Equestrian Idol
Chapter 1: Desperate Times
She stood alone, half concealed in shadow on the dimly lit stage. Her soft humming was easy for the audience behind her to hear, due in part to the amplification of her voice through magical means, but mostly because of its unlikeness to anything the ponies had ever heard. And she was watching herself on the impossibly large screen in front of her, a projection of herself expanded for even the audience members in the back of the field to see.
It felt strange seeing herself perform for her prey. There she was, tall, beautiful, graceful, passionate, and alicorn-esque with the way her mane billowed in the artificial wind; the epitome of beauty in beautiful Equestria. Her coat was blacker than the night sky, and the moon paled, or seemed paler, when compared to her flawless, silver hair. The original constellation emblazoned on her flank shone brightly, and her rhythmic sways only drew more attention to the dazzling cutie mark.
This exotic façade was her only means now of extracting the essence of love from the stricken ponies, and it was all she needed. Nopony expected that the most loved and celebrated star in all of Equestria was the enemy—after all, what sort of changeling would have the gall to purposefully advertise themselves? Only the Queen.
She turned around suddenly and dramatically, hair whipping against her face and spilling down her long, slender neck. A seductively coy smile, met by screams of excitement. Stella, every pony called, desperate for the star’s attention. She glanced through them, impassive to their pleas, and her coldness only left them wanting more.
The sea of ponies obeyed her. They waved to her vibrato, cried to her falsetto, stepped to her staccato and the beat, and imitated—very loosely—her elaborate choreography. They were uncaring of whether she meant the lyrics she sang or not, so long as it was her singing them. It mattered little to her; she was getting paid big bits, and the love they showered her with, though shallow, was enough to feed her and her vast family.
She sang passionately.
We don't have to be luxurious
Don’t need bits, no jewelry
And you know I'd follow you through Tartarus, babe
As long as you stay by me, yeah
She didn’t mean any of it. The words were tools that she used, like her voice and pulchritude, to bring home the bread, so to speak.
It was hard to take in, that only a few months ago she was living in a shanty outside of Canterlot with a few of her kin when they had devised the plan. Though her talent and beauty gained her popularity, it was the networking of those that were able to reintegrate into pony society that ultimately granted Chrysalis this chance for survival, redemption, and some much needed income into their treasury.
Equestria’s desire for a new star birthed her persona, and their love gave her the desire to be reborn.
“You’re kidding, right?” Chrysalis asked dryly, stirring a ladle through the ancient pot hanging low above the flames of the makeshift furnace. There was a certain method to it, one that required a significant amount of concentration. She had to be quick so that the gruel wouldn’t get burnt onto the rusting metal, but also careful in order to avoid any spillage through the big crack on the side. They needed a new pot.
“No, your Highness,” a portly changeling said in his bubbly voice. “The auditions are tomorrow noon, and there are only a few slots left. If you wish to participate, I can go ahead and sign up for you.”
With a ragged breath, Chrysalis conjured what little magic she had left in her reserves and heaved the cauldron onto the decrepit wooden table. She then served dinner, a chunky soup that consisted of whatever edible mushrooms and small critters the foraging team was able to find. The changelings gathered around the dining room, one of the two only rooms in their hut, chittered in anticipation as they watched her distribute their portions.
A shadow of a smile appeared briefly on the fallen monarch’s weary face. Her experience as a griffon cook was serving well, but she sorely missed having royal chefs cater to her, and since she was the only one present with any culinary experience, it ultimately fell upon her, Queen of Changelings, to take up kitchen duties. This infuriated her at first, but over time Chrysalis came to know a certain pleasure in feeding her children with her own hooves. With all of the covert operations and careful scheming that had taken place much before and around the time of the Royal Wedding, she had almost forgotten what it was like to be a proper mother. If only she could provide them with love—not the useless emotion, but the magical properties of it that changelings fed off of, and that every other living creature seemed to overproduce. Then, perhaps, her broad family wouldn’t be struggling.
