A Sweet and Seemly Thingby FreglzChaptersA Changeling Comes to CourtThe Good in the BadTwo MothersThe Wolves WithinEven the BravestVictory in DefeatA Changeling Comes to CourtChains bound Queen Chrysalis in the centre of the throne room, and guards watched her, but no eyes were more piercing than the ones glaring at her from the throne itself. Yet try as they might, they couldn’t restrain her smile. “It’s good to see you again, my dear princess,” she said, every note in her voice as light as a feather, then peered to her left and gently bowed. “And you too, former husband-to-be.” Neither Cadance nor Shining Armor appeared the least bit amused; where the captain of the household guard had to maintain composure if he hoped to lead his troops by example, his wife had no such obligation. Her ears were flat, her brows low and furrowed, and the corners of her mouth downturned. For a mare so renowned for her beauty, it truly was an ugly look, and one Chrysalis delighted in. “Long time no see, as they say.” “Not long enough,” the princess groused. Even sounding assertive hardly suited her, like a mouse thinking itself a lion. “Why are you here?” “Oh my sweet child,” Chrysalis chuckled, “we both know there are more intelligent questions to ask.” Cadance deepened her boorish frown, a sight that would make even the Ghastly Gorge blush. Her husband burned with resentment, no doubt itching for his mistress to say the word and let him gag their greatest adversary. But the young princess said nothing of the sort, and merely continued to scowl. “Is it not enough that I simply wish to visit a couple of old friends?” Cold flames sparked behind her violet eyes, and her lips peeled back like flaking paint into a hideous snarl. “You kidnapped me, impersonated me at my wedding, hypnotised my fiance and left me and his sister to rot in the catacombs, hoping she’d kill me because she thought I was you.” Chrysalis beamed only brighter. “Adversity forges the strongest bonds.” “Oh yes, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you? Considering how often you’ve tried taking over Equestria, and failed.” Her grin remained, without even the faintest hint of irritation. “Lessons were learned.” “Which brings me back to now.” Cadance leered forward. “You’re up to something. Everypony knows it. How giving yourself up on a silver platter plays into it, though… that’s what I’m having trouble with.” “Or perhaps I’ve merely accepted the inevitable.” Chrysalis glanced down at the collar around her neck, traced one of its chains to the unicorn holding it, and stared at him from the corner of her eye just long enough to see his stalwart gaze waver. “Why waste energy on wars I’ll never win? Where’s the fun in that?” “As I recall, ‘fun’ wasn’t on your list of priorities when you were swearing vengeance.” “Passions were high.” The queen lessened her grin to an amiable smile, cocking her head in a quaint and entirely innocent manner. “I’m sure you can appreciate that, being the Princess of Love. And mother to a beautiful little girl, as I’ve heard.” Cadance stiffened, ears standing at attention as the feathers in her wings puffed out like the hair on the back of a frightened cat. “What does my daughter have to do with any of this?” “Oh, nothing, nothing at all. I simply mean to remind you, one mother to another, that we often say things we don’t truly believe in the heat of the moment.” A pregnant pause settled, the air so thin and silent it was as if the two were standing snout to snout, clutching daggers they both knew they had beneath their cloaks. “Some more than others, I suspect.” Chrysalis laughed and took a step closer, only to feel iron dig into her carapace as the guards yanked on her short leash. Nonetheless, she rolled her eyes and blithely shook her head. “Oh, Mi Amore Cadenza, my dear, sweet Cadance, I would never lie to you. What good would it do? The last thing I’d want is to sour your judgement of me. Unless of course you don’t believe in second chances.” “I believe you lost my respect long ago, and you’ve had more than enough chances since then.” There was another pause, and the queen’s smile withered itself down into a quiet, shrewd smirk; every code had its pattern, every defence had its flaw, no matter how polished and refined. “Once a villain, always a villain.” “If that is how you wish to see it.” Shining Armor glanced at his wife, too quick to catch the emotion behind it, but the action itself reeked of a fascinating cocktail. Shock, confusion, a dash of outrage and a pinch of anger – Chrysalis could smell and practically taste it all, even with the ring around her horn. For as much as he loved her, he evidently agreed more with his sister than his wife. None of this was exactly important information, or even secret if one were observant, but knowledge in any form could be a potent instrument. All it required was a changeling’s touch, and centuries of experience in how to apply it. “No!” All eyes in the throne room snapped to the ceiling, and to everyone’s surprise, even Chrysalis’, a young alicorn stood on all fours looking back at them as if they were upside down. The golden glow of her horn dimmed and her hooves came loose from the roof, whereupon she spun about midair and spread a pair of resplendent wings. Her flight spiralled, descending, and soon she was trotting along the crystalline floor and onto the carpet. “You can’t do that, Mom,” she declared, putting herself between Cadance and Chrysalis, though while her tone was defiant her expression was anxious – brows upturned and ears lowered. “That’s not how we’re supposed to treat people like her.” Chrysalis blinked. Rare were the moments where she found herself unsure how to react, but this was apparently such an occasion; she’d expected an eavesdropper or two, and Flurry Heart would’ve likely been among them, but for the filly to advocate for her? That was interesting. And possibly quite beneficial. The father didn’t see it that way, however, and marched forward with ears pinned rearward and reproach in his gaze. “Flurry Heart, get out of here, now.” “No.” The daughter shook her head and withdrew a couple of steps, accidentally bumping her flank into the queen’s leg. “You’re not saying anything about it either, so… someone needs to. And if that someone has to be me, then I’ll do it.” “Stay away from her!” Cadance barked, leaping from her seat and swooping down from her pedestal like a hawk – sacrificing the high ground to get up close and personal. “Whatever your point is, Flurry, you have no business being here. That creature has tried destroying our family more times than I can count and deserves nothing from us.” “Oh please,” Chrysalis scoffed, “you’re taking this all much too personally. There was never an issue I had with your family, just those who stood in my way.” “As if that makes it any better.” “Is this the Princess of Love talking, or the scorned mare?” “Enough!” Flurry interrupted, tearing herself from Chrysalis and keeping distance between her mother, an anguished look upon her face. “I… know who she is, Mom. I know what she’s done. And I haven’t forgotten that. But Auntie Twilight believes in forgiveness. We should too.” Chrysalis peered across at her, the daughter of this haggard strumpet, and gently cocked an eyebrow. She’d actually planned on making a similar argument herself, albeit with a more… provocative flair. Even if their intentions weren’t the same, she couldn’t help acknowledging the little tyke’s acumen, and perhaps the fact that Flurry had said it first would yet prove useful. Cadance merely shook her head. “There must be consequences.” “Unless you’re Starlight Glimmer,” Chrysalis chimed, and grinned when she felt their confusion tingle throughout her body. “Or have you forgotten? She deceived an entire village into giving up their marks, planned to expand this movement across the whole of ponykind, meddled with time itself, and then very nearly destroyed the entire world out of spite. The most she received was a lecture from Twilight. Even the village welcomed her back with open arms. So if that is how Equestria treats its enemies, shouldn’t I be owed the same duty of care?” The princess narrowed her eyes and snarled, bristling with enmity. “She at least showed remorse.” “And I came here at her request,” the queen countered, hardening her brows, adding a cold and indignant edge to her voice. “She convinced me to see you, promised that none of you truly wished any harm on me. Evidently she was mistaken.” Shining Armor strode over, fixing her with eyes that once gazed upon her with reverence and ecstasy. “It’s hard to let go of a grudge when you stole my wife and used me like a puppet.” “My dear, please, you belittle yourself.” Chrysalis chortled, adding a sprinkle of playful condescension. “You were so much more than that. Besides, I know for a fact you enjoyed the time we spent together, while it lasted.” “Don’t you dare play that card around here.” Cadance stomped forward and shoved her muzzle in close. The difference in their height was laughable. “My husband is loyal, a good stallion and a loving father, and if you ever disrespect him again, I’ll have you locked in the dungeons and throw away the key.” Such venom, such vitriol – scarcely a substitute for the sweetness of pure, unfettered love, but coming from her it was delectable all the same. “What would Twilight say to that, I wonder?” “I am not Twilight.” “Clearly. She’s far more… principled.” “Okay, I said that’s enough,” Flurry reaffirmed, shouldering herself between them and pushing her forehooves against the queen’s breast. She wasn’t strong enough to force her back, but Chrysalis nevertheless humoured her, and the guards slackened their grip just a little. “You gave yourself up for a reason. What do you want?” Her cyan eyes shone with conviction – a sense of unshakable faith in the lessons she’d been taught, the stories she’d been told. Barely fifteen years and this Twilight Sparkle had already become legend, inspiring the next generation. The very notion of it was… bothersome. But Chrysalis continued beaming a gracious smile and, after a brief moment to remind herself why she’d come here, what she’d set out to accomplish, she put a hoof forward and slowly bowed. “Peace.” “Peace?” the prince-consort spat. “After everything you said about my wife? About us?” Cadance snorted in disdain. “She certainly has a funny way of asking for it.” “I do not ‘ask’,” Chrysalis snapped, standing straight, “I take, one way or another, as I’ve done for centuries. But I’m not above admitting defeat. And make no mistake, you have beaten me. Robbed me. Of my dignity and my family. Left me with nothing and no one, but the echoes, the memories of everything I once had, all I did and endured for them. My children. Who’ve now outgrown me. Become… twisted versions of themselves. Because they suddenly trusted some… miserable worm mindlessly blathering on about the philosophy you preach, so high and mighty and sanctimonious.” The entire throne room fell into an almost deathly silence, where even the first breath might cut the invisible wires and set off a trap. The guards, dutifully, remained quiet and still, if a little unnerved, and the same could be said for Shining Armor. Flurry appeared horrified, eyes wide and mouth lolling open, where Cadance merely blinked. Queen Chrysalis, however, bared her fangs and snarled, glaring back at the princess with steam rising from her ears. “I won’t grovel for mercy like the spineless sycophants you’re accustomed to. I will have it because you will give it.” Nobody in the hall dared move a muscle; over a thousand years of experience and hardship fueled her indignation, and she would quash anyone who downplayed her pain. They knew this, and they were right to be afraid. It was the only solace she could find, the only twig that hadn’t snapped, to keep herself from lashing out. Ponies were indeed fearful creatures. Some better at hiding it than others, either through training or through their own nature. But even the bravest could be frightened by sudden terrors – why else would they restrain her, if they did not fear what she could do? And before too long, they would know how much fight was left in her yet. She still had a plan, after all. “And I’ll help you,” said Flurry. Chrysalis peered at her and, despite herself, felt the cold, unwelcome shiver of surprise course through her veins. It wasn’t because the filly’s assertion had thrown a wrench into the works, but because her lowered ears, upturned brows and wide eyes glistened with pity. She’d suffered enough of it from Starlight already. Cadance slammed her hoof. “No.” “Yes.” Flurry steeled her gaze and shuffled closer to Chrysalis once again, almost standing alongside her. “She needs someone to give her a chance. If you won’t, I will.” “Or we could let Twilight handle this.” “And pass our problems on to her? We need to take responsibility, Mom.” “No, we don’t,” the princess growled. “We’re not obligated to help her, all because, what, she says she wants peace? She hasn’t even apologised for all she’s done!” “There’s no use for apologies, Mi Amore,” Chrysalis intoned, leering back at her. “Friends are honest with each other, are they not? We both know I’d only be lying.” Cadance prowled a step forward and glared daggers. “You have no friends here.” “Mother…” Flurry implored. “Please…” She paid her an irritated glance, which slowly withered into a weary stare, until she eventually tore her gaze away with a grunt. “But I know Twilight would disagree… and Celestia by extension,” she grumbled, and begrudgingly locked eyes with Chrysalis once more. “Don’t think you’ve won yet, Your Majesty. We’ll find out what you’re planning sooner or later, and when we do… nothing will save you then.” The queen thought about smiling one last time, but settled for a truthful glower instead. “All in due time, child, I assure you.” The Good in the BadThere were conditions, naturally – restrictions on where she could go, what she could do. Cadance and the rest of her equine ilk were an inherently naïve species, but credit where credit was due, they weren’t completely ignorant, and the dampening ring around the queen’s jagged horn was proof enough. But in blind pursuit of Harmony, the ponies revealed and remained their foolish selves. Magic alone could be a truly devastating weapon, control minds against their will, crush mountains into dust, cancel the sky and bring about night everlasting. Yet these powers paled in comparison to the elegance of a different sort, and every changeling knew it. Any magician could cast a spell. Any warrior could swing a blade. Very few could do what Chrysalis did best. “…And that’s all there is for Petition Five-One-Zero,” Flurry announced, levitating the scroll in front of her over to a separate pile, while retrieving another from an opened box. “Petition Five-One-One…” Patience had always been a virtue, and was frankly a necessity in her line of work, but it helped when she found time to unwind a little – loosen the strings that kept the mask in place. Despite herself, listening to the petty woes and complaints of the Empire’s subjects proved rather relaxing, mostly because Cadance had arbitrated them. “What does this one say?” Chrysalis asked, her tone calm and composed. “Another couple in a loveless marriage?” Flurry shook her head. “No, this one’s about… a mare whose advances… aren’t being returned.” A case the throne room had likely heard several hundred times over. Why these hearings appealed so much to Equestrian royalty baffled her, especially if they never seemed to end. After all, it wasn’t the tedium of governance that drew her to the pursuit and preservation of power, but the thrill of the hunt, to outwit both prey and predator. Chrysalis glanced across the room to a guard standing just outside the alcove in which she and Flurry were seated. She doubted it was routine to patrol the palace archives, and coincidentally keep watch over his superior’s daughter, but she took no offence; it meant she was dealing with actual opponents. That being said, if she were in their place, she’d have dealt with a threat like her in the most efficient manner possible: permanently. Such was the weakness of a conscience. “Remind me why you’ve been told to study all these… pleas from the lower caste.” “Not lower,” Flurry replied, peering at Chrysalis with a worried look, “just different. And Mom, Dad and Sunburst say I need to study these in case I become the Princess of Love someday.” “Doesn’t sound like they’ve given you much choice.” There was a pause before her next response. “If not me, who else?” Humble. Quite mature for someone her age. “Fair enough,” the queen admitted, gently nodding. “I see you’ve taken Twilight’s teachings to heart.” “It isn’t that. More like… common sense, I guess. The kind of thing Auntie Applejack is all about.” “I thought she represented honesty.” “Well, yes, but she’s more than just her Element.” Flurry giggled – a quaint little sound – and turned on the bench to face Chrysalis more directly. “It’s good to help people, and I want to do that. If I’m in a position where I’m able, why shouldn’t I?” Not only humble but compassionate too, although that much was evident when she spoke up for her in the throne room. “Very well. So, what does the transcript say?” The filly returned to the scroll and squinted. Perhaps she’d need glasses in the future. “I’ve read about a lot of cases like this in the