Chrysalis followed her mother, a towering changeling queen, down the hive's extensive tunnels. She shivered slightly; it may be her home but she never felt at ease here, especially around her mother. This had lurked in her since she hatched, and it was a fear she could not place a name to. The queen almost seemed to detest the shy filly. This was something Chrysalis could not understand. She only wanted her mother to feel as happy as she did. Yet, her mother could not understand having a daughter who cared more about making daisy chains on the surface meadows than ruling the underground hive which she was supposed to inherit. That was the only insight mother saw fit to give her little nymph.
After all, Chrysalis was a sweet and gentle creature who loved to learn new things, even if she was rather timid.
Her mother didn't like this at all. From the moment she had held the grub, eight years ago she had known something wasn't right: her daughter was as honest as a pony! Her weaknesses were plain; she was as kind as they were! There wasn't a deceptive bone in her body.
The current queen turned around. "Hurry up!" she barked at Chrysalis, who had ducked away from a particularly frightening shadow and hurried towards her mother.
Her daughter swallowed and nodded, scurrying after her aloof and mysterious mother. She had forgotten where they were going and in a soft, mild voice spoke: "Mommy, where are we going again? I-I-I forgot, I'm sorry."
Of course you did, thought the queen. "We're heading to the throne room, dear."
"Okay, thanks for reminding me, mother. I'll be sure to remember next time!" Chrysalis beamed, excited at the thought of any sort of importance, even if the throne room was sort of boring. All the tunnels of the hive generally looked the same, and Chrysalis could hardly tell one from the other with the expertise her mother had. Her soft, mint-green mane waved with delight.
Her mother only smiled.
...
Every morning Majesty rose with the princess who raised and lowered the sun each day and night in Canterlot. Majesty didn't live anywhere near Canterlot, and she loathed to think what comparisons to the goddess would instill in her. Instead, she resided in a small apartment in Manehatten with her foster parents.
If she were to look out the window, she'd be able to see that the dawn was a soft pink today, like that of her coat. But she couldn't look out the window, at least not yet. When Majesty managed to get up and fit her crippled leg into her brace she hauled herself over to the vanity which she loved so dearly. Her eyes avoided the mirror until she found what she was looking for: a silver half-mask. It was just like the ones they wore in the theaters on Bridleway. The exquisite piece was very pretty, with red chrysanthemum flowers and twirling green ivy painted all over it the thin, well-tempered metal. However, unlike most masks, the single eye-hole was only a black spot painted on.
Majesty's lime green aura sparkled as she lifted the mask up and put it over the 'scarred' half of her face, the one that scared the sensibilities of foals and mares alike. Underneath this mask was an alien, creeping black chitin that dug into her body, never to be separated. Ever since she could remember, seventeen-year-old Majesty had been plagued by a strange pestilence that puzzled every doctor — when she still allowed them near her, that was. The chitin started replacing her soft pink coat eight years ago, it covered parts of her chest, digging into her fragile young skin as painfully as possible, as well as most of her lower half. Not only was she unable to see any cutie mark she might have had, but she was horribly crippled as well. Majesty found herself unable to fit into the bustle dresses that were the latest fashion for young mares like herself. Worst of all was its effect on her face: the entire right side, including the ear, was covered in the crooked, ghastly sight. It changed her eye as well, no longer was it a soft brown like her left but a green, slit-pupil demon's eye.
She glanced in the mirror once the mask was in place. Majesty frowned. There was the slightest bit of new chitin creeping out from under her much-needed mask, with rough edges that dug into her flesh extra fiercely today. The mask she wore every day had belonged to her late mother, who died in a carriage accident three years ago on her way home from work. Majesty had never known her father, but that never worried her, not like the state of her mask did. Her fake 'parents' would start wondering if they should get her a new one, followed by another heartfelt speech about how beautiful their 'daughter' was on the inside. Oh, and there would be another round of pitiful clucking over her with all the bemoaning of 'Oh, why isn't there anypony talented enough to help her?'