A violent cough startled Chrysalis out of her brooding. She turned her head to its source, a gangly changeling at the end of the table. It was young Pupa, barely in his teens. He quickly raised a hoof to his muzzle and wheezed into it, struggling to hold back a coughing fit, and flakes of chitin fell off of his sickly, withering shell with each suppressed convulsion. He caught Chrysalis’s worried glance and offered her a strained, reassuring smile. Chrysalis frowned.
“Mm, not bad, your highness.”
She shifted her glance from the child back to her scout. He was cheerfully munching on his mouthful, but immediately swallowed when Chrysalis gave him an expectant look. “Ahem, excuse me,” he stammered, licking his lips. “I have not eaten since morning and—”
“It’s fine. Just continue,” Chrysalis said impatiently, taking her seat at the head of the table.
He nodded meekly. “Yes, my Queen. As I was saying earlier, Sapphire Shores’s retirement has left Equestria’s pop culture in a musical drought, since she held somewhat of a monopoly in their music industry. But I think that if you tried, you could be the next big thing. If things went well, you would be able to harvest enough love to feed the whole colony, easily.”
“There are many issues regarding your plan, Eurosta,” Chrysalis said with a dismissive wave of her jagged hoof. “The biggest one being that we would need to hire an agent, and we lack the funds for that.”
Eurosta blinked. “…I was Sapphire Shores’s agent, your majesty,” he deadpanned.
“…Yes. I knew that.” It was difficult to remember the names of every single changeling, impossible to memorize all of their disguised and constantly changing occupations.
“Well, she’s retired now,” Eurosta said, raising another spoonful towards his drooling mouth, but thinking better of it and setting it back into the bowl. “And so I’ve been scouting for some new talent. As I mentioned earlier, my colleagues in Equestrian pop society and I have organized a set of auditions in order to locate a pony, or ponies, with enough talent for us to invest in and promote to stardom.” He looked to Chrysalis hopefully. “And I believe that you are more than qualified, my Queen.”
Chrysalis regarded the stew in front of her with mild interest. After a moment of considering, she pushed the bowl away. “There are still too many high risks, but I am intrigued. What exactly are you looking for?” she asked, her full attention now on Eurosta.
“I have a few specific characteristics in mind.” He smiled. “I’m looking for somepony beautiful.”
“I’m that,” Chrysalis replied curtly.
“Somepony with a personality.”
She snorted. “Everyone has one. Easy.”
“And somepony who could really sing.”
“I…” Chrysalis bit her lip. Singing wasn’t something she liked to do—at least not in public. The few who were blessed to hear her true singing voice always wore the same enamored expression. It was as if they were genuinely intrigued with the passion with which she sang, the one thing about her that wasn’t fabricated, and that made her feel uneasy. “I only sing when I’m in a good mood, or if it’s someone’s birthday,” she answered with some honesty.
Eurosta tilted his head. “Which is… every other day, your majesty.”
Her shoulders slumped. “Right.”
“And I would like to add that we all enjoy your singing very much.”
Chrysalis perked up at the compliment. “Everyone does. My voice is beautiful,” she responded matter-of-factly, snout in the air.
“Indeed, which is why I have so much faith in you.” A giddy smile spread across his face. “Just think about it: millions of ponies will be listening to you several times a day. They will idolize you, worship you, and shower you with their love and bits! All you would have to do is become a celebrity, which won’t be difficult for you, and you wouldn’t be alone in your endeavors; I and several other changelings are prepared to help you every step of the way! So what do you say?” He finished standing on the tip of his hooves, wings fluttering excitedly.
Chrysalis hummed thoughtfully. On the one hoof, they were already making a steady, albeit slow recovery from the failed attack during the Royal Wedding, but on the other, the changelings back at home were near starving, waiting for their Queen to return with a much needed supply of love magic, which she was struggling to obtain.