past. They all ended the same, and this doesn’t appear to be any different. Mom sympathised, but there was nothing she could do. She ruled that if the mare truly cared for the stallion, she’d respect his feelings and find a way to move on. Her judgement, and I quote, is that ‘love cannot be forced’.” Chrysalis gently snorted. Flurry looked up at her again, cocking her head. “What’s so funny?” “What your mother said.” Chrysalis nodded to the parchment in Flurry’s magical grasp. “Of course love can be forced. And I’m surprised someone who claims to be attuned to affairs of the heart would say otherwise. As a matter of fact, there are three methods to gain your target’s affection without their knowledge, one of which your father already experienced.” Flattening her ears and lowering her eyelids to half-mast, Flurry sighed. “When you controlled his mind at the wedding, I know.” “Through a spell, yes.” The queen allowed a self-satisfied smirk creep its way across her muzzle at the memory, how fun it had been, how close she came to succeeding. “There are also potions that do the trick, though the effects can be rather… extreme, if they aren’t correctly brewed. But the most difficult, and consequently most satisfying and rewarding method of all, is to play the Game.” Flurry blinked and arched her brow, and a genuine sense of curiosity radiated from her. “The Game?” “Treat life as you would a grand match of chess, where everyone is a king, yet also a pawn to use and sacrifice, whatever it takes until you are the last piece standing.” She winced and lowered her gaze, curiosity replaced with sombre realisation. “I… don’t know, Your Majesty. That sounds like a pretty callous worldview to me.” “I never said it wasn’t, nor did I say you should adopt it.” Chrysalis leaned forward to regain her focus, draining the smugness from her voice and reining in the arrogance from her face. “My point, child, is that nothing is impossible to those with the will to see it through. Love is a wonderful, beautiful thing, but it can also be dangerous. And that’s a lesson I fear your mother never truly learned.” Flurry looked up at her again. “What do you mean?” “Tell me, do you honestly believe the answer that mare was given would satisfy everyone, if they stood where she did, longing for someone who might never love them back? Would they soldier on with heads held high, determined to put aside their emotions? Would they never think to question her decision? Or would they find the pain unbearable, devouring their resolve until desire and sorrow become poison in their veins?” Shock and horror now stared back at Chrysalis – she had earned the filly’s undivided attention. “Your mother is young. Inexperienced. She was sheltered as a child beneath Celestia’s wing, and now she lives in a palace of her own, with a dutiful husband and loving daughter, and dozens of servants and hundreds of guards waiting on her every whim.” The queen sat a little more upright and peered down at Flurry cheerlessly. “It’s easy to say what others should do, when you’ve lived a privileged life, but the world beyond these walls is rarely so simplistic. I’ve lived long enough to know.” Flurry hesitated, searching for something in the queen’s eyes – perhaps a sense of security or assuredness – but eventually cleared her throat and let the scroll slide onto the table between them. An uneasy atmosphere surrounded her. “So… you’re saying Mom… should’ve forced the stallion to—” “No, not at all.” Chrysalis sternly shook her head, and felt a quiet breath of relief from both Flurry and the guard outside crawl beneath her carapace. “Your mother’s decision was fair, but shortsighted, because it didn’t fix the problem, merely postponed it. If that nameless mare let her affection become obsession, if she hasn’t already, she could’ve taken matters into her own hooves and done something drastic, even criminal.” “You really think so?” She paused, staring off into a nonexistent horizon for a moment, then gently bobbed her head from side to side. “Maybe not. But it’s a possibility. One the Princess of Love shouldn’t ignore. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time repressing emotions led to dire consequences – something Starlight and Luna can attest to.” Flurry glanced outside the alcove and shuffled in place. “I never thought about it like that before.” “Nor would your family approve if you did. It’s a mindset they’re unaccustomed to, which is… good, in a way. But there’s a difference between wisdom and naïveté, and the wise ruler is prepared for anything.” “Even if it means assuming the worst in people?” “Especially the worst.” “Even you?” Chrysalis opened her mouth to speak, but her voice caught somewhere deep in her throat, and she suddenly felt… a chill: the cold and uncomfortable twinge of a sharp object burrowing into her abdomen. She peered down for a brief moment to inspect it, but found nothing, just her chitinous skin, still flaking here and there from her time in the wilds. Whatever it was, however she was supposed to react, she blinked her confusion away and forcibly recomposed herself with a nod. “Yes, even me. Though I’m… sure that should be obvious.” The filly shrugged and, strangely, smiled. “You wouldn’t be giving me advice if you didn’t care.” And now a completely different and far more familiar sensation pulsed through her, sending ripples of warmth into her barrel and along her spine. The frigid blade remained, but it was less painful, and quickly being overwhelmed by this newfound realisation: she at last had a hoof in the door. “Would you like to know more?” Two MothersFlurry had, in her own way, surpassed all expectations. Chrysalis always knew that convincing these ponies to let her into their home would be easy, but assumed that gaining their trust would take far longer; what progress she thought would span months she actually made in a matter of days. Quite surprising, considering how perceptive and analytical the young mare was. Not unlike Twilight when they first clashed. She’d call her gullible, if she weren’t similarly impressed by Flurry’s thirst for knowledge – knowledge her family would never have shared. Despite herself and her intentions, the queen couldn’t help recognising the wisdom of an open mind, and it was refreshing to face a foe she could respect for once. But such thoughts were better left unsaid, or they’d spoil the garden in which she’d grown her lies, each so perfect one could scarcely see the thorns beneath their innocent petals. “I went to Zebrica once, you know.” “Really?” “Indeed.” Chrysalis led Flurry through the corridors of the palace, familiar to her even before she officially arrived. “But only once. You see, the tribes, chiefdoms and empires there are very… spiritual in nature. Shamans travel the land in search of the sick and downtrodden, helping where they can, but the key role they play in everywhere they go… is to determine the truth. And believe me when I say, they’re quite adept at what they do.” “How do you…” Flurry yawned into the bend of a foreleg and rubbed at her eye with a wing. “Pardon me. How do you mean?” “Well, the specifics are a mystery to me – a trade secret, never written down or whispered outside their circles – but they appear to have… a sense when it comes to these things. Similar to earth ponies and their internal compass, or how changelings can feel what others feel.” “And pegasi and their wings?” The queen angled her head and raised an eyebrow. “How do you mean?” “Pegasi can… sense changes in thaumatic pressure through their… their feathers.” Pausing to yawn again, Flurry began to lag behind. “Like unicorns and their horns. It’s all… interconnected.” “…I see,” Chrysalis murmured absently, slowing her pace to match, then curled the corner of her mouth into a smile. “And I also see that someone is in need of a good night’s sleep.” “I’m not that tired, I swear! I just yawn a lot when it gets late.” “Come now, Flurry Heart, I thought we promised to be honest with each other.” “Since when have you ever been?” “Ha! Soon you’ll be witty enough to challenge Discord himself.” The queen chuckled and considered draping a wing or foreleg over her withers, but remembered the height difference and thought better of it. “Until then, however, you still have your limits, little one. Now, don’t be so stubborn like the rest of your aunts and accept it is your bedtime.” “Hey, that’s not fair!” Flurry side-stepped away with a grin and turned to face her. “I’m supposed to be babysitting you!” “Don’t argue with your elders. You know I’m right.” “I know, I know.” She yawned once more and picked up the pace, starting off with a bounce and an eager kick. “But it’s not my fault you kept me up this late. You know I like these stories!” “Yes, it’s all a dastardly ploy to get you in trouble.” Chrysalis lowered her head and softened her voice. “But then again, if I got you in trouble, then I’d be in trouble as well. Who’d be there to teach me about friendship while you’re grounded, hmm?” “Starlight, probably. Or Sunburst. They’re the most available.” She waited until the filly’s attention was firmly grounded on the way ahead – or lost in a daydream, it mattered not – before she straightened her neck and allowed an inkling of disgust to pull on her lips. So many names had been the bane of her existence, and the thought of them finding happiness, especially together, didn’t make her sick as much as it filled her with scalding, resentful bile. But their time would come eventually, she reminded herself. And besides, today had been too nice to end with bitter memories; she had an image to maintain, a mask to wear, a role to play. And as they rounded the corner into Flurry’s bedroom, she flicked on the light switch with a wisp of magic to reveal a candid grin. Toys lay scattered about the floor and clumped in corners, the chest in which they belonged open and empty – the aftermath of a good morning’s romp through imagination. A filly-sized castle stood near the doorway, protected by a hundred odd wooden knights, and a large goosefeather bed lazed at the opposite end, lined with a collection of stuffed animals. The famous Whammy sat at the head of the pack. Flurry was already bounding onto the mattress, and caught every toy she dislodged in her magic before they hit the carpeted floor. It all smelled of… affection… and strawberry and vanilla – freshly cleaned sheets and scented candles – and the queen’s wings fluttered beneath their shields in response. “You’ll need to tidy this place up tomorrow, I reckon,” Chrysalis informed, her tone even and steady as her gait. “The servants may dust and polish your shelves and trinkets, but I’m sure they left your toys alone for a reason.” “Tomorrow.” Flurry burrowed into the quilt and started making room for the rest of her stuffed animals, hugging Whammy close. “It’s nighttime now. I need my sleep.” “So it is.” Flicking the main lights back off and switching the bedside lamp on, Chrysalis strolled forwards and sat on her haunches. “But for the record, I only tell stories when you ask for them, so it actually is your fault that you’re up this late.” “Liar.” “Cross my hearts.” “And hope to fly, stick a cupcake in your eye?” “Yes, even that.” The young mare giggled and pulled the blanket under her chin. “Goodnight, Chryssy.” “Goodnight, little dove.” The queen bowed and gently planted a small, tender kiss on her brow, then beamed with utmost sincerity at the wide eyes and cute button nose squished between toys on either side. Flurry was cosy, snug as a bug in a rug, and the warmth she felt flowed into Chrysalis like a thin coat of water rolling down her hide. “Sweet dreams.” Now it was the lamp’s turn to go out, easing the room into shadow and leaving the pale glow from the hallway as the only source of illumination. The parents were wise to choose a space so deep in the palace as their nursery, but although it made strategic sense, the lack of windows left something to be desired, and the glow-in-the-dark stars that plastered the ceiling were a poor substitute for a naked view of the night sky. Even so, unless she were to somehow convince them both that Flurry deserved to see the sunrise when she woke up, things would remain as they were. And talented though she was in the art of persuasion, she knew that no idea she could propose would be above suspicion. Once a villain, always a villain. Chrysalis stood on all fours once more and walked for the exit, taking care to avoid the silhouettes on the carpet and keep her footfalls quiet. She had her own room to find, and quite a lot of thinking to be done before the break of dawn – conversations to ponder and dissect, new information to memorise. Plans to devise and later put in motion. “Chryssy…” The faint call stayed her hooves halfway from the bed to the door, and she raised her ears and arched an eyebrow as she looked over her shoulder, peering into the gloom. Flurry held her gaze without reply for a moment, unease creeping through the air. But there was courage too – a confidence built upon the many hours they’d spent together. “Do you think you’ll ever want to see your children again?” A question that was bound to rear its ugly head sooner or later; as they were, no, she didn’t care for them, because they’d betrayed her and everything she taught them. But she couldn’t deny their loss had… affected her. Made her less than whole. Driven her into the wilds of the unsettled west, in the hopes that reconnecting with her past would somehow fill the emptiness within. They were alive, at least, but not who they used to be. What she raised them to be. And even if she set the world ablaze, watched as kingdoms and empires cracked and burned beneath the weight of their hubris, they would never welcome her as their queen again. Not unless she, too, surrendered to these… misguided notions of friendship and benevolence. But Flurry expected an answer, not the maddened musings of a matriarch, and Chrysalis knew that saying ‘never’ wouldn’t be acceptable, especially to an acolyte of Twilight herself. “Not yet.” “I think they’d like to see you.” Flurry yawned yet again, then settled back down into the pillow. “You can’t have been that bad, if you cared for them.” Chrysalis flinched internally – why, she wasn’t entirely sure – and that unpleasant, almost painful chill she felt a few days prior returned. Flurry surely meant well, but for whatever reason her words struck deep, and the queen was glad that if her mask had slipped, the shadows would keep her expression in the dark. Choosing to forego another response, she continued walking and shut the door behind her, then closed her eyes and sighed to herself. Every plan had its dangers, some more so than others, and some were doomed to fail from the beginning. Where this one fell on the scale was hard to say for certain, but she hadn’t been prepared to answer questions about a future that didn’t interest her. She’d have to keep that in mind for the rest of her stay, if she could be bothered coming up with a couple of phony responses, the pledge of honesty be damned. “What do you think you’re doing?” Her eyes languidly opened and she looked to her left. Cadance glared back at her, just over a few strides away. She must’ve been coming to bid Flurry her own goodnight when she caught sight of Chrysalis exiting the bedroom. Without her peytral and assorted regalia, and her mane tied in a loose bun for the night, she seemed almost ordinary – perhaps even a common servant, if it weren’t for the horn and wings. Chrysalis quietly groaned and rolled her eyes, turning in the opposite direction and heading for her room. “I’m not in the mood, Candy.” “You’re also not meant to be in there,” the mare groused, matching her pace. “Or have you forgotten that you’re only here because I allow it? You’re on thin ice, Chrysalis, so one more infringement like that and you’ll be spending the rest of your days in a cell.” “You know, for the Princess of Love, I haven’t seen much of it from you.” “What’s there to love in you?” The queen scowled. “Something Flurry sees that you don’t,” she rumbled, using her next step to pivot and stand side-on to Cadance, blocking the corridor. “You could learn a thing or two from her, or any of her aunts, if you were as open to change as I am.” “But this isn’t about change, is it?!” barked Cadance, flattening her ears and flaring her wings, slamming both forehooves so hard into the floor that it nearly shook the walls. “You’re no different from when we beat you the last time, are you? Which means this is another one of your schemes, and I don’t need to be the Element of Honesty to see it. Whatever you’re plotting, however my daughter fits into it, you won’t succeed, so the instant I catch a whiff that you’ve been a bad influence on her, that’s it.” If she weren’t constrained by the ring and her own façade, Chrysalis would’ve slapped her like the insolent brat she was. She hadn’t endured for millennia. She hadn’t suffered for tens of thousands of children – bled for them, and worse. She was a foal, a mere babe, pretending to be a princess, and she had the audacity to address a queen in that tone of voice, and threaten her as if she were more experienced. Chrysalis gritted her teeth and bared the tips of her fangs, tensing her haunches, itching and quietly praying for an excuse to pounce – throw caution to the wind and tear flesh, crush bone in its place. “No more chances.” Cadance straightened herself a little, but