Irregardless of how stereotypical it would have made it look, no drips of water were falling from the roof of the cave Chrysalis laid in. In fact, it was exceptionally dry, one of the driest places she’d ever encountered, both the cave itself and the landscape it resided in. At least changelings didn’t require the ridiculous amounts of water most other creatures the same size needed every day. No, even the one thing they truly depended on for nutrition they could still go quite extended periods without, though obviously not without growing slowly weak and frail . . . like most of her subjects had become.

“My Queen . . . I have our day’s report, if you will receive my request for audience.” A voice called in to her from the cave’s entrance. It was one of her leutenants, Coarse Cilia.

“Come, I desire to hear it.” She responded across the distance without really having to raise her voice.

Coarse Cilia proceeded in at a gradual pace, leaving the Queen to listen to his hollow hoofsteps for half a minute before he arrived at an appropriate distance in front of her. He was weak and frail too, not that he had necessarily been all that large before, from her perspective given she was twice her subjects’ size in both height and length. But regardless . . . this was getting so bad . . . and now, to all too humbling of an extent she was effectively powerless to grant her subjects what they needed. Not after Canterlot.

“I’ve had enough of your retention of things that once mattered, lieutenant Coarse. If you bring anything your own judgment tells you I’ll want to hear, then bring me the message. Do not ask me again if I WANT to hear any of your reports on all of those I am supposed to care for.” Chrysalis both ordered and scolded the officer, who seemed to allow her words sink into himself a moment, as he didn’t initially react.

“Forgive me, my Queen, then,” he apologized in a face-to-ground bow, humbling himself before going on, “I’ve come to tell you that our small operations in both the Buffalo tribe and the Appleousa ponies are succeeding.”

The Queen’s eyes opened almost fully, and she lifted her head upright at the reception of that report.

The lieutenant went on to explain in detail. “We’ve been extremely careful as to only do so whenever the real child being mimicked is out of sight, but we have been having our young mimic Buffalo and Pony children for very brief periods, just a few minutes on average. It’s proved long enough for them garner enough love out of the caring looks of passing adults. We’ve had several close calls, but so far we’ve managed to pull them out just in time on the few occasions the real child suddenly reappeared without warning. Our young are remaining well-fed enough now; not as much as would truly be optimal for their health . . . but they’re not starving.”

A smile grew across Chrysalis’s face, for the first time in a long while. It was not in any way what any of the Canterlot ponies who’d encountered her would have ever expected to see her wear. Her smile was warm, one simply being content, content and relieved, nothing at all like the maniacal, victory-gloating smiles most had last seen her with.

“Maintain your efforts,” she ordered, “and have every one your fellow lieutenants competent enough with devising plans working on something to provide provisioning for the rest of us.”

Up until then, changeling parents had very meagerly been getting by off of shared portions of the love their children received when they were in disguise. Changelings, despite what was likely thought of them by other creatures, could and did in fact feel affection for one another . . . but it was only the love of other species directed at them that could feed them. However, changelings could pass love that they acquired between each other. And that, was how they had been barely scraping by in these months after Canterlot.

“Yes my Queen,” Coarse replied with obedience, “we were already discussing the possibility for us go into Appleousa in disguise ourselves. We adults, I mean. The same as with our young, it could be no more than one or two at a time. Though the youngest Buffalo and our young are close enough in size, the adult Buffalo are too large for us to mimic. They also have too many unique mannerisms that we’ve not been familiarized enough with anyway. Our experience with ponies should easily allow us to pass ourselves off though, for little more than a walk through the town. From what we’ve gathered the ponies all seem to care about each other enough that enough adults simply walking about receive smiles and greetings from most they run into. It’s not as strong as the universal love they all direct towards their collective foals, but it should hopefully be able to serve as survival rationing at the least.”

Chrysalis’s face seemed to glow just a tiny bit more, and came as close as one could imagine to her “perking up”.

This WAS satisfying, far more than that, truly. All the angst and the fear . . . everything her arguably most-faithful subject was finally relaying was able to put a notable amount of her anxiety at ease. That sensation, that horrid emotion was all there had been inside of her for months, consuming her one waking moment after another. Fear . . . fear over what would now become of them. They’d been so close, after dreaming for so long of that day that almost was, pledging and declaring from the time she was small that she would be the one, she would find the Changelings a filling source of love, she would bring them to a permanent state where they would always be fed . . . and always be safe, they would never have to worry about a thing ever again.

But she failed.

And for that, self-embitterment and inward anger were the only other things she’d felt in all the months since that would-be wedding day.

“Excellent, lieutenant, you have not failed in the execution of your duties . . . none of you have.” She told him . . . the only one who had failed was her.

Coarse Cilia bowed himself again, and looked to depart when he rose, only he stopped a third of the way through his about face and shifted back to face his Queen again. “My Queen . . .”

