1. Where Pride Arrives, So To Follows Disgrace
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1. Where Pride Arrives, So To Follows Disgrace
Chrysalis awoke to a blinding, bright light.
The first sensation to return was touch. She stumbled like a young nymph, wildly lashing out for any sense of bearing. Moments before, she swore she was drowning. When the air hit her lungs, she let forth a great gasp as if it were her last.
Next was her taste; between furious coughs, the flavour of rock lingered upon her lips. The sisters’ spell still distorted her hearing witha high-pitched din piercing her skull. But that was nothing compared to what happened to her vision. It was still overwhelmed by an array of light so intense that it burned. To be without eyes confined in some void of endless colour from which nothing could be discerned.
Thankfully, after what seemed like an eternity, the rainbows in her vision and the roar of harmony subsided. Even the rocky taste passed after a few careful flicks of her tongue. However, the stiffness in her joints remained, evident from how her muscles screamed out in protest at every slight move. Her weak knees buckled furiously, but she did not fall.
As her vision returned to normal, she found herself in a bright, plain, white room.
To her left was a closed, plain white door. In front of her was a chair tucked into a table with a neat stack of papers located on one side; across from the empty chair, there was another seat which was occupied by a lavender figure.
Chrysalis blinked several times; she knew that contemptuous little face anywhere.
“Twilight Sparkle!”
She moved to lunge. Not an insignificant action considering her weakened state. Still, she believed there was enough strength in her to tear out the wretched princess’s throat. Her target sat impassively; not even a flinch emanated from the princess even as Chrysalis let forth a roar as she threw herself into the air.
Into her action, she poured every ounce of rage, hatred and humiliation she had within her. She would kill Twilight Sparkle if it was the last thing she would do, even though her legs screeched in protest and the pain at the base of her horn was all-encompassing.
And then she was stopped.
Chrysalis heaved as she was frozen in place. The adrenaline that had pushed her immediately subsided, and all the pain she had repressed returned tenfold. She wheezed pitifully through ragged breaths leaning into whatever force held her.
“You should not strain yourself,” Twilight chided gently. Her tone was like that of a parent admonishing a foal. Once more, Chrysalis’s spite threatened to overcome her exhaustion, and her mind focused on lashing out. However, she did not move to repeat her action.
Gently Twilight’s magic eased Chrysalis into a waiting chair in front of her. However, it was not until she was free of her captors constraining grip that she once more could breathe freely. When her laboured breaths eventually subsided, she got her first real glimpse at her old foe.
She had changed.
Gone was the small, nervous mare that had confronted Chrysalis at Princess Cadance’s wedding what seemed like a lifetime ago. In her stead stood a giant of a figure, a towering visage of royal authority. In many ways, she was the mirror image of Celestia. Chrysalis would have been in awe in any other circumstance, but she was quick to suppress any visible hint of this to her much-altered foe. Regardless, the monarch of friendship seemed to notice Chrysalis’s evident surprise.
“It has been quite some time, Chrysalis. Much has changed since we last spoke. And I do not merely speak of my appearance.”
Chrysalis hesitated to answer. Yet her pride could not let her wallow in silence. To do so would be to admit that she was not in control of the situation, that she was a prisoner and not a rightful Queen. Her first words were ragged hisses that would have been lost were it not for the general quietness of the room.
“You look ever more like that sow Celestia. How fitting.” Twilight made no move to reply to her insult. She sat as immovable as ever. Chrysalis used the pause in the conversation to find more of her voice. “Where am I?”
“Somewhere safe,” Twilight responded vaguely. “Somewhere we can talk.”
Chrysalis fell silent for a moment before she began to laugh and laughed some more. It hurt terribly; each bellowing snicker pressed painfully against her lungs. But, she did not care, as long as she could continue to witness the befuddled look upon her enemy’s face. Chrysalis allowed herself a smile. It was a small victory, but she would take it.
“After all this time, you wish to speak to me?” Chrysalis threw back her head and continued laughing. “How many years has it been? A hundred, perhaps? More even?”
“You would assume correctly,” Twilight said passively, clearly unimpressed by Chrysalis’s display.
