The Accursed Ancestryby Chocolate CherryChapters1. The Life of One Between Worlds2. The Early Life of One Seeking Acceptance3. The Life of One Who Has Long Travelled1. The Life of One Between WorldsThe dark brown pegasus came soaring through the air, screeching to a halt as she hit the ground. She had landed at the hooves of a Royal Guard. "Let me in!" she pleaded, looking him directly in the eye. "I have urgent business with the Princess of the Day, and I'm late!" "I understand, Miss," he replied stoically, "but you'll have to show me a certificate of authentication." He was unmoved, just standing there in his golden armor--despite her frantic attitude. His grey eyes never once blinked. The mare groaned and stamped the ground with one hoof. She began digging anxiously in her saddlebags. Thoughts were speeding through her mind as she did so. Why in Equestria did Canterlot have to be built on a stupid mountain? It takes so much exertion to even get to the forsaken place! And where's that document, for the love of Cadance? Being a pegasus had its downfalls. Unicorns got in easily, before you could even flap your wings, and Earth ponies...well, not that many of them actually took care of all their matters in the castle, but the ones who did usually had something to show for it, like a VIP ticket or a court order. "Alright, sir, here you go." At last, she pulled out her written authentication and identification, which contained the signature of the very pony she needed to get to. That pony had been her boss for the last six years now. The certificate was quite lengthy, and it took him a full ten minutes just to skim. The subject with whom it was concerned started to fidget with her long, odd turquoise mane, wishing it was more concise. "You may enter," he proclaimed, finally. The moment the words had left his mouth, the worried mare bolted past him. She was intent on making a beeline for Canterlot Castle. "Good luck with your espionage!" the white stallion yelled over his shoulder. The hurried pony only scoffed. Yeah, keep it down if you want me to have any, she thought. Maybe the guard understood the huge bags under her eyes now. She knew that they were there, althought she hadn't looked in the mirror yet today, unlike her favorite celebrity would have. She was the beautiful Element of Generosity, and worth reading about for her drama. Also, she compelled this pony to have more of that particular attribute. Once, the mare had bought a fashion magazine just because it had a picture of her in it--after all, she did dearly love Rarity's mane, albeit not the most important thing. Poof! The shock of being instantaneously teleported rang throughout her. Maybe it was just her pegasi heritage, but she had always been a little bit wary of anything to do with magic. The spy tried to look at her surroundings, but as soon as she caught sight of a familiar and pristine, alabaster alicorn standing in front of her, she quickly dropped down in a bow. Then, she brushed her quirky mane out of her face (the thin, red stripe and large, geometric cuts running through it made it so) and raced forward to face the princess. "My apologies, Your Majesty! Please, I can explain!" "It's alright, Cerise. I will only start our discussion once you have settled down. Have some tea, if you'd like." The alicorn's regal and tranquil voice echoed off the walls and high ceiling of the pleasant side room they were meeting in. Just as Cerise, full name Chocolate Cherry, was about to give her her written report, Celestia gently took it from her chocolate hoof with her pale yellow magic. Her flowing mane moved with her as she examined her findings. "Well, I must say you've done an excellent job," began the graceful princess. "Aside from that, I will get right to my point: I'm going to have to let you go," she sighed. Cerise's pupils, the left a deep purple, the right a lake blue, shrank majorly. "P-p-p-princess Celestia, what d-do you mean? I've worked for you for such a l-long time! It hasn't been an easy job, either! What-what've I done?" she stuttered fearfully. Celestia calmly cleared her throat. This has to be more difficult for her than it seems, Cerise thought, half hoping and half wishing. "Because, Chocolate Cherry, it's been confirmed that you are..." She trailed off, as if she'd hit something very hard to announce. "What please, Your M-m-majesty?" She was starting to tremble in dreadful anticipation. "You are, ahem, part...changeling." The last word sounded ugly coming from the mouth of one of Equestria's noble and gracious rulers. Cerise fainted instantly, to land on the ground with a rather loud clatter that shook all the teacups on the table. Several items spilled oit of her saddlebags, including reports, notes, tools a packet of dried fruit and a scrap of sheet music. The princess sighed again, placing her gilded hoof on the table. "She's usually able to withstand a lot. I guess telling her was too much." The world of the subject of her mention had shattered after she spole those words. Her mindset, viewpoint and her identity, which had fully formed on the assumption that her parents were pegasi, now lay crumbled, like the smoldering ashes of a fire that had burned brightly in the past. Unconcious though she was, Cerise knew she was left with nothing. Nothing, that was, except for a dizzying pain in the head. How did I end up in the orphanage in the first place, then? And why? She had come to. Presently, after standing up, she discovered she was on one of Canterlot's busy streets, her final payment--a bag of two hundred bits, coupled with a worthless "Best Wishes" card from Celestia--sticking out of her bag. She came to the conclusion that she'd passed out, or been teleported, or perhaps both. But then, she found herself thinking about the nightmares. Somehow, they had wormed their way into her mind, likely from her new and shocking revelation, although she preferred not to dwell on them when awake, if she could help it. Every night, for as long as Cerise could remember, she suffered from the endless horrors of her dreams--dreams where she turned into a barbaric changeling queen with no major emotions, only cold, hard senses and instincts. There seemed to be another side of her in dreams, an intelligent evildoer who insisted she was the true side of Cerise's personality, and that her own name, and Chocolate Cherry's real name was Chambya. She hated slumber for fear of that monster. As she continued to think about Chambya, a small question came to mind. Why has Princess Luna not saved me from my awful dreams? She would never shirk. But wait, what if they weren't dreams? She was part changeling, as terrible as it was. She was getting dangerously close to hyperventilating. To calm herself down, Cerise looked around Canterlot, at all the fancy stores, restaurants and artistic banners depicting the Two Sisters. She remembered hearing something about Rarity attempting to get her hooves on some beautiful, ancient tapestries from an old, ruined castle, to bring them out of hopeless disrepair with her magical, creative restoration skills. An old. Ruined. Castle, she thought. No, Cerise, don't think of dark things again. Ay, there are so many problems in my stupid life. At least there was a good spell for a little while, but--that's over now. When she was very young, too young to talk or remember what was happening, a beachcomber named Spiral Shell brought her to Canterlot's only orphanage (which presently didn't exist anymore) claiming to have found her floating hopelessly in the ocean. That mare proved to be very indecisive. After dropping little Cerise off, she returned and requested to adopt her, but no, then she changed her mind. She'd said that she wanted to be her foster parent. Anyway, Chocolate Cherry ended up staying with her and her family, under the incorrect title of foster foal, for nearly thirteen years. In fact, Spiral Shell was the one who had named her, inspired by her coat and cutie mark--a red triplet. Cerise reminded her of delicious candy-covered cherries. Eventually, Spiral moved to Ponyville with her real daughter, a filly she'd had about three years after Cerise came to her house. The now jealous pegasus was relocated to yet another orphanage, not too far from Canterlot, feeling usurped by the gorgeous Sea Swirl. There, she miserably spent her long, dreary teenage years. She had been betrayed and rejected. Presently, the mare knew that Spiral had never loved her. She had probably only wanted her, in the first place, as a sort of living trophy, a prized shell, because she was so unusually colored. Still, she had been Cerise's mother figure, for however short a time period, and it hurt to see her casually walk away from her forever. Then, the toughest stretch of her life started, from the day the orphanage kicked her out for being too old, to the weeks she spent fishing for scraps and imploring complete strangers for help. She resorted to theft, her strong jealousy and dishonesty growing ever more malicious. She learned not to cry, and how to survive. One day, the worst possible thing had happened: she had been caught stealing valuables, and the pony who owned them turned her in. But things went differently than she imagined. Instead of the constantly stern, pure, just alicorn she had expected, she found a lucid, relatively laid-back princess who was only trying to manage her land smoothly and bring out the best in everypony. She still felt guilty pangs from ignoring Luna and banishing her to the moon all those years ago. She didn't harshly punish Cerise, but offered her a job that seemed fitting. Unbeknownst to anypony outside of their security itself, Celestia and Luna had established another line of protection. They were spies that monitored every city in Equestria, to reduce the risk of