still had the wild look of a jealous mare scorned. “Come what may from Twilight and her friends, even Celestia herself, I’ll see to it that you won’t see me, Shining Armor, and especially Flurry Heart ever again.” And in a flash of magic, she was gone, teleported elsewhere in the palace, probably to join her husband in bed and find some comfort in his embrace. For what good that would do either of them. Meanwhile, Chrysalis was left staring at the empty space where she used to be, and suddenly had nowhere to channel her rage. She instead settled for whipping back around with an incensed huff, then continued marching down the corridor, stomping with every step. Who was she to rip another child away from her? The Wolves Within“Your mother is callous.” Chrysalis paced back and forth in an agitated fashion. A trip to the royal gardens hadn’t cooled her temper at all, to a notable lack of surprise; she’d barely slept the previous night, and the guards who patrolled the palace and its grounds reeked of suspicion. Her suspicion. That insidious little mongrel who styled herself as the omniscient and absolute authority on the subject of love. What did she know of its true power? Its inherent curse? How could someone who’d barely finished weaning their firstborn possibly fathom all its aspects, let alone what it meant to be a parent, moreso to a hundred thousand? The complete and utter arrogance of it. “It’s not like that,” Flurry said from her seat on the edge of the central fountain, watching the queen stomping up and down the patterned pavement, but unable to look her in the eye. The air surrounding her fizzled with apprehension. “She’s just trying to protect me.” “From what?” Chrysalis demanded, rounding on her with a livid scowl. “What have I ever said or done to you that you’d call malicious? What possible threat have I posed?” “I don’t know.” “Then answer me, Flurry: why am I so dangerous just because I refuse to bow down, kiss her flank and lick her boots? Why can’t I have dignity in defeat?” The young mare hesitated, ears low and brows upturned, but eventually mustered the courage to meet her gaze. “It’s not dignity you’re asking for if you keep provoking her.” “But I haven’t. I’ve gone out of my way to stay out of her way, and even that isn’t enough. She said it herself: she won’t be satisfied until I stop… ‘manipulating’ you.” She blinked with widening eyes and drew her head back somewhat. “Manipulate me? How? Why?” “My point exactly. There’s nothing left for me to fight for besides stubborn pride, and no good reason for me to trick you either.” Chrysalis glanced left and right, briefly inspecting the bushes and flowering hedges for sentries intent on sticking their noses where they didn’t belong. The guards here were less incompetent than their brethren from Canterlot – undoubtedly because of their captain’s experience. “Perhaps she is trying to protect you, but I'm not your enemy. You know that, don’t you?” Again, Flurry was reluctant to answer, and her attention slipped to the empty space between them, muzzle twisting into an uneasy grimace. “I… know. And I don’t want to disagree with you, Chryssy… but I’m not sure what to say.” She brought a foreleg to her midsection and hugged it close, almost as if she had an upset stomach. “You have to remember that Mom's first impression of you involved getting kidnapped and replaced, and then waiting around in a cave while you and Dad, uh… or planned to…” The sight of her in obvious distress was… troubling. Chrysalis would’ve normally relished the memory of what used to be her most brilliant and masterful scheme, and how close it came to fruition, but something felt wrong inside. Sickly. Rotten. Like rodents gnawing at her intestines. “I can’t imagine what it’s like for her,” Flurry continued with a listless shrug, “but I’m certain it’s hard to move on from something like that. And since you won’t apologise, I think maybe she’s scared of you – scared you’ll do something like that again.” As well she rightly should’ve been. “Scared enough to rob me of my one chance at redemption?” “Not your only chance, no.” The filly fervently shook her head once more. “There’s always Twilight. She’d pick up the slack if Mom doesn’t, though I’m… sure she’d give her a stern talking-to about it.” “You speak as if it’s already come to pass!” Chrysalis cried with more force, more anguish than she’d anticipated, and swung about to resume pacing back and forth. “And that’s all beside the point, isn’t it? Twilight taught you ponies to live your lives with compassion, and to forgive those who seek it. Here I am, and how am I welcomed? With derision, resentment, and callous disregard for my well-being.” Flurry opened her mouth to counter, but appeared to lack the words for it and deflated with a quiet sigh through her nose; she wouldn’t agree, yet neither would she disagree. Perhaps the rift between mother and daughter had widened. “For all the time I spent in exile… do you know what kept me going? Why I didn’t just find a cave or some hole in the ground and let the scavengers feast?” Flurry bit and sucked on her bottom lip and lifted her gaze yet again, watching Chrysalis glower at her from the corner of an eye. Her resolve was strong, of that there was no doubt, but everyone, even heroes as virtuous as Twilight Sparkle herself, had a breaking point. “Hatred.” Chrysalis ceased patrolling the brick path around the fountain and turned away, and suddenly found her breath ragged, her voice scratching at her throat with every syllable. “I… hated… your family. The fact they thwarted my every plan. Stole my children. Lived happy, contented lives in luxury… while I was left with nothing.” Her eyes began to sting – a sleepless night catching up with her – so she closed them. “That… was my existence… in a world that had no place for me. And I’d still be there… if it weren’t for the mare I hated most of all.” “Auntie Starlight.” Pressing her chitinous lips together and clenching her teeth, she slowly and begrudgingly nodded. “She told me… that she hoped I did what’s best for me. As if she hadn’t patronised me enough already. Exploited my loss for your family’s gain.” A cold whisper raced up the queen’s spine as Flurry slid from her perch, the clop of hooves on stone. “I don’t think she meant to patronise you, Chryssy. And my family didn’t gain anyone. But your family… they lost you.” “And why was that?!” Chrysalis snapped, whipping around and retreating… no, withdrawing a couple of steps. She blinked her eyes clear of some kind of fuzziness and stared hard at the young mare’s recoiling form. “Because I was the same mother they’d known all their lives?! Because I suddenly wasn’t good enough for them?! For anyone?!” Flurry shrunk into the fountain’s barrier, ears pinned rearward and wings ruffling at her sides. She wasn’t unlike a mouse who’d been cornered by a cat, wide-eyed and quivering, and it splashed water on the fire raging in the queen’s hearts. Without their heated winds, Chrysalis found her legs weak, unsteady, and her barrel aching as if she’d been crushed between scorching hot boulders. “How could you possibly understand?” she muttered, shaking her head. “How could Cadance, or Twilight, or the Sisters? None of them have been robbed like I have. And nothing… nothing… can replace what they stole.” The young mare noticed her abrupt and unusual lapse, and with a shimmer of empathy she willed herself forward again, despite the nervousness that clearly festered within her. “It doesn’t have to stay that way, Chryssy.” There it was again, that little nickname of hers. The fact she’d barely noticed its use until now was a testament to how far the queen’s focus had slipped. She couldn’t allow that to happen, wouldn’t allow that to happen, and wouldn’t let herself contemplate why it might. “But I must play by your family’s rules for that to happen, mustn’t I?” Flurry shut her mouth. They both knew that wasn’t entirely true – a request for a meeting would likely be granted – but there would be no reunion if Chrysalis refused to renounce her ways. And for all anyone knew, she would never be the changelings’ matriarch again. “There is cruelty in your kindness.” Her upper lip twitched, partly from a sense of smug satisfaction, partly out of disdain, and yet both felt hollow somehow. “So I must wonder… how am I so different from those who were my enemies?” Ears standing tall as she blinked with widening eyes, Flurry stared back at Chrysalis in a tangible mixture of confusion and shock. It tasted sour. Unpleasant. “You manipulated people.” “To get what I wanted, yes,” Chrysalis agreed, forcing herself to ignore the tart flavour she normally craved. “But when your family gets what they want – the taming of Equestria’s last and greatest villain – it’s all for the greater good. Never mind I’m watched by armed guards, that I won’t be free until I change some fundamental part of myself, or that my children were taken in the hopes I’d follow in their stead.” Once more, a closed mouth, and an aroma filled with trepidation. “If there’s one thing your family has taught me, child, it’s that justice is a matter of perspective: something I already knew.” Chrysalis turned her nose up and looked down on Flurry. “From a generation that claims to be so enlightened as yours, I’d have expected more.” “No.” The filly fumbled for a response, practically grasping at straws, and the sharp sting of terror was finally beginning to sink in. “You… you only cared about yourself. You hurt people.” “I hurt those who posed a threat to my children, whether they knew it or not. I was callous to some, not heartless to all. Just like your mother.” Tears formed in her eyes, glistened with betrayal. “Why are you saying this?” “Because I want you to be better,” Chrysalis lied, and saying it aloud took more effort than she thought it would. “Better than either of us. Better than even Twilight herself. Because your family’s message of love and tolerance is too simple for its own good, and ignores the realities of the world they’ve spent so long trying to help. It’s a noble endeavour but flawed, and I’ve shown you how. They’ve never dealt with inequality, with corruption or sickness, or the root causes of how good people turn bad; their lives and status have protected them.” One of the tears broke free, and then the other, and they both soaked a trail into Flurry’s cheeks. It was a wretched sight, but the queen pressed on. “I can show these things to you,” she insisted, lowering her voice to almost a whisper’s pitch. “I can show you what they’re afraid to acknowledge. We can discover the answers, unshackled by their ideals, to make the world a better place. For everyone. And they would thank you for it.” Flurry’s eyes briefly narrowed in a pained look, and then widened even further. “You want me to run away with you?” “A young mare like you should discover yourself on your own terms. You can’t do that here, studying transcripts your parents hope you’ll reenact someday, where they’ll criticise you for every—” “Stop!” she screamed, so loud and distressed that it struck Chrysalis like a hoof to the abdomen. And then with stiff, shivering movements the filly curled into herself at the foot of the fountain. “No, I… I won’t…” Chrysalis didn’t know what to do, much less what to say. For the first time in many years, she found herself completely stunned. And… distraught. Her mind cursed a lack of tact – signs she should’ve seen and compensated for – while her forelegs begged to grasp something and hold it close. Her body was uncomfortably rigid, and her hearts sank to a depth she’d never felt before. She nearly missed the frantic rattle of metal as guards rushed into the central grove, their alarm and enmity as piercing as the spears they carried. “Your Highness!” one of their number cried before absorbing the situation, and then marched toward Chrysalis with hostile intent. “What did you do?” “Nothing,” Flurry murmured, wiping her eyes with a wing and sniffling. “She… she didn’t do anything.” “Then why are you crying?” There was a lengthy pause, and then she shakily rose to all four hooves, careful to avoid the queen’s gaze as she faced the sentry. “I think we need to spend some time apart.” “Wait,” Chrysalis mumbled without control, without purpose beyond the desperate and knowingly futile need to take back what she said, to mend the bond they had. “Wait, little dove, please, I-I-I’m—” “Chryssy, don’t.” Flurry dismally shook her head a final time, and then let out a brokenhearted sigh as she walked for the guards and allowed them to escort her away. “I can’t… be around you. I’ve heard enough. Goodbye.” Even the BravestWhat went wrong? Chrysalis asked herself this question hour after hour all night, replaying and dissecting the incident over and over in her head. What did she miss? Why? How could she have grown so sloppy? And most importantly, what could she do to regain the young mare’s trust? Two days now. Two days without sleep, without a proper stretch of time where she could gather her thoughts. Deception necessitated thinking on the fly, but something about this was different – too… distracting. Disorienting. As if the floor beneath her hooves might suddenly give way, or the world itself flip upside down at a moment’s notice. Even the dim glow of a bedside lamp felt like too much input, too revealing, allowing hidden spies to gauge her emotions or read her mind. She knew her room well enough not to stumble in the dark, but maybe so did they. Perhaps this was her plan all along, to manipulate the manipulator. But she wouldn’t be outdone – couldn’t be outdone – for she was Chrysalis, Master of Deception, Mother to Millions and Matriarch of the Hidden Menace. For a thousand years it was her guile, her wit and will and adaptiveness that ensured the changelings’ survival, whatever the cost. Only a queen of equal standing could defeat her, and so long as she lived, there would never be such a thing. And yet the obstacles surrounding her seemed insurmountable. Oppressive. Trapped in a cage of her own design. “No, no, no,” she grumbled to herself, coming to a halt in front of the dresser, glaring into an abyss. “Not you. Not you. Cadence, she… she did this. Toyed with you the previous night. Hoped you’d… engross yourself in her threats. Yes. Yes, that little… cur, that snake who thinks herself an angel. She’s the one who…” But if she was, then that would mean Chrysalis had been bested. And she knew for a fact that couldn’t be so: she hadn’t given up just yet. Nor had the sun risen, which meant there was still time for her to concoct a new plan of attack before she too was expected to rise. But no progress would be made if she didn’t understand the cause of her rift with Flurry Heart to begin with. “How?” she questioned, resuming the aimless circles that made her feel like she was accomplishing something. “How?” And then she jumped as she heard a knock on the door. She’d forgotten there was a door at all, and it certainly didn’t appear to be where she remembered it being. More curiously, she realised, she hadn’t heard anyone approach. Had she truly been so lost in thought? No, she was always vigilant, always watchful. Nothing, not even the ghost of a smile or the faint twitch of displeasure, slipped by her. They, whoever they were, must’ve taken precautions to stay silent. “Assassins?” They wouldn’t have bothered knocking, nor would they have fit her conduct. Unless the wretch had finally grown wise enough to sink to her cold-blooded level and end things once and for all. But the repercussions, yes, the repercussions would be too great – betraying Twilight’s ideals. She was bound to them, as much as Chrysalis was bound to her self-determined fate. The knocking came again, another three in quick succession. “Chrysalis,” Shining Armor’s voice beckoned, imbued with grim undertones. “Come out. Now.” A single assassin, then, perhaps acting on his own initiative, doing what the love of his life would not. But that didn’t make sense either: he had more reason than anyone to stay in Twilight’s good graces, and he’d been the less bellicose of the pair upon the queen’s arrival, no doubt influenced by his sister. “Now, Chrysalis,” he commanded, and knocked three more times, nearly smashing the door from its hinges. “We’re all getting tired of these games.” Games? No. No, there was only one game she ever played: the Game, where every minute, every precious second of existence was indispensable, and could mean the difference between life and death. The very same game that everyone had a part in, whether they knew it or not. A game where she was champion. Chrysalis turned towards the source of the noise and marched for it, then seized the doorknob in her magical grasp and twisted. “What?” she hissed while baring her fangs, thrusting her head through as the door swung open. Shining Armor stared back at her, nose to nose, unfazed. He wore his distinctive purple barding with gold trim, and a pair of guards flanked either side of him, each armed with swords holstered at their hips – an ideal choice for close-quarters combat. “By the authority and order of Her Royal Highness, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza of the Crystal Empire, Lady of Love and my honoured wife, and with a great deal of personal disappointment… I am hereby placing you under arrest until further notice.” An unwelcome development, but one Chrysalis had most definitely suspected might happen. Callous