“So, my sentence has finally been served,” she sang disdainfully. “My gracious jailor has decided that it’s now time for a stern talking to; I tremble in terror at the thought. And what would you speak to me of, dear Princess?” She locked eyes with Twilight. Her mocking insincerity soon gave way to angry pride. Her voice was practically a growl as she continued.
“On the value of your precious friendship? How I am such a villain, so cruel and mean to your precious little ponies, that I need to see the error of my ways. That only through magnanimous teaching shall I find salvation, or I shall return to my stony prison. Spare me.” Chrysalis rolled her eyes.
When she next spoke, her words carried as one would to an equal rather than a jailor and a prisoner. Fury powered her words; with each harsh syllable she spoke, she let forth stinging venom that would cause even the hardest of souls to flinch.
“I will not be some puppet to bow and kiss the ground before you., Sparkle. To be bait for the mob’s enjoyment like some exotic animal, the fate of the neutered fools you proclaim to ‘reform’. I would rather suffer the inequity of a million years in stony prison than let you parade me as some trophy!”
Chrysalis slumped as she finished her last words. Whatever energy she had spent with her outburst. If this was to be her final act amongst the waking world, she could content herself in the knowledge that she spat one last time in the foul princess’s face. Chrysalis breathed heavily in and out, which was the only sound in the room for some time.
“Are you quite finished?”
Chrysalis’s head immediately lifted to regard her opposite. Twilight wore a scowl on her face, and when she next spoke, she almost sounded…bored.
“How long have you been preparing that? Are you sure you have not used it before? You must truly hate me.”
“I do,” Chrysalis hissed.
“That is unfortunate,” Twilight sighed. “I had hoped your imprisonment would have led to some reflection. I don’t know, perhaps even a change of tack, at least this time.”
“You don’t know me,” Chrysalis spat.
She would never relent; despite her species name, she would pursue the course she had always had since the day she had become queen, her singular vision, the only dream that mattered. A world where the changelings took their rightful place above their prey. Where they could feed openly on the species of the world and not be limited to the shadows. It was the goal of all changelings that had ruled since time immemorial. There was no room for deviation.
She could only go forward.
Whether that was to her victory or her death was inconsequential.
Only forward.
“No, I don’t,” Twilight said, softer than Chrysalis had expected. “I wish it had been otherwise. I truly believe that beneath your cruelty lays a brilliant— if fundamentally flawed—mind.”
Chrysalis grew tired of these tangential conversations. It had outlived the amusement she had garnered initially from it. “Flattery will get you nowhere,” she snapped. “You hardly thawed me out just for a nice little chat. Or have the years of courtiers kissing the ground beneath your throne dullened your mind that I am the only decent company you have left?”
“I am not here to reform you, Chrysalis. On the contrary, I’m releasing you.”
Twilight’s words left the fallen queen stunned. She sat there blinking for several moments, her jaw agape in surprise. She had not planned for such a scenario. It was inconceivable. She could only suppose it was a trap —something to get her to lower her guard. But unfortunately, her following words flowed out before she could get her thoughts in order.
“Excuse me?”
“I am freeing you,” Twilight repeated. “That door leads to the back exit of the castle.” She indicated toward the door off to the left of where Chrysalis sat. “It should lead you out onto the main street. You could probably catch the half twelve train if you were quick.”
The casualness of Twilight’s tone confused Chrysalis. She was good at reading emotions, an ability ingrained into every changeling. However, Twilight was a blank canvas in terms of emotion. There was no hint of bitterness, not even a hint of distaste. Just calm emotionlessness, as if Twilight were speaking of something as mundane as the weather. It instantly put up Chrysalis’s guard. Now more than ever, she doubted the legitimacy of the offer.
“This is a trick. You would never let me go. What do you actually want?”
“I don’t want anything from you, Chrysalis,” Twilight said with a hint of sadness. “I just want to give you the chance to be happy. In whatever way that may be.”
“I was happy,” Chrysalis hissed. “Until you, your friends and that horrid bitch, Starlight Glimmer, took everything from me!”
