Author's Note

Pride and Accomplishment takes place in during Less is Metamora, between Celestia's and Chrysalis's visits.
This chapter brought to you by Fishsticks as part of the Extra Chapter Challenge.

Changelings don't have social anxiety. When they go in disguise, they can't afford to slip up, can't afford to make a mistake. But what happens when the disguise comes off?

[Bonus][Epilogue] Pride and Accomplishment

“Good morning, Chrysalis,” Celestia called, trotting up behind you, “I’m glad to see you’re finding your way around the castle.”

“Yes, it was quite the puzzle at first. Even with the underhanded knowledge I’ve gathered over the years,” you agree, “I couldn’t be more appreciative, though, of everything you have done to make me feel welcome here.”

“You are welcome here, Chrysalis. I never thought I’d see the day where I could consider you an ally, a friend.” Celestia admitted, “But you’ve been that and more since the events in Ponyville.”

“No deed can ever repay what I’ve taken from you, but I am determined to try nonetheless,” you promise, “whatever assistance I can be to your empire-”

“Our empire,” Celestia smiled, the warmth in her voice matching the warmth in her emotions, “don’t divorce yourself from the beautiful thing you helped create.”

“Thank you, Princess, but your subjects number in the many of thousands and mine in the few of hundreds. I can claim only the smallest part to play in bringing us together.”

“Sometimes the smallest parts are the most delicate. The most delicate parts the most intricate. The most intricate parts the most integral.”

“I appreciate your flattery, but I am neither intricate nor delicate,” you disagree, “You, your sister, even my own Metamora - you are all beautifully complex creatures, but I... I have only ever been brutishly moved by hunger. Now that I’ll never hunger again… What should motivate me?”

“What indeed,” Celestia responded, “I can’t answer that for you, but I would love to help you find out.”

“Do I deserve help?” you ask, “After all I’ve done?”

“Mistakes are intrinsic,” she lectured, “Learning from them is the true test of character.”

“I want to say I’ve learned from…” you sigh, “from everything. But my revelation was gift-wrapped for me three times before I finally understood. Now I’m being consoled over my own crisis of confidence by a mare that is as morally pure as she is beautiful-”

Did you actually just say that? Judging by the laser focus of Celestia’s attention and the delightful dance of scarlet on her cheeks, you did.

“Sorry, that was improper of me. My mouth moves ahead of my mind as of late. It was much easier to keep my thoughts in check when they weren’t driven by my own emotions.”

“I take no offense,” Celestia soothed, “I don’t think anypony would turn away from being told they were morally pure.”

“That wasn’t…”

“I know,” Celestia teased, “Can I ask though, was that just idle chatter or do you actually-”

“Celestia!” you admonish. Was this a thing that friends did? She wasn’t making fun of you, but her delight in your embarrassment was tangible even ignoring your ability to taste emotions. Nonetheless, she asked you a question and you owed a debt of honesty, “…I meant what I said.”

“Well I’m flattered. I think you’re beautiful as well.”

“No you don’t,” you denied, “You don’t have to pretend to reciprocate the wanderings of my unbidden tongue.”

“I’m not pretending, never in matters of the heart,” Celestia mused, “And I think we can both grow to enjoy the efforts of your unbidden tongue and any reciprocity it may bring.”

Now you were the one blushing. It wasn’t enough that you had shown your hand, or even that you were beginning to realize that you were painfully attracted to the wonderful, regal, majestic princess who had as of late become as much a maternal figure as she had a friend. The real tragedy here was that the more she spoke, the more she radiated warmth and kindness and happiness at you, the more you wanted to conquer her in the one remaining domain where you may still hold the upper hand…

“The bedroom…” you thought aloud. Instantly you realized what you had done. It appears you were ironically cursed to be as transparent with your emotions as ponies usually were to a Changeling.

“Oh my, how forward of you,” Celestia gasped. There was something in her reaction though that confused you. She wasn’t amused by your slip, wasn’t holding in laughter or biding her disapproval. She hadn’t the slightest of context on why you chose to string together those two fateful words. Could you… could you flip the script?

“You’re right, I am forward. Some would bury their desire behind hidden meaning, but in the end, they have needs the same as I. Your innuendo is just as shameful as my indiscretion, but while I’m prepared to lap directly at your desire, you are content merely to fan the flames.”

“I…” she shuddered, her breathing suddenly heavy. You still had every ounce of your Changeling charm.

“There’s fear in your voice, Celestia,” you declare, “you know you don’t have to fear me.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” she responded, as much a declaration of goodwill as it was an attempt to defray further question.

“No,” you agreed, reading her emotions once more and realizing your mistake, “You aren’t scared of me, you’re scared like me. I know why I’m terrified of feeling things, but what of your emotions scares you, Celestia?”

Realizing that Celestia was vulnerable too should have filled you with confidence, but instead it filled you with unease. Being afraid of yourself was a cruel punishment, and she didn’t deserve that.

“I make mistakes when I lead with my heart. I scared off Twilight, then I… when Anon was still…”

“Somepony once told me mistakes are intrinsic,” you nurtured, “How about we learn from them together?”

“I’d like that, I think.”

“Then let’s go make a beautiful mistake,” you agreed.

“Thank you, Chrysalis,” Celestia said, her voice sincere, vulnerable, “Letting myself go is new to me.”

