Canterlot.
Shining, beautiful and splendorous Canterlot, the greatest city to grace the country of Equestria, with buildings of marble and gold and a hundred more extravagant materials. Amongst the materials of these towering complexes however was now a new one, a more au naturel material as it were. For what was more natural than that made from the minds and thoughts of its inhabitants and their prey?
Speaking of prey, one specific member of the livestock in question rolled out of his bed, vision only vaguely bleary as consciousness kindly slithered back into his mind. "Mmmm, what time is it?" Fancy Pants muttered with a yawn, slowly rubbing the drowsiness out with a forehoof. Too soon to be awake, he was sure.
"Approximately 8:35am, give or take a few minutes." A voice the sound of skittering beetles informed him from above. Fancy nodded drearily for a moment, taking the words at ear value. Yes, definetly too early, but the schedule demanded he be u-
Suddenly the fact a voice replying to him dawned upon his mind and Fancy looked upwards. What could have been fear quickly transformed into tiniest tinge of irritation before it was quickly suppressed and filed away. Emotional outbursts, even mental, had to be held back. To keep them open was to invite feeding. And right now, he'd rather not be mentally devoured by a new roommate.
No, at the moment, he'd like to know what was going on. Last he'd checked, which had been around 7 last night after a celebratory dinner to commemorate the Anniversary of the Reign of the New Queen, his room had been comprised of oak walls with white wallpaper and a rich mahogany floor.
Now a good portion of the left wall and a quarter of his ceiling was now the ominous green-black chitin that covered over half of Canterlot, and perched at the top was a somewhat familiar face- not personally, but of race. Fancy Pants sighed, rolling out of bed and rolling his shoulders faintly, eyes notefully looking away from the Changeling and the work created from (or more accurately, because of) it. "BuildersGuild?" He questioned and giving a meaningful nod of his head in direction of the growths just to get the point through, getting a chittering sound of approval in return.
BuildersGuild, one of many Clutches following the Creation of the New Regency, was primarily tasked with entering Changeling Drones and the like into Equine society and of the creation of the varying buildings dedicated to The Queen. When compared to, say, GuardGuild (created to "overlook, protect and help the population") or the rumoured WatchGuild (talked only in hushed whispers, even by Changelings), they were a kind and overly benevolent organization, but like any of the Clutches created after the formation of the new government they seemed to put Changeling interests first and Equine second, and BuildersGuild was rumoured to be the most lazy, bureaucracy wise- it was rumoured they selected the nee apartments by getting a map of the given town, a dart with a Changelings name and then just throwing at it at random, with wherever the dart landing deciding where the Changeling lived.
A rumour which right now seemed very plausible.
"Aren't I supposed to get a notice for the consent of this?" He asked, opening up the door, which was thankfully free of the malignant chitin while the changeling released its grip of the ceiling, wings flapping with the speed of a hummingbird and allowing it a brief moment of viewing the world in the opposite vertical pattern, before spinning around and giving pursuit after the Noble of Canterlot.
"Normally, yes," The Changeling conceded to Fancy Pants, a tinge of embarassament entering its voice. "However, due to your loyalty to the, erm, Royalty," It and Fancy Pants flinched at the rhyme, the spin on words now associated with more treacherous elements, before moving on as if never saying the words.
"I was told that since you're friendship with the Queen, a consent form wasn't needed." The Changeling flinched as it felt a sudden flare of irritation at that, blue eyes glancing elsewhere- an odd reaction, since most Changelings would usually take this time to lord ofer Ponies. Perhaps it knew of his position? Not impossible, he supposed. "I-I can perhaps try and fix a complaint, if this is displeas-" The Changeling snapped its mouth shut as Fancy Pants waved a hoof quiet.
"No, no, it's alright." Fancy Pants said with a sigh, making his way to a different doorway in the hall, opening it up. Inside was a fully furnished walk in closet, with mirrors, racks and cupboards of all kinds of sizes scattered about, with differing coats, tie and glasses laid out before him. "A little change to my decor might do me some good- and so long as you're a good roommate, I suppose." He muttered without too much conviction, his horn glowing a faint gold and grasping a tail of one of the coats. "Tell me, which of these do you think I should wear?"
The Changeling blinked in surprise, glancing at the articles of clothing with an expression resembling befudlement- concepts like clothing were still an oddly difficult thing for Changelings to understand. Taking a few confused seconds to formulate a response, it looked around the room before simply glancing at the outfit he held. "Erm, that one?" It suggested, glancing at a tie at random as well. "Perhaps the green tie to go with it?"