“Were you really, though?” Twilight inquired, undeterred by the sudden outburst. “The leader of a half-starved nation fighting for scraps in the wasteland. Living day-to-day without knowledge that it may be your last. The only thing you had was what you have taken from others. If you define that as a happy life, I would view that as not much as life at all.”
Chrysalis wanted to snap back; her eyes widened in anger; her rage was almost uncontrollable. She found herself shaking violently.
To be lectured by Twilight Sparkle of all ponies on what it meant to be a leader. It was absurd! The pretty pony princess had never known hardship. She was the lesser foal of greater mares. Chrysalis had built her kingdom; she had merely inherited what was already formed. Chrysalis would wipe that arrogant smile off that sow’s face if it was the last thing she ever did. Then she would know true suffering.
“Regardless, the past is the past,” Twilight persisted. “I assure you my offer is sincere. I will not stop you. No one will. Perhaps the worst you shall receive is some bemused looks. I give you this opportunity in good faith even if I recognise that you don’t see it that way.
“You can go anywhere you want. You can choose to have the life you want. Whether that is you bitterly recriminating on what was taken from you or finding a new purpose beyond that, it Is irrelevant. Only that it would be your choice.”
“Good faith,” Chrysalis mocked. “You speak such sweet little words—of freedom and the pursuit of happiness. Do you take me for a fool?” Chrysalis fixed Twilight with a hateful gaze. “I have spent my entire existence as a liar, Twilight Sparkle. I know when someone is hiding something from me. Cease this poor mare’s ever-wise monarch performance and speak truthfully.”
For the first time, Twilight’s neutral mask slipped, and a pained expression dawned over her face. Nevertheless, Chrysalis relished in its sudden appearance. Give her time, and she would see that it would be a permanent feature.
“You are partially correct…I have not been entirely truthful. Your freedom would not be unconditional.”
Before Chrysalis could crow triumphantly, Twilight’s horn pulsed with magic as she produced an object from beneath the table.
It was a singular stone tablet, no larger than her hoof. Even though Twilight let it fall gently upon the table’s surface, it landed with a thunderous thud. Its weight made apparent to Chrysalis.
She glanced at the rock and gawked in befuddlement at its appearance. It was relatively plain and grey but polished like marble, with no visible chipping on its rather mesmerising surface. Etched into its edifice was a tree.
However, it was a tree unlike any Chrysalis had ever seen before. It displayed both the leaf-tipped branches down to sprawling roots, both sides of the tree mirroring each other in size and shape. The tree itself was contained within a stylised circle with nine curling patterns dancing on its edge. These patterns resembled bushes, which withing contained several seedlings. At its centre lay many overlapping branches imitating the shape of a heart.
This was no mere decorative plague. There was magic at work here. She had lived many years; countless generations had passed before her eyes, but this stone was magnitudes beyond that. It most certainly belonged to a time before recorded history. An era where spirits freely roamed the world, and the winds of magic blew strong.
“What is this?” Chrysalis demanded.
“It is an oathstone,” Twilight said softly, gently touching the stone with the tip of her hoof. Chrysalis scrunched up her muzzle in consternation.
“Is that meant to mean something to me?”
“No,” Twilight answered. She paused as if to gather her thoughts. “I do not expect you to know what it is. But you know that it is magical. Specifically, an older form of magic. One thought lost to history.” Twilight exhaled heavily. “Until recently.”
“As much as I desire to indulge whatever archaeological adventure you have been engaging in, I must ask what it has got to do with me?” Twilight blinked, and for the briefest moment, Chrysalis swore a flash of anger passed over her face. But it was gone before she could even sense the emotion.
“Everything,” Twilight said solemnly. “Its name is a relative clue to its purpose. These stones were created in the age before Equestria. We do not know who created them. I don’t think we ever will. Whatever their initial aim, we have recovered enough to understand their function. The society that forged them placed a great deal of faith in what they called a Geas.
“No word in modern Equestrian translates directly to it. Though it roughly means a binding oath. To them, whoever they may have been, the upholding of promises was as important as life or death. Something that bound parties to a contract written in impenetrable stone.”