another changeling attack. There were many in the capital, but none were allowed to do their work inside the castle. The sisters had plenty of things in it which they didn't want other ponies messing around with, and besides, knowing that you were being spied on was not a very pleasant feeling. What had Cerise done when presented with this offer? Starved, lonely and pained, she accepted it, of course! It was long, hard work, but quite well worth it--she got quality food (occasionally, Her Majesty cooked homemade pancakes for the spies herself!), a cozy little nook in the castle, and time to do whatever she pleased when she was not on duty. But all that was gone. Suddenly, the voice Cerise dreaded spoke, one which dwelled inside her head. Cerise... She mentally replied, Go away, Cha-- Yes, it's Chambya, she interrupted. And I do believe it's high time I got to be the leader, for once. Her evil, follow-up snicker revealed what was coming next. No, please, no! Not in broad daylight, you sinister-- Whirling, magical green flames (not unlike the terrifying Queen Chrysalis' own) engulfed Cerise, starting at her hooves and rushing upward. When it got to her eyes, all was dark for a few seconds, and she anxiously groped about, sightless. When the transformation was complete, there stood no mere pony, but the misplaced lesser changeling queen, frightening all the same though she was not the highest-ranking. There stood Queen Chambya. Author's Note Thank you for reading! How did you like the first chapter of my first official mlp fanfiction ever? Please feel free to deposit your thoughts below in the comments section! (Take note that they must be SFW, although it's a dark-ish story). As far as to when/where this tale takes place, I'll let you choose for yourself. Sometime before the reformation of the changelings in Season 6 and King Thorax. In an alternate universe that is exactly the same, except for the fact that the changelings never reformed. I am not asking you to make a decision for me, this is simply a matter of personal preference, for your benefit and lack of confusion in the story. Also, my OC doubles as my ponysona. Once again, infinite thanks for reading! 2. The Early Life of One Seeking AcceptanceCelestia had sacrificed the spare forty-five minutes she had on hoof to some speedy research. Starswirl, although blind to the magic of friendship, had been a good mentor nonetheless. As a result, she was now extremely knowledgeable in methods of obtaining knowledge, which sounded like some variation of the circular reasoning fallacy to her logical mind, but was really just repetitive. The Canterlot Archives were vast. It did not matter--Celestia knew them like she knew every detail of the gold ornaments she wore. She wished Lulu was there to provide some thoughtful insight that may not have occurred to her. She was probably snoring softly in the serene enviroment of her bedroom. Her duties required her to be nocturnal, and she would seldom stay up all day, unless there happened to be an infinitely important event or emergency that demanded her presence. Celestia spread her feathered wings and lightly flapped all the way to the very back of one of the longest rows. On the bottom shelf, there were various bins with years inscripted on them. She glanced at a folder she was already holding with her magic and selected a bin. Levitating it to her eye level, the ivory princess magically leafed through several faded newspapers until she found the right one. A delighted smile lit up her face. It quickly dissolved into a thoughtful look as she laid pastel violet eyes upon the article of her interest. The headline screamed in large, bold letters. "SCANDALOUS PONY SECRETLY MARRIES CHANGELING, COUPLE NOW GONE MISSING." This story had come out around the date of her former employee's birth; it was likely biased, but if so, it was still bound to be fairly accurate. As she was in the middle of investigating, a scroll, tied with red ribbon, materialized next to her in a jiffy. Absentmindedly, Celestia wrapped her magic around this new item and placed it on the corresponding shelf, to read later, if she ever had time to get around to it. That was how she missed Twilight Sparkle's warning, which detailed that Chrysalis had been sighted that morning. The entire Royal Guard, it seemed, had been alerted of a lethal changeling's presence in Canterlot. They all rushed towards Chambya, spears at the ready. She only stood stock still, a cunning smile on her fanged face. The guards closed in. It was on! She kicked one in the throat with her hind legs and whirled around, feeling a sudden urge to eat. Grabbing another, she opened her mouth wide to reveal a forked red tongue and drained the love out of him in ten seconds flat. Then, she focused on taking all the others out, with a reptilian hiss. Somehow, their spears snapped like twigs when subjected to her madness. She was enjoying the fight. Oh, this has got to be a dream, moaned Cerise, trapped inside her head. Now she was the side who could no longer speak publicly. "Sorry to shatter your hopes, darling, but it definitely isn't," replied the ruthless queen, while smacking another guard directly in the jaw with pleasure. She was taking advantage of her new ability to talk aloud, if it was only to fire a snarky comment at her helpless other side. Chambya, that is enough. You must only frighten them, not cause a national disturbance! a new voice roared in her head. It was Chrysalis, communicating with her through a special type of changeling magic. Yes, High Queen, Chambya replied, restraining herself. In the blink of an eye, she morphed into another Guard. Cerise would have objected, but Chrysalis was using magic to forcibly exclude her from the conversation. Now, you shall come to my hive, to receive your next orders in private. Is that understood, my minion? Yes, but you promised potency when I first heard you, High Queen, and full charge of a hive of my own. Cerise was intrigued to learn that Chambya had strange, seperate desires from her. And that you shall have, in due time. A hive, feeding one, in particular, is an enormous responsibility. Tell the false, frail mare whom you are currently unable to leave behind that I know the whereabouts of both her parents, as well as all that has happened to them. A hope, a foolish, irrational hope flickered on in Cerise's heart. They might be alive. She might be able to see them. She might be able to run up to them and warmly embrace them, confessing her many faults. In comforting love, there would be a priceless moment of bliss and reunion. Chambya could hear all these thoughts, like usual. So could Queen Chrysalis, who was exhibiting a fanges grin, for the fates of Woodland Canopy and Maxilla, the rebellious lovebirds, had not been pretty ones. Maxilla! How Chrysalis snapped at the name! She had been a treacherous little nymph to think she could disobey the High Queen's orders! Love was a food source to be utilized by changelings, not given freely by them. Well, she had no cause to worry about the rebel anymore. It was her responsibility to maintain the hive and keep it thriving. That meant things she didn't necessarily always want to do, such as scouring the surrounding area and scraping together as much love as she and her subjects could find, and culling every quern nymph or exceedingly weak grub that hatched. She must take care of these things, or the hive would fall into utter disorder and become inefficient. She did not mind dealing with ponies at all, but to do so to her own changelings--each one was more or less related to her. The main objective was that the hive should run seamlessly as a whole. Any who were foolish enough to rebel would be used as an example. Maxilla had been the first in her hive, but then, Chrysalis was the awesome High Queen of all changelings. Why shouldn't her subjects greatly fear their ruler? Chrysalis then contacted the leader of her hive's Changeling Patrol, Captain Pharynx. Even as a grub, he had shown superb skill and excelled in training when the time for it had come. He possessed a dramatic but useful color mutation, which enabled him to be easily spotted amongst the colony: dark red fins and brilliant violet eyes. He was quite unlike his younger brother. His younger brother had barely been accepted into the hive, for he had almost been counted as too weak. "Yes, Queen?" the captain replied gruffly. Lead half the patrol to the Crystal Empire to acquire rations, she commanded. Of course, but do we need to go there again? The workers and drones are losing strength. I believe you do. Althoigh his main job was to protect the hive, she needed him to do what others had failed to. Fortunately, he was the most loyal of its thousands of inhabitants, for sure. The jet queen exited her throne chamber with the intent of observing the entire hive and making an estimate of how much love would be needed. "What is the meaning of this madness?" inquired Luna. The graceful, regal, slightly bedraggled mare stared intimidatingly down at Chain Mail and two other guards. This was nearly as bad as the Royal Canterlot Voice. One sheepishly managed a, "W-well, you see, Princess--" "You have awakened me from necessary slumber, and for what cause?" Her imposing tone made all three want to look away or stamp their hooves down on the ground, but neither of these options complied with the code of conduct they had been taught, especially when conversing with a royal princess. Chain finally spoke up, clearing his throat non-offensively. "Your Majesty, we were forced to fight a despicable changeling--if we hadn't, she might have wounded innocent Equestrians." "Yes, that's exactly what happened!" chorused the other two. Luna's tone softened upon hearing these explanations. "A changeling queen, are you absolutely