Then there were the few brave ones that stayed behind to aid her in Equestria. There was Eurosta, for example, who was one of the few changelings that were able to sneak back into Equestrian society. He ate well physically, but magically he was drained. He tried to be subtle about it, especially in her presence, but Chrysalis knew that the cause of his degrading health was his insistent sacrificing of his love portions to his needier brothers and sisters. His kindness had gravely affected his being, paling his once lustrous shell and sapping the youthfulness and color out of his bulbous cerulean eyes. In just a few years, he had gone through drastic changes, and it looked as if he had aged significantly in such short a time.
There were more like him, and none of them ever questioned their Queen, nor resented her for her many failures.
The changelings on the dining table were all staring at her now. They gave her mixed responses of concern and excitement, encouragements and warnings. Even sick, little Pupa looked at her certainly, his expression void of any doubt to her success. She winced at the hopeful expressions on their famished faces. Their unwavering faith only made her more desperate.
“Alright,” she finally said, through a weary sigh. “I will become Equestria’s most celebrated pony, and I will end our plight.”
The changelings cheered weakly. Their voices were barely above monotone, but their sincerity was audible.
Eurosta clopped his hooves on the floor. “Excellent! Then I will enter you into the auditions, first thing tomorrow.” He bowed low. “Do not worry, just leave everything to me,” he added from his near-prostrated position, then got up slowly.
“I will,” said Chrysalis, pulling her now lukewarm meal back. “You are dismissed.”
“Goodnight, my Queen.” Eurosta nodded humbly. Then, with an about face, he made for the door.
Chrysalis ignored her food again and instead watched Eurosta trudge into the pod room. The languished image of her once proud and able scout made for a good representation for the rest of her colony: they had fallen low. It wasn’t always like this, not a few centuries ago. Not when the previous Queen was still alive…
She shook her head. That was long ago, and she was the only one left who remembered. It would be best for the colony if she ignored such distractions. She had to stay vigilant and endure, just as she always had, and someday, things would surely get better. And with Eurosta's new idea of her fronting as a celebrity, their future was not looking so bleak. There was hope.
She leaned down and lapped a piece of stewed rodent into her mouth.
2: Taking Candy For Her Baby
Chapter 2: Taking Candy For Her Baby
During her longevity, Chrysalis had favored many fashions, naturally, and she pooled together her vast knowledge of pony culture trends into her current form: a slim, white unicorn, golden mane styled into a faux bob—the typical beauty in pony cinema, and oft favorite in upper class societies. On her thigh was a simple shining sun, a dumbed down version of Celestia’s extravagant cutie mark. Ponies love Celestia and her sun, right? Right.
Eurosta was hesitant to accept such a generic archetype of a celebrity, but after much insistence he eventually caved. But now, standing in the hallway outside of the auditorium, Chrysalis wished he had been more vehement in his protests.
She stood against a wall along with several other ponies, waiting in line for the auditions. About half of the other entrants biding with her had white coats and similarly light-colored manes. She was alone in this hallway full of mimics, and the irony was more amusing, and irking, than the ponies rehearsing around her, their poor singing and constant "do re mi’s" echoing throughout the corridor.
Eurosta was waiting outside in the lobby. “Participants only”, the bouncer had said in his gruff voice, as respectfully as he could to a big shot like Eurosta—or rather, Star Gazer: a plain looking, tan earth pony with a slicked dark mane and a black suit to match, whose agency of Sapphire Shores and several other celebrities had earned him prestige. Chrysalis vaguely recalled his reasoning for choosing such a common pony name; it symbolized his watching of superstars come and go, he’d said, or something poetic of the sort—she hadn’t really been paying attention. She felt unexpectedly alone with the absence of her scout and recent advisor. He had been decent company, despite the superfluous honorifics, and was helpful too. Missed.
She sighed and tried to think about something else—anything to keep her mind off of the lonesome malaise shadowing her anxiety. Her first reentry into pony society after the Royal Wedding made for a good distraction.
