who was standing at the bottom of the staircase, her expression startled. “Wedding preparations!” she yelled behind her as she ran, “They’re tonight!”

“TWINKLESHINE!”

Chrysalis was sitting in Canterlot’s premier ice cream parlour, prodding the base of her now-empty milkshake glass with her straw, frowning.

“And you’re sure you told her that we were meeting this evening?” she asked the two unicorns opposite her, who each nodded fervently.

“Yes, Cadence,” Lyra replied, “we spoke with her last night again to confirm she had it written in her diary.”

“Though to be fair to her,” Minuette added, “she can’t work until after sundown. She often forgets appointments she’s made in the excitement of a new constellation, or whatever.” Chrysalis let out a groan of exasperation and let her head fall to the table, wrapping her forelegs in front of her to act as a pillow, her horn resting in the gap between her hooves. She found it surprisingly difficult to accept that this behaviour was normal for Cadence in public - sure, she would often express her own frustration like this, but only ever in the privacy of her own chambers.

Of course, she was in the company of ponies who were supposed to be fairly close to Cadence, mares the princess had once foalsat for. She’d always heard that pony royalty were significantly more relaxed around their closer friends than she had ever been allowed to be, but she found herself genuinely surprised by how true those stories turned out to be.

“It’s okay, Cadence,” Lyra said; Chrysalis could hear the barely-stifled giggle in her voice. “She’ll be here soon. She’s never been more than an hour late for anything really important.”

Chrysalis tilted her head upwards, leaning her chin on her hooves.

“How is her work going, anyway?” she asked. Chrysalis knew that Twinkleshine was an astronomer, but if she was honest she didn't really care about the work. She was hoping if she got this conversation over with now, Twinkleshine wouldn't get a chance to start gushing on about stars and constellations and red-shift. The mare’s unparalleled enthusiasm for something so mind-numbingly dull - staring at the sky and making measurements of tiny, tiny angles for hours on end - was almost too much to bear.

“Apparently Twilight Sparkle herself published a paper a few weeks back that gave her latest idea a really strong backing,” Minuette said, biting a lip. Chrysalis made sure to look interested, although that simple courtesy was clearly too much for Lyra who rolled her eyes and sat back in her chair, shaking her head slowly. “I don’t know much about it, to be honest. She gave me a copy of Twilight’s paper to read but I couldn't follow it. Something to do with stars going in little tiny circles in the sky.”

Chrysalis blinked twice and tilted her head to one side. Looking as if she were thinking about the strange claim her friend had made, she sat and thought briefly about Twilight Sparkle. The mare was coming up in conversation far more often lately, and in entirely unrelated circumstances. Her nightmare had given her a certain loathing for Twilight, worried but also intrigued. There was something about her that worried Chrysalis, that made her seem like a threat. Which was, of course, nonsense - Chrysalis knew her plan was practically faultless.

She snapped her head involuntarily to one side, sharply, as the sound of the bell above the door chiming signalled someone had arrived. Twinkleshine stood in the doorframe, panting, her hair disorderly and her eyes wide.

“So… sorry… Cadence…” she managed between deep, wheezing breaths. Chrysalis smiled and waved a hoof in a gesture of dismissal.

“Don’t be,” she said, cheerily, shrugging slightly and sitting up properly. “You’re not that late, anyway.” Lyra snorted at that - Chrysalis sent her a disapproving glare, though she replied with a shrug of innocence.

Twinkleshine pulled up a chair to the table and sat down, using her magic to pour herself a glass of water from the jug. She gulped it down greedily, before levitating a small plastic tube from her saddlebag and taking a few deep breaths through it. Chrysalis watched as Minuette gave her a small smile and Twinkleshine responded in kind, sheepishly, as her breathing slowed and calmed.

“Shall we get to business, then?” Chrysalis asked with a smile, looking around the table: Twinkleshine was glancing over the small menu, but looked up with the look of a student waiting on a teacher to continue; Minuette was smiling widely, her eyes shining with anticipation; and Lyra was, unexpectedly, staring off into space, her hooves tapping out a quiet, exotic rhythm on the floor and table.

“Do we have to talk about the dresses?” Lyra said absently. Minuette glared at her and Chrysalis repressed a mad urge to grin, instead settling for the apologetic grimace she’d decided would be appropriate for broaching this subject.

“Actually, there’s a little problem with the dresses,” she admitted. Lyra smirked as Minuette’s eyes went wide with worry. Twinkleshine frowned, looking at Chrysalis with a studious glare that almost unsettled her.

“Did you not like the royal dressmaker’s designs?” she asked. Chrysalis blinked as her eyebrows shot upward in surprise. Twinkleshine chuckled. “Cadence, I've known you since I was five; do you really think I wouldn't know that the last thing you wanted was a fancy, Canterlot wedding? When you showed me the designs and plans I was shocked you hadn't realised what you were getting.” Chrysalis laughed a little, sheepishly, trying not to panic over how well these ponies knew Cadence. She’d thought meeting with her bridesmaids would be a chance to relax a little after a stressful day.

“Yeah. I guess I got a little caught up in the excitement.”

“It’s okay, Cadence,” Minuette chimed in. “We understand. It’s your wedding, after all, and we know you've been waiting for Shining to ask you for years.”

“And weddings are just so exciting,” Lyra added sarcastically, rolling her eyes. Chrysalis had been confused for the longest time that Cadence had chosen Lyra as a bridesmaid; the mare seemed entirely uninterested in the wedding and deeply sceptical about the enthusiasm the others showed. But now the wedding was approaching, Chrysalis could taste a slight hint of emotion beneath Lyra’s mask of boredom, an excitement and happiness perhaps even greater than Minuette’s. She wondered why Lyra hid it, before dismissing the thought - Lyra clearly had a reputation to uphold.

She decided to smile affectionately at Lyra’s comment, hoping that Cadence had expected this sort of behaviour from her bridesmaids. She didn't think it unlikely.

“Well, I've spoken to Celestia,” Chrysalis said, “and she’s said that she can get in a group of wedding planners she trusts. She thinks they’ll manage to pull off a very ‘non-Canterlot’ wedding.” She watched as the three mares reacted to her news: Minuette was nodding thoughtfully, an almost relieved smile tugging at her lips; Twinkleshine’s eyes were wide, as Chrysalis had noticed they always were after she mentioned Celestia, but there was a hint of salty frustration beneath the wonder she could taste; and Lyra… shrugged it off, which could by now hardly be considered a surprise.

“Do you know who she’s getting?” Minuette asked. Chrysalis shook her head, noting for the first time the slight glimmer of mischief in Minuette’s eyes - and the warm, earthy smugness in her emotions.

“I’m afraid not,” she replied sadly, “but I do hope she gets a response soon. I’d hate to keep you three waiting for measurements.” Predictably, all three mares responded with various levels of reassurance, from Minuette’s enthusiastic insistence that it was no inconvenience at all to Lyra’s soft snort of amusement. Chrysalis raised a hoof to silence them, as a stallion brought over a vanilla and caramel milkshake for Twinkleshine. “I do have a few other things to discuss, however,” she added, adopting a tone of grave seriousness as the waiter was walking away, “and I think they might be of great interest to the three of you.”

She let her statement hang in the air for a moment; she had succeeded in capturing even Lyra’s attention, which was an achievement in its own right, and with one corner of her mouth twitching upwards she held them in silence for a few seconds. Just for a moment, in her mind’s eye, she was on stage again and the mares before her were an audience whose every thought was fixed upon her. She blinked to banish the image - she could not afford the distraction now.

“I wanted to talk about invitations,” she said, her smirk widening into a grin as a collective sigh of relief spread around the table. Levitating some folded sheets of paper from her saddlebag, she couldn't help but smile at Lyra’s attempt to appear disinterested, looking off into the distance but sneaking glances at the floating invitations when she thought she wasn't being watched.

Chrysalis stopped for a moment. Something about her smile felt off and she couldn't quite place it. She was certain that Cadence would smile exactly how she had done in this situation, yet she couldn't shake this feeling that there was something different. Somehow, this was more than just a smile.

“Cadence?”

Twinkleshine's quiet, worried voice snapped her back to reality. She shook her head a little, and realised the invitation templates were still hovering in mid-air by her side, held up by her magic, Lyra no longer even trying to disguise her attempts to read them. She smiled apologetically and floated a stack over to each of her bridesmaids.

“Sorry, I zoned out there,” she said, altering her disguise slightly so that it appeared she was blushing as she bit her lip nervously; it was easier to control such reactions by magic and Chrysalis had decided a long time ago that where she could achieve a wanted effect by magic she would rely on that instead of more natural processes.

Lyra was tearing her way through the stack of papers before her, all pretense of disinterest gone - Minuette was watching her out of the corner of her eye, a slight smirk on her face. Twinkleshine was watching Chrysalis, her head tilted to one side in thought.

“I was hoping you three would have a chance to take a look over these and help me decide which would be best, or whether making any changes to any of them would be good,” she asked, Lyra pausing from her near-obsessive reading just long enough to catch her eye and nodding. “If you have any first thoughts now, we can talk here, but I’d rather meet with you three again later in the week.”

“I think that would be for the best,” Twinkleshine said, looking at her two friends for agreement. With nods from everyone, Twinkleshine rose. “I’m afraid I should probably be off, if that’s all. There are some significant observations I can only make tonight…” She trailed off, fidgeting slightly as she stood by the table. Chrysalis gave her a quick nod and Twinkleshine all but ran from the parlour.

“I should be going myself,” Chrysalis said. “Is midday on Tuesday good for you two?” With nods of agreement secured from Lyra and Minuette, Chrysalis rose and bade her bridesmaids farewell.

The night had grown cold during her time indoors, and Chrysalis shivered as she stepped out into the streets of Canterlot. Away from the others, she allowed herself to frown - nopony would dare stop a Princess in public and ask them what was troubling them, after all. Her smile at Lyra earlier that night kept replaying over and over in her head and Chrysalis couldn't quite work out what was wrong with it. She tried, as she walked, recreating the expression and found that not only was it simple enough to do so, but that it was precisely the smile she expected to have to give in that situation.

Still, something seemed off about all of her recreations. They felt hollow compared to the smile from earlier, as if something vital were missing. She had half a mind to go back and speak with Lyra again to see if it was merely her own imagination that was lacking, but the bitter cold and chilling breeze made her think better of it; she was almost home now, anyway.

That night, long after Shining Armor had begun to snore softly by her side, Chrysalis lay awake, confusion plaguing her mind. She had tried approaching the problem from every angle she could think of, creating even more problems when she tried to work out why she was even thinking about this in the first place. She rolled onto her side, glancing at the bedside clock. It was almost midnight: a whole hour of constant thought had got her nowhere. Clenching her teeth with silent frustration, Chrysalis closed her eyes; tired, frustrated and confused, her thoughts slowly quietened as she succumbed to exhaustion.

