It's Good to Be Queen

Chapters

It's Good to Be Queen

It's Good to Be Queen

Author's Note

There are many stories which seek to depict Queen Chrysalis in a more sympathetic light. This is not one such story, but it seeks to make her no less entertaining for it. Enjoy, if you dare. :pinkiesmile: And thanks to MagicMan, whose love of Chrysalis in full-on villain mode helped "voice" her as pure evil.

It's Good to Be Queen

Like any conqueror worthy of the name, Queen Chrysalis stroked her chin, deep in thought.

She would have been well within her rights to relax a little, stretch out across the sumptuous throne that had once belonged to Celestia, drink in the feel of this massive, simply-furnished but eye-pleasing room. Several months onward, the Changeling Queen still had not gone back on her decision that, on second thought, the Canterlot Royal Palace’s throne room was too much a work of beauty as it was, to require any improvement she or her Swarm could have provided, coating the ornamental pillars with wax, or storing eggsacks upon the ceiling.

Instead, her eyes kept trailing, with beady keenness, all along the red carpet from her throne to the double doors at the far end, and she suppressed a sigh. The day’s work awaited. Long, long ago, her mother had oft sat little Chryssie on her knee, trying the play the part of the older, sager mare. Warning her, one forehoof always at her lip, that she’d be Queen of the Swarm one day, and such a title didn’t mean life was all fun and games, but duty, responsibility, in short, everything which interested a young, ambitious filly not at all.

Now look at how far she’d come. Ruler of Equestria, greatest country in the world, and not only that, but from hereon, the definitely, irrevocably unchallenged ruler. And throughout this, her guiding light had been to prove her mother wrong.

Smiling, Chrysalis allowed herself to lay back against the throne.

“Ah, yes,” she cooed, breathing softly. “Crushing the proles may be exhilarating, but it does leave a girl fairly winded in the aftermath. Now, though, given the time to sit and think, my brilliant mind’s had the chance to cook up all the most exquisite… recipes to which I can for these useless meatsacks to good use.”

She grunted, sourly, pulling up her outstretched legs to seat herself into a more formal, regal position befitting her magnificent stature. Her guards and the habitual retinue of servants in this room might be accustomed to seeing her slouch casually, but for this occasion, she, the Great Queen of the Swarm and Ponies, would be required to tower over each and everyone. To begin with, at any rate.

“Must do this properly,” Chrysalis muttered. “Wouldn’t do for any remaining foes or rivals I might have to think ey sitting on this excellent chair is softening me up. Keep a sharp poise, Chryssie…”

Still, she thought it over. Then, a wicked smirk tugged at her lips as she got an idea. This one wouldn’t serve just for her personal luxury or amusement. Oh, no, this here idea would send, loud and clear, a message as to who was boss.

Chrysalis looked toward the Captain of her Guard.

“You! Phalanx!” she yelled, pointing in his direction. “Yes, you. Tell me, please. I trust that, per my instructions, our dear Prince Blueblood has been kept sufficiently fed and watered these past few days?”

Dutifully, the Captain stepped forward, and nodded.

“Yes, my Queen,” the Captain stated. “He does, indeed, continue to receive the royal treatment from us, especially in comparison to his miserable compatriots.”

“Excellent....” Chrysalis hissed, rubbing her forehooves together. “Now then, Phalanx, here’s what I want you to do. Have him brought to me… then, the foremost traitors and dissidents, in this very room, so that I may pass my… particular brand of justice upon them.”

A twinkle of recognition gleamed in her Captain’s left eye, but he said nothing, ever professional to a fault. She, however, in no way shared his austere mentality. Marvelous as it was to occupy this throne, it could sometimes be a sore on her rump, like now, as Chrysalis found herself shifting her weight across its smooth surface.

“And do hasten to get my favourite cushion, before anything else happens.”

Impassive, the Captain nodded again. “At your orders, Your Majesty. I shall have these instructions dispatched forthwith. But, if I may be permitted one question?”

Patiently, Chrysalis inclined her head, once.

“What if Blueblood refuses the blindfold…” the Captain enquired, “... this time?”

Did Phalanx knew he could be funny? Because sometimes, he knew to amuse. A cackle of mirth rose up from Chrysalis’ throat, rippling through her body.

“Have no worries on that score, Phalanx. I doubt he will…”

On that note, without further ado, the Captain scuttled away to see her orders carried out to the letter. Happily, it turned out Chrysalis did not have to wait for long. As she’d instructed, before the accused had even entered the room, Blueblood was being guided to her throne, flanked by a pair of Guards.

Phalanx had not lied. The Prince did look decently-enough fed, still the same bulky and outwardly quite handsome stallion as on the night of the Gala. But this was evidently not a pleasant position for him. Not only was he gagged, as always, but he hadn’t the courage to remove his blindfold.

As such, the guards were forced to, shoving rather roughly, direct him towards the throne.

Chrysalis raised a forehoof. “That’s close enough, lads. Blueblood, I trust you can hear me? Good. Well now, please do me the service I keep you around for, with those little material comforts of yours.”

She stood up, making space for him.

Though blind and speechless, Bluebood’s hearing was, indeed, not impaired, as he obediently headed her way. Besides, he knew what was expected from him. Carefully, he turned around on himself, falling into a steady backwards trot towards the place she’d vacated, and, none too hurriedly, eased himself into position.

In accordance to routine, he crouched, body crossing one length of the large throne to another, belly pressed against the seat proper, sizeable hindquarters against the back. As always, him being bigger than most ponies’, his cloth-covered head dangled over the edge, facing the floor. Yet this suited her just fine, for how it perfectly completed the picture of abject submission.

Delighted, with a flick of her wings, Chrysalis returned to her throne, and sat down, getting nice and comfy. As a gesture of fondness, she bent forward to ruffle Blueblood’s golden mane.

“Mmh, so soft and billowy…” she grinned. “A fine cushion you make, sweet prince. But maybe I should consider fattening you up some more. After all, a cushion can never be too soft. Hahahahahaha!”

And soon after, as per the Queen’s command, the three surviving ringleaders of the Everfree Rebellion came to her, retrieved from the dungeons beneath Canterlot Palace.

They were dragged into the throne room, in heavy irons, by a squadron of guards, each one of them peppered in thick, fresh bruises and blackened eyes. Better yet, they all appeared quite malnourished from the regurgitated hatchling food they’d been forced to eat for breakfast, lunch and dinner over the last month.

A predatory grin stretched across Chrysalis’ chitinous muzzle, flashing off her pearly white razor blades as she picked up a chalice of love wine from nearby, and discreetly ground her flanks into her plush ‘cushion’.

“Well, well...” She took a sip of the love wine. “Well. I almost thought I’d never see the day. The rebels of the Everfree, before my throne in irons.” Greedily, she downed some more, smacking her lips, prior to commenting, “Mmmh, tastes just as sweet as I thought it would. I was right to save it for the occasion.”

The rebel leaders, all mares, glowered up at her, the tyrant who had gleefully destroyed everything they had ever known and loved. The fiend who had ruined not only their lives but the lives of tens of thousands, likely millions, with little to no justification except her species’ insatiable greed.

Zecora, Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie — the ‘Everfree Triumvirate’ as they had become known amongst ponies who so desperately believed they would deliver Equestria from bondage. With every town and village they had liberated, curing what ponies they could of Chrysalis’ brainwashing and adding to their numbers ever so slowly, the Everfree Rebels inspired a fragile hope in ponies for a future free of Changeling tyranny.

Now that hope was gone, smushed into oblivion, Chrysalis reflected joyously, under her well-endowed rump.

Chrysalis raised one leg across the other, and rested her cheek in her hoof, continuing to lord over her fallen enemies with that dung-eating grin she’d elevated to a fine art. The spiders in her brain worked overtime, spinning all kinds of beautifully sadistic punishments she’d cast upon the three mares who’d been a massive thorn in her side for far too long.

Still, if she was to play the role of ‘regal monarch’, she supposed she’d be obligated to extend the hoof of mercy. Again.

Chuckling, she set her drink down atop Blueblood’s head, and sat up straight.

“Now... my little ponies,” she began, her tone warm, almost maternal, “I wouldn’t want you to think of me as a merciless Queen—”

Pinkie Pie stuck out her tongue and scoffed, “Too late for that.”

“SHUT YOUR MOUTH, YOU GLORIFIED DONKEY!”

The room fell deathly silent, such that one could’ve heard a pin drop on the marble floor. Chrysalis had jolted up, hovering, straight as a needle, above the three, eyes flaming green, chest heaving up and down in a shivering fury.

Sensing all eyes on her, she immediately sought to recompose herself, taking in a couple deep breaths as she slowly drifted back down to sit on Blueblood, a second round of grinding her flanks into his plush body for good measure. Her calm, motherly smile soon returned.

“Heh, heh. My, my, what an adorable sense of humour. Now, where was I?” she spoke silkily, gracefully brushing one loose strand of cerulean hair. “It’s out of my generous nature that, even with your acts of treason against the crown taken into account, my offer of complete and total clemency still stands. For all three of you.”

None of the three accused looked particularly moved by the Queen’s stale offer. Fluttershy was the first to make her position clear.

“That’s funny,” she snorted, “I don’t recall ever betraying Princess Celestia.”

A pulse twitched above the Queen’s eye. Below her, Blueblood went tense as her thighs tightened around his neck, slowly choking off the air flow.

Chrysalis continued, through a painfully forced grin, “Perhaps you misunderstand. I... am trying to give you the chance to—”

Zecora rudely cut her off. “Perhaps it is you who misunderstand.”

“We said, ‘get bucked!’” Pinkie Pie spat.

There was a pregnant pause. Chrysalis’ expression suddenly grew almost impossible to read. She showed no real sign of looking especially angry or affronted by their continued defiance, let alone disrespect, not even by the pink one’s obscenity to her face.

Instead, she just picked up her chalice again, gazing listlessly into its bubbling, frothy pink contents for a minute or two.

Chrysalis then inhaled deeply through her nostrils, and told the guards, almost indifferently, “Bring me the quagga.”

The massive, hulking Changeling guard behind Zecora grinned viciously. In an arc of grey, she pulled back her hoof and punched the zebra’s face so hard, it snapped a solid ninety degrees.

Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy gasped, horrified, as spittle and blood sprinkled the floor and their friend collapsed in an agonized heap. As their expressions turned to rage, the two of them looked ready to pounce on the Changeling that had struck her, but the guards promptly yanked them by the irons still clamped around their throats.

Zecora writhed on the floor, cheek evidently screaming red with pain against her grey-and-black striped coat. Come tomorrow, her face was bound to be all swollen. To cap off the tableau that was her face, the huge Changeling minion had chipped a couple of her teeth.

She tried gathering herself to all fours, but the guards grabbed her by the legs and dragged her right before Chrysalis’ throne.

“Drop her, girls.”

On cue, the guards threw Zecora, letting her head bang against the carpeted steps leading up to the throne. Chrysalis, chuckling at the pathetic pile of flesh that her supposed ‘greatest enemy’ had been reduced to, magically hoisted Zecora up by the mane so she could look the zebra in the eye.

The Queen had to admit, despite how much she well and truly despised this striped nuisance, quaggas, even battered and bloodied, did have a natural beauty to them she always envied. If Zecora had been born into the privileged of her homeland who were wealthy and powerful, she might have made quite the chieftain’s consort.

Such a waste.

“Oh, Zecora, Zecora...” Chrysalis mused playfully, cupping her chin, her hooves made soft with fake maternal affection. “All those countless sleepless nights I’ve spent racking my brain, thinking up what I’m going to do with you, once I had my hooves wrapped around your neck...”

As she spoke, her pock-marked hooves coiled around and clamped tightly on Zecora’s neck.

Zecora gagged violently, trying to prey the Queen’s hooves from her throat, “I don’t care what you do to me, all I ask is you let my friends go free.”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to make demands, my little zebra!”

With amusing futility, Zecora continued to struggle against the iron grip around her neck.

Humming to herself, Chrysalis let the spectacle run its course, ever-tightening her hold on the rebellious zebra, in rhythmic tandem to her thighs’ grasp on Blueblood. She could tell that, with his windpipe blocked by his mistress’s clutches, the hapless stallion was starting to seriously lack for air, frantic gaspings muffled behind the silk gag, as she saw blue veins pop out above his blindfolded eyes. Hah, Blueblood, blue veins.

Utter dismay lit Fluttershy and Pinkie’s features at this. Clearly, she shouldn’t have expected the younger generation to ‘get’ sophisticated humour.

Of course, like always, Fluttershy was first to summon the courage to protest.

“S-stop!” the buttery pegasus squeaked. “Y-you’re ch-choking the life out of them!”

And, naturally, a guard moved to beat her. But now was time for Chrysalis to show why she was queen of a species of play-actors, of deceivers. Ooh, this would be so much fun. Having picked up Fluttershy’s outburst, she looked up, quickly signalling the guard to stay put, before easing her hold on Zecora, though she didn’t release her hovering prisoner.

“‘Them’?” she asked, miming confusion. Then she glanced down at the wheezing Blueblood. “Oh, you’re referring to my luxury item here. Ah, don’t worry about the little snuggle-cheeks, it’s right where it belongs, isn’t that right?”

She relaxed her thigh, allowing Blueblood, after he had breathed in a lungful through the gag, to give her a servile nod.

“Good boy.”

To compound her point, Chrysalis finally let herself lean back in the rebels’ presence, allowing her right rear hoof to trace little circles along the stallion’s tousled blond mane, massaging it.

“Hey, why the long faces?” she asked casually, spotting the looks the three of them gave her. “Seeing you here, one’d think I was doing something unspeakable. I can assure you, ladies, nothing has been done to Prince Blueblood which’d make him hate me forever… after all, love is what I gorge upon. And though you may not want to believe it, over time, Blueblood has come to love me. For the treats I grant him, permitting him to keep on living in his dear, absent relatives’ home. Most of all, for the pleasure of serving me.”

Smiling cruelly, Chrysalis gave a little flick of her horn, turning Zecora upside-down in mid-air. Given how the zebra shaman had let her mane grow during her time as rebel leader, this caused long, thin strands of her hair to cascade down all over the place.

Contained as the prisoner was within the magical green aura, it was not difficult to closer draw Zecora, up-ended, at the crest of the throne. Chrysalis sighed blissfully as the bushy grey-and-black mane washed over her face, parting on either side like a curtain.

“Mmmh… though you’d seek to deny it, you ponies have always been a docile lot, who just love to be ruled. In a thousand years, not once did you seek to replace Celestia, contrary to… whatever nonsense stories are told outside the country about those like Blueblood and his ilk.”

Again with the sole of her rear hoof, she tenderly caressed his blunted horn. “This here is the true place of ponykind, ladies. Under me, and loving it.” As if just remembering, she ran her forehoof through the grey-and-black draped over her shoulders. “Or bowled over in the face of my magnificence. Before me, you owe me awe.”

No question about it. Fluttershy and Pinkie were staring at her, the bug-creature on the throne, with a mix of fear, disgust and sorrow. Delicious. And now for the main course. She’d make these three’s punishment a memorable, special occasion, yes she would.

Idly tapping her forehooves, in a woosh of disturbed air, Chrysalis sent Zecora crashing to the the foot of the throne, rolling down the steps and landing in an undignified mess.

As soon as she’d caught her senses, bewildered, the captive rebel leader turned to look first at her unbelieving friends, then back at Chrysalis, who made sure to sport a rather crafty grin.

“Why do you chose to spare me so? I believe you await to only cast me further low…”

“Always on the ball, aren’t you?” Chrysalis sneered. “Don’t fret, Zecora, your time will come. Only, there’s been a slight change of plan. Guards! You know what to do.”

Summoned, one Changeling guard seized Zecora, whilst another bore forth a heavy iron pin. A third took the chain still attached around her chafed neck, and pulled her towards him, ignoring her ongoing attempt at pushing him away, as the one carrying the pin reached for the chain-ring closest to her neck, then slid the pin through the gap, straight through and into a circular little crevice by the throne, ready-made for just such a moment.

With the chain thus attached, Zecora could not pull her head free from the pole, and she was kept at a hoof’s reach from her Queen, who, once the guards had dispersed, bent all the way forward and kissed her forehead.

“I’ll deal with you later, my sweetling…”

Disregarding the zebra’s utter revulsion, Chrysalis turned her attention to the other prisoners.

“So,” she intoned gravely. “Fluttershy. Beast Mistress. The mouse that roared.”

And, to what should be no-one’s surprise, Pinkie Pie near-literally leapt to her friend’s defense, held down solely be the iron weights around her neck.

“You don’t scare her, ‘Chryssie’!” the little pink menace spluttered. “You don’t! After all, like, what are you, if not just another mean old ghostie, I mean, you don’t have a proper shape! Stuffing yourself like that, you must get as chubby as dear old Mrs. Cake, she didn’t mind, she loved sweet stuff, sharing a piece with everyone, you, you just want to take it all!”

But Chrysalis barely acknowledged this exuberant, tiresome mare’s attempt at distraction.

“Nice try, Miss Pie,” she drawled. “After seeing how Miss Posey’s uncharacteristic loud-mouthing drew away my interest from the quagga. Sadly for you, I’ve got it all planned out in my head. Zecora will get to see what punishments I mesh out on each of you, before I finally turn to her, and you’ll watch… assuming you’re still around for it, that is.”

Fluttershy faltered under her piercing stare, shrinking back in a whimper. Satisfied that the pegasus’ fighting spirit was broken, Chrysalis nodded once.

“Miss Pie… Miss Posey.” She gestured in their direction. “You may have noticed a little… rearrangement I shortly made to the layout of this room, right beneath your hooves.

Instinctively, Fluttershy and Pinkie looked down. Sure enough, outlined even through the thick layer of red carpet, the spot they stood on was marked, dimly, by an outline in the shape a big square crudely cut upon the marble floor.

Chrysalis indicated a lever to the left of her throne.

“Were I to throw this switch,” she explained, “you’d go tumbling down to your doom, my dears. And its only design flaw is that I still need to get up from my comfy chair, if I wanted to enjoy a proper view from my royal box. Alas, that foolish architect didn’t take my audience privileges into account during construction. Needless to say, he was the first I tested it on.”

Fluttershy blinked, taking a step back. “Our d-d-doom?”

Even Pinkie seemed alarmed. Her ears perked up. “What lies down there?”

“Oh…” Chrysalis waved her hoof airily. “What else but a fierce beast?”

Yes, sure enough, Pinkie Pie dared to let out a triumphant smirk at this remark.

“Hah! Fluttershy can out-stare any big, nasty, ugly brute you throw her w—”

Then Chrysalis let the penny drop. “How about a dragon?”

Shocked gasps arose from the zebra and all ponies in the room, except for Prince Blueblood, whose sole reaction was a slight twitch of the ears.

“A… a dragon?” Pinkie repeated disbelievingly. “A nasty great big fiery dragon?”

This earned her a chuckle from Chrysalis. “Well… maybe not quite so big when he started out, but stoke his greed for a few years…”

Fluttershy looked a mess. “Wh-where d-d’you get a dragon from? They’re so-so r-r-rare and hard to t-tame.”

Again, Chrysalis reclined, resting her head upon her forehooves, with her right, rear hoof raised alluringly and idly twirling around the trapdoor lever, akin to a parody of Equestrian lingerie commercials. She sensed Blueblood’s relief, though, as his belly-down upper body would now be mostly free of her weight.

Not that, by his puffed cheeks, he wasn’t visibly withholding a sigh, lest she take offense...

“Heh-heh, funny story, that,” Chrysalis cackled. “Would you believe it was ole Cellie herself who left it in the hold of her School for Gifted Unicorns? Quaint little thing, it was, like so much to do with ponies, purple with green spots. And to think, they had this marvel, and the best they could think for its use was as a prop in an entrance exam!”

With an affected groan, Chrysalis straightened herself back to her full, intimidating height. But the groan which Blueblood barely stifled, even through the gag, was most certainly not fake, however. This pleased her greatly.

“So, Miss Posey,” she said, knowing she was on a ball. “Consider this my special test for you. Do you, the Beast Mistress, fancy yourself talented enough in your animal skills to face a full-grown, fire-breathing dragon? I give you a minute to decide.”