It was surprisingly easy sneaking into Canterlot. The trek from their hut to the main road leading up to the city was arduous, since they hoofed it for fear of drawing attention (two ponies alone in the wilderness would be a questionable sight). But after the hike, everything else went smoothly. The Royal Guards positioned at the front gate immediately recognized Star Gazer, and his fame and docile aura were probably what encouraged them to casually ask for an autograph, to which he agreed, smiling. The forged documents Eurosta then handed them allowed Chrysalis entry into the city, and the guards uncharacteristically waved them off, complimenting him on his gorgeous date as they walked through. Chrysalis was skeptical of how he obtained such illegal documents, but she tried not to think about it. Eurosta said not to worry about it, so she didn’t.
Once in the city, they were immediately swept along the sea of ponies, conforming to the tide of workers breaking for the lunch rush. Chrysalis had occasionally strayed to better survey their surroundings, knowing exactly where she was, not lost at all, and Eurosta eventually fetched her each time. By late noon they finally made it to the mirrored skyscraper. Inside was the studio where the auditions were being held. After speaking to the bouncer, Eurosta collapsed in the lounge room and waved his Queen off with a fatherly smile. Chrysalis nodded resolutely and went inside, and had been waiting in line ever since.
The sound of a door swinging open and the gust of stale air that followed brought Chrysalis out of her remembrance. A mare trotted out of the auditorium, her head hung low, on the verge of tears. Chrysalis rolled her eyes and looked past her into the room, catching a brief glimpse of the judges. There was a blue earth stallion in a leather jacket and sunglasses, a female unicorn whose neon pink coat hurt Chrysalis’s eyes, and a grey pegasus stallion whose broad chest and back suggested a masochistically large wing-pushup count. They were sitting behind a foldable table, all watching with bored expressions as the present contestant poured her heart out. Occasionally the unicorn would refill their cups with the water vase left behind for them, but otherwise there was no movement, aside from the auditioning pony’s act.
And then the door closed. Chrysalis wondered how much longer it would be until she was to stand in front of those judges, and if they would treat her with the same indifference as they were the current auditionee. Unlikely, considering her plethora of special talents, not limited to just singing. It was only a matter of time before the unworthy critics finally distinguished her from the poseurs, she imagined, almost convincingly.
She glanced behind her at the ponies who would soon be walking out of the audition room the same way the previous contestant had, with their dreams crushed under the unprejudiced hoof of reality. There was a minty unicorn at the far end of the hall, practicing what looked to be a harp. Instrumentalists were popular in older times, but ponies these days wanted a singer-performer. She was good though, and the judges would compliment her, at most. A pair of earth ponies rehearsed behind her, one spouting a long stream of drivel, just words with no pause, while the other spat into her hooves, forming some sort of crude beat. Chrysalis was unsure of what they were trying to accomplish; perhaps a new, innovative form of poetry, poorly presented.
And then there was the petite unicorn standing right behind her. Chrysalis cringed at the brightness of the mare’s alabastrine coat and the wild montage of lavender and carnation that curled around her face, still smooth with baby fat, like a cotton candy halo. Her cutie mark was a pink musical note bent into a loopy heart, probably signifying her love for singing, or her desire to sing for her loved ones. She looked to be just barely above fillyhood, and was sickeningly cute.
Chrysalis then noticed that the young mare was staring up at her questioningly, a shy, dimpled smile gracing her face.
“What,” Chrysalis bluntly said, more than asked. She ignored the fact that she’d been staring first.
The young mare flinched at the cold greeting, and her smile became noticeably forced. “Oh, uh…” She hesitated, averting her gaze. “I like your… mane?”
“Then you must like every pony else’s mane, too,” Chrysalis responded glibly. Pinpricks of anger stung her eyes as she swept a glare along the isle of wannabes. Or maybe it was just her fatigue.