State Secrets

Chapter 5
State Secrets

Shining Armor stood in the midst of Canterlot, his eyes closed in concentration as he visualised his shield. He could feel them: murky, indistinct shadows, pushing against it, poking and prying and trying to find a way in. Repelling them was tough work: each time one created any kind of disruption in the magic, Shining had to repair it within moments or the entire shield would collapse. It was a difficult job, and not one he had anticipated actually having to do during this threat. Celestia had been sure that they would find the identity of their enemy before they attacked; the shield was merely a preventative measure until an alternative course of action could be found.

But this attack had come without warning, and Shining found himself the sole pony capable of defending Canterlot from the unknown threat. He could feel cracks forming all around him as he struggled to keep his focus, sealing out the darkness before it could enter. Months of maintaining the shield had taken their toll on his magical stamina and he knew that the complete attention needed to succeed was beyond him. He had to maintain the shield as long as he could; the citizens of Canterlot, the Princesses, Cadance - they were all depending on him.

Attack after attack hit his shield, each draining him of more than just magical energy. He could feel his concentration slipping, more than once catching himself getting distracted by wondering about the nature of their enemies, images of beasts and monsters popping into his head before he remembered the shield and rapidly fixed the cracks. If that were his only problem, he felt he could hold on for a few hours at most, more than long enough to evacuate the city, but each crack repaired was a drain on magical reserves he simply didn’t have anymore.

He knew he was going to fail just moments before he did. He fought it, clenching his teeth and scrunching up his eyes to fight back the tears of exhaustion and failure, but it was no use: his magic almost entirely drained, he could conjure up barely more than a light that just illuminated the cobbled street below him. As the cracks began to widen, Shining opened his eyes.

It was his worst nightmare: the shield he’d conjured shattering into a thousand pink shards, each falling some way before fading to nothing as the magic that held them together dissipated into the night, a blast of heat worked into the spell as a final measure against attackers. The shadows seemed to pause for a moment as it hit them, fading a little and recoiling, but after a moment they surged forward, victorious. Behind them, the bright moon glowed, its light illuminating them just enough for Shining to see their position.

Still unable to make out their shapes, or where one met another, Shining felt the shadows surround him as he fell to his knees in surrender. Magically exhausted, he lay shaking in the middle of their assault, defenceless, failed.

But before their attack hit, a wave of magic washed over him. Too tired to argue, he looked up and saw the shadows thrown violently from him, carried away on a surge of midnight-blue magic. He blinked, shocked, as he turned to face the direction the pulse had come from.

“Captain,” Princess Luna said, nodding briskly. Shining rose and began to bow. “No need, Captain—thou art dreaming, and needst to wake. An emergency meeting of the guard has been called and thy presence is required.”

As Luna began to fade, and the world around him began to slip out of focus, Shining took a moment to realise what he had just heard. He was relieved, of course, that he was only asleep, but he also had the familiar feeling in the back of his head that he was shortly going to be awake. Trying to force that feeling away, desperate to call Luna back to clarify the details of the meeting, he found that trying to stay asleep merely made the world around him disappear all the faster, and the Princess of the Night along with it.

Yawning, Shining Armor rubbed his eyes and glanced at his clock. He had half an hour until the meeting, which was more than enough time to walk to the palace—a glass of water and a small sandwich before he left wouldn’t be too far out of place. He rolled onto his side, smiling as he saw that Cadence had joined him at last, chuckling at the frown on her face as she gently bit her lip in her sleep. He kissed her lightly on her forehead before sliding softly out of the covers so as not to wake her.

With one last glance towards his sleeping fiancee, Shining Armor smiled and left the room, picking up the ceremonial uniform he had to wear to such meetings on his way out in his magic. Wincing, he made his way into the kitchen and set the armour down, eyeing the bread bin for a moment before deciding to open it by hoof.

With the mangled sandwich held in his mouth, Shining pulled on his uniform, hopping on three legs so that he could get to the door faster. He yawned again, clenching his eyes shut in an exaggerated blink, before stopping in front of the door. Lifting up a forehoof, he twisted the doorknob, finding it resisted his turning; he frowned and twisted harder, before realising that he was simply turning the wrong way. His head light with a vague, tired sense of embarrassment, he pulled the door open and winced at the sudden influx of cold air. Yawning once more, he stepped out onto the darkened streets of Canterlot and began to chew.

It was not unusual for emergency meetings of the guard to be called in times of trouble. Shining himself had been called to two such meetings, though both times had been before his promotion. At the first, Princess Celestia had called in the whole guard to inform them that there had been a change in plans for the security at the Summer Sun celebration that day; Shining was not privy to the details, but he had been told that he was no longer required in Ponyville. The second took place a week before Shining was promoted to captain: Princess Luna had ordered the senior members of the guard to run her through the latest changes to the palace security, as she was tired of running into guards and not being sure if they were doing the right job anymore.

Tonight, Shining imagined, would be quite different to both those meetings, and not simply because he was now more important. The first meeting was more an announcement and an emergency reposting of the guard’s schedules than a meeting, whilst the second was catering to royal frustration. Given the current situation, Shining could not imagine that Luna had summoned an emergency meeting simply to explain some new system that had changed in the last millennia at a time like this- he was convinced this was going to involve some sort of progress report on the investigation, and certainly some discussion of the current security.

Wincing, Shining braced himself against a sudden wind, blowing into his face and chilling his head. The dull throb of a headache, caused by weeks of magical exhaustion, crescendoed and forced him to stop for a moment, leaning against a nearby wall to steady himself. He clenched his teeth and focused on his breathing exercises, trying to wait out the wind. He knew that if Luna were to bring up the current security arrangements he would be putting his full support behind the search for an alternative - this spell was killing him.

Once the wind died down, Shining made his way up towards the palace, staggering forward slowly until the bells began to chime out for midnight. Suddenly alert, he began to gallop as the palace came into sight, desperately trying not to be late. As the last chime rang out through the streets, Shining skidded into the entrance hall, panting and out of breath but thoroughly awake.

“Captain?” One of the night guards stationed by the door called to him. He glanced over and caught the stallion’s attention. “Permission to remove my armour, sir?”

“Permission granted,” Shining replied with a nod. The stallion pulled his helmet from his head, the enchantment on the uniform melting away and revealing his true colours, ash grey coat fading into a pastel orange, bat-like wings making way for feathered ones. It was an odd relic of the guard - back in the days before Luna’s banishment, the Princesses decreed that their guard be disguised, not only to provide a psychological advantage against an enemy but also to give the guard a more regimented appearance. The result was row upon row of seemingly identical ponies guarding the Princesses, and crowds of tourists flocking to see them.

“Sir, Princess Luna asked that I escort you to the chambers and catch you up to speed as we walk.”

Shining sighed.

“What’s your name?” he asked, indicating with a nod of the head that they should begin walking. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you around much.”

“Flash Sentry, sir,” the stallion replied. “I’ve only been here a week.”

“So why’re you coming to this meeting?” Shining asked, frowning. “We’re potentially discussing state secrets tonight, and only those few guards most trusted by Princess Luna should be attending.”

“Yes sir,” Flash replied, looking a little embarrassed. “Thing is, sir, I was on duty and overheard the Princesses discussing the security arrangements for the wedding. It wasn’t deliberate”- he almost interrupted himself, flashing Shining an apologetic, almost guilty grimace -”but Celestia had insisted only a few moments before that I move from my normal position by the doors to just at the foot of the throne room steps. I couldn’t help but hear them at that-”

“I understand, Flash,” Shining said. The stallion almost stopped still, though months of training allowed him to keep walking despite his shock. It was Shining’s firm belief that when conversing with the guard he would endeavour to use their names where possible, and that by maintaining a friendly interaction he would promote a feeling of familiarity within the ranks.

“Um, yes,” Flash muttered. “Well, um, I started talking with the Princesses about the security issues. I think that Princess Luna found my suggestions helpful - I can’t think of any other reason I’d be summoned tonight.”

Shining nodded. He could tell Flash seemed fairly anxious - he’d seen the stallion before, in training, and had been impressed by his bravery, so it was honestly a surprise to him. Still, he remembered the first time he’d been called for a meeting with Princess Celestia and, though it had been little more than a discussion of the guard’s reaction to damage Twilight had caused in some experiment of hers, he could remember quite how terrifying it had been. The Princesses had quite a reputation and certainly weren’t ponies you wished to take lightly.

The two stallions walked side-by-side into the conference room to see that the other attendees had all arrived: Commanders Fleetwing and Nova, heads of the Day and Night guard respectively, sat either side of the long table, with Princess Luna at its head. Shining glanced at Flash out of the corner of his eye - the younger stallion was visibly nervous. He fought back the urge to chuckle, but gave Flash a reassuring smile before taking his place at the table beside Fleetwing.

“Princess,” Shining nodded in recognition, bowing a little.

“Captain,” Luna replied, smiling. “We have some good news for you.”

“Before we begin,” Fleetwing said, and Shining caught Nova and Luna exchanging an exasperated look, “I for one would like to know why a relatively new recruit is being let into this meeting. I was assured this would stay between the four of us - and Celestia, of course.”

Flash began to fidget nervously in his seat beside Nova. He was looking at the floor, almost as if he were contemplating whether he would be better off if an earthquake shattered the castle and buried him beneath a pile of rubble than he was at this instant. Shining felt a pang of pity for him, and had to fight back a yawn as his eyes started to close. He shook his head a little and blinked forcibly.

“He is here on my insistence,” Luna said, drawing even Flash’s eyes to her with her confident tone. “I believe he will be making several valuable contributions tonight.”

Fleetwing frowned, but said no more. Nova, however, glanced at the stallion by her side and took on a contemplative expression. Shining, having heard it all before, watched their reactions closely.

“Tonight’s meeting has been called to discuss security during the upcoming wedding,” Luna announced, “and potentially in the period before that. Captain, how much longer do you believe you can keep this shield going?”

Shining thought for a moment, though most of his thinking was forcing himself to stay awake rather than addressing the problem.

“I can’t see this keeping up for longer than a week. Quite probably less,” he added, more as an afterthought. The image of the shield collapsing passed through his head once more and he shivered. “What alternatives do we have?”

“Surely nothing?” Nova asked, her voice quiet. “The spell is too complicated to teach another unicorn quickly enough. Only you, Princess, or Celestia could possibly manage it, and we need you both fully prepared if an attack does come.”

“There is, of course, Celestia’s student,” Fleetwing added gruffly. “She has an incredible talent for picking up new spells-”

“She is also my sister,” Shining interrupted, “and I do not wish to put the burden of protecting Canterlot on her shoulders. She already has enough responsibility for Equestria’s safety.”

“There is another option,” Luna interceded, eyes flitting warningly between the two stallions who were giving each other death glares, “which Flash here suggested to us the other day. Flash, could you outline your idea for everypony here?”

Flash glanced nervously at the ponies around him, before nodding.

“I was looking through the guard’s archives recently,” he began, his voice audibly gaining confidence as he spoke, his audience, whilst not entirely enrapt, respectfully listening and keeping their reactions to themselves, “and I came across a reference to an old spell. There was a lot of magical theory involved that I didn’t really follow-” he flexed his wings a little to emphasise his point, earning him a nod from Fleetwing and an amused smile from Nova and Shining ”-but it was based on Star Swirl the Bearded’s research on an artifact called the Crystal Heart. The spell supposedly created a barrier, much like the one you have in place now, Captain, but instead of being fuelled by a single unicorn it could be sustained by multiple unicorns.”