certain? Has my sister been informed of this happening?" "No, Your Majesty, as far as we know." Luna started to pace, but not anxiously, like Twilight Sparkle, though this might well mean Equestria was on the precipice of disaster. Hers was not stressed and tense, it was beautifully light and profound, complimented by her exquisitely edged mane, the flow of which she shared with her elder sister. The one unfortunate quirk all her other behaviors were pervious to was the habit of sticking the tip of her tongue out of her mouth when concentrating. She obliviously exhibited thus as she paced, to such an extent that the guards (with the exception of Chain Mail) were struggling to keep respectful faces and having to bite their own tongues. At last, she halted, coming to a conclusion. "I would like the Royal Guard to patrol our beloved and watch it, as a hawk, to the best of their ability. "Certainly, Princess." Chain Mail's weathered grey face grew tight with lines of worry. "If the results are unfavorable, we may have to take a census, for matters of security. Good day, stallions." And with that, the Princess of the Night effortlessly ascended into the azure sky, returning to her tower. Her comely mane and tail were not dimmed by the sun. Instead, it provided a new light to view them in. "A census, eh? How long d'you think it'd take to complete that?" said the guard who had first attempted to speak aloud. "Mayhaps a few months," Chain Mail replied, temporarily removing his helmet with the orange magic of his horn, to toss the sweat out of his rugged, pale blue mane. "The last one that took place in Equestria was done way back, a few millenia ago." "In the time of the king and queen?" "Aye, Silver Spear. Now, we had better get around to executing the princess' orders." The single veteran of the entire guard replaced his helmet neatly, with one hoof, and marched off, his emerald eyes gleaming with silent pride in his duty. The others followed, awe-struck by, well, just about anything related to him. They were both fairly new, having joined only two months ago. The way they chased after him and trailed him was more akin to a foal's zealous scampering, even, than the expected gait of "well-trained" and intelligent guards. "...but Canopy's whereabouts are presently unknown. He was last seen with a--" Celestia gasped. "--small, dark brown foal. It is suspected that he has fled into the infamous Everfree Forest. No one has dared to find out. Covered by Parchment Prose..." The Princess of the Day paused when she came to the date, mouthing it concisely. Within those mere forty minutes, she had learned a whole lot more about Cerise than she knew before, and, evidently, some the pegasus didn't even know about herself, such as the fact that she had been born with changeling eyes. Quite fortunately, her eyes had developed pupils soon afterwards, despite having two different, unsettling eye colors. This was helpful and truthful information, but the manner of its collection had been terribly cruel and tragic: Maxilla was attacked, captured and located in a secure but public cell with her newborn. Only the most famous newshorse of the group that gathered to see the pair each day--this "Parchment Prose"--and bombard them with camera flashes and complex interview questions meant to confuse Maxilla into giving an answer that, when documented, would generate even more hatred towards her. But strangely enough, by trying not to stay on the newspaper's front page, they had only lenghtened the story. Woodland Canopy had practially materialized from the shadows that night in order to free his true love and seek refuge for them both. That was when the wicked, terrible High Queen summoned Maxilla back to her hive. The worker knew she must go back and endure a punishment that was almost certainly death. She sadly instructed her husband to take good care of the infant filly whom she would never see again, but he brokenly declared that some government-related ponies wanted their hooves on him just as fervently as the nasty Chrysalis did, with her. There was a painful, drawn-out moment when they enacted the tragic last resort before parting. They'd made the decision to hoof their young foal to the ocean, hoping the tide would come and mercifully carry her away, to blissful and unaware final moments. The filly bobbed up and down in the water like a float and cooed softly. They would have given anything for more time with their daughter, though there was no possible way to get out of this awful situation. The water's serene colors were wasted on their desperate countenances. Wishing they could stay in this same place forever, but feeling the immediate urgency of their seperate races, they finally broke the loving gaze and vanished into the distance, flying and bolting, leaving their only foal to drown. They had no other choice. Celestia returned to the present, forcing the tears brimming in her pale purple eyes to die down. As Cerise almost had. It's amazing how much you can discover with a simplistic temporal vision spell, she thought. Once again, she was grateful for all the pure, useful knowledge Starswirl the Bearded had imparted to her as a teacher, even if he was not around now. 3. The Life of One Who Has Long TravelledAuthor's Note Hello, everyone. Skip down to actual story if you want action. Continue reading my note if you want to hear about my hiatus and the specifics of this chapter. I know this was not supposed to be released until May, but I am doing so now for your pleasure. This means I am still on hiatus, and will remain so until said deadline in order to continue with normal life. I am aware that I'm using a very limited variation of words, and that I'm probably portraying timberwolves incorrectly, as I haven't seen any of the episodes highlighting them. Please enjoy the latest chapter. Updates will be more or less regular after my hiatus has run its course. 3. The Life of One Who Has Long Travelled Chambya the changeling queen was built for long-distance flight, in order to travel far and wide to help her race thrive. Even so, the miles eventually took their toll on her hole-filled wings. The sun was stretching into evening, sinking quickly. Luna's moon would take its place in the sky soon enough. Why are you doing this? Cerise questioned. She did not hesistate to answer. "Because, I have burning questions, like you, but moreso, because I am on a quest." We're almost there, High Queen, she thought. The reply was prompt: Hurry up with it, I don't have all day to intimidate the weakling! I shall. That instant, she pulled into the cave that held the hive entrance. Everything was dark, wet and rocky, with strings of bioluminescent slime hanging on the walls. The light they cast revealed all that could be seen in a faint green, making Cerise sick to her stomach. A scattering of drones possessing large, vivid purple jaws guarded the entrance. She had thought there'd be more than five. Two of them stepped forwards. "What's your number?" said the one who looked more imposing. "I have no need of an identification number," Chambya snarled, "I am a lesser queen, and the High Queen has called me here." Does she, too, have problems with authentication? If Cerise had been in control of her body right now, she would have raised an eyebrow. "How do we know if you're supposed to be in another hive?" The guards were extremely stubborn. Tell them I did send you, thought Chrysalis impatiently. Chambya responded with a hiss. That's not going to work, High Queen... Sighs were inaudible during mental communication, but that certainly did not keep Chrysalis from exhaling a rather long one. Then, the guards snapped to attention as she furiously yelled, "I COMMANDED HER TO COME HERE, YOU FOOLS! HAS CAPTAIN PHARYNX LEFT ONLY THE STUPIDEST OF HIS PATROL BEHIND TO PROTECT MY HIVE?!" into their minds. They parted as quickly as if they had been struck by lightning and allowed Lesser Queen Chambya, who now held an air of proud indifference, to pass through the cave into the actual hive. It was filled with catacombs, wide chambers, tunnels, rocky ledges, cliffs and gaps in the most innocent-looking places, all illuminated by the moist, sticky slime, which seemed to be strung everywhere, even on the floor, at times. This was an extremely dangerous place for ponies, going far beyond the risk of bumping into a changeling, being drained and left to die (or worse). Even though she had never set hoof in Chrysalis' hive, Chambya navigated it expertly, allowing internal instincts to guide her. Changelings were incredibly resilient, but her already sore wings were getting worse from constant use. Flying was required to get across many sections of the hive. On the way to the throne chamber, they passed several semi-translucent chrysalises, with the silhouettes of growing or moulting changelings inside. Somehow, Chambya avoided the vast majority of the slime, her hole-filled hooves delicately yet effortlessly picking theur way through. If changelings had the capability of such automatic daintiness, why did they not use it? Up ahead stood another line of guards, blocking the open entryway to Her Majesty's throne room. Ever heard of doors? Cerise commented, mostly to herself. "Quiet," Chambya hushed. For one awkward moment, the guards and they stared at one another. Then, Chrysalis' voice floated over from her vast room. "I sense that she has arrived. Guards, allow her access! Now, if you value possessing every piece of your chitin!" The guards stepped aside within the space of a single second. Chambya entered, acting quite highly and mightily for her rank. The High Queen was not in the mood for this. She rose up from her throne, where she had previously been reclining. "Remember that you are imprisoned with the weakling, fool. Before