Before the stranger could respond, the squeaking hinges of the auditorium’s door stole their attentions. The entrance swung open again, violently, and another mare exited, this one stomping and cursing under her breath. Chrysalis followed her tantrum through the hallway with a mix of amusement and nervousness.
“Looks tough, the auditions,” peeped the young mare.
Chrysalis grunted and watched as the reject shoved past the double doors leading into the lobby. Hushed gossip immediately filled the hall, but the chatter of ponies was background noise to her, tuned out. As the sulking silhouette blurred, and eventually, disappeared through the door window, so too did her sure confidence. The auditions did look tough. She gulped.
“I’m a little nervous. Are you?”
Chrysalis sighed. “No. This should be easy.”
“Wow, maybe if I keep talking to you, some of that confidence will rub off on me,” the little unicorn giggled. “So, are you a local?”
Chrysalis thought for a moment how to respond. She couldn’t just ignore the mare, whose baby face held great pouting potential, but what was she supposed to say? 'No, my home is in an expansive network of caverns far past Equestrian borders, south of the Badlands and the Dry Dry Deserts, and deep in the jungle beyond'. Or, 'The shanty my kin and I currently occupy is situated within Canterlot county, though obstructed from view and society.' Or maybe just, “Sure.” She drew the word out.
“Sure?” The young mare sounded amused. “Well, you sure look like one, being so well groomed. You probably can’t tell, since my sister prettied me up, but I’m from way out in the countryside, from Ponyville.”
The name sounded familiar. “Interesting,” Chrysalis said with some honesty.
“Yeah, for a small town, some interesting things happen out there. You’ve probably seen us in the news once or twice. Ursa Minor, parasprites, dragon rampage—oh, but the dragon wasn’t so bad. He’s really a sweet guy!”
Chrysalis mumbled something unintelligible, her mind elsewhere, Ponyville specifically. There was something queer about that town. Its name suggested a generic pony hamlet—just a waste of space inhabited by the insignificant—and yet, there was something intriguing about this Ponyville. One of her children had surely mentioned it; a rather urgent matter, if she recalled correctly. Ponyville… well, no matter. She pushed the thought aside. Anything unrelated to the audition was unimportant.
There was an awkward pause in their partial conversation, probably as the young mare thought of more conversational topics. Soon enough, she spoke again.
“My sister helped me get my act together in time for my audition,” she said excitedly. Her pride and embarrassment were audible in the squeak of her voice. “I’ll be performing an original song we came up with together. I don’t want to spoil it, but maybe you’ll hear it on the radio someday, if I make it big. What’re you going to be doing for your audition?”
“The Heart Carol.”
“That holiday song?”
Chrysalis nodded once.
“Why did you choose a classic?” the young mare asked doubtfully, then said, chastened, “Not that there’s anything wrong with oldies.”
Why not? By the surprised and questioning tone in the young mare’s voice, there was definitely something wrong with singing a classic. Was it too ‘old school’, as the foals said these days? Well, the answer to her question was both clever and reasonable. “Because I am a patriot,” Chrysalis said. Ponies were proud of Equestria, and therefore, a song from the establishment of their country that also chronicled its foundational principles was the best choice. Obviously.
“Huh,” muttered the young mare. The brief response was irking.
“Holly Summer?” a receptionist called, walking past them.
It took Chrysalis a moment to fully register the name. “I am Holly Summer!” She stepped forward hastily, almost tripping over herself in her hurry to escape her gabby neighbor.
The receptionist turned around and minded her coolly. After a brief moment of scrutiny, he shrugged and ushered her to the auditorium’s door. “You’re next.”
Wordlessly, Chrysalis walked out of the line, passed the receptionist, and opened the door.
“Good luck, Holly!” the Ponyville unicorn cheered from somewhere behind.
“Yeah, you too,” Chrysalis grumbled over her shoulder as she pushed through the door.