Chrysalis’s eyes went wide at that. Twilight’s designs revealed to her. The shock overwhelmed any outrage that exuded from her. Her next words came out as a breathless whisper.
“You plan to use this stone on me?”
“Yes,” Twilight said. “This stone is not bound. I have recreated the spell behind the Geas that will bind an oath-taker to the stone.” Twilight’s voice raised a few octaves. Her very words seemed to echo heavily.
The room seemed to darken significantly, and to Chrysalis, the Princess seemed ringed by unnatural light. Chrysalis was spellbound, unable to move or speak. She sensed no magic, but the result was the same regardless.
“Your freedom I shall guarantee Chrysalis, for now until the end of your days. But only if you swear upon this stone, the following-
‘I Queen Chrysalis, Queen of the Changelings, do solemnly swear that I will not bring harm, conspire to bring harm or take up arms, both directly and indirectly, against any creature of Equestria or its allies or friends, except in matters of self-defence, for as long as I shall live.’”
The light in the room returned, and whatever aura that Twilight had donned dissipated. She smiled sadly in Chrysalis’s direction, the kind of smile that belonged to a concerned friend or a disapproving family member.
“You can’t be serious?” Chrysalis raged violently pushed the stone back towards Twilight. “Never! Not in a thousand lifetimes would I ever agree to such humiliation!”
“Chrysalis, I am not a fool. You know I can’t let you leave unless I’m guaranteed that you won’t hurt anyone in Equestria again,” Twilight said. “However, if you take this oath, you are free to do whatever you wish without my interference for the rest of the days. That is my end of the bargain.”
“The promise of a thief and a tyrant!” Chrysalis roared. “You would have me bound like a slave. And if I break this oath? It will kill me?” Twilight shook her head vigorously.
“No, no, nothing as barbaric as that. Once you perform the oath, you will not be physically able to harm another unless in matters of your self-preservation.”
“If I shatter the stone?” Chrysalis eyed the tablet avidly.
“The stone itself is just the physical contract,” Twilight said. “Only the original spellcaster can release you from it.”
“How convenient for you then,” Chrysalis spat. “And were I to reject your oh-so gracious proposal?”
“Then this is as far as we go,” Twilight said gravely.
Gone was any sense of pity or curious neutrality. Instead, Twilight’s eyes gleamed dangerously, and her words took on a menacing edge, leaving no room for interpretation of the meaning of what she implied. But beneath the cold, judging exterior, Chrysalis could feel a flicker of something else. It was the tinge of regret.
Chrysalis herself was a tempest of emotions.
The sudden onset of fear that emanated from Twilight’s threat, her frustration that she had been boxed into two unpalpable decisions she did not relish, her pride furiously crying out that death was preferable to humiliation, and finally a deep wellspring of anger.
Anger at her helplessness, anger at her failures, anger at Twilight and her disgusting subjects, but more than anything else, she was enraged at that sliver of pity displayed on the princess’s face. It stung deeper than any insult or wound. For a queen to be something to be pitied, it was as if she was already dead.
Chrysalis sat still as the storm raged inside of her. Twilight patiently waited. She seemed to be in a rush. But at last, the fallen queen let forth a strangled cry. Her body shook.
Even now, her instincts urged her to lash out, to crush and kill her foe. But she knew the truth. She could not overcome the Princess of Friendship.
She was just a shadow in the presence of a greater light.
Chrysalis closed her eyes and clenched her jaw. Her words came out as a mix between guttural growls and pained whines.
“What do you get out of this? The satisfaction of knowing you have robbed me so? First, you take my hive from me, then my revenge, and now you demand I be another one of your hapless puppets!
“You are cruel, Twilight Sparkle. Just as cruel as Celestia. Just as cruel as I. But the difference is I admit it. I am not ashamed of who I am. But what would your precious magic of friendship view how far you have fallen?”
“You think I wanted to do this?!” Twilight bellowed, her face contorted furiously in outrage. Chrysalis recoiled at the first genuine display of anger from your opposite. “You think I did not know that perhaps this is wrong? I am well aware that this is not ideal. But it is not about what is ideal. It is about what is necessary.”