Majesty smiled coyly at her reflection, revealing the fangs this dreaded disease had given her. This was the one plus she could claim. If only they knew what their 'beloved' daughter did when they weren't around. How Majesty used her magic to manipulate those who hurt her with words into hurting themselves in ways that were much more physical while she looked on with foalish delight. Majesty believed, no, knew that as her name suggested true beauty was on the outside. Appearances were everything!
She fluffed her thick, straight mane and tail of blue-green. Majesty was hoping to make it look less limp, and blew on the one strand that was forever in her face before fixing the rest of it so it hid her mask a bit more. Unfortunately, her mane was always a long, lank thing no matter what she did with it.
After this she decided to put on the cosmetics she was practically obsessed with, hoping a dark purple eye shadow would distract other ponies from the new chitin.
Soon, Majesty had finished her morning routine, grabbing her crutch before heading off to do her Saturday window shopping.
...
It started with the note pasted to the front door. It was addressed to her of all ponies telling her to catch a long-distance carriage ride for a job offer. Majesty, not being a very obedient daughter decided to go. What job could possibly be offered to a pony such as herself? It didn't matter if her guardians became worried, since Majesty was much more intrigued by the thrill, and fished enough bits out of the savings jar for the fare. It was early enough, and she'd be home in time for supper so that nopony would be worried about her.
Majesty left a note saying she went to a splurge her allowance on Bridleway plays. It didn't matter that it was a lie, that was one of Majesty's specialties.
Majesty was the sort who could be easily irritated by annoying traits and other inconveniences, like having to walk long distances in her state. Or at all.
She spent her whole ride silently seething with all the complaints she was going to give to her host. Whatever pony was crazy enough to lead her to the middle of a meadow four hours away from the bustling hive of a city she loved (and hated just as equally) ought to be informed of such.
Except... the pony who sent for me isn't a pony at all, thought Majesty.
With her uncovered eye, she stared at the creature before her. It certainly looked a little like a pony but why was he...er, it...so insectoid?
The creature pointed a holey leg at an empty space in the air.
"What are you pointing at?"
Majesty drew back in shock as it drew back her mask. "What nerve!"
She was about to smack its hole-ridden hoof away when she saw something that hadn't been there before — the space wasn't as empty as it seemed. Majesty watched as it shimmered slightly and disappeared altogether. Only when she stared at it with her left eye but the demon eye... could she see any of this.
Majesty followed the black insect pony, and once inside the strange doorway, she refitted her mask.
...
Chrysalis and her mother sat in a large cavern that served as the throne room. The throne itself was a dangerous looking cluster of eerie greenish rock spires all clustered together. Although, they thankfully managed to form a decent seat for the queen and the shadow of a princess next to her. Burst sacs of green goop dripped down the walls, signifying where the queen had laid drones of the past and where pustules of love had been stored. If she had any warmblood within her, the dampness of these dark places would make her shudder.
"Today is an important day for our hive," the queen stated coolly. Her steely gaze was not even close to meeting her daughter's wide-eyed and curious one. She knew well how her daughter's eyes were glazed over with the obliviousness lent by kindness.
"Why, Mommy?"
"My dear, I know you don't wish to rule. In fact, I knew it when I first held you—"
"How, Mommy?"
"Call it a mother's intuition," the queen purred. She still not was not looking anywhere, except one of the many different entries in the deserted throne room. "As I was saying before you interrupted your poor mother, I know that you aren't capable of taking the throne. So, a long time — eight years — ago I picked out another creature to be the queen. Somepony I could have faith in."
Two young eyes went wide at the particular words the queen used. "A pony? But mama, we're changelings! How can a pony rule us? They don't have the right senses or magic, right Mommy?"
The queen smiled slyly. "There is a spell we changelings can perform when one is a queen as grand as I. It is called the Change of Heart and it works on normal ponies by slowly changing them into a queen from the time they are very young. One can do the same to ponies of both genders in order to properly make drones too. Something so delicious lies in watching their minds drain away for such a process."
