On Redemption

Five days later…

The streets of Canterlot lay bare to the torrential summer rain, shimmering streams of water racing through the cracks in the cobblestone roads.

Most ponies had already retreated to the sanctity of the indoors long before the errant storm had arrived, but some were stuck in the downpour, drenched manes and frazzled coats dashing about every which way, desperate for reprieve. Anon belonged to the former group, blissfully ignorant of the raging monsoon outside as he unpacked his belongings. Even as the gentle pitter-patter of raindrops on glass turned into an unbroken dull roar, he paid it no mind, for if he didn’t put his things away in their proper places right then and there, he might have never put them away at all, instead opting to lounge atop his silken-sheeted bed; such was the level of comfort his new, luxurious lodgings afforded him.

Though he opted not to transport every amenity from his home to the suite, the decidedly diminished space he had to work with made it seem the opposite. His thoughts raced to blame any one particular item he could’ve left behind, but in the end, the inconvenience was brought about by a conglomerate of things - his coffee maker, for instance. He knew full well that only a few flights of stairs away was an immaculate cup of joe, achieved by some newfangled contraption that looked more like a science experiment than a brewery. He might’ve yet used it, curious as he was about coffee siphoned by a vacuum, or however the process went. Such a thing seemed like an occasion to him, though, not a replacement for his trusty pour-over glass. Given that he wasn’t sure how long his stay would be, it remained a necessity, along with his own, personal coffee beans.

Much the same could be said about the rest of what he brought along with him. More kitchenware, books, a plethora of records, his music box - most of which could double as a tool for an impromptu friendship lesson, should the need arise.

Not that he was at all qualified to dole them out as such - it was more so that Twilight would know he was at least making an effort to sway the changeling queen’s begrudgingly stubborn attitude.

He hadn’t seen her since that day on the lake.

Shortly after coming ashore, he handed her off to the guards waiting on the banks, who thanked him and began escorting her back to her cell posthaste. Even as they enclosed her in a ring formation, she kept that same nonplussed stare from before, pointed at nowhere in particular. His admission of the nature of her impending punishment had clearly sat heavily on her mind, if her lack of protests were anything to go by.

How much of that was an act, though, he didn’t know for sure. He refused to harbor anything resembling hope when it came to her, but he openly wondered whether it was enough for her to simmer down and think things through for once.

As he strung the last of his shirts up on another of the most strikingly ornate coat hangers he had ever seen, a timid knocking rang thrice against his front door, ever so slightly rattling the privacy slab in front of the peephole.

“Come in!” he called out, shutting the closet doors to keep his hanging wardrobe out of sight.

The deadbolt was quickly pulled free of its latch, a resounding click ringing out as the straight-line handle quickly plunged and turned clockwise until it was pointing at the tiled floor. The door careened open, not a single whine of ill-oiled hinges to be found, until it revealed a snowy-white maid pony waiting diligently just past the threshold.

Subtle thrums of magic being cast fizzled out as the door came to a stop, the pale blue mana surrounding her horn having dissipated into complete transparency. She peeked out at him from underneath the frazzled bangs of her caramel bob, eyeing him carefully; while she didn’t appear bothered, she was still undoubtedly on edge.

“Good afternoon, Mister Anonymous,” she said with practiced professionalism. “Princess Twilight requests your presence in the eastern wing’s dining hall.”

He glanced at the clock - six in the evening. The absolute erasure of time by way of the summer storm befuddled him; in his mind’s eye, he had arrived only an hour ago, not four. Even so, he was beginning to grow peckish, so he stowed his complaints for the moment.

“Thank you, miss…?”

“Hymn,” she replied. “Elegant Hymn.”

He nodded, inwardly thankful he had never taken off his shoes.

“Would you mind showing me the way? I’ll probably get lost otherwise.”

“Of course,” she replied, enthusiasm noticeably forced. “Right this way.”

She stepped out of the immediate doorway, allowing Anon room to comfortably maneuver out into the hall. The door fell closed on its own with a sharp thud as they began making their way through the castle’s halls.

An uncomfortable silence draped itself over the pair, broken only by the classy echo of hooves and shoes on pure marble. Though he pretended to be ignorant of it, Anon caught her sneaking glances at him out of the corner of her eye, only nanoseconds in length each time.