Fluttershy tried hard not to give her Queen the satisfaction. She really did. Her whole body language screamed of a desperate refusal to beg. But it was too much. In front of their eyes, her resolve weakened and, before Pinkie can shush her, she answered.

“D-decide? What do I decide? You… you’re gonna do it either way!”

Chrysalis endeavoured to seem taken aback.

“Heavens, no!” she exclaimed, a forehoof over her heart. “Not necessarily. What sort of monster do you take me for? You see, Miss Posey, I do have an appreciation for the finer things in life. My taste for what’s soft and delicate on my sensitive skin, you’ve already noticed.”

At last, she could slouch to her content. Wordlessly, she levitated her empty chalice for a guard to take away, and crossed her outstretched rear hooves upon Blueblood’s head as though it were a footrest.

“It has come to my attention,” Chrysalis continued amiably, “that you are a… a singer, so they tell me. A veritable songbird of the forest, with a beautiful voice.”

This just made Fluttershy blink twice, but abruptly, Pinkie was grinning from ear-to-ear.

“That’s so, so, so true! She—”

“Pinkie PIE!” Fluttershy yelled, suddenly exasperated. “What did I tell you? Not HELPING!”

This outburst made Pinkie’s ears droop. Chrysalis laughed quietly, clasping her forehooves.

“Hear, hear, quite the voice indeed, little mouse.”

Fluttershy blushed, but she took up the conversation, eager to be friendly, even towards her worst enemy.

“I, um, yeah…” she mumbled. “I guess. I love to sing. Just get nervous in front of crowds.”

“What a shame.” Chrysalis clucked her tongue. “But how would you like it, if the rest of your life consisted of nothing but the call to sing, with all your heart, to one person who’d always appreciate you for your talent, without any horrid, pressing crowds barging in?”

“Oh!” Fluttershy breathed in. “Um… that sounds kinda… nice, actually. It’d be almost lovely.”

From the corner of her eye, Chrysalis detected a slow understanding dawning on Pinkie, which, happily, Fluttershy, her gazed locked with the Queen, too cowed by her own fears, failed to pick up on.

Chrysalis twirled a tuft of her mane. “Would you like that instead?” she asked Fluttershy, kindly. “I can make it happen.”

Fluttershy hesitated no more than a second. “Well… singing’s gotta be better than being eaten by a dragon…”

Shaking her head, Pinkie tried to reach for her friend. Alas, the chains held her back.

“Flutters, no! Don’t you see what she’s doing? She wants—” But she came no further, as a furious guard conked her upside the head. “Ooof…”

Undeterred, Chrysalis pressed on her improvised interview. “Is that your desire, Miss Posey? Promise, I will spare your friends if you say yes.”

And there we go. That did the trick. Fluttershy, despite the fear in her eyes, nodded resolutely. “... Yes. Please spare my friends.”

Chrysalis’ grin grew wider: “Excellent. Guards! Lower the birdcage!”

The guards scrambled toward a system of pulleys and ropes and from the ceiling, where a chandelier may once have hung, the requested item began to descend.

Fluttershy glanced up. “B-birdcage? What’s g-going on?”

“I tried warning you, Flutters…” Pinkie whispered, rubbing her forehead sadly.

The birdcage touched down in front of Fluttershy as several guards swarmed her. Although they clearly knew what to do, Chrysalis spelt it out for all and sundry to hear.

“Good. Now lock her in. From hereon, she’ll be my little songbird.”

“What?!” Fluttershy screamed. “NO!”

The buttery pegasus flew into a panic attack, her wings frantically trying to carry her body off the ground in some scatterbrained attempt at escape. Of course, in her panic, she’d lost any train of logic and had forgotten the obvious. She was still clasped in irons, heavy ones that bound her wings to her sides. The guards didn’t have to do anything, they just watched her struggle and strain, like a mouse trying to squirm out of a cat’s paw, with ghoulish amusement until they burst out laughing.

Chrysalis joined in their merciless ridicule of the mare who at one point had been spoken of fearfully by even the fiercest of Changelings within her ranks. A fair few had fallen to the ‘Beast Mistress’. If this truly was the same mare who destroyed them, Chrysalis figured, then maybe the species’ genepool had grown just a little purer.

Their laughter spent, two guards pounced upon Fluttershy, ruthlessly kicking and biting her into submission until they were able to drag her along the floor, by her chains, to her new home. When they reached the cage, they collectively hoisted her up and started shoving her inside, past the open latch. Fluttershy put up one final, weak show of defiance, tears streaming down her cheeks as she pleaded, begged.

“N-no, NO! Please... please don’t do this to me... I can’t stand being in small spaces!”

The first guard snapped her head back by the chains, snarling with disgust. “And to think... this is the Mistress of the Beasts? The scourge of the Changeling army? Gotta say, I’m feeling really, really let down right now.”

“By us, or her?” asked her fellow guard. She casually turned around and raised a hindleg.
As the other removed the chains, grasping their struggling prisoner by the neck, she replied, “Both.”

With a definitive kick of the second guard’s hindleg, Fluttershy crashed face first against the bars inside her cage, her chains lazily tossed in after her like luggage. Plainly, the pegasus’ head was spinning so much, she failed to register the slam and locking of the latch behind her until it was too late.

“NO, no! Please, let me out of here!” she wailed, hysterically thrashing and kicking about in the enclosed area. “I don’t like small spaces! Or heights!”

One of the male guards reached his hoof through the bars, helping himself to a large clump of pink mane.

“Oh, don’t you worry, little pony, we won’t keep a pretty mare like you cooped up all day long.” He pulled her forward so her face was inches from his, separated only by a slim metal barrier. “We’ll give you plenty of times in the day so you can, heh heh...” Greedily, he took a long, deep snort of her mane. The scent of strawberries would be irresistible for a weak male like him. “Stretch your wings.”

As expected, the implication behind those mere words filled Fluttershy with a bone-chilling terror that reduced the former rebel leader to a quivering ball of fur and feathers. Then the pulley-and-rope system started up again, and she and her cage were pulled slowly up towards the ceiling. Wouldn’t do, however, for her to be so scared out of her wits, she’d lose her voice.

At least all the way up there she would feel safe from them. For now.

“What a pretty songbird you make, Fluttershy...” Chrysalis’ bulbous eyes drifted from admiring her newest trophy to her remaining victims. “Now, who’s next...” Her vision twitched from left to right and back between the pink earthpony and zebra. “Oooh! Miss Pie, would you be a darling and step forward, dear.”

A pool of sweat had already formed around Pinkie’s hooves.

“Uhh... nah, I’m cool over here—”

Before she could finish her sentence, Pinkie was blinded by a flash, and before she knew what hit her, she found herself strapped with steel bands to a dentist’s chair in the centre of the throne room. A Changeling newcomer dressed up like a dentist stood over her menacingly, rubbing his gloved forehooves together in twisted anticipation.

“From what I’ve heard about you, mud pony,” Chrysalis taunted her, “is that you’ve got quite the sweet tooth.”

Mountains of mouth-wateringly delicious treats, donuts, cakes and pastries of all kinds, materialised out of thin air, surrounding the dentist’s chair on a sea of glittering silver trays.

Chrysalis’s voice continued, sinisterly. “Your reputation precedes you all around, Miss Party Planner Extraordinaire. In my months of savouring this moment for when it’d arrive, I had thought I might simply pump you so full of heliu, you’d turn into one of your precious balloons. But, if a long wait is good for something, it’s giving one time to rethink. And that, I realised, would be too… ordinary and predictable, wouldn’t you say, Pinkie? No, I’ve got something a bit more delicious in mind for you... You like sweets, Earth Quagga? Well, why don’t you HAVE ALL THE SWEETS IN THE CASTLE?! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

Like a conductor straight from Tartarus, the ‘Bug Dentist’ summoned up a magical assembly line of sweets flying one-by-one off their trays and straight into Pinkie’s mouth, each of which the already-pudgy pink pony devoured without hesitation, some in one whole gulp. She could simply not help herself, no matter how hard she tried to fight it. Pinkie Pie’s sweet tooth always had the final word.

The Changeling Queen howled with wild laughter, legs flailing and hooves pounding against Blueblood’s tenderized mass as hundreds upon hundreds of sweets were forcibly shoved down the silly mare’s gullet.

Oh, it would not be long now before her ears were greeted by the sweet, sweet sound of a single, loud ‘POP!’

… Except that never came.

Two tons of cakes and donuts in, Pinkie Pie had grown to the size and shape of a huge, taut beach ball. In spite of her grotesque size, she continued to eat with gusto, much to the bewilderment of ‘Bug Dentist’, who discovered he was rapidly running out of ammo.

Chrysalis could only sit there on her throne and watch in utterly bewilderment, stopping only occasionally to check her watch.

“MORE!”

It was Pinkie who squealed those words, through a mouth full, biting down on a double chocolate eclair, splattering her already messy face with cream.

The Bug Dentist slapped his forehead. “I don’t understand it,” he gaped. “Cheese Sandwich went mad in fifteen minutes.”

“Alright, enough! You’re dismissed.”

The assembly line came to an abrupt halt, leaving Pinkie’s tongue desperately reaching out to lap at a bakewell tart suspended in midair. Giving his Queen one last, helpless shrug, the Bug Dentist wisely beat a hasty retreat from the room.

Fortunately for him, all of her focus rested on the weird, stuffed pink pony.

“Clearly, I’ve underestimated your... I don’t know if I can call these ‘special abilities’, but it looks like I’ll have to improvise,” Chrysalis bristled. “Shame too, I was looking forward to re-decorating this place with your insides. Never mind. A smart leader always has a backup plan at the ready. That’s what won me Canterlot, after all...”

She closed her eyes, setting her horn aglow, like a homing beacon.

Not too long after, the double doors were promptly kicked open and a pair of young, stout Changeling nymphs, both of them decked out in mismatching Canterlot designer clothing, entered the throne room. At the sight of the pair, all the guards, even the bulkier females, edged away one step, scrunching their snouts.

The first colt had eyes only for the expensive hoofheld game controller in his green aura, levitating before his face. He barely glanced up from it as he and the other languidly marched up towards her throne.

“You called us, Aunt Chryssie?” he asked, in a bored, slurred tone.

