Apart from a few diminutive ripples, the water was still; mirror-like, even. The golden glow of the early morning sun kissed the mountain lake’s tranquil surface, shimmering light dancing about with reckless abandon. Some of it was cast onto the underside of a humble wooden canoe, half-docked on the lake’s edge.The boat had seen better days, no doubt, but for its intended purpose of the day, its quality would suffice.

Anon sat at the shore-end of the vessel, and as he unwound his second-hand anchoring rope from the damp log it was wrapped around, he wondered what he would catch, if anything at all.

Free of its constraint, the canoe began to move, but only just so - the landbound half still struggled to do anything but wiggle around. He tossed the rope aboard and used his free hand to give the earth a decent nudge, gently launching the craft on a course for the lake’s center. It rocked ever so slightly, sending stronger ripples cascading out, fated to fade before they reached the shore.

Rather than row out to his destination, Anon elected to drift for a time, his gaze wandering about. Though his thoughts had been plagued by worry for the last day and a half, he felt it all melting away the longer he floated along. How long had it been since he’d actually been out on the water like this? Not since arriving in Equestria, that much was certain.

A nearby mourning dove sang out in agreement.

Anon shut his eyes, content to soak in the sunlight, his skin expanding microscopically under the summer haze. Despite everything that had been going on, he began to feel a welling in the core of his stomach, one that seemed to alleviate the natural tension throughout his body. He began to feel…

Content.

At the opposite end of the canoe, though, a weight shifted, heaving a sigh into the otherwise serene air.

“Does your lesson plan involve wasting precious time?” Chrysalis asked as her minute movements rocked the boat.

Anon’s brow sank, but he refused to dignify her attitude with so much as a glance in her direction.

“No, but I could work that in,” he quipped back.

She guffawed, a singular bark of a laugh roaring past her fangs.

“I fail to see how milling about a lake on a piece of driftwood is anything but a waste of time.”

Anon eyed the distance to the center, ignoring her complaint. From the floor of the boat, he fetched his fishing pole and laid it across his lap. He wrested the hook from its holding loop with one hand, glancing up at her as he did so.

“What, you don’t think nature can be enriching?”

“Under different circumstances, perhaps,” she said. “It’s rather difficult to glean anything of worth with you across from me, doing…”

She eyed Anon’s rod up and down, confusion deepening as she combed over its form.

“…What exactly is it that you’re doing, again?”

Anon finished baiting his hook and stood the implement upright in his lap.

“Fishing.”

She met Anon’s eyes, confusion mixed with untold amounts of frustration. A small, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at his lips.

“…Do you not-”

“I know what fishing is, dolt,” she interrupted. “Why do you need that crude-looking implement? Are your kind not skilled enough to catch them without it?”

“We are, but this is easier.”

With a freshly baited hook, Anon cast his line far out into the waters.

“In a way, it’s kinda like how changelings feed. Why go through all that effort when a disguise - the bait - works better?”

Chrysalis broke eye contact and scoffed, slumping over and lying down.

“Your gross generalization barely scratches the surface of what our hunts require of us.”

He shrugged his shoulders, leaning back in his own seat.

“My point still stands.”

“Your poor comparison says otherwise.”

The relative neutrality of Anon’s countenance cracked. A deep irritation welled within the recesses of his gut, one that he only just barely staved off. Escalating would do nothing but give her exactly what she wanted. As much as he would’ve loved nothing more than a verbal back-and-forth with the queen of attitude, his commitment to the cause required him to hold off.

So, with great difficulty, he softened his features and said nothing in return.

As more of the line gradually sunk into the murky depths of the lake, an overbearing silence draped its fragile arms over the canoe. Amid the tacit waters, though, Anon’s mind raced.

Four hours ago…

The echo of hooves and shoes upon marble filled Anon’s ears, drowning out the comparatively wispy voices of the meandering gentry. As empty as Canterlot Castle’s throne room was on Sundays, it still had its fair share of kowtowers galavanting around the place, all pinning their hopes on having even a second with one of the royal sisters.

Kowtowers who, as Anon passed by, reduced their frivolous murmurs into hushed whispers. Their accompanying glares were honest attempts to level him; how could he, who cavorted with the dreaded queen of Changelings, dare step foot in their most sacred of dwellings? Their indignation would only last for as long as he didn’t return their stares with his own barely restrained scowl, however, at which point they would avert their piercing eyes elsewhere.