She briskly trotted out the door, refusing to meet the sad gaze of the young mare from before as she passed by. In the lobby, Eurosta greeted her with a kind smile and an expectant look in his eyes. She strode right past him and into the streets. He galloped to catch up, and they walked together in silence.
Chrysalis reflected.
“Like, bleh, snores-ville!" the unicorn strumpet cut-in, just as Chrysalis hymned the first verse.
“Even wubbing a cover of DJ Pon3 would’ve been better than singing that grandmare’s song”, followed the winged meat.
“A pretty voice isn’t enough, I’m afraid. Perhaps if you were more original...” the dirt pony trailed off, shaking his head. “You may leave now.”
Their ignorance earned them her eternal hatred. If they had just let her get to the end of the song, the climax that would have allowed her to demonstrate her powerful vocals, just a few seconds more of their worthless lives, then they would have had the pleasure—the blessing of her talent in their agency. But instead they rejected her, not even half a minute after she entered the room. It wasn’t a pity, but a damned sin, one the judges would pay multitudinously for. Someday.
Just a bit more magic, Chrysalis thought grudgingly. If only I had just a bit more magic. More magic granted access to more complicated spells. Illusions, perceptual alteration, mind puppetry; so many options, none of which she was capable of executing without the love she was constantly denied. Even more complex transformations would have sufficed. How easy it would have been to ponynap the pesky judges and put them on trial in her little hut, the jury fully comprised of changelings. They would plead guilty, of course; a sentence to death by torture, justice exacted by the hooves of the wronged. A modification spell, guillotined hooves, and a blazing horn would’ve made for good torture tools. But these improbabilities were made impossible, because she lacked the magic of love, the thing that was so difficult, seemingly impossible for a changeling to attain. Love, love, Celestia-damned love!
As she walked through the streets cluttered with the privileged masses, she felt a sudden urge to hiss at the jovial passersby. To see startled looks on their smug faces, plump with easily obtainable, undeserved foods, might assuage her. And perhaps it would cheer Eurosta up.
Chrysalis glanced at him from her peripheral. The business pony walked beside her, posture straight, head held high, with that trademark serenity on his face, even there when undisguised. But his sliding hooves and slow steps betrayed his otherwise composed demeanor. Chrysalis could tell how he truly felt: helpless, defeated. Ever patient Eurosta was at a loss. He had high hopes for this plan, Chrysalis was aware, and the fact that she’d failed him and tarnished the opportune rehearsal he’d painstakingly set up laid heavily on her withering heart, and instantly quelled her rage, a dull cold in its place.
They approached a batch of foals. The young nobles, easily discernable by their fancy attire, skipped happily from stall to stall, perusing the many goods while stuffing their saddlebags with costly confectionaries only the rich could afford. Chrysalis stopped behind them, staring ponderously at the candy spilling out of their bulging carriers. Didn’t Eurosta like sweets when he was just a larva? A vague memory, possibly fabricated, played in her mind, of a chubby, little grub scarfing down piles of candy, so graciously provided by some changelings who were daring enough to celebrate Nightmare Night amongst the ponies. The foggy image of that smiling infant convinced Chrysalis of her next action. Her eyes lit with dark intent, as did her horn, which sparked with decaying magic, and she extended her green aura towards the nearest child’s saddlebag.
Eurosta stepped in front of her, colliding with and dispelling her telekinetic grip. “My Queen, please don’t,” he said, looking cautiously over his shoulder at the foals. “Two of them are unicorns, and if they caught you… Well, with the state you’re in…”
Chrysalis tilted her head, waiting for him to finish his sentence. She remained still, and it took a moment for her to fully comprehend what his open sentence implied. “It was a joke,” she lied, chuckling. “I just wanted to see how you would react.” Eurosta gave her a look of mock exasperation, and she was relieved.