indeed. “Under what charge?” “Kidnapping, attempted murder, hostile actions against the crown and numerous violations of internationally recognised Equestrian sovereignty,” he elaborated, stone-faced as if he were a statue of pure white marble. “The list is incredibly detailed, well-documented and goes on and on. I can read it all to you once you’re in a cell.” Being captain suited him. Celestia certainly had an eye for talent, and Cadance, for all her infuriating qualities, had chosen well for a mate. “Spare me the pathetic attempts at concealing her true intentions. I know why she sent you.” “Then you know you’ll never see our daughter again.” The tension, the tenor of his voice, so palpable that she could practically swallow its fermented, sparkling essence by the mouthful. And it guided her as the wind would a leaf, easing her lips together from outright contempt to simmering malice. “Come to your senses at last, consort?” “I’m not sorry that you were given a chance. I’m sorry that you wasted it.” With a flick of his ear, he signalled the guards to ready their weapons. “Now, how about you come to your senses and make this easy for everypony?” She eyed his companions – three stallions and a mare – with an equally malignant gaze, before returning to him. “So I shall.” With a sudden burst of speed she yanked herself from the doorway and slammed it shut in his face, and just as Shining splintered the wood in an explosion of raw magic she removed the ring from her horn. Ice-cold flames blazed throughout the room, and before her assailants could do anything about it, Chrysalis unleashed a roar of slag and hellfire. They retreated back into the hall, while she was left free to whirl about and ram her newfound bulk against the opposing wall. The crystalline surface cracked, shattered, and terrified screams pierced through the noise of crumbling debris as Chrysalis took flight from the palace. Leathery wings carried her over the city surrounding it, casting a dreadful silhouette on the dawning sky that eclipsed the vanishing stars. But although she entertained the idea of wholesale devastation, melting their hovels and lavish abodes, random carnage wasn’t her goal. Scales burned into feathers as she came about, aiming headlong for the palace balcony overlooking the central plaza. She dove at blinding speed, then once inside swooped upwards and changed form yet again, this time into a creature that could burrow through solid bedrock. Demolishing one ceiling, emerging from the floor of the next storey, and the next, she finally found herself on the correct level. Lights trembled and flickered as tremors shook the walls, and servants scattered at the sight of her, but once she’d finished scaring off the vermin, she transformed herself one last time, and galloped deeper into the main living quarters. There, close to the centre, she came upon another door, and barged it open without caring to use her magic. Flurry gawked at her with shock and awe from the head of her bed. “M-Mom?” she stammered, hugging her favourite toy snail. “What’s happening? It sounded like—” “It’s okay, Flurry,” Chrysalis soothed, continuing to gallop toward the young mare until she was within reach, where she pulled her into a tight embrace. “It’s okay, I’m here. Mommy’s here.” She pressed her muzzle to Flurry’s forehead for a kiss, and despite the sweet perfume in her mane, she caught the foul, cloying odor of terror as well. “But we need to go. We’re not safe here anymore.” Flurry pushed against her and peered up into her eyes. “What do you mean?” “Not right now, dear.” Pulling the filly by her hoof, Chrysalis led her out of bed and began rushing back the way she came. “Your father is buying us time.” “Time for what?” Flurry cried, and the fear in her voice shot needles deep into the queen’s abdomen. “Is he in danger?” “I’m sure he’s fine.” “W-w-well, we should help him then, shouldn’t we?” “No!” Chrysalis stopped dead in her tracks and glared at Flurry with flattened ears and upturned brows, teeth chattering from the sheer amount of adrenaline coursing through her veins. But she wasn’t angry, barely even annoyed, and the rattled, confused expression she received nearly made her hearts leap to her throat. “He can handle himself. But I won’t… lose you. Not again.” The young mare’s own ears twitched. “Again?” “Never mind.” Chrysalis stiffly shook her head and resumed course for her point of entry. “We don’t have long. Your friend, the changeling, she’s escaped and—” “Chrysalis has escaped?!” “Not now, Flurry Heart. There’s no time. Now, be a good girl and follow Mommy.” She was clearly reluctant, but followed Chrysalis as she leapt up and spread her wings, gliding down through three consecutive holes in the palace’s floors, and finally landing in the atrium before the balcony. The queen grabbed hold of Flurry’s hoof again, felt a brief stab of pain between the plates of her midsection as she glimpsed the filly’s tormented eyes, and then charged with her for the exit. The sound of a pair of double doors opening caught their attention, but while Chrysalis spared it only a fleeting, almost dismissive glance and saw a small contingent of guards, she noticed Flurry was staring. Upon a closer inspection, her stomach dropped. Leading the group was none other than Cadance herself, and she’d already seen them. “That’s not your mother,” Chrysalis weakly muttered, too startled to muster anything better, and continued dashing for the balcony. “That’s not your—” But instead of the freedom of the open air, she crashed into a golden barrier of shimmering magic, so hard that she would’ve broken her neck if it had been solid. She willed herself out of a daze with a couple of blinks and another shake of the head while unsteadily scrambling to her hooves, and just as she pooled spite in her horn, ready for a battle, her vision cleared, It wasn’t Cadance who’d erected the barrier. It was Flurry. “No…” the queen said, tentatively taking an uneasy step toward her. “No, Flurry, it… it’s me. It’s—” “CHRYSALIS!” Cadance roared, more fearsome than a dragon, louder than thunder itself. Chrysalis yanked herself back at the ferocity of it, and couldn’t withdraw any further while the barrier blocked the way. She’d come so close, so very, very close, and this was how it would end – cornered like a rat in a kitchen, her ruse not unmasked through cleverness and deduction, but simple bad luck? She wanted to be mad. She wanted to rage and explode in a giant ball of flames, large enough to incinerate the entire province as she became a leviathan from the ancient days, when monsters ruled land, sea and air. She wanted this. But she couldn’t. Because Flurry was looking her in the eyes, and had tears flowing from her own. “Why, Chryssy?” she breathed, so frail that her mother’s hoofsteps nearly drowned her out entirely. “How… could you?” The betrayal she wept for now tasted like tar in the queen’s mouth; even her own feelings had turned against her. Amongst the shattered remains of the atrium ceiling, shards of crystal everywhere, it seemed as if everything had fallen to pieces. “Because…” she began, then paused as she gulped, a terrible thought crossing her mind as her gaze fell to a shard that was particularly close. And although it sickened her to think about it, she knew there was only one chance left – one desperate bid to enact what she came here to do. “Because I hate you. All of you. And that hate… is all I have left.” Flurry merely shook her head. And it wasn’t disappointment that filled the air around her, or the blunt, tasteless void of rejection, but the bittersweet scent of pity. Chrysalis silently prayed that it wouldn’t change anything. “An eye for an eye,” she dejectedly mumbled, leaning forward with a ragged sigh, only to reach across for the shard and lunge at the filly, then press the jagged tip against her throat as she glowered venomously at the approaching princess. “MY CHILDREN FOR YOURS!” Everyone in the chamber froze. Cadance went pale and, for the first time since the queen arrived, realised that fighting fire with fire would get her nowhere. She could sit on a throne, wear a crown, dress in opulent gowns too cumbersome for practical use, but true power belonged to those who seized the initiative, and Chrysalis had beaten her to it. “I’ll do it,” she growled, eyeing the princess and each guard surrounding her, all stunned beyond belief, dread oozing from their every pore. “I’d always planned to. A little contingency, you see. If I couldn’t steal her from you, as mine were stolen from me… then I’ll just leave you as heartbroken as I was.” Flurry whimpered and squirmed. Chrysalis adjusted her grip to minimise the young mare’s efforts and dragged the shard lower, aimed for between her ribs. The poetry of the moment almost made up for the inelegant brutality that brought it about. Almost. “Don’t hurt her,” Cadance requested, a few degrees shy of begging. “Please. She’s—” “Your world? Your everything? Your precious little dove?” The queen breathlessly chuckled. “I know exactly how you feel. How… crushing it seems, to face the prospect of a life without purpose. Without someone to care for. Without someone who cares for you.” She shook her head. “My family died when your sister-in-law started preaching those virtues of hers, it just took a while for the rot to kill them. And now, if you don’t let me leave with Flurry… your daughter will be another of her victims.” A teardrop shed from the mother’s eye, followed by a second, and without any options left to her, she shuddered in horror. There was nothing she could say, nothing she could do, no order she could give that would help, and the sheer panic that reverberated from her was like ambrosia to Chrysalis, a moment she’d waited years for. But although she wished to relish it, to soak in every detail so that she’d never forget – the quiver of a lower lip, the drooping of wings, ears and a tail, the unbridled agony in a pair of violet eyes – something was awry. Not in Cadance or the guards that hung on her word, who were all undoubtedly paralysed, but the situation itself. Chrysalis glanced this way and that, searching the corners, what remained of the ceiling, even the now unobstructed balcony, but didn’t see anything. And yet she knew, she knew, that something wasn’t right, that something had gone wrong, or had always been wrong. “Well?” she demanded, shaking her head once again, and silently daring this unseen threat to stop her as she took a step rearwards. “What shall it be? Where’s your gallantry now? Who’ll stand up and be the hero?” “Nobody.” She looked down with wide eyes. Flurry stared back, trembling where she lay on her side. “They can’t do anything,” she said, and every nervous breath brought her barrel dangerously close to the makeshift dagger. “You’ve won. But you don’t want to win anymore, do you?” “Ridiculous,” Chrysalis spat. “I… am a changeling. The changeling. Queen Chrysalis: the last great villain in all of Equestria!” “Then why haven’t you done it already?” Flurry shivered and forced herself to be brave. “You know I’ll never stop trying to escape. That’s why I had to go with you willingly. And if this is your fallback plan, if you wanted to go through with it… you wouldn’t be holding me hostage. You wouldn’t be talking so much. You wouldn’t… care.” Ignoring her should’ve been easy – she was younger than Twilight and no less impassioned. It should’ve been. Chrysalis needed it to be. But for as much as she willed herself with all her strength to lift her foreleg and plunge it straight down… she couldn’t. Her body had frozen in place, just like the others. “But I know you do.” Slowly and tentatively, Flurry crawled out from her grasp, then sat on the floor in front of her. “I know you don’t want to do this. I know you don’t want to lose me, Chryssy.” She raised a hoof and gently lowered the queen’s own. “And I… I don’t want to lose you either.” Seconds, minutes, hours may as well have passed, but it all passed in the blink of an eye. All Chrysalis could remember was the sound and sensation of weeping, a tender embrace, and then being carried away to darkness and dreams. Victory in DefeatThe dungeons smelled old, their ambient emotion dry and stale like desert sand – a sure sign they’d barely been used in centuries. Not even a clichéd rat scurried amongst their largely abandoned caverns. But this was as much as she deserved: a cell to herself, and nothing but an endless hollow for company. Chrysalis sat in the corner she deemed furthest from the bars, a silver platter bearing her breakfast left untouched in the centre of the cool, perfectly smooth floor. She was hungry, close to starving, but she couldn’t bring herself to eat after what she’d done, and almost convinced herself to do. An echo resounded throughout the chasm, and the clop of hooves followed. It wasn’t long before she caught the scent of expensive perfume, along with the sterile aroma of sombre acceptance. She didn’t need to see who it was, and even as the figure stopped by her cell, illuminating the way and casting long shadows with a golden glow, Chrysalis refused to look at her. “Don’t.” Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, having opened her mouth to speak, gradually closed it. “I know what you’ve come here to say,” Chrysalis murmured and shook her head. “Don’t. I’m not worthy of absolution.” “That’s not for you to decide.” “Why shouldn’t it be?” she countered, deigning to briefly peer at Cadance from the corner of her eye. “You were right. From the moment I arrived, you always were. You were right to distrust me, to try and separate me from Flurry. You saw through my lies as if they were crystal clear, and I took pride in trying to deceive you.” There was a pause. “You don’t anymore.” “But I shouldn’t have been like that in the first place. None of this should’ve happened. And it was my pride, my… petty need for vengeance… that nearly stole your daughter away from you – the only one who believed in me.” Another pause, longer this time. “I’d be lying if I said I’m not bitter about it,” Cadance admitted, followed by a drawn-out sigh. “I still am. I’ve had nightmares of you threatening her, pressing that crystal to her throat. But I’m not here to tell you about them. I’m here because I don’t want to be mad at you anymore.” A speech, Chrysalis had expected. That little titbit, however, she hadn’t, and she turned her head ever so slightly toward her. “Is Flurry?” “No.” The princess faintly, but not unnervingly, smiled. “And I envy her for that. She knew who you were before you came to us, what you could do while you were here, and even when you showed your true colours… or what you and I thought your true colours were… she still had faith in you. Because she saw something I never wanted to: a mother.” Chrysalis felt a pang within her. She wasn’t sure how to react, but her instinct to be ashamed didn’t feel right. Every emotion brighter than melancholy would only get her in more trouble – invite suspicion, further distrust, and then exile or worse. “I love Flurry Heart,” Cadance continued, her tone dragging its heels back into a cheerless timbre. “I’d do anything for her. What that includes, I hope I’ll never find out. But maybe, looking at us through that same lens… we aren’t as different as I first thought.” She could monologue all she liked, but Chrysalis wouldn’t let herself be convinced. She’d lied before, and Flurry had turned away because of it. “I told her love can be a dangerous thing.” “It certainly can,” the princess soberly agreed, much to Chrysalis’ surprise. “I don’t know what your life was like before Canterlot, but it’s clear to me now that… you relied on your children to keep you going. And their absence hurt you. So from one mother to another—” “Don’t.” Chrysalis shook her head once more, looking to Cadance with upturned brows and straining to keep the wetness from her eyes. “Please. Just don’t.” Cadance stared back, caught somewhat off-guard, but eventually closed her mouth again and gulped. “Then how can we make this better between us?” It took a while for Chrysalis to come up with a response, and then another moment before she summoned the courage for it. “Let me see her again,” she said, her volume nearing a whisper’s pitch, her tone almost pleading. “Let me apologise. It… might be too soon… but if I could just see her one last time…” The princess was silent, betraying nothing but a contemplative, pensive air. “When she’s ready.” And then after a beat, perhaps to gather her wits, she turned and began walking back the way she had come, heading for a staircase far out of sight. “Cadance…” Her hoofsteps halted. Chrysalis cautiously shimmied toward her cell’s entrance, as if approaching too fast might trigger some form of trap, even though she knew full well that both their vindictive days were over. “Have you heard anything from Thorax?” she queried, pressing her forehead against the bars, gazing into the gloom and clinging to an empty hope. “Does he know I’m here? Are my children upset with me?” Yet another pause, before the tension eased. “I never said a word to them.” Chrysalis let an anxious, tattered breath go and allowed the warmth of relief to fill her chitinous shell. “Thank you,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut so that a tear fell freely. “Thank you.” The princess resumed her ascent and closed the dungeons’ entrance behind her, and all was still and quiet in their depths. But Chrysalis didn’t mind so much anymore, because she was grinning from ear to ear.