Chrysalis flashed them an indulgent smile. “Ahh... Hopper, Weevil, my favourite nephews.”

“Hopper’s your nephew, Mom,” the second colt grunted indignantly. “I’m your son.”

His remark caused her to blink, genuinely confused. “Hmm?”

She resumed stroking her chin to think for a moment, recalling her many, many spawn, of whom several now took up residency in this castle with their Big Momma, their friends, cousins, cousins-siblings, or whatever. Changeling relationships were, to say the least, not as clean-cut as ponies’. The whole Swarm was like one massive, inbred clan, everyling someone else’s cousin at the very least.

Her memory settled on the name ‘Weevil’, and it clicked. Yes, of course, her sixth Weevil. An indolent butterball who’d never take off that filthy hoodie of his. Little brat’s egg had nearly split her ovipositor in half while she was pushing it out. It was the only time she’d come close to experiencing what a mare’s labor must feel like.

“Oh yes, Weevil dear, how could I possibly forget the son who’d almost torn me in half like a phone book? Come here, sweeties, I’ve got a present for you both.”

Hopper rubbed his snotty muzzle as they walked down the long red carpet. “Is it a new Gamecolt, Aunt Chryssie? Cuz this one’s bunk!”

Much to Chrysalis’ amusement, she heard Zecora hiss from the pole next to the throne. And well the zebra might. In this day and age, with parents raising their precious grubs to be brought up owning everything they hadn’t, Changeling nymphs had everything dropped onto their laps from the day of hatching.

If critics of her rule had thought she, the Queen, took a lot for herself, they hadn’t waited until these kids arrived on the scene. Now, of course, Zecora knew better. But, once and for all, there was nothing neither that ruddy quagga, or anyone else, could do about it.

Chrysalis licked her lips in anticipation of the kids’ response to her news.

“Oh no, sweetie, Aunt Chryssie’s got you something even better...” She gestured to the beach ball of a pony still tied to the chair. “I’ve got you your very own pony.”

Hopper and Weevil’s eyes widened in shock, the former even torn away from his Gamecolt for a moment. Their own pony! Young Changelings normally didn’t get their very own pony until they came of age. They looked up and down the enormous pink blob in awe.

Weevil prodded Pinkie’s deep, soft mass. “This one? She’s yuuuge!”

“Yes, Weevil,” Chrysalis said affirmatively. “Perfect for a pair of young colts like you. She cannot fight, can’t protest, can’t even move.”

“So…” Hopper wondered, picking up a piece of stray pastry off the messed-up marble floor. “Who does she belong to?”

“Both of you. You’ll have to share her. She’s your huge pony.”

“WHAT!?”

“I’m not sharing with him!” Hopper shrieked, digging his hooves possessively into the pink beach ball’s taut skin. “I want my own pony!” Then the colt caught sight of the bound, gagged and blindfolded unicorn whose head was sticking out from between his aunt’s thighs. “Ooh! Ooh! How about Weevil gets the pink one, and I get Bluey?!”

Beneath her, Blueblood had a fit of panic.

He began tossing his head left and right, his gag muffling his fillyish shrieks of terror until Chrysalis’ comforting hoof brushed the tuff of his mane. She knew where he was coming from. Maybe he could not see them, but he could recognize their voices from a mile away. These wre the same little beasts who had drawn on his face with permanent marker while playing ‘painters’, or who shaved off his entire coat when they played ‘barbershop’.

With this in mind, Chrysalis waggled her hoof dismissively. “No. You’ll have to learn to share the pink one between you first. Do that, and maybe I’ll get you each your own.”

A flash of green from her horn, and Pinkie was released from the dentist's chair. As the mare’s legs had all receded into her tight, spherical blob of a body, which can only tilt continuously to and back on the same spot, making her dizzy.

“Now,” Chrysalis intoned, “you boys go and bounce around with your new toy outside. Just please don’t poke her with anything sharp... or do. Whatever, I don’t care.”

Weevil squealed happily as he flew atop of Pinkie’s belly-body, his own considerable weight steadying him. Hopper, still grossly offended that he’d have to share his new gift, angrily threw his cruddy Gamecolt on the floor and halfheartedly clung onto as much pink, soft fur as he could grab.

The pony beach ball that was once Pinkie Pie could only let out a faint, muffled whimper as the colt on top log-rolled her and his cousin out of the throne room, powerless to stop whatever these two devil offspring had planned for her.

Chrysalis chuckled fondly, hoof over barrel. “Such little charmers, aren’t they?,” she asked no-one in particular. “They’ll make one of their cousins very happy one day, I know it.”

Fluttershy let off another little whimper from up above, but Zecora had been observing all this without a murmur, through hooded eyes blazing daggers at the Changeling Queen, the only real mark of her emotions an occasional twitch of the lip.

Thanks to her keen sense of sight, Chrysalis, at last turning her attention back to the last, and the best, out of the three she’d promised to make pay dearly for their defiance, spotted a lump rising in the zebra’s throat, though her captive fought it down bravely.

The nervous shift in Zecora’s freshly-unchained hooves did not escape her notice, either. Naturally. Separated from the captured rebel leader only by a width of carpet and a hollowed-out tunnel, a dragon waited in his pit to be fed. But, as any fool could tell, such fate, though fearsome, would be too quick for the likes of traitors.

And Zecora must have known that, somehow, something else was coming her way.

“What, darling?” Chrysalis enquired in an oily voice. “Giving me the silent treatment, are you? Don’t expect me to feel put off by it in any way. The less I hear of your silly rhymes, the better. And I do like my Blueblood when he’s not heard, or see, only… mhmmm, felt, how comfy.”

She swayed back-and-forth on her cushion, prior to glancing down. “It’s that lucky time of day for you, honey. The moment when for a fleeting instant, you get to pretend it’s really you on that throne. Just don’t get any ideas about removing those bounds.”

Blueblood, as ever, said nothing. Purring sibilantly, Chrysalis stood up.
“What to do with you, I wonder?” she mused. “Poor wretch, what could you possibly offer me, to enhance my sense of well-being, I who’ve got everything... who can change into anything?

Light, blinding, sickly green light, so bright Zecora and even a few guards were forced to cover their eyes, invaded the spacious room.

“Zecora, Zecora,” Chrysalis’ voice, in a whisper, echoed from somewhere behind the zebra, the poisonous brightness concealing her from all.

Yet, by the sound of hoofsteps bearing down upon marble, they’d know their Queen had not left them, nor would she ever.

“I must admit,” she began slowly. “I always did find it a little strange that, when Celestia and Luna were cast down, Shining Armor and Mi Amore Cadenza taken as my prisoners, the next figure whom ponies should turn to… was you. What do you owe them, anymore than I owe? They called Ponyville the ‘friendliest town in Equestria’, yet where was that, whenever you came into town? Not even your two, oh, how sadly ill-fated associates, those paragons of good cheer and heart, were willing to take a step towards you in friendship. And why? Because you came from the Everfree Forest.”

As the green light faded, a mare circled around Zecora, into the captive’s line-of-sight, and the mare was none other than Fluttershy, shaking her head in with uncharacteristic derision.

“Look where that got her. Oh, ponies say they stand for love and friendship, but they only share it amongst themselves. But I ask you, how different are you and I from ponies? Doth we not walk on four legs, eat the same herbs, delight in the same tasty treats? Yes, I know, to you, too, my appearance might seem odd, frightening. We didn’t come from their cosy, comfortable world, Zecora. Just as my power to change is my defense, so too back home, your stripes would hide you from hungry eyes, out in the grass of the plains.”

Fluttershy’s features rippled, morphed into those of Pinkie’s. But this Pinkie Pie’s smile was neither a thing of warmth nor happiness, merely hungry, uncaring glee. Her snake-like tongue flicked out, feeling the air.

“You love them. I can taste it. How sweet of you. Yet I can offer so much more. Give up this foolish attachment to the weaklings, choose to make them pay for how they’ve wronged you in the past. Not all my brood are as crude as my son and nephew. All you need is give yourself up to a male’s embrace, and let your shared dominance over the vanquished oppressor fuel your passions! I’d even give you one of my older, handsomer sons.”

And then, Zecora was staring back into her own eyes.

”That’s all I ask, little zebra.”

The fallen leader of the rebellion just stood there, a dry, unimpressed scowl on her face as she listened to Chrysalis spout what all present knew to be a heaping load of tosh. Some well-worded and articulate tosh, but tosh nonetheless.

Zecora inhaled a deep breath through her nostrils, choosing her words very carefully before parting her lips, hoof held up to her overbite.

“You’ve got a piece of apple, stuck in your teeth. Horseapple!”

The serene smiling expression did not leave Chrysalis’ face even as she clicked her tongue. “So be it, quagga.”

A vice-like force gripped Zecora by the neck, cutting off her airways instantly, and she was lifted once more into the air. Her hooves flew over her throat as if she could physically pry the Queen’s magic away, but to no avail. There came a small, muffled snapping sound, as her forelegs got magically constricted to her sides, leaving only her hindlegs free to kick aimlessly.

Chrysalis, looking like herself again, kept on smiling peacefully. “You know what, Zecora? I’ve tried so very hard to be nice. To play Celestia and be the warm, merciful leader you ponies love so much. I even offer you one of my boys, yet still you continue to defy me. Well, what do you say we just skip right ahead and buck that noise?”

Zecora’s puffed-up cheeks turned crimson, her head lolling to one side.

“Truthfully, Zecora... yes, the Queen of the Changelings being truthful, I know…” Chrysalis chuckled nastily. “I was planning to punish you whether you joined me or not. You hurt my Changelings, you’ve denigrated my throne and you’ve tried to undermine everything I’ve worked nearly a millennia for. And a good Queen cannot simply forgive such transgressions.”

The spell choking Zecora suddenly stopped.

Greedily, the hapless zebra’s lungs sucked in all the precious oxygen they could handle. She still could not move her forelegs from her sides, though. Which left her utterly vulnerable to what Chrysalis had in store for her. A green glow reflected off the corner of her eye. Alerted, Zecora looked down and saw that it was her stripes, lit up like a tree on Hearthswarming..