Twilight closed her eyes and breathed heavily in and out several times. She sported an expression that bordered between exasperation and exhaustion. Nevertheless, she seemed to be building up some courage to speak further. When she did, the revelation shook Chrysalis to her core.
“We’ve been here before Chrysalis.”
“W-what?” Chrysalis muttered in disbelief. The shock rattled her, the tiredness in her legs returned tenfold. Suddenly it required a tremendous amount of energy just to stand.
“I have released you three times from stone previous,” Twilight said. “I have heard the speeches—the grand declarations of revenge, the disgust aimed at myself and the defiance of a proud queen has all played out before. I know every detail.” Twilight gestured to the previously untouched pile of papers on her side of the table next to the stone.
“You lie,” Chrysalis declared shakily. “I-I don’t remember.”
“Of course, you don’t,” Twilight answered as if it was obvious. She casually lifted a pile of pages, scanning their words before thrusting them towards Chrysalis. “You didn’t the last time or the time before.”
Chrysalis glanced down at the pages before her. The words on it were her words; some changed here or there, but words of intent that were similar to the ones she had just spoken minutes ago. She knew in the core of the being that they were hers. The transcript of the pages ended with her refusing, just as she did moments ago. She violently shuffled the pages, furiously blinking as she took in more instances of the same conversation, similar words, demands and endings. She wanted to stop, but she could not.
“That’s i-impossible.” The pages crumpled in her grasp, shakily discarding them onto the table.
“No, it’s not,” Twilight curtly retorted. “You block out the truth because it’s too painful to hear. Why? Because you can’t bear the thought, you have lost. You cannot let your quest for revenge go. You reset Chrysalis to the moment of your first imprisonment. Playing everything over and over again. Each time I reach out to you, you reject me, and we have to start over again a few decades later.”
Twilight lifted herself from her chair and approached the shaking queen. She lowered herself close to Chrysalis and gently took Chrysalis’s hoof. Despite Chrysalis’s hatred of the mare, she did not immediately reject the comforting gesture, for reasons she wasn’t even herself was not entirely sure of.
“I have tried Chrysalis.” Twilight’s voice was almost a whisper; it came out as a whimper. “I have tried so hard to get you to see the light. Each time you push me away. I-I think I have to come to terms with that. As much as it pains me, I finally believe you for once. I cannot save you. I wish I could be content with who you are and let you live freely. I really do.
“But I can’t, Chrysalis. You are violent, cunning and dangerous. You’ve overseen the deaths of countless innocents. You are easily the most dangerous being in the world. If I free you unconditionally, I know you will hurt my subjects again.”
Twilight looked strained, her eyes downcast, her lips pursed tight. Her grip around Chrysalis’s hoof tightened. Chrysalis could almost taste the fatigue radiating off the monarch. Eventually, Twilight continued.
“I can’t do this anymore, Chrysalis. I have thought long and hard about this. It’s wrong to keep you as some circus show in the garden, forever trapped between the world of the living and the dead in a stony purgatory. Some of my subjects are worried you’ll get free one day and go on a rampage. A lot of voices are demanding permanent solutions. Very influential voices, I should mention. I never wanted that. I still do not. So, I proposed something else.”
“Something desperate,” Chrysalis interjected.
“Yes, you could say that,” Twilight said, her eyes turning breifly to the stone. Twilight released her grip on Chrysalis and moved swiftly back into her seat. A part of Chrysalis missed its reassuring warmth. Twilight tapped the oath stone on the table. “This is the only other way.”
“The only way,” Chrysalis repeated. Her jaw clenched furiously; her black rage had returned tenfold. Now she understood the full scope of her predicament.
She violently erupted from her seat. The chair slammed loudly against the floor. Twilight did not even flinch. “The only way! You make me choose between the abyss and eternal servitude and call it small mercy!”