Fancy Pants noted the suggested outfit with some care, mentally envisioning it with careful deliberation before nodding, a faint smirk across his lips. "Good choice." He congratulated, taking the coat off its hook and creasing it out before it quickly went to wrap around his form, lifting his neck so the tie could arrange itself around his throat. "So, while I still have the time, may I have your name?"
The Changeling blinked in surprise, giving a small 'eep!' of surprise (a sound quite unsettling to hear) and quickly turned its head to the small pouches/shell combo on its belly, pulling out a small black square inscribed with dried green juices, the card held in its mouth. It spat it out, a green field quickly grabbing it and holding it up to show to the curious noblepony.
NAME: Glabrous.
AGE: 27 Moons (Equestrian Calendar)
GENDER (optional): Female
And so forth. Fancy Pants nodded kindly as he overlooked the information, mentally listing the Changeling as 'she' as opposed to 'it'. "Well, Glabrous," He quickly glanced up to ensure she was comfortable with that name. Seeing no argument, it seemed she was content with it. "Everything here looks in order." He said, handing the small card back to her. "And, so long as you can manage yourself, I see no reason why we can't live together." Although he'd have preferred a solitary life in his abode, he couldn't truly say that- not without some rather dangerous consequences, anyways.
The Changeling gave a small smile that could have been cute if not for the addition of fangs. "Oh, I'm so glad to hear!" She chirped, blinking in surprise as her new roommate walked by her, adjusting his monocle and grabbing a scarf and cap. "Erm, are you going somewhere?" She queried, her voice more than a trite small.
Fancy mentally sighed, cursing the BuildersGuild for making this such an abrupt and awkward thing before turning to her and nodding. "Indeed- I promised a friend of mine I'd meet him today, and if I'm late, he'll be a bit..." Fancy was silent for a moment, trying to think of the proper words to describes his friend temperment.
"Testy." He decided on, dipping his head. "And I'm terribly sorry how bad a first impression this may be leaving." He apologized, getting an understanding nod in return.
"Oh, it's fine, I understand- I mean, I did show up unannounced." She said with a blush, looking around. "But, erm, do you have anything here I can do to distract myself 'till you come back?"
Fancy thought that over for a few moments before nodding. "Er, yes- down the hall I have a private library. You're allowed to look around through the books there, just try to keep it nice and put everything back." The Changeling smiled widely at the prospect of books and nodded, turning with a twirl and zipping down the hallway, idly
Fancy couldn't help but chuckle at the display, straightening out his cap and walked out into the brisk autumn air of Canterlot.
He had a meeting to attend to.
"A table for two, madame?" Fancy Pants asked politely to the Lavender Unicorn behind the small counter, trying to repress any semblance of discomfort as he stared into her blank green-glazed eyes. One of the Unlucky, a fate increasingly more ponies seemed to be taking. Those whom had bended the knee or been given no choice but to, yet still showed enough resistance that direct control was deemed the only usable outcome.
She stared at him for a moment, her green and once purple eyes staring forwards into nothingness. Than, after a moment, she spoke. "Yes... Right this way." She intoned, vacant eyes looking elsewhere as she strode along, movements jerky and unnatural like those of a crude puppet.
"I don't think I'll ever get used to those..." Blueblood muttered, obviously less concerned about hiding his emotions. Blueblood rolled his eyes, following the 'waitress' to their table.
"There are plenty of things you insist you'll never get used to." Fancy Pants replied, his eyes glancing around the other tables in the room. Here they were in the Souper de la Reine (formerly known as the Mangeons comme elle, which had been renamed for rather clear purposes, as anypony whom could read Caracoler could explain), what had once been the greatest and most bustling restaurant in Canterlot, with the din of countless conversations giving it a lively atmosphere supported by music from the Main Square narely a block away.
Now however there was barely half a dozen in an expansive room that had once carried three dozens, and the sound of laughter, applause and music was replaced with idle whispers, curses and veiled compliments, the formerly tall and confident nobleponies hunched around their tables, once cheerful eyes now glancing about with either arrogance or paranoid caution. The facade of civilization had been torn away- not too surprising, as Souper de la Reine seemed to be the only establishment under the grasp of The Royalty without having an overt Changeling influence- but with Shapeshifters, how could one test the validity of that?
"Although I'll grant you, the new management is a slow thing to adjust to." Fancy Pants admitted as they arrived at the table, the waitress pulling out the chair with a finicky grasp of violet magic. Blueblood rolled his eyes, an annoyed 'hmmph' rising up from him as he pulled out his own chair and sat down on it.
"First sensible thing you've said in sometime." He muttered, glancing at the waitress and sighing, giving his order. He'd been here long enough to know the menu forwards, backwards and sideways, and had a very routine dining habits. Fancy however took a bit more time, idly glancing through the menu with some deliberation. "Hmmm, well that's quite rude to say..." Fancy replied, only paying half of his attention to the former Prince. "I'd like to say I say lots of sensible things." He glanced up at the waitress, expression curious. "Oh, do tell me, what kind of wines do you have in stock?"