A Changeling Comes to CourtChains bound Queen Chrysalis in the centre of the throne room, and guards watched her, but no eyes were more piercing than the ones glaring at her from the throne itself. Yet try as they might, they couldn’t restrain her smile. “It’s good to see you again, my dear princess,” she said, every note in her voice as light as a feather, then peered to her left and gently bowed. “And you too, former husband-to-be.” Neither Cadance nor Shining Armor appeared the least bit amused; where the captain of the household guard had to maintain composure if he hoped to lead his troops by example, his wife had no such obligation. Her ears were flat, her brows low and furrowed, and the corners of her mouth downturned. For a mare so renowned for her beauty, it truly was an ugly look, and one Chrysalis delighted in. “Long time no see, as they say.” “Not long enough,” the princess groused. Even sounding assertive hardly suited her, like a mouse thinking itself a lion. “Why are you here?” “Oh my sweet child,” Chrysalis chuckled, “we both know there are more intelligent questions to ask.” Cadance deepened her boorish frown, a sight that would make even the Ghastly Gorge blush. Her husband burned with resentment, no doubt itching for his mistress to say the word and let him gag their greatest adversary. But the young princess said nothing of the sort, and merely continued to scowl. “Is it not enough that I simply wish to visit a couple of old friends?” Cold flames sparked behind her violet eyes, and her lips peeled back like flaking paint into a hideous snarl. “You kidnapped me, impersonated me at my wedding, hypnotised my fiance and left me and his sister to rot in the catacombs, hoping she’d kill me because she thought I was you.” Chrysalis beamed only brighter. “Adversity forges the strongest bonds.” “Oh yes, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you? Considering how often you’ve tried taking over Equestria, and failed.” Her grin remained, without even the faintest hint of irritation. “Lessons were learned.” “Which brings me back to now.” Cadance leered forward. “You’re up to something. Everypony knows it. How giving yourself up on a silver platter plays into it, though… that’s what I’m having trouble with.” “Or perhaps I’ve merely accepted the inevitable.” Chrysalis glanced down at the collar around her neck, traced one of its chains to the unicorn holding it, and stared at him from the corner of her eye just long enough to see his stalwart gaze waver. “Why waste energy on wars I’ll never win? Where’s the fun in that?” “As I recall, ‘fun’ wasn’t on your list of priorities when you were swearing vengeance.” “Passions were high.” The queen lessened her grin to an amiable smile, cocking her head in a quaint and entirely innocent manner. “I’m sure you can appreciate that, being the Princess of Love. And mother to a beautiful little girl, as I’ve heard.” Cadance stiffened, ears standing at attention as the feathers in her wings puffed out like the hair on the back of a frightened cat. “What does my daughter have to do with any of this?” “Oh, nothing, nothing at all. I simply mean to remind you, one mother to another, that we often say things we don’t truly believe in the heat of the moment.” A pregnant pause settled, the air so thin and silent it was as if the two were standing snout to snout, clutching daggers they both knew they had beneath their cloaks. “Some more than others, I suspect.” Chrysalis laughed and took a step closer, only to feel iron dig into her carapace as the guards yanked on her short leash. Nonetheless, she rolled her eyes and blithely shook her head. “Oh, Mi Amore Cadenza, my dear, sweet Cadance, I would never lie to you. What good would it do? The last thing I’d want is to sour your judgement of me. Unless of course you don’t believe in second chances.” “I believe you lost my respect long ago, and you’ve had more than enough chances since then.” There was another pause, and the queen’s smile withered itself down into a quiet, shrewd smirk; every code had its pattern, every defence had its flaw, no matter how polished and refined. “Once a villain, always a villain.” “If that is how you wish to see it.” Shining Armor glanced at his wife, too quick to catch the emotion behind it, but the action itself reeked of a fascinating cocktail. Shock, confusion, a dash of outrage and a pinch of anger – Chrysalis could smell and practically taste it all, even with the ring around her horn. For as much as he loved her, he evidently agreed more with his sister than his wife. None of this was exactly important information, or even secret if one were observant, but knowledge in any form could be a potent instrument. All it required was a changeling’s touch, and centuries of experience in how to apply it. “No!” All eyes in the throne room snapped to the ceiling, and to everyone’s surprise, even Chrysalis’, a young alicorn stood on all fours looking back at them as if they were upside down. The golden glow of her horn dimmed and her hooves came loose from the roof, whereupon she spun about midair and spread a pair of resplendent wings. Her flight spiralled, descending, and soon she was trotting along the crystalline floor and onto the carpet. “You can’t do that, Mom,” she declared, putting herself between Cadance and Chrysalis, though while her tone was defiant her expression was anxious – brows upturned and ears lowered. “That’s not how we’re supposed to treat people like her.” Chrysalis blinked. Rare were the moments where she found herself unsure how to react, but this was apparently such an occasion; she’d expected an eavesdropper or two, and Flurry Heart would’ve likely been among them, but for the filly to advocate for her? That was interesting. And possibly quite beneficial. The father didn’t see it that way, however, and marched forward with ears pinned rearward and reproach in his gaze. “Flurry Heart, get out of here, now.” “No.” The daughter shook her head and withdrew a couple of steps, accidentally bumping her flank into the queen’s leg. “You’re not saying anything about it either, so… someone needs to. And if that someone has to be me, then I’ll do it.” “Stay away from her!” Cadance barked, leaping from her seat and swooping down from her pedestal like a hawk – sacrificing the high ground to get up close and personal. “Whatever your point is, Flurry, you have no business being here. That creature has tried destroying our family more times than I can count and deserves nothing from us.” “Oh please,” Chrysalis scoffed, “you’re taking this all much too personally. There was never an issue I had with your family, just those who stood in my way.” “As if that makes it any better.” “Is this the Princess of Love talking, or the scorned mare?” “Enough!” Flurry interrupted, tearing herself from Chrysalis and keeping distance between her mother, an anguished look upon her face. “I… know who she is, Mom. I know what she’s done. And I haven’t forgotten that. But Auntie Twilight believes in forgiveness. We should too.” Chrysalis peered across at her, the daughter of this haggard strumpet, and gently cocked an eyebrow. She’d actually planned on making a similar argument herself, albeit with a more… provocative flair. Even if their intentions weren’t the same, she couldn’t help acknowledging the little tyke’s acumen, and perhaps the fact that Flurry had said it first would yet prove useful. Cadance merely shook her head. “There must be consequences.” “Unless you’re Starlight Glimmer,” Chrysalis chimed, and grinned when she felt their confusion tingle throughout her body. “Or have you forgotten? She deceived an entire village into giving up their marks, planned to expand this movement across the whole of ponykind, meddled with time itself, and then very nearly destroyed the entire world out of spite. The most she received was a lecture from Twilight. Even the village welcomed her back with open arms. So if that is how Equestria treats its enemies, shouldn’t I be owed the same duty of care?” The princess narrowed her eyes and snarled, bristling with enmity. “She at least showed remorse.” “And I came here at her request,” the queen countered, hardening her brows, adding a cold and indignant edge to her voice. “She convinced me to see you, promised that none of you truly wished any harm on me. Evidently she was mistaken.” Shining Armor strode over, fixing her with eyes that once gazed upon her with reverence and ecstasy. “It’s hard to let go of a grudge when you stole my wife and used me like a puppet.” “My dear, please, you belittle yourself.” Chrysalis chortled, adding a sprinkle of playful condescension. “You were so much more than that. Besides, I know for a fact you enjoyed the time we spent together, while it lasted.” “Don’t you dare play that card around here.” Cadance stomped forward and shoved her muzzle in close. The difference in their height was laughable. “My husband is loyal, a good stallion and a loving father, and if you ever disrespect him again, I’ll have you locked in the dungeons and throw away the key.” Such venom, such vitriol – scarcely a substitute for the sweetness of pure, unfettered love, but coming from her it was delectable all the same. “What would Twilight say to that, I wonder?” “I am not Twilight.” “Clearly. She’s far more… principled.” “Okay, I said that’s enough,” Flurry reaffirmed, shouldering herself between them and pushing her forehooves against the queen’s breast. She wasn’t strong enough to force her back, but Chrysalis nevertheless humoured her, and the guards slackened their grip just a little. “You gave yourself up for a reason. What do you want?” Her cyan eyes shone with conviction – a sense of unshakable faith in the lessons she’d been taught, the stories she’d been told. Barely fifteen years and this Twilight Sparkle had already become legend, inspiring the next generation. The very notion of it was… bothersome. But Chrysalis continued beaming a gracious smile and, after a brief moment to remind herself why she’d come here, what she’d set out to accomplish, she put a hoof forward and slowly bowed. “Peace.” “Peace?” the prince-consort spat. “After everything you said about my wife? About us?” Cadance snorted in disdain. “She certainly has a funny way of asking for it.” “I do not ‘ask’,” Chrysalis snapped, standing straight, “I take, one way or another, as I’ve done for centuries. But I’m not above admitting defeat. And make no mistake, you have beaten me. Robbed me. Of my dignity and my family. Left me with nothing and no one, but the echoes, the memories of everything I once had, all I did and endured for them. My children. Who’ve now outgrown me. Become… twisted versions of themselves. Because they suddenly trusted some… miserable worm mindlessly blathering on about the philosophy you preach, so high and mighty and sanctimonious.” The entire throne room fell into an almost deathly silence, where even the first breath might cut the invisible wires and set off a trap. The guards, dutifully, remained quiet and still, if a little unnerved, and the same could be said for Shining Armor. Flurry appeared horrified, eyes wide and mouth lolling open, where Cadance merely blinked. Queen Chrysalis, however, bared her fangs and snarled, glaring back at the princess with steam rising from her ears. “I won’t grovel for mercy like the spineless sycophants you’re accustomed to. I will have it because you will give it.” Nobody in the hall dared move a muscle; over a thousand years of experience and hardship fueled her indignation, and she would quash anyone who downplayed her pain. They knew this, and they were right to be afraid. It was the only solace she could find, the only twig that hadn’t snapped, to keep herself from lashing out. Ponies were indeed fearful creatures. Some better at hiding it than others, either through training or through their own nature. But even the bravest could be frightened by sudden terrors – why else would they restrain her, if they did not fear what she could do? And before too long, they would know how much fight was left in her yet. She still had a plan, after all. “And I’ll help you,” said Flurry. Chrysalis peered at her and, despite herself, felt the cold, unwelcome shiver of surprise course through her veins. It wasn’t because the filly’s assertion had thrown a wrench into the works, but because her lowered ears, upturned brows and wide eyes glistened with pity. She’d suffered enough of it from Starlight already. Cadance slammed her hoof. “No.” “Yes.” Flurry steeled her gaze and shuffled closer to Chrysalis once again, almost standing alongside her. “She needs someone to give her a chance. If you won’t, I will.” “Or we could let Twilight handle this.” “And pass our problems on to her? We need to take responsibility, Mom.” “No, we don’t,” the princess growled. “We’re not obligated to help her, all because, what, she says she wants peace? She hasn’t even apologised for all she’s done!” “There’s no use for apologies, Mi Amore,” Chrysalis intoned, leering back at her. “Friends are honest with each other, are they not? We both know I’d only be lying.” Cadance prowled a step forward and glared daggers. “You have no friends here.” “Mother…” Flurry implored. “Please…” She paid her an irritated glance, which slowly withered into a weary stare, until she eventually tore her gaze away with a grunt. “But I know Twilight would disagree… and Celestia by extension,” she grumbled, and begrudgingly locked eyes with Chrysalis once more. “Don’t think you’ve won yet, Your Majesty. We’ll find out what you’re planning sooner or later, and when we do… nothing will save you then.” The queen thought about smiling one last time, but settled for a truthful glower instead. “All in due time, child, I assure you.”
The Good in the BadThere were conditions, naturally – restrictions on where she could go, what she could do. Cadance and the rest of her equine ilk were an inherently naïve species, but credit where credit was due, they weren’t completely ignorant, and the dampening ring around the queen’s jagged horn was proof enough. But in blind pursuit of Harmony, the ponies revealed and remained their foolish selves. Magic alone could be a truly devastating weapon, control minds against their will, crush mountains into dust, cancel the sky and bring about night everlasting. Yet these powers paled in comparison to the elegance of a different sort, and every changeling knew it. Any magician could cast a spell. Any warrior could swing a blade. Very few could do what Chrysalis did best. “…And that’s all there is for Petition Five-One-Zero,” Flurry announced, levitating the scroll in front of her over to a separate pile, while retrieving another from an opened box. “Petition Five-One-One…” Patience had always been a virtue, and was frankly a necessity in her line of work, but it helped when she found time to unwind a little – loosen the strings that kept the mask in place. Despite herself, listening to the petty woes and complaints of the Empire’s subjects proved rather relaxing, mostly because Cadance had arbitrated them. “What does this one say?” Chrysalis asked, her tone calm and composed. “Another couple in a loveless marriage?” Flurry shook her head. “No, this one’s about… a mare whose advances… aren’t being returned.” A case the throne room had likely heard several hundred times over. Why these hearings appealed so much to Equestrian royalty baffled her, especially if they never seemed to end. After all, it wasn’t the tedium of governance that drew her to the pursuit and preservation of power, but the thrill of the hunt, to outwit both prey and predator. Chrysalis glanced across the room to a guard standing just outside the alcove in which she and Flurry were seated. She doubted it was routine to patrol the palace archives, and coincidentally keep watch over his superior’s daughter, but she took no offence; it meant she was dealing with actual opponents. That being said, if she were in their place, she’d have dealt with a threat like her in the most efficient manner possible: permanently. Such was the weakness of a conscience. “Remind me why you’ve been told to study all these… pleas from the lower caste.” “Not lower,” Flurry replied, peering at Chrysalis with a worried look, “just different. And Mom, Dad and Sunburst say I need to study these in case I become the Princess of Love someday.” “Doesn’t sound like they’ve given you much choice.” There was a pause before her next response. “If not me, who else?” Humble. Quite mature for someone her age. “Fair enough,” the queen admitted, gently nodding. “I see you’ve taken Twilight’s teachings to heart.” “It isn’t that. More like… common sense, I guess. The kind of thing Auntie Applejack is all about.” “I thought she represented honesty.” “Well, yes, but she’s more than just her Element.” Flurry giggled – a quaint little sound – and turned on the bench to face Chrysalis more directly. “It’s good to help people, and I want to do that. If I’m in a position where I’m able, why shouldn’t I?” Not only humble but compassionate too, although that much was evident when she spoke up for her in the throne room. “Very well. So, what does the transcript say?” The filly returned to the scroll and squinted. Perhaps she’d need glasses in the future. “I’ve read about a lot of cases like this in the past. They all ended the same, and this doesn’t appear to be any different. Mom