“It’s an old spell,” Luna added. “One that we used to use a thousand years ago. The spell itself had only ever been performed by Star Swirl: Celestia and I never learned how to cast it, merely providing power to the barrier. If Flash has indeed found the notes, we believe it would be possible for a talented unicorn to learn to cast it.”

Shining took a moment to bask in relief before realising exactly what Celestia was suggesting.

“No,” he said, firmly. Fleetwing and Nova looked at him, incredulously, but Flash bit his lip again, nervously - it seemed Flash had been privy to this part of the plan, too.

“Captain, she is the only unicorn capable of producing the results before you collapse from magical exhaustion,” Luna said firmly. “Twilight Sparkle is also the only unicorn I would trust to attempt this spell - the consequences of getting it even a little wrong could be immensely dangerous. She is the only choice.”

“No she isn’t,” Shining insisted. “Either you or Celestia would be more than capable-”

“The pony who casts the spell is unable to add power to the barrier,” Flash interrupted, quietly. The three senior guards turned to face him, as Luna nodded grimly. “The spell itself only creates an object that focuses the power and binds the magic inside it. The nature of the spell means that whoever casts the spell cannot add power to the barrier - it would only reinforce the storing spell itself.”

“Celestia and I are unwilling to cast the spell unless absolutely necessary,” Luna clarified. “Alicorns have much greater reserves of magical strength, as you all know. The barrier would be much more efficient if all alicorns added to it.” Shining’s eyes grew wide. “Yes, Captain, that includes your wife. She would need to stay in Canterlot to help recharge the barrier, too.”

“Well that settles it,” Fleetwing said. “There is little choice - we should send the notes to Miss Sparkle immediately and see to it that she starts work at once.” Nova and Flash nodded in agreement, and Luna dismissed the three of them with a wave of the hoof. Once they had left, she rose from her seat and walked over to Shining’s side.

“I know you’re worried about them,” she said softly. “Knowing that this solution puts both your fiancée and your sister in danger cannot be easy - but they will both be in no more danger than they would have otherwise been. They may be more actively involved, but either way they’d both be in Canterlot.” She wrapped a wing around Shining and quickly gave him a squeeze. He was still staring at the table in disbelief. “If anything, this shield will be much more powerful than any you could conjure; they would be even safer here with this plan than without.”

“I know,” Shining said, his throat dry. “I was hoping to keep Twilight out of all this.” Luna raised an eyebrow.

“You mean you intended not to invite her to your wedding?” She asked. There was a hint of concern in her voice, but also a small amount of disapproval.

“It’s bad enough that Cadence has to be in Canterlot through this threat. I’m not putting Twilight in harm’s way unnecessarily.”

Luna shook her head. Wordlessly, she caught a quill and a roll of paper in her magic and dragged them over to the table before Shining, setting them down with a thump. Shining frowned and looked up.

“What are these for?” he asked. Luna took a deep, calming breath and closed her eyes for a moment.

“Inviting your sister to your wedding,” Luna replied. “I would suggest doing it tonight. Celestia’s already summoned her to Canterlot to discuss the arrangements for the storage of the Elements of Harmony during this threat and probably mentioned the wedding in her missive. You wouldn’t want her to find out from Celestia, would you?”

Shining’s eyes widened and he picked up the quill, frantically beginning to scrawl a note on the scroll, not even noticing as Luna closed the door behind her on her way out. Writing by the light of his horn, Shining felt his eyes grow heavy, but forced himself to stay focused on the invitation - he certainly didn’t want to upset Twilight by having her find out from Celestia instead of him.

An hour later, Luna peeked into the conference room to check on Shining to see the Captain of the Royal Guard lying with his face flat against the table, snoring. Smiling to herself, she walked in, careful not to make too much noise, and inspected the half-written note Shining had left on the table. She held up the scroll before her, chuckling a little at Shining’s sleep-deprived ramblings, before picking up the quill and scribbling a quick note to let Twilight know that Shining was okay until a knock at the door caused her to jump.

“Who is it?” she called out.

“Me.” She could hear Celestia’s voice through the door, amused. “Can I come in?”

“Of course,” Luna replied, surprised, pulling the door open quietly with her magic. “Be quiet, though - Shining’s asleep.”

Celestia walked slowly over to Luna’s side. “Is he okay?” she asked. Luna nodded.

“Just exhausted,” she replied. “I think the shield is taking more out of him than we thought it would.” She hovered the invitation over to Celestia. “Take a look at this.”

“Are you reading his private post?” Celestia asked, raising an eyebrow, but taking the scroll in her magic so it didn’t fall to the floor.

“Seeing as it’s being sent to your student, it’s technically her post,” Luna countered, “which is not exactly unread by royal eyes, is it?”

“In fairness,” Celestia muttered darkly, her eyes scanning the page before her, “she does receive most of her post from me. Oh dear,” she added, her eyes widening at a particularly incoherent sentence, “he really was exhausted, wasn’t he?”

“Did you send your letter already?” Luna asked, steering the conversation from dangerous waters.

“No,” Celestia replied, picking up the quill and making a few corrections to the letter, “I was planning on sending it in the morning. I’ve just bought some tickets for the noon train for Twilight to catch, and I don’t want to be encouraging my student to be staying up this late regularly. She gets hardly enough sleep as it is.”

Luna chuckled. “You should send that with it. I’m sure Shining won’t mind our additions.” Celestia nodded, rolling up the scroll and carrying it with her as she walked towards the door.

“Come, sister,” she said. “Let us leave Shining to his sleep. There’s some cake in the kitchen - would you like some?” Luna grinned and nodded once, following her sister out of the room. She took one last glance back at the sleeping Captain, shaking her head softly and smiling.

“Goodnight, Captain,” she whispered, closing the door softly behind her.

Of Gem-Monsters and Lunch

Chapter 6
Of Gem-Monsters and Lunch

Twilight Sparkle, despite what many might have said about her, was not the most organised pony in Equestria, though at first glance this wasn’t the easiest truth to spot. Oh, she might have hidden away behind her checklists and her schedules, but Spike knew that these were not a sign of organisation but a symptom of guilt. Twilight’s life was at its heart as spontaneous as a Pinkie Pie Party and nothing made this more abundantly clear than her sleeping pattern.

For example, this morning Twilight rose at the uncelestial hour of five a.m. – not, as one might imagine, because she had plans for the day that required it, but rather because she had the faintest feeling that she might end up making such plans. After all, Twilight’s sleeping pattern was anything but regular: only yesterday she had been woken by Spike at eight, who was worried that she (and, by proxy, he) was going to miss breakfast. Whether or not Twilight woke up early was almost entirely dependent on whether she had found some new piece of research, novel or other obsession to occupy her night and if no such task presented itself to her in the evening then she would undoubtedly go to bed early in the hopes that a new day would come sooner and present her with something to do.

Spike had heard this line of reasoning many times in his short life, and not once had he been convinced that it made even one iota of sense. To his credit, he maintained a similar opinion on all days, regardless of whether Twilight (and again, by proxy, he) slept in or woke him up before he was properly rested. He knew, after all, that each morning that Twilight woke before sunrise she would always try, at the very least, to let him sleep in and he could hardly blame her for accidentally setting off an explosion at six o’clock in the morning.

Okay, he could, but he realised some time ago that criticising Twilight’s research meant no gems for a week and that wasn’t a punishment he was willing to take.

Grumbling as the third shockwave trembled through his bed, Spike pulled his head out from under the pillow and officially gave up on trying to get back to sleep. With a sigh of regret he threw his blanket off and stretched, yawning as he saw the morning sun’s first light peeking through the window. Twilight’s bed was unsurprisingly empty and from what he could hear of the explosions Twilight was probably in the basement.

Spike wandered into the kitchen, checking the shelves and cupboards as he did so for any missing items and making a list of shopping for the day, which he pinned to the fridge with a magnet. Living with Twilight meant certain habits had rubbed off on the young dragon, and list-making was by no means the least of them.

Satisfied that everything was in order, Spike pulled out two bowls and set about making a salad for Twilight’s breakfast – nothing particularly fancy, just a few leaves of lettuce and slices of tomato, since Twilight was probably too busy to care too much about the diversity of her breakfast. He made himself a similar bowl, looking over his shoulder at the door to double-check that Twilight wasn’t coming upstairs before adding three small gemstones (no rubies, unfortunately, but a couple of cheap amethysts and a shard of lapis lazuli would keep the cravings at bay for a few hours, at least) to the top. Leaving his bowl in the fridge, he picked up Twilight’s and wandered down the stairs to the basement, pausing mid-way to hold the bowl steady as the tree shook around him.

“I made breakfast,” he called as he walked into the underground laboratory, before stopping in his tracks and staring at the complex apparatus his adopted sister had built. He wasn’t entirely sure how Twilight had managed to get any of this down here – it certainly wasn’t there last night when he was curled up with a comic and a small bowl of gems while Twilight slept – as most of the parts seemed far too large to fit through the tiny door. Whatever Twilight had built, it was gigantic, filling the room with clear plastic tubes that carried oddly-coloured liquids (was that one glowing?) to and from three different consoles and a vat-like pool. Some of the tubes went through small devices attached to the walls, at least one of which was emitting bright orange flames while another was covered in a thin layer of ice.

Twilight was standing at the very centre of the giant device, tubes flowing around her as she focused her magic on the various levers and buttons on each console. Her mane was lightly singed and great beads of sweat clung to her brow beneath the furiously-pulsating, sparking aura about her horn.

“Morning Spike!” she called cheerily. “Thanks, I’ll be over as soon as it’s safe for me to put this down.” Spike looked up to see a large metal spider floating above Twilight’s head; a container with eight tubes poking out of its midsection at equal intervals. It was held in a field of purple magic and was tilting dangerously this way and that. Spike gulped. “Leave the bowl on that desk, will you?” Twilight added with a smile.

Nodding, Spike edged over to the desk in question and placed Twilight’s breakfast down upon it gently, before sprinting out of the basement as fast as his small legs could carry him. One of the many things he had learned from years living with Twilight was that when an experiment looked as if it might go wrong, the best thing to do was get out of the building as fast as he could – Owlowiscious had clearly already evacuated when the tree first shuddered twenty minutes before, since the ever-present owl was nowhere to be seen.

Bowl of salad retrieved, Spike sat with Twilight in front of Golden Oaks library, a sign attached to the nearby post that read: ‘Closed for Maintenance’. All the doors and windows were flung wide open and billowing clouds of multi-coloured steam poured out of them.

“I was close, Spike,” Twilight moaned between mouthfuls of lettuce. “If I could have held the Spectral Refraction Container up for just a few minutes longer I would have synthesised a rainbow!”