The myriad of judgemental onlookers ground Anon’s gears into metal shavings. ‘Vagrants,’ he thought.

“I’m so sorry, Anon,” Twilight said, looking up at him. “I knew ponies were gossiping, but this is just…”

Her words trailed off, unsure of what to say. Anon sighed loudly into the charged air.

“S’alright,” he said, disenchanted. “Not like their opinion of me matters, anyhow.”

Twilight’s sympathetic gaze left Anon’s features, combing her immediate surroundings for some abstract wisdom that might soothe him in some capacity.

“…I’ll make it up to you,” she said, coming up short. “I promise.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it. How they’re acting isn’t your fault.”

“In a way, it is.”

“Sure, but that was an honest mistake. I’m not gonna hold that against you.”

“Still.”

Anon paused, his eyebrow raised as he looked upon her demure expression.

“You know what? I just thought of something you can do to help me feel better.”

Twilight looked back up at him, hopeful.

“What’s that?”

“Be my friend. Oh, wait, you already are.”

As much as she fought it, his request brought a goofy grin to her lips. She hooved his side, ever so slightly pushing him to the left.

“Anon, I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” he replied in sincerity. “Seriously, don’t worry about it.”

Twilight hummed her appreciation aloud. As they crossed to the rear of the throne room, however, she found that she simply couldn’t relent.

“…Are you sure?” she asked. “It could be something small, if you wanted. Maybe lunch somewhere?”

Anon held his hand up to stop her, shaking his head.

“Helping me with the house is enough, Twiggles.”

“I know, but I wanted to have…”

Her sentence cut itself short as she eyed Anon incredulously.

“Twiggles?” she parroted, as if hearing it the first time wasn’t enough for it to properly register.

Anon laughed aloud, further silencing his onlookers.

“Yeah, sorry, that one was bad.”

Twilight joined him with her own reserved giggle.

“No, no, it’s just - how did you even come up with that?”

Anon shrugged as they approached a set of double-doors leading further into the castle, two guards - a pegasi and a unicorn - stoically blocking the way.

“Phonetics, I guess.”

She shook her head.

“What am I going to do with you?”

“Apparently, put me in charge of supervillain rehab.”

As the two closed in on the entryway, the guards stepped aside, repositioning to be parallel with the wall. The unicorn, with effortless grace that only decades of service brings, lit his horn with a brilliant blue aura and threw the doors wide. They both saluted her as the odd duo passed, the former’s armor plates clattering as they did so. Twilight nodded in respect as both herself and Anon passed through the threshold, and after a few steps inward, the doors shut behind them. The dull roar of the throne room was replaced with sterile silence, broken only by their rhythmic march forward into the labyrinthine inner halls.

“Wish I was a princess,” Anon said, volume lowered to match his surroundings.

“Wanna swap places?” Twilight asked in jest. “I’m sure you’d be great with all the paperwork.”

“…Yeah, nope, you can have that.”

“I thought so.”

A brisk walk later…

A gilded archway, flowered vines creeping all the way up its pillars and spilling into the hallway itself, shone the way out. Amateur artists the world around would be put to shame by its natural framing of the cherubic greenery outside, a painting come to life.

As Twilight and Anon traipsed into the living work of art, the wind swelled, blowing their hair about this way and that. The breeze played its usual song on the myriad trees scattered about, hitting every note with the skill of the world’s longest practiced musician. Birdsong leapt at them from seemingly everywhere, a barely restrained greeting for the guests of the hour. Twilight carried on without fanfare, having essentially grown up in the castle, but Anon paused for a moment.

He’d only been once or twice, and neither outing had led him to where he now stood. Though it was only a fraction of what the gardens held in store, he still drank it all in.

“Anon?” Twilight called out.

Ripped from near-euphoria, he locked eyes with her. She idly tapped her hoof along the beginning of a cobblestone path, flanked on both sides by human hip-high shrubs, exotic flora affixed and bobbing up and down in a wave pattern the farther they went on.

“I don’t mean to rush you, but we really shouldn’t be late for this meeting,” she continued, a bit bashful about having to remind him.

Anon chortled as he left the veranda to join her side.

“She’d put the world on hold for you.”