“Now this, Zecora…” Chrysalis said, tenderly stroking her, “this I had to spend weeks thinking over in my study. I kept asking myself, ‘what matters most to a zebra?’. What could I possibly take away from you that I haven’t already taken from you and everyone else in this forsaken land? And then, oh, one night... it all just clicked.”

Horrified realization dawned upon Zecora’s face at the Queen’s touch, running delicately over the illuminated stripes decorating her coat and accentuating her curves. Yes, she could read that toothy smile of Chrysalis’ like a foal’s book. Just as planned.

Chrysalis’ forehoof came to a rest on a large strip of her thigh. “Your precious stripes.”

Zecora’s eyes widened to the size of large dinner plates. Her lower jaw trembled and she desperately shook her head. She could offer no protest other than to flail her free hindlegs like a drunken ballerina.

“No... no, pl—”

A loud, fleshy ‘rip’! Zecora’s screams of pain only rang louder in the hollow throne room. The guards physically recoiled at the sounds of both. Fluttershy trembled up high in her cage, curled up into a ball with her wings shielding her eyes.

Tears spring from Zecora’s eyes as she looked back and forth from the naked grey spot on her thigh to the huge black stripe Chrysalis dangled teasingly in midair.

“Aww, now that didn’t hurt too much, did it, Zecora?” she asked in that nauseating fake maternal tone

Zecora gritted teeth and glared daggers at her, cold sweat pouring down her face.

“BUCK YOU!”

RIP! Off tore another stripe and her shrieks continued.

More and more stripes followed, each one as severely agonizing as the last until, in a grim finale, every remaining slither of black were collectively torn off her body at once. By that point, Zecora’s throat had turned red from screaming and her head hung lifelessly as she tried to catch her breath. Her whole body, quivering and drenched in sweat, felt like it was on fire.

The stripes flew around in the air, encircling Chrysalis like a murder of crows until they soared down and each attached themselves to her lithe body.

Zecora was allowed to drop to the cooled stone floor and curl up in a trembling fetal position. Her forelegs were freed to move once more, but for the longest time, she just could not bring herself to shift from her spot, her muscles reduced to jello from the experience. Only Chrysalis’ looming shadow spurred her to lift her head.

The Swarm Tyrant’s back arched in the most malevolent, cruelest of laughter and her hooves caressed her sides up and down. Her chitin was now painted in sickly green glowing stripes… Zecora’s stripes!

Gathering the courage to let her eyes trace down her own body, what Zecora saw shook her to her core.

Her entire body was pale grey. Not a single stripe left to be seen. She was completely... naked! Stripeless as the day she was born!

Chrysalis, still reveling in her new stolen look, could barely withhold a giggle as she remarked, “I’ve gotta say, Zecora, between the two of us... these stripes look a lot better on me.”

Zecora let out a horrified gasp as her face lit up bright pink and her ears pressed firmly against her skull. She desperately tried to cover her shame from the changelings who were now all pointing and snickering at her.

Her beloved stripes. What made her a zebra. All gone. Stolen! Paraded around by a disgusting bugpony like they were some new fashion accessory.

Tears brimmed her eyes. Her face quickly turned from pink to as red as a ripe tomato. Their cruel laughter continued to ring in her ears, drowning out every frantic thought racing through her head, except one.

A distressed, heart-broken wail escaped her trembling lips, the now former zebra spun on her hooves and sprinted passed the guards and down the red carpet. She did not care for the fact that they would most definitely come after her or that she had nowhere to go, the shame, the humiliation, the embarrassment she felt outweighed any rational thinking. She could not bear being seen ‘naked’ a second longer.

The guards, laughter subsiding, prepared themselves to chase after her, until Chrysalis held up a hoof.

“No, no, let her go, my changelings,” she tenderly ordered them, resuming her seat on her throne. “She can wallow in her humiliation for now. Not like she’s got anywhere to escape to. Just make sure she doesn’t leave the palace.”

The Changeling Queen leant back, allowing herself a minute to bask in her triumph, all the better for the guards to see and admire her new stripes. Forehooves clasped, Chrysalis idly lifted a hindleg, to polish the sole of her rear hoof against the lever activating the trapdoor to the dragon pit.

“Ahh… what a wonderful day this has been,” she breathed in, contentedly. “But, as dear Miss Rarity may have said, it needs the perfect ending for it to be perfect. Lads, ladies, I trust you’ve been enjoying the show.”

None of the four guards responded immediately, the females included, too chuffed were they to get directly spoken to like this. However, this quickly subsided, but whereas a female in Chrysalis’ Guard might have kept it simple and professional, a male couldn’t leave it there. It was a male guard who, flustered, answered to her face.

“Oh, most certainly, Your Majesty!” spluttered the guard who’d tasted her songbird’s mane. “There’s never, ever a dull moment in this guy’s life, with you around as ruler!”

“Toady…” she heard the second male mutter.

Not to be outdone, he spoke aloud and said, “Absolutely, ma’am. Your cleverness is exceeded only by your beauty, lovin’ the new look, by the way.”

Proudly, Chrysalis preened her new, marvelous, ill-begotten stripes, and even awarded this forward male guard with a mock bow.

“Thank you, thank you very much.” She stroked the dragon pit’s lever. “But, much as I know you’d adore basking in my radiant presence all day long, I understand a guard must lead a life outside their job. Hence, I give you all leave for the evening.”

Each of the guards blinked, then looked at each other, confused. Plainly, they had not expected this, and were unsure whether they should take it as a good surprise, or a bad one. The second guard was first to answer.

“Th-thanks, Your Majesty, it’s very gracious of you.”

He actually sounded intimidated, which gave her heart a little flutter. How delightful, that she had this hold over even her own people. But Chrysalis decided they needn’t remain anxious for too long. She was, after all, feeling supremely pleased about her life today, pleased enough to share some of that feeling with her loyal minions.

She coughed, almost demurely.

“Friendly tip, lads, gals,” Chrysalis told them amiably. “From what I hear, there ought to be a buffet opening up downstairs in the next quarter-of-an-hour. Hurry up, and you should catch the best bit. And, please, don’t be selfish, spread the word as you can... Just make sure my boys stay out of it, they’re a bit young for such a decadent show.”

One of the females, rather audaciously, raised an eyebrow at this.

“Forgive me, ma’am, but if food is involved, I doubt any guard could keep—”

“Oh,” Chrysalis interrupted her, “there is nourishment involved, but the pleasure here is for those who like to watch.”

She gave them a sly wink, taking back her seat on her throne.

This was when they got the idea. And it made them grin wickedly, male and female alike, who favoured their monarch with very low bows, those darling fiends.

“This’ll be a treat,” the other, usually brooding female guard spoke up. “You truly are the best.”

Chrysalis smirked. “I know that. Now, off you go, all of you. Front-row seats await.”

And sure enough, the four of them scuttled off eagerly, accompanied by the servants.

Thus Queen Chrysalis was left alone in the throne room with nought but Fluttershy and Blueblood for company. With a yawn, the Queen glanced toward the pegasus in her birdcage, her sobs and whimpers apparently spent.

“You, on the other hoof, don’t need to witness what’s up next for me,” Chrysalis told her. “Oh, no. Your innocent, tender heart could never cope with it.”

She magically summoned a drape, from her chambers, to cover the birdcage. “Here you go, this ought to protect your delicate sensibilities. In return, you do what I’ve put you in there for. Hum me a ditty, Fluttershy, something to set the mood. Something… warm, gentle.”

But no response emerged from behind the drape.

“Fluttershy…”

With an electric crackle, Chrysalis’ horn sparked menacingly. “I’m in a good mood tonight, and this is your first day on the job, so I’ll let your moment’s indolence slide. But keep in mind, that new home of yours is completely built out of metal. Do I make myself clear?”

The drape fluttered softly as an acquiescing, sad moan answered her threat.

“Such a lovely songbird,” Chrysalis said sweetly. “Now, how about some soothing music?”
With trepidation, Fluttershy started humming the sort of low-pitched, feminine wail used at the end of operas to denote the bittersweet nature of achievement after a long struggle. The Queen tittered at this, well aware it was the kind of music which ponies hoped they would be playing in a century to commemorate her regime’s fall.

Fat chance of that now.

She got up, gave her legs a stretch with a walk down the stairs to her throne, then back up, then down again, pacing to the centre of her red carpet, before turning around to consider Blueblood, still crouched in place.

“Alright, Prince Blueblood,” Chrysalis declared. “Affairs of court are done for the evening. You may now rise and stretch your legs, my sweetling. Come and join me. Listen only the sound of my voice.”

Ears flicking, but knowing better than to say a word, Blueblood slowly, gruntlingly, obtemperates, rising unsteadily on four hooves to march down the stairs, then the red carpet, obeying his summons to go and join his queen.

“Good, stop there, that’s the spot,” Chrysalis said as he closed in on her. “If you wish, you may lie on your back, you’ve earned a rest, after the good job you’ve done for me today. Go on, don’t be shy.”

Blueblood did stop, and, hesitating only briefly, did as told, awkwardly yet relievedly slumping upon the carpet and stretching himself out, eyes directed at Fluttershy's birdcage above, not that he could see her through his blindfold, only hear her song.

Chrysalis approached him, solemnly knelt down before him. Then, fondly, she began to give his exposed belly a rub. He gave a small, sharp gasp, tensed, relaxed. Despite the blindfold, it was obviously a struggle for him to keep from smiling at this unexpected affection.

“Mmh…” she purred. “I did say earlier you could do with a bit more fattening up, didn’t I? Ah, but it’s so, at times, that even the best of us can find ourselves, heh, eating our words… heh-heh-heh... You wouldn’t object if I sweeten you further, though, would you?”

Slowly, Blueblood shook his resting head.

Horn alight, Chrysalis called for the decanter of wine. While doing so, she traced her belly-rubbing forehoof, gradually, in small circles, all the way up Blueblood’s stomach, his chest, his neck, before coming to a stop below his ear, feeling at the edges of the gag still covering his mouth.

Using her other forehoof, she reached behind his head, gently pulling him forward to cradle his face against her barrel, and manually began untying the knot holding his gag in place. With a flourishing sweep, it came off. So refined was the silken material that it gently floated towards the carpeted floor, landing in a graceful spiral.