“I want you to be happy, Chrysalis,” Twilight urged. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted for anypony. So, you have a choice. You can say the words, bind yourself to the stone, walk through that door, and the world beyond or your story comes to a close in this room.” Chrysalis tried to interrupt, but Twilight abruptly cut her off. “The time for debate is over Chrysalis. I have given you my reasons. You have given yours. I won’t change my course on this. The question is, will you?”
Chrysalis wanted to say more. But the words died in her throat. She stared at Twilight, who returned her gaze. She wanted to do a lot of things. She tried to scream, to curse, to rip and tear and destroy it all.
But she knew the truth. Deep within the recesses of her being, beneath the façade of arrogance she put on for the world, she could only there admit that she was afraid.
Terrified, in fact.
All her plans, her schemes, her deceptions lay in ruins. She had been deposed and imprisoned, and now her foes were more potent than ever before.
Even if she escaped that cursed oath? Could she alone stand against all the might availed against her? Twilight may not know everything about her, but she knew of her, and she had grown terribly wise in the years that had passed. Chrysalis would not so easily trick her adversary again.
Every rational self-preserving sense within her demanded that she escape her fear, speak the oath. Swallow her pride and find some dark corner in the deepest shadows of the world and stew away from it all. Perhaps she could start again with a new hive away from accursed Thorax and his false disciples? Away from the terrible princess and her judging eyes. But even then, doubt lingered like a poisnous haze swirling around her.
After all she had sacrificed; did she have the will to start again? To rebuild all she had lost? Could she even if she tried? There were a million swirling questions in her mind. Yet, the terror of death seemed to be almost inconsequential compared to the dread of the world that lay beyond that ominous door.
It was the fear of the unknown.
But if she accepted her end, right here in now, she could die with her principles intact, her pride. She could spit in the foul Princess’s face one last time and curse her as she passed on to the other side. Let her words haunt the pony for all of eternity.
She would die as a Queen.
But?
A voice inside her head countered this point. A queen of what? The nation she led was gone. She had viewed herself as an intricate weaver of webs, plans and deceit to see her ultimate dream come true. The mythicised saviour of her race would lead them out of the dark into their rightful place in the world. But even her dream had been stolen. One of her rebellious children had usurped her and taken all she had built onto a different path. Perhaps even irreversibly. The horror of truth struck her in the face.
She was the last of the changelings.
To die or live was to decide the death of a thousand generations of tradition, for only Chrysalis had been taught all that the leaders of their race had.
Thorax had never taught.
He could never have been, only her, the last queen. If she died, so did everything that she had strived for, perhaps even without mention, a figure to fade into the deepest annals of history, a mere smudge on the bottom of a page. Or she could choose the door and all the uncertainty that lay there, bound by a stone. She would admit the failure of her dream, the vindication of the traitors—the final dethroning of a monarch.
Chrysalis’s breathing increased rapidly. A war was being fought within her, and she could not decide the outcome. She could only wait until one clear voice told her—no—demanded of her what to do.
“I-I-I—”
“It’s just a few words,” Twilight whispered soothingly. Her voice hummed like a sweet song in Chrysalis’s ears. It was full of sadness but also pangs of compassion. The gentle pleading could almost be confused for that of genuine concern for Chrysalis. “Just a formality.”
She steeled herself. She looked between Twilight and the door and then back down at the stone. It was almost comforting to sense the gentle pulses of its ancient magic.
Take the oath it whispered to her. Be free.
But she could gain no joy from it. All she saw was a chain to throw around her hooves. But the other voice spoke temptingly still. It was nought, but temporary imprisonment, the freedom to obtain more freedom and from that opportunity may lay. She could not say which agreed with more.
But as several minutes went by, she finally felt certain.
There was only one choice.
Chrysalis gave her answer.
Author's Note
I've seen a lot of stories about the freeing of one of the terrible trio lately and I thought I'd give my take on how it would go. I've been meaning to try my hand at writing Chrysalis. I actually really enjoyed writing a narcissist and their struggles with admitting defeat. In many ways this is a spiritual successor/parallel to my other story The End of All Things.
I also read a fantastic book called silence which is where a lot of the themes of this story come from.
I hope people enjoy and please let me know what you think!