“I’d hope not!” she replies, almost offended. “Her duty to Equestria comes before anything, she’s said as much herself.”

Anon didn’t reply immediately. Twilight’s naïveté, in spite of her vast intellect, was sometimes staggering.

“I believe you, Twi.”

The end of the hedge-line path blossomed into a sizable courtyard, packed to the brim with otherworldly flower arrangements and displays. Strangely enough, none of them had any plaques with information about what was actually on display.

Stone statues were dotted about in tasteful locations, usually near vine-covered arches or sitting areas. Bush sculptures and immaculate hedge trimming acted as structure for the large space, intentionally directing focus in a way that led passers by on a path of sorts.

Deeper into the greenery they went, though, and before long, they happened upon a small clearing.

At its center was a simple stone bench, unassuming in both size and craftsmanship. Across from it was an empty stone pedestal. Same as everything else, no plaque could be found anywhere on it. Anon thought it an odd thing to feature, but brushed the feeling aside to focus on the bench’s occupant.

Coat white as freshly laid snow.

Pastel mixtures of green, blue, and pink all waving orderly in a wind only she could feel.

Sunlight glinting off of a golden peytral.

Wings slightly spread, catching the breeze.

Lavender eyes fixated on a passing cloud.

A smile that had been there before he was born, and would be there long after he was gone.

“Princess Celestia!” Twilight called out, unfolding her full wingspan in excitement.

Celestia’s gaze flicked in their direction, focusing first on Twilight, and then on Anon. Her already-present grin widened as she departed from her seat and turned to face the both of them fully.

“It’s always a pleasure to see you well, Twilight,” she said as she ambled over, her movements almost ethereal in their grace.

Twilight took off from Anon’s side, meeting her mentor halfway in a rather heartwarming embrace. Stood there awkwardly, he wasn’t quite sure whether he should bow or just keep waiting. After a few moments, though, Celestia lifted her head from Twilight’s withers, holding Anon’s eyes as the hug broke off.

“It’s a pleasant surprise to see you as well, Anonymous! How have things been for you?”

A genuine grin supplanted his awkward neutrality.

“A bit hectic,” Anon replied, letting go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “But I can sleep in my own house again, so it’s not all that bad.”

“I heard about that,” she said, almost penitent. “I can’t help but feel somewhat responsible, having not assumed that Chrysalis would be able to gather another hive to launch an offensive.”

Anon shook his head, in mild disbelief that she of all people would apologize.

“Ah, you’ve got nothing to feel bad about. I mean, you didn’t blast my house with lasers, did you?”

He redirected his focus to Twilight, an enigmatic smile on his lips. She did everything she could to avert his gaze, a bashful red hue on her cheeks. Celestia giggled at their playful banter, her voice joining the garden’s symphony of sounds.

“That, I did not.”

She beckoned the both of them forth with a wave of her hoof, another bench just to her left.

“Make yourselves comfortable, you two.”

They wasted no time following her suggestion, Twilight taking the spot closest to her mentor.

“Did you have time to read the brief I wrote about yesterday?” she asked, removing her dual tote bags from her withers.

“I did,” Celestia replied. “For being specialized in subterfuge, Chrysalis is quite skilled at causing a commotion, isn’t she?”

Fresh memories of the incident crawled to the forefront of Anon’s mind. One moment in particular repeated ceaselessly in his head - the moment he made eye contact with the panicking crowd.

Big and small, young and old, it didn’t matter; the instant the overgrown insect reared its ugly head in his shop, their terror had become indiscriminate, extending to him as well. It weighed heavily on his mind, dragging the middle of his brow downward. He wondered why he cared so much; for someone so disenchanted with outsider opinions, the resulting gossip stung quite cruelly.

“Sure is,” he said dejectedly before returning to a more neutral tone. “That was probably my fault, though. I should’ve just kept her in the back.”

“It goes a bit farther back than that,” Twilight interjected. “I should have overseen her myself yesterday, or at least stayed with you during the festival.”

“I’m not so sure either approach would have helped,” Celestia said thoughtfully. “Her behavior during her earlier lessons indicates as much. It’s as if she revels in derailing our attempts to show her the error of her ways…”

Celestia rested her eyes on the empty pedestal, a surprising lack of frustration in her words. Amid a few moments of tender quiet that took hold of the conversation, Twilight fetched a few scrolls from her tote.