The waitress was still for a moment before she mechanically recited their entire list with not too much discomfort or lack of ease- long winded speeches seemed to be a specialty of hers.
"Hmm, I suppose I'll get the Chateau Marecaux please, along with one of the daisy omlettes." He said, folding up the menu before the waitress grabbed both of them in her telekinetic grip, turning and idly walking away to get their orders. Fancy glanced back at Blueblood, who's expression was icy.
"Oh, what is it?" Fancy asked with some annoyance, straightening his monocle.
"Actually, quite." Blueblood snarled, his usually composed and "dashing" stance as a prince falling into an expression of a more vehement kind, his face stuck in a sneer. "You say you're a sensible stallion, yet look at what you've done? Bent the knee to Her, allowed Canterlot to be quartered and divided and overran, and having started the first true war in the last millennia under Her orders!" His voice steadily rose until it was all but a full out yell, making more than a few conspirators glance over with some trepidation and fear at the realization of the apparently powerful individuals in this room.
Unsurprisingly, after Blueblood's small tantrum, the room was now far more empty, not that the waitress seemed to notice. She placed their plates down and filled the glasses with their ordered drinks, utterly oblivious to the furious form of Blueblood. Fancy glanced at her and made a small notion to dismiss her, before glancing at Blueblood cooly.
"Tell me, did you bring me here for an actual meeting, or is this just another opportunity for you to berate me?" He questioned, cutting off a bit of his omelette and chewing into it thoughtfully, a pleasant groan rising up from him. "Hmmm, this is pretty good..."
Blueblood snarled, turning aside his face and sat back down, cutting a slice of his own omelette. "A bit of both, if you don't mind that." He said acidly.
"Oh, not at all." Fancy replied, taking a sip of his drink. "Most of my meetings are like this, anyways. So, the business?" He asked, giving his glass a thoughtful twirl in his telekinetic grip.
"Defy."
Fancy blinked in surprise, giving Blueblood a look of utter bafflement, whom now looked far more stoic than he had a few moments ago. "Excuse me, but... What?"
"You heard me. Defy her." He said simply enough, sapphire eyes narrowed. "Our 'Rightful Queen' is doing nothing but scavenging off Equestria while the populace accepts it, and I tell you, they'll soon not be. These Guilds aren't Pony, don't care for Ponies, so why should we Ponies care for them?"
Fancy Pants idly thought of the new roommate, whom he'd only met and had abandoned to come to this meeting.
"You know, what you say would be considered treason by literally anyone." Fancy said, cutting up a piece of his omelette and chewing it. "And I imagine that you know this, and don't care. I can't say I blame you." Fancy took a sip of his wine to help wet his throat, speaking again. "I mean, if I lost my aunt and had her replaced by a newcomer, I'd probably be angr-"
He stopped, noticing the sheer intensity of Blueblood's glare. There was an ugly, malicious sneer on his fade, uncomfortable to look at if only because of the emotions it stirred- emotions that incited a hungering sensation in Changelings. Finally, he stood, expression still ugly.
"Blueblood, I-"
"Shut it." He snapped, his composure shaking ever so slightly. "Just, shut your verminous craw, and think for once in your life." He said, before turning to leave. "Just tell me this, Fancy Pants."
Fancy looked up at the noble imploringly, an apology trying to slip past his lips, but never made through at the next words.
"Why do you serve Chrysalis?"
And with that, he was gone.
Those words stayed with Fancy Pants as he sat alone in the Souper de la Reine, once known as the Mangeons comme elle.
"Because it's better to worry something than have it happen." Fancy Pants said to nobody as he looked down at the cold pile of beaten eggs, vegetable and flowers that was his breakfast. After a few more moments, he sighed and stood up, removing a few bits and placing them in the table. The gold would be more than sufficient to pay for their meal, Fancy Pants thought as he exited the restaurant.
Fancy Pants never did see Blueblood again.
On the way home from the evening with Blueblood, She returned with her bounty in tow.
The Queen paraded down the street, her black chitin gleaming in the suns beams while her chosen Elite stood side by side to her, their blue eyes piercing. And although every pony whom looked at Her Majesty dipped their head in the now and soon to be traditional kowtow, what truly had their attention was those whom followed the Queen.
4 ponies across and 7 deep, the Eight-and-Twenty rebel ponies followed the Queen down the street that would inevitably lead to the Castles Main Square, heads downcast and expressions grim. All but one- one whom didn't fit into the clearly established lineup.