“That’s great and all, Twi,” Spike replied, “but you can’t just go and fill the Library with toxic gas because you think you’ve worked out exactly how to copy the pegasi’s closest-guarded secret. Our house is a state-run service; you can’t just close it down for a day on a whim.”

“But think of the improvements that we could make!” Twilight exclaimed, not noticing the passers-by who were staring at her strangely for her sudden outburst. “Artificial rainbows mean that we would not need to rely on the limited natural sources currently used in rainbow production. Dash tells me that some of her bosses in the weather business are worried that we might not be able to keep producing rainbows at the rate required and they may need to be taken off the weather schedule for a few months.”

“I get that, Twi-”

“And of course some of them started proposing that Dash herself would be roped in as a substitute, since her contrails are rainbow-coloured and she is capable of performing a sonic rainboom,” Twilight continued, her eyes both lit up with excitement and, at the same time, blank, staring into space, “and whilst I admit that would be a solution, it would put so much pressure on Dash – she’d have to fly all over Equestria to deal with multiple weather teams just because someone decided they’d need a rainbow scheduled that day, not to mention that it would keep her constantly travelling and never give her a chance to visit her friends here.”

“Aren’t you overreac-”

“So of course I couldn’t possibly let that happen,” Twilight insisted, “and I started to look into the magical theory behind pegasus contrails. They’re actually a part of pegasi inherent magic, which meant that I wouldn’t be able to directly replicate their effects. But that didn’t mean that I couldn’t try to create a similar effect…”

“Twilight, do you remember when Trixie came to Ponyville?” Spike said, filling his voice with as much command as he could muster (which, being a baby dragon, was not an awful lot). Twilight shuddered for a second, closing her eyes and really looking at Spike. She frowned, and then nodded. “Remember how Dash sprayed water around herself and there was that little rainbow around her? That didn’t look particularly magical, and seems much easier and safer to do that.”

Twilight’s eyes went wide and her lips spread into a grin, just as Spike felt a familiar, uncomfortable sensation in his throat. Burping a small jet of green flame, Spike flung the two scrolls he had received in Twilight’s direction. Surprised and caught off guard, Twilight barely managed to catch the scrolls in her magic before they could hit her in the face; blinking at the parchment held just in front of her nose, eyes slightly crossed, she froze for a second, not quite able to process the information she had.

After a moment, Twilight unravelled the first and larger of the scrolls, eyes devouring the text on it. Spike leaned across the table.

“What is it, Twi?” he asked, grunting as he stretched his small frame.

“It’s strange,” Twilight muttered, “some sort of spell.” Curious, but unable to see the spell formula (not, of course, that he would understand it if he did – Spike left the fancy magic to the unicorns), Spike grabbed the remaining scroll that was still held in Twilight’s magic, tugging it out of the magenta aura with surprisingly little effort. Unravelling the parchment, he cleared his throat.

“My Dear Twilight,” he read, “Your presence is required in Canterlot this afternoon for a meeting of utmost urgency. Included with this missive are train tickets for the journey and a spell formula which I have no doubt you are already studying in earnest. Do not attempt to cast the spell before our meeting, but feel free to see what you can make of the formula. Please do not be late; the fate of Canterlot, and possibly Equestria, may rest upon the outcome of this very meeting.”

Spike looked up. The Princess’ messages were rarely about such important issues, and she was prone to downplaying danger in her letters; whatever the danger was, Spike was sure that this time it was very, very real. Twilight was looking on in shock, the spell formula floating, ignored, in her magic. They sat a moment in silence before Spike picked up where he left off.

“Your brother is keen to meet with you this afternoon, as well, to discuss upcoming family events. I would ask that you stop to check in on him while you’re here – and your parents would appreciate a visit, too.”

Twilight frowned. “Why would she go from discussing matters of national security to suggesting that I visit my family?” she asked, confused. “And why couldn’t Shining just send me a letter of his own?”

Spike shrugged, rereading the letter silently. “I dunno, Twi. Maybe he’s been extremely busy with his duties lately – he would be quite busy if there was a danger this important, wouldn’t he?” Twilight’s eyes widened with surprise.

“Spike, when is our train?” she said, a hint of panic setting into her voice. Spike couldn’t help but notice that her obsession with rainbows seemed entirely forgotten. Pushing the thought from his mind, he picked up the train tickets (two, he noticed – clearly Celestia expected him to join her.)

“Just after lunch,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at the clock tower in town. “We’ve got three hours to wait.”

Twilight nodded, returning her gaze to the scroll she held floating beside her head. She muttered something too quietly for Spike to hear. Knowing better than to distract her from reading sent by the Princess, Spike instead took a moment to think about the letter, before his stomach gave a small grumble. Glancing at Twilight, and deciding that she probably wouldn’t notice if he disappeared for an hour or so, Spike slipped off quietly to Sugarcube Corner.

Something seemed to be missing from the pastry parlour, but Spike couldn’t quite put his claw on what it was. Still, he approached the counter and stood patiently behind Bon-Bon, who was taking forever to decide between the various doughnuts on display. Despite his hunger and general lack of patience, Spike was too distracted to even consider making some kind of remark to get her to hurry up – instead, his thoughts were focused on the danger Celestia had mentioned.

It was not unusual for Spike to panic unnecessarily at unknown dangers (another trait he had picked up over years of living with Twilight), but this time something seemed to be making his fears all the more likely. He was worried and scared and hungry, and though he wasn’t sure what the spell Celestia had sent Twilight had been he did know that Celestia had never seemed to want Twilight to learn a spell with such urgency.

So absorbed in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Bon-Bon buy her box of doughnuts and leave, Spike had to be nudged into placed at the counter by the stallion behind him before he realised it was his turn to order something.

“Something troubling you, dear?” Mrs Cake asked kindly. Spike shook his head, though Mrs Cake was clearly not convinced. “Very well. What can I do you for?”

“I’ll have a strawberry milkshake,” he said, tossing a handful of bits onto the counter, “and could I get a sapphire cupcake?” He pulled a small sapphire out of his backpack and offered it up to Mrs Cake tentatively. The blue mare smiled.

“Of course, dear. I’ll bring them over to your table, shall I?”

Spike nodded and walked a little way away from the counter, looking around the cafe. Despite it being early morning, there seemed to be very few empty tables in sight. Standing on his toes to get a better view, Spike caught sight of three young fillies sitting at a table for four and decided to wander over and say hello.

“-an’ then the two of ‘em start hoof-wrestlin’, right there in the mud!” Scootaloo nearly fell off the chair she was sat on, while Sweetie Belle, who sat next to her, shuddered at Applebloom’s story before looking up.

“Hi Spike,” she said, her voice squeaking like one of Winona’s chew toys. Applebloom turned to face Spike and smiled in greeting; Scootaloo, still laughing, just dropped her head against the table with a loud thud which made Spike wince and several ponies at nearby tables looked around.

“Hey girls,” Spike said. “Do you mind if I join you?” Applebloom glanced at Sweetie Belle before shuffling along the bench she was sitting on, making space for Spike to sit with her. “Thanks.” Spike climbed into the seat, frowning at Scootaloo who was by this point in tears.

“Scoots, my story weren’t nearly that good,” Applebloom said, one eyebrow raised in a perfect look of incredulity. Scootaloo looked up, still barely containing spasms of laughter.

“Hoof-wrestling,” she said after a short pause, before bursting into more laughter. Applebloom and Sweetie exchanged a knowing look before turning to Spike.

“Sorry about this,” Sweetie said. “She’s usually better company. How’re you doing?”

“Oh, the usual,” Spike replied with a sigh. “Twilight’s almost blown up the library and Princess Celestia’s sent her a message asking her to try to learn an impossibly complicated spell before we go to Canterlot this afternoon, so I decided to get out of the way for a little while.” Even Scootaloo was staring at Spike after that.

“You’re going to Canterlot?” Sweetie asked excitedly, the first to break out of her stupor and speak. Her eyes glazed over and Spike swore he could see five-pointed stars swirling in them as she lost herself in the image of the upper-class world Rarity had no doubt painted in her mind.

“How can you be so calm talkin’ ‘bout y’all’s house nearly bein’ destroyed?” Applebloom asked. “If somethin’ were to nearly crash into our house, I wouldn’t be nearly so relaxed.”

“I’d be more worried if a week went by without Twilight nearly destroying the library, if I’m honest,” Spike replied. “‘Cos that’d mean she’s been working on something big. And big things cause more damage.” Scootaloo nodded at that one.

“It’s just like our crusading,” she said. “If we go too long without doing something even a little dangerous, we end up doing something extra dangerous to make up for it and causing more damage than we would have done.” Applebloom nodded thoughtfully as Sweetie Belle snapped out of her reverie.

“Only unlike our crusading,” Sweetie added, “Twilight is a super-powerful unicorn who can do loads of magical damage.” Spike chuckled as Scootaloo and Applebloom made serious-sounding noises of affirmation. The whole conversation reminded Spike of the way the ponies at Twilight’s book club all built points off each other and made each other’s ideas out to be works of genius, or deep, meaningful sayings that in reality meant nothing at all.

“That gives me an idea,” Applebloom chipped in, the three fillies ignoring Spike’s chuckle as they found themselves wrapped up in their conversation. “What if we were to try to help Twilight clean up the damage she makes?”

“Yeah!” Scootaloo agreed fervently. “We clean up our own mess all the time, so we should be really good at this.”

Spike braced himself for the inevitable chorus of ‘Cutie Mark Crusader Damage Control Ponies’ echoes through the parlour, but to his surprise no such shout occurred. Frowning, Spike looked up to see Scootaloo grinning at the door of Sugarcube Corner and Sweetie Belle desperately trying to look anywhere but at the door, her cheeks now tinted a light pink. He turned to face Applebloom, who was having a silent conversation with Scootaloo that consisted mostly of nods, frowns and silent giggles.

“What’s going on?” Spike asked quietly.

“Oh, it’s nothin’,” Applebloom said, a little too loudly, before leaning over to Spike. “Sweetie Belle’s got a crush on the colt who just walked in,” she whispered just loud enough for Spike to hear, her mirth evident in her grin. Spike turned to look but Applebloom put a hand on her shoulder, keeping him still. “Don’t look – she don’t like us ‘drawin’ attention’ to her.”

“It’s not a crush,” Sweetie mumbled quietly. “I just think he’s cute, that’s all.”

“What’s his name?” Spike whispered.

“Not even Sweetie knows,” Applebloom replied, rolling her eyes. “I think it’s all just Sweetie being silly.”

Spike chuckled at that. It struck him just how long it had been since he’d spent time away from Twilight and her friends and quite how much he had craved the company of ponies, as Twilight would say, “his own age.” Of course, Spike was almost as old as Twilight herself, practically an adult in the eyes of the pony community… if he had been a pony. But dragons lived longer, and “matured more slowly” (whatever that meant – Spike could cook and clean, couldn’t he?) and despite his misgivings Spike couldn’t deny he felt he had more in common with the three fillies than he did with Twilight and her friends.