I deem you fit to rule your own hive, you must get rid of it. Until then, you will stay somewhere in the Morphax network. Is that understood?" "Yes, High Queen." She reluctantly lowered her head in submission. A few minutes ago, Cerise had begun straining for control over the other part of herself, thinking as hard as she possible could. She would have been perspiring in streams from the extertion as she poured her very soul into fighting. It paid off. Surrounded by a burst of living, glowing color, the appearance of the lifeform standing at Chrysalis' hooves suddenly reverted to that of the dark brown pegasus. In her mind, Chambya gave a loud cry of shock, inspiring a headache. Cerise could almost see the lethal queen transform visually, but not literally. Her mind was shifting approach and tactics. She had not remained High Queen this ling for no reason - she was cunning and knowledgable, an ideal leader. The changeling looked down at her prey, a cruel smile of mirth coming to her fanged face. "You want answers, foolish weakling, do you not? You long to know what makes you the creature you have lately been becoming?" Cerise gulped nervously and nodded, causing her turquoise-and-red mane to rustle. "Your mother is situated in thus very hive of mine, Morphax, though you are not ready to meet her yet, I fear." A wicked expression vanished from her monstrous features as quickly as it had come. She took a deep, content breath, comprehending that she was fully in control of the situation. "I shall give you two choices, imbecile: surrender to Lesser Queen Chambya and live freely here, with the chance to see your mother when I deem you ready, or stay in your current form and suffer at the hunger of my subjects." "I'll never surrender!" yelled Cerise, stamping the floor with one hoof. The sound echoed through the room. Her decision had been made. "Very well, I see you have chosen the latter." The queen promptly exited the chamber, having spent all the time she needed with her prisoner. As she left, she mentally gave all nearby members of her kind several commands. Feast, my little grubs and nymphs! When you are finished, prevent her escape with fresh mire. Watch her, and let her go free if she yields to Chambya. If she does not, put her in a chrysalis for some time. With that, Cerise was left screaming, as the starving swarm hastily opened their mouths and extended their tongues to drain her love. Far away, in the wild and untamed depths of the Everfree Forest, Woodland Canopy was searching for a certain thing. The forest was a dangerous place to live, if one didn't want to fall prey to hungry timberwolves, but it allowed him to be elusive to society. He never left his house without bringing fire or checking his wings to ensure they were fit for flying. If he didn't he would have had no means of defense or escape. His bright green coat and faded whitish blue mane didn't help. They were like a blatant invitation through the night, saying, "Hey, fresh pony here!" He nimbly lunged through the dense undergrowth, clenching a bright torch in his teeth. Every root was a new problem his mind was pressured to solve in mere seconds. But he couldn't keep it up for long. The next one was his downfall, literally. He tripped on the bothersome thing, which left a bleeding scrape on his leg as he sailed through the air. When he landed headfirst in the thorny brush, his torch extinguished immediately. Pegasus feathers. He could practically feel the wolves drifting toward him. When he tried to fly out of their range, he discovered that his wings had been caught up in the spiky tangle of exotic plants they called the "forest floor." There was no escape this time. Surrendering to fate's whim, he hung his head. My family's dead and Equestria hates me, he thought, so why do I even make an attempt to go on living anyway? As his hooves scraped through the mess of roots, searching for the solid ground, he suddenly noticed an ominous glow of light blue underneath them. Whatever was down there was better than getting eaten alive, he decided. He struggled against the throns, ignoring the terrible pain it was causing him. He must escape! The pack had appeared from the gloomy dark of the forest, and they were hungrily closing in. Back, forth, right, left. He could feel entangled feathers dropping from his wings and releasing tension. It wasn't too late. Not yet, if he fought for it. Before he had time to notice, the stallion fell through the thin layer of weeds, landing with a terrific splash. He was deep underwater, cloaked in the eerie light of a fathomless pool. He desperately flapped his damaged wings, even though they were useless when submerged. Air. Is what I need. He forced himself into doing an unnatural sort of paddling with all four hooves. It was a fight against the bright turquoise water. It was invisibly putting pressure on his lungs. Up he went, into that blessed direction - the opposite of death and mire and depths and drowning. More loose feathers detached from the unrecognizable appendages on his back as he swam. Would he live, or not? Just as the green pegasus was about to break the surface, he glimpsed the wooden jaws of those ravenous predators hovering above the pool. Waiting. He rapidly allowed himself to sink. Under the water, one found thinking to be almost spontaneous. It was because of this that Woodland Canopy realized he had found what he was looking for: The Pool of Oblivion. This pool was an obscure legend, fabled to consist partially of the Mirror Pool's water (for it was an offshoot) and partially of the raw, wild, untamed magic openly present in the Everfree. The waters of this pool were rumored to have the extraordinary power of erasing your existence - or, at least making everyone else forget it. As he saw it, it was a way to start over. But a little quick thinking never hurt. The stallion was absolutely certain he had identified the pack's alpha. Even in the night's jet, it was easy to tell. The brute was enormous, with jagged, thorny branches poking out from his back, and hardly a leaf to balance it all. Fast as lightning, he jumped from the pool and splashed its enchanted water right in the alpha's unsuspecting face. After he had done this, the other timberwolves instantly turned to the now new stranger, crowding around him. Thinking they were playing, the former leader snapped at them. He started a fight. Woodland ran, taking advantage of the diversion. He ran for miles, where he normally would have flown. He was sturdy and tough, if a bit cross (losing his family was not a particularly joyful thing). Who would have expected he'd accomplish his goal by accident? Now, he could go back and start his life anew, for, in the world, no memory (and therefore, no hatred) remained. A long time ago, Woodland had been a happy, reckless carefree young stallion, but that was before he fell in love with a changeling. He was devastated to have lost her to the bond of her hive. The pegasus stopped running once he reached the makeshift "home" he had created for himself. It could be described as down-to-earth, but certainly not in a literal manner, for the large, organic structure had been hoisted into the treetops using his own strength. Consisting mostly of twisted branches and the dried fibers of wild, possibly dangerous plants, it resembled a gigantic weaver bird's nest. He put extra care into strengthening its complex braided masses, created for holding the dwelling in place every single day. And he had made a living in that forest for a number of years, all by himself. Even he hadn't quite convinced himself that this nightmare was most assuredly reality. Finding his once fine wings rendered useless, Woodland proceeded to clamber up the trunk of the aspen nearest to his "nest." Which, of course, was not easy with hooves. Big, round, smooth hooves clashing against both the papery thin and rough, wrinkly sections of bark. Sweat streamed down his neck as he gradually realized his own security measures were too much for him. He slid back down, scraping his fetlocks. What to do now? He'd planned on leaving the Everfree after gathering his few possessions up, but that route was blocked off now. The door was closed. He would just have to go on, wouldn't he? Sighing in defeat, he glanced back up at the suspended structure which would never be reached again. It held the only thing he really wanted - the one and only family picture. It would be frivolous to say he lived for a picture, but that small print was his physical treasure to remember them by, a minute thread reaching through the hazy, sparkling dust in the vast caverns of time to connect two drastically different eras. He squeezed his eyes shut, mentally going over the image that had frozen a moment long past for all eternity. Maxilla, beloved Maxilla, with her beautiful, translucent turquoise mane and her gentle, tranquil eyes. One might claim there was hardly any genetic variation in changelings, but, if you really got to know one, you'd be able to tell them apart from the swarm by one infinitesimal quirk. And the tiny filly, such a queer thing (ugly by the standards of some), yet beloved all the same. It was a pity they hadn't gotten to name her before the last meeting. Then, he thought of how he looked in that picture. Younger, more carefree, and probably a whole lot more civil. He didn't know what his appearance betrayed now - there was no time to go searching for clear pools of water, and sitting, staring at a mere reflection was a terrible way to waste a life. Maybe he'd do it for a mirror of Maxilla, safe and living and well, but not himself. Never himself. Vanity was a disease of pride, he thought. The chartreuse stallion tore himself from the musings he had been making over the past. He must pull himself forward and start anew. This night, it was the night of the embarkment upon his journey back to real life.
