From Chrysalis to Butterfly

Dreams are carnivals where someone else has won the prize.

If the empire had been a carnival, the Changelings certainly wouldn't have won any prizes. Not for enthusiasm, at least. When the queen led the search party in, she had expected . . . something. An uproar of a sort. At a time like this it might actually be nice to be a pony like Celestia—she'd have Pinkie Pie at command to throw as large a party as she wanted. Because what she saw when she entered the palace wasn't the sort of party she'd have liked to see. Not even close.

It was a better thing than she'd expected, Chrysalis spending the night in the woods. It gave her the  perfect opportunity for a semi-dramatic reappearance.

As soon as the queen opened the door the royal hallway fell silent. Whispered tones hushed towards the back of the room, through the doorways, warning other Changelings: Chrysalis was here, and she was looking pretty pissed.

Of course, Chrysalis had expected chatter. She'd expected some sort of gap in the noise when she stepped into the hall. She had not expected this. She had not expected Changelings hanging from the ceiling, pony prisoners bound tightly in cocoons, draining of the emergency love stores—she had not expected such disobedience, such disrespect, such . . . ugh. There simply was not a word for it.

Chrysalis knew she'd never been loved as a ruler, not by her subjects and definitely not by outsiders. But if this was a clear portrayal of her subjects love—or lack of it—for her, it gave new meaning to the phrase "definitely not by outsiders."

Crud, thought the queen. This is what they do with their free time? I'm a bucking tyrant.

She cleared her throat, unleashing a new wave of noise from her subjects. The muffled flutter of Changelings lowering themselves onto the floor, the whiffs of frantic escape attempts, teleporting hastily to their own rooms, all the eyes suddenly shifting downwards as if the movement had been practiced for weeks. The apologies.

Half of them even sounded sincere.

Letting the confusion do the talking for her, Chrysalis stood tall. She was a leader, they were nothing but followers. If they couldn't handle eight hours by themselves, she'd put them all through school again if she had to. And by the look of it, she might just have to.

Coughing loudly, the queen wordlessly summoned silence once again. She spoke.

"Anyone who does not belong here will leave immediately."

Poof. Almost as easy as getting rid of Cadence. That left only the guards. The ones who had been partying, that is.

"The rest of you will spend the night in the dungeon."

Worried glances. Ears laid back. Submissive positions.

She grinned. "Don't worry, it's a lot better than the woods."

The next morning was worse than the previous night. It was true that Chrysalis had recovered from moping. She had accepted and moved past Equestria. But that didn't mean the Changelings had moved on. Moved on meant forgiving, maybe even forgetting. But forgiveness required emotion. A lot of it.

Forgiveness required love.

And if there was one thing Changelings lacked, it was love. The reason why love was there main source of food? It was as they taught it in Equestria: in life, you need only five things to live. Food, water, shelter, air and love. And since the Changelings would never be able to produce enough on their on, they had no choice but to borrow some from strangers. They weren't hurting them—just depriving them. And only a little, at that.

The Changelings were upset. If they couldn't love, they could still feel. And maybe they didn't feel strongly, maybe they didn't understand what they were feeling exactly. . . . But they could definitely feel.

And it was becoming increasingly obvious that they were not feeling good.

She took a deep breath and began to speak, hesitation clear, as if no attempt had been made to hide it.

"I am aware that our recent . . . expedition has not gone as planned. There is a shortage of solid food now, and virtually no emotion left. We may have to break into our emergency stores soon." She frowned, remembering that they had already been broken into. She considered bringing it up, but said nothing except, "Strangely enough, I fear that our stores may be lower than I thought. This leaves us with a problem, and problems need plans. Luckily, I have one."

There was a smattering of unenthusiastic applause that covered the quiet exchanges taking place between the Changelings.

"They have won the battle, but we have yet to win the war. Our defeat was very recent, was it not? More likely than not, the ponies are still licking their wounds and reestablishing order. The ordeal has been difficult for us, yes, but they will not expect us to attack so soon! Shining Armor and Cadence are to be easily defeated, and Twilight Sparkle and her friends are resting back in Ponyville. Celestia will be focusing on the recovery and defense of her land, as will Luna. Everypony will have their hooves more than full.

"That, of course, is when we will strike."

Chrysalis watched as the Changelings spoke softly among themselves. She thought she saw faint smiles on their faces, but they vanished the second she looked.

A few of her officials were looking concerned, and Chrysalis might have overhead one saying, "Yet another of our Queen's plans. If this one fails as well, I would be just about ready to find a new ruler."

"I am with you. In fact I do not think it is worth even trying out this one."

Heads turned to face the officials, and more voices rose out from the crowd.

"We have trusted you for too long, Your Majesty!"

"This will not work. This will not work!"

Chrysalis cleared her throat,

and the crowd settled down immediately, the eyes of her faithful subjects locked with hers, and a glance passed between her and her kingdom that said this will work!, and everyone nodded to themselves and they followed her loyally back to Canterlot—

but that didn't happen.

They fought and they swarmed, a huge mass of buzzing Changelings, and advanced towards their Queen. She shrieked and dissolved into a common peasant Changeling, merging into the crowd and running as fast as she could.

They chased her for a mile, but knew that she would die without them anyway, and the Queen was alone again for the second time in twenty-four hours.