He needed this time, just a little time away from Twilight, but it was so rarely that he felt he could leave her alone. His chores around the library (mostly self-designated) would have kept him busy this morning and it was only thanks to Twilight’s dangerous love of experimentation that he could be here at all, he realised. Perhaps he ought to be a little less harsh on his adopted sister if she ever woke him up with pre-dawn explosions again.

Glancing at the clock, Spike decided that what he really needed was an hour or two in good company before the train left. Twilight wouldn’t miss him, after all, and he needed the chance to socialise.

This spell was without a doubt the most complicated Twilight had ever seen, let alone been asked to attempt by Princess Celestia. The formula sat on the table before her, surrounded by so many scrolls it would be hard to pick it out from among the crowd. Twilight, of course, could spot it instantly – it was the only one that had just the one title.

This was something more, Twilight knew. This wasn’t an everyday spell – there were references throughout the text to ancient history and parts of magical research which had in recent years been abandoned in favour of new models and there was even one part which was explained in a footnote as accessing the aether, which everypony knew had been disproven two-hundred years before.

She had spent the morning cross-referencing the text with her own notes and every book she could find on ancient magic in the library, braving the fumes inside without a second thought simply to get at the next book which might, perhaps, explain how a twelve-fold nexus could be self-referential and somehow self-contained. A good hour was lost to experimentation, trying to recreate smaller-scale parts of the spell, yet no matter what she did she simply couldn’t see what the spell was trying to do – or any way to actually pull it off.

There were just so many things about the spell that didn’t make sense! She’d tried to follow the calculations but every time she did she reached the same answer – and it wasn’t the answer the author said she should be getting. Four times she’d considered that this was a practical joke by Celestia, and three times she’d consulted the calendar to check that it wasn’t April 1st. Twice she’d flagged down Pinkie Pie as she hopped past and asked her if she had forged a letter from Celestia, and on the second time Pinkie had sat down, given the parchment a cursory glance, said something nonsensical about infinite gain and bounced off, singing merrily to herself.

Twilight knew Pinkie Pie about as well, she felt, as anypony could know Pinkie Pie. The mare was entirely unpredictable and her uncanny ability to know things she shouldn’t was downright frightening to Twilight at times. There had been many occasions where Pinkie had known exactly what Twilight wasn’t understanding about a spell and somehow known how to explain the result to her, despite being an Earth Pony with no training in magical theory whatsoever. But this was the same mare who could make canons that fired parties and could somehow convince an entire town to start a party in a library to celebrate the arrival of a mare they’d never met: Twilight was beyond trying to explain Pinkie’s actions.

Still, this time she’d clearly let her hopes run away with her. There was no way Pinkie could understand this spell – it simply defied every known law of magic. Besides, “infinite gain” was nothing more than a theoretical scenario, something to mull over and consider. It couldn’t be done in reality – Celestia and Luna together had tried, Twilight knew, and if they couldn’t do it how could a mere unicorn hope to?

After a few hours had been and passed and Twilight was no further to her goal, she looked up to see Rainbow Dash standing in front of the stand, looking a little bored but at the same time a little interested. She recognised the look as that Rainbow adopted when she didn’t want to be seen to be intrigued by something she felt would ruin her image.

“Heya Egghead,” Rainbow said, “whatcha reading?”

Twilight smiled. “Just some advanced, ancient texts on spell theory in an attempt to understand an impossible spell Celestia sent me,” she said, rolling her eyes as her voice became almost guttural with sarcasm and frustration. “The usual. Yourself?”

“Oh, I was just wondering why the library was closed,” Rainbow said. “I was hoping I could use my day off to re-read some of the early Daring Do books, but…”

“Oh! Sorry,” Twilight said. “We’re just ventilating it. I may have accidentally filled the tree with noxious gas in an attempt to recreate rainbows in laboratory conditions after I read about the shortage of rainbows predicted for the coming years. I’ll go and get it for you – it’s not safe for anypony to be in there right now.”

Rainbow chuckled. “You know, Twilight, you can’t just go and fill a library with toxic gas because you feel like making a rainbow today. It’s kinda a public service.”

“That’s what Spike said-” Twilight replied before freezing still. Her eyes were wide and she was blinking rapidly.

“Twi?” Rainbow asked, the playfulness in her voice fading to worry. “Twilight, you okay?”

“Spike,” Twilight whispered, before cursing and turning on the spot and grabbing Rainbow’s shoulders. “Have you seen Spike this morning?”

“I don’t think I have,” Rainbow replied. Her eyes widened. “Have you lost him?”

“He must have wandered off!” Twilight was breathing heavily, beginning to panic. “Oh, what if he ended up in the Everfree Forest and was attacked by a manticore? Or what if he tries to climb up to Canterlot and falls down a cliff? Or what if he doesn’t look both ways before crossing a road and gets run over by a cart?”

“Twilight!” Rainbow yelled, gripping Twilight’s shoulders firmly. “Spike’s not stupid. He won’t have run off into the Everfree or Canterlot, he’s probably just safe somewhere around town. He’s fine and we’ll find him, okay?”

Twilight simply nodded, not sure she could trust herself to speak. Taking a deep breath, she looked around the streets near the library – no sign of Spike, but that wasn’t a reason to panic. Probably.

“Now if you were Spike and you were bored, where would you go?”

There were a few misses in the search; Twilight suggested that he might have tried to go and see if Rarity, or even Applejack, needed help with their daily chores as she knew that he did not want to feel helpless or useless. Neither Carousel Boutique nor Sweet Apple Acres, however, managed to throw up any leads on Spike’s location.

“I’m afraid I have no idea where poor Spikey-Wikey might be,” Rarity had said. “He certainly hasn’t come here. Perhaps he’s at Applejack’s?”

“Can’t say I’ve seen him,” Applejack had said. “Haven’t seen that little fella on the farm in quite a while. Applebloom’s kept on sayin’ she’s been worried he doesn’t play with any of his friends often.”

Eventually Rainbow suggested (with only the barest hint of defeat in her tone) that they might want to find Pinkie, whose Hide-and-Seek skills were perfectly suited for the purpose of tracking down missing ponies and dragons, though often made it very difficult to find her. Undaunted by this prospect, Rainbow and Twilight headed for Sugarcube Corner, in the hopes that Pinkie might be at work.

By the time they arrived at the parlour there was a queue stretching to just outside the door, the warm, sweet scent of baked goods floating over the line of ponies before them. They couldn’t quite make out who was behind the counter from the angle they were at – Twilight, impatient and jittery, wanted to simply push their way to the front since they weren’t actually intending to buy anything, but Rainbow held firm.

“Let’s just take our time on this one, okay Twi?” Rainbow suggested. “A little time in a line never hurt anypony. Besides, after the morning you’ve had, you deserve a cupcake.” She chuckled slightly, flashing Twilight a grin.

The queue moved forward at the rate that only a queue can, where every second is spent wishing the queue would speed up before you realise, quite suddenly, that you’re already at the front.

“Good morning, dear,” Mrs. Cake said as Twilight and Rainbow approached the counter. “Are you looking for Spike, or after a treat of your own?” Twilight frowned. She was looking for Pinkie Pie, wasn’t she? Why would she be looking for Spike at Sugarcube Corn-

“Hey Twilight!” Twilight turned in the direction of the call, to find her eyes greeted with the sight of her assistant at a table with the three fillies the town had come to affectionately know as the Cutie Mark Crusaders – whenever they weren’t crusading, at any rate.

“Spike!” Twilight cried. “I’ve been looking all over for you!” She rushed over and pulled him into a tight hug, which at first he started to return before desperately trying to pull himself out of. When he had finally extracted himself from Twilight’s choking embrace, he stood up and gave her an incredulous look.

“Twilight, I left a note right in front of you!” he said, as the fillies around him giggled. Twilight couldn’t help but notice Spike’s slightly nervous glance at the trio, and the slightly warmer tone of his cheeks. She would have to have a word with him soon. “Anyway, I was just about to come and find you. Our train leaves in half an hour and I know how long it takes to get you away from your research.”

Twilight took a moment to just stare at her assistant. Why she hadn’t checked for a note left by Spike was beyond her, though was probably related to her tendency to overlook obvious solutions in blind panic. Furthermore, her initial reaction (to tell Spike off for implying that she would get so lost in her research she’d forget about him) was rather moot as she realised that she’d left him for three hours before bothering to check up on him. She settled for scowling, instead – that always did the trick.

“Alright, Spike,” she said, almost growling with the displeasure of giving in, “let’s go catch this train, shall we?”

Spike nodded, and, bidding his friends farewell, hopped down from the stool and wandered over to the door, sapphire cupcake in hand.

“Did you work out what that spell was meant to do, Twilight?” he asked as the door swung closed behind them, blasting one final waft of warm, sugary air over them. Twilight smiled lightly to herself.

“No, Spike,” she said. “But whatever it is, I get the feeling that Princess Celestia is getting pretty desperate. She’s never asked me to do anything this complicated before.”

Spike frowned. “Does this mean something bad’s gonna happen?” he asked, nervously nibbling at the icing on his cake. Twilight stopped in the road and turned to face Spike, picking him up in her magic and placing him on her back, giving him an affectionate nuzzle as she did so.

“Whatever is about to happen, Spike,” she began, “I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

“Do you know what would be great?” Spike asked, eyes focused on the half-eaten cupcake in his hands. “Imagine if everypony was getting so worked up about a giant gem-monster and all we needed to do to stop it was let me eat it.” Twilight couldn’t help but chuckle at the image of Spike slowly devouring a giant, crystalline monster one little bite at a time. Shaking her head, her fears for the future momentarily forgotten, she began walking once more to the train station as Spike dreamed peacefully on her back of gem-monsters and lunch.

No More Room For Error

Chapter 7
No More Room For Error

Breakfast was always a tricky one. Like most changelings, Chrysalis could eat what other species might consider normal food, and actually needed water to survive, but since the food provided no nutritional value she certainly had no inclination to do so. That was one of the more annoying parts of pretending to be a pony for extended periods of time, Chrysalis had learned early on – even if she got everything else just right, she would always have difficulty hiding her distaste for what these pitiful creatures called food.

At other meals she could grin and bear it, enjoying the background emotions that came with the social interaction of a meal, but breakfast was a sluggish affair, especially if Shining had been out to a meeting during the night. The stallion was simply unbearably unsocial when he was tired and Chrysalis found herself working twice as hard to try to coax some small amount of emotion out of him to make the fruits and barley she was forced to ingest at least a little tasteful.

It was almost more than she could take, in honesty. Every second was spent agonisingly reminding herself that she couldn’t just let her disguise drop and terrify him, no matter how much she craved fear in the mornings.

It took him a while to get going, but before long Shining was up and about, pulling on his uniform and preparing for his last week at work before the wedding. Today, he’d said, Twilight was coming to town to speak with the Princesses, and he was hoping to have a chance to meet up with her after his work was done. Chrysalis sent him off with a peck on the muzzle and a softly murmured “love you”.

As soon as he was out of the door, Chrysalis trotted calmly into the living room before throwing herself onto the couch and curling up, exhaling a deep sigh.