1. The Life of One Between WorldsThe dark brown pegasus came soaring through the air, screeching to a halt as she hit the ground. She had landed at the hooves of a Royal Guard. "Let me in!" she pleaded, looking him directly in the eye. "I have urgent business with the Princess of the Day, and I'm late!" "I understand, Miss," he replied stoically, "but you'll have to show me a certificate of authentication." He was unmoved, just standing there in his golden armor--despite her frantic attitude. His grey eyes never once blinked. The mare groaned and stamped the ground with one hoof. She began digging anxiously in her saddlebags. Thoughts were speeding through her mind as she did so. Why in Equestria did Canterlot have to be built on a stupid mountain? It takes so much exertion to even get to the forsaken place! And where's that document, for the love of Cadance? Being a pegasus had its downfalls. Unicorns got in easily, before you could even flap your wings, and Earth ponies...well, not that many of them actually took care of all their matters in the castle, but the ones who did usually had something to show for it, like a VIP ticket or a court order. "Alright, sir, here you go." At last, she pulled out her written authentication and identification, which contained the signature of the very pony she needed to get to. That pony had been her boss for the last six years now. The certificate was quite lengthy, and it took him a full ten minutes just to skim. The subject with whom it was concerned started to fidget with her long, odd turquoise mane, wishing it was more concise. "You may enter," he proclaimed, finally. The moment the words had left his mouth, the worried mare bolted past him. She was intent on making a beeline for Canterlot Castle. "Good luck with your espionage!" the white stallion yelled over his shoulder. The hurried pony only scoffed. Yeah, keep it down if you want me to have any, she thought. Maybe the guard understood the huge bags under her eyes now. She knew that they were there, althought she hadn't looked in the mirror yet today, unlike her favorite celebrity would have. She was the beautiful Element of Generosity, and worth reading about for her drama. Also, she compelled this pony to have more of that particular attribute. Once, the mare had bought a fashion magazine just because it had a picture of her in it--after all, she did dearly love Rarity's mane, albeit not the most important thing. Poof! The shock of being instantaneously teleported rang throughout her. Maybe it was just her pegasi heritage, but she had always been a little bit wary of anything to do with magic. The spy tried to look at her surroundings, but as soon as she caught sight of a familiar and pristine, alabaster alicorn standing in front of her, she quickly dropped down in a bow. Then, she brushed her quirky mane out of her face (the thin, red stripe and large, geometric cuts running through it made it so) and raced forward to face the princess. "My apologies, Your Majesty! Please, I can explain!" "It's alright, Cerise. I will only start our discussion once you have settled down. Have some tea, if you'd like." The alicorn's regal and tranquil voice echoed off the walls and high ceiling of the pleasant side room they were meeting in. Just as Cerise, full name Chocolate Cherry, was about to give her her written report, Celestia gently took it from her chocolate hoof with her pale yellow magic. Her flowing mane moved with her as she examined her findings. "Well, I must say you've done an excellent job," began the graceful princess. "Aside from that, I will get right to my point: I'm going to have to let you go," she sighed. Cerise's pupils, the left a deep purple, the right a lake blue, shrank majorly. "P-p-p-princess Celestia, what d-do you mean? I've worked for you for such a l-long time! It hasn't been an easy job, either! What-what've I done?" she stuttered fearfully. Celestia calmly cleared her throat. This has to be more difficult for her than it seems, Cerise thought, half hoping and half wishing. "Because, Chocolate Cherry, it's been confirmed that you are..." She trailed off, as if she'd hit something very hard to announce. "What please, Your M-m-majesty?" She was starting to tremble in dreadful anticipation. "You are, ahem, part...changeling." The last word sounded ugly coming from the mouth of one of Equestria's noble and gracious rulers. Cerise fainted instantly, to land on the ground with a rather loud clatter that shook all the teacups on the table. Several items spilled oit of her saddlebags, including reports, notes, tools a packet of dried fruit and a scrap of sheet music. The princess sighed again, placing her gilded hoof on the table. "She's usually able to withstand a lot. I guess telling her was too much." The world of the subject of her mention had shattered after she spole those words. Her mindset, viewpoint and her identity, which had fully formed on the assumption that her parents were pegasi, now lay crumbled, like the smoldering ashes of a fire that had burned brightly in the past. Unconcious though she was, Cerise knew she was left with nothing. Nothing, that was, except for a dizzying pain in the head. How did I end up in the orphanage in the first place, then? And why? She had come to. Presently, after standing up, she discovered she was on one of Canterlot's busy streets, her final payment--a bag of two hundred bits, coupled with a worthless "Best Wishes" card from Celestia--sticking out of her bag. She came to the conclusion that she'd passed out, or been teleported, or perhaps both. But then, she found herself thinking about the nightmares. Somehow, they had wormed their way into her mind, likely from her new and shocking revelation, although she preferred not to dwell on them when awake, if she could help it. Every night, for as long as Cerise could remember, she suffered from the endless horrors of her dreams--dreams where she turned into a barbaric changeling queen with no major emotions, only cold, hard senses and instincts. There seemed to be another side of her in dreams, an intelligent evildoer who insisted she was the true side of Cerise's personality, and that her own name, and Chocolate Cherry's real name was Chambya. She hated slumber for fear of that monster. As she continued to think about Chambya, a small question came to mind. Why has Princess Luna not saved me from my awful dreams? She would never shirk. But wait, what if they weren't dreams? She was part changeling, as terrible as it was. She was getting dangerously close to hyperventilating. To calm herself down, Cerise looked around Canterlot, at all the fancy stores, restaurants and artistic banners depicting the Two Sisters. She remembered hearing something about Rarity attempting to get her hooves on some beautiful, ancient tapestries from an old, ruined castle, to bring them out of hopeless disrepair with her magical, creative restoration skills. An old. Ruined. Castle, she thought. No, Cerise, don't think of dark things again. Ay, there are so many problems in my stupid life. At least there was a good spell for a little while, but--that's over now. When she was very young, too young to talk or remember what was happening, a beachcomber named Spiral Shell brought her to Canterlot's only orphanage (which presently didn't exist anymore) claiming to have found her floating hopelessly in the ocean. That mare proved to be very indecisive. After dropping little Cerise off, she returned and requested to adopt her, but no, then she changed her mind. She'd said that she wanted to be her foster parent. Anyway, Chocolate Cherry ended up staying with her and her family, under the incorrect title of foster foal, for nearly thirteen years. In fact, Spiral Shell was the one who had named her, inspired by her coat and cutie mark--a red triplet. Cerise reminded her of delicious candy-covered cherries. Eventually, Spiral moved to Ponyville with her real daughter, a filly she'd had about three years after Cerise came to her house. The now jealous pegasus was relocated to yet another orphanage, not too far from Canterlot, feeling usurped by the gorgeous Sea Swirl. There, she miserably spent her long, dreary teenage years. She had been betrayed and rejected. Presently, the mare knew that Spiral had never loved her. She had probably only wanted her, in the first place, as a sort of living trophy, a prized shell, because she was so unusually colored. Still, she had been Cerise's mother figure, for however short a time period, and it hurt to see her casually walk away from her forever. Then, the toughest stretch of her life started, from the day the orphanage kicked her out for being too old, to the weeks she spent fishing for scraps and imploring complete strangers for help. She resorted to theft, her strong jealousy and dishonesty growing ever more malicious. She learned not to cry, and how to survive. One day, the worst possible thing had happened: she had been caught stealing valuables, and the pony who owned them turned her in. But things went differently than she imagined. Instead of the constantly stern, pure, just alicorn she had expected, she found a lucid, relatively laid-back princess who was only trying to manage her land smoothly and bring out the best in everypony. She still felt guilty pangs from ignoring Luna and banishing her to the moon all those years ago. She didn't harshly punish Cerise, but offered her a job that seemed fitting. Unbeknownst to anypony outside of their security itself, Celestia and Luna had established another line of protection. They were spies that monitored every city in Equestria, to reduce the risk of another changeling attack. There were many in the capital, but none were allowed to