Having quickly given Blueblood’s well-groomed mane a ruffle, Chrysalis magically pressed her personal decanter to his exposed lips. Except for a brief, startled twitch, he went along with this most willingly, allowing her to pour a whole pint of love wine down his glugging throat. A pink trickle of the liquid streamed past the corner of his mouth.

Chrysalis giggled girlishly. “Ooh, yes, my prince, taste that, it’s the taste of success. Never let it be said I’m an inconsiderate ruler. Whatever else happens, I do mean to show appreciation for the services you’ve rendered unto me… as ole Cellie might have put it.”

At last, she pulled away the decanter. Although, contrary to the overstuffed Pinkie from earlier, Blueblood hadn’t grown much bigger, she’d clearly drowned him with enough wine to make him fit to burst.

His head lolled back-and-forth against her barrel, and he grinned crookedly, doped.

“Yes, that’s right. Cultivate those feelings,” Chrysalis said quietly, stroking his mane. “Until I came along, you never loved anyone as you loved yourself, Prince Blueblood. But I am not oblivious to reality. Even this infatuation you’ve developed for me is a misshapen, lumpy thing.”

She nuzzled Blueblood’s forehead.

“Your dear aunt,” Chrysalis sighed. “That minx, she had big plans for you, did you know? Although she’d have left you the final choice in the matter, she was hoping to… set you up, help you find love, with some gold-digging, ego-bloated carnival illusionist, I believe. Ah, what could have been…”

With the utmost care, she unraveled the blindfold, revealing a slightly glazed, yet eager-looking pair of icy-blue eyes.

“Up. I’ve got a surprise for you, Bluey, if you’ll just indulge my busy mouth a while longer.”

Blissfully, Blueblood raised himself, even though, senses addled by the love wine, he was having more trouble than ever stopping himself from swaying. When, eventually, she lent him a helping forehoof, she ended up having to keep him from toppling onto her.

“Whoops, steady there, sailor,” Chrysalis chuckled. “But you are feeling it, aren’t you? Condensed love. A sensation which makes all others feel, in some way, pleasurable, even the painful ones. Because I do appreciate you, heavens help me. It’s why I permitted you to wear a blindfold, so you needn’t face your shame. Still, I want you to look at me now.”

He did so, staring worshipfully into her eyes. Her serpentine tongue flicked out.

“Good… you like what you see…” Chrysalis exhaled lustfully. “Please, try holding onto to that image in your mind. Mercy forbid your last thoughts of me be fear and hatred, like those wretches I punished tonight. This is no punishment, dearie.”

She paused, sighed. “You never had what it’d take for a proper ruler. Too full of yourself, too much of a fool. Celestia herself did mean for you to find happiness some other way, except, how sad, that path is no longer open to you. My fault, really. And I, in spite of everything, have my responsibilities. Ensuring no-one in my kingdom goes hungry being a top priority.”

At the sound of these words, Blueblood’s tongue lolled out further.

… So taken in was the poor sap, he did not notice that Queen Chrysalis’ horn had discreetly come aglow.

“And you wouldn’t want to disappoint me in my duties, would you?”

Blueblood shook his head, grinning like a pumpkin.

“Sweet prince after all.” To his surprise, she let go of his forehoof, and trotted behind him, leaving the still-intoxicated stallion to gaze cluelessly at the long red carpet stretching ahead. “I’ll miss you. Goodbye, Blueblood.”

Queen Chrysalis planted a kiss on the pony prince’s nape. And her horn’s magic pulled at the lever by her throne, opening the hidden trapdoor.

Temporarily, it might have looked as though Blueblood was reprieved, for the trapdoor didn't come open beneath him, but inches away from his prone forehooves. Yet she, the cunning, remorseless temptress that she was, had anticipated this.

From behind, facing away from him, Chrysalis reared up, then right back down again, as, with a mighty kick, her powerful hooves bucked out and impacted against Prince Blueblood’s unsuspecting rump, sending him teetering over the edge, falling into the pit.

… As promised, the love wine had its effect. There were no screams.

Returning to her now-vacant throne, Chrysalis eased herself in as well she could, now she had thrown away her cushion for the greater good. She kept an ear open for any noises emanating from the still-open entrance to the pit.

Eventually, they came.

First the delighted roar of a great dragon. Then the obscure sounds of scuffling about and clinking chains, not many, as its prey was too dazed and sedated for any attempt at escape. Something much like one or two ‘cracks’ reached her ears. Presumably, the beast squeezed a bit too hard when it seized its meal in its claws. Finally, there were a few crunching noises.

Then silence fell. Followed by, lastly, a rich, majestic, contented belch.

And cheers and applause from her guards in the audience.

Chrysalis cackled gleefully. “So, enjoy your meal, Spikey-Wikey?” She got no answer, but then she had not expected one. “Fluttershy? I didn’t give you permission to cease your tune.”

From up above, Fluttershy let out a heavy-hearted little sigh, and resumed her song. “~Nopony knows, the trouble I’ve seen…”

Chrysalis pressed a hoof to her forehead. “Oh, good grief.”

Two months onward, with the rebellion shattered, peace and stability had returned to the Changeling Queendom of Equestria. Now that economic reconstruction well underway and foreign relations were being re-established with the former principality’s neighbours and allies, for the first time in over a year, Equestria and its residents had a future to look ahead to.

The pony population, though their position as the beta species in this world was solidified, were witnessing their lives gradually improve under their new Changeling masters. Equestrian towns and villages were allowed to continue to exist and prosper, even if they were basically pens for love cattle, for Changelings to come and harvest at their leisure. It would not be long before remnants of the Everfree rebellion or anti-Chrysalis sentiment faded into obscurity.

Naturally, it was the Changelings whose quality of life saw the most drastic improvement. Having lived generations in the harsh deserts of the Badlands, the Changelings, by their Queen’s grace, had been gifted with a whole new world full of fruits and treasures they’d done nothing to earn or deserve. No nymph born since the Canterlot Wedding had any inkling what hunger was like, and their parents worked to make sure they never did. They occupied every position of business and government, in which they would lay down the groundwork for the Age of the Changeling, designed to last ten thousand years, give or take a few centuries.

“Apologies for not being able to provide more... luxurious sitting arrangements, Magreb,” Her Royal Majesty herself told her esteemed guest for tonight. “I did used to have the full... ‘princely’ set until a couple months ago.”

Without the threat of rebels hidden in the forests, Chrysalis finally had the long-awaited chance to relax. She’d prance around her palace nowadays with her muzzle held high, always flanked by her trusted guard and toadies, flaunting her alluring stolen stripes at every opportunity for all to see. In between attendance to her royal duties, she’d frequent the royal spa daily to receive the high maintenance she required. To her, it could not be called vanity when you were truly this drop-dead gorgeous.

And the dignitaries from Saddle Mareabia found it hard to disagree.

The royal throne room has been decked out this evening for their special visit. The colours of each nation hung from the walls, long tables full of delicacies were set up for the attendees to partake in. As for music, a low thump-thump of Equestriabeat could be heard pounding in all ear drums. The piece de resistance, though, was a ludicrously large disco ball on the ceiling, which showered the darkened room in twinkling blue light and half-moon projections.

Nobody noticed Chrysalis let off a little smirk at the sight of the disco ball, too absorbed were they by her sitting on her throne, scantily clad in a green ‘dress’ that put her lovely stripes on full display.

“The arrangements are more than adequate, Your Majesty, rest assured,” Magbred replied, not particularly bothered as he inhaled shisha from his hookah. “I’m only slightly disappointed that your famous songbird will not be available to sing for us this evening.”

Prince Magreb, one of hundreds of Saddle Mareabian princes and the assigned diplomat to Equestria, sat upon the lower-positioned throne to Chrysalis’ right, enjoying the comfort of his special silk cushion and hoofrest, along with his cohort, the Saddle Mareabian Ambassador. He gestured meaninfully toward the open, empty birdcage in the corner of the room.

“Sadly not, no,” Chrysalis said, sounding regretful, for a wonder. “She has been let out to perform her regular exercise. After all, last thing I want is for the poor darling to get fat cooped up in that cage. Not to worry, we have plenty of visual splendor to make up for it. Have you ever laid eyes upon a flutterpony before?”

She, in turn, pointed across the newly-converted ‘dance floor’, where right beneath the humongous disco ball stood a huge, pony-sized jar on a mounted stage. Inside the jar, chained by her hindleg to a heavy black ball, was a white unicorn with a splendid purple mane and a pair of beautiful butterfly wings spurting out from her back.

A most pretty little thing, she was, a frightened blush highlighting her white cheeks with embarrassment from all the eyes leering at her. Yet still she danced slowly and sensually for the guests’ delight, enticing them with every majestic twist and bat of her wings. She knew of the consequences if she stopped for one moment.

Magreb enjoyed what he saw, a lot, dapperly twirling his black beard, an insidious smile stretching from one ear to the other. He leaned in towards to Chrysalis, hiding his devious grin behind his raised chalice.

“Could you perhaps…” he whispered, “...extend my invitation for this ‘flutterpony’ to join me in my suite tonight? I’d be most interested in letting her lull me to sleep...”

“Why, I’m sure she would be honoured, Magreb,” Chrysalis said, grinning deviously also. “And if you like, I’ll have the necessary spell cast, and hey presto, one dazzling miniature flutterpony for your night-light! Speaking of, the show’s highlight approaches, the big moment you've all been waiting for. I’d say this warrants popping the real drinks.”

She summoned the serving-girls for a brand-new decanter of finest love wine, pulling out an ornamental corkscrew for her to personally unstopper the bottle with. Though focused on the flutterpony-in-a-jar onstage, Magreb caught a glimpse of the screw from the corner of his eye.

“That’s quite the decorative implement you’ve got there, Your Majesty.”

“Like it? Hah, I knew someone would know to appreciate its aesthetic quality!” She held up the corkscrew for him to contemplate. “Yeah, figured the old boy was going to waste, left outside in the gardens to gather dust. Sure, Celestia gave him stature, but if you ask me, small yet practical, that’s the key.”

Magreb peers closer at the corkscrew, a miniaturised version of Discord’s pertrified form, as Chrysalis used his dragon-like stone tail to unstopper the bottle.

“Nifty little tool you’ve fashioned for yourself,” he commented.