Zecora, the infamous rebel leader. Perhaps not the mind of the underground organization to bring down Chrysalis, but certainly its face. And speaking of her face, it was in a rather unseemly appearance. One of her eyes had a morbidly swollen bruise around it, the white-black skin bruised into an ugly purple, and her lips were cut- the result of a Changeling smacking her with their clawed appendages, no doubt. All across her similar damages were visible, a brutal point that was highlighted with the bounds she was in- a large iron collar to force her head downwards, a muzzle not too dissimilar to that found on a rabid hound, shackles that made the entire procession move at a crawl. All tactics made to humiliate her.
And yet, the zebra's expression was not grim, distraught, furious or horrified, as would be expected. It was stoic- and one could almost make out a smile beneath the spiked covering that was her muzzle.
The Queen noticed Fancy Pants on the side of the street, down in a kowtow but glancing at Zecora, giving a sly grin at the sight. "Ah, my trusted advisor, how glad I see that you're already formulating plans to deal with this cur." The Queen pronounced in that wicked doublevoice speech of hers, with the word 'advisor' causing an odd ripple in the ponies around him, with Ponies simultaneously trying to avoid his gaze or direction and also to get an awed look at him. The Advisor, him!?
The Changeling Guards of the Queen snarled as this realization spread through the crowd which quickly dispersed, the scant few individuals who knew the knowledge suddenly deciding it wasn't really that big a deal and to keep it to themselves or suddenly found more interest at the way the cobblestone pathways had been arranged.
Fancy rose an eyebrow in surprise at the interpretation of his glance, although he wasn't complaining about it. "Well, My Queen, I imagine you are planning to execute her, as per the norm?" He asked, noticing the various other prisoners turning a queasy shade of green at the offhanded reference.
"That is indeed what I planned." Chrysalis said, a chitinous 'eyebrow' upraised. "Do you disagree?" She asked, her voice veonomoug and low. The few prisoners who weren't looking down
For the shortest of moments, an emotion stirred in his chest as he thought of the recent meeting with Blueblood. His words held now more weight here than they had in the restaurant, and for a moment he thought with the precision of a mahcine, what if I steer her into a trap? And it could be so simple, as well.
But, as quick as the thought came, it left, and Fancy Pants dipped his head in agreement, idly noting from the corner of his eye that Zecora's expression didn't seem to falter or change at his decision, but the prisoners did look at him with dismay. "Wise course, my Queen. It'll have a pronged effect, enticing the rebels to be more careless and also solidify your grip on the populace."
The Queen smirked and nodded, looking up at her Palace with a smirk, her expression greedy and hungry. "Thank you for your assesment, my Advisor." She mewled, walking down the street, the Changeling Guards screeching onwards the prisoners.
Fancy Pants turned to head back home, before stopping, his own words coming back to him. It was better to live and worry about retribution, than to die from it...
"Actually, my Queen..."
Chrysalis halted in place and turned her head to look at the form of Blueblood, her serpentine eyes narrowed venomously. "Yes?"
A silence played out between the Queen of Equestria and the ruler of its capital, the rebels only able to watch with fear.
"Execute only the leader." Fancy Pants said in the coldest voice he could muster. "The survivors could make good bargaining tools."
Queen Chrysalis thought over the suggestion and gave an annoyed hiss- aimed at Fancy Pants, yes, but if only because of how his logic worked. "If if it weren't for the fact this was true, I'd have you accused of being too soft."
Fancy Pants smirked fsintly, pulling out a chainlink watch from his coat and glanced down at it. 11:17am. "I'm a Pony, you're majesty. We're supposed to be soft."
The Changeling Monarch snorted disdainfully at the attempt at humour and turned her head, marching
Later that evening, the Rebel Leader was executed via Feeding, with her mindless husk being assigned to service the palace personally as a Secretary. Meanwhile, the Zebra's varying followers were given the sentence of 12 years minimum in the Crystal Caves of Canterlot, unless other rebel leaders gave themselves up. News would travel across the continent, and in weeks the rebellion would be on it's final legs.
Besides this though, nothing of true note occurred that morning or its afternoon in the wider scope of Equestria.
Fancy Pants nudged open the door, overlooking the hallway curiously. The library doorway was open, and a quick peek showed that Glabrous was sitting in the centre of the room, surrounded on all sides by small stacks of books, while currently nosedeep in an encyclopedia detailing the rise to the power of the Alicorns in post-Winters Equestria, and idly wondered how they had felt. The Unicorn Nobles, the Earth Pony Chancellors, the Pegasi Commanders- what had their reactions been the day they were overruled in power?
Fancy turned and left the Changeling to her book, walking down the hallway to see what else his schedule had in store for today.
He hoped little.
Thus was an average morning in Canterlot of Queen Chrysalis.