do their work inside the castle. The sisters had plenty of things in it which they didn't want other ponies messing around with, and besides, knowing that you were being spied on was not a very pleasant feeling. What had Cerise done when presented with this offer? Starved, lonely and pained, she accepted it, of course! It was long, hard work, but quite well worth it--she got quality food (occasionally, Her Majesty cooked homemade pancakes for the spies herself!), a cozy little nook in the castle, and time to do whatever she pleased when she was not on duty. But all that was gone. Suddenly, the voice Cerise dreaded spoke, one which dwelled inside her head. Cerise... She mentally replied, Go away, Cha-- Yes, it's Chambya, she interrupted. And I do believe it's high time I got to be the leader, for once. Her evil, follow-up snicker revealed what was coming next. No, please, no! Not in broad daylight, you sinister-- Whirling, magical green flames (not unlike the terrifying Queen Chrysalis' own) engulfed Cerise, starting at her hooves and rushing upward. When it got to her eyes, all was dark for a few seconds, and she anxiously groped about, sightless. When the transformation was complete, there stood no mere pony, but the misplaced lesser changeling queen, frightening all the same though she was not the highest-ranking. There stood Queen Chambya. Author's Note Thank you for reading! How did you like the first chapter of my first official mlp fanfiction ever? Please feel free to deposit your thoughts below in the comments section! (Take note that they must be SFW, although it's a dark-ish story). As far as to when/where this tale takes place, I'll let you choose for yourself. Sometime before the reformation of the changelings in Season 6 and King Thorax. In an alternate universe that is exactly the same, except for the fact that the changelings never reformed. I am not asking you to make a decision for me, this is simply a matter of personal preference, for your benefit and lack of confusion in the story. Also, my OC doubles as my ponysona. Once again, infinite thanks for reading!
2. The Early Life of One Seeking AcceptanceCelestia had sacrificed the spare forty-five minutes she had on hoof to some speedy research. Starswirl, although blind to the magic of friendship, had been a good mentor nonetheless. As a result, she was now extremely knowledgeable in methods of obtaining knowledge, which sounded like some variation of the circular reasoning fallacy to her logical mind, but was really just repetitive. The Canterlot Archives were vast. It did not matter--Celestia knew them like she knew every detail of the gold ornaments she wore. She wished Lulu was there to provide some thoughtful insight that may not have occurred to her. She was probably snoring softly in the serene enviroment of her bedroom. Her duties required her to be nocturnal, and she would seldom stay up all day, unless there happened to be an infinitely important event or emergency that demanded her presence. Celestia spread her feathered wings and lightly flapped all the way to the very back of one of the longest rows. On the bottom shelf, there were various bins with years inscripted on them. She glanced at a folder she was already holding with her magic and selected a bin. Levitating it to her eye level, the ivory princess magically leafed through several faded newspapers until she found the right one. A delighted smile lit up her face. It quickly dissolved into a thoughtful look as she laid pastel violet eyes upon the article of her interest. The headline screamed in large, bold letters. "SCANDALOUS PONY SECRETLY MARRIES CHANGELING, COUPLE NOW GONE MISSING." This story had come out around the date of her former employee's birth; it was likely biased, but if so, it was still bound to be fairly accurate. As she was in the middle of investigating, a scroll, tied with red ribbon, materialized next to her in a jiffy. Absentmindedly, Celestia wrapped her magic around this new item and placed it on the corresponding shelf, to read later, if she ever had time to get around to it. That was how she missed Twilight Sparkle's warning, which detailed that Chrysalis had been sighted that morning. The entire Royal Guard, it seemed, had been alerted of a lethal changeling's presence in Canterlot. They all rushed towards Chambya, spears at the ready. She only stood stock still, a cunning smile on her fanged face. The guards closed in. It was on! She kicked one in the throat with her hind legs and whirled around, feeling a sudden urge to eat. Grabbing another, she opened her mouth wide to reveal a forked red tongue and drained the love out of him in ten seconds flat. Then, she focused on taking all the others out, with a reptilian hiss. Somehow, their spears snapped like twigs when subjected to her madness. She was enjoying the fight. Oh, this has got to be a dream, moaned Cerise, trapped inside her head. Now she was the side who could no longer speak publicly. "Sorry to shatter your hopes, darling, but it definitely isn't," replied the ruthless queen, while smacking another guard directly in the jaw with pleasure. She was taking advantage of her new ability to talk aloud, if it was only to fire a snarky comment at her helpless other side. Chambya, that is enough. You must only frighten them, not cause a national disturbance! a new voice roared in her head. It was Chrysalis, communicating with her through a special type of changeling magic. Yes, High Queen, Chambya replied, restraining herself. In the blink of an eye, she morphed into another Guard. Cerise would have objected, but Chrysalis was using magic to forcibly exclude her from the conversation. Now, you shall come to my hive, to receive your next orders in private. Is that understood, my minion? Yes, but you promised potency when I first heard you, High Queen, and full charge of a hive of my own. Cerise was intrigued to learn that Chambya had strange, seperate desires from her. And that you shall have, in due time. A hive, feeding one, in particular, is an enormous responsibility. Tell the false, frail mare whom you are currently unable to leave behind that I know the whereabouts of both her parents, as well as all that has happened to them. A hope, a foolish, irrational hope flickered on in Cerise's heart. They might be alive. She might be able to see them. She might be able to run up to them and warmly embrace them, confessing her many faults. In comforting love, there would be a priceless moment of bliss and reunion. Chambya could hear all these thoughts, like usual. So could Queen Chrysalis, who was exhibiting a fanges grin, for the fates of Woodland Canopy and Maxilla, the rebellious lovebirds, had not been pretty ones. Maxilla! How Chrysalis snapped at the name! She had been a treacherous little nymph to think she could disobey the High Queen's orders! Love was a food source to be utilized by changelings, not given freely by them. Well, she had no cause to worry about the rebel anymore. It was her responsibility to maintain the hive and keep it thriving. That meant things she didn't necessarily always want to do, such as scouring the surrounding area and scraping together as much love as she and her subjects could find, and culling every quern nymph or exceedingly weak grub that hatched. She must take care of these things, or the hive would fall into utter disorder and become inefficient. She did not mind dealing with ponies at all, but to do so to her own changelings--each one was more or less related to her. The main objective was that the hive should run seamlessly as a whole. Any who were foolish enough to rebel would be used as an example. Maxilla had been the first in her hive, but then, Chrysalis was the awesome High Queen of all changelings. Why shouldn't her subjects greatly fear their ruler? Chrysalis then contacted the leader of her hive's Changeling Patrol, Captain Pharynx. Even as a grub, he had shown superb skill and excelled in training when the time for it had come. He possessed a dramatic but useful color mutation, which enabled him to be easily spotted amongst the colony: dark red fins and brilliant violet eyes. He was quite unlike his younger brother. His younger brother had barely been accepted into the hive, for he had almost been counted as too weak. "Yes, Queen?" the captain replied gruffly. Lead half the patrol to the Crystal Empire to acquire rations, she commanded. Of course, but do we need to go there again? The workers and drones are losing strength. I believe you do. Althoigh his main job was to protect the hive, she needed him to do what others had failed to. Fortunately, he was the most loyal of its thousands of inhabitants, for sure. The jet queen exited her throne chamber with the intent of observing the entire hive and making an estimate of how much love would be needed. "What is the meaning of this madness?" inquired Luna. The graceful, regal, slightly bedraggled mare stared intimidatingly down at Chain Mail and two other guards. This was nearly as bad as the Royal Canterlot Voice. One sheepishly managed a, "W-well, you see, Princess--" "You have awakened me from necessary slumber, and for what cause?" Her imposing tone made all three want to look away or stamp their hooves down on the ground, but neither of these options complied with the code of conduct they had been taught, especially when conversing with a royal princess. Chain finally spoke up, clearing his throat non-offensively. "Your Majesty, we were forced to fight a despicable changeling--if we hadn't, she might have wounded innocent Equestrians." "Yes, that's exactly what happened!" chorused the other two. Luna's tone softened upon hearing these explanations. "A changeling queen, are you absolutely certain? Has my sister been informed of this happening?" "No, Your Majesty, as