It was amusing for a couple of hallways, but after a while, Anon began to sense the apprehension, the tension behind her little game.

“You look like you’ve got something on your mind,” he said sternly.

She seemed jolted by his sudden bridging of the verbal gap, eyes wide as she held his weighty gaze.

“What do you mean?” she asked, her collected facade subtly cracking.

“If you’re curious about something, just ask,” he explained, facing forward again. “Staring is rude, you know.”

She looked him up and down for a moment, weighing the worth of her question before giving it form.

“Are you and Chrysalis really working together…?” she asked, hesitant to part with every single word.

Anon frowned.

“Not in the sense that you mean, I think. What’ve they been saying?”

She didn’t need to ask who he meant - the lower aristocracy were known for that sort of tittle-tattle.

“They’ve, um… They say she c-corrupted you, and that you’re doing her bidding to help her escape.”

Anon’s eyebrows skyrocketed, an incredulous grin forcing its way onto his lips.

‘Well, that explains why she’s acting like that,’ he thought.

He could’ve put the reprehensible rumors to bed right then and there, at least with her - he was certainly in his right mind to do so. For some reason unbeknownst to him at the time, though, he held off a moment.

“Do you believe them?”

His tone was flat, only rising a note or two on the final word. Her eyes flitted about the room, his answer having done nothing to bolster her courage. If she had hands, she might’ve fidgeted with them.

“I-I don’t know,” she finally muttered, daring to look back up at him. “I… don’t really know you.”

A return to silence - surely nauseating for her - occurred at Anon’s behest. Twist after turn, hallway after hallway, he sat on his words. Myriad gazes passed over them, not a few scornful sets of eyes lingering on Anon’s back as they passed.

Even so, he ruminated.

The maid slightly to his front didn’t seem like one of their ilk, just… Unsure.

And there was no faulting someone for that, was there?

“Princess Twilight is coordinating an effort to have her honestly rehabilitated,” he explained, his tone considerably more lenient. “What happened at the Summer Sun Festival was an off-the-cuff test run. So, no, I’m not cavorting with Queen Grumpy.”

To his relief, she giggled quietly.

“I’ve never heard anypony call her that before.”

“More people should, it would probably knock her ego down a peg.”

The ghost of a smile she held blossomed into a proper grin. It wasn’t anything overly gleeful, and her guard was still very obviously up, but nonetheless, it was genuine.

“I’m sorry I was distrustful,” she said. “Normally, I don’t pay any mind to gossip around the castle, but some of the nobleponies can be pretty convincing.”

“It’s alright,” Anon replied, casually waving her apology off. “I mean, I don’t blame you for running with it. She did scare everybody off that day, so…”

“Well, in any case, I’m glad you’re not secretly an evil henchpony.”

“Ha! Me too.”

The rest of the walk continued in a far more palatable silence than before. At last, though, they rounded the final corner, coming upon a set of ornate double doors flanked by marble pillars on each side.

Elegant Hymn stopped just shy of the leftmost pillar, turning to face him fully.

“Here we are,” she proclaimed, a hoof outstretched to present the entryway.

Anon offered up as warm a grin as he could muster and threw a courteous nod her way.

“Thanks again, Miss Hymn. See you around.”

“Likewise, Mister Anonymous. Take care.”

With a polite nod and a curated smile of her own, she was off, walking gingerly into the maze once more. Given how large the castle was, and how many ponies were employed here, he’d more than likely never see her again. Even so, planting the seed of his innocence was a weight lifted off of his shoulders. With any luck, she’d talk to her fellow staff, and the truth would spread from there on outward.

Not one to waste time when it came to matters of the stomach, though, Anon spun on his heels, eagerly facing the gilded set of double doors with a grumbling belly. Of course, Twilight’s reasoning for calling him there could have been purely business…

…but he could hardly imagine such cruelty borne at her hooves. With gusto, he swung wide the doors, traipsing over the threshold as he did so.

A nearly-empty room the size of a cathedral greeted him, barren tables lined all the way to the rear window-laden wall in rows of three. All but one - the very last table in the middle row, furthest from the door. Two individuals sat across from each other, full plates in front of them, both heads turned to witness his spectacularly ordinary arrival.

