Chrysalis crept down the chimney. Her body moved like a giant drop of oil down the soot-covered bricks, silent, slow, and dark. Sounds echoed up from the empty fireplace below. The clink of porcelain dishes dutifully being stacked, the hushing of candles, servants’ hooves trotting efficiently and quietly in the late hours of Hearth’s Warming Eve. The noise reminded her much of the hive—her drones skittering about in the dark as they rushed about like ants to do her bidding.
Chrysalis thought absolute obedience was the sign of a good leader, and if that was anything to go by, this Filthy Rich stallion sure ran a tight ship. While the rest of Ponyville was polluted with a dense haze of love, the Filthy residence was almost devoid of it.
Not two three ago, the queen of the changelings had stationed herself Ponyville’s town square, specifically in the intensely uncomfortable wooden chair meant for fat stallions with long beards to laugh and crinkle their eyes and promise the good colts and fillies whatever they wanted for Hearth’s Warming Eve. Her disguise was immaculate, all the way down to the kind blue eyes and rosy cheeks. Despite many pony customs eluding her understanding, she managed well enough by repeating whatever the child wanted aloud while shaking them vigorously in her hooves.
Then the love would flow in torrents. Out of the laughing children. Out of the cooing parents. Out of the skinny camerapony paid to take pictures of the laughing children and give them to the cooing parents, who upon seeing the photograph would produce love like a factory smokestack—so much that Chrysalis nearly gagged on it.
It was sickening.
It was free.
And free was what she needed if she was ever going to get revenge on Twilight Sparkle and her band of infuriating friends. Chrysalis ate and ate and ate, so much that her abdomen grew three sizes that night. Enough to double the amount of drones at her new hive. Enough to replace the weak who couldn’t scrounge enough from the surrounding villages to keep themselves going through the winter.
Chrysalis had been ready to buzz off fatly into the night when the last foal settled into her lap. The filly was pink like raw meat, and the street lights reflected sharply off the tiara that sat on her head. She clutched a ragged doll close to her chest that Chrysalis thought was quite hideous. She was like all the other foals that had come before her, save for one detail that caught Chrysalis’ attention.
There wasn’t a shred of love to be found on the girl.
There weren’t emotions, period. The filly was a blank slate. She didn’t even react when her mother trotted up, sharp nose slicing through the slow-falling snow in the air.
Chrysalis recognized authority when she saw it, and the mare positively oozed it, much like herself. Other ponies shrunk away from her, including the skinny camerapony who smiled too much. Fear mingled with love in the air before strangling it. Still, the filly in her lap showed nothing.
The mother and the camerapony began talking. Fear began building. They spoke of nonsense things. Getting pictures done before the drunken college students began caroling down the street. What lighting would be best to highlight her daughter’s face. How to shoot at angles so the thrift store was out of the frame because “ponies on a budget seldom made for good backgrounds.”
And all while the pair argued, the little filly in Chrysalis’ lap stared up at her with those wide, nothing eyes. It made Chrysalis increasingly uncomfortable—the filly’s lack of emotion. She wished for the girl to leave. There was no need to try and milk love from a defective source. They sat for so long that stray snow gathered on their heads like powdered sugar, only staring and studying until the filly motioned for Santa to lend an ear. Chrysalis lowered her head cautiously.
Her voice was so small and delicate that Chrysalis thought it sounded as fragile as the snowflakes that drifted around them. Like one breath could melt her away.
“For Hearth’s Warming, can you take me to live with you in the North Pole? Forever and ever,” she said.
Chrysalis blinked. Her mouth dropped open wordlessly like a fish suffocating in the open air. What was she supposed to say to that? All the other foals merely wished for Power Ranchers or candy or make up—things that served no purpose to anypony. One had even wished for only a hug from his parents, which had the crowd cooing for torturous minutes.
But leaving Ponyville? She’d never heard of such a thing. All ponies were supposed to be happy all the time. What could this child possibly have gone through that would make her want to leave? No matter, it wasn’t her problem, Chrysalis thought.
“Why yes, little filly, you can come live with me and my…elves. We eat candied apples and peppermint cupcakes every day of the year!” Chrysalis jostled the filly like she had with all the others.
The sweet smell of love caught Chrysalis’ nose, and she watched in awe as the filly began to glow with it. The taste of it was like nothing the changeling queen had encountered that night.
And just like that, the defective little foal from Ponyville went from being a problem to a solution. A wonderously devious solution.
“Do you really mean it, Santa?” the little girl asked.
Chrysalis leaned in close. “Of course, dear. Jolly old Santa Hooves never goes back on his word. Just promise me that you won’t tell a soul about this, young missy. Otherwise, I’ll have the whole town wanting to come with me!”
The little filly nodded and drew her hoof across her lips and giggled. The girl’s mother called out from behind the camera.