far as we know." Luna started to pace, but not anxiously, like Twilight Sparkle, though this might well mean Equestria was on the precipice of disaster. Hers was not stressed and tense, it was beautifully light and profound, complimented by her exquisitely edged mane, the flow of which she shared with her elder sister. The one unfortunate quirk all her other behaviors were pervious to was the habit of sticking the tip of her tongue out of her mouth when concentrating. She obliviously exhibited thus as she paced, to such an extent that the guards (with the exception of Chain Mail) were struggling to keep respectful faces and having to bite their own tongues. At last, she halted, coming to a conclusion. "I would like the Royal Guard to patrol our beloved and watch it, as a hawk, to the best of their ability. "Certainly, Princess." Chain Mail's weathered grey face grew tight with lines of worry. "If the results are unfavorable, we may have to take a census, for matters of security. Good day, stallions." And with that, the Princess of the Night effortlessly ascended into the azure sky, returning to her tower. Her comely mane and tail were not dimmed by the sun. Instead, it provided a new light to view them in. "A census, eh? How long d'you think it'd take to complete that?" said the guard who had first attempted to speak aloud. "Mayhaps a few months," Chain Mail replied, temporarily removing his helmet with the orange magic of his horn, to toss the sweat out of his rugged, pale blue mane. "The last one that took place in Equestria was done way back, a few millenia ago." "In the time of the king and queen?" "Aye, Silver Spear. Now, we had better get around to executing the princess' orders." The single veteran of the entire guard replaced his helmet neatly, with one hoof, and marched off, his emerald eyes gleaming with silent pride in his duty. The others followed, awe-struck by, well, just about anything related to him. They were both fairly new, having joined only two months ago. The way they chased after him and trailed him was more akin to a foal's zealous scampering, even, than the expected gait of "well-trained" and intelligent guards. "...but Canopy's whereabouts are presently unknown. He was last seen with a--" Celestia gasped. "--small, dark brown foal. It is suspected that he has fled into the infamous Everfree Forest. No one has dared to find out. Covered by Parchment Prose..." The Princess of the Day paused when she came to the date, mouthing it concisely. Within those mere forty minutes, she had learned a whole lot more about Cerise than she knew before, and, evidently, some the pegasus didn't even know about herself, such as the fact that she had been born with changeling eyes. Quite fortunately, her eyes had developed pupils soon afterwards, despite having two different, unsettling eye colors. This was helpful and truthful information, but the manner of its collection had been terribly cruel and tragic: Maxilla was attacked, captured and located in a secure but public cell with her newborn. Only the most famous newshorse of the group that gathered to see the pair each day--this "Parchment Prose"--and bombard them with camera flashes and complex interview questions meant to confuse Maxilla into giving an answer that, when documented, would generate even more hatred towards her. But strangely enough, by trying not to stay on the newspaper's front page, they had only lenghtened the story. Woodland Canopy had practially materialized from the shadows that night in order to free his true love and seek refuge for them both. That was when the wicked, terrible High Queen summoned Maxilla back to her hive. The worker knew she must go back and endure a punishment that was almost certainly death. She sadly instructed her husband to take good care of the infant filly whom she would never see again, but he brokenly declared that some government-related ponies wanted their hooves on him just as fervently as the nasty Chrysalis did, with her. There was a painful, drawn-out moment when they enacted the tragic last resort before parting. They'd made the decision to hoof their young foal to the ocean, hoping the tide would come and mercifully carry her away, to blissful and unaware final moments. The filly bobbed up and down in the water like a float and cooed softly. They would have given anything for more time with their daughter, though there was no possible way to get out of this awful situation. The water's serene colors were wasted on their desperate countenances. Wishing they could stay in this same place forever, but feeling the immediate urgency of their seperate races, they finally broke the loving gaze and vanished into the distance, flying and bolting, leaving their only foal to drown. They had no other choice. Celestia returned to the present, forcing the tears brimming in her pale purple eyes to die down. As Cerise almost had. It's amazing how much you can discover with a simplistic temporal vision spell, she thought. Once again, she was grateful for all the pure, useful knowledge Starswirl the Bearded had imparted to her as a teacher, even if he was not around now.
3. The Life of One Who Has Long TravelledAuthor's Note Hello, everyone. Skip down to actual story if you want action. Continue reading my note if you want to hear about my hiatus and the specifics of this chapter. I know this was not supposed to be released until May, but I am doing so now for your pleasure. This means I am still on hiatus, and will remain so until said deadline in order to continue with normal life. I am aware that I'm using a very limited variation of words, and that I'm probably portraying timberwolves incorrectly, as I haven't seen any of the episodes highlighting them. Please enjoy the latest chapter. Updates will be more or less regular after my hiatus has run its course. 3. The Life of One Who Has Long Travelled Chambya the changeling queen was built for long-distance flight, in order to travel far and wide to help her race thrive. Even so, the miles eventually took their toll on her hole-filled wings. The sun was stretching into evening, sinking quickly. Luna's moon would take its place in the sky soon enough. Why are you doing this? Cerise questioned. She did not hesistate to answer. "Because, I have burning questions, like you, but moreso, because I am on a quest." We're almost there, High Queen, she thought. The reply was prompt: Hurry up with it, I don't have all day to intimidate the weakling! I shall. That instant, she pulled into the cave that held the hive entrance. Everything was dark, wet and rocky, with strings of bioluminescent slime hanging on the walls. The light they cast revealed all that could be seen in a faint green, making Cerise sick to her stomach. A scattering of drones possessing large, vivid purple jaws guarded the entrance. She had thought there'd be more than five. Two of them stepped forwards. "What's your number?" said the one who looked more imposing. "I have no need of an identification number," Chambya snarled, "I am a lesser queen, and the High Queen has called me here." Does she, too, have problems with authentication? If Cerise had been in control of her body right now, she would have raised an eyebrow. "How do we know if you're supposed to be in another hive?" The guards were extremely stubborn. Tell them I did send you, thought Chrysalis impatiently. Chambya responded with a hiss. That's not going to work, High Queen... Sighs were inaudible during mental communication, but that certainly did not keep Chrysalis from exhaling a rather long one. Then, the guards snapped to attention as she furiously yelled, "I COMMANDED HER TO COME HERE, YOU FOOLS! HAS CAPTAIN PHARYNX LEFT ONLY THE STUPIDEST OF HIS PATROL BEHIND TO PROTECT MY HIVE?!" into their minds. They parted as quickly as if they had been struck by lightning and allowed Lesser Queen Chambya, who now held an air of proud indifference, to pass through the cave into the actual hive. It was filled with catacombs, wide chambers, tunnels, rocky ledges, cliffs and gaps in the most innocent-looking places, all illuminated by the moist, sticky slime, which seemed to be strung everywhere, even on the floor, at times. This was an extremely dangerous place for ponies, going far beyond the risk of bumping into a changeling, being drained and left to die (or worse). Even though she had never set hoof in Chrysalis' hive, Chambya navigated it expertly, allowing internal instincts to guide her. Changelings were incredibly resilient, but her already sore wings were getting worse from constant use. Flying was required to get across many sections of the hive. On the way to the throne chamber, they passed several semi-translucent chrysalises, with the silhouettes of growing or moulting changelings inside. Somehow, Chambya avoided the vast majority of the slime, her hole-filled hooves delicately yet effortlessly picking theur way through. If changelings had the capability of such automatic daintiness, why did they not use it? Up ahead stood another line of guards, blocking the open entryway to Her Majesty's throne room. Ever heard of doors? Cerise commented, mostly to herself. "Quiet," Chambya hushed. For one awkward moment, the guards and they stared at one another. Then, Chrysalis' voice floated over from her vast room. "I sense that she has arrived. Guards, allow her access! Now, if you value possessing every piece of your chitin!" The guards stepped aside within the space of a single second. Chambya entered, acting quite highly and mightily for her rank. The High Queen was not in the mood for this. She rose up from her throne, where she had previously been reclining. "Remember that you are imprisoned with the weakling, fool. Before I deem you fit to rule your own hive, you must get rid of it. Until then, you will