“Well, that sort of thing was what she was all about, right?” Anon said, cutting through the silence.

Celestia focused on him once more, her gaze willing him to extrapolate.

“I mean, I don’t know much about her, but it feels like she’s been doing this sort of thing her whole life. It could be that’s all she knows.”

He held his hands up in mock surrender for a split second.

“You guys know her better than I do, though, so… you know. I don’t really know what I’m talking about.”

“You actually know her about as well as we do,” Twilight said as she straightened out her parchment. “Maybe more, judging by your conversations with her during the festival.”

“We barely even talked to each other, though,” Anon replied, his face contorted in skepticism.

“Believe it or not, she still shared more than she’s ever been willing to with us or her other tutors.”

“Indeed,” Celestia agreed, her tone implacable. “The most others have managed to get from her are short replies and silent, begrudging compliance.”

Twilight perked up as she finished checking over her scrolls, hopping off of the bench to hand them to her mentor.

“That’s actually why I brought Anon along with me today, Princess,” she began, tail swishing with enthusiasm. “Given yesterday’s findings, I’m planning to put a new, specialized team together to strengthen our efforts toward Chrysalis’s reformation. I believe that if said team is composed of ponies with unique backgrounds and consequently unique mindsets, we might be able to replicate the effect that Anon had on her on a more consistent basis. The specifics of how the team would operate are detailed in those scrolls.”

Celestia pored over the documents for a few moments before pointing a subdued smile in Twilight’s direction.

“I agree wholeheartedly with your plan of action, Twilight,” she said before switching her gaze over to Anon. “I assume that you’re to play a role in said team?”

Anon leaned forward and planted his elbows onto his knees.

“You know it,” he breathed, an imperceptible hint of dread on his tongue.

“The specific titles and roles everypony will hold will be ironed out once we have a few more members,” Twilight explained further. “Right now, though, I’m confident that Anon will be a team leader.”

Anon’s eyes came to rest on his close friend, surprised at her commendation. Prior to then, they hadn’t spoken about his specific role in her team, only that he’d be a part of it. In all honesty, he’d hoped to have something minimal; something like a substitute role, where he’d fill in for whoever was sick, or something along those lines. The less he had to deal with Chrysalis, the better. All he really wanted was his house fixed, and after that, he’d be done.

There he was, though, a newly minted team lead. Directly responsible for turning the former queen away from a life of villainy, which he was already hesitant about at best. He loathed the thought, and almost tried to worm his way out of it right then and there, but he paused just as he went to open his mouth.

Twilight wasn’t just smiling at him; no, she was beaming, pearly whites and all. Her focus darted back and forth between both of his eyes, searching every crack and pore of his face for an inevitable reaction beyond bewilderment. She was, quite plainly, proud of her decision to appoint him. Him, who lacked any credentials, and had no experience with rehabilitation.

Just someone who happened to be in the wrong place at the right time.

…

He mirrored her merriment, his own crooked grin pointed right back at her.

‘That’s it,’ he thought. ‘She’s how you’ll get through this.’

He wouldn’t be helping Chrysalis, no - he’d be helping Twilight. Though his task still appalled him, he felt some solace knowing he would be of some use to her.

A pang of guilt wracked Anon’s chest - how could he need so much convincing, even after the deal they struck together?

“In that case,” Celestia began, “I’ll have an identification card made for you so that you can access the castle as you please, Anon.”

“Don’t I need, like, a background check first or something?” he asked.

Celestia chuckled, batting his concerns away with a hoof.

“That won’t be necessary. As a close friend of Twilight’s, you’re welcome to peruse almost anywhere. There are a few off-limits areas, but you’ll know them when you see them.”

He nodded, sight planted firmly on the grass as he went over his admittedly small list of questions.

“Do I need to move here, where she’s kept?”

“Only temporarily,” Twilight replied. “Just until we can get a few more ponies on board.”

Anon inwardly groaned, but stopped short of frustration taking hold. As much as a temporary move annoyed him to no end, he realized he’d be staying in the castle.

In Canterlot Castle.

Five star meals every day, amenities most people only dream of, a room with a view… Plus, it would give the construction crew more time to work on the repairs to his house.

“Sweet.”

“Have you fielded any additional members yet?” Celestia asked.