Chrysalis liked being alone on missions like these. Any hours she could spend just alone with her thoughts, not Cadence’s, were something to be enjoyed, savoured. She might not be able to change out of the stupid disguise she had to constantly wear, but it was the next best thing and Chrysalis had always been one for looking at what she had, not moaning about what she hadn’t.

It was in hours like these that she didn’t have to think about every word she said, every action she performed. It was like those blessed moments backstage after a lengthy scene, where one could relax for a few short moments and catch one’s breath. But like those moments, one’s mind inevitably turned towards the next scene, or the next performance, and so Chrysalis found herself carefully refining the coming stages of her plan.

The presence of Shining’s sister unnerved her, of course. The unicorn was the source of her fears these days and she simply couldn’t shake the feeling that Twilight would be her downfall. The mare was undoubtedly dangerously smart and, having known Cadence almost as long as Shining, she was one of the ponies Chrysalis feared most. There were only a few ponies she interacted with regularly who knew the old Cadence well enough to potentially see through her disguise if she slipped up even the tiniest bit and of those Twilight was the unknown. She’d had years to study Celestia (there had at one point been a plan to have a changeling take her place – her grandmother’s idea, she believed – and enough research had been done on the Princess’ habits that Chrysalis probably knew her schedule better than she did) and Shining was relatively easy to fool regardless. She’d had some difficulty with Cadence’s own parents and sister, but the three of them kept their distance and, for the most part, left her alone.

Chrysalis hoped that Twilight’s long absence from Canterlot (and less-than-regular interactions with Cadence as she grew up) would make the mare nowhere near as dangerous as she had worried she might be, but she couldn’t possibly know exactly what Twilight knew about Cadence. That scared her more than she was willing to let on.

Still, she hoped she’d be able to avoid Twilight for as long as possible. The key to ensuring that one did not slip up when one was disguised was to avoid being near those who knew the pony whose place you’d taken as much as possible without arousing suspicion – and in this case, wedding preparations provided the perfect excuse for avoiding social interactions. Cadence’s high position in court further isolated her from most of society, so even her closest friends didn’t see her all too often.

The plan, initially simple, was becoming far more complicated than she’d thought each and every day. Where at first she was simply meant to replace Cadence on the wedding day itself, using the sheer emotions of the wedding to fuel her magic in a coup, Thorax had suggested that she impersonated Cadence for a week or so beforehand, “to feed off Shining Armor’s love”. That week became a month, and what was going to be a short undercover mission became a last-minute rush of information gathering.

Despite the rush (and she blamed Thorax entirely for that), she managed to take Cadence’s place three weeks before the wedding. Surprisingly, it turned out that Cadence appeared to be rushing the wedding plans herself, leaving an awful lot of preparation until the last minute, which whilst rather amusing turned out to be more effort than Chrysalis thought it was worth. But Thorax was right: making an anonymous threat against Canterlot to force them to focus their energies on protecting the capital from outside threat was smart, but doing so after a handful of agents had made their way into the city was the icing on the cake. It was laughably simple, watching Shining struggle to maintain the barrier and deal with the investigation of the threat, not knowing that the threat was snuggling up with him each night.

But now, as the plan was being carried out, Chrysalis found herself having some issues with small parts of it. She was particularly worried about dealing with Twilight Sparkle and so started forming in her mind alternative courses of action. Her first thought had been to lure the mare away soon before the wedding and trap her with Cadence, but her nightmare had given her some food for thought. If she played her cards just right, she could have Twilight exactly where she wanted her by convincing the mare that she was not the Cadence she knew; no doubt Twilight would confront the problem head-on, and Shining would take offence at her lies and accusations.

She knew it wasn’t a good plan. It was risky and it could go wrong in so many ways, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a good daydream. So perhaps she would have to put up a show for Twilight when she did arrive in Canterlot, but dreaming about having the mare shunned and hated for being the only one to see through her disguise was a pleasant idea.

It was such a pleasant idea, in fact, that Chrysalis didn’t hear the doorbell the first time.

Snapping out of her daydream, she rose from the couch and trotted quickly to the front door. Nopony was meant to be visiting today, she was very sure of that, and Shining wasn’t due home from work until the middle of the afternoon: it wasn’t even lunchtime yet. Still, when she opened the door, the two stallions in the doorway were quite a surprise to see.

“Sorry to bother you, honey,” Shining said, smiling nervously, “but I thought I’d drop Flash here off on my way to see Twilight.” He nodded towards the orange pegasus who stood shyly behind him. Chrysalis stared incredulously at him.

“And he’s here because…?”

“Oh,” Shining almost jumped. “It must’ve slipped my mind. Flash Sentry is going to be in charge of security at the wedding. Y’know, since I can’t exactly do that myself.”

Chrysalis stepped out of the way, allowing the pegasus in. He stepped in, looking around self-consciously and coughing quietly. She turned back to Shining.

“I better be off,” Shining said, turning to Flash. “Just make sure you cover all the important points about the ceremony, where the guards will be, that kinda thing.” Flash nodded and Shining, flashing a quick grin at Chrysalis, turned and walked down the garden path, shutting the door behind him with a sharp intake of breath.

Chrysalis turned to regard the guardspony beside her. He was young and – dare she say it? – even a little handsome, but he seemed quite shy and uncertain. His emotions seemed all over the place, too, and she barely had enough time to recognise a flavour before it disappeared. There were hints of fear, a sure sign of nerves, and the sharp, sour taste of embarrassment occasionally flicked its way across Chrysalis’ palette. It was certainly a more interesting meal than her breakfast had been.

He couldn’t keep eye contact with her at all, either, desperately glancing around the hallway. She might have mistaken it for taking an interest in his surroundings, but he clearly wasn’t looking at the more interesting furnishings – the trophy cupboard, fireplace and full suit of armour alike all passed under the sweep of his eye without a second glance. Something was undoubtedly off.

“So, Flash…” as she said his name, his eyes snapped to hers for an instant, and there was a flash of excitement and guilt in the air. Her acute ears could hear his heart rate increase. She stretched her wings a little, ruffling a few feathers and drawing his eyes to her – well, Cadence’s – body.

Well, this is going to be interesting.

She began to walk towards the dining room, trusting the young stallion would follow. Turning her head slightly to the right, she called over her shoulder, “Do you want some tea? Coffee? You look exhausted.” There was a small part of her mind that was trying to ring a few alarm bells – this kind of behaviour was going to raise suspicion! – but she found the young stallion’s emotions far too enticing to stop entirely. She decided to compromise: no overt flirting, but keeping him a little on the tips of his hooves nonetheless.

She wandered over to the kettle, listening to Flash settle down at the table behind her as she boiled some water quickly with magic. She pulled down a box of teabags before turning to face the nervous pegasus.

“Coffee, please,” he said, still not quite making eye contact. “No milk or sugar.” She smiled warmly and pulled down a jar of coffee powder as well.

“Sorry we only have instant,” she said. He shrugged, curling himself up on the chair a little, as if he were trying to roll up into a ball and hide. She quickly made both drinks, stirring them as she carried them over, and sat down opposite him. “So, you’re in charge of the wedding’s security? Tough job.”

“It is.” Flash nodded, taking a few sips of coffee and staring at the mug. She could taste the slowly-building confidence and was pretty sure that any time soon he would – ah, there. Eye contact. “I think I can handle it, though. Princess Luna trusts me completely.”

“You’re in the night guard, then?” Flash smiled, nodding. Chrysalis feigned a look of surprise; the information wasn’t particularly difficult to deduce without his little slip-up.

Why was she thinking of conversations as interrogations? This is just a discussion with a guardspony, nothing more, nothing less. Thorax had often told her not to complicate matters unnecessarily and here she was, already doing exactly that.

“Well then,” she said, finishing the long mouthful of tea. A small magical filter over the tip of the cup cooled the liquid so it didn’t scald her mouth and filtered out most of the caffeine. One day, she promised herself, she would try drinking the juice and tea and coffee ponies drank properly, without magic to remove the unnecessary minerals and solutes, but today she just wasn’t ready. “What do I need to know about the arrangements?”

“Guardsponies, both of the night and day guard, will be stationed in and around the room for the ceremony,” Flash said, and something about the look on his face made Chrysalis suspect he was reciting. “Captain Shining Armor is going to attempt to maintain the shield spell throughout the ceremony, although alternative defences are being researched since, as I’m sure you’re aware, maintaining the spell is taking its toll on him.

“Despite this, Princess Luna has personally agreed to oversee the monitoring of the shield during the course of the afternoon, and she will be keeping a close eye on the sky, as it were. Princess Celestia will be providing an enchantment of her own over the whole of the room, ready to use in case of emergency.

“Finally, and perhaps most importantly, we’re making some progress in the hunt for the group who have made threats against Canterlot,” he said. The lengthy monologue had seemingly dealt with the worst of his nerves and he was now making a reasonable amount of eye contact. “Unfortunately we still don’t know quite who it is who has made the threat, but we have been doing what we can to uncover details of the attack regardless.”

Chrysalis’ exterior was as calm as it could be, as she took a careful sip of tea and smiled pleasantly at her guest. She was focusing as much as she could on her deliberate, slow actions to prevent herself from panicking internally. This did not sound good; the guard should not be able to make progress on this investigation.

“How does that work?” she asked, infusing her tone with just a little bit of curiosity. “I mean, if you have no idea who threatened Canterlot, how can you possibly work anything out about the attack?”

“No idea,” Flash said with a shrug, and Chrysalis found herself suppressing a giggle. “It’s the unicorns who’ve been working on that case. They say that they can use their magic to search for traces of suspicious magic in the city.” This was fine – not even Celestia could create a spell to detect changelings, so far as Chrysalis had managed to find. She hid her relief and creased her brow. “They found a few instances of teleportation, a trick very few unicorns can manage, and there was a rather strange “spell form” hidden underneath it. Beats me if I know – do you know any of this jargon?”

Chrysalis smiled; she knew the answer Cadence would give to this. “I was a pegasus before I got this horn,” she flicked her eyes up, and Flash’s eyes followed. She could taste a hint of the same guilt resurfacing as before, which was unexpected. “My understanding of magic is purely functional, not academic. Sorry.” Flash swallowed and nodded, taking another sip from his coffee.

“Well, anyway, that’s pretty much all they’ve found, but that’s given us some serious clues. Whoever is planning the attack, they probably have some agents inside the city. To me – and Commander Nova agrees with me on this – this suggests that they’re trying to catch us unaware. I think they want us focused on the exterior threat as much as possible, so that we don’t look as carefully as we should inside the city.”

Chrysalis made a mental note to trap Thorax in a soundproofed aura next time she saw him, before proceeding to yell obscenities at him for as long as her voice lasted. His plan entirely relied upon the enemy falling for that issue; with extra pressure inside Canterlot, she was going to find it much harder to complete her mission.

Still, it wouldn’t be impossible. After all, she was a perfectly capable actress and, with less than a week until the wedding, all she had to do was make sure not to slip up and get caught. It shouldn’t be too hard – as far as she could tell, nopony suspected her of anything yet, else they probably wouldn’t be sharing this with her at all.