"Really? Does that mean I'll have a sister to play with?" Chrysalis gasped in delight. "Until she becomes the queen, that is..."
"No worries, this mare, as they are called, will be very important to us both. Her arrival will release you from your duties."
"Hello...?" A third voice called out. Both royals turned to look at the mare-creature limping in as she was lead by a drone, who was quickly dismissed by a nod from the queen, who rose from the throne. She began to eye Majesty with a very cold, distant politeness.
"Come with me," the queen said simply.
...
Majesty followed the queen out of the throne room, ignoring a friendly wave from the young grub. The queen leads Majesty through many dimly lit twisting tunnels, all unfamiliar to the guest.
"Do you know why you are here?" the queen asked.
Majesty shook her head.
"Eight years ago I saw a pony-grub with the power to bend minds. She rightly used them for deceit, to fuel lies and take love for her own gain."
"...That was me, wasn't it?"
"Yes, when I saw that pony-grub, I knew she was the sort who held the spirit of a daughter I had lost, a ruthless soul, just like myself. Other hives may scorn my more malicious methods, but they are nothing compared to me! I cast a spell on you—"
Majesty gestured to her mask. "You mean all this?" The last word was emphasized but not with the hate one would expect, rather a morbid curiosity.
"Yes, because I know what you love."
Majesty blinked, and found herself thinking that shopping still might be worth talking to a bug. "...and that is?"
"Power. Attention. You love the preciousness of lies and sheer maliciousness. Sadism is a song to you. Whatever it takes to get you what you want is all you desire, even at the cost of others. Nothing in this world is better than allowing others nothing, and you know this as much as I do."
"Are all change-beings—"
"Changelings," the queen corrected.
"Are all changelings, like this?"
"No, unfortunately, they are not. Love is a food because it is the greatest weakness, and they cannot grasp this."
For a moment there wasn't a single sound uttered, then Majesty spoke. "What is it you want from me? How do I—"
"Become my heir? Have me complete the spell? Take my daughter's name and place?"
Majesty nodded, running her tongue over her fangs in greedy anticipation. Her, a princess and one day a queen!
She had every reason to forgo her shopping now. Even if somepony missed her, she had no reason to miss them, nor would she ever.
"Tell me, please!"
The queen dislodged an object from between two intersecting stone walls and passed something to Majesty, who only smiled.
...
Chrysalis stared at the floor in front of her. She was trying to figure out the best way to balance along the part of the ground where she could see cracks in the stone floor. She heard once that stepping on cracks could hurt one's mother. Chrysalis would never hurt her mother, not even if she could sometimes be scary. Yes, her mother slapped the drones around and said they liked it — among other things — but that didn't mean she was bad. To be bad was not a thing a mommy could be; Chrysalis was sure of it.
A lock of pale green mane fell in her face, escaping her bow, the only adornment she wore other than a wiry crown. Like every other nice thing the little princess had, it had either been fetched from a drone — or crafted from the ones that dissatisfied her mommy. Her mother told her that drones went to the happiest of places when they gave to their queens and princess-grubs that had true minds. What would a drone think — if they could — about how pretty a crown they had given her? Chrysalis dearly wished that they would be so, so happy! Just like her!
"What are you doing, sweetie?" a happy voice cooed, making Chrysalis feel fuzzy in her chest. She rarely got to hear voices like that.
Chrysalis turned around to see the stranger, her new sister.
"Hi," said the little nymph, smiling, hoping to make a good first impression. "I was just keeping out of Mommy's way, especially now that I don't have to do princessy stuff anymore, which sounds like tons of fun! Don't you think so too?"
"That's right," her sister said with a bigger smile. "I'm here to release you from your duties."
Chrysalis was wondering how this worked, she had never heard of this happening before. She decided to sit on the floor so she could devote her full attention to her big sis. "How? Can we play afterward?"