“Not yet, but I’m compiling a list,” Twilight said, her tone having sobered a bit. “It’s only prospective right now, but I’ll work on it whenever I’m not busy with Chrysalis.”

“It may be in your best interest to expedite its completion,” Celestia said grimly. “There are those within the noble houses who would sooner see her suffer more dire fates than wait for rehabilitation.”

Anon couldn't rightly say he’d have blamed them; snooty nobles though they may have been, he was committed to their shared manner of thinking only a few hours ago.

Twilight nodded, more down-to-earth than before.

“Understood, Princess.”

She cleared her throat, glancing to and fro.

“Do you mind if I excuse myself for a moment?” she asked, awkwardly giggling. “I had a bit too much lemonade on the train ride here.”

“Of course, Twilight,” Celestia replied. “Take your time.”

“Thank you!”

Without much fanfare, she scooted off of her seat and trotted away into the garden, strolling out of sight only a few moments later.

The pressure of a timid silence fell upon Anon’s shoulders as soon as she rounded the corner. The last thing he wanted to do was bore the princess with meaningless small talk, but apart from Twilight’s project, his life wasn’t exactly exciting.

Mercifully, she seemed to pick up on his sheepish pause.

“It brings me great joy to see her so passionate about Chrysalis’s reformation,” she mused, her nostalgic gaze locked onto where Twilight had disappeared.

Anon’s smile returned, a crooked thing, as he recalled how animated she was when she initially described her overarching plans to him.

“She’s certainly inspiring, that’s for sure,” he responded, propping his chin up on his hand, his elbow still leveraged against his knee.

Celestia hummed her approval.

“You’re still quite apprehensive about reforming Chrysalis, I assume?” she asked, her calm eyes now locked onto Anon.

He attempted to hide his surprise, but in doing so, only ended up further emulating a deer in headlights. He sat up straighter and let his arms fall into his lap, cautiously holding his eyes to hers.

“What do you mean?” he asked, unable to drum up any other reply.

“There’s no need to be ashamed, Anon,” she reassured with a warm smile. “Your harsher feelings are perfectly reasonable, considering the circumstances.”

All he could do was blink. He thought it quite odd - observing from afar, she seemed the ordinary mare, but the weight of her presence at that point in time felt otherwise. Perhaps it was simply a matter of nerves getting the better of him?

“How did you…?”

“It was plain as day, even in the few words you’ve spoken about her thus far,” she said, searching his features as she spoke.

His face began to heat up in embarrassment. Was he really that easy to read?

Every word he might’ve offered up in some form of coherent response died in his throat, forgotten as soon as they were thought of. Luckily, after a few tense moments for Anon, Celestia’s gaze softened once more, making way for a throaty chuckle.

“I’m only kidding, of course. Twilight included it in her report.”

Anon’s heart descended from his throat, finally allowing him the privilege of swallowing.

“Though, I am curious,” she continued. “Given that you hold Chrysalis in such low regard, what compelled you to help her reform?”

“Well, the, uh…” Anon began, trying his hardest to relax. “The promise of my house being rebuilt in exchange definitely helped. I know that sounds shallow, but it really did work.”

“Oh, I’ve no doubt about that,” she said, her expression having fallen into calm neutrality. “But is that truly the only reason?”

She turned in her seat to fully face him.

“I combed through the itemized records of the damage done to Ponyville; I’m aware of what you lost during her attempted invasion.”

Anon’s mouth hangs only slightly open, attention held by Celestia’s weighty gaze, morphed by empathy.

‘Did she look through my…?’ Anon thought, disbelief coiling around his heart. The sparks of indignation felt in his chest were quickly snuffed out, though, when he remembered that he willingly reported all of his damages in that itemized list - including his personal belongings.

Which included everything in that box.

“I apologize, by the way,” she continued in a quiet, almost respectful tone. “I didn’t intend on intruding into your personal business; I was simply reading over the records to organize the reconstruction efforts, and it caught my eye.”

“It’s… alright,” he said, both words a struggle as he fixated on a random shrub off in the distance. “But, um… you wanted to know why I’m helping, right?”

Celestia nodded her head, her eyes refusing to leave his person. A haggard sigh freed itself from the deepest pit of Anon’s lungs, mingling with the open air for the first time in years.