“I take it you’re increasing the guard inside the city, then?” she asked calmly. Flash smiled and Chrysalis had to very carefully avoid making a face at the sudden, unpleasant taste of smugness that overcame the room.

“We’re going to keep the number of guards exactly as they are,” Flash replied with a conspiratorial smirk. “If we were to increase patrols, or react in any way to this news, whoever is planning this attack is going to notice and that’ll give them a chance to respond. We’re just going to keep an eye out for more suspicious magic and see if we can pin down their location, instead.”

Chrysalis raised an eyebrow, impressed. “And are you going to be logging all teleportation as suspicious?”

“As far as we know, only Princess Celestia, Princess Luna and Spell Nexus, the headmaster of the school, can pull that spell off,” Flash replied. “The three of them have been told only to teleport when necessary-”

“I can teleport,” Chrysalis interrupted. Flash stopped, surprised. “But I’ll keep it to a minimum wherever possible.” Flash nodded, frowning. Chrysalis considered for a moment whether that had been the wrong decision, but decided quickly that there was little other choice. She would need to teleport occasionally to speak with Thorax or Cadence, and there simply wasn’t another option at this stage; if Cadence could not, in fact, teleport, nopony would be able to confirm that until after the wedding.

“Strange,” Flash murmured, “nopony has any records of you being able to do that.”

“I started learning a few months back,” Chrysalis replied. “I didn’t want to tell anyone about it until I was comfortable with it, because somepony would ask me to show them and I didn’t want to mess it up in front of everypony. You know how it is.” Flash nodded, seemingly satisfied with her story, and Chrysalis let out a breath she didn’t even know she’d been holding, a silent sigh of relief.

“Of course,” Flash continued, “there is one more matter of safety to discuss – the Elements of Harmony.” The very name of Equestria’s most potent weapon caused the fur on the back of Chrysalis’ neck to stand on end and she suppressed the involuntary shudder that coursed through her body. “We don’t know exactly what the arrangements are yet, but a decision is being made this afternoon on whether to station them here in Canterlot, or have them elsewhere, ready to take back Canterlot if all else goes wrong.”

“Surely,” Chrysalis replied, “it would be better to have them here and ensure that any attack can be countered before any lives are lost?” Of course, that would leave the elements vulnerable in the midst of a swarm of changeling soldiers, but with Flash not knowing the scale of attack Canterlot would face she reasoned that this proposition seemed reasonable.

“Princess Celestia believes that is the case,” Flash replied. “But it is your fiance who is arguing against the idea. Apparently it would require his sister being in Canterlot during the wedding; we’re certain this wedding is going to be the moment Canterlot is at its most vulnerable, and the Captain doesn’t want to take any chances with his family.

“But if they are used,” Flash continued, much to Chrysalis’ surprise, “the guard will be stationed to protect them day and night, with the same level of protection given to yourself, perhaps even the same level of protection Princess Luna herself has. It is the only way the Captain will let Twilight enter Canterlot during this threat – there are currently twelve guards escorting Twilight Sparkle around the city, even today when the risk is relatively low.”

Suddenly Chrysalis was less convinced that having the elements in Canterlot, ready to crush before they could be used against her, would be a smart plan. She was considering instead that keeping the elements out of Canterlot during the vulnerable moments when she would be seizing control may perhaps be better, anyway: it would give her a chance to later face them once she had already secured her position and power.

“Well,” Chrysalis said, “those precautions seem perfectly good to me. Do you, by any chance, know exactly where guards will be posted during the ceremony? I would quite like to know exactly where they’ll be, for my own peace of mind.”

Flash pulled a scroll out of the loose space in his saddle used as a pocket by most guards. He stood up, pushing the empty mug slightly towards the middle of the table. “There you are,” he said politely. “I should probably be going…”

Chrysalis let her face slide into an expression of disappointment. Now that this stallion had served his practical use, she figured she might as well have some fun with him: after all, a small snack couldn’t hurt anyone. “Are you sure you couldn’t stay a little while? Shining’s out all day lately – you know better than anypony, I expect, how many meetings that stallion has – and it just gets a bit lonely around here.” She tried not to let her voice get too flirtatious; she couldn’t afford to let her cover slip, and that would certainly seem a little suspicious this close to her – Cadence’s – wedding day. Still, despite her best efforts to make the phrase sound bored and casual, she couldn’t quite stop a hint of playfulness making its way into her tone. She hoped it was small enough that Flash might think it was his mind playing tricks on him.

Flash once again seemed to lose the ability to make eye contact, and where he had become so confident and assured he was now reduced to his earlier, nervous self. “I, uhm, don’t think I should,” he said, lamely, and Chrysalis could taste the excitement and guilt and disappointment rolling off him in waves, one after the other in a delicious cycle. “Guards’ duties and all that.”

“Night guards have to work through the day?” Chrysalis asked. It wasn’t something many ponies knew, but she and her spies had spotted them in their investigations. “That seems so unfair.”

“N-not often,” Flash replied, staring at the floor. “The occasional extra duty, once a fortnight. Just to bolster numbers.”

“Such a shame,” Chrysalis replied, opening the dining room door with her magic. She followed Flash into the hall, opening the front door for him. “Well, if you’re ever off-duty and want a chat, feel free to stop by, Mr. Sentry,” she said with a genuine smile: Flash was fun to tease.

The stallion nodded and, a hint of a blush on his cheeks, made his way down the garden path before spreading his wings and kicking off from the ground. Chrysalis watched him fly away for a moment, before closing the door and trotting back to the couch, throwing herself onto it and curling up once more.

This security arrangement was going to need a lot of thought.

The Royal Gardens

Chapter 8
The Royal Gardens

There were, all things considered, much better plans than this.

For a start, it involved teleporting within Canterlot mere hours after being informed of the guard’s suspicions of such magic and it didn’t take a genius to realise that that was stupid. It also involved hiding in the dense undergrowth at the heart of the Royal gardens, which would have been plausible were she the only one there but with Thorax joining her there was the minor issue of trespassing in one of the most heavily-guarded locations in all of Equestria – aside from the living quarters of the Princesses, of course. To make matters worse, the plan was centred around meeting with Thorax, an idea Chrysalis detested.

Still, it had to be done. It was a necessary stupidity, much like Thorax himself.

Chrysalis lay on the ground, curled up inside a dense thicket of some exotic plant Celestia had brought back many centuries before. Hiding among sticks, leaves and dirt she waited, cursing beneath her breath as she shivered. The sun’s rays could not pierce the canopy above her; the chill of the cold air stung at her coat.

Why Thorax could never show up on time when it was important was beyond her, but why he would always show up five minutes early for insignificant meetings simply exaggerated the absurdity of it all. She had entertained the possibility that he was spiting her but was forced to reconsider when, despite knowing the threat of demotion hung over his head, he was not deterred in the slightest. Now she simply believed the General was either the source of all her bad luck or an exceptionally poor judge of priorities.

Sure enough, as the bells in the distance chimed a quarter past the hour, a rustling in the bushes let Chrysalis know that her wait had almost ended. She pushed her head through the leaves, turning to face the noise – quietly, in case it was somepony other than Thorax – and gaped at the sight she saw.

“What in Equestria happened to you?” she asked, her voice threatening to give out under the pressure of mirth as she emerged from the bushes. Thorax frowned.

“Some of us have to put some effort into maintaining our disguises.” He picked at the twigs stuck between his chitin with his magic; Chrysalis reached out hers to assist. For a moment the two stood in near-silence, carefully removing what dirt and splinters they could. “Why are you still wearing yours, anyway?”

“Hmm?” Chrysalis replied, losing her grip on the thorn she had been holding. It twisted slightly: Thorax winced. “Sorry,” she muttered, before carefully removing the thorn and healing the wound beneath. “What did you ask?”

“Your disguise,” Thorax stated bluntly, his voice calm and controlled but spoken through his teeth. “Why are you still in it? If they were to find Princess Mi Amore Cadenza talking with a changeling at times like these…”

“In all honesty, Thorax, I had half-expected you to still be in yours.” Chrysalis sighed, seating herself once more on the dry, dusty earth. “Besides, while I was waiting a guard would be much less suspicious were they to find a Princess than a Changeling.”

Thorax gave her a look of mocking despair. “You know full well that we’re trying to ensure none of our agents know each other on sight around Canterlot,” Thorax replied. “And whilst everyone knows your disguise, I would rather nobody knew mine.”

Chrysalis shrugged, shaking as she let her disguise fall away in a flash of green. A small flower she had sat upon suddenly found itself un-touched and sprang upwards; Thorax laughed at the sight of the buttercup protruding through one of the many holes in Chrysalis’ forelegs. She gave him a flat look of displeasure and the soldier quietened.

“Relax, Chrysalis,” he said. “I cast a sound-proof charm on this thicket. We’re not going to be heard.”

“I expected no less,” Chrysalis lied. “I was merely protesting your childish behaviour.” She lifted her leg, taking care not to damage the fragile plant, and set it back down nearby. “Besides, I still think the complete anonymity of my own soldiers, even to me, is unnecessary and potentially damaging to the mission.”

“And I say that if we don’t know who we are, we can’t give each other away.” Thorax paced the small clearing by their side, his brow furrowed in thought. “All of us knowing who you are disguised as is dangerous enough. We can’t afford for them to know that we’re already inside Canterlot.”

“You do realise they already suspect that?” Thorax stopped in his tracks, turning to look at Chrysalis with alarm. She kept herself from smirking, the words ‘I told you so’ dying on her tongue. “I spoke with one of the guard today with regards to the wedding preparations. They already suspect we’re using the threat as a diversion and are reasonably convinced that we’re already inside.”

Thorax stood in silence for a few moments.

“They haven’t lowered the shield, though,” he said, slowly, a grin spreading across his muzzle, “which means they can’t be completely sure. Which means they are still reasonably distracted by the possibility of exterior threat.” Chrysalis inclined her head.

“True,” she admitted. “But I cannot stress how dangerous a position this puts us in. They are ready and willing to find infiltrators in the city. I truly believe the safest thing would be to get as many of our soldiers out of Canterlot as we can: the fewer of us there are, the less likely we are to be caught.”

Thorax nodded thoughtfully, his lips pulled to one side in a mangled grimace of concentration.

“That sounds sensible,” he conceded. “I’ll give some thought as to who is most needed and dismiss everyone who is just here for observation. Is that all?”

Chrysalis shook her head.

“I don’t think so,” she said. “There’s quite a bit more we need to discuss. I assume you are aware of the existence of the Elements of Harmony?” Thorax nodded, closing his eyes. “I will most likely be seeing Twilight Sparkle this afternoon; I would not be surprised if she asked my opinion on the matter. Tell me, General – do you think that we should have the Elements stationed here in Canterlot, where we can swiftly react to prevent their use, or have them left outside Canterlot where they cannot be used in immediate reaction?”

“I would rather not have to worry about defending from a future attack,” Thorax replied sternly. “I would prefer to have our soldiers incapacitate the bearers before they get a chance to use the Elements. It is by far the option with the least risk.”