“Though, now that I take a closer look, those little munchkins sure do have a lot of candy. It would be unfortunate if one of their saddlebags had a tear, wouldn’t it?” She smiled mischievously, fangs inconspicuously born, the effect dampened by her weary eyes. With a flick of her horn, and a substantial amount of her remaining magic, the ornate weaves and crocodile patterns of the saddlebags were gently incised. Unbeknownst to the foals, their candy poured out of the new holes in their designer wears as they scampered to the next stall. Chrysalis collected the loot quickly, watchful in case of any witnesses, and levitated them towards her waiting underling.
Eurosta gave her a subtle, grateful, yet stern look. There was amusement somewhere in that placid pony face of his; only someone close, a mother, could see it through his mask. He sighed, and to Chrysalis’s delight, popped a whole hoofful of candy into his mouth. “Delicious,” he said through a sticky smile.
They continued further along the streets until they made it to central Canterlot. The day was late, and streetlights flickered on sequentially, powered by stored sunlight. One by one they were lit by some pony magic foreign to Chrysalis, and if she hadn’t been so sure that the spook of their invasion had long since blown over, it would have been an eerie sight, as if the city were welcoming them into the bosom of enemy territory. But now, in this time of peace and harmony, it was a breathtaking glimpse of casual Canterlot.
Chrysalis, unsure, and uncaring, of exactly where she’d lead them, walked towards the large fountain in the middle of the donut complex, Eurosta close behind. They sat on the bench beside the physics-defying geyser (how they pumped so much water vertically up a mountain with such force confounded Chrysalis) and shared the rest of their bounty, as Chrysalis took in the splendor of the great capitol, her wonder wiping away any remaining despair from her most recent failure.
“Your highness,” Eurosta said, having finished his share of the treats.
Chrysalis swallowed, “What is—hak!” prematurely, and had to expand her throat to allow the wad of hard candy passage. She shifted the rosy tint on her cheeks back to pale, and coughed into a hoof. “What is it?” she asked in a hoarse voice.
Eurosta pursed his lips, containing a laugh. Once in control, his face turned serious. “As much as I enjoyed the sweets, I would advise you against thievery,” he said bluntly. “I could just buy us some candy next time; I am a wealthy Equestrian, after all, and a few sweets wouldn’t affect my bank account in the slightest.”
“Ah, right.” Chrysalis fought back another blush. She wondered how it would look if the Queen of Changelings were to appear in the middle of Canterlot, undisguised, due to all of her magic having been drained into cosmetics. Ridiculously shallow, maybe.
“But if you still want to take from the ponies,” Eurosta continued as he tossed a wad of candy wrappers towards a neighboring trash bin. Miss. “Then at least let me do it.” A nearby guard gave him a severe look. He got up and properly disposed of the sticky covers, then sat back down innocently. “You, the Queen of Changelings, should not subject yourself to such a deplorable act.”
There was a tensing in Chrysalis’s eyes, and she snapped her gaze away, settling on a nearby streetlight, then shifting to a hanging gonfalon when the oscillating brightness dazed her. Stealing candy from foals, that was wretched, she admitted, but thieving was just what changelings did, royalty or not. But the schemes weren’t always so petty, having dwindled in magnitude in recent years, from elaborate bank robberies, to now, taking sweets from children. Still, she hadn’t done anything wrong; it wasn’t for her own selfish gain, anyways, and there was certainly nothing ‘deplorable’ about wanting to see your child happy, or at least, not depressed. Chrysalis sulked at the rippling emblem of Celestia’s unnecessarily amplified haunch dancing on the flag for a moment longer, mood degrading.
“Alright, have it your way,” she said at last. “We can have nice things for free, but if you want to pay, then go right ahead.”
Eurosta nodded triumphantly. “Yes, I would like that.”
“But you know, that’s quite an ironic statement,” Chrysalis yawned as she lazily slid off the bench. “Hypocritical, too. Contradictory even.”
Eurosta arched his brow. “Your highness?”
“I am a changeling too, and it is in my nature to steal things.” She got up and stretched, rotating her head and flexing each leg individually. “And I am Queen, so it is also my privilege to take what I want.”