“It’s the same thing I said to Chrysalis. I don’t think she can do it, I don’t think she wants to do it, but…”

Anon met Celestia’s eyes out of the corner of his.

“I’m forcing myself to trust Twilight more than I do my doubts. She’s a better person than I’ve ever been or will be, you know? I want to trust her. I want to believe that she’s right, that anyone can come back from those depths.”

He shuffles his feet as his eyes meet the floor.

“Maybe it’s something more than that, but I don’t know. I’m not emotionally intelligent enough to pick myself apart.”

Celestia studied him for a few moments, seemingly measuring the weight of his words, before the corners of her lips curled upward into a gentle grin.

“While I don’t quite agree with that last point you made, I’m glad that you’ve decided to give our cause a chance,” Celestia beamed, her smile having spread ear to ear. “And I’m sure Twilight would be overjoyed to know of your confidence in her.”

Anon nodded, an unsteady smirk on his lips.

“She’s really something else,” he said, almost wistful. “I just hope I can keep up with her. The whole ‘team lead’ thing has me freaked out; honestly, I don’t think I want to be in that spot.”

“I didn’t either, funnily enough,” Celestia admitted roundly.

He met her regard once more, two sets of eyes locked in a delicate dance. Words formed on his tongue, but died there just the same.

‘…Just a mare.’

Before either of them could break the tender silence, a white-hot flash of magic manifested a scroll in front of Celestia. It fell out of its suspension not even an inch before Celestia grasped it in her tranquil aura, just as nonplussed as Anon was.

“I wasn’t expecting any direct mail this afternoon,” she mused, an eyebrow hiked up in curiosity. “Pardon me for a moment, if you will.”

“Oh, yeah, no worries,” Anon replied, returning to a more relaxed posture in his seat.

Her eyes scanned the parchment with practiced focus that jumped from line to line at breakneck pace. She hummed aloud when she finished, a microcosm of disappointment ever so slightly tightening the muscles in her temple.

“It seems as though Chrysalis might be stuck in her cell today,” she breathed as she rolled up the parchment. “Her tutor has fallen ill, the poor mare.”

“Shoot. Is she okay?”

“Thankfully, she only has a fever,” she replied. “Nothing that a few days of rest and relaxation can’t fix. Though, in the meantime, that does present us with the challenge of what to do with our student.”

Anon’s chest tightened like a vice. Although Celestia didn’t explicitly voice her solution, he knew exactly what she was implying. There was no time to ruminate on it, either, much to his dismay; the longer he waited to offer help, the more disingenuous it would appear.

And he was there to help, wasn’t he?

“Do you need me to take over?” he asked, swallowing his discontent as best he could.

Whether or not her surprise was feigned was anyone’s guess - she’d been at that game for far longer than Anon had been.

“You wouldn’t mind filling in on such short notice?”

“I mean, I already got all my groceries earlier, so sure. I don’t have a lesson plan yet, though, so I don’t really…”

He tapered off as his mind scoured memories at a million miles a minute. He’d only been up here one or two times prior, but if he remembered correctly…

“Isn’t there a lake on the other side of the castle?”

Celestia said nothing, only flashing a colorful grin his way.

The line pulled taut, jolting Anon from his rumination. He pinched the reel between his index finger and thumb before it spun away from him, wrapping the rest of his hand around it to ascertain a better grip. The canoe rocked slightly as he aligned himself in the direction of the tugging, breaking Chrysalis from her own meditations.

“Took you long enough,” she jabbed, casting a patronizing sneer Anon’s way. “Your efficacy as a predator leaves much to be desired.”

Her smart remark bore no effect on his focus. The frenzied clicks of the reel being spun backward were all that registered, all that mattered in the moment.

Whatever was on the hook, it wasn’t too big, judging from how easily he could maneuver the rod. In another life, he might’ve cared about the size of his catches, but there, on that mountain, he was content in settling for anything at all.

Before long, his quarry broke the surface, shattering the glass-like surface of the lake in a flourish of splashes and ripples. He left the line at about half the length of the rod as he pulled it in, catching the fish in his firm grip as he looked it over. The sizable thing was roughly six inches in length, maybe a bit more. Its amber scales caught the sunlight amicably, and if he angled it just right, it almost looked as if it were glowing itself. Its mouth pulsed rhythmically as he held the Equestrian Sunfish in his hand, smoothing its yellow dorsal spines over with his thumb.