Twilight, the one sat closest to him, beamed from across the room, her pearly whites on full display as he returned the gesture in kind.

“Anon!” she called out, waving him over with glee.

He obliged, crossing the room to join his friend bathed in the dim light of the evening. As he walked, he took notice of the one sat her opposite, adorned with a strikingly green carapace and eyes that only knew one shade of deep purple.

Though Anon had never met him, he’d heard enough about King Thorax through Twilight’s anecdotes and all of Ponyville’s local news publications to recognize him. Even if he hadn’t, the outrageously orange antlers would have given it away in a heartbeat.

“Hey, Twi,” Anon finally replied, careful not to use one of her patently dreaded bynames in front of royalty. “Sorry about taking too long.”

“Oh, you’re fine! We’ve only been here for a little while, so you have nothing to worry about.”

Anon sat beside her, thankful that she had sent that unicorn to fetch him.

“Your Highness,” he said, turning to Thorax with a shallow bow of his head.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Anonymous,” he said, voice wholly mismatched with his body as he bowed his own head in kind. “Twilight’s been telling me all about you.”

Anon cocked an eyebrow as he intermittently shifted glances between Twilight and Thorax.

“Good things, I hope…?”

“Of course!”

“Are there bad things I should know about?” Twilight chimed in, playfully glaring at Anon.

He returned it with his best impression of a nervous side glance, holding for a few moments before abruptly facing Thorax again with a smarmy grin.

“So, how’ve things been?”

Neither of them could withhold a chuckle, Twilight poking Anon’s side in retaliation.

“Seriously, though, where is everyone?” he asked. “Shouldn’t this place be full-up by now?”

“I asked Princess Celestia for a private place where we could host our meeting,” she explained. “I thought she’d just reserve a private room, not the whole dining hall…”

Anon smirked to himself; that was right up her alley, considering who it was for.

“Well, I’m definitely not complaining. The buffet line is still hot, right?”

“They actually just finished putting all of the food out,” Thorax replied.

Anon propped his elbow up on the table and tapped the pads of his fingers together, a wily smile at play on his features. For all intents and purposes, his gluttonous hunger had overtaken him.

“Gooooooood.”

“So, I get what kind of person she is on a surface level, but…”

Anon took another bite of his fettucini, his second plate of the evening, covering his mouth as he refused to leave his thoughts unfinished.

“…we need to know why. My disinterest notwithstanding, of course.”

Thorax’s eyebrow climbed upward, his perplexity regarding Anon’s apathy made plain.

Twilight could do nothing but facehoof; she’d really need to work on that with him.

“…Okay,” Thorax finally uttered. “Is there anything specific you’d like to know?”

“Has Chrysalis ever said anything about why she’s so averse to living peacefully alongside other races?” Twilight asked, pulling a notepad and pen from her bag.

Thorax’s thoughtful gaze met the table.

“As long ago as I can remember, she’d tell us stories about her encounters with others outside the hive,” he began. “They almost always ended with her being accosted just for being a changeling; chased away, driven out of town, something to that effect.”

“Did she tell these stories often?” Twilight asked, scribbling away.

“All the time when we were grubs. When we came of age, though, it was less frequent; we already knew to be wary of outsiders at that point.”

“Makes sense,” Anon interjected. “Get ‘em while they’re young, and in theory, you won’t have to worry about insubordination when they’re older.”

Inwardly, he wondered how far she deigned to bend the details of her shoddy anecdotes.

“In hindsight, I’m sure that was part of it,” Thorax replied. “She really did love us, though, in her own way. Everypony could feel it.”

Anon’s brow hiked almost imperceptibly. He didn’t want to doubt Thorax, but he found it difficult to believe Chrysalis capable of anything but abject apathy at best.

“I’m curious about that, if you don’t mind me going off on a tangent,” Twilight said as she looked up from her notes. “When you and your hive willingly gave Chrysalis your stores of love, you underwent a metamorphosis that physically and mentally changed you. If Chrysalis was doing the same thing for you, then…”

She shifted awkwardly in her seat, suddenly avoiding his gaze.

“If, um… Oh, how do I ask this without sounding rude?”

“If she really loved all of you, then why didn’t she transform, too?”

“Anon!”