“Put that toy away, dear. It’s an eyesore. And remember to tilt your head to the left, Diamond. No pictures of that side until we get that mole removed.”
The two posed for the shoot, and for the first time that night, a genuine, wicked smile splayed over Chrysalis’ muzzle.
***
By the time Chrysalis reached the bottom of the chimney, the Filthy residence was almost silent. It reminded her of the hive at night—drones sleeping docile in their pods, nopony to bother her with weak requests for extra love. She would often tour her domain, drinking in all that was hers with a greed that could almost sustain her.
If her plan succeeded, this mansion would belong to her, too. She could almost feel the decadent wood beneath her hooves as she imagined striding through the front door to claim it as her own, followed by an army of her children that would march onwards to take Canterlot itself. Then the rest of Equestria.
All powered by the filly that would become her infinite wellspring of love once Chrysalis snatched her away. For now, she crawled along the ceiling, hooves scuttling quietly over the fine birch logs that smelled like smoke and mistletoe and sap.
She scuttled through doorways that led to all sorts of bizarre and extravagant things. Personal theaters, archery ranges, and aquariums—rooms that were laced with fine gold silk and had fountains in the middle like shrines to forgotten things, rooms full of paintings that hoarded thick layers of dust as if trying to hide, rooms that grew trees with unpicked fruit that ripened and dropped to the grassy floor without anypony to eat them. The house was a decedent, grand creature that had swallowed itself and gotten lost in its own guts. It had every strange thing a pony could want.
It only served to confound Chrysalis more. Why would that filly want to leave?
Voices caught Chrysalis’ attention, muffled and slightly slurred. She followed the noise down another hallway until she found herself in a sprawling library that had too many books for any one pony to read in a lifetime. Two ponies lounged in plush chairs on opposite sides of a table, a single candle between them. Chrysalis recognized one of them as the filly’s mother, Spoiled Rich, meaning the one who was slouched with a glass of eggnog was her husband.
Chrysalis expected more from a partner of a mare like Spoiled. Filthy had a greasy mane and eyes that glinted hard in the light as if he’d been taxidermied. His cheeks blushed red with unapologetic drunkenness. He was a pathetic specimen. A band of love, thin and whispy, waved from his chest towards Spoiled like a grasping limb.
Spoiled, on the other hand, was a hub of love. To Chrysalis’ eyes, it made the mare look like a sea urchin, sharp points extending in all directions as they wrapped themselves firmly around all manner of things in the house. Mirrors with ornate borders, small abstract sculptures, and paintings on the wall of herself lounging on crafted couches and chairs. Her love pointed in every direction but her husband, who was left to sit there idiotically. His words tumbled out of his muzzle like cargo from a capsizing ship.
“Did she make you happy today, love?” Filthy asked. He looked at nothing in particular.
“Silver Tray’s service was adequate at best, but I suppose she shows promise,” Spoiled replied. She sat with her back perfectly aligned with her chair, unmoving.
Filthy shook his head and snorted. “Nooo, no, Lovey-Dove. I meant Diamond. Diamond Tiara. Did she make you happy today?”
“Filthy, please. I thought we came here to relax,” she said.
“Aww, we aaare relaxing!” he said, lifting his drink in a toast to nopony. “But I jus’ wanted to know. No harm in knowing, right?” A smile tried nesting on his muzzle, only to crumble as he took another long sip.
“Dear, when I told you I wanted a foal, I meant it. I never said I wanted to take care of one. I mean, honestly, wanting to go see Santa today? I don’t understand why we haven’t told her already that he isn’t real. It would save us a lot of trouble,” she said.
His love retreated inside himself. Hers only wrapped around more things. Silence reigned for a long time. He looked at Spoiled with an expression that plucked at something inside Chrysalis. An expression that made her catch her breath for only a moment. She couldn’t place that look, but she’d seen it before.
“I’m sorry,” Filthy mumbled.
Spoiled let out a long sigh. “You’re drunk, Filthy. Go to bed.” She blew out the candle before trotting through the door, leaving Filthy to sit in the dark as smoke writhed into the air before disappearing into nothing.
***
Chrysalis found Diamond’s room after following her father as he stumbled through the mansion. He only stared at her door briefly before slowly plodding away, mumbling something about his wife. Chrysalis watched him go until he passed out of her sight, back into the guts of the mansion.
When she was all alone, she descended from the ceiling and breathed slowly as she took on the form of Santa Hooves. Her disguise had to be perfect. The key to her revenge—her domination of Equestria—was just beyond that door. All she had to do was take it. Literally.
With painstaking caution, she turned the handle to the room, the only sound a soft click as the door opened.
Everything was pink.