“Not bad for the first of the day,” he mused aloud.

“You consider that diminutive thing to be satisfactory?” Chrysalis asked, barely stopping herself from cackling.

Anon vocalized his irritation under the guise of clearing his throat.

“Moreso the fact that I’m out here doing this at all.”

She rolled her eyes, looking out to shore.

“Is that supposed to be my lesson for today? How trite.”

Anon, inwardly passing his anger on to the hapless little fish, tossed it back out into the lake once he freed the hook from its mouth.

“Nah.”

She shot him a scathing glare that threatened to bore a hole into his head.

“What, then? Don’t tell me this nonsensical excursion was intended to teach me about patience.”

Anon paused for a moment as he laid the rod down beside him. He could have acted like there was something that he was overtly trying to impart upon her, sure, but he saw little point in maintaining that illusion for the time being - and if it served to intrigue her further, then all the better for Twilight’s cause.

“There’s no lesson for today,” he deadpanned. “Your other tutor called out sick, and I was on standby.”

“So this is a waste of my time,” she exclaimed, scaring off a few ducks who had happened to swim by.

“Oh, come off it. You’re telling me you’d have rather sat alone in your windowless cell than be out here?”

“Yes!”

The guards lining the shore from where they had launched all turned to face the thunderous noise, not a few of them shaken by her anger.

Anon, meanwhile, dropped his facial facade. A deep scowl overtook his previous impartiality, glowering at his unruly passenger.

“If you’ve nothing to ‘teach’ me,” she nagged, “then bring us back ashore at once. I refuse to suffer any more of this-”

“You don’t get what’s going on, do you?”

Chrysalis’s eyes became daggers, her belligerence deepening.

“Watch your t-”

“No, really,” Anon interrupted again. “Have you ever even considered why Twilight and Celestia are going through all of this effort to help you?”

“What does it matter?” she asked, volume once again rising. “That they’d be so foolish with their trust speaks volumes on its own.”

And there it was. Her true intentions, revealed so carelessly in the throes of anger.

Anon could feel a vein threatening to burst from beneath his flush skin.

“You’re going to be turned to stone, Chrysalis.”

Those seven words leveled her outrage almost totally.

“…You lie,” she nearly growled.

Anon guffawed in disbelief.

“What, did you think the nobility wasn’t going to try to sink their teeth into you eventually?”

Chrysalis remained stunned in silence, eyes darting here and there in an attempt to parse the disconcerting revelation. Anon, finally pushed to exasperation, wasn’t intent on waiting for her to gather her thoughts.

“The upper crust is almost entirely in agreement that they want you indefinitely turned to stone, and before long, they’re gonna have enough backing to force Celestia’s hand. The only reason you aren’t essentially braindead on a pedestal in the royal gardens right now is us.”

Another pregnant pause held the two of them in its choking grasp. Vexation had been all but drained from Chrysalis, and in its place was an uncharacteristic meekness that held her stock-still.

“My hive…” she muttered. “What will become of them, if I’m sentenced?”

“The new one?” Anon asked. “Either way this plays out, they’ll be welcomed into your old hive, if they’re willing to readjust as functioning members of society. Twilight’s trying to offer you the same courtesy.”

Chrysalis continued staring headlong into the bottom of the canoe, periodically remembering to blink or swallow. Her inner conflict waged war just below the surface, contorting her facial features and clamming up her chitin; as much as she claimed to loathe her old hive, they were her only chance at salvation.

“Why wasn't I informed of all of this until now?”

“Because it needs to be genuine.”

She regained eye contact with him, a smidge more focused than she was a moment ago.

“…So why did you tell me?”

Anon pressed his lips together tightly. Uneasy questions beget uneasy answers - or rather, no answers at all.

“…I don’t know. Just be thankful I’m indebted to Twilight.”

He swept up both oars in his hands and angled them out before lowering them into the water. He began to row steadily back to shore, breath hitching with each stroke as he put in a solid effort to gain a relaxed speed.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Chrysalis asked flatly, the sudden movement having spurred her to begin collecting herself. “Where are we going?”

“Back to your cell,” Anon replied in between strokes. “Isn’t that what you asked for?”

She could only blink in response, several seconds passing before she found her voice again.

“…I suppose it is.”

Author's Note

hello again