We Have No Mouths, and We Must Confess

Act 3 Part 2

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A sharp stone flew from under Starlight’s hoof, causing her wince. She squinted into the distance and had to suppress a groan—the Hive seemed even further than it was minutes ago. Her tired gaze wandered across her company, both Thorax and Discord appearing just as unsatisfied with the arduous drudging across the unwelcoming waste, despite it being the home to the former. Trixie, however, seemed fine dealing with the coarse road under her hooves.

Noticing Starlight staring at her, she neared her friend and loudly whispered, nudging her with the elbow, “So, how is it?”

“How is what?”

“Glad to see you are as dense as I remember you; wisdom in stability, they say,” Trixie grumbled with a roll of her eyes. “Living together with Miss-Knows-It-All.”

“We aren’t.” Starlight’s voice was quiet and dry. “I stay at Carousel Boutique.”

“Wait, what happened? Don’t tell me she kicked you out.”

“She didn’t, I left on my own.”

“What!?” Trixie’s yell was loud enough to bring the attention of their companions but didn’t keep it for long, letting her continue, “For Celestia’s sake, I’ve been gone for just a few months…” Pinching the bridge of her nose with the hoof, she sighed. “Okay, start from the beginning.”

“There is nothing to tell.”

Starlight tried to veer away from Trixie, yet found no success as she followed her with a determined expression. She then turned away and was prodded gently in the shoulder by her friend.

“C’mon, Starlight.”

She hesitated, choosing how to present the sudden confrontation followed by months of dejection. Letting out a sigh on her own, she decided on the simple, “She let me know it was inappropriate.”

Trixie’s reaction was immediate—she blew a raspberry.

Giving her an annoyed glance, Starlight murmured, “Twilight has a point—we are a student and a teacher.”

“What nonsense.” Again, Trixie was fast to reply. “You’re as much her student as her prisoner.”

They walked in silence for a few long minutes, Starlight receiving an impatient look until she finally spoke, her tone melancholic, “It’s funny, you know. I proved to everypony I’m no longer evil, yet in the end, it’s her still considering me as such, even if she doesn’t fully realize it herself.”

“It is not funny because it is not true. The only thing your precious egghead doesn’t understand—she is as dumb as a rock.”

Starlight tried to glare at her, but it came out as an exhausted stare.

“Do you consider anypony other than yourself smart, Trixie?”

“The Great and Powerful Trixie chooses not to answer that question for your own sake,” she replied with a trademark haughty expression but quickly dropped the act. “Anyway, Twilight loves to create problems where they don’t exist.” She added with a guffaw, “I don’t know why I’m telling you this—you should know it for yourself, it makes me sound like I’m her marefriend and not you.”

This time Starlight managed to muster a glare so severe it even conjured some politeness from the magician.

“Sorry.” Trixie was swift to recover from the rare moment of embarrassment. “All that talk about you together being inappropriate and so on is just a facade.”

“To hide what?”

“She’s scared.”

“And what should I do?” A mien of utter despair washed away the calm and defiant mask from Starlight’s face. “The last time I tried to talk to her, she just ignored my words.”

“What are you…” Trixie frowned, fumbling with words. “What was that pegasus’ name… Shutterfly?”

“It’s Fluttershy, o, the Smart and Wise Trixie.”

“Do it again, and you will have to deal with your romantic escapade on your own.” Despite how menacing her words sounded, she was smiling; it went unnoticed by Starlight, who stared at her hooves as she dragged them across the discoloured dirt. Trixie elbowed her and after receiving a half-hearted grin continued, “What I wanted to say before you interrupted me is that you’re not Fluttershy—you have to be assertive. Talk to her again.” Shaking her head with an annoyed sigh, she finished, “Seriously, you both are as good as mute.”

“I told you it didn't work—and it wouldn’t. If I press an issue too hard I can make things only more difficult, if not impossible to fix.”

“Then figure out something. Put it in a way she can’t escape.”