“Perhaps,” Chrysalis replied, “but would not ensuring an easier victory here in Canterlot be worth the risk that they might be used against us? And besides, if we are successful here and the Bearers unaware of our coup we should have nothing to fear. Nopony outside Canterlot will know of our success.”

“As refreshing as your optimism is,” Thorax replied dryly, “to assume that we will succeed in containing any information of our takeover is to plan without precaution for failure. It is that exact kind of arrogance that has lead to many defeats in the past; we should learn from our ancestors’ failures and prepare regardless.”

Chrysalis opened her mouth to reply, closing it again a moment later. Frowning, she spent a moment thinking about what Thorax had said. It was not in her nature to entertain the prospect that Thorax’s opinion was ever likely to be wise, but she could not fail to see the sense in the General’s words. And though she did not like the idea, she had to admit that Thorax’s knowledge of tactics and warfare–

“What’s the matter, Chrysalis?” the young soldier had taunted. “Don’t you want the attention?” Around her, the gang of soldiers chuckled, albeit nervously. None of them quite had the courage of their ringleader.

“Why are you doing this?” she had asked.

“Because you’re going to be Queen,” Thorax had replied, simply. “My father says that the last few Queens have been too weak, that we have gotten ourselves nowhere with all this endless diplomacy. I thought we would teach you how a Queen should behave… the hard way.”

Chrysalis shook her head violently, shaking away the memory. Thorax looked at her, questioningly.

“Chrysalis, are you alright?” he asked, walking closer to her and sitting down by her side. “You were staring into space for a whole minute.”

She smiled at that. At the very least Thorax had changed, though whether the change came more from a psychological compulsion to care for and obey his Queen than his own emotional maturity she would never know.

“I’m fine,” she said, giving him a playful nudge when he raised his eyebrows in response. “Really. And I agree with you: to assume our success is foolish, no matter how secure our plans. If anything, my conversation with the guard this morning should have taught me that.”

“It’s something you should have been taught years ago,” Thorax replied, the seriousness of his words in stark contrast with the gentleness of his tone. Chrysalis’ mind flashed up images of lessons he had tried to teach her in the past – she blinked them away, furious. There were more important matters than her childhood failings. “How did the guard come to suspect that we were inside Canterlot, anyway?”

“From what I can tell,” Chrysalis replied, a guilty grimace tugging at her lips, “it was probably my fault.” Thorax gave her a flat stare, his mouth hanging open. She responded quickly, before she could be reprimanded again. “I’ve managed to divert some attention away from it, though. The unicorns in the academy had apparently picked up some of the magic left over from my teleportations to visit Cadence, and none of the ponies registered with that ability had admitted to teleporting at that time. I convinced them that Cadence had been practicing teleportation in secret, so as not to avoid being caught out in public – they seemed pleased with that answer.”

Thorax sat still for a moment, a thoughtful look on his face. After a moment he let out a breath neither of them had realised he was holding.

“Did you arrive here by foot or teleportation?” he asked, the worry in his voice evident. Chrysalis’ eyes widened.

“I had a cover story arranged, if they looked into it,” she replied, anxious to ensure that Thorax did not consider her irresponsible. “And I was going to go out of my way when I returned to speak with the guard to inform them that I had been practicing…”

Thorax placed his hoof over her lips, silencing her.

“That’s fine,” he replied, closing his eyes for a little longer than it took to blink and sighing. “Just try to remember to walk here in future. I assure you none of them will consider it strange in the slightest.”

“How did you get in, anyway?” Chrysalis asked. Thorax smirked at that, seeming to enjoy the knowledge he held that she did not.

“Secrets of the trade,” he replied with a wink. Chrysalis snorted, unamused by his antics. “Besides, it might give away who I’m disguised as, and I couldn’t compromise our security.”

Chrysalis lay her forehead against the earth in exasperation and sighed. Her breath caught in her throat and the sound came out almost like a sob.

“Fine,” she said, still pressing her head into the ground, “but for the love of the hive, be careful. I can’t imagine anypony getting in here easily; these are the Sisters’ private gardens, after all. They’re very heavily guarded.”

Thorax rolled his eyes, as if to scoff at the very idea of his getting caught. Chrysalis raised her head and narrowed her eyes at him in warning. “I’m serious,” she added. “You can go on at me all you like about my jeopardising the mission, but if I can’t hold you to the same high standards you hold me there’s no point in us even doing this.”

“I know,” Thorax replied, placatingly but with a hint of bitterness in his tone. He sounded almost like a petulant teenager whose parents kept explaining concepts they had grasped years beforehand: impatient and tired. “I’m taking all the relevant precautions. I even chose my disguise for the sole purpose of getting in here to meet with you. Why do you think it is only ever the two of us who meet?”

“I’d always thought it was because we were minimising contact to reduce the risk of discovery.” Chrysalis spoke dryly. Thorax chuckled.

“That too, I suppose,” he admitted. “Though in fairness you’re the only one who has to minimise contact – you’re the one in the spotlight, after all.”

After school had finished, Thorax and his gang of soldiers had found her on the walkways of the hive. They had surrounded her in a pincer movement, one half from either direction, shepherding her into the only safe space remaining – the little alcove in the wall that some drones had been building that day, the very start of a new connecting tunnel. There was no way out.

“Good evening, Chrysalis,” Thorax had said, walking forward. “I do hope we’re not in your way. That would be terribly inconvenient.”

“You are, actually,” she said, her voice sounding much braver than she felt. Thorax scoffed and her voice faltered. “Let me through?” It wasn’t meant to be a question, but she couldn’t quite make it sound commanding enough not to be.

“But surely as our future Queen you’ve learned to use those wings of yours by now?” Thorax replied. The soldiers around him laughed, knowing how poorly she had performed in that day’s first flying lesson compared to the rest of the class. Chrysalis felt a sting in the back of her throat, almost as if she had swallowed a sharp twig.

“Let me through,” she repeated – quieter this time but with more force behind her words. A few of the soldiers in the crowd took a step back, before Thorax shot the group a look and the stepped back into place. He turned to her, shaking his head.

“Afraid I can’t do that, Chrysalis,” he said, his voice mocking her with insincere sadness. “We need to know that you’re good enough to lead us.”

“Chrysalis?” Blinking, Chrysalis looked up into Thorax’s eyes. “Are you feeling alright?”

Chrysalis frowned. She was not usually one to get lost in thoughts so easily, especially not memories she had spent so many years trying to forget. She took a slow, measured breath.

“I’m fine, Thorax,” she said at last. “I’m just a little stressed, I think.”

“Well, let’s just hope that you can keep up this disguise for another week,” Thorax smiled. “We wouldn’t want the plan falling to pieces at the last minute.”

“I am perfectly in control of myself,” she snapped, before closing her eyes for a second and taking another breath. “I mean, I’m sure it will go well. Was there anything else we needed to discuss?”

Thorax paced again across the clearing, turning his back to her. He stood for a moment or two in silence; Chrysalis was not quite sure whether she needed to prompt him or not. After having waited so long for him to arrive, Chrysalis was not in the mood to wait further. Just as she was about to speak up, however, Thorax broke the silence.

“Have you been using the mind control spell on the Captain?”

The question threw Chrysalis. She had not expected Thorax to bring this subject up – after all, they had already agreed that such measures were only to be taken in the event that Shining saw through her disguise or was otherwise uncooperative with her efforts. Thus far the stallion had been nothing but co-operative, if a little unbearable in the mornings.

“No,” she said, slowly. “I thought we agreed that-”

“I had thought,” Thorax replied, “that given the changes in the guard’s response to this threat you might see fit to use the Captain of said guard in the best way you can? After all, should we not exploit every resource we have available if doing so will secure a more likely victory?”

“Do you really think that ordering Shining to cancel the search for a threat inside Canterlot will draw suspicion away from me?” Chrysalis asked, incredulous. “If anything, that will simply draw suspicion towards Shining, and then myself. And if that weren’t enough, it wouldn’t be hard for someone to notice the effects of the spell, and if somepony were to catch me in the act-”

“He’s been having migraines,” Thorax stated, cutting Chrysalis off. She stood, mouth open, unsure of how to respond. Thorax turned back to look at her, a demanding expression on his face. “Is that not the case?”

“No,” she replied, uncertainly. “That is exactly what has been happening.”

“You could quite easily disguise the spell as a cure for headaches,” Thorax suggested, smirking. “And I wouldn’t have him do something so obvious as cancel all search inside Canterlot; a few subtle commands that give us a little breathing room, some rescheduling of guard posts, that sort of thing.” Thorax shrugged. “I don’t doubt that you could pull that off.”

Chrysalis paused for a moment, licking her dry lips and considering her response, though she was more worried that she had not seen such an obvious solution. She was beginning to worry that her childhood hatred of Thorax was blinding her to the soldier’s intelligence, and making her look a fool in the process: after all, Thorax had to have been promoted so high for some sort of reason.

She tried to concede that Thorax not only had a point, but that he actually knew what he was talking about when it came to tactical discussion. Yet despite the evidence so very clearly in front of her, Chrysalis once again could not bring herself to admit that her childhood tormentor had any scrap of talent for something other than hurting those around him.

“We’ll see,” she said, unable to completely accept that Thorax was right. “I’ll give things a few nights and if we really need to, I’ll use it.” She glared at Thorax then. “But only if I feel we absolutely need to; I shall not risk the whole mission just to try to make our lives easier.”

Shaking his head, Thorax seemed to take a moment to gather his thoughts and restrain his tongue. “I believe that it will almost certainly be the right decision to make, but I can’t force you to do that. Just know that if we fail and could have succeeded with a little help from Shining…” He turned from her, letting the threat hang invisible in the air. The threat was hollow, of course – Chrysalis knew that if they failed, regardless of whether or not Shining could have helped them succeed, they would most certainly be dead.

The image of Celestia standing over her, that had plagued her nightmares so very recently, returned in full force. She shuddered at the thought.

“I promise you, Thorax,” she said, “I shall not let us fail if it is within my power.” Seemingly placated, though he did not look back, Thorax nodded and walked dismissively into the bushes. As he entered the cover a flash of green surrounded him – Chrysalis couldn’t quite make out the details of the pony body that took his place, though she could have sworn she saw a streak of blonde hair swaying in the bushes for a moment before it slid out of sight between the leaves.

Chrysalis let out a breath, relaxing as her own magic surrounded her, changing her shape to match Cadence’s. She reached down to the flower she had almost crushed earlier. It was a little worse for wear – the stem was bent in several places, hard corners out of place amid the smooth, green stalk – but otherwise still well. She thought for a moment, before picking it from the ground and sliding the stem into her hair.

Smiling, she turned and stretched her legs and wings, flexing the muscles for just a moment to allow herself to relax. She had been quite stressed lately, after all, and what little time she had had alone that morning had not helped her at all.

Reaching her magic out around her, Chrysalis felt the familiar tug of teleportation – the feeling of a rope around one’s torso, pulling gently to lead but not so harshly as to hurt. She took one last look around her before slowly letting her grip on herself loosen and allowing the magic to pull her back home.