sympathised, but there was nothing she could do. She ruled that if the mare truly cared for the stallion, she’d respect his feelings and find a way to move on. Her judgement, and I quote, is that ‘love cannot be forced’.” Chrysalis gently snorted. Flurry looked up at her again, cocking her head. “What’s so funny?” “What your mother said.” Chrysalis nodded to the parchment in Flurry’s magical grasp. “Of course love can be forced. And I’m surprised someone who claims to be attuned to affairs of the heart would say otherwise. As a matter of fact, there are three methods to gain your target’s affection without their knowledge, one of which your father already experienced.” Flattening her ears and lowering her eyelids to half-mast, Flurry sighed. “When you controlled his mind at the wedding, I know.” “Through a spell, yes.” The queen allowed a self-satisfied smirk creep its way across her muzzle at the memory, how fun it had been, how close she came to succeeding. “There are also potions that do the trick, though the effects can be rather… extreme, if they aren’t correctly brewed. But the most difficult, and consequently most satisfying and rewarding method of all, is to play the Game.” Flurry blinked and arched her brow, and a genuine sense of curiosity radiated from her. “The Game?” “Treat life as you would a grand match of chess, where everyone is a king, yet also a pawn to use and sacrifice, whatever it takes until you are the last piece standing.” She winced and lowered her gaze, curiosity replaced with sombre realisation. “I… don’t know, Your Majesty. That sounds like a pretty callous worldview to me.” “I never said it wasn’t, nor did I say you should adopt it.” Chrysalis leaned forward to regain her focus, draining the smugness from her voice and reining in the arrogance from her face. “My point, child, is that nothing is impossible to those with the will to see it through. Love is a wonderful, beautiful thing, but it can also be dangerous. And that’s a lesson I fear your mother never truly learned.” Flurry looked up at her again. “What do you mean?” “Tell me, do you honestly believe the answer that mare was given would satisfy everyone, if they stood where she did, longing for someone who might never love them back? Would they soldier on with heads held high, determined to put aside their emotions? Would they never think to question her decision? Or would they find the pain unbearable, devouring their resolve until desire and sorrow become poison in their veins?” Shock and horror now stared back at Chrysalis – she had earned the filly’s undivided attention. “Your mother is young. Inexperienced. She was sheltered as a child beneath Celestia’s wing, and now she lives in a palace of her own, with a dutiful husband and loving daughter, and dozens of servants and hundreds of guards waiting on her every whim.” The queen sat a little more upright and peered down at Flurry cheerlessly. “It’s easy to say what others should do, when you’ve lived a privileged life, but the world beyond these walls is rarely so simplistic. I’ve lived long enough to know.” Flurry hesitated, searching for something in the queen’s eyes – perhaps a sense of security or assuredness – but eventually cleared her throat and let the scroll slide onto the table between them. An uneasy atmosphere surrounded her. “So… you’re saying Mom… should’ve forced the stallion to—” “No, not at all.” Chrysalis sternly shook her head, and felt a quiet breath of relief from both Flurry and the guard outside crawl beneath her carapace. “Your mother’s decision was fair, but shortsighted, because it didn’t fix the problem, merely postponed it. If that nameless mare let her affection become obsession, if she hasn’t already, she could’ve taken matters into her own hooves and done something drastic, even criminal.” “You really think so?” She paused, staring off into a nonexistent horizon for a moment, then gently bobbed her head from side to side. “Maybe not. But it’s a possibility. One the Princess of Love shouldn’t ignore. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time repressing emotions led to dire consequences – something Starlight and Luna can attest to.” Flurry glanced outside the alcove and shuffled in place. “I never thought about it like that before.” “Nor would your family approve if you did. It’s a mindset they’re unaccustomed to, which is… good, in a way. But there’s a difference between wisdom and naïveté, and the wise ruler is prepared for anything.” “Even if it means assuming the worst in people?” “Especially the worst.” “Even you?” Chrysalis opened her mouth to speak, but her voice caught somewhere deep in her throat, and she suddenly felt… a chill: the cold and uncomfortable twinge of a sharp object burrowing into her abdomen. She peered down for a brief moment to inspect it, but found nothing, just her chitinous skin, still flaking here and there from her time in the wilds. Whatever it was, however she was supposed to react, she blinked her confusion away and forcibly recomposed herself with a nod. “Yes, even me. Though I’m… sure that should be obvious.” The filly shrugged and, strangely, smiled. “You wouldn’t be giving me advice if you didn’t care.” And now a completely different and far more familiar sensation pulsed through her, sending ripples of warmth into her barrel and along her spine. The frigid blade remained, but it was less painful, and quickly being overwhelmed by this newfound realisation: she at last had a hoof in the door. “Would you like to know more?”
Two MothersFlurry had, in her own way, surpassed all expectations. Chrysalis always knew that convincing these ponies to let her into their home would be easy, but assumed that gaining their trust would take far longer; what progress she thought would span months she actually made in a matter of days. Quite surprising, considering how perceptive and analytical the young mare was. Not unlike Twilight when they first clashed. She’d call her gullible, if she weren’t similarly impressed by Flurry’s thirst for knowledge – knowledge her family would never have shared. Despite herself and her intentions, the queen couldn’t help recognising the wisdom of an open mind, and it was refreshing to face a foe she could respect for once. But such thoughts were better left unsaid, or they’d spoil the garden in which she’d grown her lies, each so perfect one could scarcely see the thorns beneath their innocent petals. “I went to Zebrica once, you know.” “Really?” “Indeed.” Chrysalis led Flurry through the corridors of the palace, familiar to her even before she officially arrived. “But only once. You see, the tribes, chiefdoms and empires there are very… spiritual in nature. Shamans travel the land in search of the sick and downtrodden, helping where they can, but the key role they play in everywhere they go… is to determine the truth. And believe me when I say, they’re quite adept at what they do.” “How do you…” Flurry yawned into the bend of a foreleg and rubbed at her eye with a wing. “Pardon me. How do you mean?” “Well, the specifics are a mystery to me – a trade secret, never written down or whispered outside their circles – but they appear to have… a sense when it comes to these things. Similar to earth ponies and their internal compass, or how changelings can feel what others feel.” “And pegasi and their wings?” The queen angled her head and raised an eyebrow. “How do you mean?” “Pegasi can… sense changes in thaumatic pressure through their… their feathers.” Pausing to yawn again, Flurry began to lag behind. “Like unicorns and their horns. It’s all… interconnected.” “…I see,” Chrysalis murmured absently, slowing her pace to match, then curled the corner of her mouth into a smile. “And I also see that someone is in need of a good night’s sleep.” “I’m not that tired, I swear! I just yawn a lot when it gets late.” “Come now, Flurry Heart, I thought we promised to be honest with each other.” “Since when have you ever been?” “Ha! Soon you’ll be witty enough to challenge Discord himself.” The queen chuckled and considered draping a wing or foreleg over her withers, but remembered the height difference and thought better of it. “Until then, however, you still have your limits, little one. Now, don’t be so stubborn like the rest of your aunts and accept it is your bedtime.” “Hey, that’s not fair!” Flurry side-stepped away with a grin and turned to face her. “I’m supposed to be babysitting you!” “Don’t argue with your elders. You know I’m right.” “I know, I know.” She yawned once more and picked up the pace, starting off with a bounce and an eager kick. “But it’s not my fault you kept me up this late. You know I like these stories!” “Yes, it’s all a dastardly ploy to get you in trouble.” Chrysalis lowered her head and softened her voice. “But then again, if I got you in trouble, then I’d be in trouble as well. Who’d be there to teach me about friendship while you’re grounded, hmm?” “Starlight, probably. Or Sunburst. They’re the most available.” She waited until the filly’s attention was firmly grounded on the way ahead – or lost in a daydream, it mattered not – before she straightened her neck and allowed an inkling of disgust to pull on her lips. So many names had been the bane of her existence, and the thought of them finding happiness, especially together, didn’t make her sick as much as it filled her with scalding, resentful bile. But their time would come eventually, she reminded herself. And besides, today had been too nice to end with bitter memories; she had an image to maintain, a mask to wear, a role to play. And as they rounded the corner into Flurry’s bedroom, she flicked on the light switch with a wisp of magic to reveal a candid grin. Toys lay scattered about the floor and clumped in corners, the chest in which they belonged open and empty – the aftermath of a good morning’s romp through imagination. A filly-sized castle stood near the doorway, protected by a hundred odd wooden knights, and a large goosefeather bed lazed at the opposite end, lined with a collection of stuffed animals. The famous Whammy sat at the head of the pack. Flurry was already bounding onto the mattress, and caught every toy she dislodged in her magic before they hit the carpeted floor. It all smelled of… affection… and strawberry and vanilla – freshly cleaned sheets and scented candles – and the queen’s wings fluttered beneath their shields in response. “You’ll need to tidy this place up tomorrow, I reckon,” Chrysalis informed, her tone even and steady as her gait. “The servants may dust and polish your shelves and trinkets, but I’m sure they left your toys alone for a reason.” “Tomorrow.” Flurry burrowed into the quilt and started making room for the rest of her stuffed animals, hugging Whammy close. “It’s nighttime now. I need my sleep.” “So it is.” Flicking the main lights back off and switching the bedside lamp on, Chrysalis strolled forwards and sat on her haunches. “But for the record, I only tell stories when you ask for them, so it actually is your fault that you’re up this late.” “Liar.” “Cross my hearts.” “And hope to fly, stick a cupcake in your eye?” “Yes, even that.” The young mare giggled and pulled the blanket under her chin. “Goodnight, Chryssy.” “Goodnight, little dove.” The queen bowed and gently planted a small, tender kiss on her brow, then beamed with utmost sincerity at the wide eyes and cute button nose squished between toys on either side. Flurry was cosy, snug as a bug in a rug, and the warmth she felt flowed into Chrysalis like a thin coat of water rolling down her hide. “Sweet dreams.” Now it was the lamp’s turn to go out, easing the room into shadow and leaving the pale glow from the hallway as the only source of illumination. The parents were wise to choose a space so deep in the palace as their nursery, but although it made strategic sense, the lack of windows left something to be desired, and the glow-in-the-dark stars that plastered the ceiling were a poor substitute for a naked view of the night sky. Even so, unless she were to somehow convince them both that Flurry deserved to see the sunrise when she woke up, things would remain as they were. And talented though she was in the art of persuasion, she knew that no idea she could propose would be above suspicion. Once a villain, always a villain. Chrysalis stood on all fours once more and walked for the exit, taking care to avoid the silhouettes on the carpet and keep her footfalls quiet. She had her own room to find, and quite a lot of thinking to be done before the break of dawn – conversations to ponder and dissect, new information to memorise. Plans to devise and later put in motion. “Chryssy…” The faint call stayed her hooves halfway from the bed to the door, and she raised her ears and arched an eyebrow as she looked over her shoulder, peering into the gloom. Flurry held her gaze without reply for a moment, unease creeping through the air. But there was courage too – a confidence built upon the many hours they’d spent together. “Do you think you’ll ever want to see your children again?” A question that was bound to rear its ugly head sooner or later; as they were, no, she didn’t care for them, because they’d betrayed her and everything she taught them. But she couldn’t deny their loss had… affected her. Made her less than whole. Driven her into the wilds of the unsettled west, in the hopes that reconnecting with her past would somehow fill the emptiness within. They were alive, at least, but not who they used to be. What she raised them to be. And even if she set the world ablaze, watched as kingdoms and empires cracked and burned beneath the weight of their hubris, they would never welcome her as their queen again. Not unless she, too, surrendered to these… misguided notions of friendship and benevolence. But Flurry expected an answer, not the maddened musings of a matriarch, and Chrysalis knew that saying ‘never’ wouldn’t be acceptable, especially to an acolyte of Twilight herself. “Not yet.” “I think they’d like to see you.” Flurry yawned yet again, then settled back down into the pillow. “You can’t have been that bad, if you cared for them.” Chrysalis flinched internally – why, she wasn’t entirely sure – and that unpleasant, almost painful chill she felt a few days prior returned. Flurry surely meant well, but for whatever reason her words struck deep, and the queen was glad that if her mask had slipped, the shadows would keep her expression in the dark. Choosing to forego another response, she continued walking and shut the door behind her, then closed her eyes and sighed to herself. Every plan had its dangers, some more so than others, and some were doomed to fail from the beginning. Where this one fell on the scale was hard to say for certain, but she hadn’t been prepared to answer questions about a future that didn’t interest her. She’d have to keep that in mind for the rest of her stay, if she could be bothered coming up with a couple of phony responses, the pledge of honesty be damned. “What do you think you’re doing?” Her eyes languidly opened and she looked to her left. Cadance glared back at her, just over a few strides away. She must’ve been coming to bid Flurry her own goodnight when she caught sight of Chrysalis exiting the bedroom. Without her peytral and assorted regalia, and her mane tied in a loose bun for the night, she seemed almost ordinary – perhaps even a common servant, if it weren’t for the horn and wings. Chrysalis quietly groaned and rolled her eyes, turning in the opposite direction and heading for her room. “I’m not in the mood, Candy.” “You’re also not meant to be in there,” the mare groused, matching her pace. “Or have you forgotten that you’re only here because I allow it? You’re on thin ice, Chrysalis, so one more infringement like that and you’ll be spending the rest of your days in a cell.” “You know, for the Princess of Love, I haven’t seen much of it from you.” “What’s there to love in you?” The queen scowled. “Something Flurry sees that you don’t,” she rumbled, using her next step to pivot and stand side-on to Cadance, blocking the corridor. “You could learn a thing or two from her, or any of her aunts, if you were as open to change as I am.” “But this isn’t about change, is it?!” barked Cadance, flattening her ears and flaring her wings, slamming both forehooves so hard into the floor that it nearly shook the walls. “You’re no different from when we beat you the last time, are you? Which means this is another one of your schemes, and I don’t need to be the Element of Honesty to see it. Whatever you’re plotting, however my daughter fits into it, you won’t succeed, so the instant I catch a whiff that you’ve been a bad influence on her, that’s it.” If she weren’t constrained by the ring and her own façade, Chrysalis would’ve slapped her like the insolent brat she was. She hadn’t endured for millennia. She hadn’t suffered for tens of thousands of children – bled for them, and worse. She was a foal, a mere babe, pretending to be a princess, and she had the audacity to address a queen in that tone of voice, and threaten her as if she were more experienced. Chrysalis gritted her teeth and bared the tips of her fangs, tensing her haunches, itching and quietly praying for an excuse to pounce – throw caution to the wind and tear flesh, crush bone in its place. “No more chances.” Cadance straightened herself a little, but still had the wild look of a jealous mare scorned. “Come what may from Twilight and her friends, even Celestia herself, I’ll see to it that you won’t see me, Shining Armor, and especially Flurry Heart ever again.” And in a flash of magic, she was gone, teleported elsewhere in the palace, probably to join her husband in bed and find some comfort in his embrace. For what good that would do either of them. Meanwhile, Chrysalis was left staring at the empty space where she used to be, and suddenly had nowhere to channel her rage. She instead settled for whipping back around with an incensed huff, then continued marching down the corridor, stomping with every step. Who was she to rip another child away from her?