Chrysalis waited for a few passing seconds before some tiny fraction of her old irritability managed to gain life. “Yes? Go on with it.” She demanded.

“My Queen, from all that we’ve seen, specifically when our young have encountered other foals while in disguise that the foals they were mimicking were not well known by, the amount of tolerance and acceptance in ponies and even the Buffalo as well is . . .” the lieutenant paused, and even without his eyes breaking contact with her Chrysalis could feel his thoughts turning.

Her lieutenant was going to say something, and she could easily perceive that he did not think she would like it.

And, he went on, “My Queen, I ask still in my complete submission . . . that we consider approaching them openly.”

“WHAT?!” She stood up, for the first time in days. “NO! I may have failed and cost us dearly with my Canterlot scheme, and I may not have been the one to devise the clever plan we’ve been employing for the last set of months, but I do believe I still just the SLIGHTEST morsel of judgement when it comes to deciding what is ultimately far too dangerous of a suggestion to even consider! Has the past taught you nothing about what happens when ANY others find out what we really are?”

To somewhat of her surprise however, though his fear of her was obvious, Coarse did not break into an apology . . . nor did he even withdraw his suggestion, only a part of it.

“Yes, it has, my Queen,” he held himself calm as he made his reply, “and after our revelation to the ponies in Canterlot, we have every reason to expect that they will do anything but receive us. But . . . these Appleousan ponies here, they appear to significantly cut from the new of the rest of their nation, and even so, when they hear about the subjects raised in papers they receive they hardly seem to be aware of the most recent topics. There is a chance they might not know about us. If that consideration is to be cast aside, then my Queen at least please consider the Buffalo . . .”

“What about them?” She questioned with narrowed eyes. It was only her guilt that was allowing her to let him go on so far. She was willing to listen to, and even follow almost any of his ideas, far more openly than she used to. But ANY form of direct association with ponies was still a far distance beyond her tolerance line.

“They’ve never heard of us, and they seem to be just as caring amongst each other as the ponies are. And . . . although they are friends with the ponies, the two don’t have the best of histories, from what we’ve gathered. I believe, my Queen, if we were to approach them openly, if they did respond kindly to us, they may agree not to disclose our presence to the ponies. We might be able to have a consistent, and willing food source, and still not risk revelation to Celestia.”

For the moment that followed Chrysalis said nothing back to him. Her only reaction for nearly a minute being her eyes changing from a harsh narrowness over to a very hesitant, but thoughtful kind.

There was risk, too much risk. She wanted to just dismiss his suggestion out of temper, but her own thoughts still held on to her. Hadn’t there been seemingly too much risk in what she’d tried to have them pull off in Canterlot. Let alone just that, but then thinking that they would have been able to just overpower the entire rest of Equestria, millions of other ponies after that. What position was she in now to call this proposition ridiculous?

Chrysalis closed her eyes for a few seconds, and opened them again as she finally responded to her lieutenant. “You’re suggestion’s all too sensible, lieutenant. I’m going to have to deny it.”

Coarse Cilia appeared more confused than he ever had in his life before. The way his Queen had just phrased her denial . . . he couldn’t process it.

Chrysalis blinked once and explained herself to him. “I’ve been in this declining apathetic state far too long. I was trying to make humor.”

THAT left Coarse most assuredly more shocked then he ever would be again. For one who might know how to tell the changes in a changeling’s eyes, his eyes shot wide and huge.

“Carry out the plan you’ve conceived, but hold caution. And have every changeling told to be ready, we’ll need to be ready to flee if the Buffalo do not conceal us as you say.”

It still took the lieutenant another few seconds to what he’d heard over, but regained himself quickly enough and bowed low again just Chrysalis laid back down on the cave floor. “Yes, my Queen.” He said and took off immediately.

She was alone, again. Nothing to do but think, and worry, and resent . . . and now wait. This wasn’t the same as waited for each moment of the Canterlot invasion to fall into place, there no excitement in this. It was just anxiety-ridden anticipation of whatever outcome Coarse Cilia’s proposal might yield.

Queen Chrysalis, Queen of the Changelings, felt like her heart was being held over the edge of cliff, without wings. Granted, it was the same heart she’d sang about being empty and having no room inside of it only months before. Now though, now there was a lot of room, room reserved for something that she feared would never arrive, but seemed as if just maybe it might be coming.

Her heart had enough room for hope.

Author's Note

Well, here's the first chapter of what's going to be my latest story. I've been wanting to do a Chrysalis story for a while.
For situation-wise, I hope it's clear enough that "the badlands" they got flung to (at least for me) are within the same region as Appleousa.
The story will have semi-shifting POVs, mainly between Chrysalis and the story's other main character (his POV next chapter).

Hope everypony/anypony enjoys :)