Chrysalis nodded smugly. “And multi-purpose, not unlike those special knives they make up in the Yodelling Mountains. Such befits the Lord of Chaos.”

A demonstration felt in order, once she’d gingerly pulled out the cork and, in a spark of magic, slipped it off the corkscrew. After rapidly passing her tongue over her lips for bread crumbs or other remains of food, she held aloft the pointy tail-end of the miniaturised Discord, and began picking her teeth with it.

If her guest was disgusted by this, he showed no sign. Instead, Magreb kicked himself back, picking an olive off a tray carried by a nearby serving-girl, and beckoned for a refreshment of love-flavoured ice-cream, letting the girl know she ought to open up the ice-box.

Neither Chrysalis nor her guest spared a second glace for the figure trapped in a block of ice within the massive ice-box, the former Princess Cadance, her coat tinging the crystallized icy surface in a tinge of pink. As far as either was concerned, so long as she continued lending the refreshment its juicy flavour, keeping her alive for that alone was reason enough.

“Not long to wait, now.”

Chrysalis smiled as the serving-girl closed the lid, cutting from sight Cadance and the stricken look she gave them. Meanwhile, the flutterpony-in-a-jar had concluded her routine, earning much acclaim from the crowd, though she barelyhad time to take a bow before her jar was hauled away backstage, and a curtain fell across the platform.

Thus the Queen reclined her head back against the top of her throne, comfy from still owning the other item from her ‘princely’ set. Perched there was Shining Armor, hooves bound and mouth gagged, if only as a precautionary measure. His eyes had shone green for months.

“Ah, that disco ball,” Chrysalis sighed contentedly, staring up at it anew. “Heh, took a while to devise one large enough to hold a full-sized mare, but worth every bit of it, for the lunar radiance it provides. No-one here is ever alone at night, just as Luna wished for. Aren’t I the sweetest? And it’s made for indefinite residence. Sadly, my songbird couldn’t last a month in confined quarters all the time, let alone a thousands years. Which is why I let my guards take her out to… stretch her wings every once in a while.”

“Oh, I’m sure they do.”

Something akin to a warm, kind expression lit up Chrysalis’ devilish face.

“Trust me, Magreb, the first thing you should learn about my court is, you don’t ever know quite what to expect…”

Away from the hustle of the party, the Castle Gardens were well-suited to some private time.

“Yes, young prince,” the obsequious male guard said, “you wouldn’t think so to look at her, the frail, puny thing, but Fluttershy is quite the fast girl, she is. Still think my colleague can compete with your cousin?”

Weevil crossed his forehooves in a sulk. “It’s just not fair, never! How does she do it, with all the extra weight on her! C’mon, you peasant! You’ve got Pinkie Pie! Put your back into it!”

“Trying my best, sir!” called the quieter male guard, wheezing from exertion.

Opposite, Hopper rode a visibly struggling and sweaty Fluttershy. She was making all the effort for the two of them, her pink mane dishevelled, while he could keep his wings folded idly upon his bulk as they hovered above the lawn. From behind, he tugged at her reins, sharp.

And succesfully brought her to block the goal, diving in the path of the oncoming beach ball.

Lazily, Hopper raised a forehoof and punched the ballooned-up figure of Pinkie Pie back all the way she’d come from. Bloated, yet as defiant of conventional physics as ever, the great pink ball that used to be a party pony arced across the playing field, a good shot. But the now-panting guard, desperate to make good on his word, leapt forward and, just barely, caught her before she could touch down on the grass.

“HAH!” he sneered, triumphantly, holding up the enormous Pinkie with effort. “See what lightning-fast skills, honed to perfection by training, will do for a full-grown stallion, colt!”

A whine escaped Weevil as he pulled at his hoodie. “You caught her! You weren’t supposed to CATCH her! You didn’t score us a SINGLE goal this round!”

“Whoa, easy there, kid,” the first guard admonished him, uncharacteristically. “Still a better show than when it was your turn. Thought you were being clever, did you, asking to ride Fluttershy first so she’d be get exhausted by the time she had to carry your cousin, did you?” He chuckled unpleasantly. “Lesson is, never underestimate the competition, lad.”

Unbeknownst to any of the Changelings, a ruffle in the bushes caught Fluttershy’s attention. She glanced toward it. A pink nose emerged, followed by a pair of beady back eyes, and she had to stifle a gasp. It was her former pet rabbit, Angel, staring at her non-plussed. While the Changelings argued heatedly, she threw a pleading look his way.

He seemed to consider it. Then, with what may be the slightest of nods, he disappeared again.

Back at the throne room of Canterlot Royal Palace, before Magreb could say anything more, all other lights went out entirely, and every ear in the crowd of assembled Changelings and ponies perked up, every eye turned towards the vacated stage. In this moment of anticipation, the emcee took to the microphone before the sole remaining patch of light.

Licking her lips, Chrysalis savoured in advance what she knew was coming.

“Ladies and gentlefolk,” the emceee announced. “And now, here comes that scene you’ve all been waiting for. The climax of our evening full of enticement and excitement. Served up for the delectation of your all-devouring eyes. She’s tall, she’s beautiful, she’s exotic. I give you… Grayscale!”

The curtains drew apart to reveal a shiny, rounded metal bar onstage, rising from the centre of the platform to the canopy above. Before this gleaming pole stands a grey, equine silhouette on two rear hooves, suggestively clutching at it with her forehooves.

This mare known as Grayscale was an absolute bombshell, gifted with a generous set of curves and a firm, well-rounded rump. Finely-toned muscles bulged underneath her smooth, namesake grey coat, giving her the appearance of an Amazonian warrior princess who could effortlessly a pony’s neck like a twig. Yet while such strength might look unattractive on a lesser mare, Grayscale wore it seamlessly, with an air of savage, intoxicating elegance.

Sultry, ‘exotic’ music began playing in the background.

And accordingly, the grey dancer broke into the enticing dance moves expected of her, much to the express delight of the audience. Already there were a few catcalls and outright wolf whistles as she sensuously trailed a muscular foreleg up the pole, while throwing her long, flowing grey mane back in a graceful, curved arc.

Chrysalis took another sip of her drink, absent-mindedly squeezing the pillowcase that was Shining Armor to make more room for her shoulders, tastefully exposed as they were above the cut of her green dress. It was with a discrete, fleeting affection that the Queen observed her guests, subjects and staff alike lapping up the show she had put on for them.

Quite a show, indeed. Suffice to say, as hoped for, Grayscale was making a right splash on her premiere performance. Putting her skills to use, the exotic dancer executed a series of increasingly complex, provocative twists and twirls around her pole. Half the audience was left awestruck how one equine could be so flexible, while the other half was left enamoured by those swinging hips and buttocks, shaking and bouncing without end before their hungry eyes.

Every now and then, a coin or two got tossed onstage, occasionally striking Grayscale square on her rump, upon which she’d bend forward until she was grinning at the lucky camper through her spread legs, wiggling her hoof admonishingly at them.

… But, for the Changeling Queen, the best part was, despite all the hoots and adulation, which bespoke of a success that promised Greyscale a bright future in this profession, Chrysalis knew how, beneath the brash attitude she had trained the dancer to project, the mare inside was well and truly brought to heel.

As Grayscale’s winning, pearly-white smile said one thing, a small, sad glint in her eyes spoke the truth. Chrysalis was alone in looking for it, as everyone else saw what they wanted to see. Except, it appeared, for Magreb, who turned to the Queen, scrutinising her stripes thoughtfully.

“Your new look, Your Majesty…” he began slowly. Then he paused, swirled his drink, and chose to take a puff from his hookah. “These others, these decadent fools, their minds may be focused on one spot only, but I have a keen sight, sharpened, not blinded, by the desert sun. Those stripes, your trophy performer up there… why, they belonged to her, did they not? She is no pony.”

Pleased at his perspicacity, Chrysalis subtly raised her chalice at him.

“Well done, sir, well spotted,” she congratulated him. “No more a pony than I am. My dear Magreb, you are looking there at none other than Zecora of the Everfree, formerly leader of the thwarted Everfree Resistance to my rule, now my loyal and devoted slave.”

Magreb glanced back at ‘Grayscale’, in the midst of hugging the pole, as she contorted to touch the back of her head with the sole of her rear hoof.

“A zebra’s stripes are their whole identity,” he mused. “uch as only an Equestrian pony’s mark could compare. This whole spectacle… how it must make her feel, so utterly ashamed…”

“Oh, you think?” Chrysalis tittered with relish. “As I said, Magreb, I’m a more subtle creature than it first seems. To all my good people watching, this is no more than an odd-looking earthpony, whose special talent is a knack for seductive dance. See that pole there? Word of her meditation sessions, balanced upside-down on her cane, are what lent me the idea. Delicious, wouldn’t you agree?”

Her guest made no reply, but, as his attention returned to the stripleless zebra’s forced dance, everything indicated that he privately agreed. Blowing softly through his lips, Magreb slouched further back on his couch, rubbing his rear hooves together.

“Keeping her alive, though… I understand the satisfaction, but isn’t it a little… risky?”

“Of course,” Chrysalis admitted. But unlikely. I’ve got this country wrapped around my hoof. And if there’s a chance of a new threat to my rule, well… bring it on. Makes life interesting.”

He glanced curiously at her. “More interesting than being able to savour the fruits of your victory like this?”

“No, but in a different way.”

Grayscale’s performance reached its climax, as with one last surge of effort, she wheeled down the pole, and skid across the polished dancefloor of the stage. The artist formerly known as Zecora took her bows, to be met with raucous applause.

The Queen raised her chalice, clinking it against Magreb’s in a toast of future partnership.

“My friend,” Chrysalis smiled triumphantly. “Though I may be no Celestia, let it not be said I am wanton in how I deal my hoof. My rule shall be of iron when needs be, yet while I’m Queen, the values of fun and joy, for those who earn them, shall not go amiss. Why else am I loved?”

As the evening concluded, the Saddle Mareabians’ icebreaker visit to the new Equestrian Queendom was proven a tremendous success. Prince Magreb would be returning or his homeland greatly impressed with what he’d seen, having promised he would speak highly on the Queendom’s behalf to his own King and Queen. With that knowledge, Chrysalis knew she was off to the best start on the world stage.