The Wolves Within“Your mother is callous.” Chrysalis paced back and forth in an agitated fashion. A trip to the royal gardens hadn’t cooled her temper at all, to a notable lack of surprise; she’d barely slept the previous night, and the guards who patrolled the palace and its grounds reeked of suspicion. Her suspicion. That insidious little mongrel who styled herself as the omniscient and absolute authority on the subject of love. What did she know of its true power? Its inherent curse? How could someone who’d barely finished weaning their firstborn possibly fathom all its aspects, let alone what it meant to be a parent, moreso to a hundred thousand? The complete and utter arrogance of it. “It’s not like that,” Flurry said from her seat on the edge of the central fountain, watching the queen stomping up and down the patterned pavement, but unable to look her in the eye. The air surrounding her fizzled with apprehension. “She’s just trying to protect me.” “From what?” Chrysalis demanded, rounding on her with a livid scowl. “What have I ever said or done to you that you’d call malicious? What possible threat have I posed?” “I don’t know.” “Then answer me, Flurry: why am I so dangerous just because I refuse to bow down, kiss her flank and lick her boots? Why can’t I have dignity in defeat?” The young mare hesitated, ears low and brows upturned, but eventually mustered the courage to meet her gaze. “It’s not dignity you’re asking for if you keep provoking her.” “But I haven’t. I’ve gone out of my way to stay out of her way, and even that isn’t enough. She said it herself: she won’t be satisfied until I stop… ‘manipulating’ you.” She blinked with widening eyes and drew her head back somewhat. “Manipulate me? How? Why?” “My point exactly. There’s nothing left for me to fight for besides stubborn pride, and no good reason for me to trick you either.” Chrysalis glanced left and right, briefly inspecting the bushes and flowering hedges for sentries intent on sticking their noses where they didn’t belong. The guards here were less incompetent than their brethren from Canterlot – undoubtedly because of their captain’s experience. “Perhaps she is trying to protect you, but I'm not your enemy. You know that, don’t you?” Again, Flurry was reluctant to answer, and her attention slipped to the empty space between them, muzzle twisting into an uneasy grimace. “I… know. And I don’t want to disagree with you, Chryssy… but I’m not sure what to say.” She brought a foreleg to her midsection and hugged it close, almost as if she had an upset stomach. “You have to remember that Mom's first impression of you involved getting kidnapped and replaced, and then waiting around in a cave while you and Dad, uh… or planned to…” The sight of her in obvious distress was… troubling. Chrysalis would’ve normally relished the memory of what used to be her most brilliant and masterful scheme, and how close it came to fruition, but something felt wrong inside. Sickly. Rotten. Like rodents gnawing at her intestines. “I can’t imagine what it’s like for her,” Flurry continued with a listless shrug, “but I’m certain it’s hard to move on from something like that. And since you won’t apologise, I think maybe she’s scared of you – scared you’ll do something like that again.” As well she rightly should’ve been. “Scared enough to rob me of my one chance at redemption?” “Not your only chance, no.” The filly fervently shook her head once more. “There’s always Twilight. She’d pick up the slack if Mom doesn’t, though I’m… sure she’d give her a stern talking-to about it.” “You speak as if it’s already come to pass!” Chrysalis cried with more force, more anguish than she’d anticipated, and swung about to resume pacing back and forth. “And that’s all beside the point, isn’t it? Twilight taught you ponies to live your lives with compassion, and to forgive those who seek it. Here I am, and how am I welcomed? With derision, resentment, and callous disregard for my well-being.” Flurry opened her mouth to counter, but appeared to lack the words for it and deflated with a quiet sigh through her nose; she wouldn’t agree, yet neither would she disagree. Perhaps the rift between mother and daughter had widened. “For all the time I spent in exile… do you know what kept me going? Why I didn’t just find a cave or some hole in the ground and let the scavengers feast?” Flurry bit and sucked on her bottom lip and lifted her gaze yet again, watching Chrysalis glower at her from the corner of an eye. Her resolve was strong, of that there was no doubt, but everyone, even heroes as virtuous as Twilight Sparkle herself, had a breaking point. “Hatred.” Chrysalis ceased patrolling the brick path around the fountain and turned away, and suddenly found her breath ragged, her voice scratching at her throat with every syllable. “I… hated… your family. The fact they thwarted my every plan. Stole my children. Lived happy, contented lives in luxury… while I was left with nothing.” Her eyes began to sting – a sleepless night catching up with her – so she closed them. “That… was my existence… in a world that had no place for me. And I’d still be there… if it weren’t for the mare I hated most of all.” “Auntie Starlight.” Pressing her chitinous lips together and clenching her teeth, she slowly and begrudgingly nodded. “She told me… that she hoped I did what’s best for me. As if she hadn’t patronised me enough already. Exploited my loss for your family’s gain.” A cold whisper raced up the queen’s spine as Flurry slid from her perch, the clop of hooves on stone. “I don’t think she meant to patronise you, Chryssy. And my family didn’t gain anyone. But your family… they lost you.” “And why was that?!” Chrysalis snapped, whipping around and retreating… no, withdrawing a couple of steps. She blinked her eyes clear of some kind of fuzziness and stared hard at the young mare’s recoiling form. “Because I was the same mother they’d known all their lives?! Because I suddenly wasn’t good enough for them?! For anyone?!” Flurry shrunk into the fountain’s barrier, ears pinned rearward and wings ruffling at her sides. She wasn’t unlike a mouse who’d been cornered by a cat, wide-eyed and quivering, and it splashed water on the fire raging in the queen’s hearts. Without their heated winds, Chrysalis found her legs weak, unsteady, and her barrel aching as if she’d been crushed between scorching hot boulders. “How could you possibly understand?” she muttered, shaking her head. “How could Cadance, or Twilight, or the Sisters? None of them have been robbed like I have. And nothing… nothing… can replace what they stole.” The young mare noticed her abrupt and unusual lapse, and with a shimmer of empathy she willed herself forward again, despite the nervousness that clearly festered within her. “It doesn’t have to stay that way, Chryssy.” There it was again, that little nickname of hers. The fact she’d barely noticed its use until now was a testament to how far the queen’s focus had slipped. She couldn’t allow that to happen, wouldn’t allow that to happen, and wouldn’t let herself contemplate why it might. “But I must play by your family’s rules for that to happen, mustn’t I?” Flurry shut her mouth. They both knew that wasn’t entirely true – a request for a meeting would likely be granted – but there would be no reunion if Chrysalis refused to renounce her ways. And for all anyone knew, she would never be the changelings’ matriarch again. “There is cruelty in your kindness.” Her upper lip twitched, partly from a sense of smug satisfaction, partly out of disdain, and yet both felt hollow somehow. “So I must wonder… how am I so different from those who were my enemies?” Ears standing tall as she blinked with widening eyes, Flurry stared back at Chrysalis in a tangible mixture of confusion and shock. It tasted sour. Unpleasant. “You manipulated people.” “To get what I wanted, yes,” Chrysalis agreed, forcing herself to ignore the tart flavour she normally craved. “But when your family gets what they want – the taming of Equestria’s last and greatest villain – it’s all for the greater good. Never mind I’m watched by armed guards, that I won’t be free until I change some fundamental part of myself, or that my children were taken in the hopes I’d follow in their stead.” Once more, a closed mouth, and an aroma filled with trepidation. “If there’s one thing your family has taught me, child, it’s that justice is a matter of perspective: something I already knew.” Chrysalis turned her nose up and looked down on Flurry. “From a generation that claims to be so enlightened as yours, I’d have expected more.” “No.” The filly fumbled for a response, practically grasping at straws, and the sharp sting of terror was finally beginning to sink in. “You… you only cared about yourself. You hurt people.” “I hurt those who posed a threat to my children, whether they knew it or not. I was callous to some, not heartless to all. Just like your mother.” Tears formed in her eyes, glistened with betrayal. “Why are you saying this?” “Because I want you to be better,” Chrysalis lied, and saying it aloud took more effort than she thought it would. “Better than either of us. Better than even Twilight herself. Because your family’s message of love and tolerance is too simple for its own good, and ignores the realities of the world they’ve spent so long trying to help. It’s a noble endeavour but flawed, and I’ve shown you how. They’ve never dealt with inequality, with corruption or sickness, or the root causes of how good people turn bad; their lives and status have protected them.” One of the tears broke free, and then the other, and they both soaked a trail into Flurry’s cheeks. It was a wretched sight, but the queen pressed on. “I can show these things to you,” she insisted, lowering her voice to almost a whisper’s pitch. “I can show you what they’re afraid to acknowledge. We can discover the answers, unshackled by their ideals, to make the world a better place. For everyone. And they would thank you for it.” Flurry’s eyes briefly narrowed in a pained look, and then widened even further. “You want me to run away with you?” “A young mare like you should discover yourself on your own terms. You can’t do that here, studying transcripts your parents hope you’ll reenact someday, where they’ll criticise you for every—” “Stop!” she screamed, so loud and distressed that it struck Chrysalis like a hoof to the abdomen. And then with stiff, shivering movements the filly curled into herself at the foot of the fountain. “No, I… I won’t…” Chrysalis didn’t know what to do, much less what to say. For the first time in many years, she found herself completely stunned. And… distraught. Her mind cursed a lack of tact – signs she should’ve seen and compensated for – while her forelegs begged to grasp something and hold it close. Her body was uncomfortably rigid, and her hearts sank to a depth she’d never felt before. She nearly missed the frantic rattle of metal as guards rushed into the central grove, their alarm and enmity as piercing as the spears they carried. “Your Highness!” one of their number cried before absorbing the situation, and then marched toward Chrysalis with hostile intent. “What did you do?” “Nothing,” Flurry murmured, wiping her eyes with a wing and sniffling. “She… she didn’t do anything.” “Then why are you crying?” There was a lengthy pause, and then she shakily rose to all four hooves, careful to avoid the queen’s gaze as she faced the sentry. “I think we need to spend some time apart.” “Wait,” Chrysalis mumbled without control, without purpose beyond the desperate and knowingly futile need to take back what she said, to mend the bond they had. “Wait, little dove, please, I-I-I’m—” “Chryssy, don’t.” Flurry dismally shook her head a final time, and then let out a brokenhearted sigh as she walked for the guards and allowed them to escort her away. “I can’t… be around you. I’ve heard enough. Goodbye.”
Even the BravestWhat went wrong? Chrysalis asked herself this question hour after hour all night, replaying and dissecting the incident over and over in her head. What did she miss? Why? How could she have grown so sloppy? And most importantly, what could she do to regain the young mare’s trust? Two days now. Two days without sleep, without a proper stretch of time where she could gather her thoughts. Deception necessitated thinking on the fly, but something about this was different – too… distracting. Disorienting. As if the floor beneath her hooves might suddenly give way, or the world itself flip upside down at a moment’s notice. Even the dim glow of a bedside lamp felt like too much input, too revealing, allowing hidden spies to gauge her emotions or read her mind. She knew her room well enough not to stumble in the dark, but maybe so did they. Perhaps this was her plan all along, to manipulate the manipulator. But she wouldn’t be outdone – couldn’t be outdone – for she was Chrysalis, Master of Deception, Mother to Millions and Matriarch of the Hidden Menace. For a thousand years it was her guile, her wit and will and adaptiveness that ensured the changelings’ survival, whatever the cost. Only a queen of equal standing could defeat her, and so long as she lived, there would never be such a thing. And yet the obstacles surrounding her seemed insurmountable. Oppressive. Trapped in a cage of her own design. “No, no, no,” she grumbled to herself, coming to a halt in front of the dresser, glaring into an abyss. “Not you. Not you. Cadence, she… she did this. Toyed with you the previous night. Hoped you’d… engross yourself in her threats. Yes. Yes, that little… cur, that snake who thinks herself an angel. She’s the one who…” But if she was, then that would mean Chrysalis had been bested. And she knew for a fact that couldn’t be so: she hadn’t given up just yet. Nor had the sun risen, which meant there was still time for her to concoct a new plan of attack before she too was expected to rise. But no progress would be made if she didn’t understand the cause of her rift with Flurry Heart to begin with. “How?” she questioned, resuming the aimless circles that made her feel like she was accomplishing something. “How?” And then she jumped as she heard a knock on the door. She’d forgotten there was a door at all, and it certainly didn’t appear to be where she remembered it being. More curiously, she realised, she hadn’t heard anyone approach. Had she truly been so lost in thought? No, she was always vigilant, always watchful. Nothing, not even the ghost of a smile or the faint twitch of displeasure, slipped by her. They, whoever they were, must’ve taken precautions to stay silent. “Assassins?” They wouldn’t have bothered knocking, nor would they have fit her conduct. Unless the wretch had finally grown wise enough to sink to her cold-blooded level and end things once and for all. But the repercussions, yes, the repercussions would be too great – betraying Twilight’s ideals. She was bound to them, as much as Chrysalis was bound to her self-determined fate. The knocking came again, another three in quick succession. “Chrysalis,” Shining Armor’s voice beckoned, imbued with grim undertones. “Come out. Now.” A single assassin, then, perhaps acting on his own initiative, doing what the love of his life would not. But that didn’t make sense either: he had more reason than anyone to stay in Twilight’s good graces, and he’d been the less bellicose of the pair upon the queen’s arrival, no doubt influenced by his sister. “Now, Chrysalis,” he commanded, and knocked three more times, nearly smashing the door from its hinges. “We’re all getting tired of these games.” Games? No. No, there was only one game she ever played: the Game, where every minute, every precious second of existence was indispensable, and could mean the difference between life and death. The very same game that everyone had a part in, whether they knew it or not. A game where she was champion. Chrysalis turned towards the source of the noise and marched for it, then seized the doorknob in her magical grasp and twisted. “What?” she hissed while baring her fangs, thrusting her head through as the door swung open. Shining Armor stared back at her, nose to nose, unfazed. He wore his distinctive purple barding with gold trim, and a pair of guards flanked either side of him, each armed with swords holstered at their hips – an ideal choice for close-quarters combat. “By the authority and order of Her Royal Highness, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza of the Crystal Empire, Lady of Love and my honoured wife, and with a great deal of personal disappointment… I am hereby placing you under arrest until further notice.” An unwelcome development, but one Chrysalis had most definitely suspected might happen. Callous indeed. “Under what charge?” “Kidnapping, attempted murder, hostile actions