Pink carpets on pink floors, pink stuffed animals at a pink tea table, pink sheets on a pink bed, pink stuffed animals surrounding a pink filly who breathed softly in her sleep.
Chrysalis approached the side of the bed, sat on her haunches, and placed a hoof on the child’s withers. She shook gently, until those blue eyes fluttered open. The filly smiled. Love poured out of her.
“I knew you’d come. I knew it,” she whispered.
“Of course I did, child,” Chrysalis said. “Now, out of bed. We don’t have much time.”
Diamond slid out from under her covers, tossing her mane out of her eyes. She stuck herself close to Chrysalis’ side as they both made their way towards the door, creeping down the halls and corridors until they reached the final staircase leading to the front entrance. Chrysalis could feel the cold air from outside slip its way through the frosted windows. They were almost there.
“Wait.”
Chrysalis turned to see the filly frozen at the top of the stairs. Her breath hitched in her throat. “Yes, child? What is it?” she asked.
“I left my doll in my mom’s room when she was doing her mane. Ms. Glitterhooves. I—I need her. She’s from my dad,” Diamond said, twisting her hoof into the carpet.
Chrysalis strained a smile. “My dear filly, there’s no need. I’m sure you’ll be fine without her.”
Diamond shook her head. “I’ll be quiet, Santa. Promise.”
“I’m afraid we’ll have to leave without her if we want to make it to the North Pole in time. I’m sorry, I truly am, but that’s just the way it has to be. Now, please do hurry along.”
Diamond Tiara bit her lip, eyes darting between Chrysalis and the hallway they’d just come out of. The filly turned to start heading back the way they came. Chrysalis grabbed her leg, yanking Diamond to her side, glaring down at the child.
“I said no. We don’t need your dolly or anything from this damned house because—”
Whatever words Chrysalis had left to say shriveled up in her muzzle. The look on the girl’s face said it all.
It was the same look Filthy gave Spoiled in the library. Like an abandoned tower one loose brick away from crumbling down into a meaningless pile of stone. It was the same look she’d seen on her children’s faces time and time again when they begged for love that she would not give because a changeling’s heart was never meant to encompass more than its owner. Because Chrysalis had been taught that love was something that could only be stolen—extracted like a butcher selecting a cut of meat to carve out of ponies who were meant to be nothing more than livestock.
What was she to do with this child? Have her drones dress up as elves for the rest of their lives? What kindness had they been taught except the mandatory stiffness to show towards their queen? They would tear this girl apart with the jealousy and viciousness Chrysalis had embedded in them since they were pupas. Chrysalis let Diamond’s leg slip from her hoof.
“We don’t need anything because you’re not going, child. You’re not going to the North Pole,” she said.
Shock, anger, fear. It all hit Chrysalis in an overwhelming barrage of emotion that dizzied her head.
Diamond lunged forward, clinging to her leg as hard as her hooves allowed her to. “No, Santa, I’m sorry. I don’t need her. I’ll—I’ll go. Right now! I don’t need anything from here, please!” Tears sprung from the filly’s eyes, hot and quick.
Chrysalis peeled the child off her, setting Diamond down. “I’m sorry, child. I’m so sorry. It’s much too cold up there for you. You’ll freeze without magic.”
“I’ll wear a jacket. Ten jackets! I don’t care how cold it is.”
“You’ll be all alone. Elves aren’t like normal ponies, child. You’ll have nopony to play with.”
“I’ll have you, Santa!”
“I’ll be much too busy building toys, dear.”
“I’ll learn. I’ll learn so I can help! Please, anywhere is better than here!”
“It—it just wouldn’t be possible. I’m sorry.”
Diamond had reached hysterics, sobbing openly into the large, empty mansion. She ripped herself away from Chrysalis, eyes wild with emotions she wasn’t big enough to handle. Misery pulsed out of her in great, thronging waves. It was an unbearable bitterness that made Chrysalis’ knees shake.
“Why? Why did you lie to me?” Diamond asked. Her voice sounded like shredded butterfly wings falling to the ground.
“I—” Chrysalis began to say until another voice came from somewhere in the mansion.
“Ms. Tiara? It’s much past your bedtime. Where are you, Ms. Tiara?” asked one of the servants.
Diamond turned around, and in that instant, Chrysalis dropped her disguise, allowing her horn to grow to its full length before weaving a spell that snaked through the air and wriggled its way into the filly’s ear.
Her breathing calmed. Her heartbeat slowed. Her emotions ceased. Diamond’s voice was as calm as a summer breeze. “I’m sorry, Ms. Tray. I believe I was having a nightmare. There’s no need to come out. I can find my own way back to my room,” she said.
Chrysalis was out the door before Diamond was finished speaking.
A lone tear marred the smooth chitin under her eye before it dropped off her face, joining the endless snow that fell around her.