She strode into the spa that morning with her head and horn held high. All eyes were on her, wrapped in her fluffy white bathrobe made of freshly skinned polar bear, hooves snug in two pairs of pretty mink slippers and ears protected by a set of grey rabbit earmuffs. Pony attendants all ceased what they were doing to bow. Even the Changeling clan matriarchs in the middle of getting tissue massages hauled themsevles off the tables and dunked their heads to the floor.

Her Majesty had become quite the fashion trendsetter. You would be hard pressed to find any female in the city not slathered in a fresh new pelt. Only appropriate, considering how much the temperature was dropping as of late. Despite her cover, Chrysalis bristled as the shock of the morning clashed with the steamy atmosphere inside the spa, powered as it was by the constant efforts of the two strong mares running its treadmill, one a sturdy orange earthpony, the other a rainbow-maned pegasus with a fast pair of wings.

Not stopping to acknowledge the genuflecting matriarchs, she stomped her hoof, thus signalling for a couple of female pony attendants, twins, to follow her, and strutted off toward a purple metal door emblazoned in gold letters — H.M. Private Tanning Room.

Before the door, Chrysalis first discarded her bathrobe for the pink-coated attendant to catch before it fell to the ground. Then she carelessly flicked off her mink slippers for the blue-coated mare to pick up. When it came to the rabbit muffs, she took the pony firmly by the leg and gave her a steely looked in the eye.

“What’s your name, my little pony?” she demanded.

The attendant choked down a lump in her throat, uttering, “Aloe, Your Majesty.”

Chrysalis removed the muffs from her head and held them up to the attendant’s muzzle.

“Aloe, dear, you see these?”

“Yes, my Queen.”

“These earmuffs are grey,” she stated matter-of-factly. “Now, assuming you’re not colourblind, that just doesn’t go well with white polar bear and mink, does it?”

“No, my Queen,” Aloe answered, shaking her head.

“Good.” Chrysalis practically shoved the muffs into her chest and opened up the purple door, a wave of dry heat greeting her face. “I want a white pair skinned and presented to me by tomorrow morning. A Queen cannot afford to look unfashionable.”

The young mare did grimace at the prospect of a small animal being needlessly slaughtered, but she was smart enough to hold her tongue and bow her head.

“It will be done, my Queen.”

“Very good,” Chrysalis sneered as she stepped inside her tanning room. “No disturbances.”

She slammed the door shut. For the next half hour, the outside world was completely shut off. Just her and her dear, best friend.

Humming a giddy little tune, Chrysalis did up her mane into a tight ponytail, before plucking up the goggles laid out neatly on top of a cotton towel on the side. Strapping them on, she approached the enormous tanning bed which occupied most space in the middle of the room.

“Morning, Sunnybuns!” Chrysalis called chipperly, magically flipping open the violently bright canopy as she climbed inside, making herself comfortable on the bed before closing up.

Inside her snug metal cocoon, Chrysalis stretched out her legs as far as possible, ensuring she could absorb every last precious ray. Her grey chitin was now much tougher than it had been the day she first stepped hoof into Canterlot. It had taken on a darker tone too, and looked much slicker, shinier. Ergo, more attractive.

The warm air fried her nostrils as her chest rose up and down meditatively. A thin layer of sweat made her body glisten under the light.

No bumbling minions. No simpering ponies. This was what she deserved.

She creaked open one eye through the goggles, and met the magenta gaze of the alicorn staring back at her through a thick wall of glass.

“Mind turning it up a little?” she asked casually. “I don’t quite feel like I’m baking yet.”

Princess Celestia only glared at her in silence, unmistakable fury etched in her scowl. The mare above would have like nothing more than to fry this here overgrown bug into a Polyneighsian delicacy. The heavy, magical chains that kept her trapped behind her glass prison, however, encouraged her to comply with the Queen’s demands. Any great display of defiance would be met with unimaginable pain from the chain tightening around her body. Dark, very clever magic, of the kind which practically foresaw resistance before it happened.

Her once beautiful ethereal mane, now reduced to tufts of pink and green on her otherwise shorn head began to flare up, and her whole body illuminated itself in a blinding white glow. Cooing, Chrysalis basked herself in the intensified heat. Yes, now this was more like it.

“You know, Cellie...” she sighed, tranquility teeming in her voice. “I mean it when I say this, you by far make for the best sunlamp I’ve ever owned. I’m sweating impurities like a pig.”

“How fitting.”

Both of Chrysalis’ eyes snapped open in surprise, staring at the fallen princess. The chains had done nothing to prevent this insult. Yet as she thought it over, the less like a meaningful offense it felt, and she let a chuckle escape from her throat.

“Okay, you know what? I’ll let that pass. I think I owe you that one.”

In truth, Chrysalis had noticed the subtle changes to her physique. The way her thighs now rubbed against each other. How she could touch her stomach and feel it seep through the holes in her hoof. Or perhaps more tellingly, the way even her bouts of evil laughter seemed to leave her out of breath.

Yet, honestly, it didn’t bother her at all. Why should it? After a millennia of scrapping for love, catapulting her species up the food chain from bottom-feeding parasites to apex predators, finally they were the ones on top. If any creature in this world had ever earned the right to indulge herself, she was the one.

They could call Changelings all they liked, monsters, parasites, or as this disgruntled princess had seemed to prefer, pigs. She, Chrysalis, was the Queen of monsters, Queen of parasites, Queen of the pigs, and as long as she lived, ponies’ place now belonged in the swill bucket.

“Oh, Cellie,” Chrysalis sniggered. “This is how it’s gonna be, for a long, long time. A dream come true, my earliest dream. In the end, there was nothing you could do to stop me. But be proud of yourself for one thing. You still get to shine so bright.”

Speaking of, she just remembered she’d forgotten her ‘glaze’. Grumbling under breath, she turned her head and shrieked. "OIL!"

On cue, a harried-looking Aloe rushed in with a bottle of tanning oil. In a flash, she’d put it at the table next to the booth, bowed down to her queen, and scarpered, all within the space of five seconds flat.

Time passed, as it does, without either of the mares saying a word. For Chrysalis, this exquisite relaxation inside her tanning booth may have taken up a mere thirty minutes of her busy day; it was thirty minutes of utter bliss, just her in all her glory, alone with her greatest enemy now rendered powerless and subservient. Such a moment seemed to last eternity, until, of course, the moment came to an end.

A buzzer went off outside the booth.

Sighing, yet only from the slimmest disappointment, and otherwise out of pure contentment, Chrysalis pushed herself back on all four hooves, albeit with new effort. She was growing soft in her old age, no doubt, no doubt.

Having exited the booth, after giving her hooves a customary stretch, now came the time for her to freshen herself again. Almost absent-mindedly, the green aura of Chrysalis’ horn alit to pluck her favourite towel off the rack. Like everything else in this palace, a luxury item of her personal design. True, pure acid green was more her colour, not this shimmering mix of wavey pink, cyan and green. But who was she to complain of something so shallow as colour?

The silky, gossamer-like fibres taken from Celestia’s mane felt wonderful against her chitin.

“Aah… this is the life.”

Her ears picked up a low-pitched, feminine snarl from behind. Without looking around, Chrysalis kept towelling herself down with what used to be her arch-enemy’s famous hair.

“I don’t get you,” she grunted, shaking her head. “Honest, I don’t. You had everything, absolutely everything. Your people worshipped the ground you walked on. And despite that, when you could’ve played whatever game you wished with their lives, you chose to stuck with tedious old duty, all those tiresome, egg-headed researches… your ‘friendship lessons’.”

She finished wiping her briskets, gave a dismissive snort, and tossed her towel into the nearby laundry bin, ready for the servants to rinse and press it for a new day.

Then she heard the former princess’s voice speak up. And Celestia sounded almost… sly.

“A word of caution, Chrysalis. If I were in your position, I wouldn’t let myself get too fat for my carapace, although... that may be a little late for you.”

“Another weight remark, Cellie?” Chrysalis tut-tutted, unimpressed, giving a roll of her eyes beneath the goggles. “Is that really all you've got left?”

“Oh, I don’t have to do a single thing, my dear Chryssie. You’re more than capable of reaping your own undoing.”

“I doubt that.”

“I’ve lived a very long life, met far too many of your kind,” Celestia spoke softly, her own age coming through in her exhausted voice. “Believe me when I say you are nothing special. I’ll give you... twenty years, thirty more if you change your diet.”

“Aww, do let me guess...” Chrysalis snickered as she gave her depressed paunch a shake. “Heart attack? Stroke?”

“Not unless one of your little Changelings slices your belly open first,” Celestia said calmly. “You are alone, Chrysalis. One day, maybe thirty years from now, maybe tomorrow, you are going to wake up choking on the bile of your own depravity... and there’ll be no one around, no friendly hoof to hold your own.”

The statement was stark. Enough, for a second, to make the Changeling Queen pause, before Chrysalis forced out her standard haughty, arrogant laugh.

“You see, that’s the difference between you and I, Princess,” she said, sashaying her way over to the metal door, shaking her rump in one last boast on her way out. “You could never bring your people under heel. Mine, on the other hoof, actually belief I can read their reads and make their heads explode on a whim. That’s the difference. My people fear me far more than yours ever loved you. Chew on that for a while, tied before your next feeding.”

She hip-bumped the door shut behind her and the room was plunged into darkness.

But Chrysalis had not bothered to look around, let Celestia’s suddenly renewed defiance tip her off, too wrapped up was she in her own self-love. True, after all these dark months, chained inside this glorified prison cell, the Sun Princess could not help if despair’s icy grip had begun to worm its way towards her heart. Yet her sister had spent a thousand years’ solitude enduring worse. Equestria’s Royal Sisters were made of sterner stuff.

And right now, Celestia’s eyes, keener than any on this world, as befitted a mare who could look straight into the Sun and not flinch, were currently gazing down hopefully at a tiny, beady black pair, made bright by the reflection of her coat in the dark, a coat as white as her unexpected companion’s.

“Well, young fellow,” the Princess smiled wanly at Angel. “At one time, I wondered why Fluttershy chose you for a friend. So, having seen what it’s like, a land ruled by someone who cares only for themselves, will you live up to your name, and help me out?"