Twilight, thoroughly unamused with Anon’s aversion to manners, lightly smacked his arm with a wayward hoof. He winced as he recoiled from her somewhat meaningful strike, a sting dancing atop his taut skin.

“It’s alright,” Thorax interrupted, sullen tone betraying his declaration. “In all honesty, I’ve thought about it a lot, myself.

“The exact process of our metamorphosis is multifaceted. It happens when we willingly empty our stores of love, but that isn’t the only factor; it has to be specifically directed, and with genuine purpose. Without those two guiding principles behind the act, all it does is end the life of the changeling who performs it. With those principles at the forefront of the decision making process, though, the transformation occurs. Logically, it’s the single most selfless act a changeling can undertake. Sometimes, if one’s heart is in the right place, the transformation might even take place before they fully run out.”

Thorax stared wistfully through the open window, the lavender of the encroaching night offering itself as a canvas to a sky full of burgeoning stars. He sighed, the dim light of the scant few lanterns accentuating the exhale.

“When I made the decision to share it with her, not knowing what it would do to me, I didn’t think about my life, or how hungry I would be. All I wanted was to show her that, even though she couldn’t bear to look at me, I still loved her.”

He focused on Anon, the gloom in his eyes unmistakable.

“There were times in the past where she had to do something similar to make sure we didn’t starve. Long winters when we hadn’t fed in months, and we couldn’t produce enough jelly to last until our next feed. She’d gather us all up, let us feed off of the love she had stored away within herself until she was nearly dry. She only ever kept enough for herself to make sure she could take care of us.”

Twilight’s note taking pace had slowed considerably, enthralled by Thorax’s recollection. Anon, for his part, remained neutral, his arms crossed as he listened intently.

“I don’t know why she never transformed,” Thorax lamented. “I suppose, even then, she was… holding something back.”

“Do you have any idea what that might’ve been?” Anon asked, a fair bit more empathy behind his words.

Thorax shook his head lightly.

“Not a clue.”

Anon leaned back in his seat, unsure of how to proceed. Far more stubborn than an ox, he struggled to accept that there may have been more to Chrysalis than her offenses against others. Pleasant though she may have been to her own kind, she still terrorized the countryside for almost three centuries.

“To answer your original question, though,” Thorax continued, “There is a story she used to tell the grubs that stands out when compared with the others.”

“Go on,” Twilight encouraged, notepad once again at the ready.

He took a quick breath, his lungs thankful for the refreshment.

“According to Chrysalis, this one dates back to the reign of one of the very first changeling queens.”

Twilight frowned.

“According to what little we know of changeling history, that would date this story roughly…”

Her brow furrowed as she completed the menial calculations in her head, her joy multiplying as she did so.

“…around a hundred years or so before the Unification!”

Anon perked up, a smirk borne from her infectious excitement.

“Is that good?” he asked.

“Good?!” she guffawed. “Anon, we barely have any in-depth historical records of changelings from that time period. This is unprecedented!”

She reached over and grabbed hold of Anon’s torso, her vigor bidding her to shake him rather violently. Thankfully, Anon’s stomach was spared as she snapped out of her stupor, a sheepish smile on her lips as she retreated back into her seat.

“S-Sorry,” she apologized before returning her attention to Thorax. “Please, continue.”

“Of course,” he replied. “I suppose I’ll tell it the same way she always used to.

“Long ago, before the other races of the world openly scorned us, there lived a fair changeling queen. Resplendent and beautiful was she, the matriarch of her humble brood. Despite others’ wariness and mistrust of our kind, she ensured peace was kept, and was determined to maintain the safety and prosperity of her children.

“One fateful evening, as she was leaving a nearby town after speaking with its governing body, a young pegasus approached her. Rather than accost her, he offered kind words, speaking earnestly and with pure intentions. The queen, fascinated by the strange pony’s lack of fear, engaged him in kind. They spoke a fair while longer than she had intended to, and before they parted, they agreed to make their meetings a regular occurrence. It didn’t take long for the two of them to fall hopelessly in love with one another.

“For eight long months, they carried each other’s hearts in secret, giggling and galavanting in the night without a care in the world. From his love, her brood fed deeply, and knew nothing but prosperity. Often, she would allow him entrance to her hive, and he became a welcome face to all.