She watched as the pink unicorn's straight horn glowed with a bright green, unlike Chrysalis' pale spring-yellow aura. Chrysalis saw the magic, which was especially sparkly compared to what she was used to, pull off the pretty mask and toss it to the ground. She heard it hitting the stone and releasing one sharp note.
The half-mare smiled even wider than before, and held something else so fast Chrysalis almost couldn't see it: a long knife bearing a wicked edge.
"Close your eyes."
Author's Note
Solving the mystery makes me happy.
[Revised for print on 11/26/2020]
One of the first things that Majesty learned was that changeling goo had many uses. The filly who had been Majesty pulled her hoof from the sticky, icky mixture of the pod in front of her. She had been wishing that it might take more than the last shred of warmth she felt from her. Everything in the hive was cold, but the queen-mother told her that would no longer matter. Not when her blood had been given the same Change of Heart that would finalize the rest of her. Majesty already felt the pangs of yearning in her chest, the one calling her to imagine herself as the kind of lanky black behemoth that her new mother was.
The queen stood next to Majesty, and the filly looked up at the great creature. She knew at last that this was a mother who knew better than to love. If only more mothers might be like her.
For the first time since she arrived, Majesty realized that the queen was giving the biggest, most real smile she had seen on her.
"Oh," the great queen cooed, "if I had a heard, it would love the sight of this. Does your chest not bud with warmth at so glorious a site?"
Her cold, snakey voice had a lilt to it, and Majesty smiled too, though not with half the happiness of the queen. Floating within the thick, viscous slime of the disposal bod was the battered, broken body of an eight-year-old nymph.
A peculiar, vibrating coo left the queen, and she stroked the surface of the pod intimately. Later, two mindless drones would be summoned to dispose of the remains of the worthless prototype that natural-born daughter Chrysalis had been. They would see the brokenness of her chitin, the way that her soft insides spilled from the broken shell she was into the suspended goop. Each drone would look at this, look into the grub's dead eyes, now as blank as their own — and they would feel and know nothing more than they had known the moment before.
"She... she is quite the sight now," Majesty said with a lovely sigh. "I don't think she was ever much of anything before. Do you?"
"No. It is a miracle beyond your goddess I did not dash whatever brains she had upon the rocks. Any other drone egg could have thrived on the royal jelly, yet she became a waste. You, my dear, are the perfect incarnation of the malice a queen is supposed to know. I suppose I was too, when the last queen summoned me here to dispatch her no-good grub."
Majesty gasped, tilting her head up to her truest queen-mother as best as she could. "You were a pony too?"
"Yes, my little nymph. I too had to sever a useless attempt at a grub-life from the world in order to have my Change of Heart completed. It's not exactly uncommon, you know."
"It's... a cycle?" Majesty asked, eyeing her fallen mask. She never wanted to see it again, not after today.
"Not always," the queen said simply, "but oh, it often is. Heirs can be such broken instruments — I believe that is your word for what they are? Daughter is such a false notion; it does not properly convey that these creatures must be used. We, the queens, can only create royal jelly twice in our lifetime — if the first time fails, then a pony must step in. You have so kindly taken up my offer, and now all my remaining jelly awaits you to sample it."
"At least until they become like you, right?" Majesty asked. "A queen cannot be used."
"Mhm, of course. That is the proper way. To use a queen is worse than any claim that tyranny is an illness," retorted the queen with a snort. She stuck up her muzzle snidely, then nodded to the dark tunnel they had come from. "Now, come along, dear Princess Chrysalis."
The nymph-to-be blinked. A few seconds elapsed before she realized that the corpse of the worthless one was not being named. It was she who was being addressed. One step forward — that would be all it took to start the cycle again, for her to one day have to stand by and watch her own daughter cry out for her half-way through her murder. There would be no safety in this life, nothing to do but conduct the song of sadism the queen had told her about upon her entry.
The real Chrysalis gladly took one step forwards, ready to claim the road to queenhood.
Author's Note
I wanted to do a proper epilogue, since this ended up being too subtle upon initial publishing.