against the crown and numerous violations of internationally recognised Equestrian sovereignty,” he elaborated, stone-faced as if he were a statue of pure white marble. “The list is incredibly detailed, well-documented and goes on and on. I can read it all to you once you’re in a cell.” Being captain suited him. Celestia certainly had an eye for talent, and Cadance, for all her infuriating qualities, had chosen well for a mate. “Spare me the pathetic attempts at concealing her true intentions. I know why she sent you.” “Then you know you’ll never see our daughter again.” The tension, the tenor of his voice, so palpable that she could practically swallow its fermented, sparkling essence by the mouthful. And it guided her as the wind would a leaf, easing her lips together from outright contempt to simmering malice. “Come to your senses at last, consort?” “I’m not sorry that you were given a chance. I’m sorry that you wasted it.” With a flick of his ear, he signalled the guards to ready their weapons. “Now, how about you come to your senses and make this easy for everypony?” She eyed his companions – three stallions and a mare – with an equally malignant gaze, before returning to him. “So I shall.” With a sudden burst of speed she yanked herself from the doorway and slammed it shut in his face, and just as Shining splintered the wood in an explosion of raw magic she removed the ring from her horn. Ice-cold flames blazed throughout the room, and before her assailants could do anything about it, Chrysalis unleashed a roar of slag and hellfire. They retreated back into the hall, while she was left free to whirl about and ram her newfound bulk against the opposing wall. The crystalline surface cracked, shattered, and terrified screams pierced through the noise of crumbling debris as Chrysalis took flight from the palace. Leathery wings carried her over the city surrounding it, casting a dreadful silhouette on the dawning sky that eclipsed the vanishing stars. But although she entertained the idea of wholesale devastation, melting their hovels and lavish abodes, random carnage wasn’t her goal. Scales burned into feathers as she came about, aiming headlong for the palace balcony overlooking the central plaza. She dove at blinding speed, then once inside swooped upwards and changed form yet again, this time into a creature that could burrow through solid bedrock. Demolishing one ceiling, emerging from the floor of the next storey, and the next, she finally found herself on the correct level. Lights trembled and flickered as tremors shook the walls, and servants scattered at the sight of her, but once she’d finished scaring off the vermin, she transformed herself one last time, and galloped deeper into the main living quarters. There, close to the centre, she came upon another door, and barged it open without caring to use her magic. Flurry gawked at her with shock and awe from the head of her bed. “M-Mom?” she stammered, hugging her favourite toy snail. “What’s happening? It sounded like—” “It’s okay, Flurry,” Chrysalis soothed, continuing to gallop toward the young mare until she was within reach, where she pulled her into a tight embrace. “It’s okay, I’m here. Mommy’s here.” She pressed her muzzle to Flurry’s forehead for a kiss, and despite the sweet perfume in her mane, she caught the foul, cloying odor of terror as well. “But we need to go. We’re not safe here anymore.” Flurry pushed against her and peered up into her eyes. “What do you mean?” “Not right now, dear.” Pulling the filly by her hoof, Chrysalis led her out of bed and began rushing back the way she came. “Your father is buying us time.” “Time for what?” Flurry cried, and the fear in her voice shot needles deep into the queen’s abdomen. “Is he in danger?” “I’m sure he’s fine.” “W-w-well, we should help him then, shouldn’t we?” “No!” Chrysalis stopped dead in her tracks and glared at Flurry with flattened ears and upturned brows, teeth chattering from the sheer amount of adrenaline coursing through her veins. But she wasn’t angry, barely even annoyed, and the rattled, confused expression she received nearly made her hearts leap to her throat. “He can handle himself. But I won’t… lose you. Not again.” The young mare’s own ears twitched. “Again?” “Never mind.” Chrysalis stiffly shook her head and resumed course for her point of entry. “We don’t have long. Your friend, the changeling, she’s escaped and—” “Chrysalis has escaped?!” “Not now, Flurry Heart. There’s no time. Now, be a good girl and follow Mommy.” She was clearly reluctant, but followed Chrysalis as she leapt up and spread her wings, gliding down through three consecutive holes in the palace’s floors, and finally landing in the atrium before the balcony. The queen grabbed hold of Flurry’s hoof again, felt a brief stab of pain between the plates of her midsection as she glimpsed the filly’s tormented eyes, and then charged with her for the exit. The sound of a pair of double doors opening caught their attention, but while Chrysalis spared it only a fleeting, almost dismissive glance and saw a small contingent of guards, she noticed Flurry was staring. Upon a closer inspection, her stomach dropped. Leading the group was none other than Cadance herself, and she’d already seen them. “That’s not your mother,” Chrysalis weakly muttered, too startled to muster anything better, and continued dashing for the balcony. “That’s not your—” But instead of the freedom of the open air, she crashed into a golden barrier of shimmering magic, so hard that she would’ve broken her neck if it had been solid. She willed herself out of a daze with a couple of blinks and another shake of the head while unsteadily scrambling to her hooves, and just as she pooled spite in her horn, ready for a battle, her vision cleared, It wasn’t Cadance who’d erected the barrier. It was Flurry. “No…” the queen said, tentatively taking an uneasy step toward her. “No, Flurry, it… it’s me. It’s—” “CHRYSALIS!” Cadance roared, more fearsome than a dragon, louder than thunder itself. Chrysalis yanked herself back at the ferocity of it, and couldn’t withdraw any further while the barrier blocked the way. She’d come so close, so very, very close, and this was how it would end – cornered like a rat in a kitchen, her ruse not unmasked through cleverness and deduction, but simple bad luck? She wanted to be mad. She wanted to rage and explode in a giant ball of flames, large enough to incinerate the entire province as she became a leviathan from the ancient days, when monsters ruled land, sea and air. She wanted this. But she couldn’t. Because Flurry was looking her in the eyes, and had tears flowing from her own. “Why, Chryssy?” she breathed, so frail that her mother’s hoofsteps nearly drowned her out entirely. “How… could you?” The betrayal she wept for now tasted like tar in the queen’s mouth; even her own feelings had turned against her. Amongst the shattered remains of the atrium ceiling, shards of crystal everywhere, it seemed as if everything had fallen to pieces. “Because…” she began, then paused as she gulped, a terrible thought crossing her mind as her gaze fell to a shard that was particularly close. And although it sickened her to think about it, she knew there was only one chance left – one desperate bid to enact what she came here to do. “Because I hate you. All of you. And that hate… is all I have left.” Flurry merely shook her head. And it wasn’t disappointment that filled the air around her, or the blunt, tasteless void of rejection, but the bittersweet scent of pity. Chrysalis silently prayed that it wouldn’t change anything. “An eye for an eye,” she dejectedly mumbled, leaning forward with a ragged sigh, only to reach across for the shard and lunge at the filly, then press the jagged tip against her throat as she glowered venomously at the approaching princess. “MY CHILDREN FOR YOURS!” Everyone in the chamber froze. Cadance went pale and, for the first time since the queen arrived, realised that fighting fire with fire would get her nowhere. She could sit on a throne, wear a crown, dress in opulent gowns too cumbersome for practical use, but true power belonged to those who seized the initiative, and Chrysalis had beaten her to it. “I’ll do it,” she growled, eyeing the princess and each guard surrounding her, all stunned beyond belief, dread oozing from their every pore. “I’d always planned to. A little contingency, you see. If I couldn’t steal her from you, as mine were stolen from me… then I’ll just leave you as heartbroken as I was.” Flurry whimpered and squirmed. Chrysalis adjusted her grip to minimise the young mare’s efforts and dragged the shard lower, aimed for between her ribs. The poetry of the moment almost made up for the inelegant brutality that brought it about. Almost. “Don’t hurt her,” Cadance requested, a few degrees shy of begging. “Please. She’s—” “Your world? Your everything? Your precious little dove?” The queen breathlessly chuckled. “I know exactly how you feel. How… crushing it seems, to face the prospect of a life without purpose. Without someone to care for. Without someone who cares for you.” She shook her head. “My family died when your sister-in-law started preaching those virtues of hers, it just took a while for the rot to kill them. And now, if you don’t let me leave with Flurry… your daughter will be another of her victims.” A teardrop shed from the mother’s eye, followed by a second, and without any options left to her, she shuddered in horror. There was nothing she could say, nothing she could do, no order she could give that would help, and the sheer panic that reverberated from her was like ambrosia to Chrysalis, a moment she’d waited years for. But although she wished to relish it, to soak in every detail so that she’d never forget – the quiver of a lower lip, the drooping of wings, ears and a tail, the unbridled agony in a pair of violet eyes – something was awry. Not in Cadance or the guards that hung on her word, who were all undoubtedly paralysed, but the situation itself. Chrysalis glanced this way and that, searching the corners, what remained of the ceiling, even the now unobstructed balcony, but didn’t see anything. And yet she knew, she knew, that something wasn’t right, that something had gone wrong, or had always been wrong. “Well?” she demanded, shaking her head once again, and silently daring this unseen threat to stop her as she took a step rearwards. “What shall it be? Where’s your gallantry now? Who’ll stand up and be the hero?” “Nobody.” She looked down with wide eyes. Flurry stared back, trembling where she lay on her side. “They can’t do anything,” she said, and every nervous breath brought her barrel dangerously close to the makeshift dagger. “You’ve won. But you don’t want to win anymore, do you?” “Ridiculous,” Chrysalis spat. “I… am a changeling. The changeling. Queen Chrysalis: the last great villain in all of Equestria!” “Then why haven’t you done it already?” Flurry shivered and forced herself to be brave. “You know I’ll never stop trying to escape. That’s why I had to go with you willingly. And if this is your fallback plan, if you wanted to go through with it… you wouldn’t be holding me hostage. You wouldn’t be talking so much. You wouldn’t… care.” Ignoring her should’ve been easy – she was younger than Twilight and no less impassioned. It should’ve been. Chrysalis needed it to be. But for as much as she willed herself with all her strength to lift her foreleg and plunge it straight down… she couldn’t. Her body had frozen in place, just like the others. “But I know you do.” Slowly and tentatively, Flurry crawled out from her grasp, then sat on the floor in front of her. “I know you don’t want to do this. I know you don’t want to lose me, Chryssy.” She raised a hoof and gently lowered the queen’s own. “And I… I don’t want to lose you either.” Seconds, minutes, hours may as well have passed, but it all passed in the blink of an eye. All Chrysalis could remember was the sound and sensation of weeping, a tender embrace, and then being carried away to darkness and dreams.
Victory in DefeatThe dungeons smelled old, their ambient emotion dry and stale like desert sand – a sure sign they’d barely been used in centuries. Not even a clichéd rat scurried amongst their largely abandoned caverns. But this was as much as she deserved: a cell to herself, and nothing but an endless hollow for company. Chrysalis sat in the corner she deemed furthest from the bars, a silver platter bearing her breakfast left untouched in the centre of the cool, perfectly smooth floor. She was hungry, close to starving, but she couldn’t bring herself to eat after what she’d done, and almost convinced herself to do. An echo resounded throughout the chasm, and the clop of hooves followed. It wasn’t long before she caught the scent of expensive perfume, along with the sterile aroma of sombre acceptance. She didn’t need to see who it was, and even as the figure stopped by her cell, illuminating the way and casting long shadows with a golden glow, Chrysalis refused to look at her. “Don’t.” Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, having opened her mouth to speak, gradually closed it. “I know what you’ve come here to say,” Chrysalis murmured and shook her head. “Don’t. I’m not worthy of absolution.” “That’s not for you to decide.” “Why shouldn’t it be?” she countered, deigning to briefly peer at Cadance from the corner of her eye. “You were right. From the moment I arrived, you always were. You were right to distrust me, to try and separate me from Flurry. You saw through my lies as if they were crystal clear, and I took pride in trying to deceive you.” There was a pause. “You don’t anymore.” “But I shouldn’t have been like that in the first place. None of this should’ve happened. And it was my pride, my… petty need for vengeance… that nearly stole your daughter away from you – the only one who believed in me.” Another pause, longer this time. “I’d be lying if I said I’m not bitter about it,” Cadance admitted, followed by a drawn-out sigh. “I still am. I’ve had nightmares of you threatening her, pressing that crystal to her throat. But I’m not here to tell you about them. I’m here because I don’t want to be mad at you anymore.” A speech, Chrysalis had expected. That little titbit, however, she hadn’t, and she turned her head ever so slightly toward her. “Is Flurry?” “No.” The princess faintly, but not unnervingly, smiled. “And I envy her for that. She knew who you were before you came to us, what you could do while you were here, and even when you showed your true colours… or what you and I thought your true colours were… she still had faith in you. Because she saw something I never wanted to: a mother.” Chrysalis felt a pang within her. She wasn’t sure how to react, but her instinct to be ashamed didn’t feel right. Every emotion brighter than melancholy would only get her in more trouble – invite suspicion, further distrust, and then exile or worse. “I love Flurry Heart,” Cadance continued, her tone dragging its heels back into a cheerless timbre. “I’d do anything for her. What that includes, I hope I’ll never find out. But maybe, looking at us through that same lens… we aren’t as different as I first thought.” She could monologue all she liked, but Chrysalis wouldn’t let herself be convinced. She’d lied before, and Flurry had turned away because of it. “I told her love can be a dangerous thing.” “It certainly can,” the princess soberly agreed, much to Chrysalis’ surprise. “I don’t know what your life was like before Canterlot, but it’s clear to me now that… you relied on your children to keep you going. And their absence hurt you. So from one mother to another—” “Don’t.” Chrysalis shook her head once more, looking to Cadance with upturned brows and straining to keep the wetness from her eyes. “Please. Just don’t.” Cadance stared back, caught somewhat off-guard, but eventually closed her mouth again and gulped. “Then how can we make this better between us?” It took a while for Chrysalis to come up with a response, and then another moment before she summoned the courage for it. “Let me see her again,” she said, her volume nearing a whisper’s pitch, her tone almost pleading. “Let me apologise. It… might be too soon… but if I could just see her one last time…” The princess was silent, betraying nothing but a contemplative, pensive air. “When she’s ready.” And then after a beat, perhaps to gather her wits, she turned and began walking back the way she had come, heading for a staircase far out of sight. “Cadance…” Her hoofsteps halted. Chrysalis cautiously shimmied toward her cell’s entrance, as if approaching too fast might trigger some form of trap, even though she knew full well that both their vindictive days were over. “Have you heard anything from Thorax?” she queried, pressing her forehead against the bars, gazing into the gloom and clinging to an empty hope. “Does he know I’m here? Are my children upset with me?” Yet another pause, before the tension eased. “I never said a word to them.” Chrysalis let an anxious, tattered breath go and allowed the warmth of relief to fill her chitinous shell. “Thank you,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut so that a tear fell freely. “Thank you.” The princess resumed her ascent and closed the dungeons’ entrance behind her, and all was still and quiet in their depths. But Chrysalis didn’t mind so much anymore, because she was grinning from ear to ear.