Blinking groggily, Twilight opened her eyes and didn’t recognize her surroundings—dark and damp, smelling sharply with a heavy foreign aroma. Then they shot wide open and simultaneously she tried to move, to discover she couldn’t. She then funnelled arcane energies into her horn, aiming to dispel the shadows and find out what bound her—and failed miserably as magic refused to answer her call. However, the lack of success didn’t prevent her from struggling in her unknown chains.

She froze when the all too familiar cackle reached her ears.

“There is no escape this time.” Queen Chrysalis emerged from the darkness, flashing long fangs with her predatory grin. “I’m not making the same mistake twice.”

“You’ve already failed—we know how to defeat you!”

The changeling queen’s horn flared with sickly green light and a loud gasp of horror escaped Twilight’s lips—all around her, encased into the cocoons of pale lime slime were her friends, her brother and all the alicorns in Equestria.

“You were saying?”

Twilight’s gaze kept jumping between the peaceful expressions of the ponies so dear to her as they remained unconscious in the cages of hardened mucus, shifting in their artificial sleep. She almost screamed again when the light faded away, submerging them into the black.

As her mouth opened and closed, unable to find any retort, Chrysalis smiled wider. Beaming like a filly on Hearth’s Warming Eve, she seemed to be almost dancing in place.

“I won!” The glee in her voice made it vibrate in the strange insect way. “Everypony you love, everything you love—I stole from you like you almost stole victory from me.”

“We… we are going to stop you.” Each word was quieter than the previous until it was but a whisper, “Somehow we will.”

“I almost feel sorry for you.” Chrysalis stepped closer to Twilight and, despite her attempts to move away, leaned so close their noses almost touched. “No, not because of your defeat—nothing makes me happier.” The changeling breathed in deeply. “So full of love… and it’s festering—unanswered, wasted.”

Twilight considered spitting in her adversary’s face, however, those words rendered her mind blank; not for long—icy cold claws of fear gripped her consciousness. For Queen Chrysalis there was no secret, no hiding from her hunger—she saw her feelings clearer than Twilight herself. Still, she tried to fight, even if weakly.

“You don’t know what you are talking about.”

The changeling queen smiled almost sadly, “I know the feeling better than anypony ever would.” Then her expression changed into a malicious grin. “So, who is that oblivious pony? Your secret shameful crush?”

Twilight did try to spit at her, but Chrysalis moved away already, the porous chitin scraping against the stone. A few seconds later she reappeared, looming over the five smaller cocoons.

“One of your friends, perhaps?” She laughed mockingly. “Afraid it wouldn’t go further than just friendship?” The light on the tip of her curved horn died. “No, not them.”

Her lean form materialized above two larger phlegm prisons, surrounded by a sickly halo. Beneath her, Cadance and Shining Armor squirmed in the shadow of their sworn enemy.

“Regardless of who it is, it would be equally disturbing.”

Seeing no reaction other than disgust fighting concern on the face of her captive, she moved away, casting the glow on the cocoon in the vicinity, a form of alabaster alicorn inside.

“Is it her? That would be so scandalous, so twisted.” Her eyes squinted as she saw Twilight clenching her jaw—close, but not it. The light shifted to another large dark form floating obliviously in the murky viscous liquid, “Maybe her sister?”

Suddenly, tears welled in Twilight’s eyes—they weren’t shed for Princess Luna; it wasn’t the crippling sorrow of defeat summoning them.

Starlight wasn’t amongst the captured.

As a fragile smile blossomed on her face, her jailer frowned.

“I see,” Chrysalis hissed, “Not here.”

Twilight didn’t listen to her, continuing smiling dumbly as moisture rolled down her cheeks—at least, Starlight was free and safe. The happiness was mixed with a tinge of regret of letting the important words unsaid; it grew stronger as her aching heart counted a beat after a beat, clenched by deep remorse.

Looking around through the haze of woe, Twilight couldn’t help but wonder if it was it—the situation seemed terminal. In moments like this, many things appearing to matter once became worthless; others—more important than ever.

The smile faded away from Twilight’s face as she realized she missed the most important one in the world.