stay somewhere in the Morphax network. Is that understood?" "Yes, High Queen." She reluctantly lowered her head in submission. A few minutes ago, Cerise had begun straining for control over the other part of herself, thinking as hard as she possible could. She would have been perspiring in streams from the extertion as she poured her very soul into fighting. It paid off. Surrounded by a burst of living, glowing color, the appearance of the lifeform standing at Chrysalis' hooves suddenly reverted to that of the dark brown pegasus. In her mind, Chambya gave a loud cry of shock, inspiring a headache. Cerise could almost see the lethal queen transform visually, but not literally. Her mind was shifting approach and tactics. She had not remained High Queen this ling for no reason - she was cunning and knowledgable, an ideal leader. The changeling looked down at her prey, a cruel smile of mirth coming to her fanged face. "You want answers, foolish weakling, do you not? You long to know what makes you the creature you have lately been becoming?" Cerise gulped nervously and nodded, causing her turquoise-and-red mane to rustle. "Your mother is situated in thus very hive of mine, Morphax, though you are not ready to meet her yet, I fear." A wicked expression vanished from her monstrous features as quickly as it had come. She took a deep, content breath, comprehending that she was fully in control of the situation. "I shall give you two choices, imbecile: surrender to Lesser Queen Chambya and live freely here, with the chance to see your mother when I deem you ready, or stay in your current form and suffer at the hunger of my subjects." "I'll never surrender!" yelled Cerise, stamping the floor with one hoof. The sound echoed through the room. Her decision had been made. "Very well, I see you have chosen the latter." The queen promptly exited the chamber, having spent all the time she needed with her prisoner. As she left, she mentally gave all nearby members of her kind several commands. Feast, my little grubs and nymphs! When you are finished, prevent her escape with fresh mire. Watch her, and let her go free if she yields to Chambya. If she does not, put her in a chrysalis for some time. With that, Cerise was left screaming, as the starving swarm hastily opened their mouths and extended their tongues to drain her love. Far away, in the wild and untamed depths of the Everfree Forest, Woodland Canopy was searching for a certain thing. The forest was a dangerous place to live, if one didn't want to fall prey to hungry timberwolves, but it allowed him to be elusive to society. He never left his house without bringing fire or checking his wings to ensure they were fit for flying. If he didn't he would have had no means of defense or escape. His bright green coat and faded whitish blue mane didn't help. They were like a blatant invitation through the night, saying, "Hey, fresh pony here!" He nimbly lunged through the dense undergrowth, clenching a bright torch in his teeth. Every root was a new problem his mind was pressured to solve in mere seconds. But he couldn't keep it up for long. The next one was his downfall, literally. He tripped on the bothersome thing, which left a bleeding scrape on his leg as he sailed through the air. When he landed headfirst in the thorny brush, his torch extinguished immediately. Pegasus feathers. He could practically feel the wolves drifting toward him. When he tried to fly out of their range, he discovered that his wings had been caught up in the spiky tangle of exotic plants they called the "forest floor." There was no escape this time. Surrendering to fate's whim, he hung his head. My family's dead and Equestria hates me, he thought, so why do I even make an attempt to go on living anyway? As his hooves scraped through the mess of roots, searching for the solid ground, he suddenly noticed an ominous glow of light blue underneath them. Whatever was down there was better than getting eaten alive, he decided. He struggled against the throns, ignoring the terrible pain it was causing him. He must escape! The pack had appeared from the gloomy dark of the forest, and they were hungrily closing in. Back, forth, right, left. He could feel entangled feathers dropping from his wings and releasing tension. It wasn't too late. Not yet, if he fought for it. Before he had time to notice, the stallion fell through the thin layer of weeds, landing with a terrific splash. He was deep underwater, cloaked in the eerie light of a fathomless pool. He desperately flapped his damaged wings, even though they were useless when submerged. Air. Is what I need. He forced himself into doing an unnatural sort of paddling with all four hooves. It was a fight against the bright turquoise water. It was invisibly putting pressure on his lungs. Up he went, into that blessed direction - the opposite of death and mire and depths and drowning. More loose feathers detached from the unrecognizable appendages on his back as he swam. Would he live, or not? Just as the green pegasus was about to break the surface, he glimpsed the wooden jaws of those ravenous predators hovering above the pool. Waiting. He rapidly allowed himself to sink. Under the water, one found thinking to be almost spontaneous. It was because of this that Woodland Canopy realized he had found what he was looking for: The Pool of Oblivion. This pool was an obscure legend, fabled to consist partially of the Mirror Pool's water (for it was an offshoot) and partially of the raw, wild, untamed magic openly present in the Everfree. The waters of this pool were rumored to have the extraordinary power of erasing your existence - or, at least making everyone else forget it. As he saw it, it was a way to start over. But a little quick thinking never hurt. The stallion was absolutely certain he had identified the pack's alpha. Even in the night's jet, it was easy to tell. The brute was enormous, with jagged, thorny branches poking out from his back, and hardly a leaf to balance it all. Fast as lightning, he jumped from the pool and splashed its enchanted water right in the alpha's unsuspecting face. After he had done this, the other timberwolves instantly turned to the now new stranger, crowding around him. Thinking they were playing, the former leader snapped at them. He started a fight. Woodland ran, taking advantage of the diversion. He ran for miles, where he normally would have flown. He was sturdy and tough, if a bit cross (losing his family was not a particularly joyful thing). Who would have expected he'd accomplish his goal by accident? Now, he could go back and start his life anew, for, in the world, no memory (and therefore, no hatred) remained. A long time ago, Woodland had been a happy, reckless carefree young stallion, but that was before he fell in love with a changeling. He was devastated to have lost her to the bond of her hive. The pegasus stopped running once he reached the makeshift "home" he had created for himself. It could be described as down-to-earth, but certainly not in a literal manner, for the large, organic structure had been hoisted into the treetops using his own strength. Consisting mostly of twisted branches and the dried fibers of wild, possibly dangerous plants, it resembled a gigantic weaver bird's nest. He put extra care into strengthening its complex braided masses, created for holding the dwelling in place every single day. And he had made a living in that forest for a number of years, all by himself. Even he hadn't quite convinced himself that this nightmare was most assuredly reality. Finding his once fine wings rendered useless, Woodland proceeded to clamber up the trunk of the aspen nearest to his "nest." Which, of course, was not easy with hooves. Big, round, smooth hooves clashing against both the papery thin and rough, wrinkly sections of bark. Sweat streamed down his neck as he gradually realized his own security measures were too much for him. He slid back down, scraping his fetlocks. What to do now? He'd planned on leaving the Everfree after gathering his few possessions up, but that route was blocked off now. The door was closed. He would just have to go on, wouldn't he? Sighing in defeat, he glanced back up at the suspended structure which would never be reached again. It held the only thing he really wanted - the one and only family picture. It would be frivolous to say he lived for a picture, but that small print was his physical treasure to remember them by, a minute thread reaching through the hazy, sparkling dust in the vast caverns of time to connect two drastically different eras. He squeezed his eyes shut, mentally going over the image that had frozen a moment long past for all eternity. Maxilla, beloved Maxilla, with her beautiful, translucent turquoise mane and her gentle, tranquil eyes. One might claim there was hardly any genetic variation in changelings, but, if you really got to know one, you'd be able to tell them apart from the swarm by one infinitesimal quirk. And the tiny filly, such a queer thing (ugly by the standards of some), yet beloved all the same. It was a pity they hadn't gotten to name her before the last meeting. Then, he thought of how he looked in that picture. Younger, more carefree, and probably a whole lot more civil. He didn't know what his appearance betrayed now - there was no time to go searching for clear pools of water, and sitting, staring at a mere reflection was a terrible way to waste a life. Maybe he'd do it for a mirror of Maxilla, safe and living and well, but not himself. Never himself. Vanity was a disease of pride, he thought. The chartreuse stallion tore himself from the musings he had been making over the past. He must pull himself forward and start anew. This night, it was the night of the embarkment upon his journey back to real life.