“Alas, it was never meant to be; during one of their daytime trysts at her hive, wandering townsfolk saw the two of them together in the middle of a willing feed. From the lens of their prejudice, they saw only what they wanted to see - a monster devouring one of their own. They gathered the town together that night and decided that only one thing could be done about the ‘changeling menace’ on their doorstep.”

Anon chanced a glance at Twilight as she scribbled away on her notepad; the unrestrained excitement that was plastered all over her face had given way to a creeping sense of discomfort.

“With torches alight and pitchforks raised, they imprisoned any changeling they could find in the town, as well as the pegasus, whom they had deemed a traitor. In the dead of night, they descended upon the hive, setting it aflame with all of the innocent changelings inside. The queen, a mother first and foremost, sensed the impending danger, and was able to usher most of her brood out in time, where they were met with the encroaching mob.

“They chased the queen and her children away, spilling changeling blood in the process. Wandering in the wastes of the far west, turned away with vitriol by every race she came across, she never saw her love again. Others say she and her brood starved, but only we changelings know the truth - they had all perished of broken hearts.”

A weighty silence threatened to crush the room.

“W-Well,” Thorax spoke, returning to his normal form of speech. “That’s how she used to tell it, anyway.”

Twilight was mortified, unable to hide the melancholy in her fallen expression.

“Is all of that… verifiably true?” she asked, all but pleading the contrary to be true.

Thorax shrugged.

“It’s been passed down from hive to hive for generations,” he explained. “Some of the details have likely changed along the way, of course, but it had to have come from somewhere. It’s a shame recordkeeping was never something my progenitors took to, being nomads and all.”

Twilight nodded, a stupor clouding her concentration.

“I’ll, um… cross-reference the story with the historical records we have in the royal archives. T-To see if anything matches up.”

Anon exhaled, uncrossing his arms to lean on the table.

“Well, that was… heavy.”

“Most things concerning our culture are,” Thorax replied, a gentle smile on his lips. “Well, not anymore, hopefully.”

Anon looked him up and down, weighing him against his previous queen in silence.

“I don’t think you guys have anything to worry about,” he finally said, his own smile curling his lips.

Thorax nodded in return, his own grin having grown to match Anon’s. He waywardly checked the clock above the massive window, sighing in the process.

“I should probably head back to my room for the day,” he said. “I hate to leave so soon, but I’ve got a long day of meetings tomorrow. Did you two have any other questions for me?”

“None that I can think of at the moment,” Twilight chimed in, having somewhat broken out of her trance. “Anon?”

“Think I’m good for now.”

“Alright then,” Thorax replied as he stood back onto all four hooves. “Thank you for the dinner, Princess Twilight! And it was nice meeting you, as well, Anon.”

The two professed their well-wishes and goodbyes as Thorax strode out of the dining room, the massive door shutting behind him with a sizable wallop.

“Nice guy,” Anon commented as he set upon what was left of his meal.

When no response came his way, Anon cast a wayward eye at his best friend. Her eyes, burdened and lessened by a furrowed brow, seemed locked to a particularly uninteresting bit table out in front of her. The journal she’d brought along with her laid shut, pen strewn about to the side.

Something was wrong; she always tucked her pen to the page where she had finished taking notes.

“You okay, Twi?” he asked as he poked her side.

She blinked once, then twice. Air heaved from her nostrils as she met Anon’s worried gaze with her own dubiety.

“Do you think ponies could have really been capable of that sort of hostility?” she asked. “I know the story may not be entirely accurate, being passed down verbally, but… still.”

Anon chuffed.

“I’d sooner trust a real-life Gabby Gums than take anything out of Chrysalis’s mouth at face value,” he said. “Even if it is real, there’s probably a ton of inaccuracies after a thousand years.”

His quick answer didn’t seem to completely soothe her worries, but she relented nonetheless.

“You’re probably right. I’ll still check to see if there’s any relevant connections with what we have of the era on record, but… thank you.”

“‘Course, Twi. Hey, did you get any lesson ideas from tonight? I have a few, but, uh… I don’t know if they’re any good.”

She perked up, her ears flicking at the suggestion.

“Want me to help with them after you’re done eating? I’m actually not that tired, surprisingly.”

Anon beamed, already twirling his last few strands of fettucini around the prongs of his fork.

“Sounds good to me.”