“You’re not the only one,” you confirmed, feeling the heat of her magical embrace preparing to whisk you off to her chambers, “I’m glad you can understand.”

“What form would you have me take,” you asked, “I can be the mare, or stallion, of your dreams.”

“I thought this was for both of us?” Celestia asked, stepping closer to you and making you inch backwards towards her bed.

“The form I take is irrelevant to my enjoyment,” you explain, standing your ground “So ask of me whatever makes your heart fullest.”

“I don’t need you to change, Chrysalis.”

“Really, I don’t mind,” you assure her, “Surely you’d rather look at another form than mine.”

“No, truly, I don’t want you to take another form for my benefit. I’ve hidden from my feelings enough, using you to perpetrate the lie would only hurt more.”

“I understand,” you concede, “A transformation into something unique, then?”

“It is my sole intention to bed the most beautiful Changeling that I have ever set my eyes upon, and give her as much love as possible in the process.”

“I see why you’ve come to me then,” you admit, already beginning to imagine the form, “There’s not much likelihood that Metamora would be inclined, given her mood of late.”

“Metamora?” Celestia asked in surprise, interrupting your concentration, “She is definitely beautiful and will no doubt become a skilled ruler, but she has not the cutting edge of your wit nor the skills honed over years on the throne.”

“I’m not beautiful,” you disagree, “I’m a wretched creature, as disgusting outside as I ever was in.”

“Not too long ago, I would have agreed with you,” Celestia capitulated, stepping to your side and looking at you with an admiration you could feel.

“What changed?”

“Context,” she whispered breathily in your ear, “I used to see you as a monster because I didn’t understand you. I used to interpret Changelings as nothing more than weapons of flesh and blood, because that’s all I could conceptualize. But now… I can see past that ancient fear.”

You couldn’t think to respond. Everything she said rang true, but you weren’t sure if that hurt - or if it should.

“Your horn for example,” Celestia continued, her breath hot against that selfsame organ, “In my darkest nightmares I never feared its magic, only the sharp, jagged edge. Now I’ve seen… I’ve felt the power you conceal inside that obsidian spire.”

Oh hive, was she really… Certainly she couldn’t know the effect a simple kiss would have.

“Your chitin was always a shield, a covering for the weakness I knew filled you,” she again explained, nipping her way down your neck, “but now it’s a container, a chalice full to overflowing of strength, love, beauty.”

You weren’t sure why you were tearing up. Was it knowing what you had been, or hearing what you’d become?

“Your wings, I imagined them a coward’s tool built to escape justice and punishment, now they're a majestic part of your regal air,” she expounded, blowing gently across the sensitive membranes, “and how they buzz when you’re aroused… delicious.”

You were embarrassed that your body would betray you so, but you could read where this was going. What came next happened on the bed, her bed. She swiftly joined you, rolling you onto your back with a lover’s delicate caress.

“And what you conceal between your legs,” Celestia refocused, nudging your hindlegs apart, “Well that will always be a weapon of seduction. One glance enough to indenture the most resolute of ponies in blissful, eternal servitude.”

If she had as much a way with actions as she did with words, you would…

“C-Celestia!” you screamed, her playful tonguework on your drenched marehood the most intense feeling you had ever known.

“Why did we ever wait so long?” Celestia asked, a longing sadness in her voice.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, hearing and feeling the desperation, the disappointment in her voice, “Let’s make up for lost time.”

The brisk motion of her tongue was the only indication you had of her affirmation. Your vision was focused instead on the mark of the sun on her flank, almost mocking you as it concealed just out of reach the burning heat you truly wished to look upon. And you had never allowed yourself to be mocked, to be denied that which you wanted. Now was no different as you didn’t even have to think before your magic enveloped Celestia and flipped her inelegantly onto her back.

“C-Chrysalis?” she asked, shuddering as she witnessed the hunger in your eyes.

“Don’t worry, my princess,” you reassured, preparing to delve between her thighs, “You’re in good hooves.”

You kept your word, repeating the same actions that she so valiantly performed upon you. Her squeak of surprise died as you refused to let up, giving way to a forceful exhale and finally to ragged, uneven breaths. Your senses were bombarded by perfection, her taste, her voice, her beautiful, wonderful heart. Making love to her was a drug, and you were resigned to your addiction.

But just when you thought your mind was full with what you were already experiencing, you felt the heat of her tongue once more. Her touch was the final straw, the lone remaining holdout of your mind that had just lost the battle against rational thought. Now there was only biology. Only the beating of hearts, the moving of limbs, heat, pleasure, love. Love as real, as potent, as beautiful as anything you could imagine. It flooded your mind like nothing else ever could, singing away regrets, burning down hostilities, bathing you in truth, in oneness, in her.

“I love you, Chrysalis,” you heard at the edge of reality, “Please, please, please let me love you.”

“I-” you tried, steeling yourself against the terrifying tide of her incorruptible love. “I want to-”

“It’s okay, Chrysalis,” her soothing, motherly voice came. Did you hear disappointment, or were you just imagining it?

“No,” you declared, finding a foothold within yourself, “I want to.”

This time it was a declaration. You felt the world around you fill with saccharine green magic, sealing away everything that wasn’t you or Celestia.

“I love you, Celestia!” you screamed.

This. This was love.