“I’ll still pay,” he said. “The risks are not worth it.”
Chrysalis rolled her eyes. “Very well, do as you like.” A shadow loomed over them, and she turned around. Their surroundings darkened, and the streets had become livelier while they weren’t looking, as different types of ponies stepped out into the night, few foals in sight. The moon was beginning its ascent, their queue to leave. “We should be off. The sun is setting, and the night patrol will soon begin.” She started walking away, slowly, waiting on her subject.
“Are you sure?” said Eurosta, lingering behind. “Perhaps you could use a break after your, um…”
Chrysalis stopped, and sighed. “Failed audition?” she offered.
“Well.” He shrugged. “Anyways, the nightlife here could be just what you need. There is a good bar a few blocks away, and their happy hour starts around this time.”
Eurosta grabbed her by the hoof and began tugging her along, streaming praises about the saloon’s exclusive concoctions as he waddled backwards on his hind legs. Chrysalis let herself be pulled, feeling comfort in the familial touch, despite the difficulties of walking on only three legs. She wondered how ridiculous they looked—a gorgeous mare being dragged along enthusiastically by a full-grown stallion—and laughed. Passing ponies stared, and a Guard, the same one who witnessed Eurosta's missed trash shot, watched suspiciously. Eurosta continued, unnoticing, and Chrysalis let him, nonplussed. This clumsy thoughtfulness, and the humor of it, lightened her spirit, and that was enough. She pulled back her hoof gently, careful to give him enough warning to land on all fours.
“No, it’s alright.” She shook her head slowly, smiling. “I’m not in the mood.”
Eurosta tilted his head. “Is that so?” He waited for her reply, and she nodded. “Okay. Well then, let us be off.”
Chrysalis resumed her lead, and the two made their way through the street opposite of the one from which they entered. With a steady gait, they soon progressed through the many districts, from the swankiest neighborhoods, all the way to downtown Canterlot. The lengthiness of their tour went by unnoticed; they were too engrossed in conversation to care, oscillating between various topics: their uncertain future, Equestrian politics, the arrogance of the judges—Eurosta apologizing profusely for them—and of his chums in the world of ponies, among other things.
While on the dreaded subject of her rehearsal and its unfair ruling, Chrysalis remembered something. “Eurosta,” she said, voice faltering, avoiding his eyes.
“Hmm, yes, Queen?” he hummed, his attention pendulating between a bar on the other side of the street that advertised with a billboard by its entrance, HAPPY HOUR NOW, and her.
“Um.” Her throat seemed unusually dry. She cleared it. “I’m sorry I failed you and the others. Again.”
Eurosta whipped his head to her, looking concerned, then understanding. “Now, now, none of that,” he chided. “Do not worry—”
“But our comeback is underway!” Chrysalis said vigorously, stomping hard on the cobble, receiving a few startled glances, undaunted. “We, you and I, walking here on Equestrian streets in peace, are testaments to our progress. Though our approach now to gaining love is much more clandestine and painfully slow, we will thrive again someday, I promise you that.”
“I have no doubt,” Eurosta said, a big smile stretching across his pony face. But then he opened his eyes wide as something dawned on him.
“Queen?”
“Yes, my subject?” she fumed, still pumped from her talk.
“Where are you taking us?”
Chrysalis stopped and looked around, frazzled. Although the buildings and crossroads were unknown to her, they held a sense of familiarity, as if she’d passed them before. She came to a realization: they’d been walking cycles around the city for what seemed like hours, but was probably only one.
“Where are we?” She squinted to better see the closest odonym, and read aloud, “Sol Street.”
“The gate out of Canterlot is that way,” Eurosta said, pointing in the direction they had just come from. “About an hour walk from where we are, if home is where you wanted to go. But if not, then please continue.”
Chrysalis groaned. She turned around and started towards the exit. “Let’s go home.”
